Chapter twenty-five: Apologies and admissions

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Harlee

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"Okay, your dress is in the washer, and I put it on delicate. We wouldn't want to shrink it in the dryer, so I think you should just let it air dry when it comes out of the wash," I told Rachel while climbing down from the stool I needed to reach the laundry detergent.

"Okay, thanks, Harlee," she said.

Once our fit of hysterics was over, Rachel had started freaking out about how the frosting had ruined her dress. She changed into the extra clothes she'd brought, and I put her dress in the washing machine, but so far, that was the only cleaning up we'd done. The kitchen still looked like a tornado had torn through it.

"I guess we better get started cleaning," I remarked as we walked back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, we should," Rachel replied, her voice small.

She filled a bucket with water and soap, and I got the mop out and some rags, so we could start cleaning up the frosting. I began mopping while Rachel started scrubbing the floor, avoiding eye contact with me.

A pang of guilt hit me.

I knew she must have been feeling hurt by how I'd spoken to her earlier, and I had yet to apologize for it.

Just as I was about to apologize, she beat me to it.

"Harlee, I'm sorry I was so rude to you." She looked up at me. "I was wrong to take advantage of your kindness, and I'm sorry."

I shook my head rapidly and refused the apology.

"No, don't say you're sorry. It isn't your fault. I had a bad morning, and I should not have taken it out on you. And please don't feel guilty about the ingredients. You're free to use anything in our kitchen whenever you like," I told her.

She smiled warmly. Then her brows furrowed in concern at what I'd said. "A bad morning? How come?" she asked, scrubbing the frosting that had splattered onto the dishwasher. It didn't come up, so I handed her some vinegar to try and remove it.

"Just a lot going on this summer," I replied vaguely. I continued mopping with force, trying to clean up the sticky frosting globs that adorned the tiled floor. No matter how much elbow grease I gave, they just did not seem to want to come up.

Rachel gave me a look like she wanted me to continue, so I did.

"Between James not wanting to be my friend anymore, feeling torn between you and Farrah-"

"Torn between Farrah and me?" she repeated. "Harlee, I didn't tell you that story to turn you against her or anything."

"No, I know that. It's just..." I set the mop against the counter and sat beside her on the floor. I was exhausted, and removing those stains was going to take way more energy than I was willing to give at the moment.

Rachel continued scrubbing the dishwasher as she waited for me to finish my sentence.

"I don't think your friendship ending was all her fault, Rachel," I told her.

She stopped mid-scrub and glanced at me.

"What do you mean?" A glint of regret flashed through her eyes as she spoke.

"I mean, Farrah says you weren't always the easiest person to be around.

She said you made her feel guilty for having money and that you took offense at nearly all the things she tried to do for you. Now, I've never known Farrah to be a liar, but she could be overreacting or exaggerating. Tell me, though, is she?" I asked, hoping she would be honest. Maybe, if both Rachel and Farrah admitted they contributed to the conflict between them, it could be resolved.

I felt the same was necessary concerning my friendship with James. But it was a bit more difficult for me. I couldn't admit to taking part in a conflict when I still didn't even know what our conflict was. I turned my attention back to Rachel's and Farrah's situation.

Rachel sighed and leaned against a cabinet tiredly.

"No, she's not exaggerating or overreacting. We both kind of fed off one another in the fighting. I hate it. I hate to admit it. But I was so jealous," she confessed.

"I would always be kind of passive-aggressive concerning her other friends and her money. She did invite me to things; I just became so defensive at how she always wanted me to 'wear the proper attire' and not tell anyone I had money problems. But...it wasn't like, she thought she was better than me; it was that she wanted me to be something I'm not."

I felt relieved to know that.

I could understand Farrah being an insecure people pleaser and trying to get Rachel to fit in with her high society friends. But her being a stuck-up brat would have been non-negotiable.

I thought back to what Farrah had said in her room earlier that day about "protecting Rachel." I remembered the times she'd tried to protect and help me like with James at her party. I remembered how betrayed and angry I'd felt at her for it. With both Rachel and me, she'd had good intentions, but her execution was all wrong.

"You know, Farrah did something similar to me before," I told her.

"She tried to set James and me up to kiss each other at her end-of-the-school-year party."

Rachel's eyes widened with sympathy for me.

"Oh no, that must have been so humiliating for you," she said, then disapprovingly shook her head. "See, that's why we are no longer friends. It is like she doesn't even care about what you want, just what she does."

"I understand how you feel, but I don't think she means to hurt people, Rachel."

I felt surprised at myself for standing up for Farrah.

When we first became friends, she annoyed me more often than not, and I didn't understand how anyone could put up with her for too long. I assumed she was living in her own little world, mostly oblivious to others' struggles.

But when I looked at all the pieces of the puzzle, I realized something.

The way she stood up for me and included me in things, and the empathy she showed me concerning everything that had happened with James, (like becoming my friend in the first place after he ditched me) let me know I was wrong to assume that.

Honestly.

Mom was right; I had misjudged her.

Farrah Harrington may not have thought things through very well, but that didn't mean she was a bad friend.

I tried explaining this to Rachel.

"I was angry with Farrah at first. But once we talked things out and got to the bottom of it, I found out she really was just trying to help me."

Rachel seemed to be giving deep thought to what I was saying, so I continued. "If I'd have just stayed offended and didn't give her a chance to explain things, I'd have missed out on finding out the reasoning, and I'd have lost a great friend."

Rachel scoffed at the last part of the sentence, but I kept going anyway.

"Don't get me wrong, now. I'm not saying what happened is all your fault. I'm just saying...sometimes things and people aren't always what they seem. And sometimes, even when you think someone is trying to hurt you, they may just be looking at things differently than you do," I finished.

My concluding statement made me think about how frustrated I'd been with James lately.

I wondered what exactly I was not seeing there.

I also wondered if or when the time came around and I found out what was going on with him, would I be as mature as I was telling Rachel to be?

I sure hoped so.

I wouldn't want to be a hypocrite or anything.

Rachel nodded her head.

"Thanks, Harlee," she smiled at me.

"For what?" I asked.

"Just for everything." She shrugged.

I smiled back at her and stood to my feet to finish cleaning. My mom would be home any minute now, and we'd hardly made any progress. I started filling the mop bucket with fresh soap, water, and vinegar, hoping it'd be enough to get the job finished. Rachel took that as her cue to start cleaning again too, but she paused in the middle of scrubbing the dishwasher again.

"You know, there is one thing I do miss about Farrah," she said, smiling sentimentally.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

Maybe their friendship can be mended, after all, a voice in my head said.

"If anyone could help me with my 'crush' on Evan, it'd be her. She's always been super boy crazy, you know?"

I nearly dropped the mop and bucket at her confession.

My crush radar had been right.

Or maybe it can't be mended, the voice in my head spoke again.

I let out a weak laugh and then turned away towards the sink. I mentally cursed myself for being right about these sorts of things all the time. Because now, more than ever, I wanted to be wrong.

Rachel seemed to notice my change in demeanor because she asked me,

"Is everything alright?"

"Yup, all is fine," I said, turning back around to face her.

"I'm surprised you're not being smug about the fact I finally admitted to liking him. I guess the cupcake thing made it pretty obvious," she stated, then started scrubbing again.

"Yup, exactly," I said, trying to figure out how to make sure Farrah and Rachel never found out they both liked the same guy.

There was no way Farrah would forgive Rachel if she knew she was after her dream guy. And I had a feeling Rachel knowing about Farrah's crush on Evan would make her despise her even more.

"It's not a good idea to seem desperate," I blurted out.

Maybe if I could just get her to be less obvious about her feelings for Evan. And somehow, convince Farrah to follow that same advice...

"So, don't tell anyone else about it, especially not Evan," I advised.

"In fact, I don't even think you ought to bring cupcakes to the party."

"Um, why not?" she asked.

"Because you're already going to his birthday party. And he already has a gift. If we show up with cupcakes, he's totally going to start getting the idea you like him," I explained.

Rachel pondered it for a moment. After a second, she nodded her head in agreement. "You're right. I've never been the kind to chase after a guy anyway. I just thought making cupcakes for him would give us a chance to talk. So I could redeem myself after the last two times." She giggled. "But you know what? That's dumb. If he really wants to talk to me, he just will. No questions about it," she concluded, sounding content with her decision.

"Yeah, totally," I agreed.

A little bit of relief washed over me.

That was one possible disaster avoided.

Now, I just had to make sure neither she nor Farrah did anything that could start another one.

No pressure, I thought to myself.


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