Just Another Girl

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  “Don’t worry about it. Lesson learned: not worthy.”

  “Did they say I’m fat?”

  “No!” Madelyn protests. “Not at all. It’s probably a compliment, but I didn’t like it.”

  “Tell me,” I say in such a small voice, I almost didn’t realize it came from me.

  “That Ken guy for some reason thought in his small, pea-size brain that making an extremely crude comment about your, ah, abundant chest would win me over. Disgusting pig.”

  I look down at my chest. Madelyn convinced me to wear a V-neck shirt that’s snug around my chest. My mom wears those all the time, but I opted for one with an empire waist so it would hide my tummy. I button up my cardigan to the top button before turning on the car.

  Maybe it’s better not to be noticed at all.

  12 DAYS AWAY

  I don’t believe it. This can’t be real.

  I walk out of class, staring at the piece of paper in my hand.

  My name is called out. I look up to see Parker waving me down the hallway.

  “So?” she asks.

  My eyes are about to pop out of my head as I turn my advanced algebra test around to show her my score.

  “A B!” Parker exclaims. Then, to probably both our surprises, she wraps her arms around me. “You did it! That’s so great! Congratulations!”

  Her body is as bony as I expected, but being so close to Parker, I also notice she smells a bit like smoke. I didn’t realize Parker smoked.

  So it seems that Pretty Perfect Parker isn’t so perfect.

  “Thanks,” I reply quietly.

  Inquisitive eyes are on us in the hallway. Our school’s small enough that people know an odd pairing when they see one.

  “Let me look.” Parker examines my test, nods a few times. “I think you’re going to ace the next one.” A yawn takes over. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  I wince. It’s no secret she sometimes spends the night at Brady’s. Well, maybe it is, but it isn’t a secret if you live only a couple of houses away. Okay, and semi-stalk the comings and goings of one of the house members. I don’t know Parker’s parents at all, but I can’t believe Brady’s parents allow it. Mom doesn’t let me even have guys up in my bedroom during the day. Let alone sleep over.

  Not like there are a ton of guys banging down my door, but still.

  “I really needed some good news,” Parker says over another yawn.

  So did I. We got the machine completely finished on Saturday. We went to run through it and there were five places where the machine either stopped or failed to do what it was supposed to do.

  Five places.

  And the competition’s next Saturday.

  “Have you told your mom?” Parker asks. She looks genuinely happy for me. It’s the first sign of her not being disgusted with me since Valentine’s Day.

  “Not yet.” Since I literally just exited the class.

  “She’s going to freak!”

  I think Parker’s more excited for my mom than she is for me that I might not fail class.

  But, as much as I hate to admit it, Parker is a huge reason I did so well. Okay, she’s the only reason. I decide to toss her an olive branch.

  “Why don’t we wait until after school to tell her?” Parker’s coming over to tutor me, since one B isn’t going to save me from failing.

  “Really?” Parker gives me a huge smile. It’s the first time I’ve seen her teeth in a really long time. I didn’t realize she had a gap between her two front teeth. Of course it works on her. (Of course it does.)

  “Yeah.”

  Mom is going to freak out. Parker should be part of that.

  It’s all I’m willing to give her.

  “Can’t wait!” Parker pats me on the back. “Congrats again. You did such a good job.”

  I really did. I thought passing advanced algebra was hopeless. I simply accepted the fact it wouldn’t happen. But with a little hard work, I did it.

  Maybe other goals aren’t so far out of reach.

  And maybe, just maybe, I’m not so stupid, after all.

  “So what’s the plan?” Parker asks as we get into my car after school. “Do you think she’ll remember you were getting your test back today?”

  “Um, have you met my mother, Parker?” I tease. “She remembers everything going on in my life, down to the gritty details. She already texted me. I told her I’d tell her when I got home, which means she’s going to assume I didn’t do well.”

  Parker rubs her hands together. “That’s so good. Way to throw her off the scent.”

  “It’s become a necessary life skill if I want to get through my teen years only semi-scathed.”

  Parker laughs. “I’m sure.”

  Okay, this is bizarre. Parker and I are getting along. It’s not as if I’ve forgotten anything about our past and what she represents, but today’s been a good day. We’ve both earned it so I’ll wave the white flag.

  For today.

  We pull into the garage and Parker’s giddy with excitement. I have to admit, it’s kinda hilarious. I’m used to Mom fussing over the simplest things, but it’s almost as if Parker never gets rewarded, which I doubt. She does everything right. She must get showered with praise constantly. Now I wish I saved this moment with Mom for myself.

  But it’s too late. The minute we walk into the house, Mom’s waiting for us. She’s biting her bottom lip so hard, it looks like it’s about to be ripped in half. She’s wringing her hands and her leg’s shaking rapidly. I try not to laugh when I realize the house smells like cookies.

  “What happened?” Mom asks, her hand up to her chest, awaiting the bad news.

  I want to milk this for a little bit, make Mom sweat (more than she is now). However, Parker is too busy jumping on the balls of her feet.

  “Show her!” she says.

  So much for building tension. I reach into my school bag to get my exam. It’s barely out of my bag before Mom snatches it.

  “Oh, Hope, mija!” Mom’s eyes well up with tears. “I’m so proud of you!”

  She gives me a huge hug.

  Yep, all this for getting a B. With such low standards, you’d think I’d have much higher self-esteem.

  “And you!” Mom reaches her arms out to Parker. “None of this would be possible without you!” She embraces Parker.

  They both stand in the kitchen for a few moments with their arms around each other. It’s weird, seeing Mom and Parker so close. And it’s a little unsettling how much both of them seem to need this hug.

  Ah, hello? She’s my mom. It’s my test. It’s as if my important role in all this doesn’t matter.

  Mom pulls away from Parker and wipes the tears on her face. I mean, really? Mom should’ve been an actress because this display is all a little too dramatic for me. How stupid did she think I was that I couldn’t get a B on a math test?

  “Now we celebrate!” Mom pulls out the cookies that were warming in the oven. She puts them on the kitchen table and gets out milk.

  Parker happily dives into one of the bigger cookies. Does she ever have to worry about calories? But it would be wrong not to celebrate, so I grab a cookie and take a bite.

  “This is so good, Mrs. Kaplan.” Hope closes her eyes as she finishes her cookie.

  “It’s Gabriela!” Mom pours us each a glass of milk and puts it on the counter.

  I’m having milk and cookies with Parker Jackson after school. What kind of eerie, demented reality is this?

  Thing is: It’s not that bad. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not great. It’s not as if having Mom’s cookies could ever be bad. But still …

  Mom claps her hands together. “I know what this calls for! A celebratory dinner! Parker, are you working tonight?”

  She shakes her head, since she’s already on her second cookie. (And yes, I’m totally counting.)

  “I’m going to call Hope’s dad and we’ll go somewhere special, the four of us. How does that sound?”

  Parker
finishes chewing. “That would be great, thanks.”

  “Would you like your sister to join us?” Mom offers.

  “She has to work.”

  I’ve only seen Parker’s sister a few times. I don’t even know where she works. It’s strange. Parker’s family is never around much. Like, I don’t even know the last time I’ve seen her parents. I’ve probably only met them once or twice since she moved here. It’s not like I hang out at the bank where her dad works.

  Maybe Parker’s family doesn’t get involved in every aspect of her life. They probably have dinner waiting for her on the table when she gets home, and don’t force her to answer a million questions about every single aspect of her day.

  Must be nice.

  7 DAYS AWAY

  So much for feeling smart.

  Although in my defense, Dan’s also about to reach his breaking point.

  “Are you kidding me?” he screams out when the ball lands perfectly on the button to turn on the fan, but nothing happens. The button doesn’t press down and the fan remains off. “Someone hold me back or I’m going to destroy this entire thing.”

  Okay, Dan’s officially broken. So is this machine.

  We’ve been able to successfully get three out of the five issues fixed. All we have left is to get the fan to turn on so it can blow the boat across our homemade moat. Everything after that works until we’re supposed to pop the balloon. The lance isn’t pressing into the balloon hard enough. Two things and one week left.

  I know we can fix this. We’ve been taking each issue step by step, getting closer to our desired result. So, in a way, our team has now turned into a Rube Goldberg machine (especially the part about doing things in the most complicated way).

  Brady places his hand on the fan, but accidentally knocks over a set of dominos we had lined up. In his attempt to stop the chain reaction, he bumps one of our funnels, which took us three hours the night before to get in the right position.

  “Crap!” Brady yells as he steps away from the machine with his arms up. “Are you even kidding me? Can I have something go right for once?”

  I look at Brady with furrowed brows because of his uncharacteristic tantrum. Plus, things seem to be going just fine for him. He’s three months away from graduation and already been accepted to Purdue, his first choice. He’s got a perfect girlfriend. This club can’t be stressing him out that much.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Brady says as he paces the basement.

  “Brady?” I ask. I take a step toward him. He backs away from me.

  “Sorry.”

  Well, that answers everything.

  While I’m tempted to take him upstairs to find out what that was all about, we only have a week to figure this out. There’s no time. Besides, anytime I do try to talk to him, I get a shrug or he talks about the club.

  Conor and I, apparently the only two left in the room who haven’t completely lost their minds, bend down to figure out what’s going on with the fan.

  Conor presses the On button. “I don’t think the ball’s heavy enough to move this down.”

  “But we can’t use another ball since everything leading up to this point has been based on this size and weight,” I argue.

  Dan takes a deep breath from across the room. “I’ll remove the button from the fan to see if I can make it work with minimal pressure.”

  Conor and I exchange a look. I have a feeling that if we let Dan near the machine and one more thing goes wrong, he really will destroy it.

  “You know,” I begin as I can feel a headache coming on (my own breakdown will not be far behind), “why don’t we call it a night. We can fix everything tomorrow when we aren’t so exhausted.” And angry. And frustrated.

  I glance over at the four-foot-by-four-foot piece of plywood that has so many moving elements that if we weren’t under so much pressure, I’d be impressed we only have two issues left.

  Conor and Dan start to collect their things, while Brady makes his way over to me.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay—you don’t need to apologize,” I reply. What I really want to say to him is that you don’t need to apologize for that understandable outburst. However, for keeping your distance from me and not sharing anything about what’s going on with you, you owe me not only an apology but an explanation.

  I study Brady, and it’s the first time he’s seemed almost like a stranger. Sure, the guy before me is the Brady I’ve known for forever, wearing his favorite black-and-white striped hoodie, but I really have no idea what’s going on inside his head.

  One minute he’s reminiscing with me and telling me he’s going to miss me, the next he can’t seem to get enough distance between us. Every time I feel like Brady and I take a step forward (a confession, Valentine’s Day dinner), we take forty thousand steps back (his coldness, and, you know, Parker).

  But here’s the thing: I’m kind of different, too. That conversation with Madelyn about Brady after Valentine’s Day left more of an impression on me than it should have. That wasn’t cool of him, even if I share some of the blame. Between studying for algebra and getting this ready, I haven’t had enough time to obsess over him. It’s only in moments like this, when we’re together, that I wonder what’s happening between us. Not in the future, but now, this moment.

  What is he thinking?

  Conor puts his jacket on. “Hey, guys, we need to talk about which one of us is going to do the presentation.”

  I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Someone from the team needs to introduce us, explain our machine, and start the chain reaction. I assumed it would be Dan. He’s a senior and the one who has been able to fix most of our problems.

  “Hope,” all three guys say pretty much at the same time.

  “What?” I ask, surprised. “Why me?”

  Brady laughs. “Um, you’re the one who started this. Of course it’s going to be you.”

  “Yeah,” Dan says with a nod. “It’s pretty obvious.”

  “Really?”

  “You do have a rather high charisma score,” Conor adds.

  Ah, I’ll take that as a compliment since I need all the good scores I can get. Although, I don’t know why I’m so surprised the guys want me to do it. This technically is my club, but still … I’m really touched they want me to represent the team.

  “Really.” Brady puts his arm around me. “Look at what you’ve done, what you started.” He gestures at our machine.

  And just like that, one simple gesture from Brady makes all my doubt disappear. Not only what’s going on (or not) between us, but what this club has accomplished.

  I’d been so focused on the little details that aren’t working, I don’t know if I really ever stood back and looked at it as a whole. Not to brag, but it’s hella impressive. We’ve built our own medieval world with pulleys and levers and it does something. Well, it’ll eventually do something. (I hope.)

  I lean into Brady. “It really is crazy, but it’s something we’ve done.”

  The four of us have made this insane, cool thing. We’re a team.

  For the first time since I can remember, the voice of doubt in my head that tells me I’m not good enough and fixates constantly on things I can’t control is silent.

  Maybe this is where I belong. Not as a girlfriend, but with this weird, nerdy group. Making the seemingly impossible actually possible. Maybe that will be enough.

  Although can a maybe ever be enough?

  2 DAYS AWAY

  “Come in! Come in!” Mom opens the door to Dan and his mom. “Welcome!”

  “I’m surprised your mom didn’t dress up as a princess,” Madelyn whispers to me as we stand around the living room waiting for everybody to arrive. Mom decided to throw the team a going-away party, and resistance was futile.

  “She was planning a theme. You know she loves her some themes. She even did research on medieval cuisine,” I say. “But, she wasn’t too excited about making food with cabbage, beets, and wild game.”r />
  “Thank God,” Madelyn replies with her eyes glued to the table of food Mom put together. She assembled a small LEGO castle as the centerpiece and had a couple of knight figurines posed throughout her spread of different dips, cheeses, meats, and veggies.

  The doorbell rings again and I know it will be Brady with his family since everybody else is here: Conor with his parents and younger sister, Mr. Sutton, Dan and his mom, my parents, and Madelyn (my plus-one).

  “Aye, enter if ye dare!” Dad says to Brady, his parents, and Parker as he opens the door.

  “Dad, it’s not pirate themed,” I remind him.

  “Walk the plank, you!” he replies with a hearty laugh.

  “Hi,” Parker says to the group while Mrs. Lambert hands Mom some cupcakes with domino decorations on top. She gives me a little wave and I return it with a lackluster smile.

  Conor gives her a hug. I haven’t been able to get any details from him on his date with Lila. Okay, not like I haven’t been perusing their profiles to see any relationship updates or pictures. Parker is pretty much nonexistent online. Most of the photos on her page were tagged by Lila or Brady. It’s as if posting on social media is below her. I’m surprised she doesn’t want to shove her perfect life in everybody’s faces.

  But after some … let’s call it research (stalking is such a loaded word), it doesn’t seem like Lila and Conor are having some great love affair. I wouldn’t even know they went on a date except that it was brought up at that one meeting.

  Honestly, all the group’s talked about for the last couple of weeks is the machine. We had one successful run-through late (and I mean late) last night after every element was fixed. I could barely keep my eyes open during class today. Luckily the coffee shop is on my way to school so I got a huge mocha coffee to get me through the morning.

  Parker heads over to the food table and helps herself as she piles her plate with cheese and carrots drenched in dip.

  I wonder what it’s like to feel as if you can take whatever you want when you go over to someone’s house. She’s always stuffing her face with the food Mom puts out. Tonight is no exception. And let’s not forget (because I never will), she helped herself to Brady the first time she came here.