Free Brilliant by Rachel Vail

Tyler and stomp to the car.
    “What did he say?” I asked Allison, dreading the answer.
    “Nothing,” Allison said.
    “I don’t trust him,” I whispered preemptively.
    “Because he’s a boy?” she asked. “Or because he says he loves me?”
    “He said that?” I asked, feeling my fingers go numb.
    Allison shrugged, but the smile she was trying to force into a frown was having none of it.
    When we finally got home Phoebe chased Allison upto Allison’s room and they closed the door quickly behind them. I could hear Phoebe’s voice, all happy and excited, behind the door as I passed it going to my room. Still my room, I thought now, each time I entered it. Still my room. I didn’t even take a shower.
    He told her he loves her , I thought.
    Well, better than telling her I kissed him.
    Ugh.
    I was unbearably exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl under my covers. I conked out before my head hit the pillow.
    I woke up at dawn and watched the sky brighten. Dawn is always my favorite time of day.
    When the transition from night was done, I opened my computer and checked my email—nothing, a few status updates from people whose status I didn’t really feel like thinking about, an email from Ziva with the subject line PARTY . I didn’t open it. Instead I stared out my window for a while. I just felt so vaguely sad; even the clouds tracing their slow route across the sky seemed to mock me, by having somewhere to go.
    After an hour of that, I opened my computer again and made a journal file. I decided to write about what was going on, how I felt about it, maybe figure out why I was feeling so prickly lately, plus work on why I had done what I had done (I still couldn’t bring myself to name it even in my head), but there was a knock on my door just after Ityped the date, so I shut the computer. “What?”
    It was Phoebe. In her boxers and rumpled sleep T-shirt, she lingered in my doorway and asked, “Can I ask you something?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why do you hate Tyler Moss so much?”
    I sat up and shoved my computer behind me. It was closed and I hadn’t even had a chance to write one word about what had happened yet, but I felt totally caught anyway. It took a lot of effort to sound innocent and I was not sure I succeeded. “Who says I hate him?”
    “It’s pretty obvious, Quinn.” She smiled. God, she has the happiest, most winning smile. It was impossible not to smile back a little, even then.
    “I think it really matters to Allison that you see he’s actually a great guy,” Phoebe insisted.
    “Okay,” I answered. “Thanks.”
    “For what?”
    “It’s…I don’t know. That’s…You’re right. I’ll try, okay?”
    “Great,” Phoebe said. “I’m starving. Should we make some eggs?”
    “Eggs? So early? What are you even doing awake?”
    She checked my clock. “It’s nine thirty. Come on, cheese omelette? With fried onions?”
    “I…Sorry,” I said. “I am, um, meeting a friend…going for a walk now.”
    “Oh?” Phoebe half said, half asked. I flipped my hair over my head to gather it in a ponytail, to avoid looking at her.
    “Good thing you came in,” I added. “I’m running late.”
    “I miss Gosia already,” Phoebe said, and sniffled. “I can’t believe—”
    “I know,” I told her. “Me too. Just don’t say anything to Mom and Dad, okay? They’re already—”
    “Mad stressed, I know,” Phoebe said. “I’m not a baby.”
    “I didn’t say you were,” I assured her.
    “I was just telling you ,” she added. “Not them.”
    “Okay.” She was leaving my room as I opened my underwear drawer. The heel of one of Mom’s shoes poked out.
    “How is nobody else hungry in the morning but me?” Phoebe was mumbling.
    I shoved a bunch of socks on top of the shoe. “I don’t know, Phoebe, okay? I’m sorry, I just…I can’t answer all your questions right now.”
    “It wasn’t that kind of question. You don’t have to answer.”
    “Rhetorical,” I