Olivia Rein

Third Place: Fiction

“A Distaste for Lemons” 
by Olivia Rein 
10th grade, Chatham School

—

Selfish was such an ugly word. And Bella hated ugly things.

Though, in all fairness, Bella had a hard time finding things ugly. As a general rule, she tried to avoid hating, strongly disliking, or otherwise having problems with things. Lucy was the one who hated, and her brother, and her parents. They always found things to hate, things to take issue with—but not Bella. She was the positive one. She was the easy one. She was the one who liked to reserve the word hate for a finite list of things, like lemons. Or like poetry. Or like the shriveled, pitiful, bare little tree that sat in the center of her yard, a blemish on the masterpiece of a lawn her father used to work so hard on. She hated the way it seemed to darken the whole yard, the way the rest of her family didn’t mind it. How they couldn’t see its ugliness. The burning loathing she held for that tree was about the extent of her hatred … or so Bella had thought. But when Lucy had called her selfish, she had felt a horrible, hollow feeling in her chest that had felt an awful lot like hate.

“James isn’t happy, you know.”

“What? What did he say to you?”

“He didn’t need to say anything, Bella. But he’s unhappy. And he would be happier with somebody else.” The rest of the sentence went unspoken. Somebody like Lucy. “Somebody who … has time for him, y’know? And I think … I think it’s pretty selfish of you to hold on to him like this.”

Lying in her bed now, Bella felt as if the walls were closing in around her. She spun her ring up and down her forefinger, trying to take deep breaths. Her best friend had said all that. Her best friend wanted her to break up with her boyfriend …

Her best friend wouldn’t lie to her.

How could I have been so selfish?

Bella woke up the following morning with a knot in her stomach. She left the house at noon. Her rusted old bike—she had given her little brother her better one—squeaked its way toward the pond.

The pier reached out toward the midday sun, and fingers of golden afternoon sunlight reached back. The breeze dancing around Bella was the only solace from the day’s scorching heat. Yet the warmth couldn’t seem to reach her.

They heard her coming before she arrived. He stood up first, and he sprinted. Bella stared straight ahead, to some distant point over his shoulder as he slammed into her and enveloped her in an embrace.

“Happy seventeenth, Bel!” Jamie smiled wide, not his usual half-grin that only brought out one of his dimples. Bella tried not to look at that smile. She tried not to look at his dimples. She tried not to feel the warmth of his hands still gripping her shoulders, or the way it contrasted with the numbness inside her. If she did, she might just have convinced herself the joy on his face was real.

Bella twirled her ring up her finger, dimly aware of the rest of their friends making their way toward them across the pier.

“Jamie.” Her voice cracked. Her voice always seemed to crack, but this time, Bella’s resolve threatened to crack with it. For a moment—one last moment—she met his eyes. Greener in the reflection of the pond. Water still beaded on his eyelashes. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter. “We need to break up.”

Later, when Bella walked off the pier, feeling the wooden planks beneath her feet turn to damp grass, she heard Lucy’s voice in the distance.

“I’m here for you, James, okay? I’m here …”

* * *

Bella picked up the phone.

“Happy thirtieth, Bella!” Lucy’s voice was so high it verged on shrill, and so sweet it was almost cloying. Bella felt strangely dull, even though her friend had finally called. She eyed the line of week-old cards standing up on her counter.

“Thanks, Lucy …” She weighed her next words carefully, twisting her ring up and down her finger. “You’re a bit late, though.”

No reply. Her tone had been light, joking, but in the moment of awkward silence that followed, Bella’s stomach dropped. I shouldn’t have—

“Of course!” Lucy exclaimed after a beat. Relief washed over Bella. “I know, honey, and I’m so sorry … but you know how busy we are with my mom. Y’know, taking care of her and all.”

A pang of regret immediately shot through her. Bella should’ve guessed that. Then another pang, for ever doubting her friend. Of course Lucy wouldn’t really miss her birthday.

“Oh God, I’m sorry …” Bella shook her head and groaned. You were just too busy being selfless.

“Nonsense!” Lucy’s light chuckle sounded rehearsed to perfection. “Here, say hi to James.” Bella took the ensuing rustling to mean the phone was switching hands.

“Happy birthday, Bel.” Bella could hear his smile through the phone. “Sorry if it’s a little belated.”

“Thanks, Jamie.” A grin crept onto her face. “So, how’s married life?” Before he could reply, Lucy snatched back the phone.

“So, what should Jamie and I get you, Bel?” she asked, with so much enthusiasm it was more like a demand. Bella heard a muffled suggestion from Jamie in the distance. Lucy hesitated before relaying his message, her voice unusually quiet. “Jamie says to get you taffy.” Another inaudible comment. “But no lemon,” she added, then gave a forced-sounding laugh. “I didn’t know you hated lemons.”

“You … must’ve forgotten.” But Jamie didn’t. “Taffy sounds great, Lucy.”

But Lucy didn’t reply. Bella heard muted arguing on the other end of the line—something about nicknames. Suddenly suspecting she shouldn’t be hearing this, Bella hung up, fidgeting absentmindedly with her ring.

Through the window, she saw the spot where the old tree had once been. She had cut it down, but for some reason, that hollow feeling remained. That feeling of hate.