Her eyes jumped to mine, surprise at my location evident within them. “Listen, we don’t have to—”
“Come on,” she talked over me.
“Let’s get inside. Despite your promises to dress me conservatively, I still feel you failed. And I’m hungry. He better have some sort of sustenance besides candy corn and beer.”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll take you to McDonald’s on the way home,” I offered magnanimously.
“Wow. Good thing you’re not a guy. Women really hate to be a cheap date.”
Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I forced a joke. “Blane takes you to better places, huh?”
Her answer was downright wistful. “Blane always treats me right.”
Looping my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her out of the car and gritted my teeth against more than the cold October wind.
I knew what she said was true. Blane always treated me right too.
WHEN WE GOT INSIDE, I was delighted to see that no one was smashing anything. At least not yet.
Maybe it was because they respected Grant.
Or maybe it was because they knew he would stop having these parties if they ended really badly for him.
It was, no doubt, some sort of self-serving reason.
Franny trailed slightly behind me, her eyes moving from person to person, seemingly studying each and every one of them intently.
I really wanted to ask her if she was alright or what she was thinking.
But I didn’t think it would do any good to potentially bring her down if she had somehow managed to push her demons aside for the night.
So I acted as though everything was as it should be, when in reality, nothing was.
Grant made his way out of the kitchen, and after quickly exchanging some kind of jock-intense handshake with one of the other football players, noticed me.
His costume was different and much more masculine.
He was a gladiator of some sort, but far be it for me to know for sure. I was no expert in anything barbarian.
“Whitney!” he shouted from across the room, drawing the attention of several people in the vicinity. Exactly what I would have wished he wouldn’t do.
“I can’t believe you actually came,” he mused before adding, “But I’m glad you’re here!”
“Yeah,” I replied, trying to smile but doing it very noncommittally. “I brought Franny with me,” I pointed out, glancing behind me to find her. She was still keeping to herself, but she watched people with amusement and kept walking in my direction. She looked almost ethereal thanks to the gauzy material of my mom’s flowy blouse. My mom hardly ever wore it, the harsh minty green color an apparent mismatch for her skin. I’d helpfully pointed out that she was the one that bought it, and didn’t she know that when she picked it out, but she hadn’t dignified my teasing with a real answer. Instead she told me that she was the adult and I was the child and that meant, in way more words, that I should shut the hell up. I dutifully obliged.
And now I was thankful for her aimless shopping, as it had been the perfect addition to a nun-like Jasmine costume for my friend.
Of course, the material hung even more loosely than was intended, the lack of body fat on Franny’s torso terrifying. Her hip bones stuck out in stark relief, and their prominence served as a reminder of her earlier comments about candy corn and beer.
Turning back to Grant, I asked, “Do you happen to have any food in this joint? We’re starving,” making sure to keep my tone kind, and my pronoun plural. I would never single Franny out, but I certainly wouldn’t do it now. I didn’t figure Grant to be the kind of guy who would make an inappropriate comment about her weight, but I didn’t trust the other people around us. And I certainly wasn’t going to open it up for invitation by mentioning her directly.
“Yeah, straight through here,” he said as he pointed in the direction he came from over his shoulder. “My cousin’s really into trying her hand at catering. I always tell her that high school parties aren’t the type of event that’s going to get her more work, but she says something back about it building her experience.” He shrugged. “I guess she’s smarter than me because I don’t know that I’d do work for her for free if I wasn’t getting anything out of it.”
My face scrunched just a little before I forced it back to a state of rest. He’d said that like it somehow made him cool to be dumb. And lazy.
And I guess it usually probably did. Some of the others at this party probably would have been all I know, right? and given him a slap on the back and big, playful smile.
I worked hard not to permanently grimace.
“Right. Well, thanks,” I said instead, reaching behind me to grab Franny’s wrist and pulling her gently into the kitchen.
He seemed only slightly miffed at my hasty departure, but he moved on to another girl named Justine fairly quickly. Obviously, my arrival had made him think he was going to be luckier than he actually was. But it wasn’t me he wanted. Not really, anyway. He wanted any warm female body, and in my absence, Justine was doing just fine.
Which was more than alright with me. I didn’t need his kind of complications even before I fell in love with my best friend, who happened to be my other best friend’s boyfriend.
Say that five times fast.
Now I really didn’t need them.
Of course, as I pushed my way past the people who’d lingered in the doorway, I discovered he’d been right. All types of appetizers sat scattered in trays on the counter, a stack of paper plates and a pile of plastic forks in the corner.
“What are you thinking about this food, Fran?” I asked, wondering about how sanitary it could really be sitting out among this grouping of rowdy people.
As if on a timer, several people seemed to tumble in from the opposite end of the room, laughter and the spilling of their drinks spraying out in an arc towards the exact food in question.
Franny, who’d been temporarily distracted by the commotion, glanced back at me, back at the food, and then to me once more. “I’m thinking a Big Mac sounds really good. And clean. Which is really saying something.”
I nodded my head in agreement, laced my arm through hers and led us around the tangle of limbs and costumes, and out that same opposite door.
We weren’t eating, but we were here, and we might as well explore.
As we circled back through a second hallway towards the front entrance, we passed a group of popular girls, including the well-known gossip, Christine. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of me, and then Franny, as she took us in separately, and then even later, worked to digest the fact that we were not only there, but in costume.
Quite frankly, those factoids were still ruminating in my own digestive tract.
Waiting until we were out of ear shot of Chatty Cathy, I questioned, “Did you get a chance to call Blane while you were getting ready, let him know we were coming?”
I’d given her some breathing room, a little time to herself to get dressed, while I’d gone back to the front of her house to tell her parents about our planned adventure.
Gina had been excited, shocked, but genuinely happy that Franny was leaving the house.
Her dad, Steven, hadn’t been quite as overt with his emotions, and I had a feeling they resided closer to “not thrilled” than gleeful. But he’d gone along with it, staring at Gina like the smile on her face was a foreign artifact, its existence rare and equally treasured.
I had to choke back the tears as I watched him watch her. That kind of love, combined with what their house had to be like on a daily basis, called up the unwanted waterworks.
“I did,” she confirmed, avoiding looking me in the eye. “He was surprised. Happy that I was coming, but definitely surprised.”
There was something she wasn’t saying.
“Just surprised?” I asked, hoping that if I just opened up the avenue, she’d drive the car.
“Yeah. Well, maybe a little disappointed. He covered it well, though.�
� She sighed deep. “I can’t seem to stop disappointing him.”
That pulled me up short. I stopped in my tracks, the comical screech practically audible. “You don’t think that, do you? That all you do is disappoint him? Because that’s not true.”
She bit her lip, tipped her eyes toward the ground. “Come on. Don’t just baby me. I know I’ve disappointed him.”
Steeling my nerves, I went to battle to keep together the relationship that would ultimately break my own heart. Kind of ironic. “Fran. Listen. Blane’s not the type to be all that disappointed in people. Actions, yes. But people, no. He loves you. You have to know this. He shows you every day.”
“I know,” she whispered, her eyes still on the ground.
“If he sounded disappointed tonight, it’s because he’s not here. God, he loves spending time with you, and if you told him about the costume…did you tell him about the costume?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, finally looking up at me.
“Then he’s probably just upset he doesn’t get to see you like this. You look hot.”
“Stop,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“No, you do. It’s nun-like because, hey, that’s what you were going for, but I’m telling you this color doesn’t wash out your skin at all.”
“Huh?” she questioned, now really confused.
“Right,” I said, mentally slapping myself on the forehead. “You’re not inside my head. That was an inside, inside joke. That only I knew.” Huffing a breath, I let my head drop back, “God, I’m pathetic.”
Instead of acknowledging my self-criticism, Franny smirked. “Let’s go. I need fries. And a milkshake. You may be taking me to McDonald’s, but you’re gonna get me what I want.”
I looked from the ceiling to her as she spoke. And smiled when she was finished.
“Deal.”
Overall, the night had been a success. And I loved having at least a glimpse of my friend back.
I STUMBLED UP THE SIDEWALK from my driveway to my front door drunk.
Not with alcohol, but because of a churning in my gut for an absolutely different reason.
The night, the party, and everything it had had to offer had left me feeling nothing but mixed up and confused.
I didn’t feel right, and I certainly didn’t feel happy.
The sad part was that everyone had been nice. By all accounts, the party couldn’t have gone any better. We weren’t there long, and once we left, I saw little pieces of the friend I’d long since thought had checked out.
Franny laughed and smiled, or at least did a good impression of both.
And maybe that’s what was bothering me. It seemed like it was everything I wanted, but it did nothing to fulfill me.
I didn’t want to spend my time mixing with the not half bad, but all together boring remainder of the senior class. And I didn’t want Franny to pretend to be okay just so that she wouldn’t disappoint me and Blane. That was like asking for trouble.
On the other hand, I thought maybe, just maybe, fake happiness might lead to real happiness. But again, I was a seventeen year old. I had no clue what was right or wrong, or even remotely appropriate in a situation like this.
I could just hear my Gram, though, telling me that it wasn’t my age that was adding to my inexperience and lack of expertise, it was the situation.
Still.
Ugh. What a mess.
I was just about to step onto the first concrete step when I looked up, startled.
“Blane!” I shrieked my surprise, his overwhelming presence taking up the entirety of my front stoop. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him before then.
Obviously, I was even more upset than I had originally thought.
“What are you doing here?”
“You look cute,” he commented rather than answering.
I looked down at my ridiculous costume, embarrassed.
I hadn’t even remembered I was wearing it. Grant hadn’t even commented at the party. To be fair, everyone had looked ridiculous, but I would have thought there would have been at least one comment from someone.
Maybe I looked more like Pippi in real life than I thought.
Or even more troubling, none of them knew who Pippi Longstocking was. God, wouldn’t that be disgusting.
“Yeah, cute,” I pretended to agree. “That’s exactly what I’d call it.”
“Whit,” he said simply.
At first, I got excited. After the way he’d looked at me at the memorial. The way he’d smiled after Gram had hugged him, the way he’d really seemed to need me. Maybe he was finally going to let me back in. Maybe he was finally going to talk to me about everything he was facing, everything he’d already met head on. I wanted him to lean on me, and in turn, I wanted to feel him do it.
I missed him. I missed his smile and his laughter, and I missed his friendship.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he started only to pause and take a deep breath. “I love you, Whit. You’ve been one of the best friends I’ve ever had, the first one I met here.”
“You’re one of my best friends too,” I agreed, only to be interrupted.
And gutted.
“But, I think our timeline has expired. I look at you every day, and I hate what I’m doing to you.”
“What you’re doing to me?” I questioned. “You’re not doing anything—”
“Yes, I am,” he said harshly.
“I’m cold and distant, and I know it. But it’s not going to change, and I want better for you.”
“Blane, if this is about what I said the other day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not,” he argued. “Well, it is, but only in the sense that you woke me up. I’m not giving you what I need to, and it’s not fair. I can’t give what you need. Especially, not now.”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I said, a single tear trailing down my fake-freckled cheek and carving a cavern through the makeup.
“You do. Whit, friendship is two-sided, and I’m giving you nothing.”
“I don’t want anything, Blane. I was wrong. I just want you around,” I begged, desperation tinging every tiny facet of my voice.
I stepped toward him, hoping that by some miracle, he’d step toward me.
Instead, he retreated.
“Whitney, stop. Please. It’s time to move on. You deserve better. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who’s willing to open up to you. Just move on, make new friends. There’s no way they won’t like you.”
“Yeah, because I’m so likable,” I mocked through my now streaming tears. Seeming to spend more time wet than dry, my face was starting to adapt to the sensation.
“You are! God, I promise that you are. Once you get past your abrasive exterior, you’re one of the best people on the planet.”
“If I’m so great, stay! Don’t walk away like this! Don’t give up.”
He rose easily from my steps, but the words he choked out weren’t easy to swallow.
“Don’t you see? I already gave up on our friendship. And it’s because of that, because you’re so great—and you are—that you deserve better.”
He turned and walked down the sidewalk, his powerful back looking more depressing than it ever had.
“What am I supposed to do?” I shouted. “Just ignore you? Pretend like we’ve never met when we cross paths in the hall? Huh?”
“No. We can still talk. We can still be civil to one another—”
“Oh yeah?” I seethed, the anger actually rolling off of me in heavy, bitterness-laden waves and forcing away the tears. “We can, huh? You say it’s okay, so now it’s so.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“What you say just goes?”
“Whit—”
“Don’t!” I screamed, leaning into my yell and clenching my
fists at my sides.
“If you want this friendship to be over so badly, you’re gonna have to avoid me! You know why? Because I’m not going anywhere!” The veins in my neck bulged. I could feel them there, pulling at the skin and flexing with every shout of anger.
“Never in my life,” I whispered with a shaky finger, “has someone disrespected me so totally. Never have you disrespected me so totally. You think you can just tell me to walk away and I will? You think so low of me?”
“Whitney,” he whispered, and this time, his voice, and his eyes, were tortured.
“Fuck. You.”
He nodded his head, because in a roundabout way, we’d ended up exactly where he wanted.
That’s what made me call after him.
“Tonight,” I declared on a shaky exhale. “Tonight, Blane, you are an asshole. But tomorrow, this will be over, and you better believe I’ll be right there again, shoving myself right back down your throat.”
He turned back, all the way at the driveway, just to slap me one more time. “I don’t want you to.” He raised his voice even louder. “Whitney, I want you to leave me alone.”
“Yeah, well,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I wanted you to leave me the hell alone in seventh grade, and look how that turned out.”
“DRAMA,” GRAM MUTTERED FROM HER spot under my covers as I walked into my room. Her hair was mussed as though she’d been there for quite some time.
“Is this where I’m going to find you from now on? Because, really?”
“It’s comfy,” she argued. “Your mattress is more comfortable than mine.”
“That’s probably because you made it all lumpy with your brittle, little old lady bones,” I deadpanned.
Okay. So that wasn’t that nice. But I wasn’t in a good mood. Obviously.
“Hah!” She laughed. Crazy old lady. “If that’s true, lumpy is coming to a bed near you. I lay here every day.”
“Great,” I huffed sarcastically.
“Geez. Someone is super grumpy. I’m guessing it has something to do with the hunk, right?”
“How would you know?”
“You’ve got some pipes, kid. I’m a brittle, little old lady,” she mocked, “ and I still heard you screaming outside.”
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