James

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I was still standing in the middle of Farrah's living room, with almost everyone staring at me. Jasper and Harlee were outside, and as much as I wanted to go out there and explain myself, I knew it would probably only cause more trouble.

Harlee would probably push me into the pool.

I couldn't blame her if she did.

Evan got up, slugged me in the arm, and asked in a frantic whisper,

"What was that?? You said I was being too mean then you go and say that-"

"It just came out the wrong way. I meant to say we aren't still friends," I explained quietly.

"Oh, that's much better," Evan replied sarcastically.

Not wanting an audience for our argument, I tried to turn around, but when I did, I was met with a hand to the face.

I held my cheek, stunned at the action.

Farrah was standing there with an infuriated look on her face, and Hyland didn't look too happy with me either. Amy was smug, but after that chant she led, it was quite evident she didn't like Harlee or me. She didn't seem to like anyone but Farrah.

I opened my mouth to confront Farrah for slapping me, but she spoke before I did.

"Get out of my party, James. I don't know what happened to the nice James Whitmire, but that was the one I invited to my summer bash, not this cold-hearted jerk that says hurtful things to his best friend," she said angrily.

"Farrah, just let me explain-" I started.

"Ah." She put a hand up, cutting me off.

I shut up because I was worried she'd hit me with it again.

"The only thing I want to hear you say is 'goodbye,' okay? If you're not going to be a real friend to Harlee, I'll just have to," she said, folding her arms. Hyland and Amy copied her gesture whilst glaring at me.

"You don't understand. It isn't all James' fault what happened with Harlee," Evan said, attempting to defend me.

"Oh, come on. What is it with you boys and making excuses?" Hyland said. "Honestly, James, I didn't mind that you didn't want to kiss me. I understand that. But what you said to Harlee was despicable. Especially in front of everybody like that."

I hung my head in shame once more at how I'd hurt Harlee so badly.

And at the fact, I'd probably ruined my reputation with Hyland forever.

And the fact that everyone was STILL staring at me.

"I didn't mean to hurt Harlee. That was the last thing I wanted to do," I mumbled softly, hoping my regret was obvious.

Because that was the truth.

That was the reason I'd done all of this.

I'd been trying not to hurt Harlee, and by doing that, I just kept hurting her more.

"Sounds like a lie to me," Farrah scoffed with her eyebrows raised.

"Me too," Hyland said, shaking her head in disappointment.

Farrah turned back to her party guests after rolling her eyes at me.

"Um, let's play a different game, everyone," she said. "James has kind of ruined the mood."

"He sure has," Amy chimed in. A few others agreed. Farrah instructed her guests to head to the front yard for laser tag.

At that moment, Jasper came back inside and gave me a death glare. He didn't say anything to me, though; he just followed the others towards the front door. I couldn't help but wonder why he looked so furious with me.

Since when did he become so protective of Harlee anyway?

How was any of this his business?

Once the others were outside, only Hyland, Amy, Evan, Farrah, and I remained.

"I have nothing left to say to you right now. Please escort yourselves out," Farrah said coolly before hurrying out the backdoor. Hyland and Amy followed right behind her.

Hyland looked over her shoulder at me again.

This time she wasn't smiling at all.

The door shut behind them, leaving Evan and me in the empty room by ourselves.

Neither of us spoke for a minute.

Eventually, Evan said,

"Way to go, James. You made all of the girls hate us."

I rolled my eyes, exhausted from the night.

He was only frustrating me more, so I simply replied,

"Girls are too much drama. Maybe we should find some more guy friends."

Evan's response to that was to slug me again.

I deserved that.

That night, after my mom picked me up, I went straight to my bedroom to send Harlee an apology text. I collapsed into a heap on my bed and tried to think of the right words to type.

But nothing came to mind.

How was I supposed to explain my behavior without sounding completely selfish?

I finally gave up on messaging her an apology and resolved to put a message in the window instead.

Like we used to.

But then, I realized how long my message was going to have to be and that there wasn't nearly enough space on a whiteboard for it.

I had two options left.

I could either call her or say it to her face.

I sighed.

As much as I wanted to apologize right then, I knew something like this didn't need to be said over the phone. And I doubted she would come to the door if I rang the bell to ask to talk that night. Deciding to try talking to her tomorrow, I changed into my pajamas and got ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, then turned on some music to help calm my mind a bit while I drifted off.

The sound of someone knocking on my bedroom door interrupted my indie record playing. I assumed it was my sister because Mom was probably asleep. I pressed pause on the audio player on my laptop and answered, "What do you want, Lizzie?"

"It's not Lizzie; it's Dad," my father's deep voice boomed from outside my bedroom.

Dad?

I jumped from my bed and hurried over to the door to greet him.

I thought he wasn't coming home until the next week.

What a wonderful surprise after such a terrible night, I thought as I swung the door open.

"Dad! Hey!" I exclaimed happily.

"Hey, how are you doing, son? I've missed you," he said, giving me a hug.

I joyfully hugged him back. Most guys my age would opt out of hugging their dads, but not me. Maybe it was because I didn't see him often, or maybe it was because I was so sensitive. But as long as we didn't hug in public or anything like that for Jasper and Mike to mock me about it, it wasn't a big deal to me.

"How was your trip?" I asked. I gestured for him to enter the room, then we walked over to my bed and sat down.

Living in the house with my mom and sister all of the time made me long for as much time with my father as possible. His job kept him away often, so moments we could just sit and talk were extremely rare.

I closed my laptop and pushed sleeping off my agenda for the time being. I was wide awake.

"It was alright; thanks for asking," he replied, then filled me in on his business endeavors for a few moments. Although I wasn't the slightest bit interested, I listened intensely. Just sitting there talking to him was enough for me.

"How have you been? We haven't gotten to talk in person in what...three weeks?" he asked.

I went over the past couple of weeks in my mind and nodded in agreement, feeling sad. I knew his math had to have been right because the last time Dad was here, Harlee and I were still friends.

"Nope, we haven't," I mumbled quietly. "And I'm...alright, I guess."

"You guess?" Dad raised his eyebrows with concern.

"Yeah, something happened, but it doesn't really matter." I brushed it off, not wanting to delve into what happened that night.

"Your mom said you seemed down after the party you went to tonight. She also said Harlee hasn't been over to this house in almost a month. May I ask if this 'something' that happened was at the party? And even furthermore, if this 'something' has anything to do with Harlee, and why she hasn't been here?" he asked.

Darn, I thought.

So, Mom isn't asleep.

And apparently, the emotionless mask I'd been wearing in the car hadn't fooled her at all since she went and spilled everything to Dad once he got here.

Harlee's absence from our house hadn't gone unnoticed by her either.

It seemed I was worse at keeping secrets than I thought.

Except for the main secret.

The reason why Harlee and I could never be friends again.

That was the only thing I'd successfully kept to myself.

Now, if only I could explain myself to Dad, apologize to Harlee, and move on with my life without anyone finding it out. But that would prove difficult, especially since my parents already knew something was going on.

"Yes, and yes," I finally admitted, fidgeting with the hem of my comforter.

"Are you two fighting?" he asked after a moment.

"Kind of. I don't know. Dad, I'm pretty beat, and I'm sure you are too, especially after that long flight home. Can we finish catching up tomorrow?" I faked a yawn to seem more believable.

Truthfully, I wasn't all that tired anymore.

I had the energy to talk.

Just not about myself.

Dad wasn't relentless though; he just nodded his head and said to me,

"That's fine, James. We can talk about it another time if you want to."

"Right. Another time," I repeated with way less enthusiasm.

He stood to his feet, and I gave him another hug. When he was almost at the door, he stopped in his tracks at the sight of something. He pointed to the spot in the mirror where Harlee and my picture used to be then asked the obvious question.

"There used to be a picture of you and her up there, wasn't there?"

"There was," I replied, my voice almost a whisper.

Dad nodded his head understandingly then finished his walk to the door.

"You should put it back." He turned in the doorway to face me. "Even if you and Harlee aren't friends anymore, keeping the picture means keeping the memories, the good times. You don't want to forget about it just because it's in your past."

His words were true, and I knew it.

Our friendship, though it hadn't lasted as long as I hoped it would, had been legendary.

And that didn't deserve to be forgotten.

Nor thrown away.

Maybe it was good I couldn't forget Harlee.

Maybe I didn't need to.

Because what she taught me about being myself and about being brave changed me as a person.

It helped build me into who I was.

She helped build me into who I was.

Friends or not friends, that was a fact.

I got up from my bed slowly and walked over to my dresser.

I pulled out the picture of us; then, I stuck it back in its rightful place in the corner of the mirror.

A warm smile appeared on Dad's face and into his cocoa-brown eyes. It was clear that he was pleased that I'd taken his advice.

After he closed the door behind him, I looked out my window and saw Harlee's bedroom light off, and her blinds down. Walking towards my window, I whispered to Harlee as if she could hear me saying,

"It was fun while it lasted, Harlee. It really was."