Chapter 55 Extra _ Reconciliation.
Chapter 55 Extra _ Reconciliation.
The house felt empty.
It was three days after graduation, and the frantic energy of the ceremony had settled into a heavy, stagnant silence. My mother was out running errands, and for the first time in weeks, I was completely home alone. And for some reason since graduation I had begun to miss Amy.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, my hand gripping the banister until my knuckles turned white. I looked up toward the guest room, the room that was supposed to be Amy’s until she moved away to college. I remember the joy my mom felt as she painstakingly decorated with extra pillows and soft lighting because she wanted Amy to feel at home after her own mother moved across the state.
Amy had lived here. She had eaten at our table, borrowed my hoodies, and whispered secrets into the dark of my bedroom. And then, she had become obsessed with Cross, which brought out the worst version of herself.
A sharp knock on the door broke through my thoughts. I wondered who it could be as I walked down the stairs, i didn't really have anyone visit me at home except Cross, but the only reason he wasn't here right now was because he had to run errands for his mom, and would probably come over when he's done.
As I swung the door open and my eyes widened in surprise. Amy was standing in front of me. She was wearing a oversized hoodie, one I recognized as Eliza's, her blonde hair, usually perfectly curled and gleaming, was pulled into a messy, frizzy knot.
She looked small. For the first time in the years I’d known her, the "it-girl" was gone.
"I didn't think you'd be home," she said, her voice raspy.
"It’s my house, Amy," I said softly. My voice felt foreign in my own ears. “What are you doing here?”
The sight of her face hit me like a physical blow. Her eyes were red-rimmed and sunken, the sharp, fashionable confidence she usually wore like armor having completely crumbled. There was no makeup, no smirk, no biting remark ready to fly. Just a raw, distressed girl who looked like she’d been screaming into a pillow for forty-eight hours.
I couldn't help but pity her.
"I’m almost done," she said, gesturing vaguely at the suitcases. Her fingers were trembling, a fine, rhythmic shaking that she couldn't hide even when she tucked her hands into her sleeves. "I’ll be out of your hair by tonight. Eliza is picking me up."
She had made up an obviously false story about forgetting some of her stuff in the get room even when I knew that was a lie I let her in anyways. She even came with suitcases, the nerve.
"Why, Amy?" I asked. I didn't want to yell. I was too tired for anger. I just wanted the answer to the question that had been keeping me awake since the night Cross showed me the fake texts she had formulated.
Amy laughed, but it was a dry, brittle sound that broke in the middle. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slouching. "Why? Because I’m a loser, Clara. Because I’ve spent my whole life being the girl people look at, but never the girl people actually see."
"That’s not true. You had everything. You had the team, you had the friends, you had a place in this house…"
"I had a hook-up!" she snapped, her eyes flashing with a sudden, momentary spark of the old Amy. "I had one night with Cross, and I built an entire identity around it. I thought... I thought if I was the one he chose back then, it meant I was special. I thought I was in his league."
She looked down at her lap, her breathing becoming shallow and fast. "And then I watched him look at you. I watched him change his entire life, his entire personality, just to be with you, a girl who didn't even want him at first. It made me feel invisible. It made me feel like all the pretty and all the fashion was just... trash."
I felt a prickle of heat behind my eyes. I thought about the bet. The madness that resulted in all of this.
"So you decided it was ok to humiliate me?" I asked, my voice trembling. "First you kissed Kevin, granted I really don't care about that but the only reason it hurt was because it was you that did it. You tried to make Cross think I was using him, through fake texts. You even tried to make him reject me before I could even have a chance."
"I wanted you to feel how I felt," she whispered, a stray tear finally escaping and carving a path through the dust on her cheek. "I wanted you to be the one rejected. I thought if I broke you, maybe he’d look back at me and see the girl who was easier. The girl who didn't make him work so hard. I didn't account for his feelings for you being so strong, I was delusional and genuinely thought that I had a chance with him.”
She reached over to a small box on the nightstand, the one my mother had given her for her jewelry. She pulled out a photo. It was a polaroid of us from last summer, taken in the backyard before the world got complicated.
We were both covered in flour from a failed baking attempt, laughing so hard our eyes were shut.
"Do you remember that day?" she asked, her voice small. "Your mom made us those fruit smoothies, and we sat on the porch talking about how we were going to be roommates in college? How we were going to be bridesmaids at each other's weddings?"
I looked at the photo, and for a second, the anger was replaced by a crushing, physical grief. I remembered that day. I remembered feeling like I finally had a sister. I remembered Amy being the only one who could make me laugh when I was stressed about anything.
There were pieces of her that were genuinely kind, pieces that had been buried under the toxic, desperate need for validation from a guy who was never hers to begin with.
"I loved you, Amy," I said, the words feeling heavy and jagged in the room. "You were like the sister i never had. Even if i knew we had differentpersonalities, i was always making excuses for you, tryingto understand you."
Amy sobbed then…a deep, visceral sound that made her entire body shake. She doubled over, her face in her hands, her hair falling around her like a shroud.
"I know," she choked out. "That’s the worst part. I knew you were the only one who actually cared about me, and in my delusion I still chose him. And don't get me wrong I'm not saying he's a bad person, i see you guys together and i see how smitten he is with you, but he wasn't my person, no matter how badly i wished he was, he just wasn't and i took to long to realise."
I stood there, watching her fall apart. This was the pitiful reality of Amy. She wasn't a villain in a movie, she was a girl who had been hollowed out by her own insecurities. She had sabotaged the only good thing she had left because she couldn't stand to see someone else be have what she couldn't.
I walked over to the bed and sat down, though I kept a distance between us. The air between us was thick.
"I can't forgive you yet," I said, my voice steady despite the thrumming in my chest. "What you did with Kevin... what you did with the texts... it changed me, Amy. It hurt me, you hurt me Amy. It made me doubt myself, my worth."
She nodded, her head still down. "I don't expect you to. I wouldn't forgive me either."
"But," I continued, looking at her messy hair and her trembling hands. "I don't want to hate you. Hating you takes too much energy, and I’m tired."
Amy lifted her head, her face blotchy and eyes swollen. "What are you saying?"
"I’m saying that you should finish packing. Go to Eliza’s. Go to college. And maybe... maybe try to find out who you are when you aren't trying to capture someone’s attention."
I reached out, my fingers hovering over the polaroid on the bed. I didn't pick it up. I just let it stay there, a memory of a version of us that no longer existed.
"You were a good sister once, Amy," I whispered. "I’ll try to remember that version of you. Not the one who ran away to Eliza's because she was caught."
Amy wiped her face with the back of her hand, a ragged, exhausted movement. "Cross... does he know I’m here?"
"No. And I’m not going to tell him. He doesn't think about you, Amy. And I think that’s the hardest truth you have to accept."
The words were sharp, but they were true. Cross didn't hate Amy; he was just indifferent to her. To him, she was a footnote from a life he was trying to leave behind. To me, she was a scar.
We sat in silence for a long time. The shadows in the room lengthened as the sun began to set, painting the walls in shades of bruised orange and deep purple.
I watched her pack the rest of her things. She moved slowly, almost mechanically, folding the cheerleading uniforms she would never wear again. She tucked the polaroid into the side pocket of her suitcase, the only piece of this house she was taking with her.
"Clara?" she said as she zipped the last bag.
"Yeah?"
"Tell your mom... tell her I’m sorry. Tell her thank you for the room. For the fruit smoothies. For everything."
"I’ll tell her."
I walked her down the stairs. The house felt different now, it felt lighter. We stood on the porch, the evening air cool and smelling of cut grass.
A car pulled into the driveway, Eliza’s car, the bass from the music vibrating through the gravel. Eliza didn't get out. She just waited, the headlights cutting through the dusk.
Amy picked up her bags. She looked at me one last time, her eyes searching for something, a sign, a smile, a reason to stay. I didn't give it to her. I just stood there, my arms crossed, watching the girl who used to be my sister walk down the steps.
She got into the car without looking back. As the taillights faded into the distance, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
I went back inside and locked the door. I walked up to the guest room and stood in the center of the empty space. It was just a room again. No uniforms, no perfume, no secrets.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I saw a text from Cross, a picture of a sunset and a message asking if I was okay.
Clara: I’m okay, love.
Cross: I'm done with mom, omw now.
I realized then that Amy wasn't necessarily a monster. She was stil figuring out life, trying to shape her life into the best version she could. We were all trying.
I didn't let myself dwell in it, nor did I get the faint pang in my chest stop me as I walked downstairs to make sandwiches, knowing that I had a boyfriend who was always hungry.
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A/N: This is like a redemption arc for Amy, I didn't want to make her out to be evil, because teenagers do really dumb shit most of the time and I feel like she needs a little grace, hence why I wanted you guys to see things from her perspective...
I'm not sure if I like it tho..
Anyways.., it's a wrap fr this time 🙏🏿❤️
Side note; this book is doing a hell lot better that expected, I mean, 7k views ??
You guys are the best!