He thinks he’s Alternative Tyler.
He thinks that everyone thinks he’s Alternative Tyler.
But even through my cringing and his bad songs—I don’t deny his cuteness. Even in his Mohawk wig. I mean, he’s supposed to be my first kiss.
And I have to be loyal to the list.
THIRTY-FOUR
I KNOCK ON RYAN’S DOOR as soon as I get home from the dress rehearsal.
“What?” he says.
“Can I come in?” I ask. I wonder if he knows about Tyler and the talent show.
No response.
I continue, “I have sweets. Your favorite, too.”
“No thanks.”
“Ryan. Please.” I know I sound so pathetic, begging to go into his room, but we need to strategize. If we work together, we can get to this party.
“Kaylan, seriously.” He opens the door a tiny crack, just wide enough for me to see the corner of his nose. “Did you take some kind of weird lame potion? I swear. You’re out-laming yourself every day.”
Out-laming myself?
“Are you done?” I ask. “Because I know how you’re going to get to that party on Saturday. I know how you’re going to convince Mom that it’s okay to go.”
“Yeah. How?” He closes the door in my face. “Maybe if you just accept that you’re the biggest loser in the world you will stop annoying me.”
“Fine. I’m done.” I walk away from the door. “I’ll be at the party. And you won’t be. I guess you didn’t realize Tyler invited me.”
He opens the door. “Yeah, right! In your dreams!”
Seriously, it’s like my dad took Ryan’s personality with him when he left and now Ryan has reverted to acting like a two-year-old.
My mom comes home a little later and yells up the stairs to tell us she picked up sandwiches from the Harvey Deli near the doctor’s office where she works.
I text Cami.
Me: Guess who’s the luckiest girl in the world? I’m having Harvey Deli for dinner!
Cami: JEALOUS! You promise you’re really gonna come on Sunday?
Me: PROMISE! ☺ WE GOTTA GET THE BLANCHE!
Cami: Yes!!!
I sprint downstairs and put on my biggest smile. I’m about to have the best dinner ever, and I’m actually going to have plans with friends this weekend. I promise myself I won’t bail this time. Cami isn’t Ari, but if everything goes well at the party, I’ll need someone to rehash with.
“I got you that eggplant sandwich you love,” Mom says.
“Mom!” I wrap her in a hug. “Thank you so much. Why are you the best ever? Seriously, the best ever.”
She steps back and puts the greasy white bags on the kitchen table.
“Okay, Kaylan.” She looks at me with her hands on her hips. “What do you want?”
“Huh?” I crinkle my face and go to the cabinet to get plates and cups.
“Don’t huh me,” she says.
“I can’t tell you I love you and thank you for bringing home the best sandwich on the planet?” I sit at the table and begin to unwrap all the food.
She shrugs. “You can. And I love you, too. Where’s your brother?”
I yell to him to come down, and he shows up a few minutes later.
“Thanks for the meatball sub, but I’m still not talking to you,” Ryan says to my mother, pouring a tall glass of lemonade.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she says.
He doesn’t respond. He’s taking this way too far. Especially since he doesn’t realize there’s actually a very simple solution.
“This is still about the party?” my mom asks.
He still doesn’t respond.
I can’t handle the silence anymore. Well, it’s not really silence since both my mom and brother are such loud chewers. But I can’t stand hearing the chewing anymore.
“The party Saturday night?” I ask. I think it’s good to play dumb at first and then slowly ease into the reveal.
“I think it’s Saturday night,” my mom says. “I don’t even know anymore. All I said was that I needed to know if the parents were going to be home, and if I could have a phone number, and Ryan wasn’t willing to go along with that.”
“You completely freaked out. No one gives out home numbers anymore. Don’t you know that, Mom? I have a cell phone.”
I put down my sandwich and take a deep breath. “Okay, everyone. Let’s calm down a minute.”
“Shut it, Kaylan,” Ryan says. “You don’t know anything. I don’t know why you pretend that you do.”
I pause and exhale and control my temper. “I know who’s throwing that party. I know that I’m invited. And I know that I can assure Mom that the parents will be home.”
Ryan stares at me. It’s clear that he doesn’t know if I’m lying or telling the truth. But he’s intrigued. His eyes soften. He looks at me, and then at my mom, and then back at me. He waits for me to continue.
Mom sips her seltzer and I think she’s also confused. Maybe she thinks I’m lying.
“Tyler invited me to the party, by the way,” I tell them. “But I know who’s throwing it. It’s that kid Craig in eighth grade. The one with the purple hair. Don’t freak out, Mom.” I look at her, and she smiles. “His sister Lizzie is in my grade. She’s my lab partner. So anyway, I asked her what’s up with the party. She said her parents are letting Craig throw it because he got all As.”
Okay. Now I am embellishing a little because I have no idea if that’s the reason. I think Craig just wanted to have a party. And also, the being-home thing is a little bit of a white lie. The parents will be home, but they have their own wing, and they promised to stay there the whole time.
“Uh-huh,” Mom says, waiting for me to go on.
I turn to face her. I look her right in the eyes, so she believes me. My mom is really big on eye contact. “So I can give you their number. Lizzie is really normal.”
And I may be white lying a bit here, too. Because I’ll give my mom Lizzie’s cell-phone number . . . and I’ll have Lizzie prepped about the whole thing.
“Ryan,” my mom says to him. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s fine,” he says.
“And?” my mom asks. “Do you have anything to say to your sister?”
“And I appreciate Kaylan’s effort.”
Wow. This is the nicest thing he’s said to me since last April. I know Mom had to pull it out of him, but it was still nice.
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
“I could’ve told you all of that, though,” he says. “You don’t listen to me, Mom. You realize that, right? You’re always so quick to say no to me. But to Kaylan, you’re like sure, whatever.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true.”
“It is, Mom.” He talks with his hands. “Dad took me seriously. But you don’t; you never did.”
She looks at him and then puts her hand over her eyes and starts crying right there at the kitchen table. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and down onto her chicken parmesan hero.
I don’t know what’s sadder—the fact that she’s so broken up right now or the fact that her sandwich is going to taste salty. Like, really salty. And soggy, too. She’s ruining a completely amazing sandwich!
I reach over and put an arm around her. “Mom. It’s okay.”
I nudge my head toward Ryan and mouth, “Say something.”
He jerks his head at me, like I’m a nuisance, but he’s the nuisance. He just ruined this, when I had it all figured out for him.
“Mom. It’s okay,” I say again.
Finally, Ryan says, “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean that. I know you try. But it’s like super-sucky without Dad here.”
Ryan, I mouth again. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. She knows it’s super-sucky. She didn’t want Dad to leave. She’s like the saddest mom in the world now, even though she tries to pretend she’s okay. . . . I mean, I think that’s what she’s trying to do.
So he continues, �
��And I know it’s hard on you, too. And um, like, I think Kaylan and I can be more supportive. I’m sorry.”
She looks up and wipes her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. “Thank you, Ryan.”
I’m not sure if I should say sorry because honestly I feel like I’ve been pretty good lately and haven’t been causing too much trouble. But it’s one of those moments where maybe I should just say it to be nice and be on the safe side. Also, I’m just sitting here, not doing anything. I finished my sandwich, and I don’t think this is the time to ask my mom for a bite of hers. I could eat around the salty, soggy parts. . . .
I feel both my mom and brother look at me, so I say, “I’m sorry, too. I can definitely be more helpful. I should set the table without you having to ask, and um, make my bed more often than I do.”
My mom nods, waiting for me to go on, but I think I’m done.
“Anyway, I’m glad I solved the party problem,” I tell them, and start clearing the table.
“I’ll drop you guys off,” my mom says. “Maybe I can say hello to Lizzie and Craig’s parents.”
Ryan and I stare at each other.
Wait. What?
I should’ve known it couldn’t possibly have been this easy.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I say, putting some plates in the dishwasher. “We have this under control.” I turn around so I can see them. “Look, you have so much going on. You don’t need to concern yourself with some dumb middle school party. And besides, I’ll post pictures to Instagram, so you can follow the whole thing from home.” I smile.
“Kaylan,” my mom says, like she sort of finds that funny. “You and Ryan are my concerns. My only concerns.”
She stands up from the table and tells us she needs to do some work on the computer, and we tell her we’ll take care of the cleanup.
“Oh, that’s so nice. Thank you.”
When she’s in the den and I’m confident she can’t hear us, I turn to Ryan and say, “Feel better?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“Don’t be all yeah, whatever,” I say. “I helped you.”
“And I said thank you,” he says. “Now leave me alone.”
“Ryan.” I tap him on the shoulder while he’s loading the dishwasher. “Stand up. We need to recognize what just happened.”
He hesitates, but then stands and faces me. “Go on.”
“We just conquered Mom on this party issue,” I remind him. “Together. You and me.”
He tilts his head and glares at me. “Kaylan. Do we need to put our arms around each other and sway like we did at that church retreat last year?”
I crack up and cover my mouth. “No. But we can admit we did it, right?”
“Right.” He puts his hand out for a low five. “We did it.”
I go upstairs and text Lizzie and tell her about the drama with my mom.
She writes back a few minutes later. I get it. My mom is crazy, too. I’ll have her text your mom. Okay?
Me: Uh, okay. ☺
Okay, so that’s settled.
Now all I have to worry about is Tyler.
And the talent show.
And figuring out a way to make peace with Ari. I kind of wonder if she’ll be at the party, but I don’t think so.
And finishing the 11 Before 12 List.
And figuring out my Whole Me Makeover.
And maybe a birthday party.
Easy peasy.
THIRTY-FIVE
JASON: I’M AT THE BBALL game with my dad. Have fun at the party!
Me: Thanks! I will. I think I will . . .
Jason. You will. Going to get fries now. Later!
Me: Bye.
My mom agrees to drop us off at the end of the block and not in front of the actual party. The weird thing is that other parents are dropping their kids off and it’s not a big deal, but Ryan is pretty freaked out about it.
“So you’re set, Mom, right?” I ask her before I get out of the car. “You have Lizzie’s number? My phone is on. So is Ryan’s.” I look at her and she smiles.
“I got it. Thanks, Kay-Kay.” She turns to the backseat. “Ryan, have fun. Okay?”
He nods hesitantly and seems like he almost doesn’t want to get out of the car. He was the one who was begging to go to this party in the first place. I guess he forgot that part. So I get out of the car and then I wait for him. A few seconds later, he gets out, too.
He’s really letting me walk in with him? We can hold our heads up high, and be this cool brother-sister duo.
But then he says, “I’m gonna go on ahead, okay?”
I nod, even though it feels like my skin is crinkling up. Walking alone into a party is scarier than flying on a plane by yourself. At least on a plane, you have a flight attendant to look out for you.
I slowly walk down the sidewalk, and I look at my phone a few times, too. I debate texting Ari or calling her. I probably should have asked some of the girls at my table if they were going, but I didn’t. It felt mean because if they weren’t invited, it would be like rubbing it in.
I finally reach the front door, and I stand on the front steps for a few minutes before I go in.
“Hey, Kaylan,” Lizzie says, and I quickly thank God that she’s there, right by the door, to greet me. My hands are sweaty so I wipe them on my jeans and give her a hug. We’re not really hugging friends, but at this moment, it feels right.
“Come downstairs,” she continues. “Everyone’s down there.”
We walk down a hallway covered with photos of school picture days and weddings and vacations. And then we reach a steep staircase.
It sounds loud down there. Music is playing and people are talking and the air smells like fruit punch. My stomach twists and turns around itself. I think I should go home.
I might barf.
I stop midstaircase.
“Are you okay?” Lizzie asks me.
“Um, yeah, I think so.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing that crazy is going to happen. I promise.”
“Okay, thanks.” I pause and wonder what she thinks I’m worrying about.
When we get downstairs, a big group is sitting on a wraparound couch. The guys are sitting back, drinking soda, and the girls are sitting on the edge, half talking to the guys and half talking to the other girls.
I look around, double-checking who else is here while Lizzie runs back upstairs to get more cups.
In the corner by the foosball table, I see the bikini boobage girls from the pool, and I immediately look away. I don’t want them to see me. I mean, I don’t even think they know who I am. But I still don’t want them to see me.
Tyler is nowhere in sight.
I pour myself a cup of Sprite and take a handful of pretzels, and I stand near the couch with my back to the wall. I look at my phone a few times, to keep occupied, and I pray that someone I know shows up or that Lizzie talks to me or that Tyler appears. It feels like we’ve been here for three centuries. Time may be moving backward right now.
If only Jason were here, and we could laugh about clementine peeling or astronomy.
“Where’d he go?” I hear someone say, and of course I know the voice. Tyler.
It’s unmistakable. At least it’s unmistakable to me because I’ve been eavesdropping on him for so long. I don’t know who the “he” is that he’s referring to so I look up and smile, and hope that we’ll make eye contact.
“We have your drink, Ryan,” Tyler sings, and I look around, but I don’t see Ryan. And then Tyler holds up a baby bottle filled with milk. “Ryan, your bottle’s ready.”
Where did he get a baby bottle?
Finally Ryan appears, coming out of the side room. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
“Drink it. Drink it!” Tyler starts shouting. And then others join in.
I don’t understand what’s happening here. I get the joke—that they think Ryan’s a baby. Kind of lame, but whatever. But why do they think that? And why do they care if he drinks the milk? It’s just milk. Th
en I start to worry—what if it’s laced with something? Some kind of poison? Not poison that will kill him, but something that’ll make him throw up or have diarrhea for days.
People are still chanting, “Drink it! Drink it!”
Something bubbles up in me—I’m not sure what. This crazy, spiky, fiery feeling that I need to protect my brother. I’ve never felt it before.
I stand up and shout, “NO!” It comes out louder than I’d intended it to. Like the words are doing what they want to do and I’m not controlling them.
“Kaylan?” Ryan asks, and then he walks over to me and grabs my arm. Through clenched teeth he says, “What are you doing?”
I lead him into the side room to chat and people say “Ooohh,” which is totally, totally gross. Do they realize he’s my brother? Whatever. No time to deal with that now.
“There could be something in that milk,” I say. “You don’t know what’s in there. Can you trust these people?”
Ryan looks into the big room and people are saying, “What are you, chicken?” and “He really is a baby!” and “Scaredy-cat.”
Then he looks back at me and shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I gasp.
He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He’s crying. Ryan is crying right here, right now, at this party, and the kids are chanting things and I have no idea what’s going on.
I came here to see Tyler, but he hasn’t even said hi to me yet. All he’s done is torment my brother.
“Tyler. He was my best friend. But something changed this summer. He’s buddies with this kid George who just moved here from Queens and this other kid Derek that we never talked to before.”
“Yeah?” I say, so he knows I’m listening. And I nod, encouraging him to continue. “But Tyler’s at our house all the time,” I remind him.
“Yeah, whatever, but he’s constantly putting me down and stealing my stuff. It started at the beginning of the year,” he says. “They think I’m a baby because I wouldn’t steal cans of soda out of Mr. Carlton’s car. And because I wouldn’t give them my answers for the math test a few weeks ago.”
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