Two Steps Forward

"Well, what did the note say?" Milly asked, hovering a chip over her mouth. My heart panged in memory of the emotion I felt that night, the emotion that still lingered.

"See for yourself," I say glumly before making a slow walk from my bed to the closet—the place I stashed the letter.

"Wait, you still have it?" Milly's eyes widen in a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

I grab the note from out of my boots and transfer it to Milly's hand. She unfolds it slowly, as if the paper itself is actually made up of my delicate feelings. Her eyes, brimming with concern, dart between me and the paper.

"It's okay. I've read it like, a thousand times already," I assure her.

Milly's hand offers mine a quick squeeze before she reads it aloud, "'You're beautiful, smart, clever, funny, and your eyes...There's something about them that can draw in anyone, even from a million miles away. And now that I've seen yours up close, I realize you're not the girl you've been pretending to be after all this time. Even though I asked you first, it's going to have to be a no for me. Let's not do this after all. Let's make the most of senior year without each other. Good luck with everything, I guess.' Curry. Curry? This is from him?"

Milly shakes her head violently before announcing, "I don't buy it."

"What do you mean?" I sit back down, semi proud of myself for not shedding a tear like I did every other time I re-read the note.

"Whoever this girl is that he's talking about here, it can't be you. There's no way."

"Then who could it be, Milly? All the references he made in the letter, it's things we talked about. Things he said to me before. I messed up somehow. I really screwed this up, Mills. "

"I don't know but—if it is you...This has to be some sort of misunderstanding, or something Carls. You're not whatever he's imagining you to be in his head. You're not the girl in this letter."

"Maybe I hurt him or got him hurt somehow. I don't know. After Prong night he came back to school with a black eye. And his arm..."

"His right arm, his throwing arm, has been in a cast ever since," Milly finishes my sentence. "But there's no way any of that is your fault. Carlie, you wouldn't even push Brittney Maritolli back after she shoved you in eighth grade. You're a pacifist! And suddenly you went all Hulk on Curry Meyers for no reason? No. There's no way."

I'm grateful and happy that Milly believes in me so much, but another feeling is pushing against that happiness. Deep down in my gut, though I haven't been able to fish out all the details just yet, I know that I did something wrong. I  somehow hurt Curry and by extension, I injured myself too. I ruined our chances of being happy together.

I collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, allowing the guilt of that night to rise back to the surface of my mind like a heavy fog. The guilt of betraying Curry's trust, the guilt of not telling Milly any of this sooner, and the guilt of lying to my mom still after all these weeks. 

I didn't get home until three am that night, taking an early bus that I didn't even pay the fare to. My hair a mess, the overwhelming scent of alcohol seeping through my pores even after I tried rinsing with mouthwash.

Worst of all, when I got home, mom didn't even say anything to me or mention the party--not the next day or even after that. She just pointed me to the kitchen table where a warm plate of spaghetti, tall glass of water, and aspirin bottle was waiting for me.Every bite of the noodles, sauce, and sausage was delicious, and  with each swallow it only seemed to add another pound of guilt in the pit of my stomach.

When I was done I rinsed my plate off, trudged upstairs, and collapsed onto bed until my tears finally carried me to sleep.

Although it should've seemed obvious to me, I've never been sure on exactly what I cried for that night. I think it was a mixture of things, of losing Curry, disappointing my mom and myself, and not being able to even remember what I did to screw everything up so badly. Every decision I made that night, from putting on that stupid peasant dress and beyond just feels worthless. A  night that was meant for gains only ended in losses. Though she hasn't said anything, I've lost my mom's trust and respect for me, I lost Curry, I lost myself.

"I swear," I say to no one in particular, not even to Milly, "every time I make tiny baby steps towards the one thing I want, I always end up messing it up and now I'm just back to where I started. No, it's worse than that. This time I screwed it all up. I can't make up for any of it. Ever. Mom hates me, Curry hates me, I hate me."

I drape my hand over my face to hide my tears, my voice devolves into a gurgling mess.

Milly settles next to me and lays on her side, "You know that's not true, Carls. You shouldn't be carrying all this blame alone. Was it smart to drink God-knows-what? No. But all this drama isn't on you. There's got to be a bigger picture here. It just..."

"What?" I wipe my eyes and suck up the snot dripping from my nose with a flurry of sniffles. I recognize that look on her face, the rarest of rarest Milly modes. Her eyebrows are furrowed, eyes drifted to the side in thought, and her bottom lip jutting out. This is Detective Milly.

"What is it, Milly?" I pop back up and shaker her gently to free her from her own mind.

"It just sounds shady to me that Diane Nagali of all people gave you a drink."

"Well, everybody was drinking,"

"Carls, you can't be this naïve all your life, okay? You are not gonna make it, girlie. Listen, she gave you both an open drink. Even after you said no she practically begged you until you gave in. Isn't that weird? Like she wanted you to drink it. Like she was desperate."

Oh. I begin to put the pieces together, "Are you saying...she did something to the punch? Like spiked it?"

"I'm not saying she did and I'm not not saying she did either. It just doesn't seem right to me, is all I'm trying to get at."

"Diane's obnoxious, but she wouldn't do that. Would she?"

"I think it's great and all that you always see the best in people, but that doesn't mean you have to be blind to the facts. Anyway, it's not about would she do it. I'm thinking more along the lines of why."

"This is giving me a headache. Can we talk about something else now?" I groan.

"Fine. I'll lay off for now, but just one last thing," she holds a spindly finger up, "You need to talk to Curry. Pinestay is a perfect opportunity to get things straight with him and figure out what happened. You can't let this hang over you forever. It's not healthy."

"Milly, I can't," my stomach sinks just at the thought of it, "Promise me you won't say anything to him either. Please," I tug on her sleeve like a whine-y little toddler.

Milly rolls her eyes, and she flicks the conversation away, "Fine, whatever. You got it. But you can't run from him forever."

"I know," I mumble.

"Hey, what size panties do you wear?" She suddenly blurts out.

"Medium, why?"

"Because you need to buy some new ones. It's time for you to put your big girl panties on, Carls."

"Yeah, I know."

But it's gonna take a whole lot more than granny panties and what-ifs to confront Diane and Curry. Milly says I can't run, but with summer vacation just around the corner, I'll pack some sunscreen and my best running shoes. I won't even be caught in the same room as Curry Meyers.