by Cameron Lund
I clench the application in my hands, wondering if I can quickly turn around, back out of the store before she’s noticed me. But it’s too late. Sarah Kozlowski narrows her eyes and then turns away, handing a cone of mint chocolate chip ice cream to the kid at the register.
My mind flashes again to the time she pricked her finger in science lab so she could study her own blood under the microscope, how one of the boys made some joke about studying her period blood next and we all laughed and gagged; that time Olivia texted Sarah pretending to be Kai and I did nothing to stop it. Looking at her now, it all makes me feel a bit queasy.
The kid hands Sarah a large stack of quarters and scampers away with his ice cream, and then we’re alone at the counter.
“Are you lost?” she asks, tucking a blue curl behind one ear. It immediately bounces back into her face.
“What?” I’m caught off guard.
“Forget it.” She holds the ice-cream scoop out to me like a weapon. “What can I get for you?” And then she sees the application in my hands.
I fight the urge to hide it behind my back. I feel weird about working with Sarah K after how we’ve all treated her. But I don’t want to let Sarah control me either. I don’t want to back away from her, let her run me out of this shop from my own shame. And if this job brings me one step closer to getting back with Jordan, it’s all worth it.
So I lift the application up where she can see it. “How about a job?”
She turns away from me, busying herself by straightening things around the cash register—a stapler, a tape dispenser, a box of paper clips. “We’re not hiring, actually.”
“Pretty sure you are,” I say, waving the paper.
She picks up the stapler and clicks it a few times in her hand. “Fine. Fill out the form and stick it in the bucket. The Comic Sans is ironic. Just FYI.” Click click click. “I thought . . . never mind.”
“What?” I sit down at one of the tables and begin filling out the form.
“I thought people like you didn’t get jobs.”
I snap my head up from my paperwork and look at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your crowd. Doesn’t Romina drive an Escalade?”
My crowd. Her casual use of the word stings, because I’m not so sure I’m part of a crowd anymore. My phone has been silent for two days. No one has reached out to see if I’m okay. And it’s not like they all mysteriously broke their phones and have no service, because all those pictures and comments on social media have been pretty freaking loud.
Still—despite all of that, I don’t like Sarah’s implication about my friends. Olivia has never worked, but Romina teaches cello to the kids at the elementary school, and I’m pretty sure Kai coaches soccer. And then there’s Jordan, only a few blocks away at the Upper Crust. My mind flashes to him now, picturing him behind the counter, looking so stupid and adorable in his hairnet. I realize I’m grimacing and take a deep breath before answering.
“I’m doing my own thing this summer.” I have no idea if Sarah has witnessed my demise online, if she even has social media. For one brief moment, I let myself be tempted by the idea that Sarah knows nothing at all, that spending all summer with someone who still thinks of me as the real Penny, as the Penny from before, might be just what I need. But then she ruins it.
“Because you’re in love with your best friend’s boyfriend.”
“That’s none of your business,” I snap.
“Whatever.” She puts down the stapler and picks up a rag and a spray bottle of glass cleaner.
“And Kai and I aren’t in love,” I add. “We kissed—that’s all. I hate him.” My whole body tenses. “Wait, is that what people are saying?”
“I thought it was none of my business.” Sarah smirks. “But . . . if you hate the kid and made out with him anyway? You’re even worse than I thought.”
“It wasn’t—I’m not—” I sputter, but there’s nothing I can actually say in response. She’s right.
“I’m only saying.” She sprays the glass case and starts to scrub. “Maybe you should just let people believe it. Everyone forgives a good love story.”
NOW
I SPEND THE WHOLE NEXT DAY attempting to distract myself, trying to think about literally anything other than the total and complete destruction of my social life. But it’s pretty hard to ignore.
Danny Scott is having a cookout by the lake for his birthday, and if the night of Jordan’s party hadn’t happened, I would be there too: Mike’s Hard Lemonade bought by someone’s older brother, burgers smoking on the grill, Olivia and me giggling and checking out the shirtless guys in the water. The image of it hurts because it’s so easy to imagine. The summer I might have had.
Instead, I spent the day vacuuming my room and organizing my bookshelves by color. I watched a YouTube video to learn how to crochet and took the kit I got for Christmas down out of the closet. I thought about making a scarf, but the fact that it’s summer and a beautiful day made it feel especially pointless.
Now the sun is just starting to set, painting my walls in golden light, so I know everyone must have been at the lake for hours, swimming and tanning and doing other fun summer activities people can do when they haven’t drunkenly destroyed all their friendships.
I check my phone for the millionth time, opening Instagram and flipping over to Olivia’s personal account. She’s posted a picture with Katie, Romina, and Myriah, all of them looking beautiful and sun-dappled in their bathing suits. It feels just like it used to back when I was still a little kid, sitting on the hill at lunchtime watching all the other girls have fun without me—back before the day everything finally started to get better.
It was at Kai’s thirteenth birthday party—the same terrible day I’d run away from Olivia in tears. It was unusually hot, and I’d worn the wrong thing: a big sweatshirt and leggings, oversized and ugly compared to Olivia’s crisp white shorts, Katie’s yellow sundress. I’d felt even more like I didn’t belong.
After Kai’s mom had called my mom to come pick me up, I’d wandered into the visitor center bathroom to hide and then stopped short because Olivia was already in there. She was standing by the sink, and when she turned to me, I could see she was crying.
“Sorry,” I said, because it was instinct. Even if it was Olivia, it still sucked to see someone upset. Her eyes were big and wet, and she was looking at me with what could only be described as terror. And then I saw why. There was a huge red stain on the bottom of Olivia’s white shorts.
“I . . .” she said, wiping at her eyes with her manicured hands. “It just happened.”
“Oh,” I said, like an idiot, coming into the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I hadn’t gotten my period yet, but I knew what it was like having unwanted bodily functions in public.
“You’re probably so happy.” Olivia turned away from the mirror, looking at the back of her shorts, and her face crumpled.
“What?” I had my hands out in front of me, like she was a wounded animal and I wasn’t sure if she was going to attack.
“Well, aren’t you gonna go tell everybody?”
I realized this was it. This was the moment that might save me. If Olivia went back out to the party in her stained shorts, it was going to be just as bad as when I puked. Worse maybe. Kai would give her a horrible nickname of her own. Olivia’s period would make Pukey Penelope go away.
“You can take this.” I untied the sweatshirt from around my waist and held it out to her. She tilted her head to the side and studied me for a second, like I was a science experiment she didn’t understand. She was still so beautiful, even with her face full of tears.
She grabbed the sweatshirt, tying it quickly around her waist. “Thanks, Penelope.”
“Penny,” I corrected.
“Penny,” she repeated. “I like it.”
After the party, it
all changed. Olivia invited me to sit with her at lunch, and then amazingly, my nickname went away. Suddenly, everyone at school was calling me Penny. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, they always say, and that’s exactly what Olivia and I did. And soon we weren’t enemies at all.
There’s always been this underlying layer to our friendship—the fact that it was built on a moment I could have used to ruin her and instead I’d saved her. She’d been horrible to me only an hour before, but I think when I didn’t stoop to her level, she respected me for it.
Except now I’ve betrayed her after all.
I can’t keep hiding out in my room, hoping for this mess to go away. When you make a mess, you clean it up. You vacuum the dirt off the rug. You fix things until they’re better. I need to fix our friendship. And I need to fix things with Jordan.
I have to go to this party.
* * *
• • • • • •
I park my car on the side of the road, behind everyone else’s, and then take the path through the trees down toward the water. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t drive here because I’d be drinking, but I don’t plan on having anything tonight. Just the thought of it, after everything that happened, makes my skin crawl.
The path is dark, so I pull out my phone for a flashlight. But I’ve done this walk a million times. It’s where we usually hang out when there’s a weekend no one’s parents are gone. All the cars on the side of the road make it kinda obvious, but the path to the water is long enough that the cops never bother to walk it.
The beat of the music from somebody’s speaker gets louder as I approach, and I can hear laughter, drunk and relaxed. There’s a firepit, glowing now that the sun has fully set, a grill, and a beer pong table someone carried all the way down here last year. Some camping chairs are propped in the sand, along with some soggy cushions that have probably been here since our parents were our age.
I stand on the edge of the path, too nervous to walk out onto the beach. All I can think about is the video Romina posted, Olivia’s angry comments below it, the way my phone has been silent for days. I don’t know how they’re going to react when they see me, and I brace myself for the worst.
I walk over to a folding table piled with a thirty rack and some sticky red cups, reaching for a beer, and then putting it back down when I remember I’m not drinking.
Danny sees me then. He’s big and hulking, would be a football player if our school had a team, but he’s so drunk he looks unsteady, a tree blowing in a strong wind. “Hey, Penny!” he says. “Penny for your thoughts!”
“Hey, Danny,” I say. “Happy birthday.”
“Where have you been all day?”
I’m about to answer him, make something up, when the smile on his face fades and I see he’s remembered. “Oh,” he says. “They’re all talking about you. Olivia’s piiissssed.” He draws the word out, his voice raising in pitch.
I wonder then if Kai is here—if he was brave or stupid enough to show his face too. “Have you seen Kai?” I ask.
Danny smiles, raising his eyebrows. “You and Tanaka, eh?” He takes a long sip of beer. “I support it. Let’s switch everything up.”
“Not me and Kai,” I say. “I’m with Jordan.” I realize my mistake and correct myself, the act of it physically painful. “Was with Jordan. We just need to talk it out some more and then we’ll get back together.”
“I dunno,” Danny says, taking another slurp of beer. “I always thought you and Tanaka would hook up one of these days. You’ve got Han and Leia vibes.” Danny has been obsessed with Star Wars since third grade and sometimes still wears embarrassing novelty shirts to school.
“It was a mistake.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, scanning the beach for Olivia or Jordan, but it’s too dark to make out anyone’s figures.
“Whatever,” Danny says. “He’s down there in the water if you want him. Been here all day.” He motions vaguely in the direction of the lake, and I can just make out a shadowed silhouette that looks like Kai standing with a few other guys. Of course he’s here. Why would Kai ever let a small thing like cheating on his girlfriend get in the way of a party? He was probably splashing around in the water all afternoon while I was stress-vacuuming.
Danny burps, crushing his beer can and throwing it down into the sand. “I’ll see you later, Penny.” He musses the top of my head with his bear paw hand, and as he lumbers away, it hits me. Danny isn’t mad. Danny is talking to me, not treating me like I’m some social pariah.
But maybe he’s just too drunk to hate me.
Still, it feels good. It gives me hope that I’ll be able to make this better.
I take a step toward the fire, scanning the shadowy figures in the distance, and then turn back to the woods in time to see Myriah coming toward me from behind a tree. We both look at each other for a second, do that thing where we try to decide if we should pretend we didn’t see each other.
“Um, sorry,” she says, taking a hesitant step closer. “I was just . . . peeing.”
“No, you’re fine,” I say, taking my hands out of my pockets and then stuffing them back in. “It’s okay. Go for it.”
“No, I already did.” This is all so awkward. I don’t want Myriah to be mad at me—if dear, sweet Myriah with her butterfly clips and her pink daisy-print bathing suit hated me, it would break my heart.
But then she smiles. I feel like I can breathe again.
“How is everything?” she asks, tentative. I can tell she’s searching the beach behind me—like she’s afraid we might get caught together.
“Are you allowed to talk to me?” As soon as I ask, I want to suck the words back in. I don’t want to say anything that will push her away.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she says. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t text you, or, like . . .” She trails off. We both know why she didn’t text me.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I get it.”
“Can I just say something?” She takes a cautious step toward me, her voice quiet. “I mean, maybe this is super messed up—and don’t tell Olivia—but the truth is . . . all of us think this is kind of romantic.”
I actually laugh out loud. Of all the things this crazy horrible situation from the last few days has been, romantic is not one of them. “How?”
Myriah chews her lip. “Well, I mean, you and Kai falling in love.” I blink at her for a few seconds, not answering, and she continues, “Well, you are, aren’t you? I know you’re a good person, Penny. Obviously, you wouldn’t do something like this unless you had a good reason. And maybe you and Kai went about things in a messy way, but you’re meant for each other.”
I know I should answer her, but my words feel stuck in my throat. How can I possibly tell Myriah that she’s wrong—that I kissed Kai for no good reason; that this isn’t the romance she wants it to be; that no, actually, I’m not a good person after all?
I think back to what Sarah Kozlowski said to me the other day at Scoops: Maybe you should just let people believe it. Everyone forgives a good love story.
My friends have been rooting for Kai and me to get together for as long as I can remember. They’re not mad because they think this is all some twisted, romantic happy ending.
They think this is a love story.
“You’re right,” I say. “Yes. Kai and I have been fighting our feelings for a while now, but it was getting harder and harder to resist him.”
Myriah smiles. “I knew it.”
“We have those Han and Leia vibes, you know? I know it’s all wrong, but I can’t help it. We were written in the stars.”
Myriah sighs. “Soul Mate City.”
I am fully aware of the hole I am digging myself into as I speak. At this point I might as well bury my whole body in the sand of this beach and suffocate. If Kai finds out what I said, he’s going to kill me. And Jordan—Jordan! J
ordan will think he was right about the boathouse all along. He’ll think I’ve been lying to him.
But I don’t want to be the terrible person they’ll think I am if they find out the truth. I like the kindness in Myriah’s eyes too much.
“We should tell everyone,” she says. “Do you want me to talk to Olivia? Maybe she would understand if—”
“No!” I say, the word a little too loud. “No, I’ll handle it.” I don’t want Myriah spreading this information all over the beach. I have to find Kai—need to talk to him before he hears my stupid lie from anyone else. Maybe we can fix this. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Myriah, heading toward Kai’s shadowy figure standing in the surf with a group of guys from the basketball team.
He’s bouncing a hacky sack on his foot when I charge up to him and grab his arm. The hacky sack falls into the wet sand with a splat. There’s a chorus of annoyed groans around me, but I pull him away from the group before they can protest.
“Ow,” Kai says, tugging his arm from me as we walk back up the beach toward the table of beers by the tree line. “That was obnoxious, even for you.”
“I did something bad,” I say.
“Well, yeah, that’s been established.” He smirks. “You want a beer?” Kai nods toward the table behind us. I don’t want a beer from Kai. Really, I don’t want a beer from anyone.
“I’m not drinking.”
“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t.”
It feels like a jab. As if he has any right to judge, considering he drank too much at Jordan’s party too.
