Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Mami insists on taking eight billion pictures of me and Jonas, clucking over how “dashing” and “princely” he looks in his tux. I mean, I would have to be blind not to admit that Jonas does look really good in a tux. His hair is slicked back, and the tux highlights his broad shoulders and strong jaw. It’s kind of hard not to admire the whole effect. Not that it changes the snake he is underneath the good looks and the expensive outfit.

When I came down the stairs in Mami’s black mermaid dress and Ferragamo heels, Jonas gave this approving nod, his chin jutting out in a smug smirk, and I had to fight the urge to punch him. I wonder if the number of times I’ve had to hold myself back from punching him is indicative of an anger issue. Or maybe it’s something that people commonly feel, should they be unfortunate enough to cross paths with Jonas. I wanted to scream, I didn’t dress up for you! But I bit my tongue.

“Have fun this evening,” Papi says. He claps a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “I’m trusting you to look after Kiki.”

Oh god, kill me now. I had more faith in Papi than this clichéd show of patriarchy. “I can look after myself just fine,” I hiss through my teeth.

“Kiki,” Mami scolds, though she does so without her usual bite, probably so she doesn’t scare Jonas, “Papi is just showing that he cares about you.”

“Well, considering the number one concern that women have when they’re on a date is that their date might rape and kill them, isn’t it weird that we keep expecting our dates to ‘look after’ us?”

“Kiki!”Mami snaps.

I press my mouth into a flat line. My stomach feels tight, and it has nothing to do with the unforgiving corset that’s sewn into the dress. “Sorry,” I mumble to Jonas. “Didn’t mean to imply that you’re a rapist-slash-killer.” Just an asshole, I mentally add, though I wisely decide to keep that thought to myself.

“It’s all cool.” Jonas laughs. “It’s what I’ve always liked about your daughter, Om, Tante,” he says, addressing Papi and Mami like I’m not there. “She always speaks her mind, no matter who she might offend. I find it refreshing. I love girls who can challenge me.”

Mami and Papi beam, lapping up every piece of bullshit he’s feeding them. On the surface, it sounds good. But if one were to scrutinize his words, they’d know that Jonas is as sexist as they come. He likes “girls who challenge him,” as though my having my own opinions and not being afraid to voice them is purely for his entertainment; when he gets tired of it, he’ll expect me to stop being “sassy” or “feisty” and expect me to be pliant and agreeable.

“Well, have a wonderful time!” Mami calls out as Jonas escorts me out of the house.

He’s opted to leave the Aston at home today, going instead for a chauffeured Rolls-Royce. He makes a big show of opening the door for me, and I can hear Mami sighing happily from the front door. All her dreams are coming true; her daughter is going to a ball with a member of the highest echelon of society. I know that she’s been dreaming of this happening to me ever since Sharlot got together with George Clooney; she hasn’t stopped bitching about why Sharlot was able to do that and I wasn’t, and how if I had any wits about me, I would do as Sharlot did and bag myself a billionaire.

Whatever it is that Jonas has up his sleeve, he’s obviously very excited about it. He rubs his palms together. “You’re in for the night of your life.” His eyes shine and he fidgets in his seat.

I somehow doubt it, I almost say, but since it’s our last day as a couple, I’ve decided not to be a raging asshole about anything. Instead, I give him my blandest smile and gaze out the window. The charade is almost over. After tonight, I can call it quits with Jonas and come clean to Liam. My heart rate quickens as I daydream about life as not-Jonas’s-girlfriend.

Jonas chatters about various uninteresting things the whole way to school—or maybe they are interesting, just not interesting coming from him. Either way, I keep zoning out and nodding once in a while and going, “Mm-hmm,” and he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s basically having a conversation with himself. When we arrive, I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t open the door for me; his chauffeur does. Not that I needed Jonas to open my door, but it’s just funny that he made such a big show of opening the door for me at my house, in front of my parents. He stands a few paces away, holding out his elbow, his chin proudly up. Do I really have to take his arm?

Benign and boring, I remind myself. We’re almost at the finish line! I take a deep breath and link my hand through Jonas’s arm. I even manage to keep myself from wrinkling my nose or sneering with open revulsion, so go me!

We ascend the front steps together and make our way toward the gymnasium. As we walk down the hallway, music spills from the gym and a handful of students all dressed to the nines are scattered here and there. Jonas waves to them, and I take the chance to pull my hand away, but he catches it and pats it. He probably thinks he’s being reassuring, but to me, it only comes off as patronizing.

“Hey man! You look great!” some guy I recognize from Year Eleven Justice calls out.

“Thanks, bro!” Jonas shoots back in what he probably thinks is a really smooth way.

We come to a table set up next to the doors leading to the gymnasium and sign in. I scan the guest book quickly, trying to spot Liam’s name. I see Peishan’s name near the top of the page but no Liam. My stomach sinks ever so slightly. Even though Liam isn’t my date, I was looking forward to seeing him in a tux. And, okay, I was looking forward to having him see me all dressed up and wearing makeup instead of the usual bare faces we have to go to school in. Interesting that he and Peishan didn’t come here together.

“Don’t forget to vote for the Spring King and Queen,” the boy manning the table says, pointing at a large box.

Jonas and I shuffle toward the box, pick up a card each, and write down our votes. Next to the word “King” I write down Liam’s name. No hesitation there, he’s the perfect Spring King. Then there’s the queen. Hmm. I should write down Peishan’s name, but gah. I squeeze the marker and then force my hand to write her name. I don’t want to be the kind of jerk who doesn’t vote for a perfectly nice person just because I’m jealous. Peishan’s name comes out as a jerky scrawl, but it’s written. I fold up the paper and drop it into the box.

“Ready?” Jonas says, smiling down at me. The kind of smile that would send most hearts racing.

I force a smile back at him. “Sure.”

And with that, we go through the double doors.

I have to pause to take in the amazingness of the place. Mingyang’s dances have always been pretty humble affairs, the decorations done by the student council and usually involving a lot of balloons. But Xingfa’s Spring Dance is in a league by itself. There is no way that students could’ve done these decorations. The walls have all been covered by soft silver-and-white curtains. The ceiling is draped with the same cloth swooping here and there, dotted with a thousand twinkling lights so it resembles a magical night sky. There are a dozen towers of beautiful flower arrangements. Lilies and roses and orchids drip from massive vases, their scent filling the room. A live band is in full swing, the music loud enough to fill any uncomfortable silences but not so loud that one would have to shout to be heard over it. A stage has been set up at one end of the gym, the sides wreathed with flowers. There’s a large buffet on another side and sofas on the other. Clumps of students occupy most of the sofas, and still more are milling around the buffet. Nobody is on the dance floor yet.

“There they are,” Jonas says, nodding at one of the sofas.

I glance over to see Jonas’s meathead buddies. Great. I don’t even bother with a pretend smile as Jonas leads me to his group of friends. The guys are all manspreading, of course, and the girls are perched demurely on the very edge of the sofa. They all look amazing. I notice fancy, blinged-out watches that probably cost more than one year’s tuition, blinged-out handbags, and jewelry with stones so big I hope they’re fake but, knowing this crowd, I’m willing to bet money that these are all real diamonds and sapphires and pearls.

“Hey, bro!”

“Brooo!”

“Braaaah!”

Is there anything more obnoxious than guys calling each other “bro”? Or maybe I’m just annoyed because it’s Jonas and his jerk friends, the very same people who have called me Crazy Kiki for the past two and a half months. They glance at me and smirk at each other.

One of them elbows Jonas, still grinning, and says, “So you really brought Crazy Kiki, huh?”

The back of my neck boils.

“Hey, c’mon, man,” Jonas says. “I told you guys, she’s not crazy, she’s pretty cool.”

Elon jerks his chin at me as a greeting. “Yo, Kiki. Can’t resist Jonas after all, huh?”

Jonas smiles at me like this is somehow a huge compliment to me. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Yep, told you guys, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Jesus, this is why he wanted me to go out with him. To prove to his cronies that, like everyone else, I’m no match for his charms. I want to lunge at all of them and punch the smug smiles off their smarmy faces, but I’m so close to the finish line now. I force myself to take a deep breath and ignore the guys.

I scan the sofa for an empty space, but though there should be plenty of space for everyone, the guys on it are manspreading so hard they’re practically doing the splits. I guess I’ll just stand, then. I try to make eye contact with the girls, hoping to at least make polite conversation with them, but they’re all too busy chatting with one another to spare me a single glance. Even though Jonas thinks that by dating him I’m elevating my reputation, the truth is, it hasn’t done shit for me when it comes to these people. I will always be the “crazy” outsider who doesn’t know her place.

As Jonas is enveloped into his group of friends, I’m left to one side, forgotten for the moment. On one hand, yay for not having to endure small talk with Jonas! On the other hand, ack, this is so awkward. I grip my purse in one fist and rub my elbow with the other and try to look super casual as I scan the room.

“Kiki! Over here!”

I glance around to see Trissilla waving at me from the buffet table. Next to her is Zoey. I look over at Jonas to see what he’s up to. His head is dipped low as he talks to his friends. It’s as though he’s completely forgotten my existence. Just the way I like it. “I’m just going to be a minute,” I mumble. Nobody even looks at me, so I lift the hem of my mermaid dress and hurry over to the buffet table in little steps.

“Glad you made it!” Trissilla gives me a one-armed hug when I get there. Her other hand is balancing a teetering tower of mini burger sliders and cocktail shrimp. “Grab a plate before the horde gets to all the good stuff.”

“The sliders have wagyu patties and foie gras,” Zoey says through a mouthful of food.

“Wow.” I am genuinely impressed, and so, so relieved to be with Triss and Zoey instead of Jonas and his friends right now. I pray that Jonas won’t notice that I’m not with him for at least another fifteen minutes.

Triss hands me a plate and I survey the decadent spread before me. Damn this stupid mermaid dress, it’s not going to allow me to eat more than a few bites of food, so I’ll have to be strategic with what I choose.

“Hey, ladies, what’s good here?”

I look up to see Peishan standing on the other side of the buffet table. She looks amazing in the emerald dress that we found a couple days ago, her hair swept into an intricate side braid and her lips painted immaculately in a dark red shade. My throat seems to close up on its own. Liam isn’t going to be able to take his eyes off her.

“Sliders,” Triss and Zoey say in unison.

Peishan nods and takes a plate, then turns and passes the plate to someone behind her. It’s a guy who I think plays the trombone in the school band. Or maybe he plays the flute? I don’t remember. “Here,” she says to him.

“Thanks.” He grins bashfully, and I stand there confused, because there are some serious vibes going on between these two right now, and I do not understand it.

“Hey, Tommy, how’s it going?” Zoey says.

Tommy nods at her. “Great. Who did you come here with?”

“Klodiya.” Zoey cranes her neck to scan the gym. “She went to the bathroom—oh, there she is.” She waves into the growing crowd, and we turn to see Klodiya, wearing a silver jumpsuit, walking in next to…

Oh god. It’s him. Liam. And he looks—there are no other words for it—devastatingly handsome. I mean it; my soul disintegrates at the sight of him, because he looks so freaking amazing and it is just too cruel. I don’t want to be standing here watching him greet Peishan, so I edge away from the buffet, though I do pause long enough to grab a foie gras slider. I slink behind a decorative tree with silver and white leaves and crystals and chomp into my slider mournfully. My first-ever fancy dance at a fancy school and I’m miserable—wow, this slider is really good—but I’m still really sad. Though I’m not above taking comfort in wagyu sliders.

“Hey.”

I’m so surprised that I nearly choke on the chunk of slider in my mouth and am reduced to a coughing mess for the next five seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” Liam says. “Are you okay?” He pats my back as I cough, and when the coughs recede, his hand remains there on my bare skin, its warmth spreading throughout my entire back. Then he seems to notice it and yanks it away with an embarrassed clearing of his throat, as though he burned his hand.

“Um, so.” Liam shoves his hands into his pockets and bares his teeth at me.

“Is that supposed to be a smile?”

“Is it not coming out as a smile?” he says, his mouth frozen in a half grimace.

I bite my lip. “It looks like you’re about to have a stroke?”

That breaks the awkwardness, and we both start laughing. Then the laughter ebbs away, and we’re left with a heavier, more expectant silence. There’s so much unsaid between us, and I don’t quite understand it, because I’m the only one with something to hide here.

“So, uh,” we say at the same time.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “You go first.”

“No, you go.”

“Okay, um…” Of course, by then, I’ve forgotten what I was about to say. No doubt it was something stupid anyway.

“You look really nice,” he blurts out. Then he clamps his mouth shut like he hadn’t meant to say that.

My entire face bursts into flames, and I’m glad that Mami insisted on having me slather on a thick layer of foundation at home. “Thanks. You look nice too.” Then guilt overwhelms me. I don’t want to be the kind of person who hits on someone else’s date. “Um, so does Peishan. That color looks amazing on her, right?” I say desperately.

Liam’s eyes soften. “I didn’t come here with Peishan.”

My breath lodges in my throat, a pocket of air that I have to cough out. “You didn’t?”

He shakes his head.

“Who did you come with?” My mind is flailing, throwing random thought after random thought at me. No wonder she was with that band guy! What’s his name again? How could you have forgotten it? You only heard it, like, two minutes ago! It doesn’t matter what his name is. Randy. It was Randy. It was not Randy. Oh my god, stop freaking out internally!

“Nobody, actually.” Liam clears his throat and takes a single step toward me, and I’m suddenly struck by just how close we are standing to each other. The air between us turns electric. “Um, can I ask you something?”

I can only nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“Are things between you and Jonas serious?”

Somehow, I manage to shake my head. “In fact, I’m pretty sure tonight is our last night as a couple.” The words feel slimy coming out of my mouth, even though they’re true, but it feels wrong being, like, Hey, I’m about to break up with my boyfriend (even though said boyfriend is basically a fake boyfriend), so please be ready. “I mean, I didn’t mean that to be, like, ‘So let’s get together.’ Not that I don’t want to—uh, not that I necessarily want to either—but—” Oh my god, somebody stop me, please!

“I’m really glad to hear that.”

His words stop me dead. Our eyes lock, and for the first time, I sense nothing in our way. Just us, and the naked truth between us: that I like Liam, and he likes me back.

“I don’t want to be the sort of asshole who comes in between a couple,” Liam continues, “but since you said you’re breaking up with Jonas, I, uh, I just wanted to say, I’ll wait.” He smiles and looks down at his feet for a second before looking back at me. “I’m good at waiting.”

I swear I’m about to float away. Everything feels so light, my limbs weightless, my hair flying up. I’m like Peter Pan, soaring through the clouds and playing among the stars. Dimly, I sense myself nodding. I don’t know the words to convey to him how brilliantly happy I’m feeling, and I don’t think there’s a need to say anything, because we understand each other, we get it. We smile so hard at each other that my cheeks start to ache, and I don’t care, because I’ve never felt this joyous, as though my insides have been replaced with bubbly, sparkling glitter.

Just then, the music stops abruptly. The spell breaks, and Liam and I blink and look around, as confused as everybody else seems. Someone taps on the mic. Thud, thud. As one, our heads turn to face the stage, where Jonas, of all people, stands.

“Hellooo, Xingfa!” he calls out, completely comfortable with all the attention.

My mouth drops open. Honestly, just when you think Jonas couldn’t possibly be more obnoxious, he proves you wrong. I bet he’s going to start singing or, worse, rapping.

Jonas swings one hand dramatically and a screen descends from the ceiling. Or maybe he’s about to do a presentation on all of his fancy cars. He puts the mic back up to his mouth—probably touching his lips, ew—and says in a husky voice, “This is a tribute to my girlfriend, Kiki Siregar.”

Goose bumps erupt all over my skin. Dread uncoils deep in my guts. Oh no.

“Hit it, guys!” At that, a video starts playing, cast onto the giant screen. And it’s so much worse than I expected. Because it’s a recording of our Warfront Heroes gameplay. Jonas starts narrating in this stupid, deep narrator voice. “Some of you may know what this is. But for those who don’t, it’s Warfront Heroes, an online shooting game. That’s my character you’re following. And here it comes—” On the screen, a rogue suddenly appears out of thin air and stabs Jonas’s character in the back. There is a collective gasp from everyone. The rogue stabs Jonas’s character until Jonas’s HP bar is empty, and as soon as he collapses in a lifeless heap to the ground, the rogue begins to dance over his dead body. Jonas rolls his eyes at us. “That rogue is Dudebro10, my archnemesis. As you can see, Dudebro10 started to follow me around in-game, killing me whenever he found me.”

“I can’t believe this,” Liam mutters.

I should ask him why, but I’ve lost the ability to speak. My mouth is a desert, my throat feels like someone has put their hands around it and started squeezing, and I swear my heart has clawed its way into my stomach and is continuing to dig for the floor. This is bad. This is so bad. I should go up there and—I don’t know—tackle Jonas off the stage or something. But my feet refuse to move.

“I know that guy,” Liam continues, more to himself than to me. “Dudebro10, that’s my friend. This is so weird.”

“At first,” Jonas continues, “I was so mad. Every night, I would log on to Warfront Heroes and hope that I wouldn’t run into this assho—uh, this guy. Heh, sorry, teachers.”

Gentle laughter ripples across the crowd. They’re all completely enamored by Jonas, listening to his every word, their eyes wide and full of interest. And I still don’t know what I’m going to do.

“But night after night, Dudebro10 found me and killed me over and over again. I couldn’t play the game. I reported him to the mods, but they did nothing. So I did the only sensible thing: I took it into my own hands to find out who Dudebro10 is in real life. I thought he was going to be a twelve-year-old boy in Thailand or something.” He gives this self-deprecating laugh, and the crowd laughs appreciatively. A couple people even clap. “But what I found shook me. I mean, literally. I was shook!” Jonas does one of his dramatic pauses, turning his head slowly from left to right, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. “Because Dudebro10 isn’t some random kid. Dudebro10 isn’t even a dude.”

“What?” Liam mumbles.

All the blood drains from my head. I feel dizzy. “Liam—” I choke out. “I need to tell you something.”

But my voice comes out so tiny that Liam doesn’t hear me. He’s staring openmouthed at the stage, and god knows what’s running through his head. He takes out his phone and unlocks it, muttering to himself. He begins typing rapidly.

A second later, my phone vibrates in my purse with a text. I ignore it, gripping my purse handle tight with sweaty palms.

“Dudebro10,” Jonas says in a low, let-me-tell-you-a-secret voice, “is a girl. And she goes to this school.”

A murmur rises like a growing tide across the crowd. Liam types furiously into his phone. My phone vibrates again and again, message after message coming from him, and still I remain frozen, still I do nothing, say nothing, my voice gone.

“And when I found out exactly who Dudebro10 was, I”—Jonas takes a deep breath—“fell for her.”

“Ooohh!” the crowd gasps.

Jonas smiles, scratching the back of his head. “That’s right, I fell for her, because wow! What a girl. Any feminist would immediately fall for her, right? And so of course, I went to her house, and I said, ‘Kiki Siregar, will you be my girlfriend?’ ”

He might as well have set off fireworks in the gym. Everyone starts talking at once, the noise level in the gym rising like a tide, but none of it matters to me, because when I look over at Liam, I find him staring at me with an expression of utter shock and betrayal. My insides twist painfully.

“Liam—”

But Jonas isn’t done yet, oh no. “It was basically a real-life enemies-to-lovers story. You guys all know how much Kiki hated my guts.” He laughs. “First day in school and she was already on my ass in class, weren’t you, babe?” He winks in my direction. “But love wins. Every. Single. Time. She can’t resist this, what can I say? And I had to do this. I had to tell you all the truth, because I feel really bad for starting that whole ‘Crazy Kiki’ thing. I’m here to tell you guys that she isn’t crazy. I mean, she’s sassy, amirite?” Jonas laughs. “But not crazy. And she definitely shouldn’t hide in the dark. Someone like her has to enjoy the limelight. Come on up here, babe. To my beautiful, feisty girlfriend, Kiki!”

Every pair of eyes in the vast room is suddenly on me, the weight of all their gazes pinning me down. I can practically taste their expectation, hear the thoughts running through their heads. They’re all waiting for me to rush onstage and hug or kiss Jonas and thank him for the romantic reveal. They don’t know that he’s just destroyed everything I’ve been so careful to protect.

I keep my eyes on the only person who matters to me right now. “Liam, I wanted to tell you—”

“You—you’re Dudebro10?” His voice cracks, nearly breaking, and it nearly undoes me.

Somehow, I manage to nod. “But I can explain—”

Liam’s mouth twists, and without another word, he turns on his heel and strides away. Everything inside me screams at me to go after him, but I’m rooted—truly, it feels as though roots have sprouted from the soles of my feet and dug deep into the ground—and I can do nothing as Liam walks away from me.

“Baaabe,” Jonas calls from the stage, his arm still outstretched.

Everyone watches me, starry-eyed from what they think is the most romantic thing they’ve ever witnessed, and this is what makes me snap: the fact that they think what Jonas just did is amazing and not ridiculous. Shame bubbles up from deep inside me, hot and red and thick. I’ve told myself to be patient, to be quiet and benign so I wouldn’t call any attention to myself again, wouldn’t get on the wrong side of my new schoolmates, but all that has gotten me is this freaking mess. I can’t bear to be here, to hear the judgey murmurs that are already rippling through the crowd. Why isn’t she going up to him? Why isn’t she more grateful? Why doesn’t she know how lucky she is to be dating Jonas Arifin?

It’s too much, all of it. A sob chokes out of me, and I clap a hand over my mouth. My muscles unfreeze, and I sprint away from the crowd, running for the exit, my vision blurred by hot tears. It’s over, everything is shit, and I fully deserved this.