Maliah shrugs. “You know my opinion on that.”
“Yeah, but … some stuff’s private. It’s not about keeping secrets, it’s about … I don’t know. Sometimes I need things to exist in my own head for a while.”
“I guess,” Maliah says. “Do you want to take a walk around the Reservoir and then get a snack at LAMILL?”
“Perfect. I’m even wearing comfy flats today.”
“Oh, please, like I haven’t seen you walk a mile in heels,” she says with a smile. “Your feet are tougher than mine.”
Maliah drives over to Silver Lake and parks the car down a side street near the dog park. We take off on foot and I do my very best not to think about being here with Jordi. It’s crazy how much of LA now reminds me of her, even though it’s been my city since I was born.
“So …” Maliah puts on her sunglasses. “Have you talked to Jordi?”
“No more than necessary at work,” I say. “Why?”
“I just thought maybe you’d calm down a little,” she says.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Abbs. She just took your photo. God knows I’m not Jordi Perez’s biggest fan, but I really feel like you have to give her another chance.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” I say.
“She thinks you’re hot,” Maliah says.
“Did she tell you that? When did you even talk to her?”
“Anyone with eyes could see that, Abby. So she took photos of her hot girlfriend. And, I’m sorry, I actually support what she did, and I wish I would have been there to see the show. Because the way you are about yourself, no one understands it.”
“The way I am about myself? What does that even mean?”
“It means that you talk a great game online,” she says. “You talk about being happy with how you look, no matter your size, and that health and confidence are way more important than dress size. You spend all your spare time telling other girls to like themselves, but then the second someone suggests you’re worthy of that, you shut it down.”
“I can be confident without putting my picture everywhere,” I say.
“Sure. But you won’t put it anywhere. Even on your super locked-down Facebook account, everything’s just your face. And I know it doesn’t matter if I tell you that you’re gorgeous, or if Jax says he’d want to do you if you were straight, or that your girlfriend basically worships you. Until you believe the stuff you tell everyone else, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“That’s not—I don’t—Mal. Come on.”
“I think Jordi was trying to force you into seeing it,” she says. “And maybe she didn’t pick the greatest way to do it. But considering how annoyed it makes me, and I’m only your best friend …”
“Don’t say only. Best friends mean a lot.”
She sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve been worried ever since you went all googly around Jordi that this would be over.”
“What are you even talking about?” I ask, and I’m so confused that I forget to keep walking and then have to sprint to keep up with Maliah. “I’d never do that.”
“I’m not saying it’s something you’d do,” she says. “But it must be different from Trevor and me, because I really still need my girls. I need you, Abbs. But if you have a girl you tell everything to and do everything with and then also get to make out with her, I don’t see how I’ll be necessary.”
“Oh my god, Mal, seriously?” I grab her arm to make her stop walking. “I needed to talk to someone about Jordi as much as you do about Trevor. I just haven’t been because you were so convinced she was a criminal.”
“Marji saw her getting into a cop car,” Maliah says. “And the aftermath of a fire.”
“It’s a much smaller and less dramatic story than you’d think,” I say. “She’s not a criminal. She just maybe cares too much about her art.”
Except that I hear my words aloud and wonder if it’s even possible. Art is life. How can you care too much about life?
“Fine,” Maliah says. “Moving forward, I’ll be less judgmental about Jordi Perez.”
“Moving forward, it won’t matter,” I say. “But on the extremely off-chance that I go out with anyone else, I’ll want to tell you so much, as long as you’re open to them. Okay?”
“Only if your taste doesn’t continue to be criminals,” she says but with a huge smile. “I really am sorry it didn’t work out, Abbs. I know you were happy.”
My phone beeps, and I check it to see that of course it’s Jax.
“Ignore him,” Maliah says. “And I will say there’s one positive thing to come out of your breakup.”
“This conversation where you lectured me?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes.
“No, it’s just made me extra grateful for how good things are with Trevor,” she says. “We’re really open and honest with each other, and so I always feel that we’re on the same page.”
I want to be offended that she’s made this about her, but, actually …
“Oh my god,” I say. “That’s so great. It absolutely proves everything.”
Maliah wrinkles her nose. “‘Proves’? What are you talking about?”
“It’s like in movies,” I explain. “The heroine always has a cool sassy best friend—that’s me—whose life’s specifics don’t really matter, because the epic love story is the heroine’s. That’s you, obviously. And this is always how it works! Late in the movie, the best friend has some sort of experience that makes the heroine see her own relationship more clearly. Which for us is my breakup and you with Trevor. Seriously, it maps out perfectly.”
“Uh, Abbs? Life is not a movie. It’s just …” She shrugs. “Life. I’m no more a heroine than you are. You are the sassy one, but I’m the one who’s invisible at parties if you and your incredible style’s around. I have plenty of sidekick in me, too.”
I stare at her. “I never thought
