“Let’s do that again, then,” I say. Somehow with the next push, she is certain she feels something. It still takes a good fifteen minutes until we can see her progress.
“Want a mirror to see your baby?” Jamie asks after a particularly good push.
“You can see the baby?” Shana asks. Her eyes fill with tears.
“I can see the baby enough to know she has a full head of hair,” I tell her.
The nurse hands me a mirror to hold for her. “I’m going to get Kelly, because I think we are just a few minutes from meeting your baby.” She pats Shana on the knee and gives me a wide smile.
It still takes twenty minutes once Kelly is there. But eventually, that beautiful baby is born and lets out the biggest squall imaginable. And the baby is not the only one crying. Shana is sobbing happy, blubbery tears.
It’s well after nine o’clock by the time Shana is settled with the baby and looking ready for a well-deserved nap. “I seriously could not have done that without you,” she says.
“You did such an awesome job getting her here.” I smile.
I should be tired; I’ve been on my feet since around six this morning. But I’m on this incredible high.
Once I’ve said good-bye to Shana, I finally look at my phone. I don’t even read the texts I’ve missed because there are twelve of them. Instead, I dial Evita.
“I know I’m late. I couldn’t leave this mom.”
“You are late. Very late. But fortunately for you, we’ve been spending this whole time catching Alice up.”
“Okay, I’m gonna get my mom to drive me over there,” I say. “You want me to bring anything? Food? Coffee?”
“You know I would never say no to french fries,” Evita says. Then I hear her asking Theo and Alice if they want anything. “You’re going to want a pen to write this down,” she says.
Half an hour later, armed with milkshakes, burgers, and fries, I kick Evita’s door because my hands are too full to knock. I can hear that they’re in the middle of playing a song, and it sounds really good.
Janice opens the door. “Hey, Lacey. Evita says you were singlehandedly delivering a baby or something?”
“I had a little help. But, yeah, I just saw a birth. It was kind of awesome.”
“The kids will be happy you’re here,” Janice says as she helps me juggle the food.
I stand off to the side of the living room while they finish the song. Alice is singing most of the lead vocals. They all look in the zone. Theo smiles at me, but Alice and Evita are way too into singing to acknowledge my presence.
“Wow,” I say when they are done. “Alice. You sound so great!”
“She learned all the lyrics. Like. Since yesterday,” Evita says. “Are those my fries?”
Even though it’s past the time Janice normally makes us stop, we play for another hour. I can’t believe we just added Alice this weekend, because everything goes so smoothly.
“We might actually be ready for our gig!” Evita says.
“Did you have any doubts?” Theo asks.
“Honestly? Yes. But I think if we have a good rehearsal tomorrow and Tuesday, we’ll be fine. We’re really a band!” she squeals.
Theo holds up a milkshake. “To the Sparrows!”
Fourteen
I’m so tired when I arrive at school on Monday morning. After our rehearsal, I spent the night with Evita, but I still had to go home to print out my condom paper and the pamphlets. I meet Evita and Theo at Evita’s locker.
“You look awful,” Evita says.
“Don’t listen to her. You look beautiful,” Theo says.
Despite my exhaustion, his words, even if they were said in jest, give me a little thrill. “Will you guys help me fold these?” I ask them. I look over my shoulder to make sure there aren’t any teachers around. Because on these sheets there may or may not be drawings of erect penises. Each sheet gets folded in half twice. The sides that face out look innocuous enough. Just a slogan: STAY INFORMED. STAY SAFE. I’m not happy with it as a slogan, but I didn’t have anything else. The inside has the instructions on how and when to use condoms. (There’s an emphasis on EVERY TIME!)
Theo grabs a stack and starts folding them up against the lockers. “How many did you print?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Only thirty or forty copies. I had to use my mom’s printer, and it started to run out of ink.”
“I’ll keep one and make photocopies after school or something,” Theo says with a smile.
“I almost forgot!” Evita says. “I have to show you my paper.” She opens her backpack.
“Oh god, my paper is awful. I couldn’t think of five pages’ worth of ‘Don’t drink and drive.’ Like, that statement pretty much says it all,” Theo says to her.
Evita hands me her paper, which she balances carefully on both of her hands, and she’s singing an aah like some sort of angelic choir, as if she’s handing me a holy relic.
“Please tell me this is a joke,” I tell her.
“Obviously. But what are the chances anyone else knows I’m joking?” she says slyly.
The title of her paper is Avoiding Date Rape.
“That is pure genius, Vita,” Theo says, looking over her shoulder. “I sort of wish I had thought of it. Although in my case it’d be like: ‘Don’t assault anyone.’ That definitely would not be enough material for five pages.”
“Well, this is seven pages. Complete with illustrations of appropriate clothing and staying locked in your room on a Friday night.”
Sure enough, there’s a stick-figure Evita on the last page, sitting in a chair, looking bored. The door in the illustration has a million locks on it, and Evita sips from a cup that is labeled DRINK POURED ONLY BY ME.
“She’s gonna know it’s a joke when she gets to the pictures,” I point out.
“Whatever. I printed an extra copy for your mom,” she tells me.
“She’ll be delighted.”
“How did your paper turn out?” Theo asks me.
“Mine is also seven pages. But the last two pages are my bibliography. She can be angry that I chose to write about condoms, but I think my research is pretty thorough.” I hand my paper to Theo, who hands me back a stack of folded pamphlets.
“We should turn them in at the same time, but you should let me put mine on top,” Theo says.
“Probably a good idea,” Evita says. “Let me hand some of these bad boys out. I need to make sure I get them to our established clients first.”
Lily Ann walks over to us. “What are those?”
Theo looks at me as if to ask permission to tell Lily Ann. I shrug. No, I don’t want her in on our plans, but I think of all the times I’ve told Evita to be nice to her, and so I tell her. “I wanted to print up some facts for anyone not lucky enough to see my little condom demonstration. And a lot of people have been asking me questions during lunch and stuff.”
“Sex questions?” Lily Ann giggles.
“I’m going to chorus!” Evita announces. I so wish I were going with her.
“Yeah. I mean, I want to make people feel like they can talk about this stuff without feeling shame.”
“Oh, I don’t feel shame talking about it,” Lily Ann says, linking her arm with Theo’s.
Theo’s arm stiffens, and then he unwraps himself from her. “Actually, Lily Ann, I have to talk to Lacey for a minute. But we’ll meet you in orchestra.”
Lily Ann pouts and I swear she glares at me, but then she smiles at Theo. “Sure thing. See you guys soon.” She spins on her heel and walks down the hall.
“Lacey, I know you probably just want to put it behind us. But I’m still so sorry about the quartet thing. I just hate feeling like I’m not … I don’t know … loyal to you. Or grateful. For the quartet. I don’t want her to make you feel weird.”
“I’m going to feel weird around her now,” I tell him honestly. “I can’t really help it.”
“I’m really sorry about that. I’m trying to work it out, okay?�
��
I don’t know what he means by that. Is he breaking up with her? But I can’t ask him, because there’s no way for me to do it in a way that doesn’t make it obvious that I’m hoping and wishing they’ll break up. I’m just not that good of an actress.
“Sure,” I say instead.
“Stuff is just weird right now, right?” Theo asks with a shrug and an easy smile.
“It’s a lot less weird when you aren’t being weird,” I tell him.
“Am I being weird?”
I roll my eyes, making the pfffff noise. He elbows me.
“Come on,” Theo says. “Let’s go give a couple of these to the sexually active band geeks.”
Mean Girls quotes always make things less weird.
* * *
Fortunately, Mrs. Einhorn doesn’t look at our papers when we hand them in. The papers sit on her desk the entire class while she starts a discussion on “ways to stay active.” The whole class is supposed to be brainstorming activities that will help keep us fit. She seems especially excited when anyone suggests anything that’s not obviously exercise. Like this girl says carrying laundry up the stairs is a good workout, and Mrs. Einhorn wholeheartedly agrees.
“Is it wrong that I hope someone says sex?” Evita whispers.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I say.
“Lacey, care to share an idea?” Mrs. Einhorn asks, looking disapproving because I was talking.
“Hiking,” I say.
Mrs. Einhorn raises an eyebrow and adds it to the list on the board.
“Lame,” Evita whispers.
“Evita?” Mrs. Einhorn calls.
“Bowling,” Evita answers.
When Mrs. Einhorn turns her back to write that on the board, I whisper “Chicken” at Evita. She just shrugs.
Once every student has offered some sort of lame form of exercise, Mrs. Einhorn tells us we can work on schoolwork for the rest of class as long as we’re quiet. I know it’s coming, and I feel totally justified in writing my paper, but I still have a jolt of nerves when she reaches for our papers.
“Don’t worry about it,” Evita says. “Let’s just work on lyrics or something.”
Theo turns around. “You seriously didn’t do anything wrong writing your paper on that.”
“Do I look worried?” I ask.
Theo and Evita exchange a look. “Okay. So. Song lyrics. Like how great would it be if we could write a feminist rage piece, right?” Evita asks.
“Love it,” Theo says. “Lacey, do we know anyone who has feminist rage?”
“Guys, always describing feminists as raging does not help feminism. Like feminism is a totally reasonable, equitable thing to be supporting. We don’t have to be yelling and burning our bras, you know?”
“Writing a song about moderate, calm feminism just doesn’t sound as fun,” Evita says.
We whisper and brainstorm for the rest of the class. I keep an eye on the clock, wishing time would go faster so I could get out of here. I’m just waiting for Mrs. Einhorn to call Evita and me up to her desk, and even though I’m mentally prepared to take a stand, I’m not so great at waiting for it to happen.
With only five minutes left in class, Mrs. Einhorn approaches our group with the papers in hand. “Theo, I think you chose an apt topic for your paper. But, honestly, ladies, I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t take this chance to turn your attitudes around.”
I glance around. Every single student in our class is watching us.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with my attitude. I presented you with a well-researched paper on a topic I am passionate about,” I say.
“And I am similarly super serious about not being a victim,” Evita says.
“Your paper was farcical and insulting. At least Lacey’s is backed up with facts,” Mrs. Einhorn says.
“Can’t argue with that,” Evita says, shrugging.
“But, Lacey, your paper, no matter how well researched, still contains lewd material.”
“Lewd?” I say in disbelief. “You know there’s nothing lewd about a penis or a vagina, right? Those are just parts of the body.”
Victoria, one of the girls who has approached me in the bathroom, chimes in. “That’s not lewd!”
Mrs. Einhorn sets her jaw. “I will not be giving either of you girls credit. But I will certainly take your concerns up with the administration.”
“That’s fine,” I say. “I hope you do. Let me know what they say.”
Mrs. Einhorn sighs and walks back to her desk as the bell rings. I leave feeling proud of my stand and curious about what the administration will say. But I’m also sweating, and the palms of my hands are indented where I was digging my nails into them.
“You rock, Lacey,” Victoria says to me in the hallway as she walks past.
“She has a point,” Theo says.
“You guys have to stop trying to make me feel better. It’s so transparent. And it ignores the fact that I’m not actually upset.”
“Little Lacey just hated being noticed and getting in trouble,” Evita says. “Hard to accept our girl is growing up.” She mimes wiping tears.
“I like the older, wiser Lacey,” Theo says with a grin so goofy, his dimples pop and his ears move. It’s incredibly endearing. “You manage to smash the patriarchy with a minimum of raging. It’s a thing of beauty.”
I get a little jolt when he says this. A jolt of I want to hear him say nice things about me all the time, followed by a pang of How transparent are my feelings at this moment?
“It occurs to me that, along with advertising condoms, we should maybe be plugging our gig? Like, Lacey, next time Mrs. Einhorn talks with us, try to slip in a casual mention of the Sparrows, okay?” Evita suggests.
Fifteen
Evita’s never looked edgier. She’s applying more mascara on her false eyelashes. Her eyes are super glammed-up while the rest of her makeup downplays her other features. She’d look like some sort of Disney princess, but she’s also wearing patched-up and slashed skinny jeans and a giant knit tunic with a cowl that swallows her whole. She doesn’t believe in stilettos, but she’s wearing platform sneakers, and her curly hair is teased to epic proportions.
I have no idea what to wear. Janice keeps fluttering by and begging Evita to let her come, but Evita won’t hear of it.
“I promise I will send you a video,” Theo tells her, trying to usher her out of the room.
“I look so washed out in this,” I complain. I’ve got on a black shirt and black skinny pants. “People will probably think I’m on the stage crew. But I didn’t bring anything else. Evita, why haven’t we spent more time on our look?”
“A color might make you pop more,” Janice says.
“The only other shirt I have here is flannel,” I say.
“I might have something for you,” Janice tells me. “Be right back.” She disappears and reappears with this flowy emerald green tank. The bust is covered in sequins. It is decidedly not me. “Oh, just try it,” she says, tossing it at me.
I turn my back to the room, then slip off my T-shirt and put the top on. I don’t think there’s a thread of natural fiber in this thing, and it feels slippery and cold. But when I turn around, Evita whistles and Theo’s eyes go wide and I feel like I might as well be naked. “Guys…”
“Shhhhh. You look great.” Janice takes my hand and leads me over to the mirror. I hate to admit it, but … I do. “Okay. Hair.” Before I can protest, she grabs a can of hairspray that she must have been holding the whole time, because it certainly doesn’t belong in Evita’s room. She sits me on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, Mother, it’s your dream come true.” Evita giggles. “A daughter-type figure who will let you make her pretty.”
“You’re a dream come true, darling,” Janice says to Evita. “But this will be fun.”
She sets to work making my somewhat limp, wavy hair into a sleek ponytail. I look … different. But it isn’t bad different. So I start playing with makeu
p, adding more eyeliner than I’ve ever dared. The self-consciousness is giving way to fun, and Theo whines that he’s being left out, so Evita throws him an unopened navy eyeliner.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” he says.
“What kind of a hipster are you?” Evita asks.
“I’ll help you,” I offer.
“Make my eyes look like yours,” Theo says. “That looks awesome.”
I roll my eyes and pfffff, but secretly, I agree. My eyes do look awesome, bigger and browner than they’ve ever been. I sit next to him on the bed and carefully draw some eyeliner on. I get a little thrill when I realize how close our faces are and how I can feel his breath on my wrist and smell that he must have just popped a mint.
“Why don’t we do this at all our sleepovers?” Theo asks.
“Because I would never want to go to school like this,” I say.
“Why the hell not?” Evita asks. “Nothing wrong with feeling sexy. I mean, if that’s your thing. If it’s not your thing, you should probably not leave the house like that, sexpot.”
“Please shut up,” I say brightly. “Is Alice driving with us?”
“She’ll meet us there. Bruno will, too.” I ignore the pointed look Evita gives me about Bruno.
We are all so excited as we load up Evita’s car with our equipment. We’re talking about our set list and how many people we hope will show up. Theo and I keep complimenting each other on our eyeliner. Evita’s in rare form. She’s like a little dictator telling us to be careful and how to stack the cables and stuff. The expensive stuff is placed on blankets in the front seat and buckled in, which I’m pretty sure is Evita just being funny. But it’s hard to tell, so Theo and I sit in the backseat and let the important equipment ride shotgun.
The club is half an hour away in a much bigger town, and, of course, Evita has prepared a playlist just for the occasion. Evita demands that I text Alice to make sure she’ll be on time. And after I slip my phone back into my pocket, Theo grabs my hand. When I turn to look at him, I’m expecting a wide, excited grin, but I just get this little half smile. He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze it back. We stay like this, holding hands, for a lot of the drive. Evita is talking nonstop and doesn’t seem to notice that Theo is only half here. I don’t mention it, because, honestly, I don’t want him to let go of my hand.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 9
