Breaking Up Is Really, Really Hard to Do

by Natalie Standiford

  Ramona put some powder in a saucer, then took a tiny hair from the baggie and stirred it in. She set a match to the powder and it exploded with a pop. “See the light as it burns, See the truth in the fire, You have but two loves, Ramona and Lina, Ramona and Lina, Ramona and Lina…”

  Ramona and Lina. Lina wanted to cry out for Ramona to stop. But it would be so rude, mean even.

  On the other hand…What would Dan think if he could see her now?

  “…We bow to you, our beloved, and plead with Venus, the goddess of love, to grant us your heart…”

  He'd think she was some kind of nut. And he'd be right.

  18

  Beauregard Meets Larissa

  To: linaonme

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CANCER: You'll come to a fork in the road today. Take it.

  Lina woke up on Saturday morning with a lump in the pit of her stomach. Today was the day—her date with Dan. There were two possibilities. It could be the happiest day of her life. Or the worst.

  She had a plan for getting into the city. She'd bike into town and take a cab to the ferry that crossed the bay and docked in San Francisco. Once she was in the city she could get around by taxi, bus, trolley, or BART, the subway system. She'd withdrawn some money from her savings account the day before to be sure she had enough cash. Everything was set. All she had to do now was give her parents a convincing reason why she was going to be gone all day.

  “You know, I miss your bangs,” her mother, Sylvia, said by way of greeting when Lina entered the kitchen for breakfast. “And your hair's getting a little too long. We ought to schedule an appointment with Terry soon.”

  Terry was her mother's hairdresser. Lina didn't see why she needed to do anything to her hair—it was long and straight and her bangs had grown out months ago. But she supposed she could use a trim.

  “All right, Mom,” Lina said. “Maybe next Saturday.” She leaned over to kiss her father, Ken, who was reading the paper and eating a bowl of cereal. “Morning, Dad.”

  “Morning, Lina Lolabrigida,” her father said, using an old pet name for her. “I think your hair looks fine.”

  “Thanks.” Lina toasted an English muffin for herself. It was all she could keep down, she was so nervous.

  “You excited about this afternoon?” Ken asked.

  Lina started. This afternoon? How did he know?

  “Um, excited?” she said. “What do you mean?”

  “The Forbushes,” Sylvia said. She sipped black coffee and ate fruit salad. “I'm sure I mentioned it to you. They're taking us out on their boat today.”

  “Looks like a perfect day for it too,” Ken said. “Sunny, light winds from the southwest—”

  The Forbushes! They were friends of her parents with two kids, June and Brendan, near her age. Lina didn't remember anything about going sailing with them today. She knew she'd remember if Sylvia had mentioned it. She glared at Sylvia, who refused to meet her eye.

  “You never told me about it,” Lina said.

  “Yes, I did,” Sylvia insisted. “I'm sure I did. I left a note on your desk at the very least.”

  A note on her desk. That old trick. It could have easily gotten lost—if her mother ever really left it. Sylvia was a doctor, and very busy, and sometimes she forgot things. But she hated to admit it. She couldn't stand to be wrong, ever.

  “I never saw any note,” Lina said. She looked to Ken for support.

  “Sorry, honey,” he said. “I should have said something.”

  “Well, I can't go,” Lina said, and in a panic tried to come up with an excuse. It had to be better than the one she'd planned—a day of shopping with Holly and Mads—because that one wouldn't fly. They'd only tell her to cancel it.

  “Lina, the Forbushes are looking forward to seeing you,” Sylvia said in that way she had, implying that she would make Lina suffer for disappointing the Forbushes long after the Forbushes themselves had forgotten all about it.

  “But there's a big girls’ soccer match today,” Lina said, hoping that was true, in case Sylvia decided to check. “And I've got to cover it for the paper.”

  “When will we see your first byline?” Ken asked. Lina had decided against showing them her journalistic debut, “Badminton Smackdown,” for obvious reasons. Luckily, she had a swim team story coming up next week. A real one, not a made-up one about Sean.

  “Soon,” she said.

  “My daughter the sportswriter,” Ken said. “I love it.”

  “She takes after you more every day,” Sylvia said in another typical tone of voice, where it was hard to tell whether taking after her dad was a good thing or a bad thing. What Lina loved about her dad was that he always chose to hear the good thing in his wife's voice, and not the bad. In that respect, Lina didn't take after him.

  “Anyway, Lina, you're just going to have to find someone to fill in for you,” Sylvia said. “We've been planning this day with the Forbushes for weeks.”

  “She can't do that!” Ken said. “What kind of journalist would she be if she skipped a story to go sailing?”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Lina said. “It's an away game, in Durban, so I'll be gone all afternoon.” Durban was a town about forty-five minutes away.

  “Do you need a ride?” Ken asked.

  “I'll catch a ride with the team,” Lina said. Her muffin was ready. She buttered it, spread orange marmalade on it, and took it to her room with a glass of juice. She thought she'd better get out of the kitchen as fast as she could—before Sylvia found a hole in her story.

  The trip into the city was surprisingly easy. I ought to do this more often, Lina thought. She walked down a busy downtown street, looking for The Garden Restaurant.

  She had agonized over what to wear, wavering between play-it-cool jeans and a glamorous, grown-up silk dress, but finally decided on a pretty flowered dress and sweater.

  Here it was. The Garden Restaurant. The doorway was draped with vines. Perfect.

  She took a deep breath. This was it. Do or die, now or never, put up or shut up, all that stuff. She hadn't eaten a thing since the English muffin she'd had for breakfast and she was glad, because she would have thrown up from nervousness otherwise. She could feel the blood rush through her veins. She opened the door.

  She was greeted by a blast of oompah music. She glanced around the restaurant in shock and dismay. A woman in a traditional German peasant outfit, white blouse and embroidered apron-like dress pushing up her bosom, hair in braids twisted on top of her head, stopped her. “Guten tag! Can I help you?”

  Guten tag? Was that German? What was this place?

  A chubby waiter in green lederhosen and a matching felt hat swept past, a platter of sausages and sauerkraut balanced on one shoulder. The band, a tuba, a trombone, and a bass drum, oomped and pabed. Big tables full of drunken tourists laughed and clapped. The walls were decorated with Christmas lights and scenes of the Bavarian woods.

  Oh my god, Lina thought. It's a German beer garden. The hokiest German beer garden this side of Disneyland. It's noisy, it's kitschy, and it's the least romantic place in the whole city of San Francisco. What would Dan think? It was not very Larissa. Unless she meant it ironically…well, that was the only explanation. Larissa would have to be an ironic hipster now.

  She glanced around the low-ceilinged, wood-beamed room. No sign of Dan. Just a lot of stout, red-faced people clanking big steins of beer together and bursting into song. “Roll out the barrel, we'll have a barrel of fun…” Lina tried to steady herself. Her nerves couldn't take this.

  “May I help you, Fraulein?” the hostess asked again. “Yes,” Lina said. “I mean, no. I'm meeting someone. I don't see him yet.”

  “Maybe he's outside in the garden,” the hostess suggested.

  The garden. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad out there. Lina threaded her way through the dining room and stopped at the threshold of a small courtyard. A vine-covered trellis made a canopy against the sky. It was a beautiful
day, so the courtyard was full of lunchtime revelers, too. And in the corner, at a table for two, sat Dan.

  Lina's heart pounded. He was waiting for her. Her destiny sat precariously balanced in that moment. What would happen when she approached his table? He'd be surprised, for sure. But then what? Happy? Upset? Hurt by her deception? Secretly thrilled? Would he pull out a chair and offer her a seat, or would he storm out in an angry huff?

  If he welcomed her, she'd be ecstatic. But if he rejected her, she couldn't bear it. Lina looked into her heart, forced herself to be as honest as she could, and weighed the probabilities. The chance of rejection was high. Maybe too high to risk.

  He hadn't seen her yet. There was still time to back out. She lingered on the garden threshold a moment longer—a moment too long. He turned his head, looking for the waiter, and spotted her.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He recognized her, smiled, and waved.

  Oh my god, Lina thought. He doesn't look upset. Maybe everything is going to be okay.

  She crossed the patio to his table. The oompah band followed her into the garden. Great.

  “Hey, Lina,” he said. “What a funny coincidence. What are you doing here?”

  He has no idea, Lina realized. That Lina could be Larissa seemed so impossible to him that it hadn't crossed his mind. He thought this was just a coincidence.

  I'm Larissa! she wanted to say. Don't you get it? You're waiting for me. I set this up, that's what I'm doing here.

  She opened her mouth. “Well,” she began, “I—”

  Oom, pah, boom boom smash) The oompah band had followed her and blasted a new song. People in the garden sang along. “In heaven there is no beer, that's why we drink it here…”

  “What did you say?” Dan shouted.

  “I'm—” She hesitated. Should she say it? I'm Larissa. It wasn't that hard. What was stopping her?

  “I'm—” She couldn't tell him. It wasn't right, the way she'd tricked him into writing her and falling for her. She could get him into a lot of trouble—and he was completely innocent. So innocent that he'd never guess in a million years what she'd done.

  “And when we're gone from here, all our friends will be drinking all the beer”

  Thank god for the oompah band, Lina thought. It had saved her. But now she needed a believable reason why she'd traveled miles from home just to come to a cheesy place like this. There was a blissful pause in the music. “I'm in the city shopping with a friend,” Lina told Dan. “I just ducked in here to use the bathroom.”

  Dan nodded. “I'm supposed to meet someone here. She chose this place. I have to admit it makes me wonder about her.”

  Lina felt terrible. Dan didn't know it yet, but Larissa would never show up. He'd be stuck in that beer garden for a long time, tortured by the oompah band, waiting for her. Poor Dan.

  “Well, I'd better go,” she said, a little sadly. “See you at school.”

  “Nice to see you, Lina. Have a fun day in the city.”

  “Thanks.” She walked back to the dining room, stopping one last time at the threshold of the garden. Dan had pulled a paperback from his pocket and started reading. At least he had something to keep him busy.

  She sighed, and mentally blew him a kiss. Then she went home.

  19

  Karaoke Kritic

  To: hollygolitely

  From: your daily horoscope

  HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: CAPRICORN: How low can you go? Pretty darn low.

  So what did you do this afternoon?” Holly asked Lina. It was 7:30 Saturday night and they were sitting at a small table in Room 1 of Kay's Karaoke Palace, watching Autumn, whose birthday it was, butcher “Your Song” by Elton John. Autumn's beloved, Vince, sat in front of her, beaming adoringly. Mads was due to arrive any minute with that guy Stephen she was always yammering about.

  “Um, I went sailing,” Lina said. “With my parents and some friends of theirs.” She sipped her strawberry smoothie, which came decorated with a paper umbrella in a glass the size of a fish bowl.

  “Cool,” Holly said. “Nice day for a sail. I helped Eugenia search the pockets of all Dad's suits for signs he's having an affair. An uplifting way to spend a Saturday.”

  “Did you find anything?” Lina asked.

  “Depends,” Holly said. “Does a pink golf tee count? Because that's all we found. Jen says the fact that it's pink proves he was golfing with a woman, which he doesn't usually do.”

  “I think Jen's reaching a little here,” Lina said.

  “Me, too. I really don't think Curt's having an affair. I think he just doesn't like being around Jen that much lately. Which is just as bad. Maybe worse.”

  Mads arrived with Stephen in tow. He looked a little uncomfortable, checking out the other kids. This wasn't his usual crowd.

  “Did we miss anything good?” Mads asked. They crammed themselves around the table, Stephen between Holly and Mads.

  “Hi, Holly,” Stephen said.

  “Hi,” Holly said. “You didn't miss much. Just love songs, nothing but love songs, from the birthday girl.”

  “I've never met the famous Autumn,” Stephen said.

  “There she is,” Mads said. Autumn still hogged the microphone, crooning “Endless Love” with Vince. “The famous Autumn. Famous for good reason. You should have seen the invitation to her party.” Mads described it to him.

  Autumn Nelson's Karaoke Party

  Kay's Karaoke Palace

  Saturday night from 7 till ???

  Here's what your life will he like if you don't come to my karaoke party—Loserville! Everyone will he talking about all the cool things that happened and you will have missed it! Your life will be over! So if you want a reason to keep on living, come to my party!

  “Was it an invitation or a threat?” Stephen asked.

  “Exactly,” Mads said.

  “Vince did a knockout Sinatra impression. I never would have guessed,” Lina said.

  “Oh, and Rob and Christie are competing with Autumn and Vince for first prize in the Couples Who Make You Want to Throw Up Contest,” Holly added.

  Rob and Christie were only two tables away. “Endless Love,” in spite of its name, finally ended, and they could hear Christie fussing and cooing over Rob.

  “You look so cute in that shirt, Sweetie-Pants,” Christie said. “It shows off your big swimmer-boy muscles.”

  Rob was wearing yet another of his t-shirts, GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE—POSTAL WORKERS DO. Holly put her finger in her mouth and made a gagging noise.

  “They're not really that big,” Rob said, staring at his upper arm. “But thanks. You look nice, too. I like that barrette you're wearing, Chris.” She was wearing a huge, hideous cow-shaped barrette in her hair. He had his arms around her, and she kissed him between sentences.

  “Honey-pie,” Christie corrected. “Remember, you're supposed to call me ‘Honey-pie.’”

  “Right. Sorry, Honey-pie. Hey—mind if I kiss you, Honey-pie?”

  “I love the way you ask me that,” Christie said. They kissed again.

  “You guys might not want to sit with me,” Holly said. “Because the chance of precipitation is 100 percent. I'll either be puking or crying, one or the other.” Clearly Rob was in no danger of being criticized for anything by Christie. And no one would ever call her picky. And she obviously didn't mind constant PDA.

  “Number 2507!” Rebecca called out. Partygoers passed around black vinyl notebooks filled with song titles. Each song had a number next to it. You picked out the song you wanted to sing, wrote down the title and number on a slip of paper, and turned it in to the guy who worked the karaoke machine. When your number came up, it was your turn to sing.

  “That's me,” Rob said. He got up and walked to the stage.

  “This should be interesting,” Holly said. “I've never heard him sing before.”

  The music started. The title flashed on the screen. “God. Save the Queen” by the Sex Pistols.

  “Oh no, not a punk so
ng,” Holly groaned. “That's karaoke suicide.”

  The song started. Rob tried to rasp it out. Really badly. He stank. But it was okay because he knew he stank and he didn't care, he was just having a good time. Holly liked that about him. Still, he stank.

  Everyone clapped when he was done—they were all friends, after all. He returned to his table and Christie.

  “You were so great!” she gushed. “You sounded just like Johnny Rotten. You totally rocked the house!”

  “Thanks,” Rob said. “I know I can't really sing, but—”

  “You can so totally sing!” Christie said. “You should go on American Idol. I'm serious.”

  “That puke-fest you talked about, Holly,” Mads whispered. “Can anyone join?”

  “The worst part is, he's eating it up!” Holly said. “He loves it.” But the real worst part was she still wanted him back. What would she have to do to get him? Was Christie really the kind of girl he wanted?

  All right, Rob Safran, Holly thought. I see what's going on here. You like a girl who loves everything about you. A girl who will never criticize you. Well, I can do that. If that's the kind of girl you want, that's what I'll be.

  The old Holly would have made a crack about the postal worker shirt. But the new Holly keeps her mouth shut. If she doesn't have something nice to say, she says nothing at all. Maybe she'd even broadcast the message to Rob through song. She flipped through the songbook, looking for “Just the Way You Are.”

  “So—that guy used to be your boyfriend?” Stephen asked Holly.

  Mads stepped in before Holly could answer. “They went out a few times, but she's totally over him now.”

  Stephen nodded and glanced back at Rob. Holly threw Mads a. look but didn't say anything. What was going on? Mads knew that wasn't true.

  The party was in full swing now. It was hard to hear people talk, what with all the cheesy belting going on. Lina spotted Walker at a table with a few of his friends. He waved to her. Autumn flounced over to Holly's table and pulled up a chair.