Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have)

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “Tell her that you think she’s overdoing it. That you’re concerned. That you love her.”

  I sighed. “I guess.” Was it really that big a deal? So she worked out a lot. Sometimes in the middle of the night. There were worse ways to handle stress, right? It wasn’t like she was shooting heroin.

  “Good.” She nodded “And I should go home anyway.”

  “What?” I took a step back. “You’re leaving? Why? You don’t have to!”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

  “No! You haven’t at all! This weekend was hectic, yeah, but it’ll be calmer tonight.”

  Marissa looked at the ground. “The truth is I miss my family.”

  Her words were like a kick to my stomach. “I thought you liked being here.”

  “I do,” she said. “But I’ve been gone for five nights. That’s a long time.”

  “But I . . .” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want her to leave. “Don’t go.”

  “I can’t live with you guys forever. We knew I’d have to go home eventually, right?”

  I guess I had. But I hadn’t. I knew it was a stupid thing to think, or to hope, that she’d move in with us for good. Ever since she’d come to stay, I’d been so happy. I’d barely thought about my parents at all. I finally felt like I had a family again.

  But everyone else got to go home.

  Everyone except me.

  number eight

  threw a crazy party

  From: Jake Berman

  Date: Mon, 16 March, 6:10 a.m.

  To: April Berman

  Subject: NYC Visit

  Hi Princess,

  We’re coming to NYC for a wedding the weekend of your birthday—staying at the Plaza. Won’t have time to make it up to Westport—we’re flying into LaGuardia late Saturday morning, wedding’s Saturday at five. Sorry we can’t make it for your actual birthday (present is on the way), but we’re hoping you’ll take the train in and join us for the out-of-towners’ brunch on Sunday?

  Love, Dad

  Sent From BlackBerry

  MONEY WOES

  “So,” Vi said, when she, Lucy, and I were Hulaing. “Is Noah still being a baby about the money you borrowed from Hudson?”

  I cringed as Vi called Noah a baby. I was allowed to think he was being a baby. Vi wasn’t. Just as I was allowed to think Vi was bossy but Noah wasn’t. And no one but me was allowed to think that my parents sucked.

  “Noah’d like me to pay the money off as fast as possible,” I said. “Which makes sense. No one wants to be in debt to someone else.”

  “How much do you still owe?” Lucy asked.

  “Nineteen hundred. At the beginning of the month I’ll have another eight hundred. And hopefully the gift my dad mentioned in his email would be a check.”

  “We should have a fund-raiser,” Vi said, eyes sparkling.

  Lucy leaned back. “What kind? Wash cars?”

  Vi waved no with her index finger. “I am not standing outside in a bathing suit bending over cars. We’ll have a party.”

  “We always have parties,” I said.

  “No, I mean a party.”

  “Like the kind they have in teen movies!” Lucy exclaimed. “The ones where the house gets trashed!”

  “Exactly,” Vi said. “Except without the house-trashing.”

  “I see how that costs us money,” I said. “But how does that make us money?”

  Vi shrugged, as though it were obvious. “We’ll charge people five bucks to get in and then overcharge them for drinks and food. And there you go.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

  “When are you having it?” Lucy asked.

  “Next Saturday night,” she said. “Obviously. On April’s birthday.”

  “Let’s do it on Friday night,” I said. “I have to take the train into the city on Sunday morning and can’t be all hung over.”

  I couldn’t believe my dad was going to New York and making me take the train to see him instead of coming to see me. Not that I really wanted him anywhere near the house. But still. My birthday weekend, yet I had to make all the effort.

  “Friday night then. It’ll be your birthday at midnight anyway.”

  “Woohoo,” I fake cheered.

  “What do you have against birthdays?” Lucy asked.

  Vi laughed. “Here she goes . . .”

  BIRTHDAY BLUES

  The problem with my birthday was not my actual birthday. No, my actual birthdays were usually pretty fun.

  The problem with my birthday was the day afterward.

  March 29.

  It wasn’t just that my parents announced their separation on March 29.

  I got food poisoning from bad shrimp on a March 29.

  My mother’s father had a stroke and died on a March 29.

  I got lost in O’Hare on a March 29 and had to find security, and my mom, dad, Matthew, and I missed our connecting flight.

  Those last three were unintentional. The separation announcement was not. My parents wanted me to have one last happy birthday before telling me the news. Woohoo. Happy birthday to me.

  TEXTS FROM MATTHEW

  Matthew: r you coming to visit this summr?

  Matthew: hellllllo

  Me: hi. Sorry. Not sure.

  Matthew: need to know dates. I’m going to Cleveland but I don’t want to be there when ur here

  Me: I’ll figure it out

  Matthew: When

  Me: soon. xo

  WHO WE INVITED TO THE PARTY

  Everyone.

  Seriously.

  Everyone.

  OUCH

  It was Wednesday morning, two days before our big bash. I was in the bathroom.

  It burned when I peed.

  Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch.

  I flushed and hurried back up the stairs. Vi was on her mat scissoring her legs. “Vi, remember you told me about your mom’s urinary tract infections?”

  “Seriously? That’s what you want to talk about at”—she scissored, then took a break—“seven in the morning?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I think I have one.”

  “Oh, that sucks. Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “My mom hated them. They made her pee every five seconds. But you just have to go to the doctor and they’ll give you amoxicillin. It’s probably from Hula. We have to do a better job managing the pH levels. We’re supposed to add chlorine every day. Not every few weeks. You’ll be fine, though.”

  I motioned to the TV with my chin. “Do you think you overdo it on these DVDs?”

  “No,” she said. Left leg up. Right leg up. Both back down. “I have to work out or I’m going to look like my mom. I’m fighting nature here.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say that to that. When she explained it, it didn’t seem so wrong. Speaking of nature . . .

  “I have to pee again,” I said, running back down the stairs.

  HELLO, AGAIN

  It didn’t burn for the rest of the day so I pushed the experience to the back of my mind and filed it under Annoying Things That Happen That Then Go Away. Like when you misplace your keys but then find them in your jacket pocket along with a loose piece of Trident.

  But it happened again the next afternoon.

  I decided to stop in for a quick visit with Dr. Rosini after school. I didn’t want to have to deal with a urinary tract infection on my birthday. I was probably going to want to have sex on my birthday, and I wasn’t sure if sex and urinary tract infections were compatible.

  “How are the birth control pills working for you?” the doctor asked me when I finally saw her.

  “Great, thanks,” I said. “But that’s not why I’m here. I think I have a urinary tract infection.”

  “Pressure when you pee? Does it burn?”

  “Yup. Not crazy pain or anything but . . . a little. It burned a bit yesterday and today. It’s m
y birthday on Saturday so I thought I’d get it taken care of first. . . .”

  “We can do a urine test right now,” she said, and handed me a cup to pee in.

  Peeing in a cup is harder than you’d think. Well, it’s not the peeing in the cup that’s hard, it’s the not peeing on your fingers. Which I did. Anyway. It did not burn when I peed. Maybe I was here for nothing. I returned to the exam room.

  The doctor put some sort of litmus test in the cup, left the room, and then came back a few minutes later.

  “No, doesn’t seem to be a urinary tract infection,” she said.

  “It’s not? Oh good.” Relief washed over me. “But then what is it?”

  “I wouldn’t worry. It’s probably just a temporary irritation. Have you had sexual intercourse lately?”

  I blushed. “Two nights ago.” And three nights ago. We had sex a lot.

  “It could just be from that,” she said. “But we’ll run a few other tests and let you know what turns up.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “It actually didn’t hurt just now. So maybe it’s gone.”

  “Could be. So we’ll see you next month for your birth control follow-up?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good. And April?”

  “Yes?”

  She smiled. “Happy birthday.”

  MY FOURTEENTH BIRTHDAY

  We had a party in the basement on Oakbrook Road. On my actual birthday. We had fifty kids. And a DJ. I wore a green velvet dress and my first pair of heels. When my cake arrived (chocolate fudge cake, baked by my mom), I wished for a boyfriend.

  If I’d known that my parents were going to announce their separation the next day, I probably would have wished for something else.

  HIT AND RUN

  On Thursday morning I was in the passenger seat of Vi’s car, about a block from school when she suddenly sped up.

  Toward Pinky.

  “Um . . . Vi? You want to slow down?” It was pouring rain, and accelerating was not a great plan. Never mind toward a person.

  “Hmm?” she said, eyeing her prey.

  “Vi! Slow down! You’re going to run her over.”

  She hit the brakes in the middle of the street. “What are you talking about?”

  “What, you don’t see Pinky over there?”

  Pinky stood, clearly a few feet away, in all her tall, gazelle glory. She was wearing a fuchsia raincoat cinched at the waist.

  “Guess she does wear pink,” I said. Pinky hadn’t even noticed what had almost happened. She should really look around once in a while. A girl could get killed if she wasn’t paying attention.

  Vi gripped both hands around the steering wheel. “She thinks she’s so fantastic, Miss Teen Westport, la-di-da.”

  “I thought it wasn’t her fault,” I said wryly. “That her parents made her do it. That she just needed a good role model.”

  “We can’t blame her parents for everything.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I blame my parents for everything.”

  “Well, Pinky didn’t enter the competition at gunpoint. She walked the catwalk. She strutted in her bathing suit and evening gown. She told them she wanted world peace. She participated in the misogynistic ritual. It’s ridiculous. How would men feel if they were dehumanized in beauty pageants?”

  “They’d probably love it,” I said.

  She sighed. “They probably would.”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing it either,” I said, giggling. “Can you imagine Noah and Dean—”

  “—and Hudson.”

  “—and Hudson peacocking their stuff onstage?”

  “Bathing suit? Evening attire? Answering the ‘If you could change one thing in the world what would it be’ question?”

  “Free beer,” I said in a deep voice.

  We both laughed.

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe the next Issue should be about beauty pageants,” she said.

  “You’d have to interview Pinky,” I said.

  She scrunched up her nose. “Never mind. Racism it is.”

  GET READY TO RUMBLE. I MEAN PARTY.

  “You don’t have to have a party just to pay me back,” Hudson said later that day. “Honestly, I’m not in a rush for the money.”

  We were standing in the caf, beside the door. I was waiting for Noah to meet me. “I think Vi just wanted an excuse for a giant bash,” I admitted.

  “Do you know how many people are coming?”

  “The entire world?”

  “Pretty much everyone who goes to school here at least,” he said.

  “True. Plus some people who don’t go to school here.” Aaron was planning on making the drive in again. With Brett. And an additional friend. A single one. We agreed to it on the condition that they only stay one night and that all three had to help us clean the next day, aka, be our slaves.

  I’d believe the last part when I saw it.

  “Are you sure you want to do it? It could get unruly,” Hudson said.

  “I think we can handle it. And you’ll be there for backup, right?”

  He shook his head. “Actually, I already have plans on Friday night.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. I had expected him to be there. “But it’s my birthday!”

  “I thought your birthday was on Saturday.”

  He knew my actual birthday? Aw. “Still. Who do you have plans with? Who’s not coming to our party? I’ll kill ’em.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “I would, actually. What could possibly be more important than my party? Is it Ms. Franklin?”

  He just smiled. “Tell you what. I’ll try to stop by afterward. After midnight. For your real birthday. And some cake.”

  “Oh sure, get your jollies with Ms. Franklin and then swing by for some food. I feel used.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to see Noah. “Hey,” I said, feeling vaguely guilty. “Hudson here has better plans than coming to my party. Is that even possible?”

  “We’ll have to soldier on without you,” Noah said with a tight smile.

  “See you later, guys,” Hudson said before taking off.

  “Why are you always so rude to him?” I asked, squeezing Noah’s side.

  “Why shouldn’t I be? It’s not like he’s nice to me. Anyway, he’s a sketchball.”

  “He’s not.”

  “I heard he’s a dealer.”

  “He isn’t,” I said.

  He looked at me. “How do you know?”

  “I . . . I don’t.” I still didn’t know what Hudson’s story was, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t it. “Are you excited for the party?”

  “I can’t wait,” he said. “It’s going to be crazy fun. I watched Cocktail to prepare.” Noah was going to be the bartender.

  “We’re only serving punch,” I reminded him. “We can’t afford anything else.”

  “Don’t trivialize punch. Especially spiked punch,” he said. “My punch will be gourmet.”

  “Whatever you say, dear.”

  He put his arms around me. “You doubt my abilities?”

  “Never,” I told him. He kissed me, and even here, in the middle of the hall, he made me feel warm and safe.

  THE FIRST KISS

  It was November. Freshman year. It was the Saturday after our lunch with Marissa at the Burger Palace. He’d called me that night and asked me if I wanted to see a movie on Saturday, and I’d agreed.

  On Saturday, I was rummaging in my mother’s drawers for a shirt to wear with my jeans. Instead I stumbled across the divorce papers.

  I ran back to my room, crawled under my covers and called Marissa. “I think I should cancel.”

  “You’re going to stay home and feel sorry for yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. You’re going. Go shower.”

  “I have nothing to wear. I’m not going back to my mom’s room.”

  “I’ll bring clothes. Go shower.”


  I listened, and did my hair and borrowed one of the dresses Marissa had brought over. Noah and his dad picked me up and dropped us off at the theater.

  He put his arm around me in the dark. The weight of it felt good on my shoulders—safe.

  Halfway through the movie, I felt him move closer to me. I turned slightly to him, and he turned slightly to me, and our lips were an inch apart. He looked at me, then leaned in. His lips were sweet and buttery from the popcorn and I thought, This feels nice. I thought, I choose this. I thought, Maybe everything’s going to be okay, after all.

  THE OUTFIT

  “You should keep it,” Vi said when we were getting ready. I was wearing her red dress to my party. The Valentine’s Day red dress.

  “What? No.”

  “Seriously. Consider it your birthday present. It looks better on you than it does on me and it’s already been worn for your oh-so-special-moment so . . . it’s yours.” Vi was wearing tight gray jeans, a plunging, green silk shirt, and big, gold hoop earrings. Her hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail. She looked vaguely gypsyish.

  I threw my arms around her. “Omigod, you’re the best!”

  “Yes. I know,” she said, and clucked her tongue.

  OTHER PRESENTS

  I got a tin of Mittleman Chocolate Company’s freshly baked fudge cookies, wrapped in a blue ribbon. It had been waiting by the door when we got home from school. I assumed they were from Noah, but the card said:

  Love you. Miss you. Wish we were there. Have a sweet birthday. Love, Mom, Daniel, and Matthew

  I kinda wished they were here too. My mom always used to make me her famous chocolate fudge cake, my favorite. Still, under the circumstances I wished she’d sent cash.

  “There are, like, a hundred cookies in here,” Vi said, pulling one out and eating it. “We can sell them at two bucks a pop.”

  My dad had sent a check for three hundred dollars. Officially, the most money he’d ever given me for my birthday. Clearly, he was still feeling guilty about making me kill my cat.

  When Noah arrived at around five, he gave me a cute card and beautiful dangly silver earrings. I put them right in.

  NOAH’S FIRST PRESENT

  Noah gave me a digital frame as a fifteenth-birthday present.

  He had somehow managed to load it with all the photos from my laptop when I hadn’t been paying attention. Images of my friends, my parents, me, him, all popped out at me in random order. Sixth-grade carnival! Mother’s Day last year! Father’s Day two years ago! Marissa and me in front of our lockers! My life remixed. My favorite was a photo of Noah and me that Marissa had taken at school the day before he gave it to me. Sitting together. A couple. I loved that he was mine. I had a boyfriend. My birthday wish had come true, albeit eight months later. I wondered if I had unknowingly made a trade. Parents for boyfriend.