Summer of Brave

by Amy Noelle Parks

  When I open my eyes, I say, “Can you not? Tonight? Can you give me one night when I don’t have to worry about what you want or how to make you happy?” My throat’s closing because I’m holding back tears, but I manage to get out the words.

  “Lilla,” Mom says. She’s hurt. But I’m out. I have nothing left to comfort her with.

  “That’s not fair,” Dad says. “We’ve organized our whole lives around you.”

  “No. You organized your lives so you can do what you want without feeling bad about it. And I do coding and art and tutoring and gifted classes because you think I should.” I wish my voice could be louder and stronger, but I’m too close to falling apart to manage anything above a whisper. “I am applying to the magnet school. And I sleep where you tell me, and I don’t have a single space anywhere in the whole world that feels like mine. And I will be doing this for the rest of my life because Christmas and Thanksgiving and my birthday will always be organized around the two of you and where you are and what you want. And tomorrow, I will be ready to pretend that it’s fine again. That it’s no big deal that Mom wants to live away from me five days a week and that Dad is…doing whatever he’s doing. But right now, I need you to leave the room I am sleeping in tonight.”

  Mom and Dad say nothing. They look stunned. I can see Dad thinking about whether to tell me to go downstairs, but he doesn’t. After they leave, I shut the door behind them and lean against it until the waves of anxiety settle a little.

  Then a nervous laugh escapes. I need to text Vivi. I am for sure getting some Summer Wish points for this, even if she didn’t make it a challenge.

  CHAPTER 25

  Do Science, Draw Pictures, Smile Sweetly

  That night I barely sleep. I’m obsessed with the new feeling curling inside me. I told my parents how I felt, and it was scary, but the world didn’t end. It’s like after the library with Mrs. Wilder, but times ten.

  Mom and Dad whisper-argued in the kitchen for a while. And then they went to bed. They’re still my parents. Mom will go to Chicago or she won’t. Dad will talk to me about who he’s dating or he won’t. I’ll go to the magnet school or I won’t. We’ll find a way through this. But for the first time in a year, I’m not alone with my problems.

  And I didn’t yell or scream or slam doors or do any of the things I always thought being angry meant. I said how I felt. Quietly. Honestly. Lilla-like.

  At breakfast, Mom and I eat our bagels in silence while she watches me carefully. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  “Not yet,” I say, but I’m not hiding. I’m thinking. “Vivi invited me to sleep over tonight. Can I go?”

  She wants to say no but doesn’t feel up to it. Before, I would have seen she didn’t like the idea and said never mind, but today I keep my mouth shut until she says, “Sure. But tomorrow, we need to talk. All of us.”

  “Okay.” I know they can’t ignore all the things I said last night, and I don’t really want them to. But I’m in no hurry to keep talking about them.

  When I show up at Vivi’s after lunch, I find her and Prisha on the porch playing with Gabi. I sit down by them cautiously.

  “What’s going on?” I don’t know if I should be happy or afraid.

  Vivi gives me a hopeful smile. “I asked Prisha to stay over too. Is that okay?”

  A grin pushes my cheeks way up. “That’s awesome!”

  Vivi scoops up Gabi. “I think I’ve fulfilled my duties as a sister today. I’m going to take her in. Be right back.”

  “Surprised?” Prisha says when Vivi goes.

  “No,” I lie. “Vivi thinks you’re great.”

  She snorts, a sound I didn’t know she could make. “We decided that since you like us both, we must be worth the effort.”

  “Maybe I have terrible taste in friends?”

  “Except Knox is such a cinnamon roll.”

  “Oooo. Are you getting Lilla to talk about Knox?” Vivi hands each of us a lime popsicle and sits down on the steps below us.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I figured it out—why you don’t like Colby,” Vivi says. “It’s because you have a crush on Knox.”

  I hide behind sarcasm. “Because that’s the only reason I could not like Colby.”

  “Why are you so weird about this? He likes you, and not the way he likes me. That doesn’t mean you have to like him back, but I think you do?”

  Prisha nods with big exaggerated movements.

  A little flicker of warmth glows inside me, but I stomp it down. “I don’t want it to be like that with Knox. I don’t want him to look at me like…”

  My voice trails off. Prisha looks confused, but Vivi gets it.

  “You can’t let that take away something good. It doesn’t have to be like that with boys. Knox thinks of you like a person, not a thing.”

  “He does now,” I say. But it’s hard for me to believe that will stay the same if he starts thinking about me as a girlfriend. He’s already all excited to open doors in a completely unnecessary way.

  “What happened?” Prisha asks.

  “It wasn’t a big thing.”

  “Don’t do that,” Vivi says. “It was a big deal. Is a big deal. You work with this person. And so does she. And he’s terrible.”

  I tell Prisha about the catcalling, and she’s not surprised. “I stopped walking by the fraternities a long time ago. What did Kate say?” It doesn’t even occur to Prisha that I wouldn’t have told Kate. Is this how everyone else goes about their lives? Not worrying whether they’ll upset other people with their words? Just…saying things?

  “She said she’d talk to him,” I say. “But…”

  “You can’t keep working with him. Do you want to quit?”

  “No,” Vivi says before I can answer. “You haven’t even gotten to work with the kids yet. Think of something else.”

  But I don’t see how I can go into the museum every day and see Matt.

  “Knox nailed it at the music store this morning. It was sort of sweet, actually,” Vivi says, making me wish I could have seen it. “I need to set a new challenge. Maybe you should lead a protest.”

  For a moment, I imagine leading people up and down the street carrying a sign and chanting. I shake my head. “Not my thing.”

  “You could tell Matt what you think of him and let him know he’d better stay away from you or else,” Prisha says.

  “That’d work too,” Vivi says.

  Telling off Matt feels good in my imagination, but in real life I’d fall apart and feel worse.

  “I need a way to be brave that feels like me.”

  Vivi says, “So, you want to draw pictures, do science, and smile sweetly about street harassment?”

  I snap my head toward her.

  “What?” she says.

  “Yes,” I say. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Totally Clear

  I am the daughter of two PhDs. I may be quiet and not very ambitious, but I can do a research project. Using Vivi’s computer, we blow up a map of the blocks around campus.

  “We can print this at the university library,” I say. “They have one of those giant printers.”

  “Isn’t that expensive?” Vivi asks.

  “We can do it in black and white. And it’s worth it.” When I got the job at the museum camp, Mom and Dad put a hundred dollars in my bank account. They said it was less than they would have spent on the coding camp I was going to do with Vivi if I didn’t get picked, and I should get paid for my work. I’m happy to spend some of it on this.

  Later we set up in front of the college library, laying our giant map flat on the ground. I have a box of colored sticky dots in my hand.

  Summer session’s started, and while the campus isn’t as crowded as during the school year, it’s awake. We’re a little giggly at first, but the college girls we talk to are sweet, and pretty soon we have a routine. Prisha goes first, asking students and professors and tourists ab
out the first time they were catcalled. Next, she sends them to me at the map. I explain our color coding—blue for wherever you heard someone say something to you, yellow for anyplace you’ve been followed, and red for anywhere a stranger’s put his hands on you in public. I give out more red dots than I expect. Vivi has them sign a petition to end street harassment around campus.

  Clouds of color bloom around the fraternities—not just Matt’s—and around a bar downtown and, strangely, in front of a car wash. Almost no one takes only one dot to put on the map. And no one says they can’t remember where it happened.

  When a woman who’s at least Mom’s age takes a strip of blue stickers, I can’t help raising my eyebrows.

  She smiles. “I ride my bike to work. It happens a lot.” After she puts all her stickers on, she says, “It’s good you’re doing this. I forget I don’t have to take it for granted.”

  Back at Vivi’s, we have dinner with her family and end up in our pajamas on her screen porch with a pan of brownies.

  “This was really great,” Prisha says. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “It wasn’t painful at all,” Vivi responds. “You’re way cooler than I thought.”

  So I guess it’s time for Insult Our Friends.

  “Sorry,” Vivi says into the silence.

  Prisha tosses her hair. “It’s not like I didn’t know what you thought of me. Besides, I always liked the idea of being a Cotton Candy Princess. That may be my Halloween costume this year.”

  Vivi’s mouth opens. Mine too, and my cheeks get hot.

  “Where did you hear that?” Vivi asks.

  Prisha laughs. “You’re a lot of things, Vivi, but subtle isn’t one of them.”

  “Sorry…” Vivi says again.

  But she’s holding something back. I can tell. “Just say it.”

  Vivi lifts her shoulders and turns to Prisha. “I’m not trying to start a fight, but I don’t understand how you can listen to all the stories we heard today and then turn around and wear makeup and short skirts and all that.”

  I look at Prisha, afraid she’s going to get upset. But she’s calm. I turn back to Vivi. “Because it matters how I was dressed that night Matt whistled at me?”

  Vivi’s whole face changes. “No, no. I wasn’t saying that.” She stops and looks off into the distance.

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Maybe. I didn’t even know I thought that. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I lift a shoulder. “I know,” and, as I say it, I realize I actually do. This afternoon, talking with girls and women of all ages, dressed all kinds of ways, in all different bodies helped move that understanding from my brain to my heart. “And yeah, I don’t hate the idea of dressing up and looking pretty. But that doesn’t mean I want guys to holler at me or that I don’t care about my friends or that I’m going to stop answering questions in math.”

  “Why would you?” Prisha asks.

  “And even if I start wearing makeup or skirts or whatever more often, we’ll still be best friends,” I say, looking at Vivi. “And we’ll take coding together and sit by each other at lunch next year, and Prisha too—if she wants.”

  “I do!” Prisha says. She smiles a little mischievously. “I wouldn’t mind sitting by Knox. He’s gotten super cute all of a sudden.”

  I stare at Prisha, trying to figure out if she’s serious.

  “Careful, Prisha. Lilla doesn’t like that,” Vivi says. “She might take back your invitation.”

  “I’m sure she’s just thinking about the best way to set me up with her childhood friend. Who she has no interest in,” Prisha says.

  “Fine,” I say, giving in. “I had a little crush on Knox. But I’m over it. Or I will be. Any minute now.”

  “You’re definitely not over it,” Vivi says. “I was worried for Prisha’s health and safety just now.”

  “My dad would have a fit if I started…” My voice trails off. Because what would I call it? I like Knox, but I don’t think I’m ready to date.

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be such a big deal,” Vivi says. “You could hang out, the two of you sometime, let him walk you home, and maybe, if you’re lucky, kiss you goodnight.”

  Prisha sighs, caught in the daydream. But I’ve been friends with Vivi a long time. There’s more in her voice. She’s not talking about me and Knox.

  I can’t keep the smile from breaking across my whole face. Like it was my first kiss. “Vivian. Did you and Colby…?”

  Vivi’s grin is as wide as mine. “Yesterday.”

  I can’t believe something this big happened and she went the whole day without telling me. “Do you feel different?”

  “No, I feel the same. It was fun though. You should only do it if you want to, but avoiding boys like Knox won’t keep away boys like Matt. He didn’t whistle at you because you were giving off some secret I-like-someone signal or because you were wearing pretty clothes. You can want to kiss Knox without it meaning anything to anyone else.”

  “Maybe,” I say.

  “Either way, you need to decide what to do. Because he’s going to say something. Soon. You can say no, but be nice.”

  “I don’t think he’s about to say anything. I kind of…took care of that,” I say.

  “Uh-oh,” Prisha says, looking at Vivi. “You’re too late.”

  “Lilla,” Vivi says, scolding me. This is where it gets complicated that Knox is her friend too.

  They both stare at me in silence until I break. “We were sitting on top of the monkey bars at the museum?”

  They nod, waiting for me to say more.

  “And he might have reached for my hand,” I whisper.

  “Might have?” Vivi says.

  “How can you not know?” Prisha adds.

  “Well, I threw myself to the ground before it became totally clear.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Conditions

  Mom texts in the morning asking me to meet her and Dad for breakfast. The good news is leaving early ends Vivi and Prisha’s teasing. They bonded last night by flinging themselves to the ground whenever I brushed up against either one of them.

  My friends are very hilarious.

  Mom and Dad sit facing each other at a table by the window, forcing me to choose who to sit next to. I pick Mom. I am not thrilled that she wants to move to Chicago, but at least I get where she’s coming from, and she told me before she did it.

  I say good morning and hide behind the menu.

  “We ordered for you. Sorry,” Mom says, but it doesn’t seem like she means it. She pushes a glass of orange juice over.

  “It’s fine.” I mean, I eat the same thing every single time we come here, but still, it’s nice to be asked.

  “We’re worried about you,” Dad says.

  “Will,” Mom breaks in.

  “Kara,” he echoes. “We agreed this was a problem.” They’re completely focused on each other. I might as well not be here.

  “Just to be clear,” I say into their silence, “we’re here today so you can tell me your problems? With me?” I can’t believe this. I wasn’t looking forward to this talk, but I did think it was going to start with apologies. From them.

  “Not problems,” Dad says. “Concerns.”

  “Oh, well then.”

  Mom’s eyebrows go up. My sarcasm is a surprise. She exchanges a look with Dad.

  “This is what I’m talking about,” Dad says to her. Then to me, “You haven’t been yourself lately. You’re moody. You dress up and come back crying. You misled us about which program you were applying to for the magnet school, and I don’t think you’ve done any work to prepare for the showcase. For either track. Maybe it’s the divorce or maybe it’s that you’re about to be a teenager, but either way, this isn’t working.”

  I’m surprised when relief follows the stab of hurt his words cause. I didn’t expect to be grateful they are finally seeing through all my fake smiles. But I am.

  “It’s been a rough couple of day
s, and even before, I’m not sure that—”

  Mom cuts me off before I can say that bird-nesting isn’t working for me. “We’re sorry if we made you feel like we’d be disappointed with either magnet program.”

  Oh. Of course, this is what they’re thinking about.

  “Both the arts and STEM programs have great track records getting kids into outstanding universities. You choose whichever path seems right for you.”

  “Absolutely,” Dad says. “I apologize if I made you feel like focusing on science wasn’t an appropriate choice. You know I respect what your mother does.”

  He looks at Mom.

  “What?” she says. “Lilla knows I respect you.”

  “That’s not the same. When you introduced me at parties, you used to say, ‘This is Will. He studies coloring in.’”

  “Which you do,” she says, smiling.

  I can’t listen anymore. Even when they’re worried about me it’s about themselves. How it makes them look as parents. What it says about their jobs.

  “I’m not here to prove you’re a good parent,” I say.

  They both stop.

  “Or to make you feel good about yourselves or give you stories to talk about with your colleagues…or girlfriends.”

  Dad lowers his eyes. “I am sorry for not giving you a heads-up about that.”

  I shake it off. “I don’t want to go to the magnet school. I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up, but I don’t want the life you have. Either of you.”

  “What do you mean?” Dad asks.

  “I don’t want to work all the time. I don’t want everything to be a competition. I don’t want to have to focus on one ridiculously small thing and cut everything else out of my life. I want to go to a regular school and take all kinds of classes and do color guard and art club and robotics and have friends and not worry about whether I score in the ninety-fifth or ninety-sixth percentile on some test because of what that means for my future.”

  “Color guard?” Dad says.

  Why does everyone get caught up on that part?

  Mom takes my hand. “I understand you’re angry, but throwing away your future to punish us doesn’t make sense.”