Me, Just Different

by Stephanie Morrill

  “Hello?” I clicked my plastic shoes together. “Light blue dress? Glass slippers? I’m Cinderella.”

  “Are those really glass? I mean, I know your dad is crazy rich, but . . .”

  “I found them at the Disney Store. They’re killing my feet. I can’t imagine what actual glass slippers would feel like.”

  “Fortunately, I can’t sympathize.” Connor wiggled a sneakered foot at me. “I’m so comfortable it’s like I’m not even at a dance.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You look like you’re headed to the gym.”

  “Weren’t you about to yell at me for something?” he asked, popping open a Dr Pepper.

  “Yes, why would you—” He handed the soda to me. “Oh, thank you. Why would you break up with Jodi right before a dance?”

  Connor blinked at me several times, the way he did when trying to untangle the meaning of my words. “It honestly didn’t cross my mind.”

  “It’s common courtesy.”

  “If I waited until after, it would have been too close to something else.” He shrugged, as if to suggest he didn’t control the timing of these things. “There’s really no convenient time to break up with someone.”

  “But do you realize what I’ve gone through tonight?” I stole a pretzel from his stash. “Just getting her in the car took fifteen minutes.”

  Connor smiled. “I should’ve guessed—this is about you.”

  I grinned back. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “I’m used to it, actually. It just helps me to know that, while it’s about Jodi, this conversation isn’t really about Jodi.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Jodi barged into the conversation.

  “There you are.” She grabbed my arm as if everything was still hunky-dory between us. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you see who I was just dancing with?”

  “No, I didn’t.” I transferred my Dr Pepper to the other hand so she didn’t spill it with all her jostling.

  She smiled at Connor. “Oh, hi.” As if she just noticed him. As if he wasn’t the real reason she burst in here.

  Connor failed to hide his amused smile. “Hey, Jodi.”

  “Nice pants.” Then she pulled me toward the door. “Eli’s looking for you.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Connor and mouthed “Sorry.” He winked and turned his attention to a cookie platter.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jodi hissed as she yanked me down the hall to some unknown destination. “You knew I didn’t want to come tonight because of Connor, and then I find you yakking the night away with him.”

  “We weren’t yakking,” I said. “And could you ease up on my arm? You’re giving me a bruise.” She relaxed her grip enough for me to pull away. “I was actually getting onto Connor for dumping you like he did.”

  Jodi cast me a suspicious eye. “You were?”

  “Of course.” She kept looking at me like I’d done something wrong, so I added, “What on earth would he and I have to talk about outside of you?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “What’s wrong with me these days? I never should’ve doubted you.” She looped her arm through mine. “Stupid Eli, making me all paranoid.”

  My stomach tightened the way it often did when his name arose between us. “What did Eli say?”

  “Oh, we were talking the other night about you and Connor, how often you guys seem to be thrown together.” She followed this with another shake of her head, as if to convey what a not-big deal it was. “He said something about how you would probably side with Connor over the breakup, since—”

  “I didn’t know you two even talked.” I couldn’t process anything beyond her first few words.

  “Of course we talk. I see him every day.”

  “What I meant is, I didn’t know you guys talked at night. One-on-one. About Connor and me.”

  She looked confused. “Eli and I are good friends, Skylar. You know that.”

  Did I?

  But before I could ask anything else, she squeezed my arm. “C’mon. I just met this really cute junior.”

  And though we left the hallway, I didn’t leave my questions.

  “Would you say you and Jodi are good friends?” I asked as Eli held me close for a slow dance.

  He pulled back to look at me. “What’d you say?”

  “You and Jodi. Would you say you’re good friends?”

  He laughed, but it seemed forced. “Skylar, I know you don’t have any experience with this, but it’s a turnoff to have your ex brought up at a time like this.”

  “I’m curious. Do you and Jodi talk much?”

  “You’re very cute when you’re jealous.” He kissed my forehead. “You know you don’t need to be.”

  “I’m not jealous, I’m curious. She said you guys are ‘good friends,’ but I’ve never gotten that impression from you, so I’m wondering”—I sucked in a breath and met his eyes— “how good of friends are you?”

  He studied my face for a moment. “What’s wrong with me being good friends with Jodi? You’re friends with Connor. Isn’t it the same thing?”

  “He’s not my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Is that what this is about? I don’t even think of Jodi being my ex-girlfriend. She’s just Jodi.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Except you just told me it was a turnoff having her—your ex—brought up while we’re dancing.”

  “What I meant is, it’s a turnoff talking about anyone when we’re dancing. I just want it to be you and me.” He brushed wisps of bangs from my face. “And it shouldn’t matter if I’m friends with Jodi, because you know I love you.”

  Then he swallowed as he awaited my response.

  I understood the delicacies of this moment, that there were expectations, but I couldn’t make myself answer. I just stood there like a moron and stared at him.

  Finally, Eli pulled me against him where he couldn’t see me speechless.

  “Teri?” Dad called.

  “No, it’s Skylar.” I left my Cinderella shoes in the entry and followed Dad’s voice to the kitchen. He sat at the counter with a pile of receipts, the checkbook, and a glass of red wine. “Bills on a Saturday night?”

  He glanced at me over the top of his glasses. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  I took the stool next to him. My eyes caught on a party rentals invoice. $5,092.73. Yowzer. “Who’s having a party?”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “You.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  A long silence ensued. I picked at my nail polish, unsure of how to gracefully leave. As I opened my mouth to fake yawn and claim exhaustion, Dad asked, “Did you have a good time at the dance?”

  “Yeah,” I lied. My feet swung slightly, bumping against the counter.

  “Please don’t do that.”

  I stopped. Instinctively, my feet searched for one of the stool’s horizontal bars, but they groped in vain. These were new. Mom threw out the others last week. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Out with some friends.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “I think the Melting Pot. Or maybe that was last week. I don’t know.”

  “Oh.”

  Another silence. I asked the only thing I could ever think to ask my father. “How’s work?”

  “Oh, stressful. Nothing new.” He shrugged, as if work, this thing that sucked up all his time, was unimportant.

  “Did you win the jazz district renovation?”

  Dad looked up from the register and blinked at me for a few seconds. “How did you know about that?”

  “You mentioned it at dinner a couple nights ago.”

  “Oh.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “Yes, we did.”

  I smiled. “That’s great.”

  “It is.” He nodded, as if approving of me. “Thank you, Skylar.”

  It seemed like a good time to leave, with both of us feeling good about the conversation, but before I made my excuses, Dad’s face turned serious. “I’m worried about your si
ster.”

  I traced the swirling pattern of Mom’s granite countertop. “What about her?”

  “Why wasn’t she at the dance tonight? That doesn’t seem like Abbie.”

  “I don’t know.” Could he tell I’d broken out in a sweat? “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “I did. She told me she didn’t feel well and went to bed around eight.”

  I shrugged. “There you go.”

  Dad shook his head. “But it doesn’t make sense. I can’t remember Abbie ever having plans to go.”

  “Well, you’ve been working a lot.” Annoyance seeped into my voice. With all the hours he worked, did he really expect he wouldn’t miss things at home?

  Dad noted my tone and bent over the register. “I need to get back to this.”

  “Fine.” I hopped down from my stool. “Good night, Dad.”

  He held a receipt up to the light, studying it. “Good night.”

  I trudged upstairs, sticky and sore from the dance. What a lousy night. How come supposedly fun activities—parties, dances—didn’t feel fun anymore? I should’ve faked sick and stayed home too.

  But as I cleaned up for bed, it occurred to me that maybe Abbie hadn’t faked. Maybe she really didn’t feel good.

  “Abbie?” I whispered, followed by a gentle rap on the pocket door. “You okay?”

  Silence.

  I hesitated, not wanting to wake her. I pushed open the door a crack. “Abbie?”

  Still nothing. Not even breathing.

  I slid the door open until the band of light finally hit her bed, revealing she wasn’t in it.

  11

  A little after 1:30, I heard Abbie sneak up the stairs. She tiptoed into her bedroom, closed the door with a soft click, and exhaled with relief.

  “Nice to see you,” I said.

  Abbie faced me, a hand over her heart. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “So you’re not sneaking into the house at”—I glanced at her alarm clock—“1:43?”

  “I am, but I wasn’t doing anything bad.”

  I stood from her bed. “I’ve been lying here worrying about you for the last couple hours. Why didn’t you take your cell phone?”

  “I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Abbie chewed on her lip for a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Where were you? I didn’t see you at the dance.”

  “I didn’t go. I really didn’t plan to leave the house tonight, but then . . .”

  “Then what?”

  “Chris—”

  “Abbie.” I rubbed my dry eyes. “Now is really not the time for someone like Chris.”

  “I can’t help it. And we weren’t doing anything bad. Well, other than sneaking out, I guess. We just went to the park and sat and talked.” She followed me through the bathroom and into my room. “I know I probably shouldn’t have, but he’s just so great, and—”

  I turned and faced her. “Have you told him?”

  She averted her eyes. “No.”

  “Is that really fair? Making him think this is leading somewhere it can’t?”

  “But why can’t it?” Abbie nearly whimpered.

  “Abbie, you’re pregnant.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Yes, Chris likes you a lot, but no fifteen-year-old guy is going to stick it out with you when he finds out you’re pregnant from your last relationship.”

  Abbie looked to the floor, deflated. Her silence lasted so long I nearly asked her to leave.

  “If any guy would support me,” she whispered, “I think it would be him.”

  Then she turned and left, sliding the door shut before I had a chance to agree.

  “You weren’t at church this morning,” Connor said when I answered my phone.

  “No, I wasn’t.” I snapped off the light of my new sewing machine. This sewing thing had taken a couple weeks, but I was finally getting the hang of it. “Late night around here.”

  “Oh, right. Jodi’s.”

  “Jodi’s?”

  “Didn’t you all get together at Jodi’s?”

  I snipped a thread. “No.”

  “I thought I overheard Alexis and Jodi talking about some kind of after party.”

  “You must have heard wrong.” But somehow, I knew he hadn’t. I had a strange sensation deep inside my chest, an itchiness. Was that how it felt when you suspected being left out?

  “Anyway,” Connor continued, as if my group of friends ousting me was trivial, “I just heard on the radio that this is supposedly one of our last warm days of the year. Chris and I are hitting Sheridan’s. You and Abbie wanna come?”

  I hesitated. “I think Abbie might have homework.”

  “Just check with her,” Connor said. “We don’t have to be gone long.”

  What else could I do? I had to ask and hope that what I’d said the night before would make Abbie proceed with caution for once in her life.

  Instead, she said, “Sounds good,” and rolled off her bed, where she’d been scribbling in a notebook.

  “Really?” I gave her a look. “You don’t have homework or anything?”

  Her eyes remained locked to mine. “I have it under control.”

  I exhaled nice and slow to leave her doubtless of my disapproval, then said to Connor, “We’ll both go.”

  “Great,” Connor said. “You don’t need to run this by your mom or anything? I know I have that scary Y chromosome.”

  “You have what?” I asked, distracted by Abbie rifling through her closet for something different to wear.

  “A Y chromosome. As opposed to an X. Meaning that I’m a boy.” He sighed at my silence. “It was a joke, Skylar.”

  “Well, Mom won’t care. For some reason she’s taken to you and Chris, X chromosomes or not.”

  “No, I have a Y chromosome. Girls have—” Connor stopped. “Never mind. I’ll pick you up in a couple minutes.”

  Now off the phone, I stood in Abbie’s room and watched her pull several skirts from her closet.

  “Stop it.” She didn’t even turn around. “This is none of your business.”

  “Fine,” I muttered as I left.

  In the car, I hardly heard a word Connor spoke. Abbie and Chris’s conversation distracted me—light, easy banter with a hint of flirtation.

  Connor waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Yes.” I punched the word. “You were talking about Mr. Huntley.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That was five minutes ago. What’s wrong with you today? You seem off.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. Honestly.”

  “Sure you are. That’s why you haven’t noticed we’re not in my mom’s minivan.”

  I looked at my surroundings, all gray leather and spotless carpet. And there was a distinct smell, same as Eli’s Land Rover the morning after Jodi’s party. “Did you get a new car?”

  “Wow. Tell me you plan to pursue a career as a PI.”

  I slugged him in the arm. “When did you get this? What is it?”

  “A Chevy Tahoe. We picked it up yesterday.”

  “It’s great. Very . . .” I swept my gaze across the console, full of lights and buttons and switches. “Very macho.”

  “And therefore perfect for me, right?” Connor flexed one of his skinny arms. “Now you don’t always have to take us to school. We can take you too.”

  I forgot to respond because in the seat behind me, Abbie giggled at something Chris said.

  “Skylar?” Connor said. “Seriously. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Problems with Eli? I notice your phone hasn’t rung in the last ten minutes. That can’t be a good sign.”

  I forced a laugh, remembering the hurt in Eli’s eyes last night when I didn’t say the expected, “I love you too.” What would happen now? Could a relationship survive when one person said, “I love you,” and the
other stood there wishing he hadn’t?

  “Well, this should be a fun outing,” Connor said as he turned into Sheridan’s lot. “I can’t get a word out of you.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be better, I promise.”

  Later, as we settled onto the grass between Sheridan’s and the road, Connor asked, “Is it Eli stuff or other stuff that’s bothering you?”

  “It’s all kinds of things.” I glanced at Abbie and Chris. They opted for a bench near the parking lot because Abbie didn’t want to sit on the grass in her skirt.

  “Like what?”

  I made myself turn away from his brother and my sister. “Was Eli at church this morning?”

  Connor blinked a few times before answering, appearing confused by my answering his question with a question of my own. “I saw his parents but not him. Why?”

  “Just curious.” I stabbed at my custard a couple times. It shouldn’t bother me. I’d been MIA as well. “He hasn’t been there the last couple Sundays, but that’s okay, right?”

  Connor’s forehead creased. “Why are you asking me?”

  “You’ve been doing this a lot longer than me. I just wondered about your opinion.”

  “I’ve been doing what longer than you?”

  “Church. Well, not church, because I’ve done that most my life. But religion. You have more experience.”

  Connor relaxed on his elbows and studied me. “What do you mean by religion?” He almost sounded offended.

  “Like doing what they say to do in church. No swearing, no drinking. That kind of stuff.”

  “You don’t drink.”

  “Yeah, well.” I chuckled. “That hasn’t always been the case.”

  “Funny you should mention that.” Connor paused and stirred his hot fudge sundae.

  “Mention what? Drinking?”

  He met my gaze. When the sun hit his face like that, his eyes looked green. “Jodi told me you were a real wild girl, but all of a sudden you stopped wanting to have fun.” He smiled. “Well, those were her words. I assume what she means is you pass on Jell-O shots.”

  “That’s pretty accurate.” I took a big bite of my ice cream, making it clear I had no plans of expanding my statement.

  “Fine. I’ll just ask.” He leaned toward me. “What made you go from a wild girl to worrying about if your boyfriend was at church?”