If only I weren’t still so, so attracted to him. There are a lot of good things about Simon. A lot that I’ll miss. Like holding on to him. Looking into his eyes. His voice. Kissing him.
Aside from lust … he’s basically a good person. He makes me feel wanted. Sometimes he makes me feel I’m special. He showed me something important about how to be social. He opened doors for me.
Now I have to close a door for him. An Alice-sized door.
Even if we had a fight, I don’t think he’s expecting me to say I’m done.
How am I going to do it?
We get bundled up and head to Golden Gardens, wind chilling us.
We spread out a blanket he brought and sip red wine he snuck from his kitchen out of plastic cups. His arm is around me.
“Are you cold?” he asks, and I nod before I can think.
He stands, takes my hand, wraps the blanket around my shoulders, and leads me to his dad’s car in the parking lot.
When we get there, he opens the front door for me.
Then he takes the blanket and opens the back door, spreading it on the backseat. “In case we want to get comfortable.”
Who knows what we might do back there? Except, I know. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing but me breaking up with my first boyfriend. But how?
He comes around to the driver’s side and slides in next to me.
I’m taking the tiniest sips of wine, like Jewel with his first latte that time when we were twelve. I’m only pretending to drink it. I’m only pretending to like this.
The beach is like a film with smells. Seaweedy. Fishy. Lights from across the bay reflecting off the gently pulsing water.
Simon’s hand on my knee is fire. I look at him and I can tell I look good.
He tosses his empty cup on the floor.
I worry about it getting caught under the brake pedal when he drives me home in a few minutes.
He takes my cup, sets it on the dash.
I never wanted to be getting it on in some car.
I never wanted to be drinking to get myself there.
“Come here,” he says.
How do I say this?
“Simon, I … I need to go home.”
He looks at me.
I can’t face his eyes. I look at the dashboard.
How can I explain that I’m not this girl now? That I need something else? That I had a great time with him, but he’s not … who I need? I’m not ready to be his girlfriend. Or anyone’s.
He’s listening. “Simon … you’re … amazing. When we fool around, I love that. I do. I’m sure you know. God … the way you kiss.”
He squeezes my hand. “So what’s the problem?”
“It’s … I like … how you see me. I thought I was invisible before you.”
“No way. I wanted to talk to you for so long before we ever did.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true.”
“I believe it now.”
He’s still holding my hand, stroking it with his thumb.
“What I didn’t realize is that having a boyfriend isn’t enough to make me …”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know. It’s like I’m always trying to figure out how to be comfortable with myself. And dating you has been amazing and I’ve loved it. Which is good. Which is what I wanted a month ago. But I still don’t feel … right.”
“But what did I do?” His thumb is still.
“You did everything right. You’re amazing.”
“So …”
“It’s just about feelings that are … hard to explain. Like I hesitated to tell you about my Dove Girl.”
“I guess I’ve noticed that you don’t always let me in. That’s why I thought I was the one more into it. But things seemed okay after we talked on the phone after Corrigan’s party.”
“She’s a poster.”
“The Dove Girl?”
“She’s who I talk to. She’s like my symbol of peace. I talk to her because I don’t think I have anyone else to talk to.”
“That’s crazy. You’ve got …”
“Jewel.”
“And me.”
“I did. But now I realize that I can’t force it. The connection, I mean. I had a crush on you. A huge crush.”
“So …”
“I’m just not melting with you anymore. I’m not … ready. Or something.”
He’s silent for a full minute. “Melting? Alice.” He looks at me. “You’ve been kind of … my best friend lately.” His eyes start to water. “I meant it when I said I’m not into the whole football scene. I’m … I want to keep seeing you.”
I’m tempted to touch his cheek. But I can stop that impulse. I can resist him; that’s the problem. I’m being pulled another way.
“I wish I could be what you want, Simon. I really do. But I just … I just can’t.”
Then he drops my hand.
I know that was the last time.
Chapter Twenty
•
•
•
The weirdest part of Monday is art workshop. Vanessa smiles at me as soon as I walk in the door.
It’s not her usual thing either. The smile’s somehow sympathetic.
We could be a photo. Vanessa with that smile, me with a mirror image.
Girls bonded by broken hearts.
Even if I’m the one who ended things with Simon, my heart is a little broken. I’m back to being alone. At least, that’s what I think when I feel insecure. Then I tell myself I have a new chance with Jewel, a new friend in Mandy, and maybe even … a nonenemy in Vanessa.
I’m deep inside my sweatshirt hood, hoping Mr. Smith will realize I don’t feel like being talked to.
I haven’t finished the new art portfolio cover yet.
Okay, I haven’t even thought of an idea for it.
My sketchpad is in front of me, open to the first blank page. The page after my last, best attempt at my Dove Girl.
I need to do something new. Absolutely.
Mr. Smith wants more Alice in my work.
If I close my eyes, I can see colors swirling on my closed lids. Shapes that pulse, glide, and fade. I can see glass, heating and cooling.
I see a series of tiny glass globes. What colors? I’ll ask Jim when I can start learning to add color. I slip my hood down and begin to draw.
Vanessa’s watching from across the room, always watching when I talk to Mr. Smith.
Her latest work is clay sculptures of tiny animals. They’re beautiful.
Mr. Smith is working with the letterpress.
“I don’t want to do the portfolio cover,” I tell him. “I’m just not really into it. I’ve got some good ideas for other things.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, the way he does when he realizes that he’s a teacher and not just an artist who happens to work in a school.
“Let Vanessa do it,” I say. “She’ll do a better job.”
I walk home alone. The rain is heavier than usual and I can hear it pinging my hood. I’ll have to change my jeans when I get home.
Just as I’m passing John, the homeless guy, sitting outside Caffe Ladro getting soaked, Jewel comes up beside me.
He doesn’t say anything.
We walk a whole block with both of us looking down at our sneakers.
“Troll?” he says, and I follow.
It’s drier up by the troll, under his bridge. I take down my hood.
“Hey, your ponytail’s back.”
For just a second, it’s like we’ve stepped back in time, to another day at the troll. Maybe even to our kiss day. The graffiti on the VW is gone now; the troll’s back to normal.
I take three steps to cover the distance between us and sink into a Jewel-hug. I tingle. That old tingle. Should I act on it? Should I kiss Jewel?
No. I just want to be friends again, at least for a while. His hands feel strong. He smells so good, familiar. That’s what I really need.
; “It feels great to be friends again,” I say. “I never stopped feeling like you’re my best friend.”
“You said the F-word.”
Oh, no. Is he going to explode because I only want to be friends?
He narrows his eyes. “I’ll accept that for now.”
We climb up the troll’s back and sit.
The news of me hooking up with Simon and Jewel hooking up with Vanessa was huge. My reunion with Jewel is nothing. Only, it’s everything.
When Vanessa sees me in art workshop the next day, she kind of smiles, but her eyes look sad.
She doesn’t roll her eyes anymore.
She closes them.
Jewel and I are halfway through root beer floats with chocolate syrup when I shift on my kitchen chair and tell him what I think. “Vanessa really misses you.”
It’s not until then that I realize that Jewel and I have totally avoided the subject of Vanessa.
“I know,” he says. “Because of the string.”
I chew on my straw, waiting for him to explain.
“She wears strings around her wrist.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve noticed that. Never really thought about it.”
“It’s a cool idea, actually.” He sips his float. “They’re color-coded depending on her mood.”
“Oh, so like red might be ‘happy.’”
“‘Happy’ is purple, but yeah.”
“So, what? She’s been wearing something bad?”
He sucks the dregs of his float before answering.
“Black.”
“Bad.”
“It’s the worst.”
That night, the phone rings. “Hi.”
“Mandy?”
“Hey, chica.”
“Hey.” I picture her sitting on her pink bed with fluffy covers.
“So you and Simon are over?”
It’s nice of her to call.
“Yeah.”
“I just wanted to say that, you know, you could still sit with us at lunch.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That’s really sweet. But I don’t think I want to be around Simon for a while.”
“Oh!” She sounds surprised. “I didn’t mean that us. I’m so over those boys, with all their macho-macho stuff. Do you know Corrigan expected me to let him go under my skirt at that party last Saturday? We’re not even dating. I’m just supposed to be in awe of his football-hero thing because I’m a cheerleader.”
“Eew. Somehow I’m not surprised. But eew.”
“Yeah, so I just mean me and my girls. For lunch.”
“That sounds great.”
In Spanish, I see Simon. “Hey.” I smile at him.
“Hi.” He nods. It’s weird how so much can turn into so little.
Luckily Señora Rodriguez announces that we’re switching conversation groups today.
My new group: two sophomore friends of Molly’s, and Vanessa.
She’s sitting right in front of me, that black string tied around her wrist. Double-knotted.
In our books we’ve moved on from colors to foods.
The “yo quiero Taco Bell” jokes are never-ending and Molly’s two friends are two of the biggest perpetrators.
“Taquito!”
Pink fingernails tapping on the desk.
“Gordito!”
Cackle.
“Muchos nachos!”
Vanessa winces.
“Um,” I say. “Let’s do breakfast. Yo quiero a comer huevos. I want to eat eggs.”
Vanessa and I are both good in this class. Really good.
So I get it when she tells me in Spanish that what she wants to do with the huevos is crack them in the loud girls’ pretty hair.
My turn to cackle.
Vanessa approaches me at my locker, almost smiling. She’s holding a paper lunch sack. The string around her wrist is blue.
She hands the sack to me. “Open that.”
It’s a white dove, clay.
“I hope you like it,” she says. “Jewel told me a couple times about your poster.”
“Wow,” I say, holding it carefully. What a present!
I love it. She gets me. Vanessa is someone I could be friends with. Who knew?
“You’re not mad, are you?” she asks. “I know it’s private, but Jewel only told me ’cause he thought it was cool. I think it is too.”
“Mad? No way. This is … lovely. Thanks.”
Now that I’m out of my cocoon, and past being a girlfriend, I’m just me, finding my way through the halls. Eating lunch with Mandy and her friends. Talking about art with Vanessa. Doing what I do.
Friday at the end of la clase de español, Simon’s off to football practice without a glance in my direction. Vanessa’s headed to put some finishing touches on something in the art studio. Otherwise, maybe we’d hang out after school today. We’re about at that point.
After she walks away down the hall, Jewel appears right behind me.
I turn around. “Let’s go get a movie.”
So my best friend and I head home.
On the way, I feel static between our bodies. Maybe we’re just getting used to each other again. Maybe we’re charged with some new feelings.
Does he still want to kiss me? The idea makes me smile. I might soon decide to attack him with my own kisses.
But for now, just walking to Rain City is enough.
I reach out and take Jewel’s hand.
Acknowledgments
•
•
•
Thank you, thank you, thank you, to …
Wendy Lamb and her team at Random House: Ruth Homberg, Robert Warren, Kaitlin McCafferty, Andrew Bast, and Katie Harmon.
Rosemary Stimola, Miracle Agent.
My Vermont College advisors: Lisa Jahn-Clough, Ron Koertge, Tobin Anderson, and Cynthia Leitich-Smith. What a lineup. What a dream come true.
The Vermont College MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults faculty, and my VC friends—especially my lovely classmates.
Anita Silvey, for the scholarship and for her enthusiasm.
Lara Zeises, unofficial mentor in all things YA.
The staff at All for Kids Books & Music, where YA literature is loved and understood.
My family and friends, who have been eternally patient in waiting to read this novel. Glad it’s finally in your hands.
Thanks to Random House for helping me try to find a permissions source so that we could use an image of Alice’s Dove Girl in this book. Sadly, it was not possible to obtain permission to reproduce that well-known image by Picasso.
About the Author
•
•
•
Liz Gallagher grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia and was an English major at Penn State. She worked on the editorial staff of Highlights for Children. She is a graduate of the University of Denver Publishing Institute and the Vermont College MFA program in writing for children and young adults. Her home in Seattle is within chomping distance of the Fremont Troll. This novel is her first, and her dream come true. Visit her online at www.lizgallagher.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Liz Gallagher
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Laurel-Leaf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published in hardcover by Wendy Lamb Books, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, in 2008.
Laurel-Leaf and the colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/teens
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition of this work as follows:
Gallagher, Liz
.
The opposite of invisible / Liz Gallagher.
p. cm.
Summary: Artistic Seattle sophomore Alice decides to emerge from her cocoon and date a football player,
which causes a rift between her and her best friend, a boy who wants to be more than just friends.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89287-5
RL: 5.8
[1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction. 4. Art-
Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction. 7. Seattle (Wash.)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.G13556Op 2008
[Fic]—dc22 2007011334
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Book by This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
The Opposite of Invisible Page 11
