Pretty in Punxsutawney

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  If this event is even half as successful as I envision it being, this school is never going to be the same.

  I accept my morning ride with Colton when he arrives, but make it clear I think of us as just buddies now. Our tour of the school seems more relaxed than ever, despite the loud whirring inside my head as I try to fill in the remaining pieces of my plan.

  When he and I reach the cheerleaders, I impress them with a few moves despite my more restrictive clothing.

  Once I’ve won them over, I grab Tammy by the hand, saying, “I wish I could learn how to tweeze my eyebrows into an arch like yours.”

  Which I know sounds like a bizarre comment, but I happen to know Tammy carries tweezers in her purse and is famous for pulling them out to expertly shape the eyebrows of anyone brave enough to ask.

  The two of us head to the bathroom together, where she gives me what I must confess are the most awesome-looking eyebrows to ever grace my face. She even uses cold water compresses to help reduce the redness.

  I’m careful to time things perfectly, so as we leave the girls’ room she runs directly into Czyre in the middle of the hallway. Right in the same spot he and I always used to collide.

  Except Tammy walks with more purpose than I do, and so the two of them knock into each other much too hard. Tammy staggers back, and I can see an angry bump already forming where his chin hit her forehead.

  I feel terrible, but I catch Tammy before she falls and think fast in hopes of finding a way to redeem this. Czyre is bent over, picking up his Sharpie, and I ask, “Didn’t I see you drawing a cartoon on the side of one of the bleachers?”

  Tammy reacts as I hoped, dropping her hand from the growing red lump on her forehead and staring at Czyre.

  He stops testing if his jaw is broken, and his eyes go wide as he stares at me.

  Thankfully, Tammy grabs Czyre by the arm and steals his attention. “Did you really draw that cartoon?” she asks. “The one with the stressed-out toddlers? Wait? Are you the vandal artist who’s been doing all the drawings?”

  Czyre looks back and forth between Tammy and me as he opens and closes his mouth. He has always protected his identity so carefully that I’ve completely blindsided him. “Who are you?” he asks me.

  Tammy practically shrieks, “Those drawings are amazing!”

  Looking around, Czyre holds a finger to his lips before he breaks into a slow smirk. “They’re also illegally posted,” he whispers. The two of them look at each other for four full beats before he finally asks, “You want to see my latest one?”

  As Czyre leads Tammy toward the dark open mouth of the stairwell, she gets a sudden look of fear in her eyes.

  Catching up to them, I hook my elbow around hers. “Lead the way,” I say.

  Czyre glares at me like I’m third-wheeling it hard, but I can see that he needs my help. Tammy must’ve watched too many horror movies or is maybe a bit weirded out by guys who wear eyeliner. Either way, she needs my presence because she’s about to bail.

  When we reach the point where we have to duck our heads beneath the undersides of the steps, Tammy says, “I’ve never really been inside here.” Her voice sounds timid and makes it clear that it isn’t the movie tropes or the eyeliner that are bothering Tammy. It’s the goths.

  “This is a first,” Bridget says. “Welcome to our lair.”

  From the back corner, I can hear a quietly mocking, “Ready? Okay!”

  “Funny,” Tammy says without laughing.

  I want to scold the whole group. Can’t they see that she’s being very brave right now and that Czyre and Tammy are meant to be together forever and that everyone here is ruining things for them?

  “Come on, guys,” Bridget says. “Be nice.” There’s my girl.

  Tammy must’ve just spotted the drawing Czyre did of her, because she moves slowly toward that wall.

  When she reaches it, she raises two fingertips to touch the sneakered feet of the cheerleader calling out, “Care!” Tammy’s head turns toward the crowd calling back, “We can’t,” and she moves her fingertips from the wall to her lips.

  She stares at the cartoon.

  “Tammy,” Czyre says, “I hope you don’t—”

  “This is . . . me.” Tammy turns toward Czyre, and the two of them stand, looking at each other. “You’ve captured my struggle. Caring is hard enough. Sometimes it feels like nothing matters. And then trying to get others to care is . . .” Her voice breaks and her eyes well up in the dim light.

  “I know,” Czyre says, and finally the rest of the gang under the stairwell can see what I already knew.

  That these two were clearly meant to be together. Tammy hooks her hair behind one ear and looks up at Czyre in a way that says the Goth vs. Cheerleader wall has just crumbled down a bit in one spot. She’s seeing him.

  “Well, I’m going to get a little air,” I announce, and it’s as if I’ve just stuck a pin into the balloon of awkward that’s been expanding inside the small space. The rest of us move from underneath the stairs in one big whoosh.

  Of course, Czyre and Tammy stay behind, which was kind of the point.

  Czyre now owes me. I smile as I glide a more neutral rose shade over my lips. I’m happy that they finally connected, but it’s time to move on to phase two of my plan.

  When I find Anna and Petra standing in front of their lockers, I falter a moment. It’s not as if I can just waltz up to them and start talking. And how do I even bring up the topic of their rock band when I should have no way of knowing about it?

  Before a solution fully forms in my brain, Anna closes the locker they’re standing in front of and I need to act.

  Snapping my cell phone up to my ear, I open my mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no!” I say loud enough that the girls can obviously hear me. “What are we going to do?”

  Anna looks annoyed. Maybe because I’ve nearly bumped into her in my attempt to make sure I have her attention. She says, “There’s this thing? It’s called personal space . . .”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, gesturing to my phone as I put it away.

  “Did you just hang up on someone?” Petra asks.

  “They’ll understand.” I wave my hand awkwardly and make a mental note to become better at acting. “I’m just really in a jam. I don’t suppose either of you knows of a band that might be free to play a gig tonight?”

  Petra looks excited, but bites down on both her lips as if forcing herself to keep quiet, while Anna crosses her arms. Clearly, they don’t trust me.

  “I need everything but a bass player,” I say. “I’m really good on bass.” I mime a few riffs as I will the two of them to go for the bait. It takes me naming a few songs that I know they play for Anna to finally uncross her arms and ask for more details.

  As soon as she hears there will be jealous hordes of classmates present, she’s in. I lean forward to give them the details, marveling at how well things are going already.

  Which is when I see Tammy striding past with her nose in the air. Alone. I quickly pretend to gather the contact information that I already have from Anna and Petra, and run after Tammy.

  “What happened?” I ask when I catch up to her. “I thought you and Czyre were really hitting it off.”

  She turns to face me. “I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was again?”

  “Andie?” I say softly. “It’s my first day.”

  “Hi, Andie. I’m not really sure how you knew Czyre was the cartoon artist, or what else you think you know about me, but really, you need to back off.”

  “What happened? Did he try to kiss you or something?” I’m still traumatized by my own kiss/kick experience with Colton, but I can’t imagine Czyre acting inappropriate.

  “No,” Tammy says, confused. “Things went fine. I just barely know him.”

  “But he drew your cartoon,” I say lamely.

  “Okaaay . . .” The way Tammy draws out the word, I know I’ve totally lost her. “See you around, Andie.”

  With
out getting Czyre to draw up the flyers for me, I’m cooked, and Tammy was a big part of that plan. Looking around the hallway, I suddenly get an idea.

  “Girls? Can we talk about flyers?” I wave my hands toward Anna and Petra.

  If Czyre and Tammy won’t help me, I need new recruits.

  “That’s final bell,” Petra says as the two of them turn away from their lockers. “Do you need help finding your homeroom? Andie, was it?”

  “Yeah,” Anna adds, “good luck with that.”

  “My homeroom is right next to yours,” I tell Anna loudly as they begin striding down the hallway. “Hey, let’s walk together.”

  To be honest, our homerooms are in opposite directions, but I’ve gotten much better at making up fake last names.

  “Beuford?” the teacher calls out when I arrive just steps behind Anna. Petra broke off three rooms ago with a friendly pat on my arm, but Anna is the one I need to convince if I hope to get anyplace.

  Once I’m settled in beside her with my fake last name, I lean in and start my pitch. It sucks to be redirecting my plan so soon, but I always knew that flexibility would be key to making this happen.

  This unending day will not bend or stretch for me, but it’s all I’ve got to work with, so I’ll just need to be the one to adjust.

  At lunch, I sit with Tom and his friends and casually bring up the subject of Maya’s House. “Did you know that they have a movie theater inside?” I ask. “It seats about fifty people or so.”

  Tom nods his head. “Yeah, they show all these cool vintage classics.”

  “Have you ever watched a movie there?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Yeah, and I think they like to stick with the classics, since otherwise the films get overrun with the residents calling out, ‘What did he just say?’”

  I smile. Tom and I have had this conversation before about how frustrating it can be to watch a film with someone who expects you to miss portions of it in order to explain the parts they just missed. “I was thinking of going over there tonight,” I say. “Who’s in?”

  “I’m there all the time with my meemaw,” Tom says. “But she’s not much of a movie buff. She prefers the games in the arcade.”

  I say, “Well, I looked it up, and tonight they’re playing Casablanca, so . . .”

  “Oh my goodness.” Chuck hooks both thumbs around the straps of his yellow suspenders. “I am genetically required to watch that movie at every given opportunity.”

  I already knew this, but I act surprised. I smile and give him the showtime, explaining just how easy it is to gain free access to a classic movie playing on a big screen. As long as one doesn’t mind a few shouted interruptions of, “What?”

  As Tom and his friends pledge to come tonight, I think things are starting to get back on track.

  chapter 20

  The entrance hall to Maya’s House is eerily quiet when I arrive about five hours later, and I feel a tremor in my resolve. Actually, the tremor is more like an earthquake with a magnitude of 9.6 on the Richter scale. This is crazy.

  I don’t know if I have the strength to make it this far again if this time doesn’t work, and there is still so much that can go wrong. Way too many moving parts, but at least things are moving.

  Instead of focusing on myself and what I’m going through, I’m determined to help as many others as possible today. No matter how long it lasts.

  The flyers were thoroughly distributed around the school and through social media and various message boards with the event’s address and time. Spreading word ended up becoming a group effort, and the flyers looked something like this:

  #PrettyinPunx

  Hello, Punxsutawney High students, and welcome to another year of higher education!

  The first day of school is off like a dirty shirt and we’ve got the best way to celebrate. Put together your most volcanic ensembles and come one, come all, to an epic start-of-year social gathering. Don’t waste good lip gloss or miss out on the chance to say you were there. Come, be admired. Talk. Connect. Be #prettyinpunx

  We are about to throw the biggest high school inter-clique party this retirement home has ever seen.

  I start unloading the supplies I’ve picked up and head in to tell Nurse Dawn the parts of my plan she needs to know. It’s a good thing she’s more interested in happy experiences for the residents than she is in following protocol, because we’re about to break a whole lotta Maya’s House house rules.

  “Hey there, Andie, where’ve you been all day?”

  It’s Colton, and his arrival with his friends means this event is officially on in a big way. His invitation was the longest shot. I’d sent him an anonymous text that the cops had been tipped off to the traditional epic party at his buddy’s house. I also gave him details about this event and let him know there’d be free video games and drinks.

  Naturally, my text didn’t mention that the games are arcade classics from the 1980s and the drinks are primarily a selection of juices to encourage good digestion. All nonalcoholic.

  “Wait a second,” Colton’s friend Motko says as he moves in beside him. “This is the place where my grandpa lives.”

  “Welcome to Maya’s House,” I practically gush.

  Kaia sidles up close to Colton and gives me a suspicious look. I grin, and her penetrating glare morphs to mild confusion. I desperately want to take her perfectly airbrushed face in my hands and look her in the eyes and tell her that she doesn’t need to make herself sick anymore. That she deserves so much better, and that we are not enemies. Being a girl is not a competition.

  But she flinches when I lean toward her, and so I just say, “Hi, I’m Andie.”

  As if she can sense my original crush on Colton, she hooks an arm possessively around his bicep. “I thought you said there were drinks and video games,” she says. “This is just an old people’s home.”

  Just then, my Mad D Batteries bandmates walk in dragging armloads of equipment. “Where do we set up?” Anna asks me. I can see she’s truly a little excited to see the others here.

  Kaia laughs mockingly. “This, I need to see.”

  “Come on then,” I say. “The rec room is this way.”

  Instinctively chivalrous, Colton grabs an amp and Motko picks up one end of the electric drum set Katy is dragging. The two of them share a smile that fills my matchmaking heart with happiness.

  As we haltingly make our way down the hallway toward the rec room, I’m starting to wonder if I can pull this off when I hear the giggling chatter of more classmates arriving.

  Timing seems to be working out perfectly, and Tom should be showing up for the movie with his colorful friends any minute. I’m excited for them to meet the residents, since a number of them have similar taste in clothes.

  I even made sure the goths will come by inviting their tattooist buddy, Rodney, here to give temporary tattoos to everybody who wants one. He’s happy for the practice, and is busy setting up a chair in a corner of the arcade. Residents are already lined up, waiting to get faux-inked.

  Nurse Dawn was a little skeptical of Rodney, particularly when one of the elderly ladies ran up to ask if she can have her new boyfriend’s name permanently tattooed onto her chest. But Rodney was kind yet firm with the woman, convincing her that a long-lasting temporary tattoo was the better choice.

  “You have a lot of life and love left in you, I can tell,” Rodney said. “There’s no point in limiting your options.”

  Dawn gave Rodney a wink and told the woman, “See, Rosa. I’ve been telling you, he’s the lucky one.”

  I’m hoping that once Czyre gets here, he and Tammy don’t ignore the spark that was ignited between them this morning. And it would be so nice if Petra and Chuck finally got to spend a little time together—not to mention Katy and Motko, who are talking to each other right now as they carry in the rest of the band equipment. I’ve even noticed that Bridget has a lot in common with another close friend of Colton’s, who doesn’t drink due to his dedication to footb
all.

  This event is jam-packed with romantic potential.

  I may not have a shot with Tom, but that can’t stop me from trying to match up as many other couples as possible. I feel like I’m channeling the ultimate courtship ambassador: Cher Horowitz from Clueless.

  Above all, my goal today is to spread joy and happiness and love, so I especially more-than-anything hope we aren’t all about to get arrested over the teeny-tiny, minor fact that we’re completely overrunning, invading, and hitting the maximum occupancy level for this whole retirement community right now.

  It turns out, I needn’t have worried. Various residents jump up to greet many of my classmates, and it takes me a moment to realize that Petra wasn’t kidding when she said half the town has relatives who live here.

  It isn’t long before the cheerleaders are clapping their way down the hallway as the usual classic playlist blasts from the speakers. Anna earnestly breaks into her robot onstage and the crowd goes wild, including Tammy, who makes a beeline for Czyre right away. It’s the biggest and most diverse and energetic dance party this place has ever seen.

  The. Old. People. Love. It.

  When Chuck arrives, the old man wearing non-ironic suspenders is dancing with Petra to a crooner tune by Elvis. The two guys in suspenders admire each other’s accessory choices, and Petra smoothly switches partners to dance with Chuck.

  Everyone around me is so happy, I can’t help but to imagine this might be it. The final cycle to break me out of my curse.

  The night has everything: People breaking down social walls like in The Breakfast Club. There’s a wacky Ferris-Bueller-dancing-on-the-German-float feel to the retirement home surroundings, and there’s even a bit of Some Kind of Wonderful sprinkled in as we jump up onstage to start our Mad D Batteries set and Petra starts wailing on the drums as hard as Mary Stuart Masterson ever did.

  If only we could full-on Pretty in Pink this party with the original ending; the strong and proud and resilient redhead getting her moonlight dance with Duckie. From where I’m standing onstage I look across the crowd for Tom.