by Deena Lipomi
Devon for what feels like an hour. “Yeah. OK. Tomorrow. But you better not chase me away again.”
I can tell he’s only partly joking. “I won’t. I promise.”
When we hang up, I collapse onto my stomach and plead for Devon to hear my mental prayer: Don’t give up on me. I really, really like you. You make me so happy. I need you.
***
Aunt Hillary and Uncle Bobby pull their SUV into the driveway and I sulk down the stairs. All six of us pile into the roomy vehicle where Aunt Hillary comments on how “precious” Annie and I look, though I’m in jean shorts and a tank top compared to Annie’s skirt and baby-doll top.
“You’re doing all right, Annie?” Uncle Bobby asks from the shotgun seat.
“Of course she is.” Aunt Hillary pulls into the diner parking lot in the center of town. “Just look at her glow.”
Gag. But it’s true; Annie’s golden pink cheeks seem even glowier than they had just a few hours ago. I just wish I was happier about it.
The Riverbank Diner has the best curly fries and lemon meringue pie in the county, which attracts large crowds from all over, especially on weekends. We wait in the foyer for fifteen minutes, and then are moved into the oversized corner booth under the prettiest hanging stained glass lamp, my favorite spot in the restaurant.
It’d be a lot more fun to be here with Devon.
Dad orders mozzarella sticks as an appetizer. When the waitress brings the two baskets, Annie giggles.
“What’s so funny?” Aunt Hillary asks. She’s mom older sister by a few years. They look very similar sitting side-by-side in the booth with their matching haircuts and red lipstick.
“Remember that time we came here and Mel choked on the cheese?” Annie asks.
Dad snorts. “Oh yeah.”
“Wait a minute, why is that funny?” Aunt Hillary asks.
Yeah, why is that funny? I remember coughing my ass off, thinking I was going to die.
Mom nibbles a mozzarella stick. “Mel was always biting off more than she could chew.”
My aunt and uncle groan.
“Mom,” I say.
“Sorry, honey.” She smiles at her lame joke.
“I was like ten years old,” I say, dropping my half eaten cheese stick onto a napkin and sinking into the booth. The crust was too soggy and unseasoned anyway.
“I had my camera with me so I snapped a picture, which made her even madder,” Dad says.
“Remember, Mel? When you tried to tell us to stop laughing?” Annie says reaches for a mozzarella stick. “Except we couldn’t understand you and pieces of chewed up cheese were flying out of your mouth and shooting everywhere.”
“No, I don’t remember,” I mumble.
“OK, OK, that’s enough,” Dad says.
But Annie continues. “It was disgusting. Finally Dad pulled Mel from the booth and pounded her on the back. This huge wad of chewed up cheese shot out of her mouth and landed on someone else’s table.”
I silently steam until I think my head will blow off. Thank god Devon didn’t come to dinner. How could Annie be such a jerk after how I helped her today? I want to storm out of the restaurant, but it would open up more talk about me behind my back, about how I couldn’t take a joke.
What they won’t laugh at are Annie’s mistakes.
“What happened to the picture?” Aunt Hillary asks.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
“It’s got to be in one of the photo albums somewhere,” Dad says, and I see him mentally figuring out where he filed it.
“Just get rid of it,” I snap.
“Oh, honey, we’re just having some fun,” Mom says.
Sure we are. I can’t believe we’re the same family we were a day ago. Annie is the family’s angel: when she is happy, we’re all happy. When she’s in pain, we’re all in pain.
Right.
Dinner continues without any additional references to cheese sticks. After the bill is paid, I leave the diner wishing I’d let Mom get mad at me for bailing on family time and had taken Devon up on his offer for dinner.
Facing her wrath couldn’t have been as bad as the feeling I’m left with now.
Chapter 17
“So, when do we get to meet your boyfriend?” Mom asks the next morning as she fluffs the throw pillows on the couch.
Mom never fluffs the throw pillows.
I stop flipping through TV channels from the recliner. “You really want to meet Devon?”
“Of course I do,” she says. “Invite him in when he comes to pick you up.” She grabs the dust-buster from the coat closet and it wheezes to life, picking up pretzel crumbs from around my feet. Clearly she isn’t going to leave my sight until this happens.
When Devon’s truck pulls into the driveway five minutes later, I reluctantly beckon him inside from the front step. We might as well get this over with. At least there’s no mozzarella sticks around to remind Mom of an embarrassing story.
Devon enters, removes his baseball hat, and smiles his killer smile. I can’t help but smile back. He’s good at this meeting Mom thing.
“Mom, this is Devon.”
She stops dusting as if she had no idea I’d be inviting him in. “Devon, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Mainer.” He extends his hand.
That’s when Dad bustles through with his camera gear, offering Devon a nod before he races out the door to a photo gig. At least the meeting Dad part is easy.
“So Melanie tells me you were biology partners last year?” Mom asks. “Are you the reason for her good lab grades?”
I stifle a groan.
Devon tucks his hat under his arm and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Sure, we were partners, but your daughter is brilliant on her own. I can see where she gets it, Mrs. Mainer.”
I laugh at his sucking up efforts. Mom laughs, too.
“We’ve got to get going,” I say.
“Well, all right,” Mom says. “Devon and I can catch up more another time. Call me if you’ll be late.”
“We will.” I wave goodbye to her over my shoulder and as soon as the door closes behind me I say to Devon, “Thanks for being so cool. About everything.”
“I’m just happy I finally get to see you,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the truck.
I hop into the passenger seat and enjoy the air conditioning against my bare arms. Devon squeezes my leg and I waste no time leaning into him for a solid kiss before he backs out of the driveway.
“Is Annie doing OK?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I don’t want to spoil the mood with talk of my sister.
Devon takes the hint and changes the subject to Blue Falcon, this new indie band he’s listening to, a much safer subject that relaxes me on the sunny drive through town on our way to the creek.
When we arrive, Devon lifts the canoe from the back of the truck and launches it into the water. We paddle together, face to face, like we’re in tune with each other’s every motion.
“Whatcha thinking?” Devon asks as we row past a pair of ducks. Long grasses and cattails shield us from anyone standing on the bank. It’s so calm and private and peaceful. I could tell him anything.
Except what I’ve sworn to keep secret.
“Nothing important,” I say.
Devon adjusts his sunglasses and lays the oars between us. His hand brushes my bare knee. The sunlight glistening off the water makes everything sparkle and the air smells like wildflowers.
“I’ve got something for you,” he says, and reaches into the lower pocket of his cargo shorts.
“What is it?” I ask.
He grins and pulls out a small silver box, the kind that usually holds jewelry, tied with a light blue piece of yarn. It shines in the sunlight against his calloused hands.
“You got me a present?”
“Your birthday’s in a couple days, isn’t it?”
I nod, my heart skipping be
cause he remembered.
“It’s an early birthday present,” he says.
Our fingers touch as he hands me the gift, shooting shivers through my body. I untie the yarn, lift the lid, and slide the contents into one hand. It’s a wooden box, slightly smaller than the cardboard one it was wrapped in, hinged on one side and made of light grained wood. Inside sits a dainty bracelet made of multicolored wooden beads. I slip it onto my wrist, moving cautiously so I don’t drop it into the water since it may be the most precious thing I’ve ever owned.
“This is beautiful,” I say, turning my wrist. “Did you make these beads?”
Devon nervously adjusts his baseball hat in a way that makes me we’re on equal footing. “Yeah.”
I inhale the scent of the garage woodshop wound around my wrist. “I love it. Thank you so much.” I lean into him while tightly gripping my handmade box, unwilling to lose it to the creek. He scoots closer, meeting me halfway, and kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back and don’t turn away, not even when I hear Sal Malone and his friends on the bank behind us.
“Happy birthday,” Devon whispers in my ear.
“Thank you.” I kiss him again, and we’re as close as can be in a canoe on the creek, nothing between us but the sun and the breeze.
If only everything could remain this peaceful, this secure.
Part II: Fall
Chapter 18
The first day of school starts like any other except for one crucial difference: I drive to Ridgecrest High with my fresh driver’s license in my new-to-me silver Corolla instead of hopping a ride with Kasey. I love everything about the car, including its smell, a combination of motor oil, Armor All Wipes, and a vanilla cardboard air freshener. Plus Devon’s dad helped me get a great deal and seemed to like assisting his son’s girlfriend.
“So, you can give us a ride to the mall this weekend, right?” Kasey asks, snapping her sour apple gum on our walk to third period study hall. She wastes no time in cashing in on all the rides I owe her. “I need to buy a new winter jacket. Mitsy had her babies on my old one. Dude, are you sure you don’t want a kitten?”
“That’s disgusting. And no way would Mom give in to the kitten request before I leave for college.” I heft my books into the crook of my arm.
“Where do you think you’ll be going?” She elbows me to make her point that I don’t have a clue.
College applications are due in less than two months and I’m paralyzed. Which schools are worth going into debt over if I don’t even know what to study? How can I pick a major when I can’t even pick an outfit that consists of more than jeans and a t-shirt?
“Maybe I’ll just go to Europe,” I reply and pull open the door to our study hall classroom.
Justine sits in the front row and throws me an evil eye and smirk. Great. I cower behind Kasey and slink to an empty desk at the opposite side of the room.
“So? What’s your answer?” Kasey asks before the bell rings.
“Cambridge University ought to have a major for me,” I say. “Maybe I can pick up an accent.”
“Not about college. About the mall,” Kasey says.
“Yes, we can go to the mall as long as you buy me a frozen custard.” After I say it I hope Justine didn’t hear me. The last thing I need is for the school year to start with a fresh round of fat jokes.
Kasey snaps her gum. “If I agree to the ice cream, will you apply to UCSD with me?”
I glance at the back of Justine’s head and think how great it would be to start school with a friend.
“Sure, if you fill out the paperwork,” I say. “With your SAT scores.”
Kasey shakes her head. “Not a chance.”
***
“Hey, Melanie.”
The voice comes from behind while I crouch down in front of my locker to stash my books. It’s a guy’s voice, one that I recognize though it’s the first time it’s spoken my name.
I pivot and look up from the floor. Sal Malone stares down at me. Some new girl hovers to his left and Justine is on his right.
“Uh, yeah?” I hope my face doesn’t look as red as it feels.
“I’m having a party this weekend. You and your sister should come,” he says.
“Really?” I’m not sure if my response comes off snotty or in awe. I was aiming for uninterested.
“Yeah,” Justine says. “I told Sal he should totally invite you guys. I haven’t seen Annie in forever.” She dares me with her eyes to say something about why Annie ditched her this summer.
“Um, we’ll see.” I turn back to my locker, wishing there was room for me to climb in and shut the door.
“Cool,” Sal says, and his footsteps fade away. The girl with him leaves, too. Their part of this game is done.
Justine, on the other hand, isn’t through with me. Clearly she put Sal up to this invitation.
“I haven’t seen your sister today,” she says. “Was she sent to a convent or something?”
I stumble back onto my butt. Just the move I was hoping for. I smother a grunt and say, “She’s in advanced classes. Aren’t you in remedial?”
She huffs and gets down in my face. “I could tell everyone, you know.” Before I can respond, she straightens and struts down the hall in her heeled sandals.
I freeze until I’m sure she’s gone and then hurry upstairs to fifth period where Kasey waits for me outside our science classroom, my knees wobbling the whole way. I shouldn’t let Justine get to me, but clearly I do as I spill the story to Kasey.
“I bet Justine’s pissed at Annie for blowing her off all summer and jealous of whoever has replaced her,” Kasey says.
Annie did say that Justine had her own problems at home, but I can’t imagine that they’d lead her to be jealous of her pregnant friend.
“I see someone who’ll make you feel better.” Kasey winks and bounces into our classroom.
“Hey,” Devon breathes in my ear before kissing me on the cheek.
“Hi.” We enter the classroom hand-in-hand and I do feel better.
Too bad it’s temporary.
***
“We heard you talking about me to Phil.” I recognize Justine’s voice before I see her at Annie’s locker at the end of the day. “On prom night, don’t you remember?”
“What are you talking about?” Annie says, all attitude. “I wasn’t talking about you to Phil.”
“Who were you talking about then?” Chloe asks, Justine’s henchwoman in this attack. “What’s going on?”
I cower in the bathroom doorway, inhaling hairspray and cheap perfume rather than walk into the line of fire.
“Nothing’s going on,” Annie says, slamming her locker open so it bangs against the one beside it. “Nothing that’s any of your business.”
“Obviously not. You never call, you never hang out.” Justine fakes a hurt look. “If you don’t want to tell us what happened this summer, then I guess that’s fine. We don’t want to be friends with a slut anyway.”
That’s when I lose it. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Annie ducks down as I charge the pair and stop short of throttling them.
Justine freezes in surprise and then recomposes herself. “You sisters deserve each other.”
“Well so do you two bitches,” I shout, a rage I’ve never felt before searing into my bones. Not when kids made fun of Annie’s “squinty eyes,” not when girls called me fat, never have I been so out of control with anger that my every cell has shook. Until now.
Annie’s former friends cackle and push through the junior hall, suddenly in a hurry to escape. Probably so a teacher doesn’t catch us screaming at each other.
I kneel beside Annie, closing my eyes against the red clouding my vision. I wonder if anyone is starting the rumor that Annie’s pregnant, if they could get that from Justine’s rants.
“Hey,” Annie says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “You all right?”
I lift my head, hoping my blood is flowing normally and I’m not on the verge o
f an aneurism. Exhausted now I ask, “How could you stand them?”
The final bell rings and the hall begins to clear.
“It’s my fault,” Annie says quietly. Her belly’s slightly visible through her white shirt, where her hand rests. “I should’ve just told them everything this summer.”
Lots of things are Annie’s fault, but Justine being nasty is not one of them. “Why are you so…tolerant of her?” What I really mean is, why doesn’t she hate her?
Annie grabs her jacket and closes her locker. “Because she has her own crap to deal with.”
“Like what?” I ask.
Annie sighs. “I don’t want to gossip about her family. I swore I wouldn’t.”
I guess my sister knows something about keeping tough secrets too. Even about people who don’t deserve her allegiance.
“Besides,” Annie says, “it won’t make a difference. I knew she’d be like this.”
I shift my bag onto my shoulder. “You said that they’d harass you for details, not that they’d terrorize you.”
“I’m not terrorized.” Her tone is less confident, but her face, hair, and clothes are composed and perfect. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if Justine is jealous of Annie, like Kasey said.
Especially since before this summer I’d experienced that jealousy myself.
Chapter 19
“I’ve got something for you,” I say to Devon, the phone crooked against my ear. “Can you stop over?” I spoon mounds of cookie dough onto a baking sheet, inhaling the vanilla-chocolate deliciousness from the first batch in the oven.
“How can I pass that up?” he asks. “I’ll be over in twenty?”
“Perfect.” I’m finally making Devon his promised batch of chocolate chip cookies. I did bake him a devil’s food cupcake with raspberry filling last week and a deep-dish pizza with fresh basil after that, but I owe him his special request.
At nine o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rings. Mom gives me the one-eyed glare from the couch where she’s reading her gardening magazine, obviously annoyed at the visiting hour on a school night.
