by Rachel Vail
“Forgot to bring it in…” I managed, vowing silently to start working on it soon.
“Are you feeling ill?”
I tried to smile.
She bent close and asked, “That time of the month?”
I shrugged. What a nightmare, the mustachioed homeroom teacher was hovering sympathetically, three inches from my face. Even worse, based on my unwilling sample whiff of her breath, she was a smoker. Bleh!
“I’ll bring it in tomorrow, Ms. Alvarez.”
“I’ll look forward to reading it, dear,” she murmured, and, thankfully, plodded back toward the front of the room. I sunk into my chair. Just what I need, on top of everything else—to write a speech summing up our middle school experience. Great. How about, Everything was perfect until recently?
At lunch we sat in our usual clump. All the other kids gathered closer than they needed to, pretending they weren’t listening in for scraps of info about the party to then shoot around in rumors and wannabe insider gossip. The five of us leaned close to whisper. Our notebooks open, we nodded like a bunch of bobbleheads. I wasn’t even sure what I was agreeing to. There was a buzz, a hum, under everything; I couldn’t hear. Like I was looking through the wrong end of a telescope, my friends seemed strangely far away, though there they were, right beside me at the lunch table as always.
On our way outside, after smiling randomly at a couple of girls who complimented us as we passed, I saw a penny in the hallway. I lurched down to grab it, feeling hopeful for the first time all day that maybe I could get some luck back. Kirstyn grabbed my wrist. “Was that heads up?”
“What?”
“The penny. I think it was heads down.”
“So?”
“That’s bad luck.”
“Find a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck,” I said. “There’s nothing about heads up.”
“Trust me.” She still had a death lock on my wrist.
“Okay.” I dropped the penny. “It’s just a superstition anyway; it doesn’t really work.”
“If you say so,” Kirstyn said, shaking her head sadly. “It’s too late now. You picked it up. Bad luck.”
I kicked the penny to the side of the hall.
“Hey, so are you coming to East Hampton with us this weekend?”
“Who’s us?”
“Gabrielle’s family. For their Memorial Day party. Earth to Phoebe! Didn’t she ask you this morning?” She leaned into the heavy door to push it out. The sunlight smacked us and we both whipped out our sunglasses.
“No,” I said, putting mine on. I still had to squint anyway.
“Well, I’m pretty sure she was going to.” She looked at me. “Seriously. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” I said. How much do I hate it when people tell me not to worry? “But, um, I just, the thing is…”
Luke’s hand splayed out beside mine on the door. We all three walked through it together. Kirstyn elbowed me. I shrugged at her.
“What aren’t you worried about?” Luke said.
“Ungh,” I said back.
“Anything,” Kirstyn said. “You know Phoebe. She never worries about anything! Right, Phoebe?”
“I guess,” I mumbled.
“So anyway, Luke,” Kirstyn said, more cheerfully than I’d heard her speak to (or about) Luke in forever. “What are you doing Memorial Day weekend?”
He glanced at me. “Not much. How about you?”
Kirstyn smiled. “We’re going out to East Hampton with Gabrielle’s family. Have you been to their place out there?”
“No,” he said. I felt kind of squashed between them as we headed up the hill in the bright sunshine.
“It’s amazing. Her parents have fabulous Memorial Day parties.”
“You’re going to East Hampton?” Luke asked me.
“Um,” I said. No, I’m going with you to dig in dirt!
Kirstyn threw her arm around me. “You gonna miss her?” she asked Luke flirtatiously.
He blinked twice and said, “No.”
Kirstyn made a pout and yanked me away. “Come on, Phoebe.”
I let her drag me away, toward the upper field, and didn’t look back. I tried not to think of how familiar this feeling was, like I was one of those chocolate bunnies you get for Easter that, when you bite its ear, you find out the whole thing is hollow and shattering to bits in your fingers. Like I’d felt the last time Kirstyn led me away from Luke, the first full day of school last year. Don’t think about that! Ancient history!
“I see what you mean,” Kirstyn was saying. “I mean, he’s still a little, you know, sweet, but he does have a very kissable mouth. You may as well make use of it, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, crumbling, shattering, myself. “You know those hollow bunnies, and you bite them and you thought they were solid but they’re not?”
“Gabrielle says the party is ‘Hamptons casual,’” Kirstyn whispered. “But it’s Saturday night so that definitely means dresses, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” I said. Maybe I hadn’t said anything and just thought I had. Maybe I was suddenly getting deep and annoying. Lighten up!
“Do you have something new?”
“Yeah,” I said, lightly, brightly, fakely. “I think so.”
“While we were at Neiman’s we got a few things.”
“Great!”
She looked at me quizzically for a second. I had never noticed before how hard it is to strike the exact perfect level of light and bright. I shrugged casually and tipped my head up to the sun. “What did you get?”
“Oh! A bunch of cute things. I don’t know what your mom meant—there were so many dresses! I tried on that green one, remember you clipped a picture from, I think, Seventeen? Green with straps up like this?”
“Teen Vogue,” I whispered, trying to stay upright on grass that felt like it had started to liquefy.
“With the tight waist, full skirt—”
“I remember it,” I managed to say.
“Well, it was right there, hanging by the desk! It’s so cute but it makes me look a little dumpy, so we got that one and also a white with black—did you see that one? With the slit?”
I nodded, though I really couldn’t tell what she was talking about anymore.
“Well, we brought them both home and…” I had completely stopped being able to hear her. She had my dress, and another, to choose from, hanging on the bar of her closet. And I was about to drown in the grass of the upper playground.
“Don’t say anything to Zhara and Ann,” I did catch.
“About what?”
“About this weekend. You know, going to Gabrielle’s. We don’t want them to feel bad or anything.”
“Maybe she could invite them, too,” I suggested, my voice far away from my mouth. “Maybe that could be fun, you know, all five of us, like last year….”
Kirstyn rolled her eyes. “Sure. Last year was fine, but I mean, we’re going into high school now. It’s like, you know? They’d just feel uncomfortable, really. There are going to be all these boys there from the city, all Gabrielle’s parents’ friends’ kids, including you-know-who.”
“Miles?” I could hardly believe I was actually participating in the conversation. Miles was Gabrielle’s boyfriend from camp. I’d never met him but I’d seen his picture. That’s it, keep up, I told myself. Light, bright, casual—stay with it. You can do this.
Kirstyn nodded. “With some of his buddies, so—who knows!” She squeezed me closer. “Make sure you don’t bring your green-and-white bikini.”
“The Calvin Klein?”
“It’s so—middle school. No offense. But, you know? Don’t you have some less, you know, sporty suits? These guys are in tenth grade. In case they come over during the day, you don’t want to seem like a baby.”
I shook my head. No, I didn’t.
Kirstyn leaned close and whispered to me. “We have to make it seem like we hook up with tenth-grade boys all the time, no
big deal. This is gonna be so great, don’t you think?”
I nodded. Great. I turned around to scan the field but didn’t see Luke anywhere. William was coming up the hill behind us. He smiled at me. I couldn’t tell if it was a you-made-out-with-my-best-friend-you-dog smile, or a my-best-friend-likes-you smile, or just a hello smile. I smiled back, a whatever smile, I hoped, rather than a trying-not-to-puke smile.
“You okay?” Kirstyn whispered.
“Sure. All good.” We were almost at the back fence, because it turned out we had kept walking. How odd everything was. Oh, hello, there’s my hand, beside my head, waving to Gabrielle, Ann, and Zhara, who were sitting near the fence along with half the other girls in the school and some of the flirtier boys.
“You seem a little…”
“What?” I asked.
“Off.”
She waved casually at a couple of seventh-grade girls from the track team who were watching us. They smiled big cute braces smiles, then huddled up to whisper to each other. William walked straight over to them.
“No, I’m on,” I assured her.
“What?”
She scrunched her face; I smiled and shrugged. She bared her teeth at me. I shook my head; nothing caught. I showed her mine and she shook her head, too, then scrunched her nose at me again. It was kind of like a dance. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the girls shoving William on his shoulders. He laughed. They all looked like they were having a whole lot more fun than I was, that’s for sure. I couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling. I kept thinking, through a fog, Wait—that’s me, it’s supposed to be me, the one in the middle of the fun. There’s been an error, me here stressed, outside.
“Um, Phoebe?” Kirstyn leaned close and whispered to me, “Listen. No big deal but I overheard my mother telling my father that your mother’s check bounced. You know, for the party?”
“Bounced?” I asked.
“You know, when the bank screws something up so they think there’s no money in your account and won’t pay it? My dad was like, so just redeposit it, the bank must have screwed up.”
She looked at me quizzically. I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I heard my mouth say, miles away.
“Obviously,” Kirstyn said. “I just—”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just…if…never mind.”
Bridget Burgess, sitting on the grass nearby, looked up at us with her hand shading her eyes. Her face was a mask, no expression; she was wearing Allison’s purple top and my yellow shorts. Kirstyn turned to me and whispered, “If she dressed less tacky, it’s weird but I think Bridget Burgess would actually be kind of cool-looking. Don’t you? In a trashy-cool way?”
All I could manage was a shrug.
“Anyway,” Kirstyn whispered, linking her arm through mine. “My mom is finally picking up the invitation proofs today. I can’t wait to see.”
“Mmm,” I said.
“She said she’ll get two, one for you to bring home, too, after she picks us up from track. Okay? Won’t it be fun if we have tenth-grade boyfriends at our party? I mean, you promised it would be great, but seriously. Right?”
“Yeah,” I said, plopping down onto the grass between Zhara and Gabrielle. My head was spinning.
“What?” Ann asked.
“Nothing,” Kirstyn said.
Ann frowned and picked some grass. I knew just how she felt but there was nothing I could do to help, because right then Gabrielle stood up and yanked Kirstyn by the belt loop and said she had to ask her something.
They stood a few feet away and I saw them trying not to look at me as they whispered. I tugged at the grass myself until the bell rang ending lunch.
Kirstyn, sweet and apologetic, grabbed my arm to walk down the hill, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Phoebe—I totally messed up. Don’t be mad at Gabrielle. She’s totally sorry and so embarrassed but it turns out her parents are limiting her so unfairly for the weekend because her brother is coming with friends from college.”
Gabrielle caught up with us. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I really wanted you to come….”
I managed to smile. “Oh, of course,” I said. “I mean, no problem. I totally understand.”
At our lockers, Kirstyn whispered, “Are you mad?”
“Not at all,” I answered. “I don’t really care, to be honest.” Because, really, I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything, it turned out. If I could feel anything, I might have felt surprised to feel nothing.
“It has nothing to do with you,” Kirstyn assured me. “Don’t worry.”
If one more person tells me not to worry this month I may have to kick them in the teeth, I thought, but I just said, “I know. I’m not worried.” Clearly it had nothing to do with me. None of it did. I had lost track of myself somewhere. Who this girl was, walking beside Kirstyn down the hill, not being invited, not allowed to have her graduation dress or even a party, frowning in the sharp May sun—I had no idea. She wasn’t me, obviously. I barely recognized her.
“You okay?” Kirstyn asked me. If there was a tiny little gloat under Kirstyn’s sweet embarrassment, I tried to ignore it.
“All good,” the girl beside her, who she thought was me, said.
17
I KNOCKED ON QUINN’S DOOR and waited, because she said to hold on. She opened it a crack and looked out at me. “What’s up?”
“Not much. You?” I squinted at her. She looked different somehow. How?
“All good,” she answered. I wondered if she meant it more than I did, lately. “How about you?” She opened her door and I followed her into her room, all reds and purples, with piles of books, pens, and papers everywhere.
“I’m good,” I told her. “Anything new with Mom and all that?”
“Why?” She checked her reflection in the mirror and wiped under her eyes. That was it—her eyeliner was smudged. Had she been crying? Quinn?
“Just wondering,” I said. The invitation proof I’d been holding felt too conspicuous; I dropped it on top of a rickety pile on Quinn’s desk. “So?”
Quinn shrugged. “She’s meeting with the lawyer a lot, and not going to the office, obviously. I think they postponed her meeting. She’s been in the study all day, going through her files, preparing.”
“Oh.” I picked up a pink eraser and rubbed it against my palm. Wouldn’t it be cool if you could just erase yourself, sometimes? “Well, I gotta go write my graduation speech,” I said.
“Need help with that?”
“No, I got it,” I said, trading the eraser for the proof. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” I had my hand on the doorknob and one foot in the hall when I asked, “Hey, Quinn? If I wanted to get some money out of the bank, how would I do that?”
“Why?”
“I was just thinking—”
Something crashed into Quinn’s window. Quinn and I both jumped. Before I could ask her if she thought a bird had smashed to its death, Quinn had run to the window and opened it.
“Get in, you idiot,” she said, I thought to the dying bird. But no.
Allison crawled in, off the roof.
“Where the hell were you?” Quinn demanded in her hoarse low voice. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. “Do you know what I—”
“We missed the train,” Allison explained, panting. “I saw her car so I…what are you doing in here?” she asked me.
“I came in through the door,” I said. “Did you cut school?”
Allison shot Quinn a look, then sighed. “I went into the city with Roxie.”
“The city? By yourselves? Why?”
“To become fashion models.”
“What?” I blinked twice. “No, really, why did you…”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Allison shook her head. “Ugh. Don’t even ask. You do a friend a favor…and end up having your picture taken by a bunch of freaks.”
“You had your picture taken?” Quinn asked her. That’s what she wa
s surprised about? Not that brainiac control-freak Allison had cut school and gone into the city with her crazy new best friend Roxanne—but that she’d had her picture taken? “You said only she—”
“I had to sign the thing, to sit in the room with her,” Allison said. “What a joke: Three hundred girls, all as gorgeous as Roxie, and then me. Ugh. I think I just bruised my palm, climbing up here. What are you guys doing?”
“Phoebe needs money.”
“For what?” Allison asked, inspecting her palm.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. They both turned and stared at me.
“Mom’s check bounced,” I explained.
“What check?” Allison’s eyes darted to Quinn, her bruised palm forgotten.
“To Kirstyn’s mom,” I whispered. “She’s redepositing it because, she figures, the bank messed up. So it’s probably no big deal but…”
Quinn closed her eyes and breathed slowly. “It’ll just bounce again, and Kirstyn’s mother will call Mom.”
“When?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “When did it bounce?”
I shrugged. “Kirstyn told me about it this morning.”
“We have a few days at best,” Quinn muttered, figuring. “What was the check for?”
“Six hundred dollars,” I whispered, sinking down onto Quinn’s rumpled bed.
Quinn grimaced. “I mean, why was Mom writing her a check?”
“Oh,” I said. “For my graduation party.”
“You were supposed to get out of that!” Allison said. “Daddy told Mom—”
“How did you know?”
Allison shrugged. “Baby monitor.”
“Right. Okay. But, see, I was thinking—instead of pulling out of the party, I could use my own money.”
“Phoebe,” Quinn objected. “That’s for college. They’ll never let you.”
I grabbed the invitation off Quinn’s desk and thrust it toward them. They both scanned it, their eyes moving around it, taking in the yellow paper with pink overlay, the perfect font, and around and around the edges, where our five names encircled the whole thing, linked in an unbroken chain.
