American Girl On Saturn

by Nikki Godwin

  There she is – my Aralie. The girl who curses people out if they say something about someone she loves. The girl who has to be held back because she really will kick a guy in his guy parts. The girl who lived across the hall before Spaceships Around Saturn joined us on a lockdown. They’ve softened her…a lot. I like the nicer, less-edgy Aralie. But some days, I need that wild child in her to resurface. Like today.

  “Look,” I say. “When lockdown ends, you have a memory card full of pictures that will be the envy of girls all over the world. You can post them. Tag me in them. Tag Mom in them. Make sure everyone who could possibly see them does. Including Paige. So you have to keep her for now, just long enough for revenge.”

  My sister laughs manically.

  “Oh! I have to show you something,” she says.

  She dashes out of my room and returns with her digital camera. She’s used it more during lockdown than she has in the last year. The only other time I remember her taking so many pictures was at the Sebastian’s Shadow concert.

  “Look,” she says, flashing a picture of Milo and me from last night.

  We’re on the back patio with twinkle lights glowing behind us. I remember the moment. Aralie interrupted us while we were discussing how we were going to be able to sneak out later. She screamed for us to ‘look happy,’ so Milo pulled me into him and smiled. We look unbelievably happy.

  “You know,” Aralie says. “If he wasn’t all famous and stuff, he could pass for your boyfriend.”

  Right. Because a famous guy wouldn’t actually be my real boyfriend. I know she doesn’t mean it the way it sounds. I don’t even care. At least I’m not dating Tate.

  She flips through her hundreds of photos, showing me the funniest and cutest ones. She’s basically documented all of lockdown on that memory card. I hope she’s backed up those pictures somewhere. My heart will mutilate itself if we lose them.

  As soon as Aralie leaves my bedroom to play Xbox with Tate, I untag myself from all of Paige’s pictures. I do my best not to read the comments, but my God, so many people are eating the drama like it’s their favorite desserts. All of these idiots from high school have something to say, like it’s any of their business. Most of these people didn’t even talk to me in school. I don’t recognize some names, but apparently, everyone knows who we are.

  The last photo is another of Paige and Deacon. All freaking thirty-six pictures were of them. But this one is more genuine. It’s reminiscent of Aralie’s photo of Milo and me. I bet Paige sweet talked him and told him to look cute so she could post it on Facebook immediately.

  Yes, Facebook. I do want to remove myself from the photo. Just like all of the other ones. I wish I could remove these images from my mind altogether. I wish I could remove Paige and Deacon from my life for good. If only you could unfriend, delete, and block people in reality like you can on social media accounts.

  I sign off and push my laptop away. I want to cry. And I can’t tell anyone that I want to cry because everyone will take it the wrong way.

  I’m not sad because of Deacon, and I definitely don’t want him. I’m so beyond over him. I’ve been over him because he’s an idiot. In fact, I want him to move on with some other girl so everyone can gawk over her and forget about me.

  I’m sad about Paige. Because she was supposed to be my friend. Because she was the only one who stuck by me. Because lockdown happened and she knows I’ve been lying to her so she did this to me in retaliation. But most of all, I’m sad because the one person who I thought would always be there turned out to be someone who was never truly my friend in the first place.

  Ugh. I need to vent and cry and curse and scream, and I can’t because Mom and Aralie will think I’m hurt over Deacon. I can’t tell Milo because that’d just be stupid. No one tells the new guy about anything that relates to the old guy. I just need to be mad about Paige.

  And I know who will let me.

  Noah carries a glass of strawberry milk outside with us. He’s already heard from Mom. She panicked over breakfast when she saw the photos. Luckily Noah and Benji were the only ones in the room with her at the time.

  We sit on our lounge chair from last night. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Noah forced Milo to swap seats with him so I’d stop stealing his fries. I wish I could just rewind all of it. I’d still take his fries, but I wouldn’t have logged onto Facebook this morning.

  “So, let’s talk about it,” Noah says after one sip.

  I can’t wait to brag to the Saturnites of the world that Noah actually talks to me before he finishes his glass of strawberry milk each morning. Milo told me that lockdown has been the only time he’s ever seen Noah talk before finishing his milk. It makes me happy, like I have a real friend who’ll let me ramble about life and cry on his shoulder even though it disrupts his morning milk intake.

  “I hate my life,” I say. I sound just like Emery. “Paige is a backstabber, Deacon is the biggest idiot alive, and everyone in this freaking town is laughing at me.”

  “Umm,” Noah says. “I’m not laughing.”

  Why does it feel like the world is crashing down around me? After prom, I thought things couldn’t get much worse. Then lockdown happened, and my summer was cancelled. And Paige backstabbed me and made a mockery of me. I admit – lockdown hasn’t been bad. Lockdown is going to end, though. What will happen then? Yeah, I like to believe it’ll all work out and there’ll be a happily ever after, but when does that really ever happen?

  “You know what you need?” Noah asks.

  I look up from my own self-pity. His green eyes stare back at me through his messy dark hair. I didn’t think he could look any more punk rocker when he got here, but in two weeks, he’s grunged up a lot. He looks more ‘bad boy’ than Jules does. I hope his stylist never makes him wear old man golf shorts again. They’re so not Noah.

  “What do I need, Noah?” I ask, as much as I don’t want to hear his goofy answer, whatever it may be.

  “A new best friend,” he says. “You know, someone who listens to your problems, even when he hasn’t had his milk yet. Someone who keeps your new boyfriend a secret from everyone, even though it makes him look like an idiot sometimes. Or – best yet – someone who still covers for you after you pull him into the pool...fully dressed.”

  For what feels like the first time in ages, I laugh. Noah’s right. I need a new best friend, and he’s more than proven himself. Besides, if I’m going to make this thing with Milo work, I might as well finally let Noah in the loop because they’re a package deal of sorts.

  “None of this will matter after lockdown anyway,” Noah says. “Your life is gonna change so much. These people are going to feel like idiots.”

  Aralie’s face flashes through my mind. She’ll find too much pleasure in posting her lockdown pictures when this is over. I can’t even blame her. I hope she tags me in every single one of them. So what if I haven’t been one-hundred percent honest this summer? I couldn’t be. My entire family has had to lie to protect Spaceships Around Saturn. The government made us do it.

  “You know what else?” Noah asks, placing a hand on my back like I’m Emery’s age and in need of comfort.

  I glance up and wait for his next monologue. Poor guy. He doesn’t realize I’m agreeing with everything he says in my brain.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Not to get all bromantic on you or anything,” he says. “But Milo is a hell of a lot hotter than that thing you dated before.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “That’s not bromantic at all.”

  Noah laughs and opens his mouth to say something, but the words never come. He watches behind me, through the patio door. Then he quickly looks away.

  “Your boy’s up,” he says. “He just walked into the kitchen with Tate.”

  I can’t see Milo. Not yet. I can’t face him when I’m still a mess of nerves and anger about Paige. I can’t tell him why I’m upset, and I know myself well enough to know that I can’t just fake it until I make it.
I can’t let him think for half a second that I’m upset over Deacon. This is not the time for wrong impressions.

  “I can’t see him,” I tell Noah. “I need a few hours to just…get my thoughts straight about Paige. Just to be mad and then calm down. I know, it’s stupid, but maybe it’s a girl thing. I just can’t face him yet. I don’t want him to know anything’s wrong.”

  Noah takes a huge gulp of his milk, chugging a third of the glass at once.

  “I’ll distract him,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Give me a minute to get in there. Then you can slip in and go back upstairs. I’ll keep him away for as long as I can.”

  “You’re the best,” I say.

  He laughs. “Just remember that next time you want to push or pull me into the pool.”

  I watch Noah through the glass door as he makes his way over to Milo. He talks with his hands. Milo’s mouth scrunches to one side. Maybe Noah is pitching some big songwriting idea to him or a concept for their next music video. Whatever it is, Milo’s deep thinking.

  Emery rushes out onto the patio before I can go inside. I hope she doesn’t expect me to watch Darby’s Daily Dose of Drama today. Or make friendship bracelets. Or draw more Saturn hearts with rings on posters.

  “Chloe!” she shouts. “Do you know what today is?”

  Yes, Emery, I do. Today is the one day of lockdown where I want to avoid all things Saturn and all things Milo…at least until midnight.

  “What is today?” I ask.

  She crosses her arms and glares at me. “You better notta forgot!”

  The galaxies align and shoot stars and fireworks across the universe.

  “Of course not,” I say, realizing that I’m utterly screwed. “I’d never forget your birthday.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I manage to get inside, up the stairs, and almost to my bedroom door. I don’t make the journey alone, though. The one and only Benji Baccarini follows me. For this to be Emery’s birthday – aka the day she gets anything and everything she wants – I’m surprised she’s not behind us.

  He falls back on my bed, stretches out, and makes himself too much at home. Even with as many times as Milo has stepped into my bedroom, it feels weird having Benji in here. It doesn’t matter if I’ve been on lockdown with him for two weeks. He’s still intangible to me. He’s still Benji Bikini. He’s been on Emery’s bedroom walls for over a year. Having him in my bedroom takes surreal to a whole new level.

  “So, I think I know how I want the rocket,” Benji says, holding his arm out. “Third time’s a charm, eh?”

  I’ve drawn and redrawn and redrawn his rocket ship – on his arm, on paper, on the inside cover of his tattoo magazine. He maps out exactly what he wants along his forearm. I grab my bag of Sharpies and don’t even bother telling him I’ll do it later. I need a distraction, and Benji is as good as any other.

  After ten minutes, Benji sighs loudly. I glance up from his arm and the rocket I’ve drawn too many times.

  “Your friend really sucks,” he says. “Ms. Shelly showed Noah and me the pics this morning. What a bitch to do that to you.”

  The rest of this town may not be on my side, but Benji Baccarini and Noah Winters are.

  “It’ll work out,” I say. I don’t sound very convincing, though. “Aralie will blow up Facebook once lockdown is over and post every picture she has.”

  “Dude! Hit me up on Twitter too,” he says. “I’ll retweet all the freaking time.”

  Emery rushes into my bedroom. “And tweet about me!” she yells.

  I keep a tight grip on my Sharpie as Emery bounces onto the end of the bed. She turns her back to us and fiddles with the magnets on my file cabinet. After they’ve been rearranged to her satisfaction, she looks back.

  “I need you to come downstairs with me,” she says. “Both of you. It’s my birthday, and I want to play a game with everybody.”

  I color in the rest of the rocket quickly, and then Emery leads us down to Dad’s game room, where the rest of Spaceships Around Saturn plus Aralie have gathered. Noah sits next to Milo, on the far side of the room. I sit with Benji, closest to the doorway.

  Emery skips toward the center of the room and steps up on the coffee table.

  “For my birthday, I want us to play house,” she says. “And Benji is going to marry me.”

  Oh God. I cannot sit through playing house with Emery. This is just opening up a can of mutant worms from another planet, and her little now-six-year-old brain has no clue. You can’t marry people off when romances are happening behind closed doors.

  “Aralie can marry Jules,” Emery says. “Because Mom says you guys fight like a married couple all the time.”

  Aralie jumps up from the sectional, leaving her spot next to Tate.

  “I’m not marrying Jules,” she says. “I can’t and I won’t. There’s no way.”

  “Fine,” Emery says through clenched teeth. She sits on the table beneath her. “Just marry Tate then.”

  Emery’s eyebrows pull together, and her eyes turn to small slits. Why is she so angry that Aralie won’t marry Jules? I get it, it’s Emery’s birthday and she gets her way, but who really cares if Aralie marries Jules in a game of house? She’s hooking up with Tate anyway. It’s only right that she “marries” him.

  Aralie resumes her spot next to Tate, and Emery’s shoulders slump as she sighs.

  “Chloe,” Emery says. Oh this is it. She’s about to reveal my fate. “You can marry Milo since he was naked in your bedroom.”

  I never thought a day would come where I’d want to avoid Milo, but today is that day. I just can’t handle it yet. My mind is still wrecked from Paige. I haven’t had time to thoroughly cry or break things or rip up pictures of her.

  “I don’t think so,” Noah says. “Milo wasn’t naked in Chloe’s room, and it’s not fair to force them on each other just because of a misunderstanding. Plus it just makes things awkward, so I’ll marry Chloe and give Milo a break.”

  “Oh you will?” Milo asks.

  The expression on his face kills me. It’s a look of confusion. Maybe hurt. Maybe betrayal?

  Noah gives him a “you know better” look that I don’t think anyone else picks up on. He stares at Milo the way Benji and Jules stare at each other when they’re relaying cosmic messages.

  “I was just trying to defend you,” Noah says. “You can have Chloe if you want her.”

  “No,” Milo says. “I think you’re right. It’s just awkward. She’s all yours.”

  Well, that hurts. There’s a sting in his voice. He’s mad. What does he want me to do? Announce over Emery’s birthday cake that we’ve been sneaking out together at midnight for two weeks? Ugh. I can’t even look at him. I stare at the fake rocket tattoo on Benji’s arm instead.

  Emery stands up and walks around the room. She stops in front of Jules.

  “Since Aralie won’t marry you, I guess you can be my dog,” she says.

  Aralie’s laughter echoes throughout our entire house. I bring my legs up onto the sectional, pull my knees toward my chest, and bury my face so I can’t see anyone else. I don’t want to see Milo flip out on Emery when she tells him that he can be my and Noah’s pet.

  Jules shouts that there’s no way in hell he’s being a dog. Aralie makes a snide remark that he can date Milo. Then Noah asks if gay marriage is even legal in our state.

  I turn my head and look at Benji. He slouches next to me on the sectional, examining the rocket on his arm like he’s making changes again in his mind.

  “I quit!” Jules yells. “I’m not playing this stupid game. I don’t care what day it is.”

  “Aww,” Aralie taunts. “You’re such a bad sport, Jules.”

  “Then you be her damn dog, and I’ll kiss Tate,” he says.

  I glance up just in time to see Jules fly past me. Benji runs after him while Aralie giggles and whispers something to Tate.

  Emery stands up and stomps out of the room behind the bromance
of Jenji. So much for playing house. For once, I’m thankful Jules is an ass.

  A few hours and one long nap later, I successfully close the lid on the shoebox of Paige photos. After lockdown, I’m finding a really awesome bonfire and adding Paige’s face to the flames. I slide the box under my bed when someone knocks on my door.

  “Hey,” Noah says. “Can I come in?”

  I tell him it’s open as I sit on the bed. He walks in with Emery’s extra-large birthday card in his hand. Milo is with him.

  “You want to sign the card we made?” Noah asks, sitting down next to me.

  I unfold the poster-sized card and read over the goofy birthday messages to Emery. I scribble something along the lines of hoping she has the best birthday ever, that I love her, and how I’m glad she gets to spend the big six with ‘Benji Bikini.’

  “Awesome, thanks,” Noah says. He turns to Milo. “C’mon dude, let’s go find Aralie and get her to sign it.”

  “Go on,” Milo says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Noah lingers in the doorway with Emery’s card. He mouths ‘sorry’ to me before he disappears down the hallway. I hear a knock on Aralie’s door, and Noah’s voice fades out as he goes into her bedroom.

  “Hey you,” Milo says, walking over to the bed. “What’s up?”

  He sits next to me, and everything about him consumes me for the zillionth time this summer. That sexy boyish smell. His ever-so-caramelized eyes. The way he scrunches his mouth to one side when he’s thinking.

  I decide to try the whole nonchalant, ‘nothing is happening’ vibe. I simply shrug my shoulders and shake my head. He doesn’t need to know what’s up.

  “Chloe, you’re a terrible liar,” he says. “It’s been written all over your face all day. Talk to me. Something’s up. I can see it.”

  Just tell him, Chloe. Be honest. Paige made out (and possibly more) with your ex-boyfriend, took pictures of it, uploaded them to Facebook, and tagged you in every last one. Just say it. She ruined your day, and she made you look like an idiot. It’s about Paige. All about Paige. Just tell him. He’ll understand. He’s logical and rational and understanding and amazing. Just say it.