by LK Thompson
Before leaving, I quieted the music and told her that she’s stronger without Devin and better off too. I meant it. He’s nothing special, I assured.
“Just like me with Jake, you’ll see what’s meant to be. That being dumped because we’ve lost a glimmer is a gift because once they don’t see it in us, it dies in them too.”
Harlow’s face was serious when she responded, “You think so? Even if I’m sure we were perfect for each other and it’s Taryn’s fault that we broke up?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. If Devin could dump you because of Taryn, he’s a wimp. I’m telling you, there are better times ahead.”
Her eyes glistened the way Ev’s do when I talk. She believed me. And I wished I could be the friend I told her I was.
Honest. Trustworthy.
Maybe not today, but soon. Soon, I’ll tell her about the pills I saw in Morgan’s backpack and the message I saw Taryn write on Babble. I’ll tell her that I saw Devin wait for Millie Sailing after class. Soon, I’ll even tell her about Jimmy’s. I’ll tell her everything. Valentine’s Day.
This was a first step in the right direction.
1/25
Craig was standing like a statue at the front door to my house when Mike’s car peeled into the driveway, my mouth wide with hysteria over Mike’s near-perfect imitation of a regular customer we both despise. We’d been successful in keeping our Code 5050’s to a minimum, especially in Jimmy’s presence, but with the colder weather, Mike is my ride home most days. Even when my shift is only two hours long, he finds a way to slip out and deliver me home, stopping briefly in a nearby parking lot for some alone time.
I barely recognized Craig—school books tucked under his arm, eyes squinting to see me in the front seat. It was the bright orange sleeve of his varsity jacket that caught my eye and when it did, I snapped my head around to look twice until the image registered completely.
“Shit!” I cursed, without consciously realizing it. Mike looked away from me to see Craig then too. “Who’s that nerd? God, I keep forgetting you’re in high school until I see something like that. People still wear varsity jackets?”
My heart pounded, “Um, oh. He’s just a guy—my lab partner. Totally forgot about our project. It’s due tomorrow. Shit.”
Mike jeered at my immature concerns while I silently begged the heavens for him to believe me. I’ve been doing so much lying, but not to him. Until this moment, Mike had been safe from it all.
“So?” He asked, “Have him do it. Hot girls like you don’t do homework. I’m sure that loser would love to do your work.”
It stings, hearing Mike call Craig a loser, and I can’t help but react, “He’s not a loser. He’s nice. Anyway, I better go.”
Mike grabbed my elbow, “Wait. Don’t go yet. The best part of driving you home is saying goodbye. Why don’t you tell him to go inside and give you a minute? Tell him you’re with your…boyfriend.”
My stomach was seasick and suddenly I either had to vomit or poop. I was sweating. Did he just say boyfriend? He definitely meant for it to be something and yet, it was the worst timing on earth.
No matter how flattered I was meant to feel, I looked at Craig’s pained expression, veiled with confusion and I grabbed my bag. “Mike, I really gotta go. Ev’s probably spying from her window. We gotta be on our best behavior. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done okay?”
I flung open the car door and ran toward Craig, keeping our bodies at a safe distance—knowing full well that Craig’s life was at risk if I didn’t. I’ve never seen Mike do anything violent, but something tells me it’s possible. I turned back only once after I’d ushered Craig inside. Only then, did Mike leave.
On the other side of the door, Craig asked, “Who was that?”
“Oh, just a coworker. Roy. So, where do you wanna work? Living room?”
Craig didn’t budge. “That’s Roy? You always made him sound scrawny and geeky. Nothing like that.”
Craig’s exterior was growing unfriendly and my mind was a deck of cards collapsing in all directions. What a mess! What the hell had I told Craig about Roy? I couldn’t remember. “Oh, come on,” I laughed, "How could I make someone sound scrawny without saying, ‘Roy’s scrawny’ which I definitely never said! Anyway, who care’s about him. Where do you wanna go?”
“Why didn’t he say hi to me? You’ve told him about me, right?” The way Craig was staring at me was terrifying. Lying would be a stretch, but I had to try it.
“Yes! Of course! Roy’s super cool. You’d love him.” I cringed, rushing by his stiff body and dropping my books on the ground. Craig followed me and replied, “I don’t know. That guy kinda looked like an asshole. Why didn’t you introduce me?”
Neurotic laughter escaped me and I hoped he didn’t notice I was going insane, because I was. I was a ball of nerves threatening to explode into a billion pieces if he so much as poked me with his finger.
Because if Mike’s an asshole, what does that make me?
1/26
Every single time I care about my friends, I fail.
Harlow slid her body next to me after school today. She was so close that we were touching from our shoulders down to our knees. She leaned her head on me and sighed loudly, prompting Craig, who was sitting to my left, to mouth, Should I go?
Desperate, I widened my eyes and pleaded silently, No, and then, please.
Turning to Harlow, I pet her silky smooth blonde coif and asked, “Everything okay, sugar plum?”
“No.” She turned to Craig for a brief moment to engage him and then rested back on my shoulder “Craig, why is it that when a guy breaks up with a girl, he can move on so fast? It must mean he never really liked me to begin with, right?”
Craig shot me a death glare, then cleared his throat, “Aw, come on, Devin’s not like that, Harlow.”
“Then, what’s he like?”
“Okay, I don’t know him super well,” Craig began, “but even I could tell he liked you in a real way. It was obvious! Sometimes, things kinda fade inexplicably. Or maybe it was over long before you realized. Guys hate breaking up with girls. It can take months.”
I punched him in the arm, “Craig, what the hell kinda pep talk is that?!”
“I don’t know! Ow!” Craig rubbed his arm, “Don’t ask me this stuff. I’m not an expert. I mean, technically I can’t figure out what I’m doing either!”
Harlow lifted her head long enough to give me a side eye.
I feigned sadness and chirped back, “Oh boo hoo. You’re hardly a charity case, Craig.”
The last thing I needed was for Harlow to grasp that we aren’t officially dating. I mean, I use Craig as an excuse to get out of a lot of plans with the girls.
Harlow sat up suddenly as if the class bell went off on the intercom, even though it didn’t, “Thanks guys. I think you’re right. It has been over for a while. Way longer than I wanna admit. But, it wasn’t my fault.”
I jumped in on cue, “Of course not! It was his! Devin’s always been so weird with who he dates. Remember that theater girl sophomore year? The trombone player?”
Craig nudged me to stop talking and Harlow smiled sympathetically. “Thanks Elle. But, it’s not his fault either. It was Taryn’s.”
Clear as day, it’s there. Harlow knows. Taryn’s incessant plotting and boyfriend manipulations. Her lies and underground Babble gossiping that have begun to snake the halls worse than last year. I want to run, far far away. Nowhere near Pelham, Harlow, or Taryn. This is a boardwalk ride, ready to make me puke. And yet, my feet are glued in place as I feel the seatbelt slither across my legs and buckle.
Here we go.
2/4
Ten days until Valentines Day.
Craig reminds me of our deadline, as if I could forget. He and I watched Michelle and Jake in the school lobby, intertwined, her staring up at him like a Greek god. Jake stared into the distance at another group of girls—one wearing a particularly short skirt without tights despite the below freezing tempera
tures outside.
The sight prompted Craig to make a snarky comment. Something about Jake’s habitual dirtbag tendencies and I quipped, “Shh, he’ll hear you.”
“Jake? No way. He’s on the moon, contemplating how he can escape that leech girlfriend of his. Notice his hands dangling at his sides? He’s not even touching her.”
It was true. How many times had I been that way? A barnacle to a crusty ship. I wondered. It’s much easier to see clearly from across the lobby. Being an inch from his face is just too close.
Craig nudged my shoulder and asked, “Excited about Valentines Day? Or dreading it? Tell me what I’m in for. Gimme a hint.”
Watching Michelle, I want to be better than her—not clingy and pathetic. “I’m really happy like this, Craig. Aren’t you? What if we just don’t complicate things.”
I tried to soothe him with words that should mean something, but he only scoots farther from me. Stung. I reached out, but he withdrew his hand. I said, “Craig, stop—I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Then, what do you call what you’re doing?”
“Being truthful?” I asked, hopeful he’ll believe me.
But he stood and tossed his backpack over his shoulder, “It’s fine. I gotta go.”
This is what pissing Craig off does. Leaves me alone—no armor. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
Tonight at work, Mike slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him. I told myself I’d put space between us, just enough to figure everything out. Yet, the instant he touches me, I don’t recall the big deal.
“Let me drive you home,” he said plainly and my defenses crumble completely because all I can think is, yes, I’d love that.
I answered, “Okay, but I can’t hang out for long. My Dad saw us parked by the bay the other night. Don’t want him thinking his daughter is a tramp.”
Mike’s arms released me and I resumed pouring shots into my tray of mini glasses. He sighed, “You, trampy? I wish.”
He’s joking and I want to have a sense of humor about it. He’s flirting with me because I’m special to him. He wants me the same way I want him. But a voice in the back of my head reminds me of Roy’s warning. I’m not special. They’ve seen it all before. He’s only in it for one thing. Will I give in?
There’s a chemistry between us that’s undeniable, but I’ve made guys weak in the knees before and profess their love for me. Once they get the one thing they’re after, they leave.
Mike hasn’t even tried. Not really. That’s the one hope I find myself clinging to.
2/5
It’s a party at Taryn’s tonight and the time is slotted for Craig. I’m a parent splitting custody. No Mike. That wouldn’t be fair.
I set my phone to airplane mode and impatiently wait for Craig to arrive. I texted him reassuring words—Come to Taryn’s. I miss you! Tonight will be fun, I promise! And lucky for me, he listened. He hugged me upon entering her house and he lowered his head to whisper, “You mean what you said? You missed me?”
Taryn stormed by and I jumped up to kiss him. We hadn’t kissed in over a week and his lips felt weird. Wrong. He wasn’t Mike.
I asked Craig, “Hey, can you grab me a wine cooler for Harlow? Taryn’s been a nightmare this week. I’m worried about them interacting. We gotta keep Harlow near us.”
I passed Harlow a Jell-O shot and then the wine cooler once Craig returns with it. Unlike Taryn, Harlow never drinks much, so I was surprised to turn around and see Jake (of all the helpful people) handing her yet another drink right after the ones I gave her. For a quick second, I wondered if he liked her. The luster of Michelle dramatically waning as of late. Could Jake ever fall for Harlow? Probably, if she let him. But she’d never.
Earlier that morning, Taryn warned, “Watch out for Harlow and Craig, Elle. I wouldn’t be so sure you’re exempt from her selfishness.”
I easily glossed over her worry and spoke with certainty, “I’m not worried, Taryn. You’ve gotta chill out on the Harlow thing. It’s starting to make you break out.” I pointed to a small defect on her chin and that was it. She diverted her attention elsewhere.
At her house, it’s different. I sat sidled up beside Craig, when a breeze rolled into the Casey Grand Ballroom, sweeping Devin and Millie in along with it. I watched Millie closely. No makeup on, not even mascara. Her outfit was too loose and her shoes were comfortable ballet flats that didn’t match her top. She’s nothing special to look at, but her nose is perpetually turned up to parties like this one. She’s a snob for no good reason, quite frankly. Taryn hates her guts and while I don’t feel that strongly, I can definitely see why she sucks.
I stood with Craig behind me, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist as I skimmed the windows in the Ballroom. What would I do if Mike showed up again? I whispered, “Be right back!”
I dashed around the downstairs and pulled all the curtains shut. I crept into the chef’s kitchen and unlocked the glass door to peer outside. Nothing. I locked it back up and ran to close every door leading to it. In the kitchen, I closed the blinds. What had happened to me? I was so paranoid!
By the time, I’d returned to Craig, I was shaking. He asked, “Everything okay?”
I grabbed a cup to pour champagne into and nodded, “Oh yeah, just taking extra precautions. Never know when the cops might show!”
Suddenly Harlow was by my side and her voice didn’t sound right. She asked, “Is that Morgan Fisher…in a miniskirt? Am I hallucinating?” She approached Morgan, and exclaimed, “Who are you so dressed up for? I thought wearing skirts was only for the simpleminded.”
My eyes darted to Morgan and sure as shit, her knobby knees and thin pale legs poked out from a tiny skirt. The image was alarming. So unlike her. I thought about the pills. Diet pills. They had to be. She had wasted away to practically nothing. Had I waited too long to confront her?
I wanted to coax Harlow’s attention from Morgan by saying, c’mon Harlow, let the girl live. I think she’s allowed to break out of her shell every so often. But, Craig had just poured me a large cup of champagne and my nerves over Mike possibly popping up, had me chugging my drink. After two cups filled to the brim, I sent Craig for a third. Harlow’s speech slurred angrily. Morgan’s skirt wasn’t a just a skirt.
It was a betrayal.
Tipsy myself, I stared at her, watching the fireworks explode from behind her eyes. I saw it too. The clues weaving together, beginning to form the story Harlow sensed all along. Blake’s hand grazing Harlow’s waist as she walked by, swatting it away. Morgan’s too-thin wrist tugging at the hem of her skirt, uncomfortable in her skin. Her eyes foggy, but set on Devin talking to Millie. Millie squeezing her fingers into Devin’s arm. A battle won against Taryn. Taryn cradling an oversized glass of vodka, her body draped over Tony, her newest conquest, as he held a funnel of beer into the sky and chugged to a crowd chanting his name.
Tony wiped his mouth victoriously upon completion, eyes searching for something. Someone. He peeled Taryn’s hand from his shoulder and I saw the sadness in her. The rejection.
Everything was wrong.
I lowered my eyes to think, but when I looked up, she was gone. Taryn had vanished. Where to?
As quickly as a drop of condensation tumbled from the bottom of Craig’s beer and onto my leg, pandemonium struck. Her voice was high pitched and wild. Taryn was psychotic. On the receiving end was Harlow. Tony, too. He cursed Taryn in retaliation—bold and unapologetic. Then, he ran down the stairs giddily, jumping halfway to the bottom. He grabbed Devin, who clutched Millie. I searched for Harlow and Morgan. What happened?
The room filled with an awful darkness, like when parents argue too loudly in the middle of a quiet restaurant. I wanted to shield myself from the embarrassment. Why hadn’t I run? Anger gripped Taryn as she tore through the house. Even on her meanest days, there’s always been a nip of sarcasm in her voice because she plays to the crowd, wanting to impress them with her wit. This was different. And for once Harlow, didn�
��t back down. Which I guess, is when a real war begins.
2/7
What’s worse than a war? I can’t think of a word for it, but this is it. Harlow kissed Tony, the guy Taryn had claimed. This is the second time she’s kissed a guy that was off limits. Blake last year, and Tony this year. I’m hardly a portrait of moral living, but even I’m having a hard time determining why she did it. Was it simply a nice face in a drunken, sad situation? Or was it revenge?
I texted her, Whoa what happened, Harlow? I thought you liked Devin.
She responded, I was drunk and he kissed me. I was in the bathroom and he found me. Did I wish it were Devin, YES. But who cares?! Taryn didn’t really like Tony. The whole thing was an act. Taryn sucks!
Since the party, the whole school has become the Tilt-a-Whirl, spinning in circles.
In an effort to make sense of one thing, I cornered Morgan. I barged through the front door of her house to confront her on her turf. With her sad, dirty home as a backdrop and her skeletal drug addict mother lurking in the wings. Morgan appeared skinny and weak but not frightened. One look into her gray eyes is a reminder that Morgan doesn’t scare easily. I started with my biggest ammunition—the pills.
“I see what you’re doing, you know?” I asked, “I saw you gulp down that pill at Taryn’s house. In the car, in the lunchroom. I see what you’ve been hiding. You’re scary, so I never confronted it. I wanted to find out for myself. I’d been wondering if you were on diet pills since the beginning of the year, but now I know it’s even worse than that. In the middle of a Taryn Casey explosion, your eyes were vacant. Completely gone. You think you’re invisible because you’re so smart and you get better grades than us, but guess what, Morgan? You aren’t smart. You’re a moron.”
