PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black

by Lisa Greenwald

  “What do you mean?” He asks in a way that sounds like he’s actually interested in the response.

  “I mean, the whole thing with Yamir showing up, and Erica and Elias, and now I think Sunny’s mad at me.”

  I wait for him to say something, but he’s quiet for a few seconds. Maybe it was a mistake to call him.

  “Lucy, you always get worked up over this stuff, and then it’s fixed in, like, a day,” he tells me. “Just go with the flow.”

  I don’t even know what that means. It sounds like good advice. But also like something to say when you can’t think of anything else.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yamir is obviously confused. So let him work out his stuff.”

  Again, it sounds good, but is he really saying anything?

  “You and Sunny are the perfect couple. How do you do it?” I ask. I hear all kinds of noise coming from my mom’s room. Things dropping. Doors closing. Exasperated groans. I have no idea what’s happening out there.

  “I don’t know, I guess we’re just awesome,” he says. “You shouldn’t compare your relationship to ours, though. Everybody’s different.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Look,” he says. “Travis likes you. Yamir’s been a little bit of a doofus lately. So just go with it. And who cares about Erica? She’s never going to be nice.”

  “Maybe she’s on a path to being nicer,” I say.

  “No, she’s not.”

  “All right. Well, thanks, Evan,” I say. “You can tell Sunny I called you. I don’t want her to think I’m going behind her back or anything, or that she’s been replaced by you!”

  “Okay, I gotcha.” He pauses, and in the background I hear the screeching-tire sounds of some kind of car video game. I guess he was multitasking. “Catch you later.”

  I end the call and wonder if I feel any better than before I called him. Maybe a little. Maybe not. I guess I don’t feel any worse.

  I walk downstairs to grab some kind of a snack. Stress eating is hard to avoid on days like this.

  Mom is in the foyer, putting her coat on. “I have to go,” she says.

  “What? No. You can’t go. Claudia will be here soon.” I decide to sit on the bench by the front door so I’ll be able to see Claudia when she comes.

  “Don’t even ask. Adrienne had some kind of problem with the pet sitter she lined up and now she’s in a bind, and I need to go over and check on the animals every day this week. Apparently in addition to the cats, she has two birds now. The animals have been alone for three days already.”

  “Eww. Gross.” That explains all the crashing and banging I heard before. My mom always drops stuff when she’s in a hurry.

  She makes a face. “I know.”

  We are not cat people. Or bird people.

  Mom should be more put out by this. It’s making me even madder that she’s not as angry as I am.

  “Where’d your mother go?” Grandma asks, coming down the stairs.

  “Adrienne. She needs someone to check on her cats and birds.”

  “Your mother does not know how to say no.” Grandma sits down next to me, and we look out the window together. “She’s left us to deal with your sister alone, I guess.”

  “Apparently.”

  We sit there quietly for a few more minutes and then Grandma says to me, “You sure it’s only your sister that’s troubling you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “I see. It’s okay to not know.”

  Grandma’s usually pretty comforting, but I don’t feel like having some kind of deep discussion. Not when everything’s falling apart.

  If I don’t figure out how to make Erica happy, everyone will know that I haven’t been honest about Yamir. The AGE girls will know I lied to them.

  Eighth-Grade Masquerade is in a month, and my life is a complete disaster. I think I’m better at handling grown-up problems. Eighth-grade problems seem much, much harder.

  I should never have attempted a perfect last semester. A merely okay semester would have been a lofty enough goal.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Be open to surprises.

  An Old Mill taxi pulls into our driveway, and Grandma and I leap up from the couch. We’re outside on the porch waiting for Claudia before she’s even gotten out of the car.

  I’m having déjà vu back to last summer when Claudia pulled up with Lauren and Bean. Only a million things are different now: Claudia’s getting out of a taxi, not Lauren’s car. It’s freezing outside. And Yamir’s not sitting on the porch taking pictures.

  I want to go back to that moment. Sometimes I wish that life could be like the photo stream on my phone. You could click back and forth from one moment to another. You could revisit happier times and take a break from harder ones.

  “Hiiii,” Claudia says, running up the steps to the porch. She reaches out to hug both of us at the same time. I guess she’s not staying long, because she only has a small bag with her.

  “Let’s go in. I’m freezing,” she says. She’s the only one of the three of us with a coat on, plus she’s coming from Chicago. She should be used to cold weather.

  She drops her bag by the front door and hangs her coat on the coat tree. She walks into the kitchen like she’s been here for weeks, like nothing unusual is happening. She grabs an apple from the bowl and fills up a glass of water.

  It’s the strangest thing. It’s like she has no idea we’re ridiculously worried and curious about why she’s here.

  Grandma goes back into the living room and picks up her book. I sit next to her and wait. I’m not going to interrogate Claudia. I’ll wait until she’s ready to talk.

  “So,” she starts, and sits down on the brown armchair across from Grandma.

  “I’m going to guess you weren’t arrested,” I say. “You seem too calm for someone who might be heading to jail.”

  “Very funny, Luce.”

  “Start talking,” Grandma says to Claudia. “You don’t just appear out of nowhere like this.”

  If Mom were here, she’d probably yell at Grandma for saying something like that, but I stay quiet. I kind of want to see how Claudia explains this. And sometimes a little tough love is helpful.

  “Where’s Mom?” Claudia asks.

  I tell her about “the bind” Adrienne is in. “She needs someone to check in on the cats and the birds. Sounds like she has a whole pet store in her house.”

  “Yuck,” is all Claudia says.

  “Claudia. Come on. What’s going on?” Grandma seems frustrated that Claudia isn’t getting to the point.

  “Well, I came for advice.” She looks down at her feet. “Bean asked me to marry him!”

  “What?” Grandma screams and stands up. “Claudia Desberg. Stop this right now.”

  I can’t say I’m totally surprised. It could be worse. She could already be married. Oh no! Maybe she is.

  I stand up too. “Wait? You didn’t answer him, right?”

  Claudia’s the only one still sitting down, and it feels funny. “Great to know you both love Bean.” She half-smiles.

  “This is not about loving Bean or not loving Bean,” Grandma says, sitting down again, so I follow along. “This is about the fact that you’re barely twenty years old. And you’re not getting married. It’s not even legal!”

  “Actually it’s totally legal,” Claudia replies. “I think. I’d have to look it up. Whatever.”

  Grandma shakes her head like she’s in pain. “Tell us the whole story, Claudia. Please don’t leave out any important information.”

  Under her breath I hear Grandma add, “You girls are so much like your mother. It kills me.”

  We both ignore her, even though we know she wanted us to hear that.

  “Well, okay, I should clarify,” Claudia continues. “He didn’t ask me to marry him right now. It wasn’t like that. He just has this whole plan for us to travel and live abroad for a few years after college, and he thinks it’s better if we’
re married.”

  “No. The answer is no. You cannot get married!” Grandma stands up again, and I almost start laughing. It feels like she’s been up and down a million times. This time she leaves the room. We hear her stomp up the stairs, and even though she’s not much of a door slammer, we hear her bedroom door close forcefully.

  “So, that wasn’t a success,” Claudia says, laughing a little.

  “Of course it wasn’t,” I say. For a smart girl, Claudia can be really, really dumb. “You didn’t think she’d be happy about it, did you?”

  “Um, I guess not. But I thought Mom would be here to sort of help.”

  “Well, blame the cats.”

  “She has birds now too. But, of course. We can blame most things on cats.”

  We both start cracking up, and it feels good to laugh. There are a million problems lingering, but sometimes you have to laugh anyway. Laugh in spite of all the problems.

  Mom gets home a little while later. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and she looks disheveled.

  “What happened?” I ask, turning off the TV.

  “One of the cats had some stomach troubles,” she says. “Don’t even ask.”

  “I won’t. I don’t want to know.”

  “Did Claudia ever get home?”

  I nod. “Yeah. You might want to go talk to Grandma.”

  Mom clenches her teeth. “That bad, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Where is she?” Mom puts her hands on her hips like she’s about to take control. The thing is, she’s not good at being in charge. It’s actually kind of funny to watch.

  “In her room, I guess.”

  I keep the TV off, because I want to hear what happens. The thing that confuses me is that I’m not sure if Claudia came home to ask permission, or to get our opinion, or what. I’m not even sure why she came home. I guess getting engaged worried her in some way. She must know it’s absolutely insane.

  I hear voices but I can’t make out what’s being said. I leave the den and tiptoe up the stairs. I’ll hang out in my room with the door open, and then I’ll be able to hear everything.

  “Claudia, you can’t make a decision for two years from now!” Grandma yells. “That is absurd. And he’s nuts to expect that of you.”

  “How many times have I said he didn’t want an answer right away?” Claudia says.

  “So then why exactly did you fly home?” Mom asks. “I’m thrilled to see you. Don’t get me wrong. But why the urgency? Why does this need to be decided or discussed right now?”

  There’s silence for a few moments. And then Claudia says, “I guess it startled me. I wanted a break from everyone at school. I wanted to talk with you guys. But you get so crazy. Everything becomes a fight.”

  Then she starts crying.

  “It’s not a fight, Claud,” Mom says in her soft, trying-to-be-comforting voice. “We just want what’s best. And it doesn’t make sense to make these decisions when you’re so young.”

  “Because look at what happened to you,” Claudia says, and something about her voice makes it clear she already regrets saying it.

  “No,” Mom replies. “I have no regrets.”

  “Jane, please,” Grandma sneers. “Frankly, Claudia, I think you need a break from Bean. You’ve been together since the first day of college, and it seems like he’s getting ahead of himself. Take time for yourself. Meet other boys.”

  No one responds to that.

  A few seconds later Claudia says, “Well, Mia’s home for her grandparents’ anniversary party this weekend, so we’re going to grab some coffee. Can I borrow the car?”

  “Be home for dinner,” Mom says. “And tell Mia we say hi.”

  Claudia comes into my room before she goes. “They’re crazy,” she whispers.

  I don’t know if I agree. I mean, yeah, sometimes they’re a little hard to take. But in this case I think Bean is the crazy one.

  When I don’t respond to that, she says, “So, what’s new with you, Luce? How’s Yamir?”

  I’m faced with a choice: tell her the truth, because she’s my sister. Or lie to her, like I’ve been lying to everyone else. It becomes surprisingly easy to lie when you’ve been doing it so consistently for so long.

  “He’s okay,” I say. Technically that’s not really a lie, but it’s not saying much of the truth.

  She checks herself out in the mirror above my dresser and smears on some of my lip gloss. “Things are good with you two?”

  “Well, I can’t really say that,” I reply. It turns out I can’t lie to my sister. I mean, I did sort of kiss someone else last night, and Yamir and I broke up.

  “What do you mean?” Claudia turns around, sounding shocked. “Clearly you need to fill me in,” she says. “But I’m almost late to meet Mia. Talk later?”

  I nod.

  Claudia goes out, and the house is quiet again. I think about the conversation Claudia had with Mom and Grandma, and it makes me wonder if she’s telling the truth. It feels like something’s missing from the story. Maybe she’s scared to go into more detail because Mom and Grandma get so intense.

  Maybe we’re all only telling half the story all the time.

  I guess it makes us feel safer that way. We can’t reveal everything or we’ll be vulnerable. If we tell our stories in bits and pieces, there’s time to see how people will respond, time for us to adjust what we say as we go.

  There has to be more to this. Bean’s not crazy. And Claudia hates to leave school, even for a few days.

  I told everyone that things were great with Yamir for so long when they really weren’t so great. I did it because it was easier at the time. But it was just putting off the hard part.

  I guess the hard part comes eventually, no matter what you do.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Be honest. Always be honest.

  Claudia isn’t flying back the next day. She e-mails her professors and keeps up with her work from her missed classes. We still don’t really know why she came home, or what’s going on with Bean. Every time we ask her what she’s thinking, she gives some vague answer that doesn’t make much sense.

  It’s nice to have her around, though.

  She drives me to school on Monday morning. “You seem so tense,” she says. “I get that things between you and Yamir aren’t so great right now. And this Travis kid likes you. So that’s not really a bad thing. But what else?”

  “Well, that’s kind of a lot to have going on all at once, don’t you think?” I ask.

  “It is a lot. But the thing is, people break up, Luce. It’s a fact of life.” I wonder if she’s saying that for me or for herself. Maybe she’s considering breaking up with Bean, because he’s making her decide something that’s two years away. “You’re only in eighth grade. Lots of things are going to change as you get older.”

  “I know that,” I mumble. “But that’s not the only thing going on.”

  “Okay.” She parks in front of the school and turns to me. “Well, if that’s the case, then you need to tell me the other things. You have to tell people what’s happening. People can’t help you if you don’t fill them in.”

  Again, I wonder if she’s saying that for me or for herself.

  I say, “I want to, but it’s harder than it seems. I can’t always explain how I’m feeling. It’s like I’m confused by my own feelings. And if I’m confused, then how can I expect other people to understand?”

  She nods. “I know what you mean. I’m always here to listen, though. And you can talk through the confusion. I’ll try my best to understand.”

  “Thank you,” I say, as I get out of the car. “For the ride and the advice.”

  I walk into school, and Erica is already waiting for me at my locker. “We need to talk,” she says. “Upstairs bathroom in five minutes.”

  Sunny’s sitting on the floor cramming for a social studies test, and she looks up at me. “She’s scary.”

  I nod. I wonder if that’s all
Sunny is going to say to me. She never called me back.

  “You better go,” Sunny tells me after I’ve hung up my coat and put my books in my locker.

  “You want to come?” I ask her.

  “No, thanks.” She doesn’t look up from her social studies book.

  I trudge up the stairs to meet Erica and wish that I had someone with me. She’s pretty much past her pranks, but what if she gets inspired again and pushes my head into the toilet? I don’t think she’s ever done that, and I’ve never heard of that happening outside the movies, but if anyone was going to do it, it would be her.

  I walk in and Erica and Zoe are sitting on the counter next to the sinks.

  “What’s up?” I ask. “Hi, Zoe.”

  “Hey,” she says.

  “First of all, cute skirt,” Erica says. I look down, because I’ve already forgotten what I put on this morning. I’m wearing a burgundy corduroy skirt and thick gray tights.

  “Thanks.”

  “Second of all,” Erica continues, “remember what I said on the phone. I mean it, Lucy. I need this Elias thing to happen. I need you and Yamir to be on good terms.”

  Zoe jumps in. “But if she’s with Yamir, then how can she be with Travis and then help me with Gavin?”

  “Zoe, stop,” Erica whines. “She already tried to help you. She gave you that whole rap idea. So enough. We’ll get to you later.”

  Zoe stops talking and Erica whispers in my ear, “Don’t stress about the Gavin stuff. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like her, so there’s no point spending time on it. We’ll talk later.”

  I look at Zoe, and she’s staring at her dangling feet. I guess their honeymoon period as friends is over. And I’m pretty sure Zoe heard everything Erica just said. She has a loud whisper.

  “Third of all, and most important, the Masquerade is in less than a month. Crunch time. We need to get the makeup schedule figured out; we need to finalize the theme. We need to make sure everyone we care about has a date.”

  I’m not sure I know who would be included in the “everyone we care about” list, so I ignore that part.

  “Okay, let’s have a planning meeting,” I tell them. “We’ll put up some posters telling everyone about the time and place, and whoever wants to come can come.”