by Kit Frick
Right.
Maybe I’d text Ret. She’d definitely be going to Dave’s tonight. If we went together, maybe it wouldn’t be so weird. And not that she really needed the moral support, but I knew Jonathan would be there. A few days ago, after weeks of moping around the Pine Brook halls like a discarded teddy bear, he had started hooking up with someone new. A pretty strawberry blond freshman with perfect skin and perky breasts and shiny pink nails.
Ret swore she didn’t care, but I had seen her watching them together, seen the lapis blue of her eyes harden into ice.
I checked my phone again, opening up to our group chat, Spraaang Break. Bex was already over at Jenni’s, and they were promising daiquiris with fresh peach nectar to Ret and me if we showed up.
ELLORY HOLLAND
Putting in some QT with Mom and Dad. Let’s make a plan for midweek!
JENNI RANDALL
Boo. Ret with you?
ELLORY HOLLAND
Nope, probably at Franklin’s party.
I closed our chat and scrolled back through my messages, to my last exchange with Matthias, four days ago. Talk later, OK? I’d written. He’d said, Let me know. The ball was officially in my court. He had stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped trying to get my attention in the halls, because I had told him to. I’d told him we’d talk later, and then I’d left him hanging all week. I clicked on the new message icon and started to type.
Hey. Delete.
Can you talk now? Delete delete.
What’s up? Ugh. Delete delete delete.
I tossed my phone down to the end of the bed, and Bruiser raised his head to look at me.
“Don’t judge,” I said. I pushed myself up to stand in front of the mirror. My hair was a mess. My cheek had a web of lines pressed into it from the comforter. I walked across the hall, into the bathroom, and splashed water on my face. It felt cold, sharp. I gasped.
“Everything okay, honey?” Mom called from the family room.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Your dad said you’re not feeling well. Did you take your temperature?”
“I’m just a little tired,” I lied again. I buried my face in my bath towel. Even after my skin was dry, I kept it pressed to my face, my breathing muffled against the soft fabric.
“Do you want to watch a movie with us? You should see everything I picked up.”
I walked back into the hall and stared through the doorway into my room, where my phone was still lying face down at the foot of the bed. Bruiser had stretched one paw across it, as if claiming it, or daring me to pick it back up. “Be right there.”
I could have texted Matthias. I could have texted Ret. I could have even gotten in the Subaru and driven over to Jenni’s. Instead, I slipped off my shirt and jeans. Then I dug around in my dresser until I found a clean pair of sweatpants and a big, soft T-shirt. When I walked down the hall to the family room, I left my phone behind.
36
JUNE, SENIOR YEAR
(NOW)
I walk onto the field and allow myself to blend into the sea of maroon and gold. Groups of kids gather at the thirty-yard line where row after row of plastic chairs have been set up, stretching toward the end zone. On stage, Principal Keegan is adjusting the mic and trying to tamp down a stack of papers at the podium. Someone emerges with a paperweight. Someone shouts, “After party at Maria’s!” and Maria Hidelman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack. Someone does an impressive series of cartwheels and flips across the grass.
This morning, I almost told my parents I didn’t want to go. You don’t need to go to graduation to graduate, after all. But the year is over. I made it. I owe it to myself to acknowledge that officially, even if I have to do it alone.
“Hey, Ellory!” Up toward the front, in a sea of senior Rockettes, Abigail is standing on her chair. She sweeps her arms back and forth in a big wave, then points toward an empty seat next to her. I haven’t seen her much this spring, though we’ve taken to waving in the halls and saying hi. I never imagined sitting with the Rockettes at graduation, but I return Abigail’s wave and start walking, grateful for the offer.
I take my time walking down the field, and my eyes roam across the rows. I find Jenni first, in the back with her boyfriend, Elliot, the lead vocalist in Pine Brook’s only Christian rock band. I wonder if he’s wearing his trademark brown leather jacket under his graduation gown in this heat. The boys are sitting a few rows further up: Matthias, Dave, and the Smurf. They all have PBJ spelled out across their caps in bright yellow tape. Pine Brook Jesters. Peanut Butter & Jelly. I don’t know them anymore. I don’t know their jokes. I keep going. Bex is somewhere in the middle-right rows, snapping selfies with the senior dance team. All the planets, flung far apart.
I find Ret last. I wasn’t sure she’d be here, after her disappearing act last week, but she’s perched in a seat on the end of the aisle up front. Alone. As I get closer, I wait for her to sense me. Three, two . . . She turns around and stares. I force myself to look back at her, stare straight into the sun. She raises her hand toward me; she’s going to wave.
She takes aim and shoots me straight through the heart with one slender middle finger. Then she bursts out laughing, doubling over into the aisle.
She is toying with my heart. She is serious as death.
My hands are shaking, and I tear my eyes away, up to the rows of teachers in their suits and dresses seated on stage. Safe territory. I can’t tell who looks stranger: all of us in our caps and gowns, or all of our teachers in their too-fancy clothes. When I look back, Ret’s slouched down in her seat again, her back a solid wall of maroon fabric. She reaches into the folds of her gown and slips out her flask, then takes a long drink. No one seems to notice, or care.
I suck in the warm spring air and keep walking. Abigail is waiting. I press into her row, and her friends make room as I pass by. No one hassles me or gives me a hard time. When I slip into the empty seat beside her, Abigail smiles. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes, one quick pulse. I squeeze her hand back, thank you, and then we all turn to look as the marching band enters the field and begins to play the Pine Brook anthem.
After the valedictorian address, Principal Keegan makes some sappy remarks about seizing the day and we all shuffle onto the stage to shake his hand and take the blank scrolls that we’re promised will be replaced with our real diplomas in two to three weeks. When they call Matthias’s name, I look away. When they call my name, I can hear my parents and Mr. Michaels cheering from the stands. No one boos. No one objects. The voice that says everyone is talking about me, pitying me, judging me finally shuts up. At least for today, I’ve been granted a reprieve. And after this, I never have to come back. I walk across the stage and shake Principal Keegan’s hand like everyone else.
And then the air is filled with a thousand caps and tassels that flare like stars, and it’s over. Abigail is hugging me, and then my parents are hugging me, and there are camera flashes everywhere. The light stings the back of my eyes. As the field starts to empty out, I look around for Ret, but she’s gone.
37
THEN, THEN, THEN . . .
APRIL, JUNIOR YEAR
(SPRING BREAK, SATURDAY)
I burrowed deep into my comforter and pressed the phone icon on my screen. Calling Ret . . . It was ten in the morning, the first full day of spring break. I was too lazy to get out of bed, but after my night of chamomile tea and You’ve Got Mail with Mom and Dad, I needed an update from the real world, bad.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
“How was the party?” I slid the phone between my shoulder and chin.
“Huh?” Ret’s voice sounded rough, like I’d woken her up.
“Dave’s party? Any gossip to report? I haven’t left the house in almost seventeen hours, so please humor me.”
“Sorry, still waking up.” I could hear her stand and walk across the room, the sound of the blackout curtain scraping against the window. “Jesus, Dave’s. Ellory, why di
d I go to that party?”
“What happened?” I sat up, letting the comforter bunch down around my waist.
“The typical shit. Jonathan was there, of course. With his strawberry skank. Since when are freshmen even allowed into Dave’s parties? They spent the whole night making out on the white couch, right in the middle of the living room. It was disgusting.”
My stomach lurched. The living room couch. Our couch.
“Was Matthias there?” There was a long pause on the other end. “Hello?”
“Yeah, Matty was there, and the Smurf.” Ret made a noise through the phone that was half moan, half growl. “Dear Maude, I drank so many wine coolers. I think I will vomit if I ever have to look at another Keylime Berryade or Coco Colada.”
“Jesus, Ret.”
There was another long silence on the other end. “I think I did something really wretched last night.” Ret’s voice was small. “If you’d’ve been there . . . Ellory, why weren’t you there?”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
Ret didn’t answer. I could hear her moaning softly. “I might need to puke.”
“Do you need to call me back?”
“No, wait. It’ll pass.” There was a long pause, and it sounded like Ret was pulling a sweatshirt on over her head. “Christ, it’s all coming back. I saw Jonathan, and then I drank all the sugar drinks, and then we were all over each other, in front of the whole party. In front of everyone.”
“You and Dave? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” I wanted to ask about Matthias, had he been there with anyone, had he asked about me, but Ret had clearly been too distracted to notice. I sank back into the pillows. “Were you planning to keep him a secret forever?”
Ret stifled something that sounded like either laughter or a sob. In a minute, I could hear her breathing even out. “Maybe I’m still under the influence or whatever. I’m overreacting.”
“That’s the spirit.”
There was another long pause. When Ret spoke again, her voice was serious. “Ellory May, I need you to listen to me. Here’s the takeaway: High school boys, they suck. They drive us to do brainless shit, and they don’t deserve us. I am cutting myself off.”
“Okay.” It was hard to take Ret seriously. She’d just find a college guy in no time. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Doesn’t it? Listen, I have the most amazing idea. Epic. We’ll put a moratorium on dating, until college. You and me together, starting right now. Wouldn’t that free up so much space in your head? Like, for art and stuff? We will be desired and unattainable.”
“Hold up, don’t drag me into this.” I laughed, sharp and short. Classic Ret, assuming I’d blindly follow her into the abyss.
“He’s all wrong for you, Ellory. You’ve been miserable for months.”
“Did something happen with Dave?” I asked, redirecting. “Should we call someone?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. Swear.”
“Okay.” We sat in silence for a moment, and I tried to wrap my head around Ret’s drama. She’d embarrassed herself at the party, and now she wanted to swear off men. Maybe she would end up ditching Dave, but she’d change her mind about the moratorium by next week, and I’d be the one left alone.
“You were with Jonathan for a long time,” I said. “You should try being single. But I am not breaking up with my boyfriend in solidarity. Sorry.” Whatever problems Matthias and I were having, those were between us. I wasn’t about to make any hasty decisions to humor Ret.
She didn’t respond for a long time. Too long. But when she spoke again, her voice was cheerful. “I just hate to see you in pain, Ellory. Think about how much fun we would have senior year. You and me, single. Totally free. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
I swallowed. There was a lump in my throat, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. “Fine, I promise.”
“I’m going back to bed. Let’s get lunch this week, girls only.”
“Sure, I’ll text you.”
I clicked the red icon on my phone. End call. I needed breakfast. I needed to think. I knew Ret inside and out, and there was something she wasn’t telling me.
APRIL, JUNIOR YEAR
(MONDAY AFTER BREAK)
But we didn’t get lunch. On Tuesday, I drove Bex to the Capezio store in Camp Hill for a new pair of pointe shoes, and that was the last time I talked to anyone aside from my parents, Bruiser, and Matthias for the rest of break. Wednesday night, I turned off my phone and deactivated my Facebook account. It was easier not to know what anyone was saying.
When I got to school on the first day back, it was obvious that everyone knew what had happened over break. Lying low had delayed the inevitable, but word had spread without me. A thousand eyes latched onto me in the halls, waiting to see how I’d react. At lunch, I skipped the sky dome and retreated into the shop. I thought about skipping French too, but I couldn’t hide forever. When I walked into class, Ret and Jenni were there already, sitting on the other side of the room, across from our normal seats. So they were avoiding me. Nice. Ret was staring intently at the top of her desk, but Jenni looked up at me with this weird, totally unblinking stare. She didn’t have to say it; lines had clearly been drawn. Jenni was out of the doghouse and soaking up the sun. Just like that, she’d traded my friendship for a ticket back into Ret’s good graces.
I sank down into my usual chair and I didn’t say anything because what could I possibly have said that wouldn’t have come out in a stream of knives and flames and pure, unfiltered venom? I kept my head down and bored rage holes through the top of the desk with my eyes. She had been lying to me for months. She had let me lie to myself. I hated her.
When Bex showed up in the doorway a minute later, it was like someone was forcing her to choose between Mom or Dad after the divorce. She was only in this class to brush up on what she called “textbook French” for the AP exam, and suddenly I resented her deeply for taking the easy path. She should be in Spanish, or Mandarin. Was she going to make the easy choice now too? But then the choice was made for her because the people who normally sat where Ret and Jenni had parked it showed up and slid into the seats next to me instead, and so she wound up on the other side of the room. And suddenly it was Team Ellory against Team Everyone Else, and I knew that this was going to get ugly. This wasn’t going to be about rallying around poor Ellory, and how bad she must be hurting. No. This was going to be about forgive, or get out.
APRIL, JUNIOR YEAR
(SPRING BREAK, SATURDAY)
For the rest of the day, Ret’s words were a jumble in my head. I couldn’t add them up. Something else had gone down at that party, something more than a living room full of people watching two kids pawing at each other. Who cared? Certainly no one would by the time we got back to school.
It wasn’t like Ret to be shy about a fling. To be shy, period. Boys were her weak spot, her one insecurity, but this drama felt manufactured to hide something else. Dave had done something, said something. I started to seethe. Maybe I should have warned Ret away from him, after all, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew she wouldn’t have listened.
I cleaned my room. I drove to CVS for my mom. Whatever had happened, I could have stopped it. If I had just gotten in the car, gotten over myself, gone to that party. Ellory, why weren’t you there? Finally, after dinner, I picked up the phone and broke my week of silence. I texted Matthias.
APRIL, JUNIOR YEAR
(MONDAY AFTER BREAK)
I wanted to scream and throw my desk across the room, smash it through the window, turn the classroom into a war zone of explosions and broken glass. I wanted everyone to see what I was feeling inside.
But we were in class, and I was not a violent girl.
So I sat and seethed while Madame Clement launched into a cultural lesson on the Parisian school system, and Bex threw me a series of worried glances from across the room, and Ret looked like she was going to burst into tears at one point, and then Jenni gripped her hand and squeezed it hard,
and that’s when my insides lit on fire. It was like my entire body was engulfed in flames. The anger was hot and white and pure, and I couldn’t let it go. It was the only thing keeping me silent and in my seat and pretending to listen to Madame Clement’s assessment of the French testing system.
At the end of class, Ret dropped a note on my desk before Jenni grabbed her by the shoulders and rushed her out into the hall. You do what you have to do, Jenni. Don’t even worry about me. Bex stood in the doorway for a moment, hovering between me and the other girls. She wanted to say something, but she was afraid. Choosing me meant losing Ret. I shoved my books in my bag, and when I looked up she was gone.
Lemming.
APRIL, JUNIOR YEAR
(SPRING BREAK, WEDNESDAY)
For the first part of break, he was busy. Extra shifts at the restaurant, Cordelia, the usual. He couldn’t meet up until Wednesday, so I waited. I took Bex to get new dance shoes, I hung out at the library with my mom. Ret wanted to get lunch, but I put her off. I had to talk to Matthias first, had to know the truth. I had pushed my way into his house, just like I’d pushed him into talking about the future before he was ready. I pushed, and he pushed me away. We didn’t use to do this to each other. He took me to the restaurant. He took me to the Crow. He took me out with Cordelia. He used to invite me in, not shut me out.
And then I’d shut him out with my silence. If there was anything left to salvage, I had to know.
On Wednesday, I waited for him to come over. Finally, there was the soft grind of truck tires against the curb out front. The muffled slam of the door. It was almost two; my parents were at work and Matthias definitely wasn’t supposed to be there, but I didn’t have time to care about the rules.
I opened the door and took him by the hand. His palm felt a little clammy. He was wearing a shirt with little ivory snaps, jeans, his scuffed-up loafers. I took it all in. I hadn’t looked—really looked—at him in days.
