The summer we turned thirteen (Published)

Chapter twenty-five: Apologies and admissions

Harlee

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"Okay, your dress is in the washer, and I put it on delicate. We wouldn't want to shrink it in the dryer, so I think you should just let it air dry when it comes out of the wash," I told Rachel while climbing down from the stool I needed to reach the laundry detergent.

"Okay, thanks, Harlee," she said.

Once our fit of hysterics was over, Rachel had started freaking out about how the frosting had ruined her dress. She changed into the extra clothes she'd brought, and I put her dress in the washing machine, but so far, that was the only cleaning up we'd done. The kitchen still looked like a tornado had torn through it.

"I guess we better get started cleaning," I remarked as we walked back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, we should," Rachel replied, her voice small.

She filled a bucket with water and soap, and I got the mop out and some rags, so we could start cleaning up the frosting. I began mopping while Rachel started scrubbing the floor, avoiding eye contact with me.

A pang of guilt hit me.

I knew she must have been feeling hurt by how I'd spoken to her earlier, and I had yet to apologize for it.

Just as I was about to apologize, she beat me to it.

"Harlee, I'm sorry I was so rude to you." She looked up at me. "I was wrong to take advantage of your kindness, and I'm sorry."

I shook my head rapidly and refused the apology.

"No, don't say you're sorry. It isn't your fault. I had a bad morning, and I should not have taken it out on you. And please don't feel guilty about the ingredients. You're free to use anything in our kitchen whenever you like," I told her.

She smiled warmly. Then her brows furrowed in concern at what I'd said. "A bad morning? How come?" she asked, scrubbing the frosting that had splattered onto the dishwasher. It didn't come up, so I handed her some vinegar to try and remove it.

"Just a lot going on this summer," I replied vaguely. I continued mopping with force, trying to clean up the sticky frosting globs that adorned the tiled floor. No matter how much elbow grease I gave, they just did not seem to want to come up.

Rachel gave me a look like she wanted me to continue, so I did.

"Between James not wanting to be my friend anymore, feeling torn between you and Farrah-"

"Torn between Farrah and me?" she repeated. "Harlee, I didn't tell you that story to turn you against her or anything."

"No, I know that. It's just..." I set the mop against the counter and sat beside her on the floor. I was exhausted, and removing those stains was going to take way more energy than I was willing to give at the moment.

Rachel continued scrubbing the dishwasher as she waited for me to finish my sentence.

"I don't think your friendship ending was all her fault, Rachel," I told her.

She stopped mid-scrub and glanced at me.

"What do you mean?" A glint of regret flashed through her eyes as she spoke.

"I mean, Farrah says you weren't always the easiest person to be around.

She said you made her feel guilty for having money and that you took offense at nearly all the things she tried to do for you. Now, I've never known Farrah to be a liar, but she could be overreacting or exaggerating. Tell me, though, is she?" I asked, hoping she would be honest. Maybe, if both Rachel and Farrah admitted they contributed to the conflict between them, it could be resolved.