The Me I Meant to Be

by Sophie Jordan

  “I like roasted veggies,” I defended. “Plus, I can’t eat like you. I don’t run up and down a soccer field every day.”

  Flor sniffed and shrugged. “You could run with me. Or Jenna.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Or not.” We ate for a few moments in silence before I asked, “So how’s your dad’s girlfriend?” It seemed a safer topic than bringing up the phone call from her mom. I knew it had hurt her.

  Flor made a face. “Yeah. Let’s not talk about that.”

  Apparently the subject of Dana was little better.

  “That bad?”

  “Well, it’s not like I get to ever see my dad without her there too.”

  I nodded. “Maybe . . . she’s all right? Once you get to know her?”

  She cut me a swift look at the suggestion. Lifting her straw to her mouth, she took a swallow as she leveled me an Are you kidding me? look. “You’re such an optimist. It’s like you think we’re going to have one of those movie moments that makes everything all right.”

  “Sometimes that can happen in real life.”

  “Really?”

  I peeled back more foil off my burrito. “Well, if not, at least you’ll have her wardrobe to raid.”

  She chuckled. “And that’s why I love you. You always see the silver lining.” She unraveled more of her burrito and continued to chomp away.

  “What about your sister? She looking for a job yet?”

  I snorted. “Um. No.”

  “She’s got a degree, right? Can’t she work?”

  “Oh, she could.” I yanked a section of tin foil off my burrito.

  “Well, your mom needs to boot her from the nest.”

  “Mom said she’s been through a trauma and we need to be patient and supportive.”

  Flor shook her head. “She’s been with y’all for almost . . . how long now? Eight? Ten months? Is she ever going to move out?”

  I shrugged. “Dunno.” Another subject I didn’t push with Mom. As much as I wanted Chloe gone, what would happen to Mia if I wasn’t around? Or Mom? Chloe needed us right now. Mom was right about that.

  Our phones dinged almost simultaneously. I glanced down at mine on the bench between us and read the text. “Jenna wants us to come over.”

  Flor finished the last bite of her burrito. “Are her parents home?”

  “You know it. That’s probably why she wants us to come over. To act as a buffer for her.”

  “I guess we should go.” She sighed.

  It wasn’t Jenna’s fault her parents were generally miserable to be around. You couldn’t hang out at her house without having to deliver a state-of-the-union address on your life. They wanted to know about your family, your grades, your college plans, and if you’d been to church the previous Sunday.

  We wadded up our tin foil into balls and stuffed them in the brown paper bag.

  “C’mon.” Flor got to her feet and extended a hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go save Jenna. Just think. Next year we’ll all be at college, and then we can be who we want to be.”

  I thought about that as we walked toward the parking lot, and how being who we wanted to be . . . who we were . . . shouldn’t be so hard.

  GIRL CODE #16:

  If you see a girl acting awkward with a guy, don’t make fun. We’ve all been there.

  Flor

  I got to school early on Friday to meet with the trainer. My hamstring was tight and bothering me lately, so she worked on it for me until it felt better. Looser. Hopefully I wouldn’t injure myself. That was the last thing I needed.

  Excitement buzzed in the air as I exited the athletic wing and crossed the courtyard. It was game day. Bright signs hung everywhere, and everyone was decked out in school colors. Not that there were too many people milling the halls yet. I walked past a hall clock: still fifteen minutes until first period. Another five minutes and the place would be hopping.

  A door slammed. I glanced down the hall and spotted Grayson stepping out of a classroom. He was in a dark gray shirt. Of course he wasn’t in school colors. Idly, I wondered if he even knew it was a game day. Although with banners everywhere, it would be hard not to know.

  “Hey,” I called. “You’re here early.”

  He turned as I approached. At first the overhead lighting reflected off his glasses and I couldn’t see his eyes. As I drew closer, they became more visible . . . the dark depths fastened on me.

  “I’m always here before school starts. Physics tutorials.”

  “Oh.” I glanced at the door from which he’d emerged. I didn’t know the teacher, but if this was a physics classroom, that would explain why. I wasn’t in physics. That was for honors students. “She helps you in the mornings?”

  He hesitated and then replied, “No, I help her with tutorials.”

  “Oh. Of course you do.” For a moment I’d forgotten I was talking to him. “It must be nice.”

  “What is?”

  “To be so smart.” It would certainly help with some of my problems.

  He angled his head slightly. “You think it’s easy?”

  A pair of cheerleaders walked past us, carrying a rolled-up banner I guessed was for the pep rally later. “Hey, Flor.” They eyed Grayson speculatively. I wanted to think it was because I was talking to him, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. I didn’t view him the same way I once had. He had his own appeal.

  As they moved on, I answered him, “Not everyone can do what you do.”

  “Sounds like an excuse.”

  I fumed. Why did this always happen? I wasn’t trying to offend him. I was actually trying to be nice. Shaking my head, I walked around him. “See you Sunday.”

  A moment passed and then I heard, “Flor, wait.” He caught up with me. I didn’t slow down. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

  “Weren’t you? I was calling you smart. You could just say thank you.”

  “Yeah, well, you keep doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Talking about how smart I am.”

  I shook my head. “So?” Why would that be offensive? He’d pretty much implied I was lazy. That seemed much more insulting.

  “Because I’m more than that,” he snapped.

  I stopped and faced him. Obviously he was more than that. He’d told me about his home life. I knew everything he had to overcome. “I know that.” I shifted the strap of my backpack over my shoulder. “Why do you care so much what I think about you anyway?” Our relationship was professional.

  “I don’t.” He blinked. “Why do you?”

  “I don’t,” I echoed, even as I saw myself storming away from him because he’d implied I was too lazy to be smart. We were lying to each other and we both knew it.

  Looking at him, all at once I didn’t know what I was doing or what this was about anymore. With him everything was always confusing and awkward.

  Suddenly the bell rang, signaling we had five minutes to get to class. I hadn’t even noticed that the halls had started to fill up.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said. Without waiting for his response, I turned and headed to class.

  GIRL CODE #17:

  Slut-shaming and tearing another girl down hurts all of us.

  Willa

  FRIDAY arrived. AKA game day. It was like a carnival. The school was decked out in banners and posters heavy on the alliteration. Tromp Travis. Take Down Travis. Mop the Mustangs. The mascot ran up and down the halls at various points during the day. It was like one nonstop pep rally. That was Madison for you . . . and Texas football.

  After school, I found Chloe in her room, the shades pulled, lost in a dead sleep that was likely drug or alcohol induced. Again. I lifted her wrist off the bed and checked her pulse just to make sure she was breathing.

  Mia called for me in happy shrieks from her crib against the wall. If earsplitting screeching didn’t wake up Chloe, nothing would. I shook my head in disgust. Mia might as well have been alone. I picked her up, balancing her sweet, solid weight on my hip. I took her to
my room and played with her for a while. Then I took her downstairs and fed her. After a dinner of SpaghettiOs and peaches, I plopped her in the bathtub and washed her, getting all the food out of her strawberry-blond curls.

  I rubbed her dry with a towel, carrying on a conversation with her like she wasn’t only eighteen months old and could understand everything I was saying.

  “The thing is, I’m not even looking forward to this party. Why am I doing this to myself? I mean, what am I trying to prove? So maybe I should stay here with you. We can stay up late and watch Moana.” I pulled her nightgown over her head. “For like the five hundredth time?”

  She perked up as her head popped through the neck hole. “Moana!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. A yawn quickly followed. I knew it was probably bad parenting—​or aunting—​but I pulled out the foldout couch in the upstairs game room and settled her in the middle of the bed. I just couldn’t bring myself to stick her back in the crib in my sister’s room. I turned on the television and started Moana for her. She settled in happily, fixing heavy-lidded eyes on the TV screen.

  The door downstairs slammed. “Hello! I’m home,” Mom called.

  “Up here. Just putting on a movie for Mia,” I shouted back, tucking a blanket around her and then hurrying into my room. I didn’t have a lot of time to get ready for the party. The evenings had gotten a little cooler, and I could have worn my typical sweatshirt and jeans, but something made me choose differently. I went with a skirt and a loose, off-the-shoulder blouse. Knee-high boots that used to belong to Chloe. I got all her size seven shoes. After her pregnancy her feet grew and she wore a size eight now.

  I didn’t examine what it was I was doing. I just felt compelled to look my best. Believing that I did would make me feel better as I watched Zach and Ashlyn flirt, and that mattered. It mattered a lot.

  I only had time to touch up my makeup and run a brush through my hair. I’d made an effort with it that morning, actually drying it and flat-ironing it, so it still looked decent.

  Flor texted me when they were outside. I shoved my phone in my pocket, checked on Mia, now fast asleep with the light from the TV casting dancing shadows on her sweet face, and launched myself downstairs.

  “Whoa there, hold up. Where are you going looking so fancy tonight?” Mom eyed me up and down.

  I stopped at the base of the stairs and stifled the impulse to roll my eyes. Lately, Mom had been too busy to even check on my comings and goings. But Dad wasn’t home this weekend, plus Chloe and Mia were passed out upstairs—​I guess she had a little extra time to grill me.

  “I’m going out to a party. Tonight was the big game against Travis. We won.” I knew that because Farah had texted that information when she’d texted to say they would be here in thirty minutes.

  Almost on cue, a car honked from the driveway.

  “That’s it? No asking me if you can even go to this party? No telling me who you’re going with?”

  I just stared at her. Was she kidding me? Lately she’d been so caught up in the Chloe drama and not having Dad around and having to put in so many hours at work. I didn’t even think she cared.

  Swallowing down the impulse to tell her what I was thinking (which would only lead to a fight), I asked, “Can I go to the party, Mom? I’ll be with Flor, Farah, and Ava.” My usual friends. Why was she suddenly going all parental on me?

  She took her time staring at me, making me wait for her answer.

  Farah honked the horn from outside again.

  “I guess so,” she finally said, but it was grudging, and that made me grind my teeth. What did she have to be so grudging about? Honestly. She worked and worked while I went to school and then came home to take care of my sister’s neglected daughter.

  Did she really mind me going to one measly party?

  I held it in, though.

  “Be home by midnight.” She gave me a sharp look like I chronically broke curfew or something.

  I nodded and muttered thanks, then reminded her that Mia was asleep on the foldout before I plunged out of the house.

  “Wow! You look hot, girl!” Flor shouted as she hung out the window. As far as cheering me up and making me forget about Mom, it worked.

  I giggled as I slid into the back seat of Farah’s mom’s SUV.

  “Yeah!” Jenna chirped from the front seat. Apparently, her brother had gotten into trouble as predicted and taken the heat off her—​she clearly wasn’t grounded anymore. “I’d totally do you.” We all erupted into gales of laughter.

  It took almost forty minutes to get out to Kennedy’s lake house, and the party was in full swing by the time we got there.

  Part of the reason tonight’s game had been such a big one was that Travis happened to be the high school closest in proximity to ours. We were rivals, but also friendly enough to go to a lot of the same parties. I immediately knew that it was going to be one of those parties by the number of vehicles in the yard with Travis slogans written on the windows in shoe polish.

  “Oh goody.” Jenna rubbed her hands together with glee. “Beau Sanders will probably be here.”

  Beau Sanders. A name that was known all over town. He was the Travis High School quarterback and undeniably beautiful. I’d never met him, but I’d seen his photo blasted all over Instagram and in the local news.

  Even though Madison had beaten Travis 21 to 18 tonight, spirits were high when we entered the house. Students from both schools mingled.

  Jenna stood on her tiptoes and attempted to peer through the main room. “I’m going to go find me some Beau Sanders.”

  Flor rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to wade through his fan club to even get to him. Especially after tonight’s game. He scored two touchdowns, and scouts were there.”

  Jenna pointed at her. “If you were with me, I bet he’d take notice. Hell, we should all go. We’re hotter than all these girls.” Jenna grabbed Flor’s hand and led her through the house, craning her neck so that she could assess as they walked.

  Farah shrugged and followed.

  “I’m going to find the keg,” Ava said.

  “Want me to come with you?” I said, lifting my voice over the din.

  She gestured for me to continue without her. “Go on. I’ll find you.”

  Nodding, I plunged back into the crowd, trying to catch up with Flor, Farah, and Jenna. I couldn’t catch sight of them. The house was packed, and they were somewhere far ahead of me. It took me forever just to make it halfway through the main room.

  The house was open concept, with a large upper balcony that wrapped around the living room. Looking up, I could see people standing on the second floor. A few were familiar. And then I spotted Zach. I almost wished I hadn’t seen him. My goal tonight was to come here and try to have fun. Not stalk Zach. But there he was and there she was. Ashlyn was plastered to his side.

  I quickly looked away before he could see me looking at them, and I resumed my hunt for my friends. I barely managed five feet.

  This was exactly what I hated. Wading through a party packed with bodies, alone, my friends lost somewhere in the house and I couldn’t find them.

  Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I felt Zach’s gaze on me from above.

  I snuck another glance up at the second floor. The scene was the same. Zach surrounded by Ashlyn and several other people, all laughing and talking. Except Zach’s attention was on me. He lifted a red Solo cup to his mouth, smiling as all the others were laughing, but his gaze didn’t stray from me.

  I tossed my hair back off my shoulders, feeling at least better knowing I looked my best. I didn’t have to be self-conscious because I wasn’t dressed well. I was wearing makeup and having a decent hair day too.

  Tendrils of loose hair danced over my shoulder as I squeezed past overly warm bodies, searching for a friend—​any familiar face, really.

  Another quick glance revealed Ashlyn standing on her tiptoes to say something into Zach’s ear. She spread one red-nailed hand over his stomach
and then slid it down until she curled her fingers around the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer to her.

  I smacked into a body. I wasn’t moving fast, so it wasn’t too jarring, but the body was hard. A veritable mountain. I practically bounced off him.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” The guy turned to glare down at me. His forehead was broad, jutting over a thick unibrow.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I muttered. “I mean, what was I thinking bumping into you in a house crowded with three hundred people?”

  Someone chuckled low and deep near my ear. I whipped around and gasped a little. Another guy was standing there. Right next to me, which was really the only way anyone could stand in this party—​pressed right up on each other. Except this guy was not sporting a unibrow. He was hot. And smelled good. And was vaguely familiar.

  “Hi, there.” He smiled down at me as he lifted a cup to his lips, his eyes sweeping over me as he took a slow drink. Lowering the drink, he announced, “You’re funny.”

  I smiled weakly, feeling a little dazzled by that smile. “At times.”

  He chuckled again.

  “Oh, hey, Beau,” Unibrow greeted him, holding out a hand for a fist bump.

  And now I knew why he was familiar.

  He was Beau Sanders, the very guy Jenna was on a quest to find at this party.

  Beau gave him his fist bump without taking his eyes off me. It was disconcerting to have myself under the scrutiny of a strange guy this good-looking. The only hot guy who looked at me with any level of interest was Zach. And right now a girl was upstairs happily pawing him. Not that I was angry about that. He was free to do what he wanted and with whomever.

  At the thought of Zach I looked up to the second floor again.

  He was still watching, but now his gaze skipped between Beau and me. His body was fully turned, one hand braced on the railing as he looked down at the first floor.

  “Did she hurt you, Mac?” Beau asked, his lips twitching as he surveyed me up and down again. “I mean what is she? A buck twenty?”