Pushing Send

by Ally Derby

  “You don’t mind, do you, Hadley? Pax can take you home. It’s okay, right?”

  “Sure.” I smile and look down. I am becoming less and less nervous around Pax and enjoying more and more of our conversations without anyone around.

  Lana is busy looking through dresses on her phone and talking about Joey “Freaking” White for the entire ride to Dr. Jamison’s medical office where Lana’s mom is the office manager. Pax barely has time to stop the car outside the building before Lana is jumping out.

  “Call you later. Love you, Hadley. Love you, Pax. Mwah!” She slams the door.

  Pax pushes his aviators on top of his head, then leans over to open the door. “You gonna stay back there or get up here?”

  I climb out of the backseat and then slide into the front.

  He pulls out of the parking lot and looks over at me, his glasses back over his eyes. “You figure out who you are yet?”

  “Actually I think I’ve figured everyone else out.”

  “Really?” He chuckles. “Let’s hear it.”

  I take a deep breath, then look over at him and sigh.

  “You can trust me, Hadley. I was hoping I had proved that already.”

  “Well, I know Bee and Skylar have always gone to our school. They are best friends, but have a different group of friends, as well. Skylar moved here in sixth grade, but always hung around with Bee. I’ve never really gotten to know either of them outside of school besides sketching in the park, but from what I’ve seen, Bee is a serious fangirl. She’s always wearing tee shirts with fandom references and those sorts of things. She wears nerdy glasses that look like Stuart from The Internship. Lana, Bee, Skylar, and I sit together at lunch, and I feel comfortable with them, but still a little on the outside of their circle.

  “Bee is a total firecracker. She’s sweet and shy in front of teachers, adults, and people she has to please, but when she’s not around them, she’s crazy. She’s super funny and kind of random.

  “Skylar is a little different. She is artistic and kind. She has a blog where she posts her photographs and pictures of her paintings. She has a huge following, and like, a thousand people check her blog every day. She’s top of the class, quiet, and really nice. I don’t know as much about her as I do Bee.”

  “So, is that it? No one else?” he asks, as he moves through the green light.

  I take in a deep breath, trying to give him the trust he’s asked for. He’s right; he hasn’t done anything except be nice to his little sister’s new friend.

  “There are a few main groups. There are the nerds.” He laughs, making me feel at ease and even more comfortable, so I continue. “I don’t call them that to their faces, but I honestly don’t think it’s a bad thing to be a nerd. Bee considers herself a “nerd,” and she’s awesome. To me, she seems more of a fangirl, and from what I’ve learned, fangirls are great. They don’t get wrapped up in drama; they simply read.

  “I mean, I don’t think it’s necessary to call them nerds just because they get good grades and read a lot, or maybe they wear glasses. They’re usually exceedingly nice and smart, so I have banished nerd from my classification. I call them intelligens, the Latin word for intelligent. I decided to translate the stereotypes for the groups into Latin.”

  “So that’s one of your secrets?”

  “No, I use it in a role-play, and it’s caught on.”

  “Look at the new girl starting trends.”

  “We’re all new girls online.” I think about that for a moment. “Actually, we’re not. It’s a very comfortable environment.”

  “But it kills the social skills.”

  “So they say.” I roll my eyes.

  He smirks. “Okay, so where do I fit in?”

  He plays sports. Heck, he’s the captain of the varsity basketball team. From what I have heard, he also plays football and baseball. “You’re one of the jocks.”

  “Because I play sports? You think that’s all I am?” he jokes.

  “Jocks also consist of the cheerleaders.” I smile and look away. “You all rule the school, make or break—”

  “You play sports, too, so—”

  “So nothing. I’m not a jock.” I shake my head. “Then there are the kind ones. They don’t necessarily dive face first on the ground to catch a fallen pencil for someone, but they’re the ones who would pick up said pencil and carry the books for kids on crutches. I call them amicus, the Latin word for kind. Then there are the neutrals. If I must put myself in a bubble, that’s the one I guess I would fit best in. I’m not all that smart or nice or athletic. I’m me: just a kid, just a new girl.”

  “So you’re still working on figuring yourself out then.” He smiles as he hangs a left. “Advice?”

  “Sure,” I say, knowing either way, I am going to get it.

  “Stop trying to figure everyone else out and focus on you, Hadley. Find out who you want to be and become that person.”

  “Have you figured out who you are and who you’re supposed to be?” I shoot back at him.

  “I think so. I hope so.” He nods.

  “Care to share?”

  “I want to be me.” I look over at him and he shrugs.

  Nothing more is said as we drive down Main Street, but inside, I know I wouldn’t want him to be anyone else.

  I look toward the pizza shop and see Claire with her cheerleader friends. I wave, but she doesn’t return it.

  Odd, I think to myself. Maybe she didn’t see me.

  I look over, hoping Pax didn’t see that, but of course he did.

  He shakes his head. “She’s either being a world class snob or didn’t see you. Either way, who cares, right?”

  “Right.”

  Pax pulls in his driveway and parks.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say as I start to get out.

  “I was coming this way,” he replies with a smirk.

  I step out and shut the door. “Goodnight.”

  As I’m walking away, I hear him yell, “Hey, new girl, your backpack?”

  “Right, sorry.” I hurry over and take it from him.

  He doesn’t let go until I look up at him, and then he smiles. “You know what you’re in for?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “With Lana? She’s going to be over the top about this, you know.” He pushes his glasses up on top of his head.

  The brilliant blue of his eyes never ceases to amaze me. It makes me lose my train of thought and the ability to form an intelligent sentence.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah?” He chuckles. “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” I repeat, taking my bag. “Thank you for the ride. Goodnight.”

  As I am walking away again, Pax yells, “Hey, new girl.” I can’t help smiling as I turn around. “She smiles.”

  “She does, once in a while.” I roll my eyes.

  “She should more often. Life is good, Hadley, just remember to breathe.”

  “You, too, Pax.”

  “I never forget.”

  “Well, I’m glad.”

  He holds his hand to his chest. “I think we just had a moment, new girl.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. “Breathe.”

  ~*~

  Pax was right; Lana is crazy. She isn’t role-playing on Instagram anymore; she is posting pictures of dresses, hairstyles, shoes, everything you could think of that is prom-related.

  She is also giddy, happy all the time, and spending a lot of time between classes with Joey ‘Freaking’ White. Although I miss her, along with our conversations and normal schedule, I understood and would not get jealous or put off by it. I know how she felt when I did that to her during field hockey.

  Pax messages me several times with the word ‘Breathe,’ even from the car on our way to school when she is in the passenger seat, going off on a tangent about another upcoming shopping trip with her mother. I laugh as he rolls his eyes, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  “I know, right.” Lana laughs, thinking I am laughing at her. �
�Like it bothers me that Claire bought the dress I posted last week for prom. Like I’m stupid enough to put my actual dream dress up.”

  “Smart thinking, Lana,” Pax nods to her and then looks back at me and winks.

  He winked!

  “Always thinking smart, brother.” She laughs again.

  Lana is on a high, like seriously acts as if she’s a different person, but I’m glad she’s happy. Happiness is something I feel more and more of every day. I have friends; a sport I am good at; my mother seems less intent on spreading sunshine and actually seems to be taking in the rays, enjoying the fact that I seem to be settled in here at Blue Valley; and that makes me happy, too.

  I lean back and look out the window at the crystal blue sky. It is calming, inviting, and it makes me feel the same as the way I felt the one time I saw the ocean.

  I peek back at the rearview mirror to see Pax’s glasses still sitting on top of his head. It occurs to me then that there are three things in the universe that ease my worry—the sky, the ocean, and his eyes.

  My stomach flutters at the realization, and then it turns. Pax—the boy who calls me ‘new girl,’ who seems to be around all the time, the one who helps me make sense of all my awkwardness and embarrassments—is calming to me.

  This doesn’t sit well with me. Not at all. I certainly do not want to be a girl who depends on a man for her happiness. My mother said once that Dad made her happy, so I see now it doesn’t last.

  “I can’t believe you said you’d go to prom with her.” Lana’s mood flips like a light switch. After getting over the shock in that, I feel a different kind of stomach-feeling—nausea.

  “My date moved away in December, and I didn’t really care about prom, anyway. Mom is the one pushing me to go. Claire’s date and her—”

  “She could find someone else,” she spews.

  He shakes his head and sighs. “Well, just think of it this way, Lana; we’ll be there together.”

  Like a switch, she’s back to smiling. “We’ll have great pictures.” She laughs. “And you better be nice to Joey.”

  He nudges her. “I’ll be nice, always am.”

  He is right; he is always nice.

  I am stupid for allowing myself to feel for him for more than a fleeting moment. I am not a stupid girl.

  ~*~

  We are at my mom’s shop, where her booth sits in the corner, which she is over-zealous about since “It has the most space.” She smiles every time she talks about it.

  Mom is doing four girls’ hair this morning and then, this afternoon, four more. Lana is getting hers done at her mother’s hairdresser’s; a loose up-do that settles on the left side with soft curls coming down. How do I know this? I have helped her practice all week long, every day after school.

  Pax sends texts from the next room. Breathe.

  I try to avoid him, but he is everywhere, so I try to stop feeling those emotions. He is just a boy, not the sky or the ocean, not a Greek god or the son of one. He is just Pax: my awkward potato, my best friend’s brother.

  Honestly, I couldn’t wait until prom was over so I could gain some distance from him and get my less high acting best friend back.

  Joey ‘Freaking’ White has been becoming an annoyance. His name feels like a mosquito buzzing around my ear, one that won’t go away. Joey ‘Freaking’ White. Ugh!

  I am replacing hot curlers into their case so they will be hot and ready for the next prom going beauty. I am also painting nails and handing Mom hair pins.

  The excitement of playing dress-up has always been lost on me. Why try to be something you’re not? I may lose myself in a story or a role-play on-line, but in real life, I am me: just an everyday, jean wearing girl with a braid or ponytail.

  I grab my phone from my pocket as it vibrates and am kind of shocked when I see Claire’s name pop up.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hair-mergency.” She sniffs. “Pax said your mom does hair. My hairdresser is now my ex-hairdresser. I look awful.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true, Claire. You’re beautiful,” I say in a tone that I hope comes off sincere. “Mom is booked—”

  “He said you have been doing Lana’s. Please, can you just let me stop down so you can try something? I will pay you. I am desperate, Hadley. I—”

  I rattle off the address, and she says, “See you in ten.”

  “Everything okay?”

  I look up at Mom. “Yeah, Claire is having a ‘hair-mergency.’ ” I finger quote the word. “She won’t take no for an answer.”

  “I can try to squeeze her in, or Hadley, you are more than capable of doing it.”

  “But you need my help,” I say, continuing to add curlers to the heat cradles.

  “I am sure we can work it out.”

  When Claire walks in, she looks around. Then I wave her over, and she smiles.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I tell her, as I motion to the folding chair I have set out for her. “Tell me what you hate about it. I think it looks great.”

  “It’s nothing like I wanted. I wanted it in a low bun with curls kind of to the side.”

  Oh, crap, I think to myself.

  “Are you sure? So many others have done the same thing.”

  Seeing my mom giving me a questioning look, I shake my head slightly, and she shrugs then looks away.

  “It’s really what I want.” She sighs, and I quietly pray she will change her mind. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Well, you have really nice, thick, long hair. I could do a fishtail type braid that sweeps to the side and still have the curls you want coming down. No one else has done that, and it’s pretty.”

  “You think?”

  “That’s what I would do to mine, so yeah, I think.”

  “Okay.” She shakes her head. “Okay, let’s try it.”

  Normally, that style would take me five minutes, but it needs to be full on top. I glance at the clock, knowing the longer it takes, the less likely she is to ask me to do the same style I know Lana is wearing.

  When I finish, I hold the mirror up, and she looks stunned.

  “Okay, first, I love it.” She smiles. “Absolutely love it. Second, you’re sure no one else has had their hair done like this?”

  “No one so far.” Mom smiles. “It looks amazing. Hadley, you amaze me.”

  “That was third.” Claire laughs as she holds the mirror and checks out every angle. “Why the hell do you wear a ponytail every day? You have great hair and are capable of this. Girl, you need to represent.”

  “I represent … me.” I smile as I shake my head.

  She looks away from herself and at the clock. “Oh, damn. I have to go. Pictures are in an hour, and I’m not even dressed yet.”

  “You have fun tonight,” Mom chimes in.

  “I will, even if the prom is lame, since the after party is at my house.” She tries to hand me money.

  “No thanks.”

  “What do you mean ‘no thanks’?” she says, thrusting the money toward me again with a smile.

  “You gave me rides to indoor league, so call it good.”

  “I’ll call it good if you promise to come to my place for the after party.”

  “I can’t.”

  “She can. I’ll drop her off.” I shoot daggers at my mom, and she laughs. “You’re only young once, sweetheart. Live it up while you can.”

  I have become the Cinna to Claire’s Katniss, but I wouldn’t bet on her even if I could.

  ~*~

  As soon as I get home, my phone alerts me of a message from Lana, and it’s all in bold letters.

  COME QUICK! I NEED YOU!

  I look at Mom who laughs. “Lana?”

  I nod and shove my feet in my slides. “Who else?”

  “Well, it could be that Claire girl making sure you’re coming.”

  “How many moms of fifteen-year-olds encourage their daughters to go to a party where there may be bo
oze, drugs, and boys?”

  “Will there be?” she asks, trying to sound unaffected.

  “Boys, yes. Booze and drugs, I’m not sure, but it’s possible,” I tell her, as I open the door.

  “I trust you, Hadley.”

  “I know, Mom.” Because I am boring, I think to myself.

  I knock on the door, and Pax opens it with a smile, then acts like he is going to say something, but I speak first.

  “She upstairs?”

  “No, she’s in Mom’s room, freaking the hell out.”

  I nod and look around, avoiding his eyes, which happen to stand out even more against his black tux.

  “I’ll take you back.” He looks at me to respond, and I am once again lost in those eyes. “Ready?”

  I nod, and he lets out a deep breath and turns. Then I look up as he shakes his head and turns back.

  “You are truly a great friend, a great person, just—”

  My phone notifies me of a text again, and I reluctantly look away.

  WHERE ARE YOU!?!

  “Lana?” He smiles softly when I nod. “You’re a good person, Hadley.”

  “Great,” I correct, shoving my phone in my pocket.

  He smirks, shakes his head, and then turns around and walks toward the back of the house. He knocks on the door, and Lana throws it open.

  “It’s about freaking time!”

  “How about, ’Hey, Hadley, thanks for coming’.” Pax laughs.

  “Yeah, that, too.” She grabs my hand and yanks me inside, then slams the door in his face. “I liked it better when you did it. Can you fix it?”

  “Lana…” I look up as her mother walks out of the bathroom and takes a drink of water. “You look stunning.”

  “I look like a freaking pin-head. The bun is so tight my eyes are slanted back. The make-up”—she groans—“don’t even get me started. I look like a hooker, Mom.”

  “I paid a lot of money—”

  “You didn’t have to. I told you she could do it,” Lana interrupts, pulling pins out of her hair.

  Mrs. Jamison gasps and puts her hand over her chest, “Lana!”

  “Oh, take a pill, Mom. Come on, Hadley.” She grabs my hand and drags me behind her into the bathroom.

  “Wow,” I say as I look around.