Kate in Waiting Becky Albertalli (best way to read books TXT) 📖

I storm over to the sinks, trying to scrub my face clean of tears. But they just keep coming. “So, what, you didn’t think this would break my heart? Or you just didn’t care?”

“Of course I care! But—God. I thought we talked about this—”

“You could have gone for any other guy, Andy. Any other guy.”

“That’s not how it works—”

“Oh believe me, I know.” I laugh harshly.

“I mean that’s not how it works when you’re me, okay?” Andy’s voice comes out choked. “Do you even get that? I’m gay and I’m Black, and, Kate, we live in the deep fucking South. You think we’re treated the same? You think we’re playing the same odds?”

“This isn’t a game—”

“I know! I know it’s not a game. Can you just listen—”

“No, you listen.” I whirl back around to face him. I look him right in the eyes. “I was a wreck when I thought I was hurting you. Okay? I agonized over how I was gonna break the news to you. And you? You don’t even give a shit. Just drop that bomb before algebra, right? Cool, I’ll take the whole day to savor it.” For a moment, I just stare at him, shaking my head. “So, thanks for that.”

Then I burst out of the bathroom, leaving Anderson tear-soaked in my wake.

Scene 61

I don’t know how I’m ever going to look Matt in the eye again.

I mean, if Matt and Andy tiptoeing around my oblivious self for two weeks wasn’t humiliating enough, Andy’s about to walk right back into Senior D looking like Niagara Falls hit his face. I can just picture it. Matt will wrap his arms around him and kiss his forehead until he stops crying. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Tell me what happened.

The crazy thing is, I don’t even think Matt will be mad at me for yelling at his boyfriend. He’ll just pity me. Stupid Kate and her pointless, pathetic crush. Maybe Matt and Andy will even hash out the issue with everyone in Senior D. Circle of trust, right? They can all just sit there discussing what an absolute steaming-hot desperate mess of a human being I am. It’ll be like the real-life version of the Kate Garfield Singing Instagram page.

I mean, it’s seriously the longest school day of my life. Hands down. I can’t bear to go to history. I’ll start crying if I see Anderson. So I tell Mr. Edelman I have a meeting to discuss college applications, and then I walk straight past the guidance office and spend all of second period hiding in an empty locker room shower. And then I spend lunch there, too.

But even eavesdropping on Genny Hedlund’s locker room conversations is barely a distraction. The mortification comes in waves. Every time I catch my breath, an even worse thought smacks me down.

Like all those rides I took with Andy and Matt. I was so unbearably naïve. The way I curled up smugly in the back seat, thinking I was just a good friend for giving Anderson the front. Letting him pretend he was the center of the story.

Guess there wasn’t much pretending involved after all.

By eighth period, I’m downright spiraling. I can’t stop thinking about how terribly sorry Matt must feel for me now. And how sorry he’s felt for me for weeks. How he and Anderson must have talked about me. I bet every time I was away, every night I spent at Dad’s house, they were wincingly speculating that I’d lose my shit when they told me. And then, lo and behold, here I am proving them right.

I want to run away. I just want to walk out the atrium door, break into my brother’s car, and drive all the way home. Or I could walk home. Andy and I used to walk to and from football games when we were in middle school. Two and a half miles. I could be at Mom’s house in less than an hour.

But in the world’s greatest example of laughably ironic bullshit, I’m stuck here for an intensive rehearsal. For the song “Normandy.” Which is literally about Lady Larken trying to run away from the castle.

The dismissal bell rings, and I lurch toward the auditorium like a zombie. I can’t make eye contact with anyone in the hallways. Because everyone must know the whole story by now. Everyone. The whole school. Kate Garfield? Yeah, isn’t she that girl who constantly deludes herself into thinking gay guys are in love with her?

Except—okay.

Maybe a handful of people have missed the memo that I’m a pathetic shameball loser. Everyone in rehearsal’s acting so normal, I could weep. Lana’s being snotty with the tech kids about stage left versus stage right. Brandie plops into the chair next to me, all excited about some viral video about baby wombats, so we watch that for a while. And then, the minute she gets up to pee, Noah steals her seat and starts babbling about some little kid’s YouTube channel.

“That’s all he does. They send him new toys every day, and he films his reactions. I’m not even kidding. The kid’s like eight. What a lifestyle. I stan.”

I smile, but it feels rigid and forced, like a marionette dummy. It’s been six hours since Andy’s bombshell, and I barely know what smiles feel like anymore. “You have so many opinions about children’s media,” I say.

“To be fair, I have a younger sister.” He pokes me. “Question. Madison’s having, like, a very lowkey party tomorrow.”

“That’s not a question.”

He just smiles. “Want to come?”

“I don’t even know Madison. Why would I go to her party?”

“Because it’s going to be fun. And because you’d be going with me. And,” he says emphatically, “you have no excuse not to go, because it’s right in our neighborhood.”

“I’ll be at my mom’s house.”

And as soon as I say it, it hits me. Mom’s house. Which is where Matt lives. That’s going to be a fucking joyride. Just a fun weekend at home with a