Girl on the Verge
Page 4
Before I can figure out why she’s frowning, I notice a couple of the basketball guys staring at me.
Me. Not the new girl. Not Shelly.
What? I bring my hand to my mouth. No food stuck in my teeth, at least not that I can feel. I twist my body and look down my back. No toilet paper coming out of my pants, either. So why are they staring?
“Hey, Kan.” Brad Summers comes up behind me. “I was wondering. Would you like to go to prom with me?”
I blink. Didn’t he just ask Ash out on a date? Why is he asking me to prom? “Excuse me? Is this a joke?”
He flushes. “Of course not. I was just thinking I’d like to get to know you better.”
“He means he thinks you’re hot!” one of his friends calls out. The entire group of boys cracks up.
“Let’s just say, his eyes have been opened to your natural beauty.” Walt smirks. He puts a hand by his head and the other on his waist, elbows out, pinup style. “Can you pose like this? Show the rest of us what good old Brad sees?”
The blood drains from my face, taking all the warmth out of my body. My hands, my neck, my cheeks—everything is ice cold. What is he talking about?
“Or how about this?” Walt bends forward, placing his hands on his knees and bunching his chest. “Squeeze those titties together.”
Brad’s retreating now, shooting death glares at Walt. “Shut up, dude. Just shut up.”
Someone makes a grab for the magazine they were studying, and it flies onto the floor in between the sections of bleachers.
We all stare at the magazine for a moment, and then Shelly runs over and picks it up. Returning, she shows me the centerfold. Oh dear god. Scantily clad models with long black hair and slanted eyes pose provocatively.
This must be the Asian edition. The fantasy of a certain segment of the population. And one of the reasons I hate the word exotic.
“You know, Kan, in all the years I’ve known you, I never thought of you as sexy.” Walt strides forward, his pecs all puffed out. “But I’ve changed my mind; I think I like exotic women. But prom’s too big of a commitment. How about Friday night, in Stevie’s basement? There’s an old couch there that would suit someone like you.”
I’m rooted to the spot, my mind a frigid cage. I don’t think I could move if my fashion career depended on it. Someone like me? Walt chose those words deliberately. He wants to make clear that, unlike Brad, he’s not actually interested in me. He wants this date for one reason alone.
“You’re a pig!” Lanie spits out. “Get the hell out of here before I throw up on you.”
Shelly moves into the aisle and stands in front of Walt.
He sneers. “You’re in my way, freak. Move.”
“With pleasure,” she says. Before I can blink, she whirls in the air, kicking out her leg. Her foot connects with Walt right in the jaw, and he collapses in a heap in the middle of the bleachers. Someone screams—Izzy, no doubt, with her nails-on-a-chalkboard screech—and everyone stares at Shelly, openmouthed.
She snatches up the magazine and chucks it into a trash can at the end of the bleachers. She’s never met any of these boys in her life, but she looks them each in the eyes, even Walt. Especially Walt, who is clutching his cheek and moaning like a little boy.
“That’s what happens to assholes who disrespect my friend,” Shelly says. Tossing her head, she strides down the aisle. “Come on, Kan, let’s go.” I scurry after her.
Chapter 6
“I still can’t believe you did that!” I say. It’s been three hours since the takedown, and we’re sitting in a quiet corner of the cafeteria, eating identical lunches of rice and roast red pork that Khun Yai left on the counter for us. “That was the most kick-ass thing I’ve ever seen.”
Shelly pushes her rice around like it’s nothing, but a pink glow tinges her cheeks, right across the scar. “I’ve been taking tae kwon do since I was a kid. You know how people say swimming is the most important skill you can learn? Well, my mom said that was bullshit. She never had the best advice for me, but for once, I thought she was right. You can stay away from the water, but you never know when a thug might jump you in the middle of the street.”
“Or when a jerk might need taking down at a new school.”
The pink deepens to a red flush. “You think Walt’s okay?”
“The nurse said he was fine.” I wave a stalk of green onion in the air. Dipped in vinegar, it’s a perfect accompaniment to the roast pork. “He probably just went home because he’s a big baby.”
“At least I’m not in trouble.”
Nobody is. Not Shelly, not me, not the boys. A teacher came running after she heard the commotion, but no one would confess to anything. The boys, probably because they felt complicit, even if Walt acted independently. My friends, mostly because they didn’t want Shelly punished.
“I wanted to show the teachers the magazine,” Lanie whispered to me in math class. “But when I went to fish it out of the trash can, it was already gone. Did not want to get into a ‘he said, she said’ with Walt. He’d blame it all on Shelly, for sure. What do you think? Should I say something?”
I wasn’t sure. My head was still spinning. I didn’t want Shelly in trouble, either, so I just told Lanie to leave it alone.
Now, I glance at the table in the exact center of the cafeteria. My usual table, with Ash, Lanie, Izzy, and the others. I wanted to sit there, too, but Shelly said she couldn’t deal with small talk after what happened that morning. Which was fair. So, instead, we chose a table in the corner. It was the least I could do.
Still, my eyes keep drifting to the center table throughout our lunch.
“Is Ash your friend?” Shelly asks, following my gaze.
“Yes. She’s my best friend.” I shove a spoonful of rice in my mouth. “Ever since we were in kindergarten and she wrote my name over and over on a piece of paper because she liked the way it sounded. You’ll love her.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows climb up her forehead. “She didn’t say a single thing to Walt this morning.”
“She didn’t?” I think back to the scene in the bleachers, but everything was so chaotic, I can’t picture what Ash was—or wasn’t—doing. “Maybe she didn’t have a chance.”
“Oh, she had a chance, all right,” Shelly says knowingly. “It’s easy to be friends when everything is smooth. But when life gets a little bumpy, you find out who your true friends are. And Ash didn’t stand up for you when you needed her.”
“Ash isn’t like that,” I protest. “She’s always the first to come to my defense.”
“The fact of the matter is, Kan, you’re sitting here, and she’s sitting over there. And she hasn’t once glanced in your direction.”
But you made us sit over here, I want to say. But I don’t because Shelly has a point. Even if we aren’t eating lunch with them, shouldn’t Ash come over to say hi? Shouldn’t she catch my eye to give me an encouraging smile? I know I would, even if Ash were having lunch on top of the flagpole.
“She’s jealous of you,” Shelly continues. “I’ve only met her this morning, and I can already tell her type. She’s used to being the center of attention, the prettiest and most popular girl around. Didn’t you say this Brad guy had asked her out? Now that he’s interested in you, she can’t stand it.”
I stare at Shelly. I don’t know what to say. I don’t think she’s right. But maybe . . . maybe she’s more perceptive than I want to admit. Maybe she sees things as an outsider that I don’t notice because of my long years of friendship.
Before I can respond, a junior girl approaches us. “Why did I have to pick today of all days to sleep in?” she moans. “Walt Peterson, kicked in the jaw. That’s about the coolest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Shortly after her departure, a guy stops by to invite Shelly to run for the student council. “We could use someone like you,” he says.
Then, another girl strolls by, giving Shelly a high five.
Shelly keeps shaking her head, a
dazed look in her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she whispers to me in between the admirers. “This doesn’t happen to me. No one ever pays attention to me.”
“Better get used to it. We’re so bored of one another, you’ll get attention just by being the new girl. But a new girl who puts bully Walt Peterson in his place?” I smile gleefully. “You won’t forget me when you’re the most popular girl in school, will you?”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “Don’t say that. I would never forget you. I’d rather have one real friendship than ten shallow ones. No matter how popular it makes me.”
I drop my teasing tone and squeeze her arm. “I feel the same way, Shelly.” I glance at the center table once more. As always, Izzy and Lanie are shrieking over something that Ash has said. And they still haven’t looked in my direction once. “I feel the exact same way.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, I’m in the girls’ restroom, bunching my now-straight hair into a ponytail, eliminating one more way that I look like the centerfold models, when Ash bursts into the room.
“Oh,” my closest friend says, looking like she wants to flee. She takes a step back. From me.
I swallow hard. So it wasn’t my imagination. Ash was deliberately avoiding me in the cafeteria.
We’re not as tight as we used to be back in elementary school, when we practically lived at each other’s houses. But she was still the first person I called when I got the job at Miss Patsy’s. She’s the only person in whose arms I’ve wept on the anniversary of my father’s death.
And now, she won’t meet my eyes. She doesn’t ask why I didn’t sit with them in the cafeteria. She doesn’t give me a hug and ask how I’m doing after this morning’s events.
Instead, she runs her fingers over her sparkly necklace and crosses her tight-jeaned, brown-booted legs, as though she’s posing for a magazine. Maybe even the one the guys were perusing this morning. Except not—because she’s not Asian. Can’t forget that.
I check my watch. Our next class starts in five minutes. “Well?” I say, when it becomes clear she isn’t going to break the silence. “Did you want to say something to me?”
“Why didn’t you say no when Brad asked you to prom?” she asks finally, her voice small. “You know he asked me on a date a few days ago. I told him I’d think about it, and I was going to give him my answer today.”
I blink. And then blink again. “He wasn’t exactly my main concern at that moment. Walt and his disgusting antics were.”
“Walt is gross. Everybody knows that.” She pushes her hair back impatiently. “You don’t understand, Kan. I told all the girls that Brad likes me. What are they going to think now that he’s invited you to prom?”
“They’re not going to think anything.” I put my hand on her arm. “Are you . . . interested in him? Is that what this is about?”
Her shoulders droop. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just that things at home have been so hard lately. Brad was the one bright spot of my day. And now, you’ve ruined everything.”
I reel backward, my sneakers scuffing the floor. I ruined everything? I know Ash is having a tough time with her parents. I know her reputation’s always been important to her. But how can she possibly say that? “Excuse me. Are you actually blaming me for what happened?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She crosses to the sink and turns on the faucet. The water spurts into the sink, but she makes no move to touch it. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that the whole school’s talking about the incident. And they’re all talking about how Brad prefers you over me.”
“That’s not my fault,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry it turned out that way, but I can’t apologize for it.”
“I just wish you had shut it down sooner.”
I don’t say anything. Neither does she. All we can hear is the gurgle of the water as it flows down the drain. The years of our friendship flit in the air between us. The laugh-until-our-stomachs-hurt conversations, the talk-until-our-batteries-die phone calls. She texted me 756 times the week Charlie Rosen broke up with her last spring. I know because Khun Yai marched into my room, waving the phone bill and asking when I found the time to study.
My mind drifts to the summer I wiped out on my bicycle. The skin at my knee had been scraped away so completely that I could see a glistening white bone. I took one look at the bone and almost fainted.
“Look at me.” Ash had gripped my hands. “You’re going to be okay, but I have to go get help. Don’t freak out, okay? Just lie here and look at the sky. I’ll come back. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Okay?”
I was so scared I couldn’t talk, but I nodded, and she raced away, her feet kicking up the gravel. Even though the temptation was great, even though I wanted to look down at the bone, I kept my eyes on the blue, blue sky. I gave my pain to the clouds, the way they did in stories, and before I knew it, Ash was back. An ambulance roared up the street a few minutes later, and they took me to the ER and patched me up.
I was laid up the rest of the summer. All the other kids hung out at the pool, but not Ash. She stayed by my side, painting her nails, reading books, playing solitaire. I knew then that I was right to trust her.
The entire memory flashes through my mind, and I turn back to my best friend, ready to make amends. I don’t care if it’s not my fault. I just want to reach out and hug her. She’s hurting, and I’m hurting, and we should just look past our misunderstanding and hurt together. Because that’s what friends do.
But even as I’m lifting my arms, she reaches out and turns off the water. The silence accentuates the air, as if setting the stage for what’s to come.
“I’ve got to tell you, Kan, there’s something weird about your new friend,” she says. “Something not quite right. It’s her first day of school, and already, she’s leading you into bad situations. Walt deserved it, don’t get me wrong. But kicking him in the face? That’s freaking assault. We would’ve been better off telling the teachers what he was saying.”
I stiffen. Shelly’s words float through my mind, and all of a sudden, I can remember the scene from that morning clearly. Lanie had her hands on her hips, pissed as hell, and Brad was slinking backward from the group, trying to blend in with the bleachers. And Ash . . . Ash was just standing there. Her hands hanging limply at her sides. Not saying anything. Not doing anything. Just like Shelly said. “At least she stood up for me,” I whisper. “You did nothing. When life gets bumpy, you find out who your true friends are.”
Her eyes flash. “Are you saying I’m not a true friend?”
The bell shrills. We look at each other for a long moment, and then she spins on her heel and stalks out of the restroom.
The door bangs. And I wonder if our friendship will ever be the same again.
Chapter 7
Later that day, I drop Shelly off at the superstore, so that she can shop for new clothes, and stop by my house to freshen up before heading to Miss Patsy’s. Khun Yai is in the kitchen, making sticky rice, when I emerge from the bathroom.
“She has no idea what she’s doing,” she mutters to herself in Thai as she pours rice into a glass tray and covers it with a couple inches of tepid water. “This is not going to end well. I could throttle her for putting us through this.”
“Throttling, Khun Yai? Isn’t that a little violent for a Friday afternoon?” I grab a diet soda from the fridge. “Who’s got you so upset?”
The tray jerks in her hand, and water sloshes over the edge. Recovering quickly, Khun Yai wipes up the spill and lifts her cheek to me. I give her a kiss, which is how I always greet her.
“Your mother, that’s who. She thinks she’s making things right, fixing the sins of our past, when really, she’s just making the situation worse.”
“What sins?” I take a drink from the soda. “Are you talking about your disagreement?”
“Never mind, luk lak.” She pats my hand. “This is between your mother and me. Where’s the farang?”
She purses her lips. “I’ll do it, but I’m not happy about it.”
I put the soda down. “Is this because she’s white? Please, Khun Yai, don’t be like this. She’s a nice girl.” I pause. I want, more than anything, to tell her about the nudie magazine. Surely, she’d have some good advice for me. At the very least, she could give me a hug and tell me she loves me. Maybe it’s juvenile to still need such affirmation, but I do.
But if I tell her about the magazine, she’ll just be even more adamant that I not spend any time with these farang boys. “Shelly’s been a good friend to me already, and she needs us. Even if she’s white.”
She sighs. “It’s not her race. Believe me, luk lak, this goes much deeper than you understand.”
“Well, then, explain it to me.”
“I can’t.” She lifts her shoulders helplessly, but she doesn’t fool me. Khun Yai hasn’t been helpless a day of her life. If she’s pretending now, that means she’s hiding something.
“You can’t? Or you won’t?”
Instead of answering, she covers the tray and sets it aside to soak for a few hours. She begins to hum an old Thai song about a farmer and his crush on a girl from the salt fields. I should know the tune; I performed it at Khun Yai’s seventy-fifth birthday last year in Thailand. Our entire extended family attended—over a hundred people—and I was so nervous my knees literally knocked together. I didn’t know knees actually did that. I thought it was just an expression. But I got through the song, and my relatives walked away so impressed with the Thai pronunciation of the farang granddaughter that they didn’t even think to criticize my singing ability—or lack thereof.
But Khun Yai isn’t reliving fond memories now. She’s telling me, in no uncertain terms, that our conversation is over. And so, I leave the house, my mind spinning with questions.
What does Khun Yai have against Shelly? And how could it possibly relate to the sins of my mother’s past?