Solitaire

AT 12:16 A.M. I go inside because if I don’t pee I think my bladder will erupt. Everyone is waiting for Solitaire’s blog post, which, according to recent rumor, will be published at 12:30 a.m. People are sitting, phones in their hands. I find the bathroom and when I leave it, I see Lucas, alone in a corner, texting. He sees me staring and jumps up, but rather than walking toward me, he quickly exits. Like he’s trying to avoid me.

I follow him into the living room, intending to apologize for forgetting about hanging out with him today, but he doesn’t see me. I watch as he wanders up to Evelyn. She is wearing these hooped earrings, chunky heels, leggings with upside-down crosses on them, and a faux-fur coat. Her messy hair is piled up on the top of her head. Lucas, similarly, is in tonight’s hipster getup—a loose Joy Division T-shirt with the sleeves rolled, too-tight jeans, and desert boots. Lucas says something to her, and she nods back at him. That’s it, I’ve decided. Despite what Lucas said, they are definitely a couple.

I go back outside. It has finally started to snow. Properly. The music’s over, but everyone’s skipping around, screaming, trying to catch flakes in their mouths. I look out at the scene. The flakes float on the water and dissolve, joining with the river as it sails past me toward the sea. I love snow. Snow can make anything beautiful.

It’s then that I see Becky again.

She’s with a guy up against a tree, and I know she’s definitely still drunk because they’re not even kissing romantically. I’m about to turn away, but then they move around a little and I see who the guy is.

It’s Ben Hope.

I don’t know how long I stand there, but at some point he opens his eyes and sees me. Becky looks too. She giggles and then she realizes. I got a drink on my way out but it’s spilt on the snow now and my hand is just cupping the air. They recoil from me, and then Ben hurries past me and into the house. Becky stays by the tree.

She raises her eyebrows at me when I reach her and says, “What?”

I wish I were dead. My hands clench and unclench.

She laughs. “What, for God’s sake!”

Becky has betrayed me anyway. Because she doesn’t care.

“Everything I thought about you,” I say, “is wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Am I hallucinating this?”

“Are you drunk?”

“You are a nasty bitch,” I say. I think I’m shouting, but I can’t really tell. I’m only seventy percent sure I’m saying any of this out loud. “I used to think that you were just forgetful, but now I have solid proof that you just don’t care.”

“Wh—”

“Don’t try acting like you don’t know what you’ve just done. Grow a backbone. Go on, try and defend yourself. I am literally dying to hear your justification. Are you going to tell me that I don’t understand?”

Becky’s eyes begin to fill with tears. As if she’s actually upset. “I’m not—”

“That’s it, isn’t it? I’m your naive little friend whose sad little life makes you feel better about yourself. Well, you’re absolutely spot-on there. I haven’t got a single clue about anything. But you know what I do know? I know when someone is being a nasty bitch. Go ahead and cry your stupid little crocodile tears if you want to. You don’t fucking care at all, do you?”

Becky’s voice is sober now, if a little wobbly, and she begins to shout at me. “Well—you—you’re the one being a nasty bitch! Jesus Christ, just calm down!”

I pause. This is bad. I need to stop. I can’t. “I’m sorry—do you have any comprehension of the level of betrayal you have just committed? Do you have any concept of friendship? I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that selfish, but clearly I’ve been wrong all this time.” I think I’m crying. “You’ve killed me. You’ve literally killed me.”

“Calm down! Oh my God, Tori!”

“You have solidly proven that everyone and everything is shit. Well done. Gold star. Please delete yourself from my life.”

And that is it. I am gone. I am gone. I guess everyone is like this. Smiles, hugs, years together, holidays, late-night confessions, tears, phone calls, one million words—they don’t mean anything. Becky doesn’t care. No one really cares.

The snowfall is blurring my vision, or maybe it’s the tears. I stumble back to the house and just as I enter, people start screaming and holding their phones above their heads. I can’t stop crying, but I manage to get out my phone and find the Solitaire page and there is the post:

00:30 23 January
Solitairians.
We would like you to collaborate on our latest venture.
At our meet-up tonight, there is a Higgs Year 12 named Ben Hope who has deliberately injured a Truham Year 11. Ben Hope is a known homophobe and a bully, who hides behind the facade of popularity.

We hope that you will join Solitaire in preventing such acts of violence in the future by giving him exactly what he deserves.

Act accordingly. Protect the unprotected. Justice is everything. Patience Kills.