“I want you to say that you will make an effort for the next few months. Not only is it senior year, but it’s our last opportunity to do this stuff together. I don’t know where either one of us is going to be next year for sure—I’ll probably be in stupid Pennsylvania—but I know we won’t be together. And I really miss my partner in crime.”
I had nothing to say back. Brooke was rarely affectionate or sweet, and these were not the moments to argue with her.
“Especially prom,” she added, grabbing my wrist and shaking it. “Prom, prom, prom. You haven’t been to homecoming or prom since sophomore year, and I admit that it was lame that year.”
“Brooke, are you asking me to prom?” I smiled wryly at her. “The answer is yes, a million times yes!”
Instead of laughing, she looked sad. “Look, it’s not only about you having the high school experience. It’s also that mine isn’t complete without you there. Please come out more.”
In a way, I knew she was right. I should go to events like prom and all that...but I never fit in at any of those must-do high school events. I used to go to big parties, and for me the experience was uncomfortable. All the girls waltzing around in too much makeup and crop-tops they couldn’t pull off because of the beer gut they already had, and the guys flexing their arm muscles and puffing out their chests. People either acted drunker than they were, or they’d had way too much and were trying to seem sober. Any conversation you had would likely be forgotten by the morning, and any hookup you had you’d hope to forget by then. There had been a brief moment where I didn’t hate it, but I’d walked away from my Reed mistake and suddenly had seen it all with new eyes.
The top five things you hear at a party:
1. “I am so fucked up.”
2. “Who brought her?”
3. “I think I’m gonna vomit.”
4. “I am way too high right now. No, seriously, I think I’m having a heart attack.”
a) Fun subcomment: “Can I get in trouble if I’m high and go to the emergency room?”
5. “Ugh, I’m gonna be so hungover.”
And then a lot of happy squealing matched only by weepy couple-fights.
But I did miss hanging out with Brooke. We used to have fun at some of those parties together.
“Fine.”
“You mean it?” Her face lit up.
“Yes, but you’re not She’s All That–ing me and taking off my glasses, straightening my hair and putting me in your clothes.”
“Of course not.”
“And you’re not going to then stand back, cross your arms and nod while the guy of my dreams double-takes at how gorgeous I’ve become.”
“I know,” she said, patting my back and leading me into the restaurant.
“Because in the end, it will turn out he liked me best before I got the makeover, anyway, so it’s really a waste of time.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You’re lucky you’re so attractive already, because you are a freaking weirdo.”
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS AN awful, bright kind of cold out today, only made worse by the sea of red and pink that I had been swimming in. I know it tends to be mostly bitter people who say they don’t care about Valentine’s Day, but I...really don’t. It’s dumb. I’ll take burgers and fireworks over heart-shaped candies and roses any day.
I sat on a table outside of school at the end of the day, wearing no color that came close to pink, and checked the time on my phone. Fifteen minutes since the bell rang. I’d known I would be waiting, so I already had headphones in and was listening to my fifties doo-wop playlist. I sighed and sipped from the aluminum water bottle I had filled up.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and nearly spat the water out.
I turned to see Aiden Macmillan, Brooke’s long-term, for-serious, if-they-get-married-they’ll-be-the-definition-of-high-school-sweethearts boyfriend. The one with whom she considered herself to be in a “stale” relationship.
I took out my earbuds and scooted over. “Aiden, hi, sorry.”
“It’s all good. What are you listening to?”
“Um, the Fleetwoods right now.”
“Ah, your doo-wop playlist.”
“That’s the one.”
“That kinda day, I guess.”
“Yes, the doo-wop in the temperature put me in the mood.” I nudged him with my elbow.
“Oh, man,” he said. “That was bad even for you.”
“Shut up!”
“Just kidding. No Valentine’s roses today?”
“My heart is breaking over it. Please.”
“Right, right, I know you hate it...but I kinda got you a little valentine.”
At first I couldn’t tell if he was kidding. “What?”
“Yeah, really, I did.” He handed me an envelope. It said, Happy Pal-entine’s Day.
“Hah! And I’ve got corny jokes.”
I opened it, and out fell a package of what looked like some kind of seasoning.
“My mom swears by it.” He shrugged. “I dunno, it’s probably dumb. I know you like to cook and thought you would like it. I was going to give you a package of it randomly, but decided to give it to you on a holiday you hate instead.”
“That’s so nice of you. And...and weird.”
“I know, I kinda see that now.”
He messed up his hair and looked out into the parking lot, where people and cars were all weaving around one another to leave. “So to change the subject...did you see it’s supposed to blizzard this weekend?”
“No...is it really?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be a couple of feet.”
“Wow. Time to get out the snowshoes, I guess.”
“And the toboggan.”
“Toboggan! Oh, my God, seriously, though, I love sledding. Why is that a thing reserved for kids?”
“Me, too. And in fact, it’s pretty dangerous, as far as sports and leisure activities are concerned. So really it shouldn’t be for kids at all.”
“You probably didn’t do a lot of sledding in Texas as a child, anyway.”
“Nope, only when I visited my aunt up here for Christmas and we got lucky enough for it to not just be gray and cold.”
“So almost never, then. That’s probably my least favorite thing about our winters. Not only do they drag on for weeks longer than you want them to, but most days it’s just ugly out.”
“I completely agree. If I’m going to live somewhere with four seasons, I want four real seasons.”
“Exactly,” I said. “My cousins live up in Michigan, and as awful as Michigan can be—”
Brooke appeared behind Aiden, and I stopped talking.
Always dressed impeccably, she had also not lowered herself to wear anything in theme today. She was in black velvet leggings, a navy blazer and a sheer black tank top. The only thing arguably holiday-related was the Tiffany’s filagree heart necklace she was wearing on a long chain. She clicked toward us in her heeled ankle-boots, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Ugh! I am so sorry, you guys, Mr. Andrews was nagging me for, like, ten minutes about how, for this essay, I need to ‘arrange my thoughts’ and ‘write an outline.’ Ugh. Okay, let’s get out of this soul-sucking hellhole.”
We climbed into Aiden’s Jeep. We rode with him whenever Brooke woke up early enough.
Brooke buckled her seat belt and turned to me. “Oh, did he give you that seasoning stuff?”
“Yeah, just now.” Okay, so she had known about it. That was less weird, then.
“I don’t know what it is, but every time his mom cooks, the food is amazing and it’s because of that stuff. So now you can cook me food whenever I want it and I don’t have to wait for his mom to let me come over.” She gave me a che
esy grin. “Oh, okay, so here’s our new mission, Aiden. We have to find Natalie a boyfriend.”
I leaned back against the headrest. “Brooke...”
“Oh, shush, I know better than you. I’m thinking she needs a hipster-type guy.”
“I told you, I don’t want some weird poser who wears nonprescription Ray-Bans. It’s really not my thing.”
“That shouldn’t be anybody’s thing,” said Aiden.
“Agreed.”
“No, guys,” Brooke said, “not the annoying kind of hipster who’s just catching on to the mainstream hipster thing, more someone who is a little off-kilter, but not to an annoying extent.”
“I already think he sounds lame.”
“Nat, be real, I’m not saying he needs to be exactly anything. I mean someone who is into the same things as you. You’re not going to date, like, a football player.” She gestured at Aiden. “I don’t see that being something you’re into. Or maybe you need someone who is your total opposite. I don’t know! It’s going to be fun to shop you around. Which is why—” she pulled out her phone and opened up Facebook “—we are going to this tomorrow night.”
I took the phone and looked at it. “Stupid Cupid Rager?”
“Yes. It’s at Alexa’s place, have you been there? Well, it’s huge and has a pool table and a movie theater, and is the best. We’re hoping to get snowed in there. It’s even better in summer because of the pool in the back, but whatever. It’ll be fun, anyway. She has a hot tub!”
“Snowed in?” I groaned. “That seems like it could be kind of a nightmare.”
“Yeah,” Aiden agreed. “There are more than a few people I would rather not be locked in a house with.”
“God, Mom and Dad, chill out. It’s going to be fun goddammit.”
Aiden’s eyes shifted to mine in the rearview. I stifled my grin.
“Point is,” Brooke went on, “there’ll be a ton of people there and it’s going to be awesome. Lots of guys. And Alexa used to go to Northwest, so I think we might not already know and be sick of them all. Bonus!”
“Does Natalie even want a boyfriend?”
“Aiden. Every girl secretly wants a boyfriend, no matter what they cop to. It’s how the world works.”
“Brooke, I’m not searching that desperately. I’m actually not even searching. You are. For me. Without being asked.”
“I know you’re not, you’re doing the opposite! You’re hiding! And what happens if you squander your youth and beauty by not even trying?” She glanced back at me again. “You’re always going to be pretty but you know what I’m trying to say.”
“I don’t see the point in wasting time or youth on some drunk LAX bro, either.”
“Then you haven’t met some of the LAX bros I know. What?” Aiden was giving her a look. She rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “He’s being jealous. So will you go?”
“I don’t know...”
“Come on! You promised!”
She gave me her best puppy-dog eyes. They didn’t work on me ordinarily, but I had promised. And I didn’t have any plans.
“Fine! Fine, if it’s that important to you, I’ll go.”
She squealed.
* * *
“GO TO THE party, Natalie.”
“But I don’t wanna.” I was bent over the back of the couch, a listless sack of un-fun. My father was in the kitchen making us egg salad sandwiches and trying to convince me to be a teenager.
“Brooke is right—there are certain things you have to do at your age. Even if it’s not fun, you’ll be with your best friend. And Aiden, you two are friends.”
“Yeah, I know. But Brooke tends to gets wasted and wander off, and then I’m left alone.”
“Tell her in the beginning of the night, say, ‘Brooke, I would really appreciate if you could make an effort—’”
“Dad, Dad, Dad,” I cut him off, pushing myself off the couch and holding up a hand. “Do you really see that being a real conversation? No, she’s going to do what she wants, and it would be incredibly loserish of me to have a conversation about sticking by my side.”
“Fair enough.” He cut my sandwich diagonally, and then cut his down the middle. “Then hang out with Aiden.”
He turned around and gave me a look.
“Shut up!” I said, covering my face with the neck of my hoodie.
“Aiden and Natalie, sittin’ in a tree...”
“Dad! He’s Brooke’s boyfriend, I don’t know why you’re so intent on me having a crush on him.”
“I’m not getting in your business. All I know is, my daughter is a big fan of his, and I like him.” He shrugged and brought over the sandwiches. “The guy watches football with me while you and Brooke shriek upstairs, doing your makeup and comparing split ends or whatever it is you do. Can’t help but like him.”
“Yep, you nailed it, Dad. ‘No, Brooke, my split ends are better than your split ends!’”
“I say go, be careful—” he handed me my plate “—don’t get housed or make mistakes, but have fun. Let Brooke force you to have a good time. Gotta admit, I see where she’s coming from. You do hang out with your dad too much. You’re, like, so uncool.”
I laughed and unpaused the episode of The Office we were watching. And resigned myself to attending the Stupid Cupid Rager. When even your dad tells you you’re a pitiful homebody, you really ought to get out of the house.
* * *
WE PARKED ON the street and made our way up to the house. It was already starting to snow. Brooke, Aiden and I left footprints in the white dust as we walked.
Inside, I saw exactly what I expected to see. A room full of wasted people shouting, guffawing, flirting and mostly trying to look hot.
“Yup,” I said to Brooke and Aiden. “Pretty much exactly how I remembered it.”
Aiden laughed, but Brooke punched me on the arm. “Give it a chance!”
Alexa, the good host, came over to greet us. “You guys! You got Natalie to come?” She extended her arms for a hug, her mouth agape.
“Alexa, hi!” I hugged her back and gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you, thanks for having me.”
“Oh, anytime, girl. Well, any time my mom goes out of town.” She giggled. “Does this mean you’re going to finally hang out with us again?”
Brooke gave me a look that a mother might give a daughter who needs to say thank you.
“Yeah, definitely. Senior year and all that.” I smiled enthusiastically to try to make up for how lame I sounded. Brooke looked pleased, then turned from us and scurried away to talk to other people.
“Oh, I know, I’m so excited! But so sad, too. I’m going to miss everyone so much.” She shook her head. “May is getting closer and closer every day.”
There was a small drop in my stomach. I, too, was dreading the end of the year, but not for the same reasons a girl like Alexa was. While hers was more of a melancholy dread, mine was outright terror at the fact that I had no clear “next step.”
“Crazy!” She downed the rest of whatever was in her red cup and swayed a little. “Ohmigod, so you have to come take a shot with me right now.”
“Shots? Eee...I don’t know...”
I remembered all too well the feeling of throwing up after too much liquor. I had been part of the group when we were freshmen and sophomores. We had mostly gone to the movies or gotten dropped off at the mall to go shopping—I was usually tagging along, never having much money—or we had sleepovers. It wasn’t until the end of sophomore year when Brooke had gotten hold of a few bottles of wine that things started to change. Then it was a hop, skip and a jump to the big parties they were still into.
That unfortunate night with Reed, I had done shots.
“Just one!” Alexa insisted.
&nbs
p; “Um—” I didn’t know how to get out of it. I lacked the ability to put my foot down, like I knew I should. I had an incessant need to please people, but almost none of the wherewithal to do so.
“Natalieeeee!” said Brooke, coming up to us. She had taken off her coat and was wearing a tight red tank top with a black bra. Her necklace dangled scandalously between her boobs.
She grabbed me by the shoulders. “Natalie is letting me be her party godmother this year. Which means she’s actually going to have some fun and stop sitting at home all the time.”
“Sick! We’re going to have such a blast! The rest of this year is going to be insane. I mean, how could it not be? We already got accepted to schools for next year, so who gives a fuck?”
There was a whoop from the people around us. Brooke ambled away again.
My cheeks went slightly hot, and I wanted to make sure no one tried to ask me about my plans.
“You’re going to Arizona, right?” I asked Alexa, recalling what Brooke had told me. One of my few skills was remembering details about people. This would be great if I actually knew any of them well anymore and could come off more like a good friend and less like a stalker.
“Yes! I’m ready to bake in the sun. I can’t stand this cold weather. My aunt lives out there and absolutely loves it. I’ve heard people either love it or hate it there. I hope I love it, ya know?”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. And hey, if you don’t, you can always soak up a good base tan and a few credits and go somewhere else, right?”
She smiled at me, looking like that somehow actually made her feel better. “Exactly. Exactly! You’re totally right, Natalie. That’s how I need to look at it.”
I basked in the glow of her approval and became suddenly desperate for more. “Okay, let’s do a shot.”
She squealed and pulled me over to the counter, where Brooke had gone to squeal with a girl named Bethany, who I had always disliked. For almost no reason—she just bugged me.
“Brookie! Natalie said she’d do a shot!”
Brooke looked surprised, but she smiled. “That’s my girl!”
It was kind of funny to see Brooke in her element. I was used to slightly dopey Brooke, who was a little off the wall and could always crack me up or unselfconsciously pull an ugly face. But here she was, her hair swooshed to one shoulder, confidently chatting with the people around her while she poured vodka into a shaker with ice and whatever else. She really was good at the whole “being the queen” thing.
Anything to Have You Page 2
