Just Another Girl

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  I think this goes without saying: Life’s not fair.

  Madelyn strides over next to her and starts helping herself. “Hi, Parker.”

  Parker gives her a tight smile before heading over to the corner where Brady will protect her.

  “Was it something I said?” Madelyn asks me with a wink.

  I grab a chip with seven-layer dip off her plate. “Not at all. It’s not like you’re intimidating or anything.”

  When people see Madelyn in her all-black clothes and I-don’t-care-about-any-of-you attitude, they automatically assume she’s a bitch. Yes, she’s tough. Yes, she tells it like it is, but she’s been such a great friend to me the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t like she made some grand gesture, but she simply said an encouraging word there, sent a funny late-night text here. Most of all, she understands how much this has taken out of me. That’s all I can ask in a friend: to understand what I’m going through.

  I almost can’t fathom what I’ll do with my time once it’s all over. Hopefully, we’ll have nationals to go to. Although by that point the machine will be finished. I can actually have fun again. Oh, and study algebra and go back on a diet, and it’s probably about time I figure out what I’m going to do about college.

  Ugh. Now I don’t want Saturday to come if that’s waiting for me when I get back.

  “How are you feeling?” Mr. Sutton asks.

  “Okay. I think you’re going to like the changes.” He’s come over a couple of times to advise, but hasn’t seen the finished project except in pictures and videos.

  “You’ve done a great job, Hope.” He pats me on the back. “I hope you do it again next year. Maybe you’d like to join us,” he says to Madelyn.

  She snorts. “That’s a big ol’ negative. I’ve seen how much it’s driving Hope completely nutso. Let me hit you with a hard, painful truth, Mr. Sutton: With all of the talk about nothing but machines for the last few weeks I feel like I already am in the group.”

  Hey, even Madelyn has to admit it’s better than constantly talking about Brady. So take that, Bechdel test.

  “Attention! Attention!” Mom clinks her glass. “I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. I think I speak on behalf of everybody’s parents when I say we’re so proud of you for sticking with this project. Getting to go to regionals is a huge accomplishment regardless of the outcome.”

  “We’re going to crush the competition!” Brady boasts from the corner, where his arm is around Parker’s waist. It’s a sight I’m so used to seeing. They always seem required to touch each other whenever they’re together. I once read in some online article that it means they’re an insecure couple, although my parents are always touching and there’s nothing insecure about them.

  But it’s seeing Parker so comfortable around Brady that’s really bothering me. She’s so at ease in her life. It all seems to go her way with little effort, while all I do is struggle. As much as I try to convince myself that maybe I want something else, I can’t help how I feel about Brady. Would I seriously put myself through all the agony and pining for someone if I could help it?

  Dammit. So much for passing Bechdel.

  Again, that’s something else for me to deal with when the competition is over.

  So it’s passing classes, researching colleges, dieting, and either snagging Brady or moving on.

  Man, I don’t want Saturday to come.

  Mostly because I’m going to miss this time with these guys. Although it’s not going to end, because we’re going to win.

  “Let’s see this machine you guys have been spending all this time with,” Mr. Lambert says while he nudges Brady.

  The group goes down to the basement where the machine sits, waiting to either destroy or make us. Everybody else gathers around the machine, while the club stands behind it.

  “Hope,” Brady whispers in my ear, “time for you to rock this thing.”

  “Okay!” I clap my hands. “We went with a medieval theme, if you couldn’t tell. Our machine’s objective is to inflate and pop a balloon. I should mention there’s a good chance we may need to make some adjustments or reset something, so please be patient.”

  My heart’s racing and I’m only doing this in front of a small group of family and friends. I was so honored the guys wanted me to present, I didn’t think about having to stand there in front of hundreds of strangers while I represented us. I figured I could work on my actual speech with Brady in the car tomorrow.

  I take that cursed marble in my hand and place it at the front of the machine.

  With more nerves than I anticipated having in front of a relatively friendly audience, I place the marble at the top of the ramp and let go. The marble knocks into our LEGO knight on a horse, who makes his way down a ramp. At the end of the ramp, he hits the first in a line of dominoes that start knocking over in a swiveling line. The last domino hits the mousetrap, which snaps, pulling down on a lever, then releasing a ball from a spoon, which hits a funnel and travels down a corkscrew pipe. The ball knocks over a water bottle, which dumps its contents out into a funnel. The funnel empties the water into a balloon that begins to fill up. Once the balloon is full, the side of the balloon nudges a mallet, which swings on a string to hit a silver ball that travels down a ramp, hits the edge, drops down to another ramp below, and rolls down three more ramps until it reaches the end. From there, it pushes over a weighted washer with a string attached. As the washer falls, it pulls three evil LEGO knights, who have a damsel in distress in a wagon behind their horses, across a field. The lead evil knight runs into a LEGO cannon, which releases a ball that goes down a ramp and drops directly on a fan’s button. The fan begins to blow a sailboat, manned by our heroic knight, across a small pond to the castle. The bow of the ship tips over a glass, which releases a ball onto a tilted xylophone and musical notes ring out before the ball lands on a seesaw. The LEGO knight, on the other side of the seesaw, gets catapulted over the castle walls while the string attached to the seesaw turns on a drill. The drill begins to wrap the string around the bit, pulling another LEGO knight, this one armed with a lance, up above the castle. Once the string is all used up, the knight gets released on another ramp. He goes flying down the ramp, right to the balloon. His spear punctures the balloon and … it pops.

  It worked.

  IT. WORKED.

  The basement erupts in applause while Dan, Conor, Brady, and I form a private circle, our arms around one another as we jump up and down celebrating.

  “We did it!” Brady embraces me and then kisses me on the cheek. “You’re the best, Hope. The best.”

  My automatic reflex is to look over at Parker to see if she saw the kiss or heard what he said. She did.

  Could this moment get any better?

  Brady’s focus is still on me. It’s like we’re the only two people in the room. He smiles at me, shaking his head. He hugs me again. “You’re amazing. I hope you know that, Hope.”

  A lump forms in my throat. I open my mouth to say something to him, but I’m at a loss for words.

  Dan grabs me by the shoulders. “Did we just do that? Am I imagining this? Please tell me this isn’t a full mental breakdown.”

  I laugh. “We really did it.”

  “Holy crap, it’s about time!” Conor puts his hand in the middle of our tight circle while the rest of us follow his lead. “One, two, three, Team Knights in Shining Armor!”

  “And our fair princess,” Brady adds with a wink.

  The four of us raise our hands up in a cheer, before continuing to high-five and embrace one another. Tears, happy tears, stream down my face as words of encouragement and congratulations swirl around us from our proud families.

  This is my team. All that work paid off. We’re ready.

  Forget what I said about not wanting Saturday to be here. If I can handle rebuilding a machine in less than a month, I can handle some silly exams, delicious complex carbs, meddlesome girlfriends, and anything else that wants to come my way.

 
; Bring it on.

  1 DAY AWAY

  There are many reasons to have Madelyn as a best friend. But at this moment, I’m grateful because she knows how to put together the perfect road-trip mix to impress the guy you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember.

  “This song is insane,” Brady says, turning up the volume as some band I’d never heard of until yesterday fills the car while we make our way to Cleveland, with Mr. Sutton and the guys not far behind in a separate car. He insisted on riding with me, so I have taken that as a huge sign that this weekend will be amazing. “You always have the coolest taste in music.”

  I decide not to correct him that it’s Madelyn’s.

  He reclines his seat a bit, making sure not to hit the machine, which has been carefully packed in the back. “It’s good to get away, you know?”

  I quickly glance at him. His eyes are closed, a slight smile on his face. He seems at peace and happy.

  My eyes return to the road while I try to get what he’s saying. Yeah, it’s good to get away from school and my parents, but it’s not like we’re going on vacation. Tomorrow’s going to be insanely intense. It’s also going to be stressful when we get to the venue later to put the machine together and do a run-through. Basically, the next twenty-four will be mega-pressure.

  So I have to ask the question (I really do): What or who is Brady excited to get away from?

  “Everything okay?” I fish for a clue. All I’ve been doing for the last few weeks is reeling out that question to him, hoping for a bite, or any insight into what’s going on with him. Truly going on. It can’t simply be this competition that’s getting to him. Or maybe it’s just me hoping there’s something else stressful in his life. And that it begins with P and ends in arker.

  He sighs. “Yeah, I guess. I’m letting stupid stuff wear me down.”

  I nod as if I have any idea what he’s talking about, hoping he’ll continue talking. But he remains silent, his face leaning toward the sun.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, because maybe he does. He’s the one who brought it up.

  “Remember the summer before I started high school?”

  “Of course I do.” That was back when we were inseparable. We spent every day together. We’d either bike to the lake or the park. Or we’d hang out at my house, watch movies, play video games, eat my mom’s food.

  “I wish things were like back then.” His voice sounds sad.

  “Do you want to stop to get a coffee?” I offer. We still have thirty miles before I have to exit the highway, but I want to concentrate on Brady right now, not the road.

  “Naw, let’s get there.”

  “Okay, but for the record, I wish things were like that, too.”

  “We had so much fun together, Hope. I don’t know …” He lets that thought linger in the air.

  “You don’t know what?” I press. Is it because it’s his senior year that’s he’s becoming sentimental?

  “I sometimes wish things were different.”

  My stomach drops. I want to read into what he’s saying. I want to believe he’s talking about me. Because I want things to be different, too. I want things to be like they were before her.

  Okay, put all my delusions aside. And yes, there are a lot of them. Let’s be real for a second: What else could he mean? WHAT ELSE?

  “What do you wish was different?” I ask with a slight quiver in my voice.

  “Where to start?” He shakes his head before closing his eyes. “I’m gonna try to take a quick nap before we get there. You okay?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  Even though I have no idea how I am or what to think.

  Somehow, despite all the thoughts bouncing around in my head, I am able to not only get us to Cleveland in one piece, but get the machine assembled and working in record time.

  Brady acts as if nothing happened in the car. He’s his old chatting and teasing self as we finish setting up the machine and go to dinner with the rest of the team. I’m fairly positive that conversation in the car wasn’t all in my mind. I wouldn’t put it past me to have my Brady fantasies go into overdrive with the competition tomorrow, but I know he said those things.

  Too bad I have no idea what any of it means.

  I go back to my room and lie down. The TV’s on, but I’m not paying any attention to it, just like it felt as if I was a million miles away when Mom called to tell me that she and Dad would be in Cleveland by nine tomorrow morning. I’m too busy staring at the ceiling wondering if everything I’ve dreamed about for years is actually going to come true. Is this going to be the weekend when things start working out for me?

  There’s a knock on my door and my heart skips a beat. I’ve never been in a hotel room by myself. As much as I was looking forward to it, it kind of freaks me out, even though Mr. Sutton is right next door. (The guys are on the other side of him.)

  I approach the door cautiously. I don’t think this is one of the fancy hotels where they have turndown service. As I glance through the peephole, my throat tightens when I see it’s Brady.

  I unlatch the chain and unlock the bolt. “Hey,” I attempt to say in a casual voice, but know I’ve failed miserably.

  “Hey, thought I’d check to see how you’re doing.”

  “Come in.” I open the door to let him in.

  Brady is in my hotel room. Just the two of us. He sits on my bed.

  Let me state that again in case it’s lost on anyone: Brady Lambert is on my bed. By his own volition.

  “I was hanging out with the guys and realized I owed you an apology for how I’ve been lately,” he says.

  I sit down next to him on the bed. “You don’t have to apologize. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that things have been a bit … off with you. I’m sorry if this competition is stressing you out.”

  “It’s not the club at all,” he assures me. “It’s been a nice distraction.”

  Okay, but a distraction from what? What happened to the Brady who used to tell me everything?

  Oh, right, her.

  He needs to remember who he’s talking to. “You know you can talk to me about anything. At least, you used to.”

  He looks down at his hands in his lap. “I know, but …”

  I hate the word but. It’s always an excuse for something (and I’ve used it enough to know). That’s all I feel like I’m hearing from Brady: I want to tell you, but I can’t (because of Parker). I want to be with you, but … Parker.

  I’m starting to think it’s just his way of not coming out and telling me how he really feels. Maybe he likes torturing me? Maybe he doesn’t want to let me go? Maybe he doesn’t even know he has me to begin with?

  “Brady.” I put my hand on top of his. “This is me, Hope. We’ve been through so much together. There isn’t anything you can’t tell me. I know you’d feel better if you just got it off your chest.”

  He considers me for a moment. “I know, I know, but …”

  Ugh, enough buts already. Spit it out!

  “I want to tell you everything, but it’s not really my secret to tell.”

  So that’s it. There’s a secret he’s hiding, but it’s not his secret. It has to be Parker, right? Everything is always about Parker.

  Brady and I have so much of a shared history, it’s weird to have something this big between us that we can’t seem to talk about. But …

  I’m so sick of whatever’s going on with Parker getting in my way. I need to figure it out so we can move on. Once I know that, Brady will really open up. No more secrets between us.

  I keep my face neutral. Brady is a talker, or at least he used to be. I simply need to get him to think I already know what he’s talking about. I’ll manipulate him, just like we do with the machines.

  “You mean Parker’s secret?” I ask nonchalantly, like I’m talking about the weather.

  Brady’s head snaps up so he’s looking me in the eyes. “Wait a second, you know?”

  “Of course.” I nod, all
the while reminding myself to keep everything about my appearance neutral. I don’t want him to think I’m judging Parker, whatever her secret is. Even though my mind is reeling with the possibilities: that she’s failing a class, that she cheated on him, that she’s a smoker (although I already know that), or, oh God, please don’t let it be that she’s pregnant.

  A realization hits Brady. “That makes sense, with your mom and all.”

  Remain calm!!! I scream inside my head while I’m trying to figure out what my mom has to do with any of this. How she could know something about Parker and keep it a secret from me. She always told me we didn’t keep secrets. Guess I was wrong.

  “Is everything okay with Parker?” I ask, focusing the attention back to the matter at hand.

  Brady sighs and falls back on the bed. “Oh God, it’s a disaster. I mean, she tries to keep it all together, but how could she not be pissed, right? I’m pissed. But then again, I’m still here helping her pick up the pieces. Which actually makes me super pissed.”

  “Right,” I reply, trying to figure out what this all means. It’s like one of those equations Parker makes me do, but I need all the factors before I can add everything together. So far I only have x. “That must be hard.”

  “Right? What kind of parent just abandons their kids? And like, I can tell things aren’t good with Hayley. Parker never even lets me inside the trailer anymore. Not like I enjoyed being inside of it, it’s so depressing. Have you been?”

  I mumble some kind of sound as I try to understand what Brady’s telling me. One of Parker’s parents has left? It couldn’t be both, though. When was the last time I saw one of her parents?

  I have absolutely no idea.

  None.

  But why? Who would do that to their kid? Now I find myself angry at the situation as well. And she lives in a trailer? Did I even know where Parker lived before? How could that be possible?

  And how on earth do I have even more questions now?

  Brady continues as if he’s been waiting years to get this off his chest. “And like, I can never tell who knows and who we need to be careful around. Nothing is easy, because she’s so stubborn about help, which makes it worse. I wish she would understand that we’re all happy to give her a ride or have her over for dinner. So yeah, this wasn’t how I was picturing my senior year, but whatever, it’s not a big deal.” He pauses for a minute, then gets up and starts pacing the room. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? It’s like there are so many bad things in her life, so I have to try extra hard to be a good thing. I have to be this perfect boyfriend all the time. I’m afraid to make plans in case she needs something from me. And we’re not just talking about a stupid ride. I’m talking about a meal. A lousy meal. How messed up is that? I know I have it easy. I know she’s the one who has it hard. But I’m tired, Hope. I’m overwhelmed. This isn’t my fault, and it isn’t Parker’s, yet we’re the ones dealing with the mess her crappy parents left behind. Then to top it all off, I make it worse by …” He collapses his head into his hands.