It really was him.

I held my breath, startled and overwhelmed, disbelief and absolute joy warring back and forth inside my head. Brandon was here. He had come to see me. He had been furious with me for going with the girls, and now he had come back. He had…cared enough to come back.

"Hey," I said as he swung himself up into the tree under my window again. "You're back."

"I'm back," I said, smiling nervously. "Sorry, I—"

"Pearl, I'm sorry."

My heart stumbled and skipped a beat. Brandon was so close all of a sudden, looking remorseful and acutely, painfully vulnerable.

"I didn't mean to blow up at you like that," he said, his green eyes gazing deep into my soul. "It's just…this is exactly how it started with Felicia. She makes friends with the popular girls, they invite her everywhere, and next thing I know she's a brainless bimbo who thinks she's too cool for the people who've always been there for her." He smiled bitterly. "I just don't want that to happen to you, you know?"

He doesn't want to lose me. There it was again, that feeling, that tug at my heartstrings. Brandon didn't want me to leave him the way Felicia had left him after befriending the cooler girls and becoming popular. He…he really, really didn't want to be alone.

"Don't worry," I said and meant every word. "I hang out with the cool girls, but I don't think I could ever be one of them. I'm not Felicia, you know?" I smiled lopsidedly. "I don't have her looks or her confidence. I don't even understand why they keep me around."

Brandon regarded me for a moment, searching for something in my face that I couldn't understand, then he cracked a small smile. "No…you're not Felicia," he muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself more than me. "You're too real to turn into a living clothes rack."

I wondered what he meant by that, but he didn't elaborate. I also wondered if I should tell him that fashion wasn't as vapid as he seemed to think it was; if I had learned anything from the girls, it was a sandbox to play around in until it left you feeling more like yourself. In the end I decided against it. We had only just made up. I didn't need to start another fight right then and there.

"Next time I'm finding an excuse for sure," I promised him again. "So…I'm free now, if you feel like—"

I was interrupted by Brandon peering past me into the room. "Who's that messaging you?"

"What?" I asked, then followed his gaze to my phone where it lay charging on the nightstand. The screen had lit up with a new message, and when I bent over it, it was Louie sending a picture to the group chat. Probably a meme or a photo of one of her pets.

"Oh," I said. "It's just—the girls, in the group chat. Nothing to—"

Trailing off mid-sentence, I froze and stared, wide-eyed, at the messages below.

These ones were from Felicia, and they were private messages. A whole series of them.

Hey pearl, you forgot ur jacket at my place. Want me to bring it?

I'm going out anyway. Its NBD

Whatever. Be there in 10.

The last message had arrived eight minutes ago.

"Crap," I whispered, gesturing furiously at Brandon. "Quick, you need to hide!"

Brandon frowned. "What's going on?"

"Felicia's coming here." Instead of an explanation I held my phone in his face so he could read the texts. "She can't see you here, you need to get out—"

Before I could finish the sentence, there was the sound of a car rolling into the street, and I wasn't about to risk it.

Without a second thought I grabbed Brandon by the shirt and yanked him into the room, closing the window behind him and shoving him into the closet. "Sorry," I whispered, just as the car stopped outside, and moments later the doorbell rang downstairs.

"Hi, Mr. Evans!" Felicia said brightly—I figured my dad had opened the door, then. "Your daughter forgot her jacket at my place earlier. Is she home?"

I didn't make out what my dad said in response, but moments later his voice rang up the stairs. "Pearl, your friend's here to see you!"

Abandoning Brandon with the embarrassing realization that he was stuck in that closet with all my embarrassing old shirts and—even worse—my underwear, I hurried down to meet Felicia at the door.

"Hi," I said, slightly breathless, and smiled. "Um, thanks. You really shouldn't have bothered…"

"Girl, don't be dumb." Rolling her eyes, Felicia shoved my jacket into my arms. "It's cold out in the evening, you would've been, like, stuck at home if I hadn't brought it. Which is totally fine but maybe also not what you want, so, like, stop being weird and just take it."

And there I was again, steamrollered into accepting her kindness before I could realize what was happening. I should really get used to this, I thought. With how often Felicia tended to do this, one would've thought I'd be able to handle it a little better by now.

"Thanks," I said, awkwardly holding my jacket in my hands. "You really…" Felicia threw me a look, and I swallowed the remark I'd been about to make. "Never mind. Thank you."

Felicia was already halfway back to the door, flashing me a brilliant smile. "See you on Monday," she said, blowing me a kiss as she went. "Love ya!"

"Really a nice girl, your friend," my dad remarked as I closed the door behind her. "How did you say you met again?"

"Uhm, lunch break," I said, which wasn't really a lie but also not really the truth. "She just…came up and started talking to me."

I could sense that my dad was about to ask more questions, so I hurriedly backed away towards the stairs. "Anyway, I…think I left the water running," I lied and scrambled upstairs before he could stop me. "See you later!"

Brandon had left my closet again in my absence. When I opened the door, I nearly crashed face-first into him and was met with narrowed eyes and a hand that quickly yanked me into the room to slam the door behind me.

"What did she do to you?" he hissed.

I flinched, backing away as much as I could with his hand clenching into my shirt. "Nothing," I said. "What are you talking about?"

Brandon pressed closer. "You didn't just forget that jacket at her place," he whispered. "She kept it on purpose so she could come here. I bet she was trying to catch us together!"

I stared; blinked; then gaped at him. "I don't think that's it," I said mildly.

"Trust me. You don't know her like I do." Lifting his gaze from my face, Brandon glared into the direction where Felicia had been. "Felicia's a scheming bitch. She's up to something."

I laughed, even though some part of me insisted that Brandon had known her for years—he couldn't possibly be wrong about this, right? "You're paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid, I learned about her the hard way." Brandon's features hardened. "What did she tell you? That you're too good for me? That you deserve better?" He leaned closer. "You think she actually believes all of that?"

My heart froze in my chest.

"What are you saying?" I whispered, but my voice sounded distant in my own ears.

Brandon cracked a grim smirk. "Felicia has two faces," he said. "One that she shows people. And one behind their back."

I tried to think of a time when Felicia had acted two-faced, but couldn't really remember—well, except when she had taken me to the cat café behind the others' backs, but she had only done that to keep Chelsea safe. So, that was fine. Right?

Unless…had that explanation been a lie?

But—no, that couldn't be. The Felicia I knew was someone who looked out for her friends' health and safety, someone who cared about other people's wellbeing. She couldn't really be as bad as Brandon was making her out to be, right?

"You've noticed it too."

Jolting, I snapped back out of my thoughts, my eyes flying up to meet Brandon's. "You know I'm right," he said. "Why do you think Chelsea's so scared of her?"

She's not that kind of person.

Then you don't know her as well as you think.

Just…don't tell Felicia. Whatever you do, don't tell Felicia.

Chelsea at breakfast, strangely tense, mad at herself for not delivering perfection even though Felicia didn't seem to mind.

I didn't bring up any of that. Instead I asked, "You knew about that?"

"Of course," he said. "She wasn't always this scared. When they first became friends, she was pretty casual around her." He snorted. "Pretty sure it should be the other way around."

Slowly, I nodded, still reeling from all that information I didn't know what to make of. "Do you know why she's scared of her?"

"Not in detail," Brandon admitted. "But I have a suspicion. You see, Felicia has this weird habit."

I didn't say anything. I just stood there, waiting for him to continue.

"She compliments people without meaning it," he said. "And you don't even know she was lying till you catch her talking about you to somebody else."

You're really cute. You know that, right?

Had my first instinct been right? Had that actually been a joke—or an outright lie?

I knew that was too good to be true.

"Have you ever heard her?" I heard myself ask, my voice faint and hollow. "Talking about…about me?"

Brandon smiled, suddenly looking gentle and much too understanding.

"You don't have to believe me," he said. "See for yourself. She can't keep hiding it forever."

I hoped he was wrong, but the weak, insecure part of me couldn't be so sure.