Sunday, December 10
Tris and I got together to do homework, but within 10 minutes we were discussing Reese and Zach, and somehow from there we segued into speculating about which musical Miss Murphy will choose, Googling “most popular high school musicals” and watching clips of old movies on YouTube.
“Are those bangs, or is the front section of her hair curled into, like, a tube?” I said, watching Judy Garland sing on a trolley.
“There’s no way Murphy would pick this show,” Tris said. “The chorus disappears for hours at a time.”
“Maybe she’ll blow our minds and go with something really modern.”
“No way. It’ll probably be Guys and Dolls or On the Town. Can’t you take a quick peek at her email and see if you can find anything?”
“ ‘A quick peek at her email’?” I said. “Are you serious?”
“If her phone’s lying on the counter or something. I’m not saying you should go through her bag.”
“I wish Hannah were here,” I said. “She would love to hear this suggestion. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. You’d be the lead even if you sang the ABCs for your audition song. I’m the one who should be sweating it.”
“This year will be different,” Tris said. “I’m not worried for you.”
“I don’t even care,” I said. “If I’m in the chorus, I’ll get to spend more time hanging out with Grady.” But of course that’s not true. I care a ton.
Monday, December 11
Reese came up to me and Grady in the hall and gave us both long hugs.
“You guys heard what happened, right?” she said.
We nodded.
“With me and Zach?” she added, which, since we’d just nodded, made us seem like Reese obsessives who assume every question has to do with her, and not, say, national politics or world events.
“Are you OK?” I said.
“I’m devastated, but it was the right decision,” she said. “We weren’t meant to be.” She formed a heart with her thumbs and index fingers and then broke it apart while pouting. She didn’t seem that devastated to me. Truly crushed people don’t pout cutely.
“Can I just tell you something?” she said, and grabbed one of my arms and one of Grady’s. “You guys are fully my couple inspiration. You seem so in love and happy. Are you?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. If I sounded unsure, it was because (a) I was not prepared for Grady’s ex-girlfriend to ask a question like that and (b) Reese is constantly working an angle, and I didn’t know what this one was. Would I fall into her trap if I said yes, or no?
Grady leaned sideways and tapped my head with his. “Chloe’s not bad,” he said. “I think it’s going OK.”
Reese said, “You’re adorable together. Seriously, adorable,” and walked away while blowing us a kiss.
I turned to Grady. “ ‘Not bad’? ‘Going OK’?”
“What?”
“Why would you say that??”
“I was joking!”
I gave him an outraged look.
He said, “It’s funny because it’s obviously an understatement! You were just telling me a fancy word for that, like, a week ago!”
“Litotes.”
“Yeah!”
“Litotes would be the ‘not bad’ part,” I said. “Because it’s a negative expressing . . . Forget it! Don’t you see that Reese is going to think you’re not actually into me?”
“Chloe, come on.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Chloe,” he said.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”
And it’s probably not. I’m being paranoid.
Tuesday, December 12
I went to find Grady at his locker, and who should be there but Reese, kneeling at his feet, looking through his backpack. “Hey!” she said when she saw me. “I’m stealing gum.” She found his Eclipse and popped out a rectangle. “Thanks, buddy,” she said, and gave him a high five. On her way down the hall, she called, “See you guys!”
My heart was racing, but I tried to sound calm. “That was weird,” I said.
Grady was checking his phone. “Mmm.”
“Asking for gum? Pretty flirty.”
He slipped his phone into his back pocket and shrugged. “She probably has built-up flirting power now that she’s not with Zach, and she’s discharging it randomly.”
“Uh-huh.”
He put his arm around me. “You’re not worried, are you?”
I didn’t want to sound pathetic. “Nah,” I said.
He kept looking into my face, like he was giving me time to tell him the truth, but I didn’t.
Wednesday, December 13
Miss Murphy drove me to the mall so I could do my Christmas shopping. It was quiet in the car, and for once it wasn’t because I was feeling awkward around her. This time I was silently ruminating about Reese.
I really doubt she’d want to get back together with Grady. It wouldn’t be on-brand. If only for the sake of her Instagram flow, she has to move ever upward in her dude selection. First a cute underclassman (Grady), then a hot upperclassman (Zach), now what? A college kid, probably.
Besides, even if she did want him back . . . he’d say no, right?
I think he would.
I’m almost positive he would.
Anyway, why am I freaking out? She took a piece of gum out of his backpack. It’s not like she’s giving him slow up-and-down looks while biting her lip or, like, sexting him.
Thursday, December 14
In the library there’s a poster of a dog looking scared. Along the bottom it reads, JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE PARANOID DOESN’T MEAN THEY AREN’T AFTER YOU—Joseph Heller, Catch-22. I’ve always thought it’s an odd and depressing choice for a school library, but today I realized I should have been soaking in its wisdom all along.
Reese sat with me and Grady at lunch. Plopped down onto the seat next to him like it was no big deal, even though her squad members were at their usual table in the back, waiting for her, keeping her central spot open. I saw them looking over at us with interest.
“Mind if I join you lovebirds?” she said, smiling.
“Not at all,” I said. I’m so scared of her, that’s the thing. She’s a poisonous snake. She could sink her fangs into me at any moment. I want her to like me, even though I can’t stand her.
“How’s it going?” Grady said, and took a big bite of his turkey sandwich.
“It’s hard,” she said. “I’d already gotten Zach a Christmas present. I saw it in my closet yesterday and, like, burst into tears.” She bit into a baby carrot and smiled at Grady. “Remember what I gave you last Christmas?” She elbowed him in the ribs, then looked across the table at me. “Sorry, Chloe. I forgot you were sitting there!”
I’m not imagining things. She wants him back.
Friday, December 15
Chloe: Tell me what she gave you for Christmas
Grady: No
Chloe: GRADY
Grady: NO
It’s nothing bad
But it’s one of those things you don’t want to picture
Like I don’t want to picture certain things you did with Mac
You know?
Chloe: Don’t drag Mac into this
Grady: Ugh sorry didn’t mean to pick on your precious Mac
Chloe: He’s not my precious anything! Don’t turn this around
Grady: Sorry I’m just frustrated
Chloe: The longer we talk about this the worse it gets
Grady: I agree so let’s stop
Chloe: We can as soon as you tell me
Grady: Lingerie
Chloe: ?
Grady: She came over in
Wait no
It’s such a bad idea to tell you this
Chloe: You can’t stop now
Grady: She came over in her winter coat and she was naked underneath except for her bra and panties
Chloe: What did they look like?
&nb
sp; Grady: UGHHHHH
Red with white fur
Like Santa I guess
Honestly it was cheesy and I was embarrassed
Chloe: I’m sure
Grady: Whatever it’s the truth Chloe
I shouldn’t have made him tell me. I knew that even before I did it. He’s right: now I can’t stop picturing Reese unzipping her coat, sliding it off, and smiling at him with her hands on her hips, watching him watch her. I wonder if he looked shocked, or excited, or overwhelmed. I wonder if he said, “Oh my God,” or “You’re so beautiful,” or “C’mere.” I know they didn’t have sex, but I bet they did everything else.
Googling “Victoria’s Secret christmas lingerie santa” was another stupid idea.
Saturday, December 16
Chloe: Am I still coming over to help decorate the tree?
Grady: Do you want to?
Chloe: Yeah I guess
Grady: Then come I guess
We barely looked at each other when I got to his house. Mrs. Trevor noticed something was up, and she tried to lighten the mood by passing out green hats with felt elf ears sewn onto the sides. Grady and I put them on, but nothing changed. We were still two kids in a fight, not smiling, refusing to make eye contact. The only difference was that now we looked like angry elves. Bear sang, “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg,” and then glanced at me with a shy, proud smile. Mr. Trevor sat on the couch looking at his phone, ignoring all of us.
Mrs. Trevor didn’t even comment when we marched upstairs to Grady’s bedroom. She must have known we were going to fight, not mess around.
I sat on his desk chair. He leaned against the bureau and crossed his arms.
“Are you this mad about the Santa thing?” he said.
“The lingerie thing,” I said. “And no.”
“We’ve both dated other people,” he said. “What do you want me to do, build a time machine?”
“I want you to admit that Reese likes you again.”
“I really don’t—”
“Admit it!”
“Fine! She likes me again!”
Silence. Grady pulled a tissue from the box on his bureau and started ripping it into tiny pieces. I thought I’d feel better as soon as I got him to acknowledge the obvious truth, but I felt worse.
Grady stopped destroying the tissue and looked at me. “She can’t magically . . . do anything.”
“She can, though.”
“Like what, hypnotize me?”
“Yes!”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit, dude.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude,’ dude.”
Immediately I regretted snapping at him. He’s right: she can’t use mind control to make him dump me. And I can’t start fighting with him because I’m stressed about this. That’s exactly what she wants to make me do.
I stood up, walked over to him, and leaned my forehead against his collarbone. “I’m sorry I was texting you mean things yesterday.”
“It’s OK.” He sighed and rubbed my back. “Nothing bad is happening.”
“I know. I know.”
We stood there without talking for a while. Downstairs, Bear screamed, “Santa IS a snowman, I promise you!” Neither of us laughed—that’s how somber the mood was.
Sunday, December 17
No. No no no no no no no. This isn’t what I think it is.
Miss Murphy isn’t pregnant.
Monday, December 18
I’m imagining things.
Yesterday she made oatmeal for breakfast. Nothing unusual about that; it’s what she always has. But when it was ready, she looked down at it, took a sharp breath in through her nostrils, and scraped it into the organics bin.
That’s all my evidence. It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she was upset about her mom or something that happened at school and she lost her appetite.
Tuesday, December 19
She threw up this morning.
Wednesday, December 20
“Do you think I’m overreacting?” I asked Grady.
We were in my bed with the duvet pulled all the way over our heads. It was stifling, but I didn’t want to see the world.
“No. It’s a big deal. I hated the idea of Bear at first. But that’s before I knew he was Bear. Once you see the baby and get to know him, it’ll be different.”
“Or her,” I said.
“Right,” he said. “Or her.”
“Maybe she’s not even pregnant,” I said.
“Yeah, totally,” he said. He sounded kind, which meant he thought there was no way she wasn’t pregnant.
I kissed him. Silver lining: obsessing about Miss Murphy’s reproductive status has blotted out my fixation on Reese and made things normal between me and Grady.
“Should I ask them about it?” I said.
“I’d say no. They probably want to wait to be sure it sticks before they tell you.”
“Oh. Right.”
I didn’t think about the chance that Miss Murphy could have a miscarriage. Of course I don’t wish for that. It would be terrible for her, and anyway, it would only delay the inevitable. If she and my dad want to have a baby, they’ll have one.
But I don’t want them to have one. My dad doesn’t even like me anymore. If he’s comparing me to a baby who’s too young to sass him or stomp up the stairs when she’s mad, he’ll really start to hate me.
“Hey, I heard some news you’ll like,” Grady said.
“Go on.”
“Elliott got it from Lianna, so you know it’s real.”
“Tell me!”
“Reese is going to Europe with her parents for two weeks.”
“WHAT?”
“Yep. All of winter break plus the next week. She won’t be back until the eighth or something.”
I flung the duvet off of us and bounced up and down on the bed on my knees.
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” I said.
“Told you you’d like it!”
What a relief, knowing I can relax and let my guard down for HALF A MONTH!
Thursday, December 21
Miss Murphy’s started eating dry cereal for breakfast. Not even something grown-ups pretend to like, such as Kashi. FROOT LOOPS. Case closed. If you’re in your mid-30s, you don’t eat half a box of Froot Loops in the morning unless you’re knocked up.
When we were all at the beach last summer, I thought I’d kind of like it if Miss Murphy moved in. More company for me. More noise around the house. It was abstract then. Now she’s here, and it’s too concrete. The smells! I didn’t think of the smells. I’m used to my parents’ gross smells, but I can’t handle a stranger’s. It’s not that she’s a stinky person. She’s normal. But normal people have coffee breath. They fart when they think no one’s about to walk into the room, and then someone does. ME. If they have morning sickness, they barf in the closest bathroom they can find, and a few minutes later an innocent teenager walks in to get a Kleenex, smells vomit, and almost throws up herself. And what’s a baby going to smell like??
Friday, December 22
I went to Grady’s to see Bear, because I love Bear, and I wanted to remind myself that having a much younger sibling could be fun. Unfortunately, he was in a terrible mood (Mrs. Trevor said he hadn’t napped, which I guess is a big problem) and he had a meltdown when Grady asked him if he wanted Pirate’s Booty or Goldfish for his snack. “I CAN’T CHOOSE!” he screamed, and lay facedown on the floor, weeping until he’d made a little puddle under his eyes. When Grady tried to pick him up, he reared back violently and smashed Grady’s chin with the back of his head, which made him cry harder. Poor little guy. I know this was one bad hour, not a harbinger of my future. I’ve read too many books, that’s the problem. I’m seeing portents where there are none.
Maybe it’ll be a girl and I can teach her how to . . . What girly stuff do I know how to do? I’m terrible at braiding my hair and doing my makeup. I’m good at reading. OK, I can read to her. Or him. I could also read to a
boy. What do boys like? Trucks?
It’s a moot point. By the time this kid is one, I’ll be leaving for college.
So I’ll leave for school and Dad will start all over again and redo his whole life, but correctly this time? He’ll have a wife who doesn’t seethe at him and a son or daughter who will probably grow up to be fascinated by the law and math? God, the thought makes me want to kick him in the nuts. I should be enough for him.
Saturday, December 23
According to her Instagram, Reese is currently boarding a plane bound for Rome! She’ll be away for 14 glorious days! For two whole weeks, she can’t take Grady’s gum, remind him of past sexytimes, give him coy little looks, or hit on him in any way. I feel so free!
Sunday, December 24
Went to Mom’s to exchange presents. There was a sad little tree in the corner, and she was playing Bing Crosby from her phone—she doesn’t have real speakers. She got me some clothes that look like things she’d wear. I got her a memoir by some lady who loves yoga. We talked about current events. It was horrible from beginning to end, in other words.
Monday, December 25
Seriously, I’m the most self-absorbed, clueless, whiny person on planet Earth.
We went to Woodcrest in the morning after opening presents. I wasn’t going to go, but when I said I was kind of tired and wanted to stay home, Dad looked so angry and disappointed that I felt ashamed and went to change out of my pajamas.
When we got there, Mrs. Murphy was sitting in an armchair under a heavy blanket, reading a book. She looked strange, which at first I thought was because she was so thin, or because she was wearing a fleece hat, but which I eventually realized was because she had no eyebrows or eyelashes. The chemo, of course. I’m embarrassed to say it, but I didn’t want to get close to her. I couldn’t believe it when Dad and Miss Murphy went right up to her and kissed her cheek like it was no big deal.
Notes from a Former Virgin Page 10
