Thursday, October 6
Tris and I went to Hannah’s field hockey game today. It was a perfect fall afternoon. Cool air. Lavender sky. Leaves the color of cherries. Smell of woodsmoke. Sometimes New England is so New Englandy.
I know field hockey players are attempting to get the ball into the goal, but that’s where my knowledge of the rules ends. Still, I enjoy watching. It’s like resting your eyes on a fire. And even I can tell Reese is amazing. She whips her stick through the air like it’s a sword and races around with her ponytail flying behind her. Hannah seems pretty good too. She does a lot of screaming on the field, which surprises me, since she’s so mild-mannered in real life.
Halfway through the game, Grady showed up with a friend of his—Elliott, I think his name is. They sat on the sidelines across the field from me and Tris. “What’s Grady doing here?” Tris asked.
“I have no idea,” I said. “I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“Oh,” Tris said, with a question in his voice. I got very focused on ripping up the grass next to my leg and constructing a circular pile with it. He took the hint and didn’t ask me anything else.
Did Grady guess I was going to watch Hannah? Did he come to see me without officially seeing me?
I tried to catch his eye, but he pretended not to notice me.
After they won the game, Reese and Hannah jumped on each other like two puppies.
Friday, October 7
I bumped into Miss Murphy in the hall after school. We were walking in the same direction, so we continued together, awkwardly talking about English stuff. Or, no—I was awkward. She seemed fine.
When we got to the door leading to the parking lot, she hesitated with her hand on the push bar. “Hey, do you want a ride home?” she asked. I must have looked horrified, because she laughed and said, “It was just a suggestion.”
“Oh—yeah. I’m OK. Thanks, though.”
She smiled and said, “Have a good weekend.”
What would people think if they saw me leaving school with her? That’s all I need, for our entire class to decide I’m not actually good at English or acting—that I’m just getting special treatment because I’m best friends with Miss Murphy. English and acting are my only two claims to fame! I need them to survive in this hellscape! And what was Miss Murphy going to do, drop me off and drive away like everything was normal? Or come in to give Dad a smooch?
Saturday, October 8
Asked Dad what’s going on with the mediator. He said they’re not having their first session for a while. He sounded so stiff and uncomfortable that I decided not to torture him anymore, and dropped it.
Sunday, October 9
God, if you exist, thank you for Tristan. He makes my whole life bearable. It was pouring today, but I biked over to his house anyway, and he gave me comfy pants and a T-shirt to change into, and we sat in his bed watching English comedies on his laptop for five hours, and I didn’t think about Miss Murphy the entire time.
I was getting ready to leave when Tris said, “I was thinking maybe I should go to the dance after all.”
I ordered myself not to scare him off by overreacting. “Oh yeah?” I said.
“Roy’s busy taking selfies with hot guys. Why should I sit home by myself missing him?”
“That makes sense.”
Yes yes yes yesssss! The Halloween Lifetime Memory project is ON!
Monday, October 10
No school—Columbus Day. I stopped by CVS on the way to Tris’s house, and as I was walking out I saw Grady and Bear standing by the coin-operated horse in front of that stationery store two doors down. I was going to sneak by without saying hello, but Bear spotted me and solemnly waved, so Grady turned around to look.
“Hi, guys,” I called, walking up to them.
Bear examined me. “You have a blue jacket,” he said. “I have a blue jacket too.”
It seemed rude to loom over him, so I crouched down. “You also have very cool sneakers,” I said.
“They close with Velcro,” he said.
“Wow.” I looked into his perfect little face, and he looked back. Only kids can make the expression he was making: open, watchful, serious.
His eyes moved up to my hair. “Do you have a bun, or a ponytail?”
“Today I have a ponytail,” I said.
“I like it,” Bear said.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, dude,” Grady said. “She’s not into younger guys.” His tone was neutral—he didn’t sound angry or bitter or anything. My eyes jumped to his face. He was smiling, but then again, he was looking at Bear, which would make anyone smile.
“Dogs bark,” Bear said.
“I have a dog,” I said. “Do you want to see?”
He studied a Snickers snap on my phone and then said, “Do you have any pictures of fire trucks?”
Grady said, “No more pictures, bud. We have to go meet Mom. Give Chloe a high five, OK?”
Bear reached out, and I patted his little star of a hand with mine.
If he’s joking around about me not being into younger guys, Grady must be thawing out, right? He must be changing his mind about being friends?
As an experiment, I’m going to ask him if he’s going to the Halloween dance. It’s merely a normal question one friend would ask another.
Tuesday, October 11
That was . . . confusing.
I did it right after homeroom, so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. I found Grady at his locker and, after some preliminaries about how much I love Bear, said, “Do you have your costume all picked out for the dance?”
He instantly looked wary. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’m going as a ghost.”
“Cool. Classic,” I said.
“Are you going?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“OK, well, see you there, maybe,” he said.
Wednesday, October 12
I’ve got it. It’s perfect. I’m going to tell Grady I like him at the Halloween dance.
Thursday, October 13
I’ve examined this plan from every angle, and I can’t find any flaws in it. I wanted to make the dance memorable, and this is the perfect way to do it. The PSATs will be over by the 29th, so I won’t be distracted by having to study for them right as our relationship gets going. And most importantly, confessing my feelings at the dance will be romantic AF.
Friday, October 14
OK, so what exactly am I going to say? “Grady, I made a mistake.” No. Start over. “Grady, it’s true you’re nothing like Mac, and I have to be honest, the age difference still worries me.” Terrible! “Grady, can I talk to you for a second? I’ve been thinking about it, and I have a crush on you, too.” That’s not bad. But is it special enough? Will he remember it in 50 years?
Maybe I’ll wing it. I’m sure something will come to me in the moment.
Saturday, October 15
DEAR LORD THE PSATS ARE ON WEDNESDAY HOW DID THIS HAPPEN WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME
I really do want to study, and I’m going to as soon as I very, very quickly check everything and make sure I’m up to date on new likes, retweets, and comments, and see if there are any new Grady pics since this morning. I need to get that out of the way before I buckle down, or I won’t be able to concentrate.
Sunday, October 16
Emergency last-ditch PSAT study session at Tris’s house with Hannah—called by me, since if I attempt to study alone I wind up staring at my phone for four hours. I wore one of Dad’s old sweatshirts and my lucky pair of yoga pants. Tris was in head-to-toe fleece. Hannah was wearing a dress, since she’d come straight from her youth group meeting at church.
Tris and Hannah tried to explain quadratic equations to me for approximately two hours, but it’s no use. Hannah started out by saying, “So we know a, b, and c are the coefficients, right?” in the same tone of voice you’d use to say something obvious, like, “So we know snow is cold, right?” Then they both looked at me like they were expecting me to say, “Ri
ght, of course,” after which we could briskly move on to the hard part, but instead they saw the panic in my eyes and we had to go back even farther, until we’d regressed all the way to what exactly a square root is.
Monday, October 17
The PSATs are important, but not actually as important as the Halloween dance. I probably won’t even remember my PSAT score when I’m grown-up, but if all goes according to plan, I’ll remember the dance for the rest of my life. So it’s crucial that I take a study break and make a list of possible group costumes, as well as a backup list of solo costumes, in case Tris and Hannah think that’s the way to go.
Tuesday, October 18
I’m doomed! I went to bed at 9 p.m. so I’d be well rested for the PSATs, and now it’s almost midnight! I’ve been thrashing around in bed for three hours! I’m going to be exhausted and brain-dead tomorrow, and I’m going to get a terrible score. Which doesn’t even matter!! It’s just a practice test! The word “PRACTICE” is in the name of the test! What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll get a 400 and my teachers will see it and decide I’m not AP material, and because I’m shut out of AP classes I won’t get into a good college, and I’ll never get a decent job and I won’t be able to move to New York, much less afford my own apartment, and I’ll wind up living with Dad and dying a virgin, like Emily Dickinson, but without the immortal poetry.
Oh my God, the last thing I should be doing is panicking into my diary as time marches on and the PSATs get closer with every passing second. Why can’t I RELAX and GO TO SLEEP?
Wednesday, October 19
I survived. I even kind of had fun?!
We took the test in the cafeteria. Miss Murphy was one of the proctors, which should have been distracting, but which helped. I felt more and more nervous as she read through all the rules about calculators and form codes. By the time she got to the reading test instructions, I was in a panic, and when she said, “Open your test book to Section 1, read the directions, and begin work,” and everyone started reading as fast as they could, I was on the brink of hyperventilating. But she caught my eye and gave me a firm nod, and I calmed down a little. And it was OK! It helped that the first passage was from Ethan Frome, which we read last year. The science excerpts were harder, but I think I basically understood them. The math part was an abomination and I doubt I got even half of the answers right, but maybe my belly flop there will be balanced out by a stellar performance on the writing and language section, which was soooooo easy and basically was like noticing people’s terrible grammar on FB, but even more fun, because on the PSAT the whole point is to fix the mistakes, which unfortunately you cannot do on the internet.
And now I’m going to take some Tylenol for the massive headache pounding in my eyes like tiny hammers made of fire.
Thursday, October 20
The pre-PSAT stress was worth it just for this blissful feeling of knowing I never have to take the PSAT again.
Until next fall.
And then comes the SAT.
The next time a grown-up says, “Youth is wasted on the young,” or “No taxes. No job. Enjoy it while you can,” or “These are the best years of your life,” I’m going to punch him in the junk.
Friday, October 21
I thought I would be so relieved to have the test behind me, and I am, but now there’s nothing to distract me from the terror and excitement of my confession-at-the-dance plan.
Saturday, October 22
I’ve been trying to text Hannah and Tris about our costumes, and the conversation keeps turning to nonessential topics such as Señora Friedman accidentally wearing her sweater backward yesterday (Tris), or whether it’s rude to call someone a “real so-and-so” (Hannah). If they knew what was at stake here, they would be taking this a lot more seriously. Which I do realize is my problem, since I haven’t told them what’s at stake here.
Sunday, October 23
I don’t know why, but Mac keeps popping into my head. I’ll be walking Snickers or taking a shower, and suddenly I see him in my mind’s eye so clearly. I see him looking down at me, or throwing his head back to laugh, or driving his truck with one hand while squeezing my thigh with the other.
It’s impossible that I still have feelings for him. Some primordial part of my lizard brain is trying to sabotage me.
I don’t have to be 100% sure I want to marry Grady. I can go out with him and see what happens. It’s fine. It’s high school!
Monday, October 24
This might be my last week as a spinster. In a few days, I could be one of those people with a couple photo as a profile picture. I could be one half of Chloe and Grady (or maybe people will say his name first: Grady and Chloe). I could be one half of a couple mash-up name. Ghloe! Crady! Groe!
Tuesday, October 25
I finally managed to get Tris and Hannah over for a costume-planning meeting at my house after school by bribing them with candy pumpkins.
“We need to look cool, but like we’re not trying to be cool,” I said. I was pacing around the living room. “And cute, but not intentionally sexy.”
Tris was licking orange dye off his fingers. Hannah was biting into a pumpkin stem-first.
“Guys!” I clapped my hands. “Any ideas?”
“I still think we should go as zombies,” Tris said.
“Or what about puns?” Hannah said. “Like a deviled egg! I could make an egg out of construction paper and wear devil’s horns!”
What part of construction paper egg did she think equaled cool and cute?
“Do you mind sitting down?” Tris asked me. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Chloe, what’s wrong?” Hannah said. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. No,” I said. “Grady’s going to the dance.”
They stared at me. “So what?” Tris said.
“I’m going to tell him I like him,” I said.
“You are?” Tris said.
“Chloe, do not tell him you like him unless you’re sure you do,” Hannah said.
“I’m not sure I do!” I said. “I still think about Mac constantly.”
Hannah was shaking her head with her lips pinched together.
“Is it so bad to try going out with Grady and see how I feel? Why is that a crime?” I said.
“It’s not a crime,” Tris said. “Hannah, stop. You’re being ridiculous. We’re high school kids.”
“Youth is no excuse for treating people badly,” Hannah said.
“Noted,” I said. “Now can we please think of a costume that will make Grady like me back?”
The best we came up with was barnyard animals. I’m going to be a sheep, Tris will be a cow, Hannah will be a chicken, and we’ll make a fence out of cardboard and hold it around ourselves. It doesn’t exactly scream “effortlessly cool,” but Tris convinced me nothing could be more adorable than a face-painted black nose.
Wednesday, October 26
Crafting session at Hannah’s after school. I glued cotton balls all over the torso and hood of a hoody, Hannah taped dishwashing gloves to the ends of her yellow rain boots, and Tris cut black felt into wavy patches to sew on to his white T-shirt and white jeans.
“I have a good feeling about the dance,” I said. “I think it’s going to be exciting.”
“Exciting for you, maybe,” Tris said.
“It stinks that Roy can’t come,” I said.
“I wish Zach weren’t going,” Hannah said. “I’m dreading seeing him.”
“You’ll probably fall in love with some upperclassman we’ve never even met before,” I said. “You’ll see him from across the room during a slow song and your eyes will lock.”
Tris snorted. “I wish there were upperclassmen we’ve never met before. I’m so sick of everyone. I’m even sick of everyone’s clothes.”
“Now imagine if you’d lived in this town since you were born,” I said. Tris is an arriviste. He thinks he’s bored?!
“You could have a boyfriend in three days, Chloe,” Hannah said wistfull
y.
“I’m sure I won’t,” I said, but I was being modest. I probably WILL!
“What’s Noelle going as?” Tris said. He was trying to scrub the dirt off his black-and-white Chuck Taylors, which he’s wearing to complete his cow look.
“She’s not,” I said. “She was going to go with Reese, but obviously that’s not happening anymore.”
“She should come with us!” Hannah said. “She can be a pig or a duck or something!”
I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. It seems dangerous to me, somehow, trying to pull Noelle into my main friend group. What if it’s awkward? What if no one gets along? But Hannah’s right—I should invite her. She’s lonely, and it’s the nice thing to do.
Thursday, October 27
Noelle said yes. “But I’m not going as a pig. That’s ridiculous. I’ll be a sexy farmer.”
Friday, October 28
Saw Grady in the hallway today. His handsomeness made me shy, and so did the secret knowledge of my plan. I waved and scurried away. Am I going to have the nerve do this tomorrow?
Saturday, October 29
187 minutes until the dance. Hannah and Tris and Noelle are on their way over to get ready. I slept for 10 hours last night, I did a mud mask when I woke up, and I’m feeling kind of scared but mostly excited. Here goes something, I guess.
Sunday, October 30
The Year of Living Awkwardly Page 6
