Girl Crushed

by Katie Heaney

  “Are you a Cancer?” Ruby asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “Aquarius.”

  “That’s why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Your feelings are so…big,” she said.

  I laughed. “Would you have said that explained it no matter what I said?”

  “Maybe,” Ruby admitted. “Unless you said Capricorn, and then no.”

  Unsure what else to do, I reached for my cocoa and took a sip. I grimaced—too cold—and was once again mystified by my inability to catch hot chocolate at the correct temperature.

  “What do we do now?” said Ruby.

  “Can we be friends?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can I still come to your show?”

  Ruby threw her head back. “Ha! No, Quinn. You’re banned from your own event you planned.”

  I smiled, squashing the tiny part of me that hoped she’d ask me not to come, just so I could feel justified in my woundedness. If our conclusion were more dramatic, and Ruby properly dumped me, or I properly dumped her, and we refused to speak to one another ever again, at least people would know I mattered to her.

  “What did Mikey and them think? About us, I mean,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Mikey was whatever, but David and Ben were big fans.”

  “Ew,” I said.

  “I know. I had to give them a lecture on, like, the fetishizing male gaze.”

  “I bet they loved that.”

  We smiled at each other, and in that moment, something in my chest unlocked. I realized then that I did not care, really, what Mikey or David or Ben thought of me, or of me and Ruby. Neither did I care what any of the other ruler-straight so-called popular kids thought. Their long and horrible reign was ending. Soon we would all be starting over. There would be a new social order in college and, if my mom was to be believed, at every job I ever had, but nobody could make me care if I didn’t want to. The way those people lived their lives didn’t have to have anything to do with the way I lived mine. And the truth was, nobody was thinking about me and my decisions and my feelings as much as I was. Ruby had shown me that, in a nice way. Maybe the thought should have scared me, or depressed me, and months earlier, it definitely would have. But I didn’t feel that now. I felt light. I felt free. Nobody cares! I thought, and it made me laugh.

  I awoke on December 7 to an anxious ache in my stomach. Though Jamie and Ruby both assured me that attendance would be good, we’d only been able to get verbal or social media confirmation from thirty-three people. (Thirty-three times twenty-two is seven hundred twenty-six, plus sixty-six if Ruby waives her share, making…seven hundred ninety-two dollars.) I rolled over in bed to find the article Davey had written, which was supposed to go up late last night or early this morning. I’d given up refreshing the page around one a.m. When it loaded, and I saw the headline—LOCAL COFFEE SHOP PROVIDES SAFE SPACE FOR SAN DIEGO’S QUEER YOUTH—I shimmied excitedly. I texted it to Jamie, who’d probably already read it five times through, and then skimmed it quickly for mention of my name.

  “Without Triple Moon, I don’t think I would’ve been brave enough to come out when I did. Dee and Gaby are like gay guardian angels,” says Quinn Ryan, a senior at Westville High School and organizer of tonight’s event.

  I smiled and searched next for Jamie.

  “The most important books I’ve ever read, the most meaningful discussions I’ve had, the most amazing person I know—all of that happened here,” says Jamie Rudawski, also a senior at Westville High School and Ryan’s co-organizer.

  First I only noticed that “Ryan’s co-organizer” part, which thrilled me even as—okay, maybe because—I knew how much Jamie would stew over it, because it made it sound like I was the one in charge. I planned a little consolatory speech: I would tell her it was just a matter of clarity, and I only came first because I’d said the coffee shop’s name. Her quote was better, more moving. Her quote was…wait. I reread it, then read it again. Was I that most amazing person? I had to be. Right? Unless it was Gaby. I knew they had a special connection. But that didn’t fit quite right. Had she said inspirational, maybe, but amazing sounded like someone she once loved. Or was it still loved? I stared at the present tense of I know, squinting as if I might find a clue in the space between the words.

  Just then Jamie texted me back, a string of nervous fragments.

  I saw!!!! It’s good

  When should we head over

  I want to help them clean and stuff

  Is 10 too early

  I laughed.

  Haha. I love you

  I bolted upright in bed. I’d sent the text reflexively, before I knew what I was typing, before I could think through its implications. I had to bury it with other texts before Jamie could wonder what kind of love I meant.

  Yes I think 10 am is too early

  How about 5?

  I just got up, I added pointlessly.

  I watched the bubble appear and disappear and reappear again. I knew she knew that that bubble meant as much as whatever she ended up sending. We’d talked about this. We’d argued about it once, and I’d accused her of puppeteering my emotions via text bubble. I didn’t remember if either of us apologized. I only remember that it became a joke, both of us typing gibberish into our phones to keep a bubble on the other’s screen for as long as possible before finally texting a one- or two-word good-night.

  5 works! she wrote.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Cool. See you then.

  * * *

  —

  The mood at Triple Moon when I got there was—how do I say this?—funereal. Instead of the usual riot grrrl soundtrack, Sarah McLachlan cooed over the speakers. Dee leaned against the back counter, staring into space, and Gaby sat at a table nearby, reading glasses on, hunched over a laptop. They both perked up when they saw me, but it was too late. My heart sank.

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful and instead sounding a little manic.

  “Hey, Q,” said Dee. “You’re here early.”

  “I’ll have you know, Jamie wanted to get here at ten. In the morning.”

  Dee snorted. “I’d have killed you both.”

  “I know.” I glanced at Gaby, but she was still absorbed in whatever was on her screen. When I looked at Dee again, she gave a sad sort of shrug. Morale was treacherously low. Sarah, goddess love her, wasn’t helping. I had to do something.

  “Can I?” I pointed to Dee’s phone. “It sounds like a commercial for dying animals in here.”

  “The ASPCA is very important to Sarah,” Dee said, handing it over.

  I scrolled until I found the set of playlists I’d shared with Dee in an attempt to modernize the coffee shop’s music selection, and tapped the one I’d called Screw Everybody. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ “Black Tongue” burst through the speakers, defiant and dirty. Dee bit her lip and raised rock hands above her head. She looked so dorky, and about a million years old, and I loved her for it. I pulled the extra Union-Tribune copy my mom had brought me out of my tote bag and opened it to the Triple Moon story.

  “Did you guys see the article?”

  Dee took the paper gently, mouthing the headline as she read, and Gaby got up and joined her behind the counter. “Oh, wow,” said Gaby.

  “You didn’t look it up online?”

  “I didn’t—did you, Dee?” said Gaby.

  “I forgot,” Dee murmured. I gave them a minute to read the story, drumming the counter to the beat while I waited. I was stunned to see that when Gaby finished, and looked up, she had tears in her eyes. Dee took a few moments longer, but she placed a hand on Gaby’s shoulder, somehow knowing she needed it. Please don’t cry, I thought. Gaby was bad enough, but if Dee cried, I feared I might never recover.

  Finally she looked
up, clearing her throat. “This is incredible, Q. Thank you. This means a lot to us.”

  I blushed. “I didn’t write it.”

  “But you made it happen,” said Gaby.

  I shook my head. “No, you did.” Dee was watching me but I couldn’t look at her. Mercifully, the door whooshed open, and we turned to see Jamie stop in her tracks just inside.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Come in here,” said Gaby. She and Dee looped their arms over each other’s shoulders and together they pulled us into a hug over the counter. Jamie’s hand burned hot against my back, and I pictured its pink print still there, hours from now.

  “They just read the story,” I explained.

  “Ah, got it,” said Jamie. She paused. “Have you guys ever heard of the internet?”

  * * *

  —

  The next hour flew by in a frenzied rush, Jamie and me inventing tasks just to complete them. I wiped down tables while Jamie neatened the bookshelf, stopping periodically to remove a novel from a shelf and reread a favorite passage. Jamie took out the trash while I swept the bathroom floor. When it finally seemed reasonable to begin decorating in earnest, we hung strings of red lights over the “stage,” taping them to the corners of the back wall and connecting the end to a bright orange extension cord Dee dug up from somewhere in the office. We put lumps of charcoal in disposable aluminum ashtrays on every table as centerpieces, and hung swaths of torn black gauze from every available surface. Finally, on the front door, we taped up the truly terrifying Krampus concert poster Alexis had drawn for us in Advanced 2-D Art. The effect was just right: spooky but not Halloween-y, thoughtful but not try-hard. Jamie and I took a step back to evaluate our efforts, and clinked our iced lattes together in self-congratulations. I pulled out my phone to check the time, and realized we still had an hour to kill.

  Later, I was removing old, out-of-date notices and ads from the community corkboard when I saw a neon-pink notice for something called QU33RZ for JUSTICE, signed by a name I thought I recognized. I called Jamie over to look.

  “Do we know this person? Jess?” I pointed.

  “Yeah! They’re a sophomore. Really good trumpet player,” said Jamie.

  “They’re starting an LGBTQ club at Westville,” I said, rereading and marveling over this information as Jamie leaned in closer to get a look.

  “Wow,” she said. “I can’t believe they put queer right in the name. That’s so cool.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. We exchanged a look, and I knew we were both thinking of our own little GSA, feeling overwhelmed by just how much had changed in two years.

  A little after seven, Ronni and Alexis showed up with a bag of sandwiches and chips, and we inhaled them standing over the counter, watching the door for early arrivals. When seven-fifteen rolled around and it was still just us, I was able to tamp down the nerves rising into my throat. At seven-thirty, a trio of freshman girls walked in, looked at us looking at them, and retreated into the parking lot to stare at their phones, pretending to wait for someone else they knew.

  “Sooo many people I’ve talked to are coming,” said Alexis, reading my mind. “Like. So many.”

  I glanced at Jamie, trying to read on her face whether one of those people might be Natalie. I got nothing.

  “Well, the show starts at eight,” I said. “It’s seven-thirty-six.”

  “Everybody knows eight means nine,” said Ronni.

  Jamie and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. “What?”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s insane,” I said.

  “If I’d meant nine, I’d have put nine!” Jamie shrieked.

  Ronni shrugged. “The band isn’t even here yet.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because they have to, like, be cool,” I said. “And Ruby said they’re on the way.”

  Alexis gave me a knowing smile, and I realized she hadn’t yet heard the news. For once, I wished Ronni had just passed my secrets on to Alexis.

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “We’re not together anymore.” I glanced at Jamie just in time to catch her looking at me.

  “Oh my God, are you okay? Did she say why?” Alexis rushed to me, a hand on my shoulder, furrowed brow inches from my face.

  I shook her off me. “Um, I ended it, thank you very much.”

  Another sidelong glance at Jamie. This time she didn’t look away. Alexis called me back. “But. Why?” she said.

  I thought about what to say. I could tell her something was missing. I could tell her that Ruby didn’t want to be in a serious relationship, and that I didn’t know how not to be serious. I could say it was practical, that high school would be over soon, and neither of us wanted to do long distance, though that was only sort of accurate, because there’d been a period of time in which I would have done anything to keep her. I could say Ruby and I never quite made it off the ground and I didn’t know why, but that wasn’t quite true either. I did know why. We didn’t love each other. As it happened, I loved someone else. I’d never really stopped.

  The air around me grew thick and charged. Maybe Ronni felt it too, and that’s why she changed the subject.

  “Look,” she said, pointing over my shoulder. I turned and saw a small horde of juniors parking and climbing out of their cars, the freshman trio slipping in just behind them.

  “Thank God,” I whispered.

  I felt my phone vibrate and pulled it from my back pocket: a text from Ruby.

  We’re here! Just parking

  “Um. Ruby’s here, so—”

  “Should we go help?” said Jamie.

  “You and me?” I asked dumbly.

  “Y-yeah?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “They’re parking out back. Make sure everyone pays,” I told Ronni and Alexis, and handed them the large plastic Cheez Balls bucket we’d converted for tonight’s event. Unlike the first show, for which Dee and Gaby had handled the money, we claimed treasurer duties this time around, wanting the amount we collected to be a surprise.

  “Yes, sir,” said Ronni, and we laughed to see Alexis, hugging the bucket close to her body, eyes gleaming with power.

  Jamie and I went out through the back entrance and found Mikey and Ben unloading equipment from the back of David’s van. Ruby stood behind them, supervising. When she saw us, she rushed over to give me a hug, and then Jamie.

  “Sorry we’re late,” she said. “Someone couldn’t find his ‘lucky pick.’ ” She rolled her eyes.

  “You’re fine.” Jamie’s voice, cheerful and reassuring, surprised me. “People are just starting to get here.”

  “Good,” said Ruby. “Or…bad?”

  My face must have conveyed my concern. “No, it’s good,” I said. “I’m just nervous.”

  “How do you think I feel?” Ruby gave me a playful shove. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could feel Jamie bristling beside me.

  “You’ll be great,” I said.

  Ruby grinned. “I know.”

  * * *

  —

  When we shuffled into the shop minutes later, all of us struggling under the weight of guitars and guitar stands and various pieces of electronic drum kit, Jamie and me bringing up the rear, we were not prepared for what we saw. My mouth fell open, and Jamie and I exchanged a look of wide-eyed excitement. The place was very nearly full, and by a quick mathematical estimate I deduced there were fifty-five people or more. We sped up, rushing to deposit Sweets’s equipment on the stage, and I yelled “Break a leg!” to Ruby. She waved her thanks, but she was already in rock-star mode, surveying her crowd of adoring fans. Jamie and I weaved our way through them back to Ronni, at our table by the counter.

  “What happened?” I marveled.

  “Where’s Alexis?” asked Jamie.

  Ronni held up her hand to calm us.

  “Alexis
is doing her job ruthlessly,” she said, pointing to the door. Alexis stood outside, half bouncer, half bodyguard. No one got past her without dropping cash in the bucket. “As for how it got this packed, I do not know. I swear I looked at my phone for two seconds, and when I looked up it was like this.”

  I held up my hand for Jamie to high-five, which I regretted as soon as her hand met mine. I felt hot and sick and alive with nerves. It was a horrible kind of ecstasy, being in love and not knowing what exactly was going to happen, or when, but certain something would. And there I was, feeling it again, for someone I’d already loved and lost.

  Ronni, perhaps sensing the vibe, or just as embarrassed by our awkward high five as I was, stood up. “I see Janelle and Kate,” she said. “I’m gonna go say hi.”

  With Ronni gone I was painfully aware of the precise distance between Jamie’s arm and mine, her leg and mine. The band was starting to warm up now, tuning their instruments while Ruby sang them notes off mic. I was desperate for them to get started and drown out my thoughts. Jamie, too, seemed to be scanning the room for anything to look at that wasn’t me, but that could have meant two very different things. I tried to make eye contact with Dee, but she was busy making lattes and espresso shots, and I noted the overstuffed tip jar with pride. I checked my phone, but everyone who ever texted me was here. Finally, there was nothing left I could think of to do but the thing I wanted to do most: talk to Jamie.

  “Do you think it’ll be enough?” I asked. We watched three more people stream through the door, and then another four. There had to be at least eighty people here, and surely at least a few more would show up late, after the show had begun.

  Jamie smiled at me sadly. “I don’t know. But I think we’ve raised more than they hoped for, and that has to count for something.”