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  “Not sure. Then again, I’m not really sure if the whole party planning business is for me.” I lied.

  “Really?” Jake handed me a couple of extension tubes to pack away.

  “Well, I mean. Party planning? It seems like a job better suited for… well, I could probably name at least ten people who belong here more than I do—”

  “From where I’m standing, it looks like you belong here just fine. It’s one event. How do you know the job isn’t for you?” By the way he raised his eyebrows, with widened eyes, Jake looked genuinely concerned.

  “I don’t know. I guess, I never pictured myself doing this. It was a fun night, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not necessarily for me. I mean, Regina Matley, I get it. But the other stuff? Weddings? Graduations? Celebrity birthday parties? It all seems a little silly.” I shrugged my shoulders and kept on disassembling equipment.

  “Well, I think you should give yourself more credit and give Main Star a chance.”

  “Well, I think you should mind your own business.”

  Silence.

  After my backpack was full, I zipped it up and casually slung it over my shoulder.

  “Sage, I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” Jake finally said. “This is your business and your decision. I just thought you liked working with everyone here, based on your work they’d be crazy not to offer you a permanent opportunity, and jobs like this don’t fall from the sky.”

  “Stop that.” My ears felt clammy and hot, and the small baby hairs on the back of my neck felt slick against my skin. Why did people always have this incessant need to butt into my business and tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? For whatever reason, I’d managed to get this far along on my own. I wasn’t completely incompetent.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop acting like you care.”

  Jake backed away from me, his hands held up defensively, but the hurt in his eyes shone deep. I could tell from Jake’s reaction that he was somewhat taken off guard by that last comment.

  “I’m not acting like I care. Sage. I do care. I care about you. A lot.” His voice lowered “And all you ever do, whenever we seem to get closer, is push me away.”

  For a moment, I froze. Then slowly and deliberately, I continued, “Maybe that’s true, and maybe it isn’t. You don’t even know me.” I folded my arms across my chest in an act to appear defiant—but I knew the way I protectively hugged myself betrayed my true feelings. My vulnerability.

  “What do you mean? Sage, I’ve gotten to know so much about you in the little time I’ve known you. Quite frankly, I would love to learn more—”

  “You would love to learn more? Is that so?”

  “Yes, Sage. It is. You’re an awesome person. We get along incredibly well, and I’d like to give us a shot.”

  Panic, grief, excitement, confusion… they all jumbled together into one big bottomless lump that settled deep within my stomach. I briefly dared to stare directly into Jake’s eyes, but then instantly needed to look away. He had an effect on me that made me feel all sorts of emotions I had spent a lifetime trying to avoid. It was almost painful to hear him declare his feelings with such unfettered certainty.

  “That’s what you say now—but it won’t last,” I assured him. “Believe me. We’re better off as friends.”

  Tenderly, Jake took my hands into his own. “Why don’t you think I’ll still mean it in the future?”

  “Because you haven’t seen me at my worst. No one has.” I sighed and finally looked up at him, and I could just feel my voice fill with sadness. “Except for my parents. Once Farrah saw a hint of it. And it’s even too much for them to handle.”

  “Sage, everyone has—”

  “Everyone has what?” I demanded. “A mental illness? Something they need to take medication for, on a daily basis? And talk to a head doctor? And be monitored and questioned about every little thing?”

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “You don’t know what it’s like.” The words were more of a cry than an accusation, but it was like I couldn’t help myself from completely going off on him. “How dare you stand here and even pretend to try!”

  “First of all, why wouldn’t you think that I can handle all of it? And second, so what? So what if you have an illness? You are managing it. You are succeeding. Look at what you were a part of tonight. Sage, when you push yourself and believe in yourself, there’s nothing you can’t do. Besides, aren’t you the one who always says that your illness doesn’t define you?”

  “Jake, I… I don’t do relationships and the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing. Not seriously anyway, and there’s a reason for that.” I gently pulled away from him and crossed over to the tent’s exit. Then stood still.

  That reason, of course, being that any time I actually allowed a person in, it was inevitably too much for them to handle—so they always left. After a while, a girl could grow sick of always being the one left behind.

  “I’m not trying to force anything you don’t want.”

  “Then just let me be. Don’t worry about giving me a lift back. The subway’s just fine for me.”

  Jake looked crestfallen—but I knew that I was really doing him a favor in the long run. The time would inevitably come when he saw all of me—the unpretty. Not just the quick, sassy, fun girl dashing down the street, scrambling to take photos of puddles and rainbows and all that managed to catch her eye.

  No. He’d see the girl who couldn’t get out of bed. The one who could stare into space for hours, motionless, and just completely detach from reality. The one who needed a weighted blanket at night to feel safe, and always had to second guess whether or not her own thoughts and feelings were nothing more than a delusion. The one who had been hospitalized all those years ago, and had never quite been the same ever since.

  “I just thought that we got each other in a way that I haven’t really experienced before,” Jake confessed. “I thought you felt the same way, too.”

  The worst part of it all was that I did feel the same way. I just knew what it looked like when it got bad. He didn’t get it, but I was saving him.

  “I don’t even know what direction I’m going in. How can I expect you to be a part of it all?”

  Jake quietly walked back over to his bike and sat down. Then he looked over at me, sighed deeply, and asked, “Then, as just a friend, can I at least offer you a ride back home?”

  “As a friend.”

  “Yes, Sage. A friend.”

  And so, it was the craziest thing. He did just that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Farrah

  “Carmine Balduccio just CONCEDED THE RACE!”

  The announcement was followed instantly by a crowd erupting into deafening, thunderous applause. Hugs and cheers could be felt and heard all around; even a few tears were shed, if you could believe it. Full blown pandemonium broke out around us, and before I knew it, it became nearly impossible to see anything as flash after flash went off in our eyes, like little lightning bolts, each releasing its own blinding power. With my mouth frozen into a stiff and unmoving smile, I tried to peek over at my parents. All I could make out was their conjoined silhouette as they triumphantly raised their tightly clasped hands into the air, before my mother graciously stepped back and allowed my father the chance to bask in his special moment.

  Shielding my eyes from cameras, with a lifted arm held up as a barrier, I watched my mother closely as I slowly regained sight. If I didn’t know any better, there was a revealing instant where her eyes flickered with jealousy, before quickly reverting to that of a seemingly loving and supportive wife. A tightening grew in my chest, and I just knew that the wheels were turning inside of her, as she analyzed the many ways father’s victory would pan out for all her future endeavors.

  With squinted eyes, my attention traveled back to the crowd, then back to my mother—where I saw that look again. Not a single constituent, reporter, or even photographer seemed to notice, though, or care. It w
as my father’s night, a clear victory for the district, and at that very moment, his win was the only thing that mattered.

  Still, I remained frozen by her side, unable to move when she clamped down on my wrist with a stone-cold hand. Partly because I knew she wouldn’t let me, and partly because it felt as if the ground would give from underneath at any moment, should I budge in either direction.

  Strangely, my heart almost hurt. It wasn’t that I didn’t expect this moment to happen—in an urban New York City district like ours, my father’s win had pretty much been a slam dunk.

  It hurt because I knew the truth.

  I knew that my parents were together out of duty, not love. I knew that no matter how much good a person like my father could do in Washington, there was always a price to pay. It wasn’t that I doubted him, or his intentions, but I knew this would change us in a way that could never be undone.

  But it was the only world that I knew; and so, I stayed put and kept my mouth shut—playing the role of dutiful daughter. And I waited for just the right moment to safely slink away.

  *

  When it became clear that escaping headquarters, without inadvertently causing too much negative attention, had become a viable option, I arranged for a rideshare to come by and drive me back to the apartment. I’d had enough—no more pictures, interviews, or after parties—I desperately needed to get away!

  Once home, I shed my clothing (all haute couture garb Shauna’s dynamic duo had dressed me in) and I took a long, relaxing hot shower where I remained for almost an hour. There, I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the water, taking special care to thoroughly rid myself of all those caked on layers of makeup—even washing my false eyelashes down the drain—before finally returning to my bedroom. Rummaging through my dresser, I searched for, and found, a far more comfortable ensemble consisting of a t-shirt and sweatpants.

  I was exhausted. Almost ready to call it a night, I made one final round to the kitchen where I popped open a bottle of Merlot, straight from Napa, and poured myself a tall, satisfying glass—which I downed in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t long before I decided to have another—followed by another. Tired, yet unable to sit still, I felt the sudden urge to head up to the roof and watch the stars.

  Several long minutes passed me by, as I stood there watching both the clear November night sky and city life below. For a moment, I closed my eyes and took in every sound—every voice, car horn, and infinitesimal sign that there was life here, all around us.

  “Hey girl, what are you doing up here?”

  I opened my eyes. Sage and Kat were standing together at the roof’s entrance, Kat holding up a bottle of champagne she teasingly tipped back and forth. Despite my best efforts at that moment to appear calm, collected, and together, I instantly knew Sage could see the hurt, no matter how deeply I smiled.

  “Hey guys,” I said.

  “We wanted to surprise you at headquarters, but someone said you left,” Sage said.

  Kat added, “And you weren’t answering your texts.”

  “So we figured you’d be here.”

  “Thanks, you two.”

  Stepping away from the roof’s edge, I slowly approached them. Kat passed the bottle off to Sage and ran over to me, meeting me halfway, her face filled with sudden worry. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. After everything Kat and Parker had gone through, between their mother’s hospitalization and the war between the parents, my first world problems must have seemed utterly self-indulgent in comparison.

  “Farrah, what’s wrong?” Kat asked, looking completely bewildered by my current state. “It was a huge victory. Not just in New York—but everywhere! The entire political climate is turning around. Sage and I were surprised to hear you weren’t out celebrating. You look… sad. You shouldn’t be up here alone. And are those sweatpants?”

  Sage edged closer, joining us both, the champagne bottle held at a safe arm’s length before she placed it gingerly on the rooftop ground. “I’m not allowed to drink this stuff; it was Kat’s idea. So yeah, we thought you’d be happy. What gives?”

  I wasn’t exactly sure how to explain to either one of them the confusion and disappointment I felt on what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my parents’ lives. If this happened, even three months ago, old Farrah would have been racing down the FDR with friend, her head out a limo’s sunroof, wind whipping her hair all around as she belted her heart out to tune after tune on her playlist, fading into the night.

  “Sage voted for her district rep,” Kat offered. “Me too, in Connecticut.”

  “It’s true. We even got buttons,” Sage admitted, gesturing to the I Voted buttons each wore on her coat. “I’m becoming less apathetic and cynical in my later years. My dad voted, too.”

  “Just your dad?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “Welllllll, my mom voted too. However, most likely for a third-party candidate. She’s got a wildcard streak to her,” Sage said flatly. “Very, government get out of my way.”

  “Really?” Kat couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “Oh yeah. Don’t forget, my mom was raised by an old school firefighter who probably would have made an even better old school cop. Don’t take it personally. She probably went inside the booth and was all: Don’t tell me what I can’t do—while you’re at it, get off my lawn!” Sage smiled at the thought.

  “Have you ever wondered whether you were truly fulfilling what you’re here for?” I asked abruptly.

  “All the time,” Kat answered with unwavering certainty.

  “Are you kidding? My entire life has been a series of one existential crisis following another,” Sage chimed in. “Who has life figured out at twenty-two?”

  I smiled. “I know, I know. What I’m trying to get at is, have you ever felt like… like you were being pushed in a certain direction, or given set expectations, but you weren’t quite convinced they were the right path for you?”

  “Is this about working for Allison?” Sage asked. “Because if it is, she’s obnoxious and I think you can do way better. You should quit. Like, text her that. Now.”

  “Oh don’t say that,” Kat interjected. “Allison’s not that bad. Just a little overly-enthusiastic.”

  “It’s not enthusiasm, Kat, if you’re constantly over-reacting to every little thing and feel the need to blog about it on a nightly basis.”

  “Yeah, but Sage, you can’t just tell her to quit her job. People can’t just do tha—”

  “Never mind, you two,” I interrupted. Although they both meant well, I wasn’t feeling it at the moment.

  Sage and Farrah both looked at each other, then at me, then back at each other again.

  “Well, what exactly are you trying to say, Farrah?” Sage finally asked, earnestly perplexed by my behavior.

  I sighed. “Look, I am so happy for my father right now—both my parents. They have both wanted this for as long as I could remember. And I truly believe that my father will go on to accomplish great things in Washington. It’s just that sometimes it feels as if we’re all so focused on the politics, and the game, and the overall production that we fail to make an actual difference in the lives of real people.”

  “You care about the lives of real people?” Sage asked, sounding more confused than ever before.

  “Sage, don’t say that,” Kat quietly chastised under her breath.

  “Sorry. I mean, are you talking about helping people at the grassroots level?” Sage asked, and surprisingly enough without a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

  “Yes, that’s somewhat close to what I mean. I guess what I’m trying to say is that for the longest time, I’ve been focused on art and fashion, racking up followers, and making all the right moves a woman my age is supposed to make. However, in the end, it all seems… well… fake.”

  Kat nodded. “I get it. Hello, I lived with a woman like that almost my entire life—my mother, in case you were wondering. Look where it got her.”

  “Honestly,” Sage sa
id, “I always did what I wanted to do, even when it meant really sticking it to someone and making them squirm—come to think of it, especially when it meant I got to really stick it to someone! Why pretend to be someone you’re not? I say, rattle a few cages.”

  “Well, I’m trying to figure out where to go from here,” I expanded. “It’s not in the political realm, and it’s not going to be found in Allison’s shop, either.”

  “So do you want us for a girl-advice moment right now?” Kat asked. “Or, a just-be-there- for-your-friend moment?”

  “The second.”

  Without saying another word, the two of them brought me in for a hug. For the very first time in what felt like ages, I felt some semblance of relief and acceptance. It was more than that smug feeling whenever I knew that I was the it-girl in the room, any adrenaline rush from a like, and it was far greater than the satisfaction I’d get from winning. They were my true best friends and accepted me for who I was—no matter what. Confusion, sweatpants, completely stripped of false pretense. All of it.

  Together, we turned toward the skyline and watched the city and stars beyond.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sage

  “Kat, are you sure this is a good idea?”

  The three of us—Kat, Farrah, and I—sat inside the parking lot of Westchester Airport, huddled together in my mom’s aging blue sedan. The heater emitted a faint buzzing sound, causing a strange tingling sensation in my left ear. I worried it would give on us at any moment.

  It was the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, and what had initially been a low-key Friendsgiving dinner had become unexpectedly more. Kat had decidedly reached the final straw. Having had enough of her father’s egocentrism, her mother’s departure from reality, and realizing there was more out there for her younger brother, Parker, Kat had made a last minute decision to fly out to Wisconsin, claiming to want reconnection with her mother’s estranged sister.