by Ally B
“Do you think pink glitter would be too much with the dress?” Violet asks as I blend my concealer into my skin.
“Yes,” Kendall answers for me. “It’s homecoming, Vi, not Euphoria.”
“But when else do I have an excuse to use all of this shit?” She gestures to the mess of eyeshadows and glitters covering the counter.
“Go for it, Vi,” I tell her. “Have fun.”
Kendall runs her curling iron over my already-straightened hair. “Trust me,” she says, and I’m too busy being careful with the black liquid eyeliner to object.
We finally finish getting ready at 6:45, which is just enough time for Violet to run up and down her stairs, having forgotten everything she needs at least twice.
“We aren’t late. Everybody else is just early,” Vi says to herself as she pulls into Jackson’s driveway, parking horribly.
“No one is going to be mad, Vi,” Kendall sighs as we get out of the car.
Violet swings open the front door in a mad rush, earning stares from everyone standing around the kitchen island leaning over a pizza box.
“Nice of you guys to make an appearance.” Tommy jokes, wrapping an arm around Kendall’s waist as we approach the island.
“Well, if it isn’t ghetto Cinderella, wannabe Gigi Hadid, and stripper Barbie!” Gabby’s voice rings through the room.
Jackson doubles over, covering his mouth to keep from laughing, and Tommy sucks in his lips.
“And if it isn’t Sabrina the Teenage Bitch,” Violet fires back, referring to her all-black look, topped off with a choker.
That one earns unrestricted laughs from everyone.
“You guys look cute, though,” Gabby smiles genuinely.
“I’m so sorry,” Ava whispers to me. “I couldn’t just ditch her.”
“That honestly made my night.” I joke.
Everyone except Riley, Violet, and I eat pizza for a while. It’s seven-fifteen before I even realize Graham isn’t there.
“Let’s just do pictures.” I shrug when Violet asks. “Riley Black, will you be my Instagram homecoming date?”
“I’d be honored.” He jokes as we all walk into the backyard.
“You look great,” Max tells me with a smile as we take our yearly pictures.
“Thanks, you too.”
Jackson’s parents take a million group photos before we split up into couples and smaller groups. Graham’s black Jeep pulls in at seven-thirty as we’re all getting into our cars.
“Why don’t you ride with him?” I ask Gabby.
“Really?” I swear I see excitement in her eyes.
“Yeah. I’ll ride with Jackson?” I turn to him, and he nods.
“Thanks,” she whispers before climbing into the passenger seat of his Jeep.
“What’s that about?” Riley asks as I slide into Jackson’s backseat next to him.
“She’s definitely not trying to push him off on someone else, so she doesn’t hurt his feelings. That would just be weird,” Violet chimes in.
“Definitely,” I add.
“I’m stealing you,” I tell Riley as we walk in.
“I’ll be your fake date any day.” He smiles.
“How are you single?” Vi asks him. “You’re so sweet.”
“I believe your exact words were five-year-old in Shrek’s body?” He asks, earning a laugh from Jackson.
“Oh, shush, you know I love you.” Vi playfully slaps his arm. “You’re an all-star. But just remember, the years start coming, and they don’t stop coming,” she says with fake sincerity, clearly trying her hardest not to laugh as she quotes the Smash Mouth song featured in the movie.
“Jackson, I’m not going to call her an asshole because I respect you. I have no respect for her.” Riley jokes.
I pull money out of my wallet as we reach the table next to the door, but Graham appears out of nowhere, pressing a ticket into my hand. “She’s good,” he tells the woman, who just scowls at him.
I manage to stick with Riley, Violet, and Jackson for the first hour of the dance, avoiding running into Max and Ava again, which would inevitably be adding to my therapy bill.
The school gym is hastily decorated with paper lanterns and Christmas lights. Everyone is in one little huddle or another, sticking to their friend-groups for the most part. The only time there’s any sort of order is when the Cupid Shuffle comes on, and everyone forms a series of messy lines, but other than that, it’s a mess of sweat and too much Axe spray.
“You want to dance?” Graham asks me as a stupid slow country song begins to play over the speakers, a hush overtaking the crowded room.
“Riley and I are going to—” But when I turn back to point at him, he’s gone. So much for a fake date.
He wraps his arms around my waist, and I reluctantly wrap mine around his neck, moving side to side to the beat of the slow song.
“I know I fucked up,” he says after an extremely long period of painful silence. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say shortly. “That’s just kind of a big deal to me.”
“You should’ve told me that.”
“I shouldn’t have had to ever tell anyone that sad story.” I remember what Violet told me, trying to convince both Graham and myself at the same time.
He nods.
“Shouldn’t you be dancing with Gabby? You two clearly have a thing.”
“I’m your date. We’re supposed to dance to slow songs.”
“But that’s the beauty of a fake date.” I refer to Riley.
“But your fake date is nowhere to be found, so we’re going to dance for the rest of this great song, and then you can get back to doing whatever fake-dates do.” He rolls his eyes.
“Please tell me that great was sarcastic.”
“What do you mean? This is a really good song.”
“You like country music?” I nearly yell.
“Yeah? I’m from the South, it’s kind of a thing,” he scoffs.
I shake my head. “Gabby likes it too. There’s a concert venue like half an hour away, and it feels like they only ever have country bands.” And that’s when I see Max. Ava’s head is on his shoulder, but he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at me.
It’s weird to see him dressed up. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it like some guys do, but it’s usually just jeans and a hoodie or sweats.
That one curl on top of his head is sticking straight up again, and I nearly laugh at the sight of it. Nice dress pants, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and one single brown curl shooting up above the others.
“Phoebe?” Graham asks over the music.
“Yeah?”
“Have you and Max dated?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “We’ve been best friends since we were little, it would just be weird.”
“Aren’t you supposed to marry your best friend, or whatever?”
“I’m getting married?” I jokingly ask.
“You know what I mean.” He sighs.
“It would just be weird.” I shake my head, staring at that one stupid curl.
“And this isn’t?” He asks. “Whatever we were wasn’t weird?”
“Well yeah, of course,” I answer. “But that’s just how relationships are. It’s normal.”
“And that’s your only argument against you and Max?” He asks as the song ends, but before I can answer, he’s disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to think about what he just said, while watching Max, watch me, as he dances with her to yet another slow song.
The rest of the dance I spend in my head while I plaster a fake smile on my face, and by the time near the end, I realize I’d never be able to date Max. He’s my best friend, and that kind of thing lasts forever. In my experience, high school relationships are good for about two weeks. Max means more to me than that. Much more.
The exception to that rule, Tommy and Kendall, are on stage being crowned King and Queen with cheap plastic crowns, which is no surprise. It would’ve been weird for
anyone else to win.
Lupus
The Wolf
“Is Graham coming?” Vi asks as Jackson pulls out of the school parking lot.
“Not unless Gabby is,” I tell her.
“I’m pretty sure she’s not.” Riley chimes in.
“Well if Ava’s coming then—”
Riley cuts me off. “She’s not.”
Jackson and I exchange a glance through his rearview mirror.
“Well, did Max ride with her? His car kinda got totaled.” Jackson asks.
“He rode with Tommy.” Riley clarifies. “We both did.”
“Why isn’t Ava coming?”
“Max was pissed about something earlier. Said something about her before he walked away.”
“Pheebs you wanna—”
“Already on it.” I cut Jackson off, sending him a message.
Max
Is everything all right with Ava? - Phoebe
She wants to keep things casual. - Max
“She wants to keep things casual,” I read the message to them.
Jackson shakes his head. “He doesn’t do casual.”
Max
And you’re okay with that? - Phoebe
No. - Max
“That sucks.” Riley shakes his head as we pull into Jackson’s driveway. Tommy’s car is already there, parked in Jackson’s spot.
“I’m going to kill him,” Jackson mutters as he gets out of the car.
When we walk into the backyard, Kendall, Tommy, and Max are already changed into sweats and gathered around the fire pit with drinks in hand.
“When did you get here?” Jackson shouts across the pool.
“Your mom let us in like fifteen minutes ago. She says goodnight, by the way.” Tommy grins.
With my backpack from Vi’s car slung over my shoulder, I hurry to go change into one of Jack’s old Emerson soccer T-shirts and a pair of black leggings with socks and Birkenstocks, knowing Violet will be pissed at the fashion choice, and finding it amusing.
I beat both Violet and the boys to the fire pit, sitting down next to Max.
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly as Kendall and Tommy have their own conversation.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Just over it, ya know?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Did you at least have fun tonight?”
“Should’ve gone alone and beat Violet.” He takes a swig from his beer bottle, and I can’t help but cringe. “You want a drink?” He jokes.
“I’m good.” I shake my head. “How’s your foot?”
“My armpits hurt worse than my foot.” He confesses. “Being on those stupid crutches for three hours was a pain in the ass.”
“Are you supposed to be drinking with your meds?”
“Bottle says yes.” He points to me. “I read the label. Top three of our class, remember?”
“Point-zero-three percent smarter than you, remember?” I shoot back. “Gotta ask the important questions, so your little tiny brain doesn’t have to worry about it.” I flip the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, and he tightens the strings until only his eyes and nose are visible.
“That’s a good look on you,” I tell him.
“I know.” He winks.
Violet and Jackson come out of the house with their arms full, Riley closing the door behind them.
“His mom bought marshmallows.” Vi sticks out her bottom lip before sitting down on the other end of the outdoor sofa sectional, with Jackson next to her and Riley between Jackson and Tommy.
Metal sticks with marshmallows on their end get passed down by Vi before I can even object.
Max sticks his directly into the flames as soon as he gets it, pulling it out when it catches fire.
Violet groans at the sight of the black marshmallow. “Here.” She holds up another one, about to throw it to him.
“No.” I stop her. “That’s how he likes them.”
“That’s weird, man.” Tommy shakes his head.
“It’s good,” he says, peeling the charred layer off of the marshmallow with his fingers and popping it into his mouth.
I do the same thing to my marshmallow, and Riley narrows his eyes. “I’m taking back my fake date card. That’s just wrong.”
“You really can’t knock it until you try it,” Max defends, sticking what remains of his gooey white marshmallow back into the flames while the others toast theirs to a perfect golden brown.
“We should go camping,” Violet suggests.
“Bugs. Sleeping in a tent. No electricity. No plumbing.” Kendall lists all the reasons she knows Violet would have a problem with camping.
“I take it back. We can camp in Jackson’s backyard.”
“Cabins are cool,” Riley suggests, and just like that, they begin to plan a camping trip to some cabin in the mountains that Riley’s family had visited a long time ago, but Max and I just burn our marshmallows.
I stare up at the sky for a little while I wait for my marshmallows to burn. It’s mostly clear tonight, but clouds cover most of Ursa Major and Minor. I can’t help but feel a little grateful that I can’t see them.
I cross my arms over my chest as the cold wind whips against my arms.
“What are you looking at?” Max asks.
“Orion.” I lie, quickly locating the constellation.
“My favorite,” he says simply.
“Mhmm.”
“You really need to learn how to dress for the weather. You’re almost as bad as Vi,” he says, pulling off the flannel he’s wearing over his hoodie and draping it over my shoulders.
“Why would I when you always wear four million layers?”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to wear four million layers if you learned not to wear T-shirts when it’s forty-five out.”
“Oh shush.” I pull on the flannel, rolling the sleeves until I can actually see my fingertips in the oversized shirt.
He stares up at the sky for a few minutes.
“Are you two high?” Tommy asks. “What the hell are you doing.”
“Making a wish.” We say at the same time.
“Okay, conjuring twins.” Violet rolls her eyes before chucking a marshmallow at Max, which he catches with ease.
Riley’s phone screen illuminates his face. “My mom’s here,” he speaks up, “do you guys need a ride?” He looks to Max and me.
“Yeah,” Max answers for us, standing up and grabbing my hand, pulling me up behind him.
“It’s only midnight,” Violet whines.
“Some of us don’t like to be asleep until noon.” I nearly laugh at Max’s defense.
“See? Even Pheebs knows that’s bullshit coming from you.” Tommy butts in.
“I’ll see you guys Monday,” Riley says.
“Me too,” Max adds.
“Love you guys., I say as I follow them.
A chorus of ‘love you toos,’ and ‘byes’ comes from the four of them as Max and I follow Riley to his mom’s minivan.
“Hey, guys.” She smiles.
“Thank you so much for the ride Mrs. Black,” I say.
“Any time,” she says, pulling out of Jackson’s driveway toward our houses.
“You guys are east side, right?” She asks.
Riley’s family lives in McArthur territory on the west side, but his dad’s job as a Geometry teacher keeps him and his sister at Emerson.
“Yeah,” Max answers. “Smith Street.”
“Got it.” She smiles.
“This driveway.” I point to Max’s house.
“All righty.” She turns into the driveway, turning around, so Max’s side of the car is closer to the door.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Black,” I say.
“Yeah, thank you.”
“Any time you need anything, kids.” Her smiling face is illuminated as Max opens the car door.
I make sure Max makes it to his front door without falling on the dew-covered grass before turning back toward my house.
“Phoebe?” He calls.
“Yeah?” I whip around, hoping to myself that he didn’t fall.
He’s merely a silhouette in his front door, the moonlight isn’t bright enough for me to see any part of his face, but somehow that one curl is sticking up again, and I can see it as if he were right in front of me.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head.
“Get some sleep,” I demand. “Then maybe you’ll actually be able to finish a sentence.”
“Love you.” He shouts as I walk toward my house.
“Love you, too!”
Inside my phone rings and I answer, “Mom?”
“I saw you were home. How was the dance?”
“Good,” I say as I lock the door, before making my way upstairs.
“Phoebe,” she whispers.
And I feel panic rising in my chest, “Is everything okay?”
“Your Dad called, and I—”
“Please don’t tell me to forgive him. Don’t tell me he’s sick. Don’t—”
“I won’t, honey.”
“Every shrink you’ve ever sent me to, besides Hines has.”
“I didn’t realize you felt like you had to. I thought I’d given you a million excuses to walk away. Jack did, and so did I. I don’t know how it is you felt responsible—”
I interrupt her because, as I now know, I’d taken that upon myself because of all the bad therapists, “It’s not your fault. I’m okay, really. I’m just done.”
“I’m glad, Phoebe.” She sighs in relief. “One last thing?”
“I’m proud of you.”
Lying in bed, head spinning, with everything from Dad, to Graham, and what Violet said about Max, I stare at the ceiling and count.
137.
Four times.
Cygnus
The Swan
I’m woken up by my phone ringing.
I somehow manage to answer the call, pressing my phone to my ear.
“Phoebe?” Kat shouts through the phone.
I quickly pull it away from my ear and put it on speaker, setting my phone down on my nightstand. “What’s up?” I ask her groggily.
“I don’t know how but I messed up the projector! AndweopeninlikefivesecondsandIdon’tknowhowtofixit.” She takes a deep breath and finishes. “And grandpa’s at church, and I have no clue what to do.”
