"It's friendling." I start to walk away, but then go back and sit on the edge of the trampoline.
"Did I fall back asleep?"
“No. Only ten-seconds have passed. I guess I wasn’t done. Happy birthday, officially. You know, I’m proud of you. You pulled off this party. You’re doing what makes you happy, despite the obstacles.”
He leans onto his side. Intensity burns in his eyes. “What makes you happy?”
It’s a simple question, but my stomach flips nervously as something else lands on my tongue. “The other day I realized that I’m jealous of you. You know what you want to do with yourself and where you’re going.”
“Willa, you’re not serious.”
“I am. Teddy, I don’t know what I’m doing, like after Saturday, I literally have no idea.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll wake up in the morning, brush your teeth, get dressed, and go about your day.”
I clobber him with his pillow.
“Ouch. I ruined myself last night. I ache all over.”
“Sorry," I say and mean it. "I know I’ll do all those day to day things, but in the bigger picture there's a big blank when I ask myself what's going to make me happy.”
“Not to sound like a Jedi-master, because, dude, you’ve got that on point, but I think as soon as you let go of trying to figure out what you should be doing, what you’re meant to do will come to you.” His face goes serious as he leans closer and declares, “You will have a bright future. You will do great things. You will be successful and happy.”
“No Jedi-mind tricks,” I say, falling under his spell and then blinking my eyes to snap back to reality.
“Right. I’m sapped. The Force is weak in me this morning, but what I said before, really believe that, believe in yourself.”
I start to walk away, to get us both some water, but then recall Jaze approaching Teddy the night before. “What was that all about with Jaze?” I ask.
Instead of answering, Teddy hurls over the side of the trampoline.
When he turns back around, I say in my best Jedi voice, “You will feel better.”
“I will feel better,” he repeats, wincing against laughter.
I sweep toward the house for water and trash bags, creating a path as I straighten the patio furniture. Berlin and Asher lay on opposite ends of the couch in the living room. Written on both their foreheads in permanent marker it says I’m with stupid.
I chuckle and the grandfather clock chimes. I rush outside, calling, “School, Teddy.”
He bolts upright. “Damnit. We have our English exam today.”
After we scramble to get ready, I get behind the wheel of the Grapesicle.
We breeze into Puckett just after first period. The teachers are irritable and the student body, Teddy included, are various shades of green, but snatches of high points from the party natter as I pass through the halls, reminding me of my own moment with Joss. She must still be sleeping because she's not in the cafeteria at lunch. Grady insists I sit with him and share all the details about the night before. I spare a few, namely the ones labeled Joss.
“Can we hang tonight?” he asks.
“If you want to lend a hand cleaning up Teddy’s house…I promised to help him.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Actually, Heather’s party. How about Friday?”
“Sounds like a date.”
“Are you asking me out?” I say, tongue in cheek, but barely able to conceal being schoolgirl giddy.
“Dinner date? How’s seven sound? I’ll be the guy in the Mustang.” His lips quirk. I'm not immune to His Royal Hotness, but still, Joss glows softly in my mind.
While walking to my next class someone hoots in the hall as I pass. I reflexively whip my head around. Dave Hastings, a quasi-jock, not quite jork, stands by the entrance to the gym with a smirk on his face. “Voulez-vous ménage à trois?”
Ew. I'm livid. I shoot laser beams out of my eyes; he’ll feel the sting eventually, whenever technology catches up with the outstanding abilities I cultivated to repel bullies back before middle school. Droplets of sweat bead across my forehead as a memory drops on me like a piano filled with bricks. Ouch.
I rush into the girls' bathroom and close myself in a stall. The memory reels back on four resin wheels.
I was at skateboard camp the summer before seventh grade. I only knew a few kids there and quickly befriended a Teddy look-alike and a girl named Roxy. I can't believe I haven't thought about her in all these years, especially recently. She was one of three other girl skaters at the camp and the other two girls didn’t want anything to do with us because, well, we were on the ramps and challenging the boys before they’d even secured their helmets.
Roxy was the epitome of cool with a short hipster haircut before that was a thing. She also wrote all over her hands with black marker, which I thought was so rad, like her every thought would someday seep through her skin in a big whole-body tattoo.
During drills one day, while we were waiting in line for the grind rails, I spotted my name written on her hand. It felt like a thousand winged keys tried to take flight from my chest. Just like the ones in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. That imagery may have been because all of the twelve-and-unders watched the movie the night before.
Later, during free time, we were sitting in the shade of a ramp, slurping Slurpies, and I took her hand in mine. I said, “You have my name, written there.” I rubbed my finger over it. She closed her eyes and asked, “Have you ever—?” When she leaned close, I knew what she meant.
Although I hadn’t thought too much about boys or girls yet, in the part of my body health class had recently named, there were stirrings. Our lips met. Apparently, I locked that secret away using one of those flying keys. Because only now do I remember, she and I kissed. The Katy Perry song takes on a new meaning.
A tear drips from my eye for the little girl who had so much courage, confusion, and ultimately shame because on our last day there, Remy Rebeck, an eighth grader, did something to ruin his superlative as being the cutest boy at camp.
By the time we had the family barbecue that evening, I was nearly in tears and it wasn’t because I hadn’t yet mastered my three-sixty flip. It started with Remy saying, "If you like girls you should ride a bicycle instead of a board.” Then a few others got in on it and were combining our names in the sitting in a tree song, only they changed it to sitting under the ramp.
Right before we left, when I was checking my bunk for all my belongings, Roxy came to me. She leaned in to give me the softest of kisses, when three boys burst into our all-girls cabin, and asked, “Can we watch?” It was humiliating, hence the lasers. I ran out of there, lasers beaming from my eyes, smiting them all, and without even saying goodbye to Roxy. And obviously never thinking about that experience again, until now.
I wonder, wherever she is, if she remembers.
My parents couldn’t figure out why at the beginning of the week, I’d been all smiles and cheerful reports and by the end, I just wanted to go home and not leave my room for the rest of the month. This is mostly what I did until Teddy, without even realizing he was doing it, made me okay again. I didn’t tell him about Roxy. Even then, he was so all right with whom he was. Although looking back, it’s clear he hadn’t quite figured himself out. I guess we’re all continuously a work in progress, much like the piece he calls the Whispering Nude, one of his busty ladies who he promises he’ll show me when he’s done, but it's going on three years. I wipe my eyes because I want to do twelve-year-old me proud. I breeze out of the bathroom with my chin lifted and my laser eyes locked and loaded.
☼
The English exam is dreadful. I pass my answer key in and discretely drop a pouch of M&Ms into the pocket of Mr. Dicostanzo’s blazer; hoping they’ll make him a little sweeter for the incoming class. It's true he's the toughest teacher at Puckett, but maybe he just needs some chocolate in his life.
Uproar pulls me into the hall. Music plays from some
where outside. We follow the familiar tune of a Green Day song to the school entrance. Three buses hem in a crowd of befuddled looking junior high schoolers. Then I remember move up day, back when I was in eighth grade and visited Puckett for orientation. A flood of seniors rush through the doors all wearing T-shirts printed with messages like Dream big, Be strong, You got this, and other inspiring slogans. I guess not everyone's Muck-Up involves writing innuendos with forks and defying gravity from the school roof.
They all boogie a choreographed dance and the song melds into another. Smiles bloom on every face and they belt out a Black Eyed Peas song. There’s cheering and clapping and hugging. I'm glad some of the senior festivities don't involve vandalism, destroying school property, endangering lives, and resulting in all of us getting soaked.
The incoming frosh leave, hopefully feeling welcome and not daunted like they probably did when the rumor of the phallic landscaping reached their newbie ears.
I find Teddy at my side and we walk together to the Grapesicle, just like we’ve done going on two years. “Ready to get to work?” I ask.
“Don’t remind me."
☼
By the time the Westing’s house would pass the white glove treatment I collapse into a chair. Somewhere in DC Mrs. Westing is probably breathing a little easier.
“We did it,” Teddy says.
“Almost. Another couple days.”
"I think we need some sweet tea."
Other than my best friend, the only contribution the Westings made to my life is a love for sweet tea. Even my parents are addicted.
“Let’s fix that. Grab your board.”
Teddy laces up his roller skates and we skate down the middle of the street. The lowering sun is warm on our backs. The breeze feels good, as if it’s pushing me toward something new and undiscovered. Once at the market, I grab an iced tea from the cooler. Teddy sticks with water. I say, "Hi" when we pass Keith. He drinks from a bottle identical to Teddy's. We wander over to the beach.
“I saw you and Joss getting hot and heavy in the pool,” he says.
“Yeah, about that. We, uh, I guess we did it last night, in the spare bedroom.”
I don't receive the surprise or fanfare I expect. He just says, “Really? How was it?”
I fall back into the sand, letting it cushion and cool me.
“That good?” he asks, picking up my meaning.
I lean onto my elbow. “Does that mean—” I haven’t yet received a membership card into the society of the deflowered so my status remains unclear.
“Are you asking me if you lost the big virginity?” He waggles his eyebrows.
I nod, cradling my head in my hand.
“Homo-ginity? I suppose that’s up to you. I mean, there aren’t written rules about that kind of thing. Does it feel like you shared a special part of yourself with her and vice versa?”
I trace my finger in the sand as if trying to dig there for a response. “Grady and I are going on a date Friday night.”
“Willa, that’s not an answer.”
“What will my parents think?”
“What, that you’re bi?”
Something flares inside like answers to tough questions are forged with flame and they’re ready to burn their way out.
“You know, some people turn to pills, alcohol, sex, drugs, and reckless behavior. That’s not freedom. I think that’s what you’re looking for and even though your parents gave it to you, say compared to my mom and dad, ultimately it’s also something I think we each need to claim for ourselves."
His words remind me of what Guzzi said about making a place where I belong. Like it’s pointless to turn to anyone except myself for acceptance. "You're obnoxiously wise sometimes, you know that?"
He smirks but his eyes say he appreciates my compliment.
“So do you like her? Like, like her?”
I deliberate my response while seagulls caw urgently.
Teddy continues to dispense his sage advice. “I believe what’s most important is to fall in love with a person, not their anatomy.” Then he chuckles. “Though that can be hot too.”
I smile up at the sky and hope Teddy takes notice. “Yeah, I like her. But I’m in this weird bittersweet state. Like my body and heart sense we’re so close to the end at Puckett and we're all moving on. I mean of course we’ll still be friends, but everyone is about to depart in different directions.”
“So you’re not letting yourself get too wrapped up.”
“Exactly.”
“But what if it we didn't have a few days left? Would you be with Joss or Grady?”
The tide might have changed while I consider this. “I can’t answer that. I think they’re both in my life to do whatever it is people do just before they fall in love.”
“The butterflies?” he asks.
“The fizzy rush.”
“The flirting,” Teddy says, nodding.
“Yes, the flirting. And the constant craving.”
“What about the awkwardness?”
“That and the nervousness,” I confirm.
“And they’re all you can think about.”
I nod, knowingly. “But I also think Joss and Grady are helping me get clear on something.”
“That you’re spectacularly bisexual?” he says.
With a laugh, I shove Teddy over in the sand. “Hey, watch the hair," he says and then adds, "be careful, Willa. Joss is strong, but she's human, with a heart.”
“Are you meeting Gretel later?” I ask to change the subject.
“Gretel,” he repeats starry eyed.
“Oh, before I forget, I meant to give this to you last night.” I pass him a small parcel. "It got wet when I fell in the pool so I had to rewrap it. Happy Birthday.”
He peels back the wrapping and opens the small box. He holds up the compass key chain, the silver reflecting the last rays of sunlight. A warm smile spreads on his face. “I love it.”
“I probably need it more than you, but this way, you’ll never get lost. And if I do, you'll always be able to find me.”
“Thanks Willa.” He laughs conspiratorially. “Wait until you see what I got you for graduation.”
Chapter Twenty-One
☾
Wednesday
3,840 hours
After I walk Mrs. McGregor’s dog, I linger on my front steps. The warm almost-summer night embraces me like a Joss-Grady, my-recovered-friendship-with-Teddy sweater. It’s as if that sweater hug is a promise that I’ll never feel alone or chilly again.
Later, while I deliberate the purpose of my final math assignment, from outside, come the rise and fall of my mom and dad’s voices. I wonder what brought them back from the convention early.
The screen door squeaks when they enter.
“There you are!” my mom says. “We missed you.”
My dad adds, “We missed you so much that we wanted to come back a day early.”
“We figured that with just a few more days until graduation—” Her eyes mist.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I interrupt.
“Said the only teenager ever,” my dad says, laughing. “What I still can’t figure out is how we got so lucky.”
My mom beams. “During the car ride we couldn’t stop talking about how proud we are of you. That you turned out so—” She's on the brink of a full on sob.
“What we mean is that for the last eighteen years, we've had no idea what we were doing and we realized this part of parenting, at least, is nearing its end. You’ve grown into a remarkable young woman. I suppose we all did a good job, huh?”
Like I’m two or seven or eleven-years-old all over again, I rush into their arms for a real hug. “I love you guys,” I say. Now, not only do I have my sweater, but a hat and scarf too, to keep me warm, figuratively speaking, since it's sweltering.
“To the moon and back,” my mom says through tears, which now flow freely.
My dad is the first to break the circle. He takes off his glasses an
d wipes his eyes. “Wow. I haven’t done that in a while.”
We each take a moment to snap back from mushy-ville.
“I ordered a pizza on our drive back into town,” my mom says while she makes a new batch of iced tea.
“I’m going to unpack the car and stuff,” my dad says. He inhales deeply before the screen door creaks shut.
“How were things while we were gone? We're glad to see the house still standing. No party?” my mom asks with feigned surprise.
“Oh, there was a party,” I blurt. “The last week and a half has been one long party. But last night, epic.”
“I’m all ears if you want to expand upon that,” she says, smirking.
“You see, the Westings were also away—”
“No!” she says half astonished and half intrigued.
“Oh yes.” I tell her about the party, the cake, and the pool, sparing a few details.
“Willa, I’m not surprised. I always knew Teddy had it in him. I suppose the Westings had it coming. Nothing was broken?”
“No, just Teddy’s attempt to make them accept or even like him.”
“It’s too bad they don’t realize the thing dad and I did earlier. So many of us parents think it's our job to make you into these certain kinds of people, like you’re supposed to be little duplicate images of us, but I believe it’s our job to build you a nest, give you all the flying pointers we know, and then encourage you to spread your wings.”
“My dad pokes his head in from the other room. Well said, honey. And just to extend the bird metaphor, I have no doubt that both you and Teddy, despite his parents, will soar to great heights.”
“You guys are such cheeseballs,” I say. "The best cheeseballs, but still—"
The doorbell rings.
My dad appears moments later with a box of pizza. “Speaking of cheese.” I sit down at the kitchen table and my mom passes around paper plates and iced tea.
“So a rager at the Westings, huh?” my dad asks. “I always hoped someone would put that pool to good use.”
Just then, my mom practically chokes on her iced tea as she laughs. They exchange a parental look and my mom's lips press firmly together as if trying to suppress more laughter.
Chasing Days Page 19
