Sweet Like Revenge

52 - Army on the March

My breath hitched in my throat. My body tensed as though it expected a bomb to explode.

All that met me was silence. Silence deafening enough that it caused me to wonder whether I'd spoken at all.

"Well," I heard myself go on. "Technically I'm Anabelle Roxford."

But that name didn't feel any better rolling off my tongue. Only after saying it did I realize that I wasn't just preparing to tell everyone else my real name. I was preparing to say it out loud, as well. To settle on one again. But all of the variations—Anabelle Anderson, Anabelle Roxford, Ana, Elle—none of them felt right anymore. I didn't know if I was all of them or none of them.

All I knew was that they didn't fit.

"What are you talking about?" Chontelle finally asked. She was the closest to me, the first of the blurry faces that came back into focus. Her expression grew furious in a matter of seconds, her chocolate brown eyes darting in the direction of the ballroom and back. "Did Matt spike you again?"

"No, I—" 

"Kat? Did you give her something?"

Kat's face grew hot as she stood. "What? No!"

"Well someone did. Elle, what have you had to drink tonight?"

I could only stare at Chon silently. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that she still didn't get it. That none of them did.

But, then again, why would they? It had been their amnesia that I'd taken advantage of in the first place. It was that same obliviousness that had allowed me to come back to Irvine Falls as a different person and remain unrecognized for so long. It was the fact that to them, what happened between us in seventh grade was nothing more than ancient history. A fleeting moment in time. A drop in the barrel of everything else that had happened and everyone else that had been and gone in the time since. I was the only one who had made seventh grade my whole world. They had all moved on.

Their confusion was a cold, hard slap in the face. But it was one that I needed. 

"Alright," I started, preparing to divulge it all. Preparing to give them the SparkNotes summary of what happened then and why it mattered now. 

Nate stopped me.

He stood, the bewildered expression on his face catching my eye. When his sharp features evened out again, something had lifted in his gaze.

"Anabelle," he muttered. Before I could confirm, he turned to Sienna. "Ana. Astor's Ana."

"What?" I spat. "No! Not Astor's Ana—"

"Astor's Ana," Sienna murmured back to Nate, her eyes locked on his.

"Wait," Kat spat incredulously. "Astor is Ana?"

Chontelle groaned loudly. "Why are we talking about Astor?"

"Because she's Ana," Nate repeated.

"Who's Ana?"

"I'm Ana."

"Who?" Chon and Kat asked once more.

"Isabelle." Sienna was sitting again. Her eyes were plastered on mine, but hers were as hazy as mist on a windshield. Her voice was low in her throat, a contrast to its usual commanding tone. "Isabelle ... Anabelle."

Another slap in the face. Another reminder that to them, I was unmemorable.

Kat raised a hand to her head, hitting it playfully against her temple. "Oh, right, it was Anabelle ..." Her broad grin fell while the rest of her face scrunched up in thought. She turned back around to peer at me, her eyelids fluttering across every inch of my face. "Wait ..."