“We’ve been to thousands of birthday parties.”
“Yeah, but this is, like, different. Boys are throwing a party just for the sake of a party.”
“I guess so, yeah.” For the first time in a while, I’m not listening carefully to see if I hear Yamir in the background. Okay, I’m listening for that a little, but not that much.
“Evan’s mom is gonna pick me up. She can pick you up too, if you want.”
“Sure,” I say. For some reason, it didn’t occur to me that Evan would be there. I don’t know why. He’s friends with Travis and Gavin, so it makes sense. Plus, he’s Sunny’s boyfriend. But as soon as Sunny mentions him, my stomach goes knotty. What if Sunny spends the whole time with him? The AGE girls have each other and don’t really need me. And Zoe and Erica will be joined at the hip.
I don’t know who I’ll hang out with.
Travis will probably pay attention to me, because he always does. And I like it, sometimes. But not all the time. I’m scared we’ll get left alone together and I won’t know what to do or what to say. Some days I like him. And I think I can like him, like him. But other days I’m not sure and I just miss Yamir.
My acting like I don’t care about Yamir is just that, acting. Of course I care. I just can’t admit that to anyone.
I wonder if I’ll ever get so into this acting thing that I’ll forget how I really feel.
I doubt it.
Evan’s mom picks me up, and I say good-bye to Mom and Grandma. They don’t seem worried about me going to a party the way they used to worry about Claudia. I wonder why. Maybe they trust me more. Or maybe it’s because I’m not in high school yet.
I guess they’re saving all their worrying for next year.
“Hi, Lucy.” Evan’s mom smiles back at me from the front seat. “So nice to see you.”
“Likewise,” I reply, because it’s something my mom always says.
Sunny cracks up, of course. “Lucy is now forty years old.”
I hit her on the arm, but then I start laughing too. I knew she’d say something like that. She’s so predictable.
Evan’s sitting in the front seat, and his hair is all glossy from some kind of gel. It smells really strong too, like a combination of men’s cologne and the gardenia-scented counter cleaner my mom uses. I open my window a tiny crack, even though it’s cold outside.
“So, Dad’s going to pick you guys up,” Evan’s mom tells him. “What time?”
“No idea,” he replies. “I’ll call you.”
Evan’s been surprisingly quiet this whole ride. Maybe he’s nervous. He’s never been to a party like this either, probably. At least not with Sunny. He’s probably freaked out that they’ll have to play some kind of game like Truth or Dare or Five Minutes in Heaven.
Come to think of it, I’m scared of that too.
I start to come up with escape plans. I can say that I have a stomachache. Or that there’s a pharmacy emergency and I need to help. No one will believe the second one, but at least it’s something to have on the list in case I get really desperate.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I’m getting out of the car. I immediately try to think of what my mom, grandma, and dad are doing tonight. Grandma was going to the movies with her friend Flo. Mom didn’t say, and I’m not sure what Dad’s doing. I hope one of them is available to pick me up.
As soon as I’m on the front steps of Travis’s house, I immediately want to leave. I feel like Sunny at the mall last year, before she started going out with Evan. She liked him but couldn’t handle being around him.
Maybe this means I like Travis. Maybe I’ve liked him all this time and didn’t even realize it.
I totally confuse myself.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Don’t compare yourself to others.
The door is open and we walk into the twins’ house. Their parents are sitting in the living room reading. They don’t say hi. They look up and smile, but that’s it.
They don’t tell us where the party is, but we see a sign that says PARTY DOWNSTAIRS.
With each step I take toward the basement, I become sweatier, my stomach gets knottier, and I feel more and more like I’m about to throw up.
This isn’t good.
“Are you okay?” Sunny asks. “You look clammy.”
“I do?” Oh no. I may feel clammy, but I don’t want to look clammy. “Actually, I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Will you wait for me?”
She nods but seems reluctant, like she’s anxious to get downstairs. Evan says he’ll meet us down there, and I immediately feel relieved. I need a few minutes alone with my best friend. That will fix everything.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sunny whispers when we go into the bathroom together.
“I don’t know. This just feels so, I don’t know, mature, and so different from the stuff we usually do.”
“Come on, Luce. We’re in a basement in Old Mill with kids in our grade.”
“Right.” I don’t want to go into all the reasons why I’m nervous, because I think that will just make me more nervous. I touch up my makeup, patting some concealer on my chin and reapplying my lip gloss. Even this little touch-up relaxes me. I take a deep breath. I give myself a cold, hard stare in the mirror.
Lucy, you can do this.
Sunny and I go downstairs, and there are already so many people there. It’s not our whole grade, but it’s close. The basement is big—pretty much the whole length and width of their house. And they have a big house. Maybe one of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen in Old Mill.
The AGE girls are sitting on the blue velvet couch in the corner, looking at their phones and sipping cans of soda. Erica and Zoe are standing in the other corner with their arms folded across their chests.
Where to start? I wonder. I remind myself of my mission: to help Zoe and Gavin get together, and to make the AGE girls enjoy themselves for the first time in their lives.
I can do it. And if I focus on everyone else, I won’t have time to think about my own worries and fears. Having a mission helps me calm down. It gives me a sense of purpose.
“I’m gonna go over to the foosball table with Evan,” Sunny says. She squeezes my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nod. I can’t hold Sunny back. In my heart of hearts, I wish she would stay by my side the whole night, but I know that’s not fair.
I don’t want to stand alone at this party. When you stand alone, you feel like everyone notices that you’re alone. Claudia has told me so many times that no one is really paying attention. But it’s still hard to accept that. When I’m alone, I feel like there’s a flashing neon sign above my head: LUCY DESBERG IS ALONE RIGHT NOW.
“Lucy!” Travis runs over to me and hands me a can of soda. “So pumped you’re here.”
He’s wearing a long-sleeved polo with the collar up a little, and just like Evan his hair is glossed and spiky, with only one strand that won’t stay where he wants it. He keeps pushing it back, but it repeatedly falls and lands in the middle of his forehead. I have to stop looking at it.
“Come. I want to show you our man cave.”
Man cave? I’ve never heard a kid call a room a man cave. But I don’t say anything, just follow him.
There’s a whole separate room in the back of the basement. From the outside it looks like a closet. My stomach swirls around like a bug in a glass of lemonade. It’s going to be one of those awkward scenes from a TV show.
He even takes my hand. It seems like we’re the only ones at this party right now. How did we go from two people who talked occasionally before the start of band to two people alone in a basement?
“This is it,” he says as he turns on the light.
We’re not in a closet. We’re in a giant room with a pool table and pinball machine. It also has an orange leather couch and high tables that look like leaves. It almost seems like a lounge in a swanky hotel.
“Cool.” I smile. “Really cool.”
I need to com
e up with an excuse to get out of here. Maybe I’m hungry? I saw some chips on the table in the other room.
“Thanks,” he says. I feel him looking at me, but I don’t make eye contact. If I make eye contact, it’s all over.
“Why isn’t anyone hanging out in here?” I ask. “It’s so cool. Everyone is crowded in the other room.”
“We’re gonna open it up soon.” He slicks his hair back for the millionth time. “I wanted to show you first.”
“Really?” I ask. That feels too big, too important. I don’t want to be that important to Travis.
Maybe that’s how you know if you like someone. If you don’t want to be the most important person in the world to that person, you’re probably not that interested in going out with them.
“Come on, let’s go tell everyone to come in,” he says. He makes it sound like we’re hosting the party together. But I don’t really care. I’m just grateful to leave this room and take a break from being alone with him for a few minutes.
I follow him and, thankfully, he doesn’t grab my hand again.
We’re back in the other room for two seconds when Erica and Zoe run up to me. Travis says that he’s going to check on the sodas and he’ll see me soon.
“We have to talk to you,” Erica says as soon as Travis is gone. “Privately.”
This can’t be good.
“What is it?” I ask, when we’re in the back corner near the tall gray armchair.
“You’re a sneak,” Erica says. “Going into another room alone with Travis. What about Yamir?”
“Nothing is happening with Travis,” I say. “We’re friends.” I force myself not to laugh. Erica acts like she’s on a reality TV show.
It occurs to me that I should probably say the opposite—that nothing is happening with Yamir. That we don’t talk at all. That he’s probably going out with that girl Sienna. That’s the real truth.
But I can’t bring myself to say that. I can’t even bring myself to think that.
“Anyway,” I continue, “let’s talk about more important things. Like Zoe and Gavin.” I pause, and a genius idea comes to me out of the blue. “And who Erica should go to the Masquerade with. We need to find you someone awesome.”
Erica rolls her eyes. “Oh Lordy. Lucy Desberg is my matchmaker now?”
“She’s been doing a good job for me,” Zoe admits.
“Well, if you don’t want my help, that’s fine too.” I smile at Erica as sweetly as I can. It’s taken me eight years, but I finally know how to handle Erica Crane. That is a major accomplishment.
“Fine.” Erica folds her arms across her chest. “But if you don’t like Travis, then maybe I will. Zoe and I are BFFs, and it only makes sense that we have twin brothers for our boyfriends.”
She kind of has a point. Maybe if I set Erica up with Travis, I’ll feel better.
I think about that for a second. On the one hand, it’s nice to have Travis’s attention. On the other hand, it’s so stressful. But on a third hand, Travis is a nice guy, and Erica Crane is . . . Erica Crane.
There has to be an answer.
“Let’s just see how the party goes,” I say. “We don’t know who else is going to show up. The whole night is ahead of us.”
Saying that gives me a sense of hope and excitement—combined with a sense of dread and fear. I guess that’s how I feel about life right now. Life as an eighth grader who will soon be in high school.
I planned for it all to be perfect and the best time ever, yet it’s a box of assorted emotions, changing every other day.
“Great idea,” Zoe says. “Now, where’s Gavin?”
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Try to think about things from other people’s perspectives.
Everyone starts to shuffle into the “man cave”—which is pretty much just a game room. Someone wheels the foosball table in there too. Some boys are playing pool, and the AGE girls are involved in an intense game of foosball. I can’t tell if they know how to play or if they’re just goofing off.
I spot Gavin coming down the stairs carrying a tray of mini hot dogs. “There he is,” I whisper to Zoe. He looks like a waiter at a fancy party, only he’s not wearing a black bow tie.
Zoe straightens her hair and folds her arms across her chest.
“Don’t stand like that,” I whisper. “It looks like you’re closed off and unapproachable.”
“Huh?” she whispers.
“I read it in a magazine once.”
Erica whispers something into Zoe’s other ear that I can’t hear.
“I’ll go get a mini hot dog and tell Gavin to come hang with us,” I suggest. “Just wait here. Look like you’re involved in a conversation and Erica’s saying something really funny.”
As I carefully walk over to where Gavin’s standing at the foot of the stairs, I try to avoid eye contact with anyone. At the same time I’m trying to spot Travis, so that he can’t swoop in and suggest we hang out alone again.
“I love mini hot dogs,” I tell Gavin when I get to him.
“Take a plate!”
There’s something about this party that makes it seem like Travis and Gavin are professional party throwers. There have to be at least seventy-five kids in this basement, but no one seems stressed. Not even their parents.
“Erica and Zoe want some too. I can’t carry that many.” I make a sort of damsel-in-distress face, which is a little lame, but I think it’ll get Gavin over to where Zoe’s standing. “Will you bring the tray over there?” I smile.
“At your service, madam!” He follows me over to the corner behind the pool table.
“Don’t worry, guys, I’ve brought the hot-dog man over to you!” I say, and laugh, but no one else does. Maybe it wasn’t that funny.
“Lucy is the hot-dog expert,” Erica says. “You know how she won that hot-dog-eating contest last summer. Right, Gavin?”
People bring up that hot-dog contest way more often than I thought they would.
“Yeah. Pretty impressive.” Gavin nods. “I’d high-five you, but I’d probably drop the tray.”
“Thanks. If the party gets slow, we can always start an impromptu mini-hot-dog-eating contest,” I suggest. “Just an idea.”
“Then people will barf all over their basement.” Erica totally shoots down my idea.
I ignore her comment. “So, Gavin, are you and Zoe in any classes together?”
He thinks for a second. “Hmm. Maybe chorus?”
“Oh yeah.” Zoe smiles.
“But social studies too. Remember the rap?” I realize it probably seems odd that I know about that, so I add, “Sunny thought it was so funny. She had to tell me about it.”
“Duh!” Gavin puts down the tray and hits himself on the head. “Obviously. How did I forget?”
Soon they’re involved in a conversation about their rap performance, and I say loudly, “Erica, come with me for a second. I want to show you something in the other room.”
At first she looks confused, but then she gets it.
“Zoe cannot have a boyfriend or date for the Masquerade before I do,” Erica says on our way to the other room. “Do not let that happen. Do you understand how serious this is?”
“I do.” But I don’t—not really. She should be capable of being happy for her friend. I forgot how competitive Erica Crane can be.
“Do you understand?” she asks again.
I nod slowly. This might be an example of the whole “no good deed goes unpunished” thing. But it’s too soon to tell.
“Come on. Let’s sit on those couches over there,” I say. I think better when I’m seated. And I kind of want to hide from Travis. Also, where’s Sunny? I haven’t seen her or Evan in what feels like hours.
When we’re seated I ask Erica if she likes anyone, of if she has anyone in mind for her date.
“Not really,” she says. “All the boys in our grade are immature or boring. I want a high school boy.”
“Oh.”
&nb
sp; “That’s why I need you, Lucy.” She glares at me. “I know you’re playing down the whole Yamir thing. But I also know you guys are in love and will get married.”
“Really?” Erica sounds like she knows more about my future than I do—and I really want to believe her.
“Totally. It’s like a classic love story. Childhood friends. You grew up together. The whole girl-next-door thing.”
“I’m not sure that means anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just trust me. You’re getting married. Now tell Yamir to find me a cool high school boyfriend.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Now, I mean.” She picks up my bag, about to open it. “Where’s your phone? Text him now.”
“Huh? No. I’ll just talk to him when I see him.”
“Text him now, or I’ll go tell Travis that you’re in love with him and you don’t care about Yamir.” Right now Erica seems like some crazed monster you’d see in an animated movie. She’s a wild animal looking for her prey. “Do it, Lucy. I mean it.”
I have no idea what to do. When Erica Crane tells you to do something, you pretty much have to do it. But maybe this won’t be so bad. It gives me an excuse to text Yamir. Sure, it contradicts my whole not-caring attitude. But this is for Erica, not for me.
And he knows how scary she is.
“Fine.” I dig to the bottom of my bag and find my phone. No texts. No e-mails. No calls. Claudia has been missing for days. As soon as I get home, I’m telling Mom and Grandma. It’s starting to really worry me.
I sift through my text messages to find the last one from Yamir.
All it says is fart, and it’s from four weeks ago. So there’s that.
Hey. Erica Crane wants you to find her a high school boyfriend. Get on that.
I show her the text before I send it.
“Good work.”
“Now what?” I ask.
“Let’s just sit and see if he responds. I’ll go get us some sodas.”
I want to tell her to come back quickly, but that sounds needy and desperate, so I don’t. I sit here and stare at my phone, half because I’m worried about Yamir writing back and half because I don’t want to look like a loser sitting alone.
PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black Page 8
