The Secret Recipe for Moving On by Karen Bischer (ebook reader for manga txt) 📕

“The party.…” Greta bites her lip and scrunches her nose in thought, then her eyes brighten. “Yeah, we’d been split for about a week at that point, but we were trying to stay friends. I was in a bad mood that night because Evan blew me off. I didn’t tell Luke that, of course, but I shouldn’t have gone. But I’m kind of glad I did, because I got to see that Luke was at least moving on.”

She raises an eyebrow at me pointedly and I feel my face flush. I try to make a noise of apology but it’s lodged in my throat.

“I thought something was brewing between you guys. He was trying to act all closed off when he saw you, and I knew.”

“Nothing happened while you guys were together,” I manage to say.

Now she laughs, a hearty, musical chortle. “Oh, I know. I thought if something was going to happen between you guys, at least Luke would be happy and I’d feel a little less guilty about, like, emotionally cheating on him. So I left that night, hoping it would nudge something between you two, I guess. My reasons were completely selfish, I can’t lie.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. How am I such a colossal idiot?

I must look completely stricken because Greta pats my arm. “Seriously, it’s okay, I know you didn’t move in on him while we were—” She pauses. “But wait, that would imply that something did happen eventually, but it doesn’t look like you’re together now.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “Long story. Very long, very stupid story. Pretty much all my fault.”

A tall older woman who resembles Greta and has to be her mother comes out of the store then. “Ready to hit the road? We’ve got six hours of driving ahead of us.”

Greta nods and gathers her snowboard, then she turns back to me. “Listen, I don’t really want to talk up my ex because he’s, like, still my ex and that’s just weird, but he’s a good dude. And he’s not really great at holding grudges. Just in case that means anything to you.”

“Thanks. And, uh, good luck training,” I croak as she and her mom walk away.

I can only stare at my cart full of groceries. I just wasted the last few weeks being angry and self-righteous over something that didn’t even happen. That Luke had even kept speaking to me is crazy. I wouldn’t speak to me.

How can you make an apology big enough for that?

CHAPTER 27

On Friday morning I have three agendas:

One: Return to school and keep my head held high if anyone makes fun of me for my fight with Jared. We have an early dismissal today, so at least any snarky asides will be confined between the hours of seven thirty and noon.

But it’s easier than I thought, considering when I walk in, I get a literal ovation from the stoners who hang out outside the cafeteria. Callie Gorman even shakes my hand and cheers, “That fight was the most righteous thing I’ve seen. Give ’em hell, Ellie.”

And it’s not an isolated incident. In the short time I’m in the building, I get high fives, salutes, and thumbs-ups from anyone passing me. I guess I underestimated how many peoples’ lives have been made hell because of The Buzz.

Speaking of, Jared didn’t write up our brawl, but I knew there was no way he’d post about himself being beaten up by a girl. He must have had an appointed proxy in his absence, however, because while The Buzz’s posts have been scant, there was one about some kind of huge fight between Brynn and Hunter that seemed to span all the days I was out.

Destiny Done?

This formerly destined pair is apparently on the verge of a breakup, if their constant public spats are any indication. A classroom confrontation over alleged cheating has led to more arguments, culminating in a very audible fight over lies surrounding one’s college choice. Sources whisper it may be over between them.

So I guess Hunter came clean about Tufts. Still, after I read that, I make a point to delete The Buzz from my phone’s search history, and vow not to visit it anymore. It’s the start of the “Ellie doesn’t care what you say about her anymore” era, and that means killing gossip sources at their root.

Number two on the agenda: Start the road to reconciliation with Luke.

I labored all yesterday over an apology email—which I sent to Jodie for approval as I was writing, to which she replied this is great. JUST CALL HIM THO—which I intend to send after I make a total fool of myself on the morning TV broadcast.

My palms sweat as I wait for Mia to throw it to me for the forecast. She finishes a story about tryouts for the spring musical, then grins at me.

“And now back from her well-earned hiatus, here’s Ellie Agresti with the weather.”

I force my perkiest smile. “Thanks, Mia. This weekend’s forecast looks great, with clear skies and highs in the forties. We’re watching a potential nor’easter that may give us some snow Tuesday into Wednesday, but it’s too early to say what track it’s going to take and how much snow it would give us, so don’t go making any snow day plans just yet. But fear not, tonight, we’ll be enjoying clear conditions for the winter dance, with lows around thirty-two.”

I basically spit that out at lightning speed, causing Chris and Mia to exchange a nervous glance, probably freaking out there’s going to be a huge time gap to fill. So I quickly add, “If I can, there’s something I want to say about, uh, recent events.”

Mia nods vigorously, though Chris is frowning apprehensively. He eventually nods, though, and I pull out the index card I carefully filled out last night. My hand is shaking, so I try holding it with both hands.

“As many of you