Past Perfect Life

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  “Yeah, but you do extra things like clean the kitchen. Nina always tells my mom how horrified she is that the house is cleaner when they come home. So that makes you a really hard worker as well. Is that helpful? Because I can continue.”

  I feel my cheeks reddening. While it’s sweet for Neil to say all those things, it’s sort of embarrassing.

  But I did ask him.

  And I like hearing those things from him.

  “It’s nice of you to say.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.” He’s looking at me expectantly.

  I drop my gaze. “Yeah, I, ah …” I pause, trying to refocus my thoughts on the topic at hand. “I have no idea what they’re looking for. Most people applying for this scholarship will be smart. That doesn’t make me stand out.” I feel my shoulders tense from the stress. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I try to tell myself that it will be fine and it will all work out. What if it doesn’t?

  “Is everything okay?” Neil asks.

  “Yeah.” I want to change the subject and not think about scholarships or essays.

  There’s something that’s been in the back of my mind since lunch. Okay, I may have spent a lot of this afternoon thinking about it. And, well, he’s here in front of me, so might as well give it a shot.

  “You know who else is really smart?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Dana.”

  Neil leans back in the chair. “Yes, she is.”

  “So what’s going on with you two?” I put my index fingers together in a kissy motion.

  Neil gives me a look to show me that he’s not remotely amused by my childish antics. “No. We’re just friends.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” I tease. Although I’ll admit I absolutely don’t want there to be anything going on between them.

  “Well, I’m telling you there’s nothing.” He clenches his jaw.

  “Sorry,” I reply. I hate seeing him like this. “See, I’m not that funny.”

  He sighs. “It’s okay, I’m just … I’m a little stressed about college. I’m a Gleason, even though I don’t have that name or—” He gestures at his bright red hair that he gets from his dad’s side of the family. “I want to go to a school where I can simply be Neil van Horne and not Kyle’s younger brother, or the comptroller’s son or the sheriff’s nephew. Where I’m allowed to screw up every once in a while. We’re always told to learn from our mistakes, but Gleasons aren’t allowed to make mistakes. Or if we do, it’s a town scandal.”

  Of course my first thought is how that would make an amazing essay topic.

  Although I don’t know what to say, since I can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be under that kind of pressure. I guess I never really thought about what it means to be a Gleason. I only looked at the good side: a big family support unit, fun parties, and huge holiday gatherings.

  I’m not totally naive—I know how careful they have to be to avoid gossip. All the cousins use fake names for social media, so they can post pictures without the prying eyes of the town. At first, I was into it. We got to have aliases! I played along not only to protect them, but to get Dad off my back, too. He was always harping about being careful about posting personal things online. He loves to get on his little soapbox about privacy, catfishing, and online predators, in particular whenever there’s a case on one of our true crime shows.

  To me, it was all a fun game. I got to be “Erin Rodgers” (because I’m a Green Bay Packers fan and a dork). I didn’t really think about how much Neil and his cousins have to guard themselves.

  Neil continues, “But then I think about being alone. Not having family to rely on, and I wonder if I can even do it. Maybe I can’t stand on my own.”

  “I get it. I think the same thing about me and my dad,” I admit. How will I get by without him? How will he do without me? I put my hand on Neil’s back and he tenses up so I pull it away. I think about what Dad tells me when I get freaked out about the future. “All of this is part of growing up.”

  “Growing up sucks.”

  “No kidding.”

  We both laugh a little. I always thought senior year would be a relaxing one. I’d spent the past three years ensuring I’d have good grades and enough committees and volunteer experience for my college applications. But it’s been nothing but anxiety. How is anybody supposed to know what she wants to do for the rest of her life at seventeen? Oh, and the whole what-school-do-I-go-to question? What school I pick will decide who will be my new friends. When I think about the major life shift that’s going to happen in nine months, it freaks me out.

  Right now the plan is to graduate from college, get my teaching license, and then find a job at an elementary school nearby. It may not seem like a big dream to some, but I like living in a small town. I like school. (As I was saying before: dork.)

  So that’s the plan. For now.

  Last year, I was thinking of becoming a veterinarian. There’s always the chance that college will shape me in a way that I’ll want to do something else. So despite the popular essay question, I have absolutely no idea what I’ll be doing in five years. I should be excited about all the different possibilities ahead of me, but sometimes it gets to be too much.

  “I’m sorry,” Neil says as he looks down at his hands. “I came here to give you sugar, not for you to be my therapist.”

  “It’s okay. I’m stressed out, too,” I confess. Although I don’t think I’ve been as good as Neil at hiding it. He’s always so sturdy and reliable, the relatively quiet center of the Gleason storm. I say relatively quiet because the quietest Gleason is still hella loud.

  There’s an awkward pause. I’m not sure what else there is to say. A car honks down the street. I look at the clock on the microwave. The Dorns will be home any minute now.

  “Should I go?” Neil asks after seeing me glance at the clock. He hesitantly gets up from the table.

  “Probably. I don’t think they’d mind you being here, especially in the name of baked goods, but who knows what will be spread around town.” This past summer, my dad ran into a married woman at Gleason’s Grocer. They started chatting about the timeline on the house he was working on. So, of course, that fifteen-minute conversation caused the whole town to think they were having an affair.

  You can never be too careful. And as much as Dad and I are members of the community, we weren’t born here and will always be considered outsiders.

  “Would that be so bad?” Neil asks, so quietly I’m not sure if I heard him correctly.

  Did he mean a rumor about a boy and me? Or about him and me?

  Oh my God. Am I Miss Clueless?

  And the fact that I need to even ask that question confirms that I am, indeed, clueless.

  So here’s the thing: I like Neil. A lot. He’s one of my closest friends. And a few weeks ago, I thought something was starting to happen. We’d spent practically all of Homecoming together on the dance floor. We always made sure to sit next to each other. Every time we were together, I felt a simmering between us. It wasn’t like I could ask Marian for intel. He’s her cousin and I don’t want things to be weird. But since I’d been waiting for him to make a move … nothing. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought he felt the spark, too.

  Wouldn’t be the first thing I’d been wrong about.

  Then Neil takes a step closer to me, and I feel my breath catch. The way my heart is racing I know I want it all to be true.

  We are only inches apart. I can’t breathe.

  And then my stupid cell phone rings.

  Neil takes a step back as I curse technology for ruining a real-life moment. (Oh God, that is such a thing my dad would think.)

  It’s Mrs. Dorn telling me they’ll be home in twenty. She couldn’t text me that? Or, you know, just show up whenever. Although I wouldn’t want her and Mr. Dorn to walk in on Neil and me in a full make-out session.

  Not like that was going to happen. Or just whatever.

  By the time I hang up, Neil is already at the door. “I
guess I should go.”

  “Yeah, I guess. See you tomorrow, same time, same sidewalk.” I shudder inside with how much I am blowing this.

  Neil gives me a small smile as he opens the front door. He pauses for a moment before turning around. “It’s all going to be okay, Ally.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about. College? Scholarships? Us?

  Whatever it is, I hope he’s right.

  Chapter

  FOUR

  “I’m about to burst,” Marian says as she rubs her stomach Saturday evening after Lee’s birthday party.

  Once again, the Gleasons overdid it on food. So now we’re both lying on the floor in her bedroom, our legs up on her bed, staring at the fairy lights she has strung alongside her ceiling. Her black cat, Gizmo, keeps circling us. Baxter is going to lose his mind when I come home tomorrow smelling like cat. He always gives me a look like I’ve betrayed him somehow.

  “We do this every time,” I remind her.

  “We sure do.” She pauses. “But we’re totally going to have leftovers in a few hours, right?”

  “Duh,” I say with a laugh, even though it hurts to move my stomach. All during the party, as I observed the Gleason clan, I thought about what Neil had said about being part of their family. “Hey, Marian, do you ever feel pressure being a Gleason?”

  “You mean the constant struggle to be the loudest person in the room? Ha!” But then she adds quietly, “Sometimes. It would be nice to be able to have some privacy every once in a while. God, the first time Rob tried to kiss me, we practically had to drive to Door County so nobody would know about it.”

  “I could see how you would want to keep that a secret,” I tease.

  “Totally. But while I’m going to miss my family and this”—she grabs my hand—“I’m also excited for the next chapter. College. Susan loves being away at Stout so much. I think being part of a big family has helped prepare her for not having much privacy in the dorms. Although I’m also positive that living in a coed dorm doesn’t hurt her enthusiasm.”

  “Dad told me that if I even apply to live in a coed dorm, he’s sending me to a nunnery.”

  “Hey.” Marian gives my hand a squeeze. “Sorry if I upset you the other day bringing up your mom.”

  “It’s okay.” I squeeze back.

  “You’re just so open about everything. And like, the most sure-of-yourself person I know.”

  I let out a snort. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “No, for real. You knew before any of us where you wanted to go to school. Like freshman year, you had this plan in place. You needed to get X, Y, and Z done to be accepted into Green Bay and have most of your school funded. Hell, I still don’t know where I want to go next year.”

  “But I’m not this overly confident person.” Images of Dana flaunting her GPA and accomplishments flash in my head.

  “You know what you want with school and your future. I mean, you could use some of that planning when it comes to other things.” Marian forces a cough while saying, “Boys.”

  So, yeah. I haven’t really dated. Okay, not at all. But I’m not the only one. Jan and Julia haven’t, either. We have a small class. The options are fairly limited, and then there’s the whole weirdness that happens when a couple breaks up and people have to pick sides. Don’t think that hasn’t been one of the deterrents for coming clean about Neil.

  I quickly veer us off the boy detour. “Well, I am happy to give you the many benefits of attending the fine university in Green Bay, including one of its incoming freshman.”

  “You know that’s a huge bonus.”

  “The biggest, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  We both sit in silence for a few beats. I’m sure Marian is thinking through her options, while I’m busy regarding what she’s said. I guess I have always been focused about school. I like having tangible goals. Figuring out how to go from point A to point B and making up a to-do list to get there. Nothing feels as good as crossing something off.

  Probably one of the reasons I’ve turned into the kind of student I am is because of the star system Dad came up with. When I started middle school, we had a calendar posted on the refrigerator that listed all my school assignments. For every day that I completed all my tasks, I got a star. Every ten stars meant we’d go out for frozen custard.

  Some may call that bribery; I call it motivation.

  “Oh!” Marian turns on her side. “I know what we should do: play two truths and a lie.”

  I turn to face her. “Yes!”

  When I first started sleeping over at Marian’s—usually with Jan and Julia along—we’d play two truths and a lie. Someone comes up with a topic, and then you have to tell two truths and one lie about yourself while the rest have to try to figure out the lie. Of course, it usually devolved into discussing crushes.

  On second thought, this might be a bad idea.

  “You pick a topic first,” Marian suggests.

  “Okay!” I pretty much know everything about Marian at this point. During one late night, we found out that she loves all things gummy, except gummy worms make her gag. So, of course, Jan and Julia got her a bulk bag of gummy worms for Christmas that year. I don’t want to go with anything college related since nobody needs that stressful topic. “Things you want to do before the end of senior year.”

  “Oh, I like it.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “Cut class, ace Calc, and wear something so sexy to prom that Rob will be in agonizing pain.”

  “Ew! Won’t someone from your family be chaperoning?”

  “Which will just make his torture even more delicious.”

  “You’re evil,” I say with a nod of respect because that is going to be hilarious to witness. “So that’s a truth. You just aced your last Calc test, so I call cutting class as the lie. No way you’d ever get away with it.”

  “Not in this town. Now you.”

  “I guess it would be to get enough scholarship money, um …” Sometimes I’m really bad at this, even when I pick the topic. “Dance so much at prom that I’ll have to walk barefoot for a week, and get an A plus in AP Chemistry.”

  “Chemistry,” she replies right away. “You’re extremely smart, but no way can anybody ace Ms. Fiehl’s class.”

  “Do you think she was a nicer teacher before she married Mr. Fiehl? Like, she was reasonable and then once she married a guy whose surname is pronounced like ‘fail,’ she figured she had to live up to it. I wonder if her maiden name is Pass.”

  “Ha!” Marian exclaims. She sits up with a clap. “So it’s my turn. What topic to pick, what to pick …” She taps her chin, but it’s pretty clear she knows exactly what she’s going to ask. And that I probably won’t like it. Usually I can spot a Gleason trap a mile away. Not this time. “Oh, I know! Neil! As in, thoughts regarding Neil.”

  I internally beg my face to not betray me by turning crimson, although I know it’ll be a lost cause. Of course Marian would’ve figured out that there’s something going on. Or not going on. It’s hard to keep anything from her. It isn’t like I don’t want to talk about it, but she used to take baths with him as a kid. I doubt she wants to hear about her best friend thinking about him in such non-innocent ways.

  “Okay,” I say as my mind races to think of things to say about Neil. It’s pretty easy: he’s sweet, he makes butterflies swirl in my stomach, his forehead crinkles in this swoony way when he’s concentrating on something. But what can I say about him to Marian? “He’s currently my favorite Gleason,” I start, even though I’m not sure whether that’s a truth or lie at this point.

  “Hey!” Marian says. “I’m just going to stop you right there because I know for a fact that’s a lie.”

  I feel relieved for only a split second, because there’s no way she’s going to let me off that easy.

  “Anyway, I really want to do this. Ready?” she asks, and I’m not sure if I am. “He refuses to eat green M&M’S, he’s bungee jumping this summer, and he’s going
to ask someone out this week.”

  My heart plunges at the last one. Do I want that to be a truth or a lie? I know that there’s something about his older brother telling him as a kid that green candy was snot-flavored, so I think the green thing might be true. The Gleasons and their hang-ups on candy. Neil isn’t the bungee-jumping type, but his family does like to dare one another. “The lie is asking someone out?”

  I realize I’m holding my breath as Marian studies me. “Do you really think that boy is going to jump from anything while tethered by his ankles?”

  “Well, your family loves its crazy bets,” I reason.

  “Let me break it down for you,” she says as she raises her eyebrows. “It’s clear Neil has been pining away for a girl. We all have our theories on who said female is.” I swear she’s looking more pointedly at me. Or I’m imagining it. Because I want it to be me. Or maybe that’s why she tried to bring up boys? So, yeah, I clearly have everything figured out.

  Marian continues, “We felt he needed some motivation, so there is a bit of a dare for him to step it up already and ask this mystery girl out. He has until the end of next week.”

  Neil is asking someone out next week. What if it isn’t me? What if when I’ve finally come to admit my feelings for him, I’m going to have to watch him with another girl? What if she’s going to join us for lunch and everything else and I’m going to have to have it shoved into my face?

  So basically, next week is either going to be awesome or the worst.

  Chapter

  FIVE

  Here goes nothing.

  With a deep breath and silent prayer, I focus on the one thing I do have control over and hit submit on my application to UW–Green Bay. I redo the application for my backup options to the campuses at Eau Claire and La Crosse.

  I did it. I applied to college. Next up: financial aid and more scholarships. Fun, fun, fun!

  “It’s almost game time,” Dad shouts from the living room. “I need my good luck charm with me before kickoff.”

  I love all my daily routines with Dad. We don’t just have Taco Tuesdays; we have Chinese Food and Classic Movie Mondays, Bad Movie and Pizza Wednesdays, Game Night Thursdays, and, my favorite: Football Sundays. There’s something about living in Wisconsin that makes cheering for the Green and Gold seep into your DNA. Over the course of the past few years, Dad and I have developed our own complicated and precise game-day traditions.