i posted this on ao3 a while ago lol but i decided i might as well post it here too, bc posie owns my soul~
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August nights are hot, humid, and horrible—the first day of junior year is no exception.
Josie sits with Lizzie by the pool, inhales the scent of chlorine and burning marshmallows and swallows the lukewarm beer on her tongue. The backyard is alit with bonfires even in the sweltering heat, and their spot has one of the showiest fire pits by far; Kaleb's parties are legendary like that.
"This is disgusting," Lizzie says, setting aside her second bottle of the night. For as much as she complains, she still reaches for a third.
Josie says nothing about it. Instead she tilts her head back and stares up at the sky, catalogues the stars with her eyes, and thinks wistfully of the Gilmore Girls marathon on tonight.
Somewhere to her right MG cracks up, probably due to something Kaleb has said. It's always like this when the night dies down, the four of them sitting by the poolside as the remaining partygoers filter out.
"No, no, you kissed her? Really?"
"Hey man, it was once—"
Lizzie bumps her shoulder against Josie's accidentally. A moment later she gives a long, drawn out sigh and says, "I can't believe he didn't come."
Josie doesn't need to ask who she's talking about. "He was probably busy," she says. Her beer is still nearly full, and she begrudgingly takes another tiny sip from it.
"I invited him personally," Lizzie mumbles, dropping her head against Josie's shoulder. She's a teary drunk most days, an angry drunk others. Luckily Josie knows how to handle both.
"Maybe he didn't know it was an invitation," Josie says. Lizzie only hums drunkenly, taking another drink from her bottle. A pop of a firecracker goes off a few houses down; Lizzie startles, and a few drops of her beer spill on Josie's sweater.
MG clears his throat. "Hey, who wants s'mores?" he says, obviously looking at Lizzie when he says it. She doesn't notice.
Kaleb snorts. "You're going to man an open flame while drunk?" he says. "Here, give me the stick."
"I'm not drunk—who's drunk?" MG drops yet another marshmallow into the fire. "Oh, shit."
Josie takes the chance to get to her feet. "You guys do that," she says. "Has anyone seen Hope?"
"Who cares?" Lizzie scoffs. "Hopefully she left."
"Um, she's our ride home," Josie reminds her, to which Lizzie only rolls her eyes. "I'll go check inside the house."
"Whatever." Lizzie scoots over and drops her head on MG's shoulder instead. Josie notices his awestruck reaction and wonders how it is that her Lizzie has never noticed how in love with her everybody is.
Josie squeezes through the throngs of people still dancing and heads inside, resolving to put the thought of relationships out of her mind. A few girls are crowded around the TV in the living room, but Hope's not among them.
Next, she tries the bathroom. Nothing—though a quick look in the mirror shows her eyeliner is slightly smudged. She washes it off; it had been Lizzie's idea, and it's not to Josie's taste anyway.
Josie ultimately decides she's wasting her time. Hope hates parties. If she's anywhere, it's sitting in the car waiting for Josie and Lizzie to get tired. But before Josie heads outside to see, she makes a quick detour to the kitchen; if Hope is really out there, she will be starving.
The lights are off and someone is there. No, more than one person, because faint whispering and shuffling can be heard. Josie wanders into the room and unthinkingly hits the lights—only belatedly praying she isn't wandering into a hookup spot—when her eyes fall on Penelope Park.
"Oops," comes an airy giggle; some girl Josie has never seen before is hanging off Penelope's neck. Penelope, however, is as collected as always, sipping out of a glass and staring straight ahead.
For a moment, one single, fleeting, charged moment, Josie and Penelope lock eyes. Every single repressed emotion that Josie has locked away over the summer bursts out into an embarrassing rush of hurt, and she knows her face is falling even before Penelope's calm demeanor cracks. Even then it is a blink-or-miss-it crack, barely a second when Penelope looks stunned, before she schools her features into her usual nonchalant expression.
"Sorry." Josie's voice is embarrassingly quiet. As she turns away she can feel Penelope's eyes following her, but she doesn't stop.
(Not even when she hears Penelope say, "Josie—" in that hauntingly familiar, pleading tone.)
Josie stumbles out the front door, relishes the cool night air washing over her body, and lets herself breathe. Away from all the smoke of the bonfires and the scent of the alcohol she can think clearer already.
Hope is indeed waiting in the car. Josie sees her fast asleep in the driver's side, and she regretfully knocks at the window to wake her up.
When Hope opens her eyes and sees Josie waving apologetically through the window, she gives a sleepy smile and unlocks the car. "Hey," she says. "What time is it?"
"Almost midnight," Josie answers. "Sorry I had to wake you." She climbs in the back seat, knowing that even though Lizzie is not here she will demand the passenger side soon enough.
"It's fine," Hope yawns. "Where's Lizzie?"
"I don't know." Josie rests her head flat against the seat, all her emotions still whirling around and making it very hard to concentrate. "She'll come eventually."
Hope is quiet for a minute. "Is something wrong?"
"No. I'm just tired." It's unconvincing even to Josie's ears.
Clearly, Hope picks up on her lie. "Was Penelope there?" she asks, softly, and there it is—the straw that breaks the camel's back.
Josie sucks in a sharp breath. "Yeah," she says. She's on the brink of tears all of a sudden, but the thing about Hope is that she never judges. Hope is the one person Josie doesn't actually mind crying in front of, and in that moment she wishes everything were different. That she could actually sit beside Hope, that she could walk past Penelope and not be affected, that she could be strong.
But everything has become so complicated, and she doesn't understand why.
"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good listener," Hope offers.
"No, it's okay." Josie sighs. "I just wish…" There is so much she wants to say. I wish I could get over her? I wish I could be your friend even though Lizzie hates you? I wish I never ruined everything? At last all she manages is, "I wish I wasn't here."
"Me either," Hope agrees, likely to cheer Josie up a little. It works; it makes her smile a bit, because she already knows that. She knows Hope.
"If we didn't have to take Lizzie home, I'd say we should go to the diner instead," Josie says.
Hope angles the rearview mirror down to meet Josie's eyes. "Let's do that next time," she says. And, "Shall I be your chauffeur then too?"
"You would be so lucky," Josie says, burgeoning smile making itself known. They laugh, quiet but not without its fair share of necessary awkwardness. "Hey. You know, I never thanked you properly. For the summer."
"You don't have to thank me," Hope says. "I've got you, girl." The teasing tone she adopts is so unlike her that Josie feels her worries begin to slip away.
"Would it be totally cliché to ask you to play upbeat music or something?"
"Are you kidding? I know just the thing."
Maybe Josie should hate Hope for picking "Since U Been Gone" and blasting it at full volume, but it's…kind of exactly what she needs.
.
.
.
Josie Saltzman has written four love letters in all her sixteen (almost seventeen) years of life.
Maybe the term "love letter" is too specific. Josie cares too much—it's kind of a problem—but these letters are not so much about love as they are about an inconsequential crush. The subjects of these letters are proof; Josie writes out her feelings as her way of leaving each person, and each crush, in the past.
Seeing Penelope and hanging out with Hope listening to cheesy pop music yesterday has Josie feeling particularly nostalgic tonight. She hasn't touched these letters in so long…everything about the weathered stamps, the crinkle of paper beneath her fingertips, the blotted ink at the corner of the pages has her reminiscing.
She turns over the first letter in her hands. Josie was thirteen when she developed a powerful crush on the girl next door—it had been so strong that to this day Josie is embarrassed about it. Hope Mikaelson had just been so beautiful, and mysterious, and Josie is pained to remember how everything fell through with Hope. At least they're friends now…or, sort of friends. Josie is still working up the courage to tell Hope the truth about everything.
It gets too heavy to reread Hope's letter. Josie reaches for the second letter, the one that is the most whimsical. The summer before high school Josie went to camp and fell in love with a boy, a boy a year older than her who hadn't been very inviting but dreamy nonetheless. Jed was a fantasy above all else; Josie sees him around campus sometimes, but the magic has long worn off. (Now, he's kind of a jerk.)
Speaking of jerks…there's letter three, and Josie reaches for it on autopilot. This letter is the one that still, after so long, gives her pause. Penelope Park was her first kiss, her first actual love, her first everything. Josie wrote this letter freshman year and rereading it even now gives her the funniest feeling in her stomach. This girl used to be her world, and now…now she doesn't know what to do. Now, this letter is better off being placed in a new category called "letters of heartbreak" instead. But Josie can't ever bring herself to get rid of it, so it remains tucked away with the others.
Finally, she reaches for the fourth envelope. This one is less a love letter and more a letter about a crush; Josie wrote it the beginning of sophomore year, when Rafael Waithe arrived at Salvatore High. She'd outgrown the notion of powerful infatuation being love by then, but had still felt compelled to write him a letter anyway. It was cathartic, to write out her feelings knowing no one would ever know.
See, Josie's letters have always been her secret. She's never shared them with Lizzie; while Lizzie was out charming the masses and stringing hopeless boys along, Josie would be sitting at her bedroom desk with a pen cap between her teeth and a creamy white-beige piece of paper. They're fundamentally different that way—been this different from each other since they were born.
Josie has never had too much trouble being the invisible twin. There are times when she wishes it wasn't the case, but who is she to stand in Lizzie's way? Lizzie has always been the outgoing twin. The popular twin. When there is something Lizzie wants, she will go after it—and more often than not, she will expect Josie to go along with her plans. She is forceful, demanding, and that's how it's always been.
(This year, she's set her sights on Rafael Waithe.)
Josie lingers on Rafael's letter a bit longer for that. She remembers a time where of all the boys Lizzie had called dibs on, Rafael had been the only one Josie was dismayed to lose. Of course she doesn't feel that way about him anymore, but she's always been the sentimental type.
Tracing these love letters now reminds her she really should get rid of them. She hasn't written a letter in years, much less felt the urge to.
Admittedly, that's mostly due to Penelope Park…but that is an entirely different story.
A sudden rap at her door snaps her back to reality. Josie scrambles to place the letters back beneath her bed, hastily smoothing down her covers for good measure. "What is it?" she calls.
"Dad's waiting for us," rings out Lizzie's huffy voice. "He said he has something important to talk about."
"I'll be right down," Josie promises, internally thanking every God imaginable that Lizzie hadn't tried to open her door; if she had, she would've found it locked, and would've asked too many questions as a result.
Josie takes the steps downstairs two at a time, both hurried and apprehensive—she can hear her father clanging about in the kitchen, which means he's attempting a fancy dinner. (That is never a good sign.)
"What's this about, Dad?" Lizzie demands the very instant Josie is beside her. "For the last time, we don't have any actual homework yet."
There is flour smudged on Alaric's forehead, but otherwise he's the picture of seriousness as he says, "It's not about homework." Then, "Do I really talk about homework that much?"
"Kind of," Josie says, pointedly phrasing it kinder than Lizzie would've.
Alaric clears his throat. "Well, it's not that. I think it's time we had a talk—"
"Please tell me this isn't another lecture about safe sex," Lizzie cuts in, horrified. "You already scarred me for life when you invited Satan over for that."
Josie winces at the memory. That had not been their father's finest hour.
At the very least, Alaric seems pained at the reminder. "It's not that either," he says. "I just wanted to let you know that your mom's been asking me to get you two started on donating your old things to Goodwill early. So if she asks, you're both on top of it."
"That's it?" Lizzie frowns. "Then why are you cooking? You only cook when something is really serious."
Alaric opens his mouth as if to negate the fact, but ultimately his resignation must win out. "Your mother wanted to be the one to tell you, but—she's staying in Europe another two weeks."
"Seriously? Is it because of her boyfriend?" Lizzie cries. "She's really going to miss our first few weeks of junior year because of a guy?"
Their father sighs. "She'll explain everything. She's going to call in about an hour—"
"Tell her not to bother!" Lizzie stalks off without warning, snatching the car keys on her way out. Seconds later, the front door slams shut.
Alaric casts a tired glance at Josie. "That went well," he says wearily. "I'm going after her."
Josie offers a tight-lipped smile in response. "I'll watch whatever's cooking," she says.
She should've known that this night quickly becomes the calm before everything goes to shit.
.
.
.
Josie has been painstakingly planning out her junior year plans, despite what Lizzie might think.
They're nothing too crazy—only to finally get her driver's license, get good grades, maybe join a club or two. Lizzie, on the other hand, has big plans to rule the school; she wants to become half of a power couple and win junior prom queen all at once. That's all fine for Lizzie, but Josie doesn't want that.
(She's content to help, though, and so she follows Lizzie to the homecoming rally.)
"Saltzman twins!" MG waves them over to his spot on the bleachers. True to his willingness to please, he's decked out in the school's colors as per Lizzie's request. "You made it. I was starting to get lonely."
"No Kaleb?" Josie guesses.
"You know him. Not a school spirit guy," MG says. "But you two are killing it. I'm seriously digging the facepaint."
His compliment (and subsequent heart eyes) are all for naught, because Lizzie is already scanning the stands for Rafael. Josie spots him at the same time Lizzie does—he's seated among the other football players, all of them roughhousing and shouting. The thing about Rafael, though, is that he's not like that. He is quiet, a bit of a loner, and even now as he's pushed at by his jeering peers he only grins reservedly and lets himself be jostled. Josie respects him for it.
And Lizzie clearly goes crazy for it, because she gives an honest-to-God dreamy sigh when she spots him. "He's gorgeous," she says. "How is Rafael so gorgeous?"
MG scoffs. "Him? He's…alright."
Lizzie, predictably, ignores him. "I wonder if he's single yet," she says. "Last I heard, he and Cassie were on the rocks."
"Yet?" Josie echoes. "What, have you been waiting for him to be single all this time?"
"Yes, Josette," Lizzie says, like it's obvious. "I won't be the other woman." She stands up and says, "I think I'm going to say hi."
Josie winces. "Lizzie," she starts, "you barely know him. Are you really going to—"
"I know what I'm doing," Lizzie insists. "MG, you can come with me, right? You're a guy. You can talk to him with me."
MG's mouth falls open, then dejectedly shut. "Uh, I'm not sure I speak jock. That's like, a whole other species of guy."
"Come on," Lizzie says impatiently, and MG is dragged off without another word.
Meanwhile, Josie resigns herself to another long school night. On the field the marching band begins to cross the field; she observes this with dull eyes, already bored. These homecoming rallies are nothing but meaningless pep contests. It's not even a grand homecoming game. (Though Lizzie'll probably drag Josie there too.)
"Hey Jojo."
Josie stiffens. "What are you doing here?" she says, cautiously glancing at Penelope out of the corner of her eye. "It's like you appear out of smoke."
"Can't a girl show her school spirit?" Penelope takes a seat on the row below hers, straddling the bleachers without a care. "Cute facepaint."
Of all the ways Josie imagined their first conversation after the breakup, it hadn't been like this. She'd expected Penelope to be as elusive as she herself wants to be—expected Penelope to avoid her or something. But instead she's smiling up at Josie nonchalantly, notably cool, exactly as unbothered as she is with everyone who isn't a part of her adoring posse.
"You don't care about this stuff," Josie says, uncomfortably crossing her arms. She hates how it feels, to be on the other end of the famous Penelope Park stare.
"I'm turning over a new leaf." Penelope shrugs a shoulder. Her smile falls a fraction, an action Josie is pretty sure only she would notice. "Listen, about what you saw at Kaleb's…"
"It's none of my business," Josie interrupts, stiffly staring out into the field. "Sorry I interrupted."
Penelope shifts closer. "It wasn't what you think," she says. "That's all."
"Well, I don't care." Josie's eyes are unfocused, unseeing, and she grips her arms so tightly it begins to hurt.
A soft touch to her knee snaps her back. "Josie—look at me. I mean it, it wasn't like that."
"I don't care, Penelope," Josie snaps, jerking away. "You broke up with me, remember? You're free to hook up with whoever you want."
"It wasn't a hookup."
"And?" Josie meets her gaze head-on. Penelope has the audacity to appear surprised at Josie's hostility, as if she hasn't torn her heart in two. As if Josie is supposed to just fall back in line and adore her all over again. "I don't believe you."
All at once, Penelope's cool girl mask falls back in place. "Then I guess there's nothing I can say."
With that, she finally leaves. And that sudden loss stings far more than any potential hookup of Penelope's ever could.
Lizzie comes up just as Penelope is walking away. "Ew, what was she doing here?"
"Nothing." Josie doesn't watch her walk away even though she's itching to. "Did you talk to Rafael?"
Instantly, Lizzie's sour mood brightens. "Yes! He said he was busy, so he didn't come to the party. But he promised he'd come to the next one."
"That's great, Lizzie," Josie says, grateful for the distraction. "So can we leave now? I've kind of got a headache."
Lizzie frowns—not at Josie, moreso at her words. "It's Penelope, isn't it?" she says. "God, she's so annoying. I'm sorry she bothered you, Jo. If you want me to give her a piece of my mind…"
"No, it's okay." Josie feels exhausted all at once; ever since the breakup Lizzie has made it her mission to hate Penelope Park with every fiber of her being, and it can be suffocating sometimes.
Truthfully, Josie can't bring herself to hate Penelope too. She misses Penelope. But she can't tell Lizzie that, or else her sister will accuse her of being blinded by misguided emotions. It's easier to go along with Lizzie's hatred and pretend she is not as devastated as she actually is, to pretend that she wants to hurt Penelope as much as Penelope hurt her first.
"Then don't let her ruin our fun," Lizzie says. "Come on—let's stay. At least until the football players get out there."
Josie agrees, because how can she say no? It's not like she has anything better to do. And, thankfully, she doesn't see Penelope anywhere else that night.
That's not to say that she isn't looking. Once or twice her eyes wander and she has to pinch herself for being weak; caring for people officially sucks. Continuing to love her ex sucks even more.
For a fleeting moment she thinks about Hope Mikaelson. Josie wonders what she would think of everything that has transpired tonight. Hell, she thinks she might even ask her.
It's a strange thought. Josie doesn't know where it came from.
.
.
.
The day when Josie's world comes unexpectedly crashing down is just like any other.
Hope drives Josie and Lizzie to school, because she always does—their parents are friends, and that's partly the reason Hope is always stuck with them. Privately, Josie thinks that they're the closest people Hope has to friends; Hope is pretty much a loner.
Tonight there is another party at Kaleb's and Josie is struck with a sudden urge to invite Hope to go with them, instead of Alaric suggesting it. (Of course, he also thinks they're going to hang out at MG's house. If he knew they were going to Kaleb's, he would absolutely know it's a party). She wonders if Hope would go if she asked—or if she'd even entertain the thought.
"Ugh, why is the devil always hanging around?" Lizzie says as they pull into the school parking lot. Penelope is leaning against the hood of her car like she always does, surrounded by her friends and admirers; Josie tries hard not to stare at her as they drive past. "It's like she spends her time waiting to make us miserable."
Trying not to stare doesn't work. Josie slumps low in her seat and does not make a comment of her own.
When she looks up, she sees Hope's eyes on her through the rearview mirror. Hope has been notably off this morning, and even more silent than usual. Something must have happened, but Josie doesn't ask what—she knows Lizzie would only interject some snide comment about it.
As they're getting out of the car, Hope actually waits for Josie and Lizzie to walk with them. Josie is surprised; Hope usually walks away without them. Even Lizzie is puzzled, because she casts a skeptical glance in Hope's direction once or twice.
Hope never explains herself beyond, "Hey, I have soccer tryouts today. We have to leave an hour later than usual." And, hesitant in a way Hope Mikaelson never is, she turns to Josie. "Can we maybe talk before? During your free period?"
"Talk about what?" Lizzie says. "Whatever you have to say to my sister you can say in front of me, Mikaelson."
"This doesn't concern you, Lizzie," Hope sighs. Her gaze never wavers, only stays on Josie, half concerned and half apprehensive.
"Excuse me? If I recall, you're the champion of talking about me behind my back, so forgive if I'm not jumping at the chance of you bothering my sister."
Josie's stomach turns. "Lizzie, stop." She grips the straps of her backpack a little tighter and tells Hope, "Sure, I'll come find you. Text me."
Lizzie doesn't bother to hide the fact that she rolls her eyes. Hope spares Josie one small, understanding smile before she leaves them to their own devices.
"She's unbelievable," Lizzie huffs at her retreating figure. "Who does she think she is?"
"It's probably nothing. Don't worry about it," Josie says. As they squeeze their way among the crowds entering the school, she nearly faints with relief to see Rafael alone by his locker. "Hey, why don't you say hi to Rafael? I'm going to stash my chem book before my first class."
As expected, Lizzie is immediately concerned with anything but Josie. "Should I? That wouldn't make me look too desperate, would it?" she asks. "Guys like him make me so nervous. I don't know how to handle it."
"You'll be fine," Josie assures her. If anything good has come from Lizzie's junior year resolutions, it's the ability to distract her from Josie's crumbling social life. "See you in homeroom."
Today has been so strange and it's barely morning. Josie runs through everything she's done in her mind, trying to figure out why Hope kept staring at her all morning, as she opens her locker (an act that takes more tries than usual).
None of it makes sense—especially the fact that Hope wants to talk. She and Josie already do talk, just never when Lizzie is around. It's an entirely unspoken thing that Josie can't wrap her head around. Why would Hope want Lizzie to know now that they're…whatever they are? What could possibly be so important that she would risk all the progress they've made towards being friends again?
"You know, you're a hard person to track down alone."
As if this day needed to get worse. "What do you want, Penelope?" Josie mumbles.
"Nothing, actually." Penelope leans against the locker beside Josie's, as casual and collected as usual. "But I am curious about something."
Josie is beginning to learn that taking the bait is a less annoying option than early morning banter. "About what?" she asks flatly.
"About whether or not you really think I have the prettiest eyes you've ever seen," Penelope replies, the amusement in her tone enough to make Josie's blood run cold. "Also, do you really think I'm a heartthrob?"
This is a nightmare. It has to be. There's no way this is happening. Josie whirls around and immediately zeroes in on the letter in Penelope's hand—her letter.
"Where did you get that?" Josie's voice shakes and she can't stop it.
"My mailbox," Penelope says. Her brow furrows, as though she hadn't expected Josie to look so distraught. "What, is it some practical joke from Lizzie?"
"No, it…" Josie trails off helplessly. "I wrote that years ago."
"Then why did you send it to me now?"
"I didn't!" Josie exclaims. Her mind is spinning; Lizzie wouldn't be so cruel to do this, surely, but if she didn't do it then who did? And if Penelope has her letter, than does that mean everyone else does? Jed, Rafael…Hope.
Suddenly Hope's behavior makes so much more sense. Josie nearly slams her own hand in her locker when the horrifying realization clicks.
Penelope gazes at her in a curious way—oddly concerned, if anything. "Josie?" she prompts. "I wasn't trying to make fun of you or anything…"
Even in her panic, Josie finds the energy to frown. "That's exactly what you did," she says.
"No, I was teasing," Penelope corrects. "But that's our thing."
"We don't have a thing, Penelope," Josie snaps. "You decided that yourself."
This garners a disbelieving huff. "That's not fair," Penelope says. "I never said we couldn't be friends." But she shifts a bit against the wall, a slightly uncomfortable tension held in her shoulders.
"I don't need you to be my friend," Josie says, swallowing hard. Penelope can't even meet her eyes when discussing their breakup, and that's what hurts more than anything else. "You broke my heart. I can't just get over that."
"Do you really want to do this now?" Penelope sighs. "Josie—"
"No, actually," Josie cuts her off. "I don't want to do this. I'm leaving, and you…you should leave me alone." She does exactly that before Penelope can reply, absolutely exhausted of having to walk away from Penelope Park when emotionally compromised.
But this—this is bigger than Penelope. And much more catastrophic.
.
.
.
As soon as classes are over Josie makes the choice to never meet up with Hope before soccer tryouts.
In fact, she does something she would absolutely never do under any circumstances: she borrows MG's bike and rides it all the way home.
Josie knows that means leaving Lizzie alone and leaving Hope without an excuse, but frankly both issues are low on her list of priorities; the only thing Josie is preoccupied with is her box of letters and where the hell it is. She barely says a passing hello to her (surprised) father before she's rushing upstairs in her sweaty, disheveled state, hoping that by some miracle only Penelope's letter has somehow been mailed out.
No such luck. Josie's room is cleaner than usual—not that it's ever been particularly messy—and her box of letters is gone.
"Dad!" She's running again. "What happened to my room?"
Alaric must sense something is wrong, because he appears tentative. "I cleaned up a bit," he says. "For both you and Lizzie. I figured with your mom gone you both would be too sad to do it, and with the whole Goodwill thing—"
"Dad. There was a box of letters under my bed. What happened to it?"
"Oh, that…" Alaric eyes her wearily. Josie knows she must look frantic, but she can't help it. "I noticed you didn't have stamps on any of those, so I got some. I wasn't sure if you'd lost them—"
Josie might faint. She might literally faint. "Did you mail them?"
Her father's pained wince is answer enough. "I messed up again, didn't I?"
There has never been a point in time where Josie has had no idea how to deal with something. She's never had something mess up her life like this before, either—she's stuck in a daze as she walks back outside where MG's bike is waiting.
She pedals down the road with no destination in mind. She doesn't remember telling her dad goodbye, or even offering an explanation as to why Lizzie wasn't with her. She just…runs.
And, stuck with nothing but her thoughts for company, she comes to a grave conclusion: she cannot let Lizzie find out.
.
.
.
Avoiding Hope turns out to be much harder than expected.
Lizzie still rides with Hope to school—she finds Josie by the buses at the start of school, always with some complaint that Josie should've just gone with her. (As far as Lizzie knows, Josie is only taking the bus so she can hang out with Nia; Josie had panicked and called Nia her new crush as a viable explanation).
Josie is thankfully allowed immunity to Hope's company when Lizzie is around, but when Lizzie is gone Josie has to continue to evade Hope. Hope has even resorted to talking to people because of it. As in, random students will see Josie and automatically tell her that Hope is looking for her.
Luckily, Josie doesn't share any classes with Hope. They don't run in the same circles, so she's confident she can keep avoiding Hope well into the semester if she tries hard enough.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about Penelope.
They're running laps in P.E. today and Penelope, infuriatingly, is keeping up with Josie far too easily. Clearly she hasn't taken the hint—they're still not friends, and yet Penelope is acting as if they are.
"Hey." Penelope slows beside her as she acknowledges Josie; Josie tries not to notice that Penelope cut her hair over the summer, leaving it too short to pull up into a ponytail.
"What now?" Josie side-eyes her warily. "Are you back to 'tease' me again?" This she says with pointed air quotes, to which Penelope raises her hands up noncommittally.
"I'm not here to pick a fight," Penelope says. "Listen, if you're embarrassed about that letter—"
"I am not embarrassed."
"Well, you could've fooled me." Penelope's run becomes a light jog, and Josie hesitantly follows suit. "Even if we're not friends, you can still…talk to me."
Josie's traitorous heart skips a beat at how genuine Penelope sounds. "I'm fine," she assures Penelope as coolly as she can manage. "Like I said, I wrote that letter years ago. Obviously my feelings have changed."
"Right." But Penelope appears unnerved, as though she wants to say something but can't. "Maybe we should talk about how you really feel, though. About us."
"Are you seriously doing this again?" Josie stops running altogether. "Penelope. You broke my heart. How many times do you need to hear me say I don't want to talk to you?"
The way Penelope gazes at her then is impassive. She has always been better at hiding her emotions away—Josie would get frustrated sometimes because she could never read her. While they were dating she hadn't minded; Penelope was the charming, mysterious popular girl that loved Josie despite the expectations of everyone else.
Josie still knew Penelope—or, well, knows her—better than anyone else. And what bothers her most is that she never saw the breakup coming.
"So is this it, then? Are we just not going to talk to each other anymore?" Penelope frowns. "Josie, come on."
In an instant Josie stiffens. "What do you care?" she demands. "We weren't friends before we started dating anyway."
Penelope sighs, then looks away. Her hair is beginning to frizz with the heat and Josie itches to tuck the shorter hair behind Penelope's ear; she hates how stupidly attractive her ex is.
"I'm trying to be nice here," says Penelope, finally, as her eyes lock with Josie's again. "I don't want us to end up hating each other."
"I already hate you," Josie says, and the words are so thick in her mouth that they come out shaky. "I hate you for hurting me and I can't pretend like I don't." The urge to cry pricks at her resolve, but she squashes the feeling down.
Penelope's impassiveness cracks. At last, she looks regretful. "I know," she says quietly.
"I don't want to know why you broke up with me," Josie hastens to add, because as much as she does, she fears the answer will hurt far worse than not knowing. "But I can't do this, okay? I can't pretend nothing happened."
"Josie." Penelope is poker-faced all at once again, but the way she clenches her jaw lets on that she is more uncomfortable than she looks. "I can't explain it, it's just…"
"No," Josie cuts her off. "I already said I don't want to know."
Whatever Penelope means to reply dies on her lips, because a shout of Josie's name completely snaps through the tension between them. Josie is grateful for it (until she realizes that is too familiar a shout of her name).
Hope is making her way towards the track field and she has an envelope in her hand. Josie is not a betting woman, but if she were to bet her life's savings on that envelope being her letter—the letter—she's sure she would win.
"Fuck," Josie groans under her breath, heart sinking low in her chest. Her knee-jerk reaction is to take off running, but then…then her eyes fall on Penelope.
It's a risky idea. A stupid idea. An idea that, under any other circumstances, Josie wouldn't entertain.
But Hope is getting closer and Josie has no other option; she throws her arms around her ex-girlfriend's neck, throws them both to the ground, and kisses the hell out of her.