“Yeah, me either. I mean, I think it’s so great Jason and Mark and those guys can use their natural sense of humor, but I’m not a big fan of comedy. I’m more into the dramatic arts. Like Shakespeare and Brecht. That’s what I do.” She was trying to be nice, but made it sound like we were clowns with no actual skill involved in what we do. We just run around stage being our naturally wacky selves.
Craig nodded at her once and looked back up at the menu. For the first time, I wanted to hug him. You could tell Marissa was not used to this response from guys.
“We do an improv scene called Shakespeare,” I said. “Where we make up a scene but speak as if we’re in a Shakespearian play. Like…” Looking for inspiration, I pointed to the frozen yogurt machine and, affecting a dramatic British accent, said, “So soft, what delight through yonder fro-yo snakes?”
Marissa wrinkled her button nose, but Jason and Craig smiled, and I took it as a victory. Shifting her focus to Craig, Marissa said, “The guys are having a party at Jason’s tonight. You two should come, right, Jason?”
“Definitely, of course, both of you should come.” Jason gestured to include Craig.
“Thanks, yeah. They mentioned that last night.” I nodded, noncommittally. If that party was going to be a Marissa-Jason love fest, no thanks.
“The guys and I have a great spot on the beach. We could all…” Marissa pointed to the spot where they’d set up camp.
My eyes widened in horror. I tried to recover by matching her enthusiasm. “Oh that’d be great. But we’re meeting our parents, so, we can’t.”
“Craig’s your…brother?” Jason asked, looking back and forth between us.
Craig chuckled. “What, did you think me and Ellie were a thing? I could see how she might give off the vibe that she’s totally hot for me, but of course, I wouldn’t allow it. That would be so wrong, wouldn’t it, sis?” He side-hugged me into him hard, squishing my cheek into his already-sweaty bare chest. When did he take off his T-shirt?
“It wouldn’t be wrong. He’s not my brother. I mean, it would be wrong, but not because of bloodlines. What I mean is, it would be spiritually, chemically, emotionally, physically wrong. Anyway. We better find our parents—one of his and one of mine. He’s my stepbrother.” With that Toast-Masters-worthy speech I wriggled out of his bear clasp and turned around. Then I turned back, remembering to be polite, gave a wave and added, “Bye.”
Marissa gave me a confused, smiley look. Jason started to raise his hand like he was going to wave good-bye as I marched out of the snack stand. Craig followed.
“You say you perform? Maybe I should come see a show. Because if you’re typically as eloquent as you were just now, I bet I would laugh a lot.”
“Eat a bag, Craig.”
“She’s finally taking after her big brother.”
I didn’t even bother with my usual response to that brother word. We trudged along looking for the purple plaid umbrella Barb had texted about.
After a few yards, Craig nodded back toward the snack stand. “What’s with the meltdown over seeing those two?”
“Nothing.” My flip-flops sank into the hot sand over and over again in rhythm—trudge, lift, stomp, crush. “They’re just so beautiful and shiny and rich and sunny and full of perfectly perfect perfectness…and Jason and I had maybe the most mind-altering scene together I’ve ever had in improv—even though it was also incredibly embarrassing—but, of course, he has a kind and lovely girlfriend. It’s nothing.”
“Easy there, tiger. Those two are dating? You sure?” Craig walked leisurely, his long legs easily keeping pace with me.
“Yeah, I mean look at them.” I flung my hand back, pointlessly gesturing at the snack stand.
“Yeah,” he said, mimicking my tone. “I did. Hence, the question. They don’t look like they’re dating. And that Melissa girl was checking me out.”
“Marissa,” I corrected, not sure if she actually had checked him out and I should feel hopeful, or if that was just Craig speaking through his Craig-centric lens of life, where he assumed all girls were in love with him.
“I really did want a slushy,” Craig grumbled.
Finally, the purple-and-green plaid umbrella stood before us. It was the worst umbrella ever, and I resisted a deep and desperate need to hurl it into the lake.
Further down the beach, my dad was kneeling in the sand close to the water building an elaborate wet-drip sandcastle complete with arches, turrets and bridges. I vowed to be nice to Barb. Maybe even Craig since he hadn’t lost his brain around Marissa.
“Hey, you guys.” Barb sprang from her lounge chair and scampered to us, which—due to the sand tripping her up—was hilarious. She was wearing a bright-purple, skirt-attached swimsuit with a visor that matched the umbrella. What kind of person matches her swimwear to her beach umbrella? Her curled, orangeish-brown-dyed hair puffed from the top of her visor like a crispy tumbleweed. Her cheeks were red from the heat. This was the woman who replaced my mother? Don’t glare, don’t roll your eyes, don’t tell her she deserves to be hurled into the lake with her aggressively obnoxious umbrella.
“I’m so happy to see you two. Come here, big guy.” She got on her tiptoes and planted several kisses on Craig’s cheek. “I missed you.”
He gave me a putout look, but you could tell by the way he hugged his mom back that he was happy to see her, too—just seriously more contained.
I was next. Barb hugged me so hard her floral perfume particles were already leaping onto my hair and clothes with a sticky vengeance. I would have to jump in the lake to get rid of the odor. How could my dad stand it?
“Ellie, you get more beautiful all the time. Isn’t she just a stunner?”
This was exactly what annoyed me about Barb. She was the aspartame kind of sweet: promises of sweetness, but ultimately leaving you empty inside with a bad taste in your mouth. Look at her decision to abandon her son in his senior year. How many parents did Craig need to be abandoned by in one lifetime? And she’d revealed her true inner monster at the wedding when Dad wasn’t looking—hollering at me because I’d spilled the stupid sparkling apple juice on my dress seconds before the ceremony.
I set my stuff down, kicked off my sandals, and joined Dad at his castle. He smiled, not taking his eyes off the tower-dripping procedure.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Why, hello there, you.”
More silence and wet-sand-dripping. I started making a carriage house next to his castle. Okay, I guess I could have gone for some artificial sweetness. A pat on the upper arm maybe?
“Barb says you had a performance last night.”
A. Why did she know and not him? B. Why didn’t they drive down a day early to see it? C. Was this his way of asking how it went?
“I did.” I waited for the appropriate follow-up question, but it didn’t come. “It went really well, thanks for asking.” He either didn’t get the sarcasm, or he wasn’t listening.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sunshine highlighted Dad’s white hair. No traces of blond left. At least he still had a full, thick head of it.
“How are your new students?” I asked.
He looked at me for the first time since I got there. He seemed to have a whole new landscape of wrinkles. A grumbling noise came from the back of his throat. “Eh, there are fewer attitudes, and the maturity level is a welcome change.”
He’d loved teaching at the prestigious private high school in Chicago, and it still baffled me that Barb had convinced him to move to Wisconsin, away from me and the job he loved.
My sand carriage house was looking more like a melted tomb. “Do you want to go for a walk along the beach?”
He clapped the sand from his hands. “Sure do.”
We stood up, and he put his arm around me as we walked along the shore. This was more like it.
“How are the college applications coming along? Any chance we can get you at Madison? In-state potential there.” University of Wisconsin did have a gre
at biology program. But who knew if I really was going to major in that?
I wasn’t about to tell him it wasn’t even in the college pros-and-cons spreadsheet I was making. Taking in a deep breath of the warm Lake Michigan air, I gathered courage to tell him about my first choice. “I want to go to the University of Colorado at Boulder.” I quickly added, “They have a highly-rated biology program. Plus, they have an improv group already established on campus.”
“Ellie, you are not going to college for an extracurricular activity. It is time to focus.”
I stuffed down the screams, moved out from under his arm, and went to skip a stone. I chucked it into the lake and it skipped along almost to where Marissa, Jason, Mark and some others from Porter were playing in the water—dunking, splashing, laughing—like a freaking sunscreen commercial.
“Dad, I forgot to put on sunscreen, let’s head back.”
We walked back in silence. I grunted at Barb and Craig, flopped down on the blanket, and put my shirt over my face. The Freeze scene with Jason replayed in my mind, but this time there wasn’t an audience, and in the final moment when I was hovering over him onstage, instead of laughing—
“Ellie? Are you under there?”
Holy crap. I bolted upright, throwing the shirt off my face, trying to smooth my hair in a casual way.
“Jason? Hi,” I said, overanimated, feeling like he must be able to guess my reverie about him.
“Hey. I figured as long as we were a few hundred yards from each other on the same beach, I could give you the info for my party tonight now?” He said this as a question, his face crinkling up in the most adorable way. The sun was at his back so he looked like he was glowing—his hair shimmering, droplets of water running down his face. No fair providing special effects, Nature.
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” I reached for my phone. He kneeled down next to me, his thigh brushing against mine. It took all my focus to enter in his address, my thumbs forgetting how to type.
He smiled, his dimple a talented wingman. “I really hope you can make it,” he said as he stood back up, leaving a noticeable absence on the spot where his leg had pressed into mine.
My words left along with his touch. I nodded instead, realizing there had been a lightning-quick debate between my body and my brain, and my body had won. There’s no way I’m missing this party.
Chapter Three
When we arrived at Jason’s palatial home, cars lined the street and driveway, including Craig’s. He’d driven separately so he could escape early in case it turned out to be an “actor freakfest of sucky proportions.” We found a spot to park, got out and gave each other one final glance over. Quinn wore a black tutu-like skirt and nude high heels, a combo that made her long, athletic legs look endless. Hana had tried to wear one of her adorable-things-in-nature T-shirts but Quinn wouldn’t stand for it. Instead of the river-with-cute-jumping-fish shirt, she now wore a royal-blue short-sleeved sweater that for once showed off her ample boobs instead of hiding them under layers of cotton.
My original outfit had also been rejected, Quinn saying, “You need to show off that new yoga body.”
“Uh, I’ve only been doing yoga for the two weeks since school started,” I’d said.
“Well, you look stronger and glowier already. Own it.” She forced me to trade out my usual gray canvas shoes for shiny gold flats and had me put on her silky, cream-colored top that danced around my skin.
While Quinn tousled my hair and applied my makeup with her expert skills, Hana decided it would help if she assigned me a character for the night. “Tonight, you’re playing the part of Girl Who’s Got It All. I mean, be yourself, but only that witty, confident part of you who can actually talk to the cute boy, and not that weirdo part of you who sees a cute boy, mumbles something unintelligible and runs to her friends at her first chance. Got it?” Since I’d had a stick of eyeliner pointed at my eyeball, I couldn’t glare at her, but I liked my assignment. Tonight’s performance of Confident Girl will be played by Ellie Hartwood.
After checking that my blouse was hanging just so over my jeans, we headed up the driveway to Jason’s ginormous house.
Hana nudged Quinn and said, “So, which guy is on your hump-worthy list tonight?”
“Well, I certainly don’t like considering it that way,” Quinn said, trying to get away with not answering. She enjoyed flirting but never really stuck with a crush for very long. We remained silent, expectant. “C’est un mystère.” She punctuated the statement with a quick nod of her head.
We stopped and blocked her path, staring at her for an answer.
Finally, she broke. “Okay, I kind of think that Mark Weiss guy is cute. And he was so funny last night.”
“Yuck. Seriously?” Hana was never good at hiding her opinions, even when hiding them was the right thing to do.
“What? Mean.” She turned to me. “Is that what you think, too?”
Liberated by Hana’s response I tried to be honest. “You’re right, he is funny, and his smile could land him some toothpaste commercials, no doubt, but…he’s so bizarrely tan.”
“Yeah, he’s kinda the color of Cheetos.”
“You guys. He is not orange.” Quinn flung her hands up in the air.
Hana and I exchanged sidelong glances.
For a moment, Quinn was all the image of innocence and hurt, but she soon gave in. “Well, he is slightly…marigold-colored, but—”
All three of us burst out laughing.
“I still call dibs. If the Weisses don’t vacation in Florida anytime soon or have a tanning booth in their basement, I’m sure the color will wear off by Homecoming.”
“Ooh, she’s got plans,” Hana teased.
I elbowed Hana in the side. “So, how about you, Hana? Got your eye on anyone?”
She made an odd, quiet grunt.
“Is there someone?” Quinn asked.
Hana shook her head and frowned, avoiding eye contact. “Nah, these Porter guys aren’t for me.”
Something in the way she emphasized Porter guys made me wonder. “Okay, so no Porter guys for you. But is there someone you like?” I did a skip-jump to get in front of her and read her face. Oof. My knee twinged in the spot I’d tweaked this morning.
She shrugged, her head kind of bobbling between yes and no.
“You’re never rendered speechless. Who?”
“Yes, who? Do tell,” Quinn said as she took Hana by the shoulders and looked real close at her face, as if the boy’s name might be written there.
“Okay, okay. There is a guy—”
Quinn and I squealed in unison, our mouths opening like baby birds about to demand more.
“But.” Hana stomped her foot, her heel making a loud click against the brick. “And I’m serious here. For reasons I don’t want to go into, I’m asking, as your best friend, please do not press me on this. I’m hoping this uncomfortable emotion will just go away, but if it doesn’t I promise I will tell you soon. Okay?”
I put my hand over my mouth, trying to squelch my desire to ask a hundred more questions. This was so unlike her I was almost in shock. Quinn squirmed next to me. We were all silent for a long beat until I sighed and said, “Well, I’ve never been more curious in all my life. It’s pretty much all I’m going to think about for forever until you tell us.”
“A week,” Quinn said.
“What?” Hana asked.
“You have to tell us in at least a week, or our brains will explode. You understand.”
Hana nodded, and we continued up the long driveway bordered with inlaid bricks and motion-sensor lights. My belly did a flip thinking about my own crush, whom I was about to see in two seconds. Are he and Marissa together? Or is Craig right, and there isn’t anything between them?
As Quinn opened the front door, I gaped at the stained-glass panels refracting shimmers of colorful light. This house was a gazillion times different then our apartment, where the only thing shiny was the glitter stucco ceiling leftover from a
tragic eighties remodel. I was luckier than 95 percent of the world’s population, but except for a handful of apartment-living kids in unincorporated Northglenn like Hana and me, everyone else in our school had huge houses. They were fancy-summer-camps and vacation-homes rich. And then there were neighborhoods like this one, with inconceivable amounts of money. I tried to shake it off—comparing up sucked.
This place was something else entirely. As if reading my mind, Hana said, “Yeah, I think the word for this is estate.”
From down the marble-floored hall a voice shouted, “The party’s out back!” We walked down the hall toward this mysterious “back.” Hana muttered, “They should offer a shuttle service. I’m getting shin splints.”
We stopped at a room filled with boys yelling at a video game on a TV so big it rivaled a movie theater. Some of them were wearing headsets that looked like half-helmets. Quinn, Hana, and I just stared at them and the screen where soldier types were killing monster types.
“We’ve made a huge mistake,” I whispered.
In another corner of the room, Craig was holding a guitar and Jason was talking and pointing to some other music equipment. I didn’t know what I thought about them being chummy. Oh, wait, yes, I did—I didn’t like it.
Jason looked up and walked over. “You made it. Hi.” He said this to all three of us, but his focus was on me, his eyes causing all sorts of spasms and palpitations in my organs.
“Hi.” I could think of no other words. Don’t I do improv? Why does it refuse to be a useful skill in real life?
“Took long enough,” Craig said. He looked at me, Quinn then Hana, and waved his hand around at us as he said, “You three look…nice. Effortful, but nice.” His eyes landed on Hana’s cleavage for a millisecond, which surprised me since our beach run-in with Marissa had made me think his resistance was stronger than the normal teenage male in the boob-gawking department.
“Something to drink?” Jason asked. He waved for us to follow him as he listed drink options too quickly for me to catch.
“I was about to bring these out back.” Jason started pulling large glass bottles of some fancy soda out of the fridge. Who knew pulling out bottles of soda could highlight a butt so nicely?
A Messy, Beautiful Life Page 3
