The Art of Being Alone (Together)

21 | The Right Thing

I carefully tilt the plastic jar of glitter and watch as it all collects into the plastic bag. It's dark in Rita's cabin, and the five girls sleep silently in their beds, oblivious to my presence.

I guess I should explain how I got here and why I feel so sick to my stomach with guilt over what I'm doing.

At breakfast the morning after movie night, Lizzie gasped while eating her oatmeal and dropped her spoon so suddenly that some of the warm cereal splattered and ended up on her glasses lense. She didn't even bother cleaning them, flailing her hands excitedly as Zack and I looked on with wide eyes. To my dismay, she'd just had a breakthrough and had thought of a prank that was equal parts brilliant and evil.

I can boil her plan down to two words: Glitter. Everywhere. In Rita and Mei's clothes, in their shampoos and their soaps, in their hairbrushes and sneakers. They'll probably be finding glitter on their belongings well into the next decade.

Or at least they would be, if I wasn't such a backstabber.

While we worked through the plan yesterday, I volunteered to do the glitter dumping. Of course I did. Because if I did it, then I could not do it, and Lizzie and Zack would be none the wiser. They'd think I went along with the plan and that Rita and Mei had somehow de-glittered everything. Meanwhile, Rita and Mei would think we never retaliated, and the prank war would silently come to an end.

Lizzie and Zack won't hate me for not wanting to continue, and I'm saving all of us from getting kicked out of camp. It's the right thing to do. So why do I feel so terrible stuffing the glitter-filled baggy into my hoodie?

I take a deep breath, waiting for a moment so it seems like I'm following the plan. The minute is long, filled with the sounds of Rita's snores— which would be funny if I wasn't so distracted— and the crickets outside. The more seconds that go by, the heavier the weight in my gut seems to become. Once I walk out of this cabin, there's no turning back. I'll officially have made my choice.

With another shaky breath, I carefully leave the cabin. I force a smile as I head down the steps towards Lizzie, returning her thumbs up. She jumps up and down, silently clapping her hands, and I'm brought back to the panty-planting prank. I'd felt so giddy that night, I'd had so much fun. Now I just feel like the life has been sucked out of me and like my fake grin might collapse at any second.

"We are so the dream team," Lizzie whispers as we tip-toe back to the woods to let Zack know we're finished. The baggy presses against my abdomen, reminding me of what I've done— or rather, didn't do— with every step. "I mean, seriously. I don't know how I would've survived another year of Rita without you, Del."

The words are like a kick right to the gut. If Lizzie can see the tears in my eyes shining in the moonlight, I hope she thinks they're from happiness and not from the harsh sting of regret that burns through my veins, so intense it almost makes me nauseas.

This is the right thing to do, I tell myself over and over, hoping my heart will agree with my head soon enough.

What Lizzie doesn't know can't hurt her, even if it eats at me forever.

• • • 🌻 • • •

At breakfast the next morning, Lizzie and Zack both have their eyes trained on the doorway, eagerly awaiting Rita and Mei's sparkly entrance. I don't even try to play along— I can't take the lie that far. Most of me regrets doing it at all, but what's done is done, and I can't take it back.

When Lizzie's eyes widen and Zack's jaw drops, I don't even have to turn around to know what they're looking at. But I do anyway, because looking at their disappointed faces is harder to handle that I realized it would be.