“It’s good that I’m going,” she said. “I need to be far away so that I can dig deep. I will never lose my temper like that again. Never. I promise you that.”
That old, familiar line. “Bon voyage,” I said. Noelle would have been proud of me. I wasn’t even close to letting my mask slip.
I could tell she was going to lunge toward me for another hug, so I turned and walked back to my room before she could make a move. She called “I love you” in a disgustingly quavering voice, and then I heard the door close and lock.
Monday, July 2
This isn’t what I thought it would be. I imagined my month alone as nonstop, gross fun: peeing with the bathroom door open, listening to my most offensive music at top volume, having sex with Grady in every corner of the condo, walking around naked, ordering junky groceries Mom would never buy (Cheetos, fruit snacks, ice cream that’s mostly cut-up candy bars). I haven’t done any of those things. I went to work. I read a little while I scratched Snickers’s neck. I ate a PB&J for dinner. I’m feeling somber and sorry for myself.
Tuesday, July 3
It’s scary, being here alone. Not that I want my mother around. But the rooms are so quiet I can hear my ears ringing. Every time someone walks by the front door, my heart seizes up and I freeze until I’m sure the sound I heard is a neighbor heading down the stairs, not a murderer lurking outside waiting to pounce on me.
Going to work this morning was a relief. I texted Mrs. Franco and offered to do a double, but she said she was covered for the day. I wrote back saying I’ll take as many extra shifts as she can give me for the rest of the month, and she sent me back the thumbs-up emoji.
Hannah was busy with a youth group meeting. Tris and Elliott were going to Elliott’s house for dinner, but I begged them to come over for a little while in the afternoon, and they took pity on me and said yes.
“Thank God you’re here,” I said when they arrived. I was trying to sound amusingly over the top, but it must not have worked, because Tris didn’t smile.
“Come stay with me for the month,” he said.
“No, no,” I said. Of course I’m dying to stay with him, but his mother would feel sorry for me, and I couldn’t handle that.
“Then go to your dad’s house,” Tris said. “I can’t believe he’s letting you stay here alone anyway.”
“He doesn’t know my mom’s gone. He’d freak.”
“So tell him!”
“Maybe I will,” I said.
We hung out for a while, and then off they went to dinner, heading to a happy house where a mother would call them “honey” or “sweetie” and offer them seconds, and probably dessert.
Wednesday, July 4
Dad’s annual BBQ. He called to ask if I wanted a ride over, and I said, “No, thanks. You must be busy getting ready. I can ride my bike.”
“That would be great, if you’re sure.”
I took my time getting off the phone. I was expecting him to hear it in my voice, that I’m alone in the condo, that Mom’s run off again, but of course he didn’t. He’s not a mind reader.
When I arrived, I snuck around to the back instead of going inside to say hello. My friends came early, and we got food and spread out a blanket in a quiet corner of the yard.
“I think we’re set for Friday,” Noelle said. “I got the sparklers. You ordered the sunglasses, right? Oh, be sure to clean out the fridge to make room for booze.”
“Good one,” I said, and made a note on my phone.
“You were right, by the way,” Noelle said. “Telling everyone early was smart. It built buzz. I heard some college kids might even come.”
“Will it be too many people?” Elliott said. “What if they destroy the apartment?” He’s so nice.
Noelle waved her plastic fork to dismiss his worries. “I’m good at kicking people out.”
“Zach’s out of town the whole week,” Hannah said, “so he can’t come, which is too bad, because he’d be a big help.”
I nodded, not really listening.
“Is it upsetting to hear me talk about Zach?” Hannah asked. “Sorry! I was forgetting about—I was forgetting.”
Grady. She meant Grady, who hadn’t texted me or called me or even talked to me at work beyond saying hi and bye. I remembered Noelle’s advice and pinched some skin on my palm.
“Glad you could make it, Chloe.” It was my father, who’d appeared beside our blanket wearing an apron that read KING OF THE GRILL. I hadn’t technically said hi to him, but here I was eating his excellent potato salad. I scrambled to my feet and gave him a hug. My friends called up, “Hi, Mr. Snow” and “Thanks for having us.”
“Marian would like to say hello, if you have a moment?” Dad said to me. I don’t think he used to be this polite, but I can’t say for sure. I followed him over to the hydrangea bushes, where Miss Murphy was standing in a circle of people, saying, “Nothing but flip-flops. I can’t reach my feet, but even if I could, they’re way too swollen to cram into regular shoes.” When she saw me, she put an arm around me and said, “And here’s the big sister!” She turned slightly away from the group to show people we were going to talk to each other.
“Should you be standing?” I said. I’d looked down at her feet when she mentioned them, and they were shocking: like two loaves of bread someone had painted Havaianas onto.
“Probably not,” she said, and bit into a hot dog. “I don’t think I should be eating this either, but what the hell.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I defaulted to “How are you feeling?” which seemed safe.
“Happy! I love being pregnant. It’s so interesting. I wish it would go on forever. Which it probably will. I saw my OB yesterday, and she said nothing’s happening. No dilation, no effacement, nothing. She’s going to induce me on July 24 if I don’t go into labor on my own before then, so stick around, OK?”
“OK.”
How strange to think that on July 25 I’ll be a big sister, and there’ll be a baby living in my dad’s house. I can’t imagine it. Will I have to change the baby’s diapers when I go over there? Will it, like, barf on me? Will I be interested in it, or will it seem unrelated to me?
Thursday, July 5
I went up to Grady at work and said, “You’re still invited tomorrow night, you know.” He was sitting next to Reese on the lifeguard chair, so it was really outrageously rude that I didn’t speak to her, look at her, or acknowledge her in any way.
“Uh, thanks,” he said.
I watched him and Reese openly for the rest of the afternoon. It didn’t look like they were flirting, but whatever. Flirt. Get back together. Screw on Grady’s striped towel. I can take all of it.
I can’t wait to destroy Reese in front of everyone tomorrow night. I’ve never cared less. I hope the condo is overrun with everyone from my school and dozens of kids from other towns and cities and colleges. Neighbors calling the police? That’s nothing. I hope there are so many kids the condo building collapses.
Friday, July 6
The party’s starting in a few hours. I was feeling nervous, so I went and looked in my mother’s closet to remind myself of her and how much I hate her and how satisfying it will be if all her new stuff gets ruined. Noelle’s on her way over. Let’s do this, Snow.
Saturday, July 7
I can’t possibly write about everything that happened in one entry. And I can’t possibly write about anything at all now, since I’ve hardly slept in 36 hours. Goodbye.
Sunday, July 8
The party started at 9 p.m. and for half an hour, maybe 40 minutes, it seemed like no one was going to show up but the Six (Five) and a few sophomores I sort of recognized who were perched on the edge of my mom’s couch, whispering to each other. I was panicking. For one thing, Noelle had talked me into wearing nothing but white cowboy boots, an American flag bikini top, and cutoffs so tight you could see the outline of my bike lock key through the left pocket. I felt exposed and ridiculous. More importantly, where was everyone? It
would be impossible to publicly humiliate Reese if there wasn’t a public.
Then, like they’d pulled up in a bus, a huge group of seniors poured in. Then half our class. Then some guys with actual beards—alums, I guess. Noelle stood by the door. “I’ll yell to you as soon as I see Reese,” she said. “Go have fun.”
And oh, I had fun. Somehow I’d implemented my plan: this WAS better than prom. It was the best party I’d ever seen in real life. The lights were off. The music was on. Everyone had observed my dress code. There were red shorts, white halter tops, blue button-downs. There was a star-covered jumpsuit. Some people were wearing sparkly pom-poms sprouting out of headbands. One guy had on a giant Uncle Sam hat. The near-costumes gave people an easy topic of conversation. “I like your Captain America shirt!” “Stars and stripes leggings—so cute!” It was like I’d accidentally provided an icebreaker. More kids arrived, and more, and more. A serious and disgusting dance zone developed in the kitchen—it looked like actual intercourse was going to take place through people’s shorts.
I drank a beer and wanted to keep going, but I couldn’t make it two steps toward the kitchen without someone stopping me for a high five or a hug. A college kid I’ve never seen in my life shook my hand and said, “This is epic, madam.” A senior named Isaac kissed my bare stomach after asking my permission. Every girl I saw complimented me on my bikini top, which I didn’t take too seriously—sometimes giving compliments is a way of covering up your shock—but by this point I was happy to be shocking everyone. When Izzy arrived, wearing blue soccer shorts and a red T-shirt, I made a huge fuss over her and insisted we pose for a series of selfies. Nadia threw herself on me, probably to show the two friends she’d brought how close we were, and presented me with a tiara covered in red, white, and blue plastic gemstones. When I put it on, people cheered.
Around 11 p.m., I made it to my room to check on Snickers and found Hannah hiding in there with Tris and Elliott. “What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“Just taking a break,” Elliott said.
I leaned down and spotted Snickers under my bed, looking wary but not terrified.
“Break time is over,” I said, clapping my hands together. They stood up immediately and followed me back to the living room. I was heading toward the kitchen when Nadia said, “Chloe, Noelle’s trying to find you.”
I shouldered through the crowd like a defensive lineman, looking back to make sure my friends were right with me. I knew why Noelle wanted me. Reese had to be at the door. My heart boomed. My life might be in tatters and my soul might be a lump of coal, but I’d seized power, and I was going to hold on to it.
When I got to the door, Reese was saying “This is so ridiculous” to Noelle, who was smiling like the Mona Lisa. Reese was wearing white shorts and a sheer American flag tank top that revealed her blue bralette. She had one measly squaddie by her side: Harper, who was pressed against the railing behind her like someone had backed her up at knifepoint.
“What’s going on?” I asked Noelle, adjusting my tiara.
“She wants to come in,” Noelle said, gesturing at Reese. I’d imagined the scene wrong: there was no crowd. Everyone was too busy having the time of their lives inside to pay attention to new people arriving. But it was better this way. The party sounded like a tornado behind me. Reese was physically straining toward it.
“Sorry, we’re at capacity,” I said.
At that moment five strangers carrying a keg arrived at the top of the stairs, lifted their chins in greeting, and pushed past me into the condo.
“Looks like you can squeeze in a few more,” said Reese.
“Yeah, I can, but you’re not coming in. Leave,” I said. Noelle giggled. I could feel Tris, Elliott, and Hannah stiffening in surprise behind me.
Then Reese started crying. Tears filled her eyes and her mouth got jagged. “You’re mean,” she said. “You’re so mean.”
All the air went out of me. I felt like I was watching the Wicked Witch melt into a puddle. The evil one, suddenly revealed to be vulnerable, even pitiable. And of course, Reese isn’t evil, and she’s not a witch or a dictator. She’s a high school kid. Yeah, flawed, selfish, sometimes awful. She’s not perfect; fine. Neither am I. That doesn’t mean either of us deserves abuse.
Seeing her cry, I realized I’d done something truly cruel—I’d told another girl to leave, I’d humiliated her—and I’d done it in cold blood. I’d planned it for weeks. I’d said this terrible thing and I hadn’t even felt nervous while I was saying it. I’d had so much practice being icy, I was getting used to it. I was turning into a statue, like Noelle said I should. What kind of stone-hearted monster tells someone to leave without her pulse speeding up? I didn’t want to be a statue! Was it too late? Could I turn back into myself, or the myself that I used to be before I intentionally trashed all the goodness that was in me?
I turned around to look at my friends. They looked at me, scared. SCARED. Of me!
When I turned back, Reese was running down the stairs, trailed by Harper.
“Reese!” I called, and started to follow her.
Noelle stopped me. “Where do you think you’re going?” she said.
“To apologize,” I said.
“Don’t weaken,” she said. “You just did it. Now stick with it. Enjoy it! Go have a drink.”
Reese was getting away. I tried to push past Noelle, but she stood in my path.
“I don’t want to be like this, Noelle,” I said.
“This is only the beginning,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” It felt urgent to have it out with her, even if it meant I couldn’t apologize to Reese. “Stop blocking the door. I won’t leave. Tell me what you mean.”
Without discussing it, the five of us stepped out of the doorway and onto the balcony that runs along the length of the building. It was hot and dark outside.
Noelle glanced at my tiara and said, “Why do you think you lost prom queen?”
“Because Izzy won.”
“Yes, because you and Reese split votes, exactly like I told you you would. And why is that? Because you’re both mean girls.” She raised her right palm. “Some people voted for this mean girl.” She raised her left palm. “Some people voted for this one.”
It made me feel sick, listening to her. My phone rang. I reached into my back pocket and declined the call without looking.
Noelle was staring at me intently. “Saying ‘ew’ to Reese in the hall, excluding people from our conversations, flaunting our plans, deciding you hate Lianna for no reason, doing Pink Vans Wednesdays—you know what all of that was, right? Listen, I’m not criticizing you. I’m proud of you! You won! But you did it like every other popular person in history has done it. You got mean! I just want you to face the facts, because you have to keep it up now. You have to get meaner. You know how Reese kicked people out of the squad every so often and then brought them back in? You have to do that.” I looked at Hannah and Tristan and Elliott. They looked back at me like they’d been sentenced to execution. My phone buzzed. I ignored it. Noelle kept going. “You have to start rumors. You have to ostracize random people in our grade and get everyone to hate them. You have to make everyone so scared you’ll turn on them next that they fawn all over you. You have to be like a reality-TV producer—make drama out of nothing. Create conflict. No one will ever challenge you if you put on a good enough show.”
She didn’t look demented. She looked as calm as she always does. She is the scariest person I think I’ve ever met. But who am I to judge—I’ve been scaring everyone around me, including my best friends, who now wouldn’t look me in the eye. Noelle was right. Making Reese leave? That was only more of what I’d been dishing out since the cafeteria incident. I’d displaced the AP kids! I’d refused to let Tris campaign for prom king! A thousand horrible memories washed over me. Just minutes ago I’d casually ordered my friends back to the party like some kind of despot. I’d been treating them like shit for months, and now here the
y were, waiting to see what I’d say in response to all the truth Noelle had told me. Tris and Elliott were holding hands. Hannah was holding her own two hands tightly. And Grady. Grady wasn’t there, because I’d been such an idiot. He’d tried—in a gentle, sensitive way!—to tell me I’d turned into a demon, and I’d disappeared on him because I couldn’t face the facts. Instead of listening to him, I’d chosen to marinate in my own delusion like a big sick steak. I’d pretended what I was doing wasn’t that bad. I’d told myself Reese deserved everything she got. I made believe I’d only wanted to protect Hannah. All lies.
My phone buzzed again. “I think I have to go,” I said.
Noelle narrowed her eyes. “You said you’re not leaving, and you’re not,” she said. “I made red, white, and blue Jell-O shots, and you’re handing them out at midnight.”
“Listen, Noelle, you’re right: I got mean. And you didn’t force me to do it. I did it all by myself. I’m sure it’ll take me months to go back to normal, or maybe I never will. But I have to try.”
She scoffed. “What, do you think you’re being noble or something? You can’t change the system by stepping down. If it’s not you at the top, it’ll be someone else just as bad or worse. It could be Reese again.”
“You’re right,” I said. Maybe it was my calm tone that made her angry.
“Do you understand how much work I’ve put into you?” she said. “And all of you,” she said, turning to Hannah, Tris, and Elliott. “You would be invisible without me.” She looked at me again. “You promised me this would not happen. You said you’d take my advice.”
I pulled off my tiara. “I’m abdicating.”
It’s not like I’m the queen of England. I do realize that. I’m nobody, as my mom likes to remind me. We weren’t royals discussing regime change on some vast estate; we were a bunch of kids in an unimportant suburb sweating on a concrete balcony. Still, what I’d said meant something to me, and maybe it did to the others, too, because I heard at least one quiet gasp.
Notes from a Former Virgin Page 25
