by Tara K Ross
What just happened? Normally, Tom and I barter for secrets. Some kind of chore or trangible trade is the requirement for silence. He could have come by my room anytime today to state his demands. But now he is leaving the dining room with my secret intact and no hint of an expected exchange. Does he already have something he wants from me? Or is he hiding something too? Either way, he’s off his game. He barely talked during dinner, not even to brownnose Dad about finances. He didn’t take seconds, didn’t even wait for dessert. Okay, so Mom’s pre-dinner announcement of lactose and gluten-free brownies isn’t as enticing as cheesecake. But it still has chocolate. Something is definitely up. By rote, I begin the motions of leaving the table. I need to know what is going on with him.
Dad’s gruff voice breaks through my self-absorbed bubble. “Wouldn’t suggest leaving yet.” He inclines his head toward the kitchen, and I slump back onto my chair. I hate to admit it, but he’s right. If I don’t stay for dessert, Mom will certainly have cause for brooding far into the coming week.
“Right.” I stare at my empty bowl. The silverware symphony was not as fierce tonight, and the resulting silence is stifling. I rack my brain for another neutral conversation topic but come up empty.
Dad scratches his twenty-five-o-clock shadow and throws out the question I had evaded all dinner. “So, Thea, how was your, um, appointment this morning?”
A plate of brownies materializes with impeccable timing. Was Mom waiting in the wings for this question?
Dad shoves one in his mouth and looks everywhere except at Mom or me. Clearly, he is not so gung ho about his baby seeing a psychiatrist. But then, I can’t blame him. After all the stories from Mom’s years of receiving the crazies through ER, not to mention Dr. Ko-wow-ski being my recommended physician, how could he be okay with it?
“You mean the shrink, Dad?” I say with more gusto than I’d intended. His shoulders collapse inward with the word. Watching him crumple takes away all the fun of trying to get a rise. I soften my tone. “He was actually helpful today.”
He unfolds a little from his recoil. Mom leans in. “Really? That’s so good to hear, sweetie.”
Both my parents appear more alert than they have all dinner, so I continue. “Yeah. He said I can learn to control the chain of thinking that leads to some of my anxiety. Does that make sense?”
She clasps her hands together under her chin. “Absolutely. Did he give you any strategies to work on this week?”
Oh no. I didn’t think she would want specifics already. Think Thea, what was he piping about at the end? “He said when I feel a stressor coming, I can visualize myself in a calming place and practice roller-coaster breathing on my fingers.” I demonstrate, sliding one finger up and down the palm of my other hand.
“Sure, that’s a great start.” Her voice lightens and takes on her nurse quality. I glance at Dad; the strains in his forehead have flattened.
“I’ll use it tonight.” I pause. “Not that a coffeehouse will be stressful. But it’ll be a good practice run. In case something more stressful does come up. In the next few days. Or weeks.” I end my rambling with an unnatural, stretched-lip smirk.
“I think an evening with your girlfriends sounds like a great idea.” Mom takes a sip of her wine. Dad reaches for another brownie and I do the same. See, Thea? Let them think you are fixed and all will be good.
Dad chews and swallows. “Curfew still applies. And all our other family rules.”
“Got it.” I beam for real this time and excuse myself from the table—careful to take my dishes away first—then dash for the stairs. An hour later, I’m back downstairs dressed in Ashley’s outfit. I quickly retrieve my jacket and scarf to avoid any possible questions regarding the borrowed wardrobe. Per Ashley’s suggestion, I’ve tied my hair back and applied makeup as demonstrated by the YouTube tutorial Jade swore by.
A courtroom argument travels from the TV in the family room, and I announce my departure lower than the volume. “Bye guys. Be back by eleven.”
There is no response. I slip into Ashley’s boots and escape out the front door. Just before I release the knob to avoid the echoing click, I am yanked back toward the house, my shoulder feeling close to dislocation. Good thing I practice lunges with cross-country. I narrowly avoid a butt-plant across the threshold. Tom gawks at me, holding the other side of the door handle. Not a word is spoken, but our wide eyes pass along a mutually understood message: Do not ruin my escape.
“What the heck, Tom,” I say through a clenched jaw, the contents of my purse now strewn across the front steps.
“Shh.” He steps onto the porch and gently closes the door behind both of us. “They think I’m upstairs studying.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I throw my keys back into my bag next to Evan’s journal and check to make sure my phone has survived the spill. No new cracks. “It’s already seven fifty.” This is the end of Dr. K and his phone-silencing protocol. The alarm screen flashes red at me. I throw it back in with a huff.
Tom passes me a rogue lip gloss. “If you can keep your mouth shut, I’ll drive you to your little folk fest.”
I straighten my scarf. “And back?”
He blows out a puff of air between his lips. “Fine. But keep in mind you should owe me from dinner.”
Dang it. Apparently, he wasn’t that off his game. “Deal.” I stick out my hand before he decides to rescind his original offer. Only then does it register: Tom has also transformed from his weekend study garb. His thick black hair has been gelled back. Beneath his leather jacket, the gray paisley tie he bought to match his prom date peeks out. I scan down to his black pants and the shoes he wore when ushering at the Living Arts Center.
A smirk grows on his face. He appears to have noticed my heels and makeup too.
“Don’t you even think about saying anything to me, Mr. Double-O-Seven.” I hold up my hand, palm close to his face.
He clears his throat in much the same way Dad does and lowers my hand from his view. “That’s fair.” He pulls out the keys from his pocket and clicks as we approach his car.
I shuffle after him, struggling to appear stable in the booties. “Where are you going anyways?” I ask while we slide into his Civic.
“None of your business.” The engine whirs to life, along with the blast of some undoubtedly classic punk-rock band.
Eyebrows raised, I leave the door open and wait. If his plans are at all interesting, he won’t be able to resist gloating about how much more exciting they are compared to mine.
“Let’s just say I’ve got a function downtown.”
“Downtown Ridgefield, or downtown Toronto?” I close my door now that I have him talking.
“Toronto, Frizz.” He traces his collar with his fingers. “Some of us have moved beyond this farm field.”
This sounds juicy and needs more details, but before the words even get out, he adds, “And that’s all I’m going to say.” He turns up the volume on the radio even higher and drives.
My curiosity will have to wait until tomorrow. Normally, I’d grovel for any chance to travel outside the mundane blocks of my hometown. Tonight though, Ridgefield seems more exciting than it has ever been. Perhaps too exciting. I stare out the side window and silently trace roller coasters.
***
The plaza next to our school is filled with loitering teens, vaping, waiting for friends, and taking selfies at the event for the under-eighteen crowd this weekend. Milk and Honey does not offer its usual comforting reprieve tonight. Even from the outside, silhouettes of countless teens fill the tables and stools. Any one of them could be Gavin. Thank goodness for Jade’s height. I spot her and an exuberant Ashley flanking her. Given the way they are jumping on top of each other, they must have just arrived. I can’t believe I am the last one. Jade points at Tom’s car. We slow to a stop, and some of the tightness in my chest eases. At least they will be with me the whole night.
Tom relieves my ears by dialing down the music. “See you at ten forty-five. I d
on’t want to be late.”
“Got it. Have fun at your function.” I sing the last word.
He huffs air out his nose and blasts the volume again. I close the door and he grumbles, “Sure, as if,” but buried under a guitar riff it could also have been, “Shut it, Frizz.”
What is going on with him? He cracks his knuckles before switching back into drive. I’m pulled from these thoughts by the combing of hair at the back of my neck. I whirl around. Ashley is already fixing and primping my appearance. “Not bad, Miss Thea Louise. Not bad at all.”
Despite the night chill, sweat seeps out of every pore with her innocent action. Out of instinct, I smack her arm away but plaster a grin on my face to assure her I’m fine. “Really?”
“Really.”
Jade comes up to stand beside Ashley, but her attention is not on my transformational efforts. Again. Should I be taking this personally? She stalks Tom’s car as it passes through the parking lot. “Was that Tom?”
Whenever she comes over, she tends to eye-linger on my brother, but then he tends to demand the attention of most people. Given the way her posture has become ballerina-worthy, I’d say she’s lingering on more than his personality.
“Yeah, he cleaned up for some function in Toronto.”
“Did he ever.” She continues to stare at the car like it’s a Jag, rather than a rusty old Civic.
“Uh, no you don’t. I know that look, Jade. Remember who you are ogling.”
“I know,” she says, but her suddenly improved posture says something different.
“Jade, he belches at the dinner table and wears the same T-shirt for a whole week.”
Even as his car squeals out of the parking lot, she continues to leer.
I raise the stakes. “And shouldn’t you be worrying about your current male troubles?” I pull Evan’s notebook out of my purse.
“I’m not … He’s just … Give me that.” She lunges for the notebook and starts tearing through the pages.
“Whoa there. I still have to return it.”
She ignores my caution. “Is the picture—?”
I nod triumphantly. “Don’t worry. It’s stuck in at the back. You can thank me with a large warm beverage.”
Jade’s posture resumes its crescent curve. She leafs to the back and finds the borderline Playboy sketch of herself. “Thank you so much, Thea. I don’t know what—” She meets my eyes. “Whoa, sexy.”
“Who? You?” I bounce my gaze between her and the drawing.
“No, Thea. You. My goodness, your eyes, they are like …”
I raise a newly plucked eyebrow. “Straight out of a YouTube video?” Heat rises to my face with the admission I need YouTube to perform basic female functions.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Ashley says. “You mastered eyeliner and mascara in one evening.”
“It’s really okay? I feel like such a fake.”
“No, it’s fantastic. You don’t look like you, but really, it is all amazing,” Jade says.
“All right then, ladies, I will trust you. Now, can we please get me to a comfy couch before I crumble from ankle fatigue?” I gesture toward the boots.
They both laugh. Ashley reaches out her arm, and I gratefully link mine through it and pull Jade over for my other side. Here goes nothing.
Well, hopefully something.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After a brief pep talk, Jade holds open the door for us and we enter an already crowded café. The collection of reupholstered velvet couches and mismatched wooden chairs has been organized into a semicircle facing a makeshift stage. The Ridgefield unofficial indie rock club already fills most of the seats. Three stools stand in the center, strategically lit by work lamps that could have been taken from Dad’s auto-repair man cave. But the vibrant artwork that adorns the wall behind the stools changes the setting from dank garage to artsy lounge. Ashley spots two empty stools at the back of the café near the bookshelf-supported barista counter and directs us over.
“You guys sit, I’ll grab the bevies.” Jade glances over at Ashley. “Should I make it three or four?”
“Three is good. Ethan will be late. If he shows.”
I stop in my tracks. “If he shows?” Please tell me they did not get into a fight tonight of all nights. I know it’s selfish, but I’m already stressing about Jade’s problems on top of my own. I can’t handle Ashley’s drama too.
She exhales, as though testing her mouthwash on me. “Don’t freak out, Thea. He’s just pouting because his new band didn’t get a set ready in time. I’ll tell him to suck it up for you.”
“Great. A pity friend,” I say.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Jade steps between us and surveys the chalkboard menu. “How does mint hot chocolate sound, ladies?”
Nothing like the offer of a hot beverage to soften a cold front. We both nod in approval. I square my shoulders. Easy, Thea. Stop searching for problems.
Ashley places her dainty Guess purse on one of the open stools. “I’ll try to find an extra seat.” She saunters off toward the most congested area of the café with little difficulty, navigating the crowd that seems to part for her on cue.
While loosening my scarf, I scan the café, striving to appear casual. No sign of Gavin yet. The unzipping of my jacket does not cause sudden shock, so I brave full exposure by slouching out of my bomber, one arm at a time. The familiar faces from school take no notice of my increased bust size and entry into the world of modern makeup. I drape my scarf and jacket over the counter. From the jammed stacks of books under the counter, I dislodge the top book—a tattered copy of Little Women. I leaf through the pages and imagine myself as Jo March. You can do this, Thea. You are a vivacious, confident young woman.
Wait. Did I not spend the last twenty-four hours allowing my friends to alter my appearance to fulfill my girlish fantasy? Wouldn’t that make me a Meg? Do I want to be a Meg? Or am I more like an Amy? I haven’t figured out how to weather any storms yet, so that doesn’t work either.
The crowd thickens, as does my need for a firm shoulder massage. Stop stressing over your fictional character traits. Be casual. Try appearing like the rest of the crowd. You know. Real people.
I replace the book and take out my phone. Tension immediately builds in my chest. Khi’s number stares back at me like an emergency exit: missed call. How did I forget he was coming? Even worse, Ashley and Jade don’t have a clue. With everything else that has been going on, do they even know who he is? I am such an idiot. Who doesn’t share this kind of stuff with their best friends? You are officially a freak show. I have to call him. Now. Before they find out.
My fingers tremble as I hit Khi’s number and wait for the connection. The first ring chimes in synchrony with the café door swinging open. My entire body stiffens. Any self-confidence I had crashes like a rock dropped from a bridge at the sight of Gavin. A tailored, gray wool coat accentuates his broad shoulders and somehow adds height and maturity to his skater-boy appearance. He holds himself like a man, and I cower like a little schoolgirl who showed up at the wrong party. Nausea takes full effect when I see what trails behind him—or I should say, who trails behind him. A striking girl undoes a similar tailored jacket and reveals black leggings, a denim shirt, and black suede boots. She whispers something in his ear as they survey the café. My mind goes numb. Thea, you can so not do this. I hang up the ringing phone and snatch my infantile bomber off the counter.
Mid-navigation through the crowd, Ashley also stops. With a stool as cover, she openly assesses Gavin’s entourage before shifting her attention to me. She lasers in on me with a ferocity usually reserved for Ethan. No words are needed. She will make a scene if I don’t sit my butt back down. I comply, but zip my bomber up and wrap my scarf around my neck.
“What are you doing?” She swats me on arrival back at the counter.
“Leaving.” I rise, only to be pushed back down by one of her cat-like nails.
I destroy my messy updo with
one trembling swipe. “Did you see who he came with?”
“So what? It could be Lennox’s new girl or one of their sisters for all you know.”
“Lennox?” I risk a glance. I didn’t even notice Lennox enter with them. Talk about tunnel vision. “But did you see what she’s wearing?”
She glances over her shoulder. “Well, she has good fashion sense, I’ll give her that.”
“No, she has your exact fashion sense.” I shrink further into my scarf. “And she pulls it off so much better than me.”
Ashley assesses without constraint. “I disagree. But I see your point. So, let’s make sure you don’t get lost in the crowd.” She taps the burly man sitting next to us. “Can you save these seats for us? We need to use the ladies’ room.”
He complies with a slight jerk of his bearded face. Ashley guides me toward the washroom and, thankfully, away from Gavin and his bombshell.
A few minutes later, we weave back to our seats, Ashley now wearing a denim shirt, black belt, and booties. Jade’s posture relaxes with the sight of us. She must have been bartering with the lumberjack over our seats. She raises a mug in our direction, and he releases security over the stools.
“Did I miss something?” she asks while offering a drink to Ashley.
Placing both wrists on my forehead, I slump onto the far stool, away from the growing crowd. “You can tell her.”
She fills Jade in through a couple of shared glances and then unravels my scarf and pulls at my bomber. “Give me your jacket, young lady, or I will go for your ears.” She licks her finger.
Dang it. I relinquish my shell but maintain my backward stance. Ashley’s fuchsia sleeveless blouse feels like a neon road sign signaling come hither, all testosterone-laden travelers. From my downcast view, I see way more of my skin than I would normally show in a bathing suit.
A steaming hot chocolate is placed next to my elbow. “You rock pink, Thea,” Jade says. “Don’t stress.”
The house lights dim and a hush falls over the café. I catch Nadia’s gaze as she strides past the counter to the stage. She’s too kind to say anything, but the way she rubs her temple says enough; it’s not the color that’s the issue.
