All I Need

by Susane Colasanti

Is it dorky that I made a mix for tonight? Bruce Spring-steen comes on first with “She’s the One.” My heart is pounding at what might happen.

  “So . . . do you . . .” I try to keep it casual. “Are you tired?”

  “Kind of.” Skye’s getting clothes out of her bag. “You?”

  “It’s hard to tell. The excitement of you being here is overpowering everything else.”

  “Aw.” Skye kisses me. “I’ll be right out.” She takes some clothes and a zippered pouch with hearts all over it into the bathroom. The shower turns on.

  Should I get changed? I usually just sleep in my boxers and maybe a T-shirt if it’s cold. Or should I stay dressed? I decide to lie on my bed and flip through Grant’s copy of If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!

  When Skye comes out, she’s wearing a cute little pink tank top and striped pajama shorts. She takes her hair clip out. Her hair flows like honey over her shoulders. She smells like fresh air.

  “What are you reading?” she asks.

  “One of Grant’s philosophy books.”

  “Are you getting into philosophy?”

  “It seems more appealing now that he’s not a ranting d-bag anymore.”

  Skye laughs. She lies next to me on my bed.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey.” I put the book down. “You look really pretty.”

  “Thanks.”

  I slide my fingers down her arm. “Why’s your skin so soft?”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah. It’s like . . .” I brush my hand against her cheek. There are no words.

  Skye reaches under my shirt. She rubs her hand down my back. “You should take this off.”

  I immediately sit up and whip off my shirt. Led Zeppelin’s “All My Love” comes on.

  “Are you trying to seduce me with love songs?” Skye teases.

  “What if I was?”

  “Then I would have to say it’s working.”

  I’m not exactly sure when it gets light out. There’s a good chance we just set a new world record for making out. Skye only has on her bra and lacy underwear. I’m down to my boxers. We obviously want to keep kissing forever. But at some point we must have fallen asleep. We’re on top of the covers, me on my back, Skye on her stomach with her head on my chest and one leg bent over mine, when Grant barges in.

  “Whoa!” he yells.

  I jolt awake, register what’s going on, and yank the blanket over Skye.

  “Didn’t see anything,” Grant says.

  Your roommate jolting you awake while your half-naked girlfriend is sleeping on top of you is not the best way to wake up.

  We stayed up until at least sunrise. So of course it’s twelve thirty now. Which means we barely have time for brunch before Skye has to catch her train. She uses the bathroom first. When I come out after my shower, Skye and Grant are sitting on my bed, laughing at something on his laptop.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask.

  “I’m showing Grant A Day in the Life,” Skye says. “Kara just posted a video on Shit High School Seniors Say.”

  “This,” Grant proclaims, “is my new favorite site.”

  “Yay.”

  “Here.” Grant takes his laptop over to his desk. “I’m following her right now.”

  “Sweet!”

  “Ready to eat?” I ask Skye.

  “I could not be hungrier.”

  We go to Diner on the Square. Which Skye loves. Because even though she has expensive taste, she also appreciates unpretentious quality. Then I walk her to the train station and sit with her on the platform. I don’t want her to have to wait alone.

  Saying goodbye is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  “Remember,” Skye says, “it’s not ‘goodbye.’ It’s ‘until next time.’”

  I just wish it could always be next time.

  fifteen

  Skye

  your life is on fire

  MY PARENTS want to talk to me. They didn’t say what about. Just that we need to talk.

  I don’t have a good feeling about this.

  “We wanted to check in with you,” Mom starts. She’s sitting next to Dad on the couch. I’m bracing myself in the big chair. “It feels like we haven’t talked in a while. How’s everything going?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “We’ve noticed that you’re spending a lot of time talking to Seth. And all those visits—”

  “We haven’t seen each other in three weeks!” I hate that I can’t see Seth more. We were supposed to see each other every weekend. But between extra work shifts on his end and college app madness on mine, our weekends are packed. The last time I saw Seth was before Halloween. It’s tragic.

  “You talk for hours every night,” Mom says. “We’re concerned that you’re neglecting your schoolwork. Your first marking-period grades weren’t what they should be.”

  “I’m getting my grades up. I got an A on my history quiz! Everyone else got like a C.”

  “There are college applications . . . and your volunteer work . . .”

  “Remember what happened to the Farley kid,” Dad mumbles ominously.

  “I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown, Dad. And I’m getting my college apps done. Seth has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “We think he does, sweetheart,” Mom insists. “We know how important Seth is to you. It’s natural for you to want to see him more often. Now with the car . . . we want to make sure your priorities are in order.”

  My parents gave me an Infiniti for my eighteenth birthday. It’s silver and has a sunroof. I love it. I love having the freedom to go wherever I want. Theoretically. In reality, I just want to drive down to see Seth every day.

  “Trust me,” I say. “I’m getting everything done. You guys can stop worrying.”

  “It would have been nice to include One World on your college applications for this year,” Dad says.

  “Except One World had a weekly time requirement. Which is why I do Safe Rides now.” Quitting One World wasn’t my finest moment, but Seth and I are trying to make more time to see each other. I would feel selfish giving up volunteer work entirely, though. Which is why I joined Safe Rides. Drivers can spend as much time as they want giving rides to teens to get them home safely. “It’s way more flexible. Isn’t that what you guys want? For me to not do too much while still doing everything?”

  Mom sighs. She looks at Dad for help.

  “Couldn’t you go out with a boy from school?” he blurts.

  “Dad. Seth is my boyfriend.”

  “We know he is,” Mom interjects. “What your father’s trying to say is . . . well, it would be easier if you had a boyfriend who lives here. You wouldn’t have to spend so much time traveling.”

  “Are you guys serious? Do you really think it works like that? If I were interested in any of the boys at school, I’d be with one of them. Seth and I belong together. I love him.”

  Mom gives Dad a frightened look.

  “I know what goes on in those dorm rooms,” Dad throws down.

  “Seth has three roommates. And it’s not like I’m sleeping over in his room or anything. I told you. I stay with his friend.” I don’t want to lie about any of this. It’s just that they’d never let me visit Seth if they knew I was staying in his room. “You can’t stop me from seeing my boyfriend.”

  “That’s not what we want,” Mom says. “We’re concerned about you, Skye. We want to make sure your priorities are in order.”

  “My priorities haven’t changed. I’m still the same person.” I can’t remember the last time I was so furious at my parents. Part of me wants to yell all the things I’m keeping inside at them and storm out. But I have to make them understand how much Seth means to me. I’d die if they didn’t let me see him. “I get that you’re worried about me. But I’m fine. Really. Seth makes me happy. Which makes everything else in my life better.”

  “We’re happy for you, honey,” Mom says.

  “You
’ve always trusted me before. Are you saying you don’t trust me now?”

  “There’s no need to twist things around,” Dad says. “Of course we trust you. You’ve never given us a reason not to.”

  “Good. Because Seth and I want to go on a road trip Thanksgiving weekend. It would really be sad if you stopped trusting my judgment. I’m eighteen now. I’m an adult.” I search my parents’ eyes for compassion. “Please let me go. Let me prove to you that you can always trust me.”

  Mom gives Dad a sad smile. He nods. I know what they’re thinking. I’m going to do what I want with Seth. Trying to stop me will only make things worse. They have to let me go, whether they want to or not. It’s time.

  “We’ll need to discuss logistics,” Mom says.

  “Totally.”

  “We have to know where you are at all times.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You have to promise to pick up when we call.”

  “Done.”

  “Well. We’ll think about it.”

  That means yes. I can’t wait to tell Seth. I’m relieved their interrogation is over. Good thing I’m going out with my girls tonight. I’d hate to be trapped here with the parents watching me, tiptoeing around all the things we didn’t say.

  Later when Jocelyn and Kara are in my car and we’re driving into the night, I’m waiting for my stress to melt away. There’s nothing like chilling with your best friends to mellow you out. Except when tension has been building between them for so long that you’re worried they’re about to explode any second.

  “How’d it go with Luke last night?” I ask Jocelyn in the rearview mirror. They just started going out. Jocelyn went up to Luke pretty soon after school started, just like she said she would. Kara could not have been more shocked. I was double happy when Jocelyn started talking to Luke—happy that they might finally get together, but also happy that Jocelyn proved Kara wrong. I didn’t like the way Kara was talking behind Jocelyn’s back, saying that Jocelyn was never going to approach Luke. They’d been talking for almost two months when Luke asked Jocelyn out a few days ago. She was happier than I’ve ever seen her.

  “It was kind of a disaster,” Jocelyn admits. “Luke forgot that he had plans with his friends. So I was like, ‘No problem, we can reschedge.’ But then he kept saying how he wants me to hang out with his friends sometime and I was all, ‘I’d love to meet your friends!’ Which could not have been more awkward because then of course he had to invite me along even though I was clearly horning in on boys’ night. Why didn’t I wait until he asked me to hang with them? Why did I have to throw myself at them like that?”

  “But was it okay once you guys were out?” I ask hopefully.

  “Not so much. Luke didn’t tell them I was coming. It was so obvious I wedged myself into their plans. Which made me super uncomfortable and nervous and I kept apologizing for everything. We were at the rib joint and one of his friends stepped on my foot at the table and I was like, ‘Sorry!’ when I wasn’t even the one who stepped on someone’s foot. Who was that? It’s like Luke’s bringing back all the insecurities I worked so hard to overcome. Welcome back to square one. May I take your order? We have a humiliation special with a side of mortified.”

  I feel Jocelyn’s pain. She’s in that frustrating/euphoric/traumatic new relationship phase of uncertainty where all you want to do is impress the boy. Even if it compromises who you are. Even if it turns you into someone you don’t recognize. Why do girls get like that? It’s like we’d rather be who we think the boy wants us to be instead of actually being ourselves.

  Kara would normally give Jocelyn some advice right about now. But she’s not saying anything. She just keeps staring out the window.

  The strip mall at the edge of town is only good for one thing: the totally random, totally delicious pommes frites place. If there’s one thing we love, it’s crispy fries with fifty kinds of dipping sauce. We get all set up with large cones of fries and a bunch of dipping sauces and dig in.

  Kara’s phone buzzes. She takes it out of her bag and laughs at the screen. She frantically texts back.

  Jocelyn shoots me an exasperated look. Kara’s been ignoring us for texts a lot lately. We usually tell each other who it is. But Kara’s not telling us anything. Sometimes it seems like she’d rather be talking to whoever’s texting her than hanging out with us.

  “Who are you texting?” Jocelyn asks.

  “Chanel. She wanted to come tonight, but she couldn’t make it.”

  That’s news to us. Since when is Chanel part of our group? And since when do we invite other people without asking if it’s okay first?

  Kara keeps texting. Jocelyn and I eat our fries in the ominous silence.

  “Your fries are getting cold,” Jocelyn tells Kara after a few long minutes.

  “Sorry.” Kara finishes with her phone. She leaves it on the table. “She was asking about Dillon.”

  “Did you guys make up yet?” I ask.

  “No. I don’t even know why we’re fighting. So what if I went to see Anton’s show with Chanel instead of him? Dillon doesn’t even like Persons of Interest.”

  That post-separation happiness cloud Kara and Dillon were floating on didn’t last long. They keep getting in fights about what Kara insists is nothing. Expect it’s not nothing. It’s a boy Kara is clearly fighting feelings for, even if she won’t admit it.

  Jocelyn says, “If you have feelings for Anton—”

  “The only feelings I have are annoyed ones. Dillon thinks he’s entitled to dictate who my friends are. It’s getting old.”

  “He’s worried about Anton.”

  Kara’s pomme frite freezes halfway to her mouth. “What?”

  “Dillon’s jealous of Anton,” Jocelyn clarifies.

  “Why should he be jealous? Anton and I are just friends.”

  We look at Kara.

  “I’m allowed to be friends with a boy,” Kara says defensively. “Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal.”

  “It’s okay if you like Anton,” Jocelyn says.

  “I don’t! I’m in love with Dillon, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Actually? I haven’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jocelyn shakes her head. “Forget it.”

  “No, what?”

  “It’s just that . . . all you guys do is fight. The only time you sound happy is when you’re talking about Anton. You obviously like him.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kara fires back. “You’ve only been with Luke for three weeks. That’s nothing. Dillon and I have been together for three years.”

  “Why does everything have to be a competition with you?”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Yes, it does! You always have to be better at everything. Or more experienced or more informed or more whatever. Just because I have less relationship experience than you doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “Outburst. See, this is why I’ve been hanging out with Chanel. She doesn’t pick stupid fights with me.”

  “Maybe you’re the reason people are fighting with you.”

  Jocelyn told me about how Kara’s been increasingly getting on her nerves, but she’s never told Kara to her face before. I’m not exactly sure why it’s coming out now. I guess when you’re carrying so much weight around, you never know when it might get too heavy to keep carrying.

  “What’s all this about?” Kara asks.

  “It’s about how you can be really insensitive sometimes.” Jocelyn’s voice is shaky. “You have this attitude like the whole world revolves around you. Why do you have to control everything?”

  “Like when?”

  “Like when you didn’t want Chanel to drive me to that party because you just had to be the first one to meet Seth. Or how you always take the passenger seat like you own it. Did it ever occur to you that I might want to sit up front?”

  “Um . . .”

 
“I’m sorry I’ve been keeping all this in. But I’m not sorry for saying it. When I made a pact to do senior year differently, one thing I promised myself is that I’d speak up more. So this is me speaking up.”

  Kara looks at me like, Can you believe this?

  I concentrate on digging the crunchiest fries out from the bottom of my cone.

  Obviously, we don’t feel like doing anything else. The ride home is a nightmare. Kara and Jocelyn stare out their windows in icy silence.

  Kara gets dropped off first. She opens the back door. No way was she calling shotgun after what Jocelyn said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Skye. You probably have a lot you want to tell me without . . . you know. Certain people in the car.”

  “Like she would take your side?” Jocelyn says. “Anyone could see how ridiculous you’re being.”

  “She doesn’t think I’m being ridiculous. She’s my friend.”

  “So was I until you turned into a megabitch!”

  “Can you please tell her she’s the one being a bitch, Skye?”

  They both look at me expectantly. How am I going to handle this? Should I agree with both sides? Or pull a Switzerland and remain neutral?

  “You guys,” I say. “Don’t put me in the middle of . . . whatever.”

  “Whatever?” Kara says. “One best friend turning against me and the other refusing to defend me is not whatever.” She heaves out of the backseat, slams the door, and stalks across her lawn.

  I drive to Jocelyn’s house. The lump in my throat won’t go away.

  “You agree with me, right?” Jocelyn asks.

  “Can I . . . I really don’t want to get stuck in the middle,” I say. “Sorry if that sounds lame.”

  “No, I completely understand,” Jocelyn says. But I can tell she’s disappointed I’m not taking her side.

  After I drop Jocelyn off and head home, a crying fit attacks out of nowhere. One minute I’m planning my strategy to stay out of their fight until Jocelyn and Kara make up. The next minute I’m pulling over to the side of the road. I’m crying too hard to keep driving.

  I call Seth when I can breathe again.

  “Hey,” he says. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “I’m having a meltdown.”