“Was it you?” My voice echoes against the walls.
Genevieve’s hand goes still. Then she recovers, and screws the top back on her lip balm. “Was
what me?”
“Did you send that video to Anonybitch?”
“No,” she scoffs. Her mouth turns up to the right, the smallest of quivers. That’s when I know she’s
lying. I’ve seen her lie to her mom enough times to know her tell. Even though I suspected it, maybe
even knew it deep down, this confirmation takes my breath away.
“I know we’re not friends anymore, but we used to be. You know my sisters, my dad. You know
me. You knew how much this would hurt me.” I clench my fists to keep from crying. “How could you
do something like this?”
“Lara Jean, I’m sorry this happened to you, but it honestly wasn’t me.” She gives me a
pseudosympathetic shrug, and there it is again: The corner of her mouth turns up.
“It was you. I know it was. Once Peter finds out.. .”
She raises one eyebrow. “He’ll what? Kick my ass?”
I’m so angry my hands shake. “No, because you’re a girl. But he won’t forgive you either. I’m glad
you did it if it proves to him what kind of person you really are.”
“He knows exactly what kind of person I am. And you know what? He still loves me more than
he’ll ever like you. You’ll see.” With that she turns on her heel and walks away.
This is when it dawns on me. She’s jealous. Of me. She can’t stand that Peter’s with me and not
her. Well, she just played herself, because once Peter finds out she’s the one who did this to us, he’ll
never look at her the same way again.
When school lets out, I race to the parking lot, where Peter is in his car waiting for me with the heat
on. As soon as I open the passenger side door, I gasp out, “It was Genevieve!” I scramble inside.
“She’s the one who sent the video to Anonybitch. She just admitted it to me!”
Soberly he asks me, “She said she took the video? She said those exact words?”
“Well... no.” What were her exact words? I walked away feeling like she’d confessed, but now
that I’m going over it in my head, she never out-and-out admitted it. “She didn’t admit it per se, but
she practically did. Also, she did that thing with her mouth!” I turn up the corner of my mouth. “See?
That’s her tell!”
He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Covey.”
“Peter!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to her.” He starts the car.
I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this question, but I have to ask. “Have any teachers said
anything to you about the video? Maybe Coach White?”
“No. Why? Has anyone said anything to you?”
This is what Margot was talking about, this double standard. Boys will be boys, but girls are
supposed to be careful: of our bodies, of our futures, of all the ways people judge us. Abruptly I ask
him, “When are you going to talk to Genevieve?”
“I’ll go over there tonight.”
“You’re going over to her house?” I repeat.
“Well, yeah. I have to see her face to know whether she’s lying or not. I’ll check out this ‘tell’