Summer of Brave

by Amy Noelle Parks

  “Can you tell them I don’t feel well? That I’ll see them tomorrow?”

  Colby gives me a long look, not sure what to think, but starts typing.

  My own phone buzzes. Even though they won’t be able to see me, I feel like I need to get myself together before I pick it up. I wipe my eyes and then my nose with the cuffs of Colby’s sweatshirt.

  Then I fold back the sleeves to hide the evidence. Ladylike. Colby winces, but doesn’t say anything. He’s a trouper. Knox and Vivi text me at the same time on different threads.

  Vivi: What’s wrong?

  Lilla: Some stomach thing. I don’t think I should come over tonight. I don’t want to make you two sick.

  Vivi: Poor baby. I could bring you chicken soup.

  Lilla: Maybe tomorrow. If I don’t feel better.

  I switch over to Knox.

  Knox: Colby said you’re sick?

  Lilla: Yeah. Sorry.

  Knox: Not your fault. Will you be at the museum tomorrow?

  Lilla: I hope so. I’m going to bed early.

  Knox: Feel better.

  Colby offers to walk me home. I don’t argue.

  We’re quiet as we walk. I don’t know Colby well enough to talk about what happened. And I can’t talk about this to Knox. He likes Matt, and even if he didn’t, how could he understand how that whistle made me feel? I wouldn’t have understood myself until it happened. And Vivi?

  Vivi who wants me to be brave. She’d be so disappointed. I laughed and said “’kay”? Who does that? I wish I had shouted or slapped him or even called for help. I wish I were the kind of person who fights back.

  At my house, Colby says, “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Sure. Thanks for coming with.”

  “I have sisters.” Colby may not know exactly what happened, but he has some idea. For some reason, this brings tears to my eyes again.

  I unzip his sweatshirt to give it back, but he shakes his head. A little frantically.

  I manage a laugh. “Sorry. I’ll wash it first.”

  “Take care.” He touches my arm in a completely normal way, but I have to force myself not to pull back.

  Everything is different now.

  CHAPTER 18

  Aftermath

  When I open the door, Dad calls, “Lilla?”

  “Yes.” My voice comes out surprisingly normal.

  Instead of answering, he mumbles something. As I come toward the kitchen, I see he’s on the phone. Maybe Mom?

  But he says, “No, she’s back. I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to happen tonight. Duty calls. I know. Me too. Bye.”

  Oh.

  Not Mom.

  This is actually happening. Dad steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “On the phone?” he says. “No one. A friend. Someone from work.”

  “Is this a guessing game?” I can’t believe he’s standing here, looking me in my eyes, and lying. I guess this is not my night to be treated like someone who matters.

  “Are you okay? Did you and Vivi have a fight? Whose sweatshirt is that?”

  I answer the easiest question. “Colby’s.”

  “Oh.” He’s quiet a moment. “Did you and Knox have a fight? About this Colby?” I don’t even want to know what story he’s building there. I don’t have the energy for it. Especially since he is obviously not interested in sharing the details of his life with me.

  I want my mom. I want to lie down on the bed and have her rub my back and tell me it’s going to be okay. But she’s in Chicago doing I don’t know what, and I’m here with Dad, who is not great at showing emotion and lies and seems a little afraid of me right now. Because I’m about to cry. Or am crying, I guess. It’s not the sobbing kind, but the one where tears keep leaking out.

  “I don’t feel well. I’m going upstairs to lie down. I’ll sleep up there tonight.” My softest blanket is up there. And Anne of Green Gables. I need a comfort book. And to be left alone.

  “Lilla, I don’t…” Dad says.

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure you should be up there. Without your mom. It’s her space, and she and I didn’t think to talk about this.”

  “It’s my house too.” My voice breaks. I can’t believe he’s making even this little thing so hard. “My room is up there.”

  “You have a room here. That’s why we did it like this.”

  I shake my head. “Giving me two rooms didn’t fix anything. You and Mom destroyed my family. You don’t get bonus points for making the aftermath easier for you.” My voice is soft, but Dad acts as if I shouted.

  “Calm down. Whatever’s going on, all this drama isn’t going to make it better. Your family hasn’t been destroyed. It’s just different.”

  “Sure. I know.” I need to get away before everything I’ve been thinking the last year flies out of my mouth.

  He blinks. “I’ll text your mom. Let her know you’re sleeping upstairs.”

  “Thanks.” I stop in my downstairs room to grab my speaker and the handbook Kate asked us to study tonight. The strange thing is even though I just told Dad how terrible the divorce has been for me, I feel like I suddenly understand Mom’s decision to end things. I’ll bet she felt alone with feelings a lot.

  Like I am tonight.

  Upstairs, I turn on every light, put on the slow, sad music Vivi hates, and stare into my closet. I have to figure out what to wear tomorrow.

  I have a feminist mother. And I took health from a teacher who liked to Get. Into. It. I know—in my head—that what happened wasn’t my fault. That what I wear doesn’t give anyone permission to touch me or whistle at me.

  But.

  Tonight was the first time I ever dressed for a boy. And look what happened. It feels like I brought this on myself.

  Maybe Kate was onto something with her dress code. My outfit broke a lot of her rules. Bare shoulders. Leggings. Inappropriately tight.

  Distracting. I zip up Colby’s sweatshirt again. I hate that Matt did this to me, but I can’t undo it. My body feels dangerous.

  Not so long ago, Vivi, Knox, and I wandered all over town on our own. It’s weird to think I’m less safe now than I was when I was little.

  I pull out the loose black linen pants Mom bought when she visited somewhere hot and a long black T-shirt I got for a Halloween costume. I won’t look like me, but maybe that’s just as well.

  Then I brush my teeth and wash my face and climb into bed with my clothes still on and read my book under my sheet.

  An hour later, my phone buzzes. It’s Vivi, saying she’s coming up. On my way to the door, I turn off the lights I put on all over the house, so she doesn’t think I’ve lost it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, wondering if Colby said something—more than that I was sick.

  “I felt bad because your mom’s not here. And your dad freaks out when you get sick. Is that why you’re staying up here?”

  I’m embarrassed to tell her what happened, but I’m so grateful she’s here. I throw my arms around her.

  She rubs my back and says, “Let’s get you into bed.” She sounds exactly like her own mom.

  When I lie back down, she says, “Aren’t you hot? You don’t want to take that sweatshirt off?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t get warm.”

  Vivi strokes my hair, and my whole body relaxes. Adrenaline crash, probably. “It looks like one Colby has,” Vivi says.

  “Mmmm,” I agree, almost asleep now. “He gave it to me.”

  “Oh. That was nice.”

  “Yeah.” I nestle into the pillow and let Vivi’s hand comfort me into sleep.

  In the morning, my sadness is gone, but dread fills the space left behind. I can’t believe I have to go to this camp and see Matt. I hate the idea of being around anyone who saw the completely helpless way I reacted, much less the actual person who caused it.

  Vivi’s still asleep on the daybed, so I creep out to get
in the shower. I feel disgusting, like I really was sick. After I put on my baggy black clothes and braid my hair, I go back to the bedroom to see if Vivi wants breakfast. Dad will cook for us if we go downstairs. And if Vivi’s there, we can pretend last night never happened.

  She’s sitting up, my museum binder in her lap. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “What?” I say, thinking idiotically that she read about the whistling.

  “That you got the science camp. You let me think you were doing art.”

  Right. I completely forgot that part. “Prisha got the art camp,” I say, somehow thinking she’ll take it better if she thinks someone got something I wanted.

  “Prisha. It must be so fun for you. All your friends.”

  “Vivi?” My voice breaks a little. She has never, ever talked to me like this.

  “You need to decide if we’re friends. Best friends. Because if we are, I shouldn’t have to act like an investigative reporter to figure out what’s going on in your life. Lying to your parents is sad, but I get it. But I don’t want to be one more person you’re afraid of getting in trouble with. I already have a little sister.”

  I draw in a shuddery breath, trying not to cry. Vivi winces and then steels herself. She’s not giving in.

  “I didn’t tell you about the camp because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” I say.

  “It’s not just that. You weren’t sick last night. You were heartbroken. And now you’re dressed like some kind of sad poet, and I have no idea what’s going on. If this is one of those growing-apart things, because you want new friends or to go to ordinary high school or to hang out with Prisha instead of me, just say so.”

  “We’re not growing apart,” I say. That’s the one thing I’m sure of. Although I guess there is kind of a lot I haven’t told her.

  “Yes, we are. But I can’t make you talk. No matter what wish I make.”

  She looks at me, waiting, but I don’t know where to begin. Her shoulders slump, and she grabs her bag. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

  “Vivi, this isn’t fair.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Not a Big Deal

  Dad gives me sideways looks on our walk to the museum, clearly wondering what the heck is going on but afraid to ask. I’m happy for the silence.

  “Your mother will be home this afternoon.”

  “What was she doing anyway?”

  “I’ll let her tell you.”

  “Right.”

  “I do know this is hard for you.”

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  Disappointed as I am with him, I take Dad’s hand when we get to the entrance. Knox and a couple of other kids are up ahead, but I feel like I need a parent. Dad gives me a surprised look.

  “Will you walk me in today?”

  His eyes widen. “Lilla. What’s going on? Did Knox say something to you last night? Or this Colby?”

  “No, Dad. Stop calling him ‘this Colby.’ Forget whatever Vivi’s mom said. Colby’s great.” I hate hearing that suspicion in his voice after everything Colby did yesterday. “There’s just a lot of high-school kids and college students…”

  “You’re almost a high-school student yourself.”

  “I know. But not yet.”

  “I guess I should be glad for every minute you’re willing to be my little girl. Come on.”

  We get through the hallway without running into Matt. I say goodbye to Dad and go into the science museum on my own.

  “Hey, Lilla,” Aman says when I walk into the lab tucked in back. Aman’s a high-school senior and one of the head science counselors. From what I saw yesterday, he seems okay.

  Excitement about being here starts to dampen some of my worry. I’ve made slime and terrariums and volcanoes in this room for camps and birthday parties, and now I get to be in charge.

  “We’re setting up for electricity experiments today,” Aman says. “We were thinking you and Drew could work on the circuit puzzles.”

  “Sound good,” I say, moving over to the jumble of wires, batteries, and circuit boards on the table.

  “You test the batteries and sort through this stuff,” Drew says to me. “I’ll design the puzzles.”

  I look at him but don’t move.

  “New plan,” Aman says into the silence. “Lilla and I will do the puzzles. Drew, go help Caden.”

  Drew shrugs. “Whatever.”

  Together, Aman and I sort through the box, reorganizing and testing. After working in silence for about thirty minutes, he says, “I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but he’s like that with everyone. Yesterday, he explained binary to me and Caden.”

  It does make me feel better. Aman won some kind of coding competition last year. Our computer science teacher had his picture on the wall.

  “So it’s not a specific form of jerkwaddery. There’s something for everyone.”

  Aman laughs. “Exactly. Although I won’t sit here and tell you being a girl has nothing to do with it.”

  “Thanks,” I say. Because I don’t like to think I’m imagining it.

  After we get everything organized, we work on setting up light-bulb puzzles. We’re arguing about how to arrange them from easiest to hardest when Matt comes into the room.

  I keep my eyes on the circuit in front of me, making a bigger show of connecting the wires than I need to.

  “Can I talk to you a minute, Lilla?” he calls.

  Without looking up, I say, “We’re a little busy here.”

  “It’ll only take a second.”

  The light bulb I’m using to test the connections slips out of my hands.

  “I need her to finish this up,” Aman answers for me. “We’ll see you at lunch.”

  The door closes, but I keep my eyes on the table in front me, brushing the broken glass into a pile.

  “What happened?” Aman asks, his voice flat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have some experience getting the crap beat out of me, so I know what afraid looks like.”

  “It’s stupid,” I say. It’s hard to imagine anyone understanding how I felt yesterday. If you say it out loud, it seems like nothing. And I barely know Aman. And he’s a guy.

  He pushes back from the table. “Do you want me to get Kate?”

  “No!”

  His eyes get bigger. Drew and Caden show up at the door. “Ready for lunch?” Caden says.

  “In a minute,” Aman answers, not taking his eyes off me. “You go ahead.”

  They leave.

  “I’m sorry. But it’s not just about you. He works at a camp for kids. You need to tell me what happened. Or I can get Molly or Kate, but we need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

  Aman’s thinking this is worse than it is. And he’s sweet to offer to get Molly or Kate, but I’d rather tell him. I like how comfortable he is with silence and that he stood up for me with Drew and that he won’t let this go. Before I bring in an adult, I’d like to run it by someone closer to my age.

  I tell him the story.

  Disgust crosses Aman’s face. “You’re a kid.”

  I shrug, thinking about what I was wearing and feeling guilty. “I don’t think he knew that. At first.”

  Aman looks at the empty doorway. “My guess is he wants to apologize. You want to let him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to be alone with him.”

  “If you want to hear what he has to say, I can be there.”

  “Thank you,” I say. I’d rather deal with Matt with company than have him seek me out when I’m alone. I’m not afraid exactly. But definitely uncomfortable.

  Aman and I walk down to the windowless basement cafeteria with its row of ancient vending machines. A long time ago, someone painted polka dots on the walls to try to cheer the place up. They did not succeed.

  Knox, Colby, and Prisha are all sitting at a round table. Matt’s not in the room.

  “Saved you a spot
!” Prisha says, smiling. She seems to have gotten over me not going home with her yesterday.

  “Feeling better, Lilla?” Knox asks. He tilts his head. “On second thought, you don’t look that great.”

  Prisha shoves his shoulder. “Be nice.”

  “Was that not nice?” he asks, looking confused. “Because she’s not normally so pale and vampire-like.”

  “I’m okay.” I put my lunch on the table.

  “Lilla and I have to go see Matt,” Aman says. “Be right back.”

  It’s just as well. There’s no way I can eat right now. I barely ate breakfast, and I had trouble keeping that down. I can’t imagine the evolutionary reason for this. How is throwing up a useful response to stress?

  Matt and Molly are in the classroom where I interviewed. He jumps up when he sees us, and my whole body freezes. Just like on the street yesterday. I can’t stop seeing his face when I turned around. I’ve read the word leer a couple of times, but I didn’t know what it looked like until yesterday.

  “I need to check in with these two about something. You want to go down for lunch?” Matt says to Molly as he opens the door for her. He looks at Aman. “Can you give us a minute? I need to talk with Lilla.”

  Worried, I turn to Aman, but he doesn’t move. “Lilla wants me to stay.”

  I nod.

  “It’s a glassed-in room. He’ll be able to see everything from the hall,” Matt says, still holding the door.

  I find my voice. “No.”

  Matt runs his hand through his hair and steps away from the door. “You told him?”

  I nod again.

  “God. You look terrified. I’m so sorry. I never would have done that if I had known.”

  “Known what?” I ask.

  “That you were so young.”

  How old would have made it okay? Fourteen? Sixteen? I don’t say this out loud. Because, as nice as Aman’s been, that’s what he said too. That it wasn’t okay because I was a kid. But is that really the only reason it was wrong?

  “From the back, you didn’t look thirteen.”

  “Twelve,” I say.

  His face turns pale. But then he says, “In some ways, it’s a compliment. Lots of girls would feel flattered.”