Pelham High Diaries: Eleanor

by LK Thompson

  It didn’t even take a minute for Mike to respond, Shit. Beat you to the punch, huh?

  Yeah, but I poured a beer on his head and dumped him in a spectacular fashion, which was close to my original plan for the night anyway. What’re you up to?

  Just about to head home from Jimmy’s. You around?

  I lied to the girls and begged Taryn to drop me at home. They thought I was distraught over Jake and I let them because I was going to see Mike.

  Yes. Pick me up in 10?

  I’ve spent so much of my life confused over boys. And for the first time, all of that confusion washed away and I had a crystal clear image in my head. If I saw Mike tonight, at this hour, it would change everything. It will mean that I like him. But, it could also mean that he liked me. Which, it turns out he does. He said so the second I climbed into his car.

  “You’re a heartbreaker, Bella.”

  I reached for my seatbelt and smirked, “I’m flattered, but doesn’t the heartbreaker usually break the hearts? Ya know, as opposed to getting publicly cheated on?”

  The corners of his lips crept up as he answered, “In your case, it can mean many things. Look at me for example. It’s midnight and up until twenty minutes ago, I was exhausted and ready for bed. Then, I got your text and I haven’t had a coherent thought since.”

  I laughed nervously, “Really? How come?”

  “I like you.”

  My stomach plunged as Mike parked his car along the dunes of the beach and turned to me. “Question is,” he asked, “do you like me too?”

  In a game of chess, it was my move. So I unfastened my seatbelt and stretched across the console between us and closed my eyes. I pressed my lips into his. When we stopped kissing, I said, “I like you too."

  Swirling, whirling, magic. That’s exactly what it was. Real life magic.

  11/4

  Attention PHS Lemming’s! New enemy alert!

  Taryn has announced her disdain for Harlow’s boyfriend loud and clear. Devin McCabe, watch out—Taryn Casey hates your guts. And Harlow—I’m sorry but it might be time for a new boyfriend.

  As much as the whole thing makes me uncomfortable, Devin pissed me off today too. In the crowded hallways of PHS, he warned me against dating Craig Kast. Devin explained how Craig’s a player and couldn’t be trusted, just like Jake. What kind of an oblivious moron did Devin think I was? I’m in control of my own destiny, finally! And I don’t need Devin McCabe messing it up!

  “We’re hardly dating, Devin.” I said, my voice steady and reassuring, “I kissed him and I like spending time with him. I wouldn’t worry.”

  My being with Craig is completely on purpose. Craig’s a notorious player and total jerk to girls. He’s practically Jake’s idol for that reason alone. So, while he’s currently drooling over me before, after, and in between every class, it’s okay! I’m not attached! He’s a very integral part of my cover up. In other words, if I want Mike, I need Craig.

  Taryn, who finds a real solace in me having a boyfriend, likes us together, too. And when I’m with him, I’m left alone.

  Today, after third period, Craig sought me out and knelt to sit on the ground next to my locker and asked, “When will you let me drive you home? This week? Next week? Just give me a date and I’ll skip practice.”

  Swapping my notebooks, I faced him to offer an apologetic smile. I answered confidently, “Not a chance, Craig. The Casey mobile is my ride, everyone knows that. If you have a problem, you have to take it up with Taryn.”

  Craig smiled at me, “Okay, fine. So let me take you out. Movies?”

  “I wish, but I have work most nights…”

  He cut me off, “C’mon. You can’t work every night. Just be straight with me. Am I gonna get to see you outside of PHS or not?”

  This back and forth was making me uncomfortable, but Jake walked past at that very moment. My voice perked up, “Of course! At Taryn’s party on Friday. You better not miss it!”

  I pecked Craig on the lips, declaring, “I’ll see you after class.”

  He walked away smiling, which lifted my spirits. Making boys happy is something I’ve been trained to do. Even if only briefly, a positive exchange with the opposite sex elates me. But, when I sat down at my desk, words from Babble appeared in my mind:

  Eleanor Moser’s a slut. A totally easy target.

  No wonder Jake cheated AGAIN.

  Who’d Eleanor have to sleep with to get Craig Kast to play into her performance?

  Uh, Craig, you idiot.

  My chest was a balloon, leaking air. Didn’t they understand? I was in control. Craig and Jake weren’t playing me; I was using them to my advantage! Yet, kissing Craig, even a slight peck didn’t feel victorious, like I wanted it to. It felt like a lie.

  Is this what cheating feels like?

  11/10

  Code 5050

  This is the text that blurs my vision. The sight of it on my phone screen can have me clutching my chest, sure I’m experiencing a heart attack. So much about love feels like death, come to think of it.

  The whole thing started as an inside joke last week when Mike called me into his office to ask me a question about my timecard. He wrote, Uh, what’s up with your timecard? Says there’s an error I’ve never seen before. Code 5050?

  I had no clue either, but then the following day, he texted it again, Code 5050—can I see you in my office?

  And now he just writes, Code 5050 because the quicker he sends me the text, the quicker I can run to him. And I do. With his message, I’m on fire, racing to figure out my next move. Even back when Jake was the sweetest, most amazing boyfriend to me, I never felt this way. I never even knew it was possible to feel this way! I need to be with Mike in a way that I can’t put into words.

  When I click Mike’s door shut behind me, time stands still. I jump into his arms and we kiss. Light as a feather, he lifts me up effortlessly and I wrap my legs around him before he slowly lets me drop, our faces stuck together, ravenous, our cheeks rosy. Today, he wiped his hand across his mouth and said, “No tinted lip gloss—smart.”

  “Trying to plan ahead,” I said and it was true, I had. Just in case this was allowed. Just in case, he was as anxious to see me as I was to see him. Just in case he wanted this to continue. Because I do.

  I do, I do, I do.

  11/11

  I kept my promise for Taryn’s party and spent the entire evening with Craig. We have fun together and he’s funny with me. Like a comedian almost. He said, “I love your laugh,” which compelled me to reply, “Really? Most guys only like it when I cry!”

  When I’m with Craig, I feel completely different than when I’m with Mike and I don’t know what it means. Does it have to mean anything? Am I a bad person if I don’t dissect it?

  Don’t answer that.

  11/12

  There are complications in the arrangement. Short circuits sparking here and there. I’d love to fix them but I’m no engineer. He wanted to kiss me goodbye. Craig, not Mike. A kiss is a normal request for a boy, especially one I’m dating. Trust me, I’ve been in much rougher situations before, turning guys down, or kissing just for the hell of it. But, I like Craig as a person so it makes it hard.

  And when I watch my friends, I know that I can’t do this year without the safety net of a boyfriend. I won’t survive.

  Right now, I’m lost and afraid. A girl in the woods without a compass, cosmically pulled in two directions and zig-zagging between both. It’s a dangerous predicament to stand so close to things that I shouldn’t. A voice tells me that I deserve everything, both Craig and Mike. It’s not unfair in the least. They’d do it to you! It screams and I hear it loud and clear, knowing I’m too weak to let one go, anyway.

  11/17

  Harlow’s sad, and I can’t ignore it any longer. With an afternoon free, I showed up to Taryn’s, certain she’d direct her anger at me and I was ready for it. Come and get me! I’ve neglected her friendship and she’s gotta be pissed, but it wasn’t like
that at all.

  At her front door, Taryn’s eyes lit up. She fawned over my hair and my shirt, consecutively. Her words were upbeat and musical. Sing-songy and syrupy sweet, “You look fresh as a daisy—did you just get off the phone with Craig?” It felt unfair to be treated this way but I didn’t know how to tell her that.

  Instead, I went through the motions. Sitting at her vanity, I tried on different shades of lipstick, one after the next. I confided openly, “I’m dating a lot of guys right now—it’s hard to know what kind of lipstick to wear, ya know? This shade is good though, not too obvious. Good for PDA. How much did you say it was?”

  “Just borrow it. What do you mean, a lot of guys? I thought you were dating Craig?”

  “I am,” and then because I wanted to see how it would sound, I said, “But, I’m also seeing a guy from work. And this other guy from work. The cook—he’s really cool. I’m not technically dating him, but we text every day. Actually maybe we’re just friends. Either way, my phone’s been busy, which was the problem with Jake. I had too much free time. Who knew I needed at least three boyfriends to stay fulfilled?!”

  “You could’ve called me. I’m always around, you know?”

  I’d just done the thing I had been dying to do. I’d admitted having a double life and Taryn barely flinched. “Sorry, you know me. Boy crazy to the point of being mental! Isn’t that what Babble said yesterday?”

  I was joking, but the air was sucked out of the room and Taryn flopped lazily on her bed. She asked, “Do you know how lucky you are?”

  “Me? Why?” I asked.

  “Because you have a free pass. With everyone. Even the people who hate our group don’t hate you. You’re just…different for some reason. Shackle free.”

  I’d gone to her house to confront the problem she had with Harlow, but all I did was talk about myself. I guess that’s what makes this whole thing difficult. We’re all dying for a sliver of attention. When we get it, we grip it tight. We don’t want to let it go.

  11/19

  Two days ago, I thought I’d made a breakthrough with Taryn. She was jovial and light hearted. I convinced myself she was a sweet girl, much too focused on negative circumstances. I thought perhaps I’d shifted her point of view. An epiphany was upon us! Taryn was nice again!

  Of course, I would’ve loved to give myself that credit.

  But, once again, she was awful. Filled with rage and eager for a target. I went to Taryn’s party, wearing the same facade as I had two days before. I was fluffy and light—a girl under Craig’s arm, laughing at his jokes. I dressed in skimpy clothing and reapplied my shiny clear lipgloss while keeping the mood light. When Jake walked by me, I even waved at him.

  I was getting more comfortable with my public persona as Craig’s love interest and even though I thought about Mike endlessly, I was finding a way to compartmentalize those thoughts. When my phone buzzed, I ignored it—knowing full well it could potentially be the boy I wouldn’t be able to turn down if he were to proposition me.

  I slipped away for only a minute and checked my phone. Twelve messages, each one from Mike, one right after the other. The last one was urgent, Are you sending me to voicemail? I didn’t think you were like this.

  For a moment, I could feel Mike’s anger. I was caught. Hot and embarrassed. He didn’t think I could treat boys badly, and I didn’t either. But, I can. It’s been getting easier every day. I’ve learned to push the guilt aside and manage it when I have the time. So, when I’m not with Mike, I focus on Craig. And when I’m alone, I dim the lights and I think. I gather my thoughts.

  That’s what I was doing in the bathroom when somebody pounded on the door, “Yo! Taryn’s flipping out. Get out here!”

  I ran as fast as I could. Taryn’s face was distorted and explosive. She stood tall, shouting obscenities to Harlow, who had just walked through the front door with Devin.

  “Harlow and Devin, the suckiest couple at PHS!” Taryn appeared drunk, but her voice was clear. She chugged her vodka hungrily, even though Harlow begged her to stop. When Devin commanded Taryn to calm down, she only screamed louder. Morgan leapt to fetch the cup straight out of her hand, exclaiming, “I really think you should stop and put the drink down. You seem a little unhinged.”

  I agreed, “Yeah, Taryn. Take a breath.”

  What I meant to say was that she seemed to be hallucinating, trapped in a spell of psychosis. There was no reason for her outburst and yet, here it was. Unstoppable.

  “DEVIN, GO HOME!” she demanded.

  Taryn stepped closer to Harlow and spat, “Harlow, if you leave with him, you can forget being friends. I’m sick of you always being so self centered and picking him over us. That’s not the way this works, remember? Of course you don’t. You just take and give nothing!”

  I squinted at the ridiculous nature of her words and reached for Harlow’s hand, dangling to her side and freezing cold. I wanted to offer her something—warmth or a sense of security. But all I did was wake her up. Her response echoed Taryn’s. She yelled, “TARYN! STOP IT! Just stop!”

  Taryn wobbled and she reached for Blake. I wondered if I should pull her away and scold her—she was going about this the wrong way. Who cares about Devin! But something about the way Harlow shook, told me to let Taryn go off on her own with Blake. Upstairs and away from the crowd. Out of sight and into bed. Sleep it off. It would be better in the morning.

  But I can’t convince myself of that. Who could?

  11/20

  Too much time with the girls means I missed out on seeing Mike. Last night, I texted him back but it was too late. He was asleep. In the morning he was meant to leave for vacation—meeting his parents for four days of sun and relaxation. I missed my shot.

  There’s an aftermath to a Taryn explosion—there always has been, always will be. With each passing year, her outbursts grow more disturbing, so it’s no mystery why the repercussions get worse too. Harlow just texted me, I’m not riding to school with her this week. Screw Taryn!

  I had to read it four times in a row because it’s not something Harlow would say, especially out loud and to me. But, she’s got every right to stand her ground and be pissed. I don’t like to feel swayed by other opinions, but in this moment, I do. As my phone buzzes and Taryn’s name appears on the screen, the air in my room becomes foul and rancid. I’m on Harlow’s side. I want nothing to do with Taryn.

  I closed my eyes to picture Mike somewhere tropical, with a marg in one hand, his phone in the other. Either the Bahamas or Bermuda—I forget. I imagined him there, tanned and smiling, and it’s not hard because he’s sending me pictures of his whereabouts as the hours pass by. A baseball cap shades his bright blue eyes from the sun. I texted, Code 5050 and then a cry face emoji because I miss him.

  I wish I were there with him. Anywhere but here.

  11/28

  A hand written note, folded in half and taped to the front door of my house when I get home from school reads, Hey Beautiful, I was in the neighborhood and thinking of you. Tomorrow night can’t come quick enough.

  Life this past week didn’t exist. Without Mike, I could only fumble through each day, doing what I was supposed to. I wondered if the time apart would bring me closer to Craig, but it didn’t. I was purposeless.

  With the note on my door, I’m invigorated again. Mike! If I could bury myself in him, I would because everything else is unbearable.

  12/1

  Up and down. Up and down. How long can a girl ride on a seesaw for?

  Maybe it’s affecting all of us. Nobody could possibly thrive in this environment. As the television screams holiday cheer and carols of togetherness, the girls and I are racing in four distinct directions. When I’m not at Jimmy’s, there’s nothing for me to cling to. I’m totally lost in my “regular” life—I hate it. Even Craig, who’s been my safest PHS hiding place has changed. He’s tugging at me, begging, “Elle, just cut me loose if you don’t wanna be together. You seem so…indifferent.”

  Thes
e are words reminiscent of Jake. Or maybe they’re warranted. What am I doing with him? I looked into Craig’s eyes last night, as we sat together on my bedroom floor working through my History essay, piece by piece. He’s patient with me and I appreciate him. I know it sounds impossible with how I feel about Mike, but I like Craig. Against all odds, he’s forced me to see the good in him. So when I’m hit with the ultimatum, I think that I can’t lose him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Don’t be mad, Craig. It’s just that this year is spinning out. First with Jake and now with my friends. Did you see Taryn yesterday? She was yelling at Blake like a mad woman!”

  I don’t mention Mike and it feels treasonous, but there’s no point in being gallant now. I’m already a coward and careless with feelings. Why hurt him more? I continued, “Everyone’s fighting and it’s a lot to take on right now.”

  He nods, reasonably. My excuse makes sense. He sees the way Taryn is and understands my sadness. Craig sighs and looks into my eyes, “You’re a good friend, Elle. Not to me, or anything. Please don’t put me in the friend category! But to Taryn, Morgan, and Harlow. I feel like outta the four of you, you’re the only one that tries.”

  His words are kind and I’m thankful, through the guilt. What he’s saying is partially true. I’m trying hard to keep my friends uplifted and sewn together. I never delve into their drama—no feelings of jealousy and I never speak negatively. But, I’m also glossing over a lot of bad and hoping people won’t notice. I’m covering up problems that can’t be easily fixed, wishing they’d correct themselves while I turn to look the other way.

  Harlow is depressed. Bullied with Taryn’s cruelty.

  Taryn is off the rails. Drinking to dampen her energy.