What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know

by Sonya Sones

  Dylan makes a beeline for me and says,

  “Hey, Murphy. Where’s that wicked cool hat of yours?”

  I pretend to be caught off guard by his question.

  “Um … uh … at the cleaner’s?” I say.

  “For chrissake,” he says, reaching behind me

  and grabbing it out of my hand.

  “How dumb do you think I am?”

  But I don’t think it’d be a good idea

  to answer that particular question right now.

  So I don’t say anything.

  I just lunge for my hat,

  trying my best to make it look like

  I really want to get it away from him.

  “Whatsa matter, Murphy?” he says,

  yanking it out of my reach

  and smashing it down onto his own head.

  “Afraid you’re gonna get my cooties?”

  I recoil with what I hope looks like actual horror.

  “Take it off!” I shout, lunging for it again.

  But that only makes him press it down

  onto his own head even tighter.

  Darn.

  I Keep Trying to Snatch My Hat Back

  Until the bell rings.

  Then I beg Dylan not to throw it out the window.

  So, of course—he does.

  This allows me to run outside

  and slip it safely back into its plastic bag

  without being seen.

  I’ll be late to English class,

  but if my mission’s been accomplished,

  it will have been way worth it.

  Now,

  I’ll just have to wait a day or two

  and see what happens …

  Late on Friday Night

  I’m sitting at my computer,

  messing around on Google Earth,

  cruising through the streets of Bermuda,

  thinking about Sophie,

  wondering which one of these streets

  she’s on right now,

  wondering if maybe

  she’s thinking about me, too …

  Probably not—

  probably

  I’m the furthest thing

  from her mind.

  But maybe,

  if I concentrate real hard on her,

  she’ll be able to sense it,

  be able to pick up on my vibe …

  Sophie’s always saying

  she knows things.

  Maybe she’ll know

  I’m thinking about her …

  I close my eyes,

  trying to picture her face.

  And the second I do—

  my cell rings!

  I Grab the Phone

  “Sophie!” I say. “It’s you!”

  But there’s a silence on the other end.

  “Uh … no,” a voice says. “It’s Tessa, actually.”

  “Tessa? … Oh. Tessa. Hi!” I say. “Sorry about that.

  I was expecting another call.”

  “Let me guess …” she says with a little laugh.

  “From Sophie, right?”

  “Yeah. She’s my …

  she’s a friend of mine,” I say.

  And as soon as these words

  pop out of my mouth,

  I wonder why I didn’t tell her

  that Sophie’s my girlfriend.

  Maybe it’s because

  I’m not even sure

  Sophie wants to be my girlfriend

  anymore …

  Tessa Says She’s Calling to Tell Me the Plan

  “We’re all meeting in the Yard

  by the statue of John Harvard

  tomorrow morning at seven thirty, okay?”

  “Seven thirty?” I say. “That is not okay!”

  “I know, I know,” she says.

  “I thought seven thirty in the morning

  was just a nasty rumor.

  But apparently it actually exists.”

  Then she says that Richard’s insisting

  we start off her birthday celebration

  by witnessing “an undisclosed sociological event.”

  And he says we’ll miss it if we aren’t there by eight.

  “Seven thirty’s fine,” I say. “I was only kidding.

  I’m used to getting up early.”

  Though, of course, I don’t tell her the reason why—

  which is that I’m still just in high school.

  As soon as we say good-bye,

  my focus shifts back

  to the virtual streets of Bermuda.

  And to Sophie.

  “Well, what did you expect me to do

  while you were gone?” I say to the screen.

  “Sit here in my room all weekend,

  twiddling my thumbs?”

  Richard’s “Undisclosed Sociological Event”

  Turns out to be

  the Running of the Brides,

  this huge annual wedding-dress sale

  that they have at Filene’s Basement.

  We get there just as the doors swing open

  and hundreds of screaming brides

  run into the store,

  along with their screaming mothers

  and all their screaming bridesmaids.

  It’s like some kind of crazy extreme sport.

  The dress racks are stripped bare

  sixty seconds after the stampede of shoppers attacks.

  And that’s not the only thing that’s stripped bare.

  The frenzied brides-to-be have all peeled

  down to their underwear to try on the gowns!

  Tessa and Eve put their hands over our eyes

  so that we can’t ogle the customers.

  Then Eve helps Tessa try on one of the dresses.

  And when Tessa takes off her T-shirt

  and slips the dress on over her tank top and jeans

  she looks sort of …

  well, I guess she looks kind of beautiful.

  Which is pretty weird.

  Because until this minute,

  I hadn’t ever noticed that about her.

  That she’s beautiful, I mean.

  Honk Performs an Impromptu Wedding

  Randomly grabbing Richard

  to unite him in unholy matrimony with Tessa.

  Then Eve and I pelt the newlyweds with Skittles,

  since we don’t have any rice.

  After that,

  we head over to Little Italy for some breakfast,

  laughing when Tessa starts feeding Richard

  all these big sloppy bites of cannoli,

  like a bride feeding wedding cake to her groom.

  From there,

  I suggest we hit the Museum of Dirt.

  “Because I know that Tessa

  will really dig it,” I say.

  Everyone groans at my pun.

  But they flip when we actually get here

  and start looking at the labels

  on all the little glass bottles.

  “Whoa …” Richard says. “Donner Party dirt!”

  “Check it…” Eve says.

  “This dirt’s from Martha Stewart’s compost heap!”

  “And look at this …” Honk says.

  “Dirt from Diana’s crash site!”

  Though Tessa’s the most stoked of all.

  She nearly faints when I show her

  the dirt from Mick Jagger’s flower bed.

  But when she sees the dirt from Graceland,

  she throws her arms around my neck

  and tells Richard she’s filing for divorce—

  so that she can marry a man

  who truly understands her:

  me.

  Then, Eve Suggests We Bypass Lunch

  And instead, she takes us to

  the Chocolate Bar at Cafe Fleuri,

  an all-you-can-eat chocolate buffet.

  We gorge on chocolate mousse,

  chocolate truffles, chocolate ice cream,

  cho
colate cakes,

  chocolate pies,

  chocolate cookies, chocolate pudding,

  chocolate crepes …

  We even try chocolate sushi,

  chocolate chicken, chocolate pizza,

  and chocolate soup …

  And when we’ve eaten ourselves sick,

  and we’re all just sitting around

  going into sugar shock,

  I say, “Hey. Maybe if we tell the waiter

  that it’s Tessa’s birthday,

  he’ll give her a free dessert.”

  Everyone cracks up,

  and just then, for some unknown reason,

  I happen to glance toward the door.

  And guess who’s walking through it?

  Dylan!

  Flanked by his parents.

  He doesn’t see me,

  but I see him.

  And a huge grin spreads across my face—

  because I can’t help noticing

  that he’s scratching his head

  like a wild man.

  Feeling Triumphant

  I rouse everyone

  out of their chocolate-induced stupors

  and take them over

  to the Mapparium.

  It’s hard to explain what this place is like,

  but try to imagine being on the inside looking out

  of a three-story-tall stained-glass globe

  of the world.

  When we walk out onto

  the suspended glass bridge

  that runs right through the center of it,

  we notice that there’s an amazing echo in here.

  So we gather round Tessa

  and sing her “Happy Birthday.”

  The acoustics are so spectacular

  that we practically sound like a chorus of angels.

  When we’re finished, Tessa says,

  “Thanks, guys.

  That was awesome.

  This whole day’s been awesome.”

  “I guess you’re just about the luckiest

  birthday girl in the world,” I say.

  “In the world. Get it?”

  Tessa laughs and rolls her eyes at my pun.

  Then she gives me a hug

  and I give her one back.

  And just at that exact moment, I happen to

  glance up at the map of the world overhead,

  and my eyes land right on Bermuda.

  When We Get Back to Harvard at Around Six

  No one’s ready for the party to be over.

  So Tessa invites all of us

  up to her suite in the dorm.

  It’s set up kind of like a hotel suite,

  with a living room she calls a common room,

  and some bedrooms off a hallway to the left.

  Tessa, Richard, Eve, and I

  flop down on the couches

  in the common room.

  But Honk rushes out the door,

  saying he’ll be right back.

  A few minutes later, he returns

  with a platter full of all these ice-cube-size

  chunks of strawberry Jell-O.

  “Snack time!” he says.

  Everyone seems real pleased to see this Jell-O,

  which strikes me as a little bit weird.

  But I’m not exactly up on my college crazes.

  Maybe Jell-O’s all the rage right now …

  “To Tessa!” Honk says,

  holding up the jiggling red cube in his hand

  like it’s a glass of champagne.

  “On her … on her … how old are you, anyway, Tessa?”

  “I’m … I’m only … eighteen,” she says,

  like she’s not real crazy about admitting it.

  “A mere baby,” Richard says.

  “To baby Tessa,” Eve says,

  “on her eighteenth birthday!”

  “To Tessa!” we all say.

  Then we “clink” our Jell-O cubes together

  and toss them back like shots of whiskey.

  “Geez,” I think to myself.

  “If they think she’s a baby …”

  Then Richard Asks for Some Tunes

  So I figure now would be a good time

  to give Tessa the present I made for her last night—

  a mix of birthday-themed rock and roll oldies.

  It’s got classics,

  like the Beatles’ “Birthday” song,

  and Lesley Gore singing “It’s My Party.”

  And some funny stuff too,

  like this weird old track I found of some dogs

  barking out the tune of “Happy Birthday.”

  Tessa loves it.

  And so does everyone else.

  We all get up and start dancing.

  And that’s when I notice

  that I feel strangely loose,

  like all my joints

  have been oiled.

  We Don’t Stop Rocking Out

  Till Chuck Berry finishes singing

  “Sweet Little Sixteen.”

  Then we flop back down on the couches

  and Honk offers us some more Jell-O.

  All that dancing made me so hot,

  and the Jell-O feels so nice and cool

  sliding down my throat,

  that I help myself to a third chunk of it.

  “You’re so lucky you live in Grays,”

  Eve says to Tessa.

  “Your common room’s big enough

  for a dance party.”

  “You’re living in the Harvard Hilton,” Honk says.

  And then, without any warning,

  Richard turns to me and asks,

  “Which dorm do you live in, Robin?”

  “I… uh … I…” I mumble, trying to think of a way

  to avoid answering the question.

  But the hard drive in my head

  seems to have crashed.

  And all of a sudden it hits me how tired I am—

  tired of always having to pretend

  to be someone I’m not.

  So I just blurt it out:

  “I don’t go to Harvard.”

  For a Few Seconds, No One Says Anything

  Then Eve breaks the silence.

  “I knew it!” she says.

  You’re an M.I.T. man, aren’t you?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “Hold on a minute,” Richard says.

  “Let me have a shot at this: Boston College, right?”

  “No. No. I go to—”

  “Wait. I know,” Honk says.

  “It’s Brandeis, isn’t it?”

  I open my mouth to speak,

  but I can’t seem to form a sentence.

  So I just shake my head no.

  “Where do you go, Robin?” Tessa finally says,

  staring at me with wide, curious eyes.

  I take a deep breath and force the words out:

  “To high school.”

  My Words Hang in the Air

  Like a grenade with its pin pulled out.

  I grit my teeth

  and wait for the explosion …

  Tessa blinks at me in disbelief.

  Here it comes …

  Here it comes …

  But then she just grins and says,

  “That’s so cool.

  What grade are you in?”

  Huh?

  Did she just use the word “cool” to describe

  the fact that I’m still in high school?

  “I’m … I’m a freshman,” I say.

  Honk’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “So that means you’re only, what—fourteen?”

  “Fourteen and three quarters, actually.”

  And when they all burst out laughing,

  it dawns on me

  how totally infantile that must have sounded.

  But Then Honk High-Fives Me

  “You’re an amazing artist, bro,” he says,

  “for someone so young.”

&nbs
p; “He’s an amazing artist, period,” Tessa says.

  “And an amazing con artist,” Richard says,

  slapping me on the back.

  “We’ve been punked,” Honk says.

  “It must have been his beard,” Eve says.

  “It makes him look so … so grown up.”

  “And so hot,” Tessa says,

  giggling and snuggling up to me.

  I swallow hard,

  and that’s when I realize how thirsty I am.

  So I slip another chunk of Jell-O down my throat.

  Which is when Richard gasps and says,

  “Omigod! We’ve been corrupting a minor!”

  “What are you talking about?” I say.

  “These are Jell-O shots,” Tessa says.

  “There’s vodka in them.”

  “Ohhhh …” I say, pondering this new

  piece of information.

  “Then that would explain why I’m so wasted.”

  After the Last Jell-O Shot Kicks In

  Time shifts into this weird kind of warp,

  where everything’s happening real fast,

  but in this strange slow-motiony sort of way …

  And when I glance around the room,

  I notice that Richard’s asleep

  on one of the couches.

  And that—whoa …

  Eve and Honk

  are making out on the other one!

  Tessa rolls her eyes,

  motioning to the kissing couple.

  “I think they need some privacy,” she whispers.

  Then she takes hold of my hand

  and leads me down a short hallway,

  mumbling, “Let’s get out of here.”

  My head feels like a balloon,

  bobbing above the rest of me

  like it’s attached to my body by a thread.

  I’m so dizzy that I have to lean against Tessa

  to keep from falling over.

  “Where are we going?” I say.

  “To my room,” she says.

  We Flop Down onto Tessa’s Bed

  And just lie here on our backs,

  staring up at the ceiling

  with the room spinning around us

  and the bed sort of floating …

  Then Roy Orbison starts singing

  “Sixteen Candles,”

  and, out of the blue,

  Tessa turns to me and says,

  “You want to know a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “Promise you won’t tell?”

  “I promise.”

  But she hesitates, like she’s still not sure