The Me I Meant to Be

by Sophie Jordan

  “But you do have a thing with Ava?” I pressed.

  “It’s just flirting. Ava knows that. Besides, it’s not wrong for Flor to see me with other girls. It might help her realize we’re really over and she should move on.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We stopped at a red light and he twisted in his seat to look at me. “What’s that mean?”

  I tried not to squirm under his stare. Those gray eyes always saw too much. It was a constant worry. I lifted my hands and let them drop back down on my lap. “Couldn’t you flirt with someone who isn’t friends with Flor?”

  He stared at me for a long moment, and the skin near the corner of my eye started to twitch. Don’t see me. Don’t see the truth. It was a recurring mantra in my head.

  “Flor’s popular. She has a lot of friends. I’m going to need a list,” he snapped.

  A car honked behind us. Zach faced forward again and hit the accelerator, speeding us through the green light with a sigh.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. He never snapped at me.

  I didn’t want tension between us. I’d told myself that I wouldn’t let Flor and Zach’s dating (or breaking up) change anything. Our friendships would stay strong. Nothing would change.

  “Why are you sorry?” he asked as he pulled into the school parking lot.

  I immediately spotted Flor getting out of her car. We parked in the first vacant spot we came to, a few spots down from her. I stared straight ahead. It was easier than looking at him.

  I was sorry about a lot of things. Things I could never confess.

  If I didn’t want anything to change, I should probably stop interrogating him like this and remember that we were just friends. Friends didn’t judge.

  “Willa?”

  I unbuckled my seat belt. “We’re going to be late. Good luck tonight.”

  “Are you going to Sharla Anderson’s party?”

  I winced. “Probably not.”

  He nodded, not bothering to ask why not. He knew me well enough. “Okay. See you later.”

  I stepped out of the car and walked to where Flor was waiting for me. I knew she would be waiting. Just like I knew the question she would ask.

  “Did he say anything about me?”

  GIRL CODE #4:

  Presence is required if a friend has been dumped.

  Flor

  “WILLAAA,” I whined. “You have to go with me.”

  I opened her closet and started sliding hangers, searching for something for Willa to wear, because I knew that would be one of the excuses she was going to throw at me. I cringed as I pushed past ancient hoodies that looked like they might have belonged to her mom. I shook my head. She needed a serious wardrobe makeover.

  “You know I hate parties like this,” she complained. Just like I knew she would. “And I promised Chloe I’d watch a movie with her.”

  “I need you there, Willa. And it will be good for you.”

  She motioned in the direction of the street, where Jenna was waiting in the car. Almost on cue, Jenna honked several times. She was clearly anxious to get to the party. “You have Jenna, and a hundred other people you know will be there.”

  The football game had ended an hour ago, but I’d gone home to shower and change before heading to the after party. I wanted to look my best. Tonight was important. I felt it. There was something in the air. Things were about to change. I believed in the power of positive thinking. Or maybe it was just because I refused to believe things could get any worse.

  Willa had said she wasn’t going to the party, which was totally like Willa, but on a whim I’d made Jenna swing by here, determined to persuade her otherwise. I wanted my best friend with me tonight.

  I started counting off on my fingers. “Jenna is going to bail on me to make out with someone. I bombed my math test. I know it. And Zach still hasn’t talked to me. Overall, it’s been a sucky day. You’re the girl I want at my back. Just like when we were in Mrs. Grossman’s class, remember?”

  I was pulling out the big guns mentioning Grossman.

  Our third-grade teacher never liked me. She didn’t even try to hide it. Mrs. Grossman preferred the smart kids. The quiet ones who never talked, who did their work and got straight As. That wasn’t me. I always talked and had trouble remembering to raise my hand.

  At recess she’d give me extra assignments to work on as punishment. While everyone was running around the playground and climbing the monkey bars, I sat on a bench by myself and struggled through math worksheets. One day I looked up and Willa was there.

  “Hey,” she greeted me, her shorter legs swinging off the side of the bench, her feet barely skimming the ground.

  “Hey,” I returned.

  I had never really talked to her before, but she sat with me and helped me with my work. She stuck by me on that faded purple bench, missing her recess for almost an entire year. Just to help me. Just so I wouldn’t be alone.

  “C’mon,” I pleaded. “I need to cut loose!”

  I needed this party. It would be the perfect way to get Zach alone. We could talk. I could try to explain that night to him. Maybe this time I would find the right words. I could convince him how sorry I was and that we belonged together.

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” Willa complained.

  “Aha!” I yanked a striped V-neck out of the closet. Willa had a nice rack even if she hid it in baggy tops. “This one.”

  She shook her head. “That hasn’t fit me since freshman year.”

  “Which is why it’s perfect. You can show off the girls.”

  She scowled at me from where she sat on her bed and crossed her arms. “I don’t like showing off the girls.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware. But I don’t think you want to go to a party in a stained T-shirt. C’mon, Willa.” I motioned wide with my arms. “Is this what you want? To spend your Friday night hanging out with your jaded divorcée sister who bitches about her life to anyone who will listen? You’re seventeen! Don’t go down that road.”

  She sighed and I knew I had her. Just in case, I decided to hammer the nail in deeper. “I am the one who just got dumped. I thought that automatically gets me my way for a month . . . six weeks at least.” Or until Zach and I got back together. “If that’s not a girl-code rule already, then it should be.”

  “Fine.” She swung her feet to the floor. “But we leave the party when I’m ready to go.” Willa exhaled as she yanked her T-shirt over her head and reached for the shirt I held.

  “Fine,” I agreed, loving her right then and feeling a small spurt of happiness. “Your curfew is midnight, so not a moment before eleven thirty.” I turned away before she could lodge a protest. “Meet you in the car!”

  Willa was going to a party with me. That hardly ever happened. She would be at my side just like all those years ago on the purple bench. Immediately I felt lighter inside.

  Maybe it was going to be a good night after all.

  GIRL CODE #5:

  Never knowingly wear an outfit another girl already owns.

  Willa

  THE party was out of control by the time we got there. Probably a bad omen.

  And yet here I was, getting tossed in a sea of bodies because Flor had begged me to come. Why did cutting loose for her have to involve loud music and a mob of kids under the influence of booze and other questionable substances? Cutting loose for me meant fuzzy pajamas, Chinese takeout, and reruns of The Vampire Diaries. Apparently that was me.

  Sharla Anderson was rushing from room to room with a panicked look on her face as she snatched up discarded cups and other trash.

  “That’s what she gets for inviting the football team.” Jenna tsked and shook her head. “You know how rowdy they can get. Especially after a win.”

  We were sitting upstairs in the massive game room, squished like sardines on a couch. Sharla’s house was as big as Flor’s, and even so it was wall-to-wall bodies.

  “Have you seen Flor?” I asked over the music, stretching my neck to
peer through the crowd. I’d lost sight of her half an hour ago. Something broke in the distance, and Sharla shrieked from the other side of the room.

  “Think I saw her heading to the media room,” Jenna said mildly, side-eyeing the couple making out next to her on the couch. “Zach is in there.”

  That made sense. I sent up a silent prayer that Zach wouldn’t dive behind the furniture when he saw her coming, and that Flor wouldn’t turn into some crazy stalker ex and dive after him.

  I squeezed out from the couch and started toward the media room, hoping to save both my friends from each other. That’s what I did. Or tried to do, anyway. When I was in preschool the teachers called me Mama Munchkin because I was constantly trying to resolve the quarrels of the other children. I guess some things never changed. I was still Mama Munchkin trying to keep the peace and make everyone happy.

  “Want to come?” I looked back at Jenna.

  She was staring across the room. I followed her gaze to where a girl stood, staring back at her. I vaguely recognized the girl from somewhere. Maybe her locker was near mine? That was the thing about attending a 6A school. It was so huge you couldn’t possibly know everyone.

  Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen the girl before. I moved closer to Jenna. “Isn’t that the girl you—”

  “Yeah. Abby Morton,” she was quick to reply, her tone a touch defensive. “It was a dare. At Parker’s pool party over the summer.”

  I considered Abby for a moment, watching the blush steal its way beneath her makeup as she gazed at Jenna. There wasn’t a lot of blushing going on at this party. It was kind of sweet. “You know it’s okay,” I said.

  “What’s okay?”

  “If you like her.”

  Jenna looked at me for a long moment, opening and closing her mouth a few times before finally saying, “I’m not gay, Willa.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged, not wanting to push.

  “I made out with her because it was a dare. And Hayden told me he thought it would be hot. We don’t even need to go over how stupid in love with him I am.”

  I winced. Hayden Manchester was the star quarterback and worshiped accordingly by the denizens of Madison High School—​especially the females. He was also a giant dick, treating girls like they existed for his entertainment and pleasure alone. He cared for no one more than himself. Flor and I were waiting for the day that Jenna woke up to that.

  “And it wouldn’t be okay,” Jenna added. “Not with my parents.” She snorted. “My dad makes gay jokes in front of anyone. Can you imagine if I . . .” Her voice faded and she just continued to shake her head, a look of fear crossing her face.

  I sighed because she was right about that. Jenna’s parents were judgy bigots who controlled every aspect of Jenna’s life. Or they tried to, anyway. Honestly, if they didn’t approve of me or Flor, they wouldn’t let Jenna hang around us.

  My parents had never been that controlling, but they used to be strict. Before my dad got laid off and he had to take a job four hours away. Now he was only home on weekends, and then he and Mom were too busy arguing over bills and what to do about my mess of a sister and her daughter to worry much about anything else. Still. It was a good reminder that despite my parents’ flaws, it could be worse: they could be closed-minded too. There was comfort in knowing they weren’t. I knew they would support me no matter who I dated—​regardless of gender.

  “But speaking of okay . . .” Jenna stood and made a show of checking out a group of thick-necked football players. “Trevor Webber is looking very okay tonight.”

  I watched as she made a beeline for a football player. I winced at her choice. Webber wasn’t the brightest bulb, but at least he didn’t treat girls like meat, so that was an improvement over Hayden at least.

  She slid her arm around Trevor’s massive shoulder and pressed against him. Maybe I was wrong and she was into Webber after all.

  Or maybe I was right. And that made me sad. Too many of us pretending.

  Including me.

  I headed for the media room. I had friends to save.

  I finally tracked Flor down. The room had stadium-style seating and she was standing on the upper tier, friends on either side of her. They were laughing and talking, but she was the only one who didn’t seem to be having a good time. Her stare was fixed with searing intensity on the room’s bottom level. I followed her gaze and spotted a familiar form. Zach. He was lounging on a bench with several others. They were staring down at something on the floor. I couldn’t see what because several more bodies were standing around the circle, blocking my view.

  I reached Flor’s side.

  “Can you believe it?” She nodded at the group. “They’re playing spin-the-bottle like it’s fucking middle school.” Her dark eyes shot fire. “Oh, and you’ll never guess who suggested it.”

  I glanced back and assessed the dozen faces around the bottle, immediately marking Ava among them. I let out a breath.

  Flor heard my sigh. “That’s right. Ava. Some friend.” She lifted her Solo cup and took a swig from it. “And look what she’s wearing.”

  I looked the girl over. “Is that your sweater?”

  “No! But she went out and bought the same one. The nerve, right? I wore that last week. Right before Zach dumped me.”

  Wearing the same sweater seemed a small infraction, but I didn’t voice that. Just like there was no sense pointing out how Ava had scooted close to the bench and was leaning her head on Zach’s thigh from her position on the floor. The pose made them look very couple-like.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean—” I didn’t finish my sentence.

  Flor grabbed my hand and pulled me down the steps, closer to the bottle-spinning crowd. More people were gathering to watch, the promise of a spectacle too tempting. Flor stopped once we could actually see the bottle within the middle of the crowd.

  Zach’s gaze collided with mine. I gave him a what the hell are you doing? look. He shrugged imperceptibly, his storm-gray eyes steady as he stared back at me. That was the thing about Zach. He had these eyes that were wise and thoughtful. Almost like they belonged to someone much older. Even when we were six years old they had been like that. So self-assured and confident. Other guys had glazed and vacant eyes from video games or too much beer or hours of ESPN. Not him. Whenever I looked into his eyes I felt . . . I don’t know. Understood, I guess. It was easy to feel lost and invisible in life, but I never felt that way around him.

  I didn’t let those eyes placate me now, however. I very pointedly swerved my gaze to Flor, trying to convey that this was a bad idea, and yet he didn’t glance at her.

  What was wrong with him? She was unmissable with her Angelina Jolie lips and all that dark hair rolling like black waves over her shoulders. Every guy in the house was checking her out, but Zach was immune. It was crazy. I should have been offended for her, not feeling this secret relief.

  I was a horrible friend, and it only made me more determined to get them back together. To prove that I wasn’t this awful. That I was a good person.

  Cheers went up as a girl leaned forward and spun the bottle. I held my breath. Around and around it went until I grew dizzy from watching it so closely.

  Please don’t. Please don’t.

  It stopped.

  Right on Ava.

  She slapped both hands to her cheeks as though shocked that such a thing could happen. Imagine that. She was playing spin-the-bottle and the bottle landed on her.

  The girl who spun the bottle rubbed her hands together and declared with relish, “I dare Ava to go in the closet for ten minutes with . . .” She let the pause hang, attempting to build suspense. It was unnecessary. And annoying. Everyone knew the name she was going to say before she said it. “Zach!”

  Of course.

  One of Zach’s friends clapped him on the shoulder like he had just scored a winning touchdown.

  Shaking his head and laughing, Zach got to his feet and headed to the closet over loud catcalls.

&
nbsp; “No,” Flor growled. “Oh, she better not.”

  Almost as though she had heard her, Ava’s gaze darted to Flor. A stare-off commenced. For a moment Ava looked uncertain. I willed her not to do it. To stay sitting on that floor. Don’t get up. Don’t get up.

  Everyone in the group kept pushing her to join Zach. Finally she broke the stare-off and got to her feet, turning toward the closet.

  And there it was: friendship 0, hormones 1.

  “I’m out of here.” Flor pushed through the crowded media room.

  I hovered there for a moment, unsure what to do. Go after Flor, stop Ava, or strangle Zach?

  With a sigh of disgust, I stalked after Ava. For some reason, it seemed the easiest choice. Flor and Zach . . . they were harder.

  I caught her just before she was about to enter the closet, grabbing her hand. “Ava. What are you doing? Stop this. You can’t do this to Flor.”

  Guilt flashed across her eyes. I knew about guilt. Recognized it when I saw it. “Come on, Willa.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re not together anymore. Why is everyone acting like I killed a puppy?”

  “She isn’t over him and you know it. You saw how crushed she was when they broke up.”

  “If it’s not me, it will be some other girl,” she defended.

  “Then let it be some other girl,” I shot back. “You’re supposed to be her friend. Hook up with someone else.” I shrugged. “Not Zach.”

  Ava bit her lip and cast an uncertain look to the dark closet where Zach waited. She had never been that confident of her popularity, and her place in the social hierarchy at Madison mattered to her. Considering Flor was pretty high up the pyramid, she was clearly rethinking her next move.

  I latched on to that insecurity. “If you go into that closet, you’re dead to Flor. If you don’t, no worries. All is well.”

  That did the trick—​and it wasn’t untrue. Still . . . saying it made me feel like the popular mean girl threatening social annihilation in some lame teen movie. I wasn’t remotely like that girl. For God’s sake, I played the cello in the orchestra. Most of the time when I was out with Flor or Zach, no one even knew my name. I was just a vaguely familiar girl.