“You just gave him your number,” I say when he’s out of earshot.
“A professional thing. He knows that,” Evita says.
“I’m not totally sure he does,” I tell her.
“No, he does. I already told him he’s not my type. Like, ick, facial hair?” Evita scrunches up her nose. “Lumberjack dudes are more your thing than mine.”
“Who says I have a lumberjack thing?” I ask defensively.
“Um. Hello. You lust after the dude from the Civil Wars. And you have a poster of Ray LaMontagne.”
“I took that down,” I mumble.
“But you didn’t throw it away, did you?” Evita teases.
“Can we please talk about something more important? Something amazing, in fact?” Theo asks with a grin.
“So, your birthday came early, did it?” Evita asks Theo.
“You knew about the quartet?” Theo asks. “And you somehow kept it from me? Color me impressed.”
“I am a tomb,” Evita says mysteriously. “Where’s my drink, Theo?”
“You don’t look like you need any more.”
“Not the point.”
“I got Lacey’s because she wrote me an entire quartet,” Theo argues.
“Yes, but that was a birthday present. And one that was free, I might add.”
I roll my eyes at Evita. But Theo gets up to order something for her.
“Evita, were you … Was that … that guy…” I fumble with the words.
“Is there a question in there?” Evita asks, enjoying my discomfort.
“I get the feeling you’re trying to set me up,” I say.
“I mean, yes, but no. Not really. I mean, why would I do that to myself? We’ve already lost Theo to the dark side. What would I do if you had a guy? I’d be no one’s number one on speed dial,” Evita pouts. “Actually, what are you doing tonight?”
“Umm. Doing homework at your house? Or mine. Why?”
“Cuz Bruno’s throwing a party. There is a good chance it’ll be, like, dismally small and totally lame and a bunch of guys smoking up and spouting pseudo-intellectual-whatever, but it could still be fun.”
“That really doesn’t sound like my scene,” I say, sipping my drink. “I have a paper on condoms to write. And possibly a pamphlet, too.”
“You should totally distribute a pamphlet,” Evita says. “But, then, shouldn’t you practice what you preach? This party could be an excellent time to … explore your options.”
“Evita.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to get me laid?”
“I mean. Not actively…,” Evita says. “You just seemed so worried about that stuff the other day.”
“What stuff?” I ask her.
“The sex stuff, Lace. I mean, you even say virginity shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it seems like it is for you.”
“What’s a big deal?” Theo hands Evita a coffee. “That’s decaf.”
“Jerk,” Evita grumbles. “And we were discussing Lacey’s deflowering.”
“See!” I say, my cheeks growing hotter by the second. “Deflowering! What an awful, awful way to put it. But, regardless, for me it’s more about … you know … only doing what I’m comfortable with.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Evita, lay off. She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Theo says.
I hate that he feels like he needs to come to my aid. “Theo. It’s fine.” I take a sip of my drink and then sigh. “It’s not like I’m averse to the whole kissing thing, you know. And I’m not a prude, in theory. It’s just a lack of … opportunity.”
“Which is why we should go to this party,” Evita counters.
“What party?” Theo asks.
Evita ignores him. “Blow off your homework. Your grades are great. Come to the party. Get a little drunk. Kiss someone. I mean, round second base if you want. But I think it’ll help you not be so uncomfortable when it comes up, you know?”
“How old is he?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Twenty?”
“The whole idea of going to a party to get my first kiss out of the way is mortifying,” I tell her.
“I’m pretty sure that’s why people go to parties,” Theo says.
“True!” Evita says.
“Still. No,” I tell them.
“Whatever. Okay. The real reason for this coffee date: I have news!” Evita squeals.
Theo looks at me. “And she’s going to make us beg her to tell us.”
Evita ignores him. “Drumroll, please.”
Neither of us provides her a drumroll, but she forges ahead. “We have a gig!”
“Are we really ready for that?” I ask her.
“Duh. Yes. It’s at that college bar The Map. It’s an all-ages night next Wednesday. Bruno says they’ve just started doing live music and open-mic nights and stuff. It won’t be too much pressure. Apparently, their setup is pretty nice.”
“That’s awesome!” Theo says.
“Yeah. I mean. We can prepare at least a short set,” I say. Theo and Evita’s excitement is contagious. “So I do have a little news of my own. I’m thinking of volunteering at the hospital.”
“When?” Evita asks. Her smile drops.
“I don’t know yet. I could still just do Sundays. Kelly said I could be a doula. Like, actually be involved in the births. So, I don’t know if I’d be on call or do shifts or what. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be totally there with the Sparrows,” I add when I see her scrunch up her face. “I’m going to try it out this Sunday and then figure it out from there.”
“That sounds good,” Theo says unconvincingly.
“Like, how long on Sunday?” Evita asks. “We need all the rehearsal time we can get. Is this gonna be your new thing? First condom demonstrations to prevent pregnancy, but when that doesn’t work you’re gonna deliver the babies?” Still scrunched.
“I hadn’t tied it all together like that, but, no. It’s not my thing. It’s a thing. Maybe. I’m good at it.” I’m holding my ground. Evita probably hopes that if she raises issues with this, I’ll just decide not to do it. “How often do you really find something you enjoy and are good at?” I ask her and Theo.
“Not often. So far that’s only ever been music,” Theo says.
“I still love music,” I say. “And. Full disclosure … My mom asked me to maybe apply to nursing school. So I sent an application to UMass Amherst.”
Both Evita and Theo suck in a gasp.
“Just applying. Not going there. I’m just keeping options open. It doesn’t change the whole ‘Boston or bust’ thing. I’m not breaking up the band.” I look back and forth between their dismayed faces. “I have to know exactly how I feel about doing the doula thing and the nursing thing. I mean, it’s likely it just won’t be for me, right? So, I’ll know for sure. But it was important to my mom. And … I don’t know,” I ramble.
“If you think you might want to do that, then you should try it out,” Theo says. “I mean the volunteering. I don’t think you should try going to a different college … but … yeah, maybe it’ll help you figure stuff out?” He shrugs and looks at Evita.
Evita’s face is still scrunched, but she must see my conviction. “Yeah. You do you. I mean, right? It could be cool. Babies. And stuff. You like that stuff.”
“Evita. It’s okay. You don’t have to get it,” I say.
“Okay.” She’s quiet for a second. Then she laughs. “You should see your face.”
“What?” I ask.
“You look nervous. I’m not that scary, am I?”
“Yeah. Sometimes you really are.”
“Okay, but, I support you. I just like to know what’s going on. Talk to me about stuff, you know?” Evita says. “We’re a team.”
“We’re a team,” Theo repeats.
“That’s incredibly sappy.” I smile.
“I do want you to be happy. Both of you. I just also want the Sparrows to be our thing. I guess it doesn
’t have to be our only thing. Right? So, yeah, volunteer, and just get your butt over to my house as soon as you’re done.”
“Sounds good,” I tell her.
“Theo,” Evita snaps.
Theo is suddenly engrossed in his phone and typing something quickly.
“Sorry. Lily Ann is hoping to hang out after youth group,” Theo says, his head still buried in his phone.
Evita and I roll our eyes at each other. And sure enough, a pfffff escapes my lips.
“I heard that,” Theo says, not looking up. “Is it cool if she hangs out with us later? Her mom extended curfew for an hour tonight.”
“Veto,” Evita says.
“Do you really need to be like that?” Theo asks.
“Sorry. That was mean. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But I also don’t need to hang out with someone I don’t like. And I do not like her.”
Theo sighs and shoves away from the table. “Her church is only half a mile from here.”
“It’s getting cold out,” Evita says. Theo pauses, and I’m sure she’s about to give him reasons not to leave. “But you can have my mittens.” She hands him these hideous orange jack-o’-lantern mittens, which he accepts.
“Yeah. Bye, Lacey. Thanks a million for the best birthday present in the entire world.” He gives me a half smile. “Evita, try to be cool?”
She shrugs. The way she does it is so cold, Theo just sort of crumbles. His face falls, and he seems to shrink a few inches. “Bye,” he mumbles, and walks out of the café.
“Evita. Seriously? Wasn’t that a little harsh?” I ask, draining my coffee. “We’ve talked about this. Hang on.” I get up and follow Theo out the door before I can fully formulate what I even want to say to him. I just hate seeing him defeated like that. “Theo!” I call.
He turns around and gives me this grin like he hadn’t just been bummed out a second ago.
“Lacey, where the hell is your jacket?” he asks when he sees me holding my bare arms.
“I just wanted to say how glad I am that you like the quartet.” Which is a pretty stupid reason to chase after him. “And, like, don’t let Evita being grouchy ruin a good day.”
“She did not ruin it. I just really wish she could get on board with Lily Ann.”
“I know.”
“You guys should maybe actually go to that guy’s party,” he says.
“Stop! I do not need you trying to hook me up, too.”
He looks surprised for a second. “No. I wasn’t. I just meant that you and Evita should do something fun so, you know, you guys don’t miss me too much,” he says. “That sounds super conceited. I just mean that … I don’t want you guys talking trash when I hang out with Lily Ann.”
“I swear.”
He reaches over with those ugly mittens and rubs my cold arms. “I’m gonna go get Lily Ann. Today was fucking awesome. Thanks so much for the song.” He smiles. “Again. A million times.”
Back in the coffee shop, Evita is chatting with a barista. She cannot go even a few minutes without human companionship. But as soon as she spots me, she blows off the barista and sits back down. “Now that Theo’s gone, I can finally ask you: What on earth should I get him for his birthday?”
“You haven’t gotten him something yet? His birthday is on Tuesday.”
“I could buy him something from the grocery store. Jelly beans or Hot Wheels or something. What else is still open?”
“You should just officially give him that Bjork shirt he loves so much.”
“Oh my god. Yes. Perfect.” She leans back in her chair.
“Do you maybe think the Sparrows could use another singer?” I ask her, remembering Alice. I am way too aware of the fact that I shouldn’t bring her up right after talking about volunteering or birth.
“It depends on the singer.”
“Remember Alice?”
“Alice? Evans?” Evita asks. “I haven’t seen her all year. She must have moved or something.”
“Yeah. No. She hasn’t moved. I ran into her the other day,” I say.
“Where has she been? I miss her!” Evita says.
“Oh. She’s … homeschooling, I guess.”
“Homeschooling? Is it … like … a religious thing?” she asks like it’s a dirty word. We are in the minority at this school for not being active in any youth group. We’re not even the kind of people who go to church on Christmas, let alone every Sunday.
“I don’t think so. But she’s still around. Kind of lonely, I think,” I say.
“What? Seriously? Did you get her number? Alice would be perfect! Not to diss your vocals or anything.”
“It’s fine. Here.” I pass my phone to her. She puts the number in her phone.
“She’ll be perfect. But, oh my god, adding another singer would be a lot of work. But, like, she’d be really good. Okay. I’m excited. I’m gonna call her right now.”
“You really don’t need more caffeine.” I laugh.
“We. Have. A. Gig. I’m freaking excited,” she says, putting the phone to her ear. “Alice! It’s Evita. Where have you been? I miss you! So you have to come sing with us.”
Evita keeps filling Alice in on the details. She’s so excited and happy, I can’t help but smile. This is everything we’ve been wanting.
Ten
Maybe Evita was joking when she suggested I make a pamphlet, but I am totally into the idea. Evita decided to go to Bruno’s party, so I’m at home with my mom. She’s predictably thrilled with the pamphlet idea.
She gives me her laptop so I can work on it while we watch Mean Girls. Charlie has Dylan at swim lessons at the rec center, so it’s just me and her, just like the old days. Mean Girls is the perfect movie, because we essentially talk right through it and pause our discussion for the best lines.
“So, like, instructions for when and how to use condoms,” I say.
“You need an illustration for that. They are on all the inserts when you buy them,” Mom says. “And maybe add where to get them for free. Like the clinic. Or the college health center. Honestly, they should have them at your school. But I guess hell will freeze over before that happens.”
“Probably.”
We pause the discussion for one of our favorite scenes. My mom says the “cool mom” lines along with the TV.
“And stats about how much it protects you from STIs. You could even add an illustration with the cups,” she suggests.
“You really are the cool mom,” I say, putting the laptop aside. “I’m gonna get us sodas.”
I pause the movie and head upstairs when I hear a knock at the door. I answer it and my heart gives a thud. For the second time in two weeks, Theo is here. Without Evita. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He grins at me. “Just wanted to come hang out with my favorite composer.”
“Beethoven has been dead awhile,” I joke.
Once he’s inside, he leans over the banister to wave to my mom. “Hi, Ms. Burke.”
“Come on down, Theo,” she calls up to him.
“You want a soda?” I ask him.
“I got it.” He gives my arm a little squeeze before he helps himself from the fridge.
We get settled back in to watch the movie. My mom’s on one arm of the sectional and Theo and I are on the other. It’s cold down here, so I reach for a throw blanket and without missing a beat, Theo arranges it over both of us and puts his arm around me. I tell him about the pamphlet, and if it embarrasses him to be talking condoms with my mom, he doesn’t let on.
After the movie we go to hang out in my room. “Oh, you want to see this piece I was writing with a bunch of timpani and, like, bodhrans and taiko drums and stuff? I totally think that with Evita’s drum sounds it could be a cool beat.” I start to boot up my ancient computer, and I’m acutely aware that Theo is suddenly sort of tense.
“Sounds cool.” He says it like it’s anything but cool.
There’s this awkwardness with us sitting here. And I hate it. Especially because I don’t k
now where it came from. Things are easy with us. They always are. But Theo looks tense.
It’s weirdly formal, but Theo reaches out and grabs my hand. He pulls me to stand from my desk and leads me to sit on the edge of my bed. Our fingers intertwine, and he leans back and looks at me.
“Okay. So. I feel so shitty about this…,” Theo says, and my heart starts galloping. “Lily Ann doesn’t think we should play the quartet you wrote.”
I pull my hand away in surprise. “What? She said she liked it.”
And just like that, I’ve lost his eye contact and he stares instead at his now empty hand. “She thinks it’s weird that you wrote it for me.”
“Weird?” My gut drops.
“Like. Inappropriate?” he says.
My mouth goes dry. I don’t know if I should defend why it’s perfectly appropriate, or rage against Lily Ann’s stupidity like Evita would. Why can’t we have this talk with Evita here? “I thought she wanted to play it.”
“No. She did. But the more she thought about it, she said it seemed a bit like … a grand romantic gesture.” He’s so crestfallen, I almost don’t want to be angry at him, but I suddenly am.
“So what did you say? Because that’s ridiculous. I mean, you wrote me a song for my birthday two years ago. I don’t think you were trying to woo me.”
“Right. I guess … this maybe feels different.”
“Oh.” I scoot as far away from him as I can. “So, you think…”
“No. I don’t. But she’s not comfortable with it. And I think we need to respect that, you know?”
“No. I mean. God!” I jump up from the bed. “I’ll tell her it’s not a romantic gesture. We always make music stuff for each other. Did you tell her that? Does she get total veto power? I mean, there are four of us. I’ve had to play through stuff I didn’t like.”
“I don’t think she gets veto power for the quartet necessarily. But she sort of does with me.” He finally looks at me.
“That’s bullshit,” I say, trying not to let my voice get too loud. I pull my knees up to my chest and start fiddling with the edge of one of my sleeves.
“I know it is. But I get what she’s saying. Not that…” Theo stands up. “Fuck. This is the worst.”
“I just don’t get it,” I say. “You should have stood up for me.” Because that’s what best friends do.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 6
