Solstice

by Lorence Alison

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, pushing her back so I could breathe. “Slow down! What’s happening?”

  There were spots of pink on Elena’s cheeks. She pushed a piece of butterscotch-blond hair over her shoulder and blinked her wide, lash-extensioned, sapphire-blue eyes. Elena was pretty. Like almost I hate you pretty … though I never got girls who hated other girls because they were good-looking. It struck me as a waste of energy—and besides, Elena’s sweetness and humor and loyalty mattered more than her appearance. Okay, there were moments when I questioned why she was friends with me—I was pretty enough, but I wasn’t Elena caliber, and I certainly didn’t come from the same universe she did. But I liked to think Elena appreciated the same qualities in me as I appreciated in her.

  “Okay. Okay. Something really big just happened. Something that’s going to change both our lives.” Elena jiggled up and down.

  I frowned. What could that be? Was Elena moving? No way. Maybe her parents were getting back together? But that wouldn’t affect my life. Besides, Elena’s parents famously hated each other. Their divorce was like a battle scene in the latest Avengers movie—mind-blowingly annihilating.

  Elena dragged me through the door and sat me down in the living room, an enormous space off the kitchen. After Elena’s mom left, her dad had let Elena redecorate the place any way she wanted, sort of as a bargaining chip to get her to spend more time there. There were a lot of chunky knit blankets, glowing Moravian stars, a giant faux-tiger-skin rug, and some huge art prints that Elena had bought on eBay because they’d allegedly once belonged to Zendaya. I’d tried to argue her out of it—she could have bought a grand piano for what they cost, or donated the money to an animal shelter, and did anyone really need stuff that used to belong to Zendaya, anyway?

  She plopped us down on one of the gray leather couches and held both my hands. She was literally vibrating with excitement, which reminded me of the day we’d met at casting for My Fair Lady in ninth grade. We’d both gotten parts in the chorus. I was kind of bummed—I’d wanted a speaking part—but Elena was thrilled, because she’d thought she wouldn’t get cast at all. That day, she’d turned to me and crowed, way overenthusiastically, “We’re chorus buddies! Want to come to my house after this and run through our songs?” Which was so sweet because, well, no one actually hears the chorus. But it led to an instant friendship.

  “My dad gave me a graduation present,” Elena began.

  I pulled my hands away, confused. “But you’re only a junior.”

  “I know. I guess he lost track of the years. Which means I guess I’ll get two graduation presents out of this—his loss, my gain. Yay, divorce!” She put her hands in the air in a raise-the-roof style, but I could sense the pain in her voice. The divorce hadn’t been easy on Elena. She was often trapped in the middle of vicious arguments and never knew where she was spending Christmases, and then there was the awkwardness of meeting her parents’ new significant others—neither of which she really liked. “Anyway, he gave it to me last night—and you’re not going to believe what it is. Guess.”

  I shrugged. “A car?”

  “Nope!” She threw her hands up again, gleeful. “Guess again!”

  “Just tell me, El,” I said, growing impatient. In Elena’s world, the possibilities were endless. I wouldn’t be surprised if she said a pet Bengal tiger.

  She leaned forward a little. The way her eyes bugged out, it looked like she was about to explode. “My father. Got us tickets. To the Solstice Festival.”

  My jaw dropped. “That thing on the island?”

  “Yes!” Elena was bouncing excitedly. “He got us tickets! And flights! And … everything! We’re going!”

  I stared at her wide pink mouth. “What do you mean … we’re?”

  “Me and you!” Elena gave me a look that telegraphed, Duh, obviously! “He said I could take a friend, and who else would I choose? Adri! You’re going to finally meet Lavender! Isn’t this amazing?”

  “Yeah, but…” I ran my hands through my hair. Lavender, the singer who was better than Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, and Ariana Grande combined, had been my favorite for years—and she never toured. She was the biggest reason I was paying attention to Solstice in the first place. “The concert is ludicrously expensive. There’s no way I could pay for a ticket.”

  Elena waved her hand. “We’ve got it covered. He doesn’t want me to go alone, and he flipped when I told him I was choosing you. You know how responsible my dad thinks you are.”

  I frowned. “So I’m only coming because I’m responsible?”

  Elena play-hit me, rolling her eyes like she wouldn’t even dignify that with a response. Then she flopped back onto the couch dramatically. “Please say you can come, Adri. Please?”

  I stared at the large, blown-glass bowl that sat in the middle of the coffee table, remembering that this, too, cost as much as a small appliance. Should Elena have really poured Doritos into it? I did sometimes worry that Elena saw me as the “responsible friend”—book smart, reliable, boring. It was kind of true: I wasn’t a risk taker. I did my weekend homework as soon as I got home on Friday afternoon. The few times I’d drank I didn’t like it, and I stayed far, far away from drugs, terrified that my mother would surprise me with a drug test—they’d been through so much heartache with Maria, after all. I was always the designated driver. I’d never gotten a traffic ticket, not even for blowing a stop sign. I had a savings account with the money I’d earned from the diner, though it didn’t have nearly enough in it to pay for Solstice.

  “Aren’t you afraid Solstice … isn’t me?” I then asked.

  Elena cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Just…” I took a breath. “Everyone going can afford the huge price tag. What if I don’t fit in?”

  Elena guffawed. “Of course you’ll fit in! You’ll be there, won’t you? No one’s gonna judge you or anything!”

  But I wasn’t sure. My whole life, I’d felt judged for one thing or another. As a different ethnicity. As the daughter of a blue-collar family at a preppy private school. And now, as an outsider at a concert for the 1 percent. Or maybe that was irrational. Would I be able to get out of my own head and even enjoy myself? On the other hand, it did sound amazing. The adventure of a lifetime. And it would be fun to bond with Elena.

  But then I remembered my internship. And everything else. My shoulders slumped. “My parents will never go for it.”

  Elena’s face fell. “But if you can’t go, then I can’t go!”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I guess you should take someone else.” It pained me to say it. Now that the festival was a possibility, I desperately wanted to go.

  “We just have to convince them,” Elena decided. She sat up straighter, suddenly in debate mode. “What can our arguments be? That it’s a once-in-a-lifetime trip you’ll probably never get to do again?”

  I thought for a moment. “Maybe we could give it some kind of this-will-be-good-for-a-college-essay angle.” I grabbed a Dorito from the bowl and crunched down loudly. “Who’s running it again?”

  Elena narrowed her eyes. “Zack Frazier. The YouTube star.”

  I wrinkled my nose. My parents wouldn’t be impressed by a YouTuber. “I could just say that I’m pretty certain Post Malone’s going to invite me on his Jet Ski, and I could write a college essay about that.” It was a joke, though. My parents wouldn’t buy that, either.

  Elena snapped her fingers. “Or about how, on this trip, you’re going to become best friends with Lavender!”

  “And a bunch of supermodels and influencers,” I snickered. “Or maybe I’ll become a supermodel myself.” I did a few hip pops, though there was really no chance that was going to happen—I didn’t know if I had a supermodel vibe or not, but the idea of living my life with a camera stuck in my face 24-7 made me twitchy with anxiety.

  We collapsed into giggles, but then a weighty silence fell over us. I stared at the shimmering pink curtains I’d helped Elena choose. On top
of the TV was the silver metal sculpture we’d found at a cool design store—Elena liked it because she said it looked like a metal cloud, though I’d said it looked like a boil on someone’s butt. In less than a year, Elena and I would be off to college, starting new lives. Even next school year, we’d be in fewer classes together—I was in honors and AP everything, and Elena was more on an arts track.

  I worried about us growing apart. This trip felt crucial, suddenly. If we went, we’d make more memories to carry our friendship through.

  “I really want you to come,” Elena said as though reading my mind. “Please say you’ll talk to your parents.”

  I looked over at her, grateful she wanted to go with me as badly as I wanted to go with her. “Okay,” I said, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I’ll try.”

  @SolsticeFestZa: Greetings, fellow explorers, music lovers, and marauders! First things first, our lineup for next weekend is INCREDIBLE. Aside from the teasers we’ve already given, we’re keeping the rest of the roster SUPER TOP SECRET—but know that your mind will be BLOWN. (1/4)

  @SolsticeFestZa: Second, festival tickets are sold out—we repeat, SOLD THE F OUT. But! Tag two friends below and send us a pic of your $250+ purchase at the SOLSTICE FESTIVAL ONLINE STORE, and we’ll give two lucky winners tix for FREE! (2/4)

  @SolsticeFestZa: We particularly like the Solstice cashmere sweatshirt ($180), the Solstice Festival poster, signed by the artist ($230, unframed), or the Solstice chemical-free bug spray in a limited-edition graffiti-inspired designer can ($39 for 6 oz.). Shop on, my friends! (3/4)

  @SolsticeFestZa: (Disclaimer: Prize tickets do not include transportation fees, food, lodging, drinks, medical services, merchandise, or other basic needs. But again, mind-blowing adventure comes free!) (4/4)

  Replies:

  @SeedSpore16: I’m in! Outfit ideas? How hot is it down there? Are we really going to need bug spray? The scent’s going to clash with the perfume I had custom-mixed in Paris.

  @Mahalo_Star: @SeedSpore16 I’m just bringing a big beach hat and TONS of bikinis! #BikiniInfluencer

  @jhhj99: @Mahalo_Star Ooh, then I’m bringing my camera!

  @FinniganDefine: Is it me or does Myla look pretty uninhabited? I kind of can’t believe they even have an airport. I have diabetes and I worry about medical attention/getting quickly off the island in case of emergency. Or am I freaking for nothing?

  @bb8-kool: @FinniganDefine I’m sure Solstice has this all figured out! Or just raid Zack Frazier’s boat! (Someone told me he travels with a 24-7, 365 on-call doctor and an MRI machine!)

  @FinniganDefine: @bb8-kool Good thinking! By the way, is anyone else having trouble finding Myla on a map?

  @MunchausenFantasee: @FinniganDefine Yep, I Google Earthed it a few days ago. Half the island looks like a big field of nothing.

  @bb8-kool: @MunchausenFantasee A big field of AWESOMENESS!

  3

  IT WAS THE FOLLOWING NIGHT after dinner. Dishes were washed. The kitchen was clean. My older sister had already gone out for the evening, which was her routine because she didn’t want to sit around with my parents watching Masterpiece. The house was quiet. Peaceful. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t too-too late, and my parents had drunk their single glasses of wine at dinner, which meant they were as relaxed as they’d ever be.

  Go time, then.

  Butterflies did gymnastics in my stomach as I padded into the den and stood in front of the TV screen, blocking the image of a Victorian-era British woman in a bustle scuttling down a flight of gloomy stone stairs. My parents were in their normal places: my mother on the ancient velour couch, the diner’s accounting books in her lap, my father in the La-Z-Boy, half watching Masterpiece and half skimming an article in Gourmet magazine. He read Gourmet to get inspired at the diner, though I found that laughable—the menu hadn’t changed since I was three, and gravy fries and western omelets were hardly gourmet food.

  “Mom?” My voice croaked. “Dad? Can I talk to you?”

  My mother hit PAUSE and lowered her hands to her lap. My father marked his place in the magazine. I fixed my gaze on the big bookcase in the corner that held our antiquated encyclopedias and about three hundred photo albums from when I was a baby because I was too afraid to look my parents in the eye. My heart was a jackhammer.

  “So listen,” I said, starting the speech I’d spent the last hour constructing and memorizing. “I’ve worked really hard this school year. My grades are great. My SAT scores are great. I’ve never missed a day of work. And I’m looking forward to this internship at the law firm. But I’m wondering…” I took a breath. Here goes. “I’m wondering if I could take a little trip with Elena next weekend. To, um, this island called Myla in the Caribbean. To a music festival. To see my favorite singer.”

  Their brows knit in confusion. My mother started twisting her plain gold wedding band around her finger, something she did when she was displeased.

  “Her father is paying all the expenses,” I said quickly. “No questions asked. And I’ve looked into it—the facilities where we’ll be staying are safe, and there are security and medical teams on staff, and I promise I won’t drink. Like I said, my favorite singer, Lavender, is performing, and she never tours. And also, I’ve never been anywhere—maybe this would be good for a college application. And as far as the internship goes, I’ll only miss two days. I can work extra hours with Michael when I’m back, and obviously I won’t take any time off for the rest of the summer. And Elena and I will keep each other safe. So … can I?”

  It came out of me in a rush … but a persuasive rush, I hoped. A safe, secure, all-expenses-paid music festival that could also double as college-essay potential? A mercy gift for the girl who never did anything wrong? If Adrianna Sanchez were my daughter, I’d totally let her go.

  My mother finally let out an incredulous snort. “You’re joking, right?”

  “It sounds like a disaster,” my father added.

  It felt like they’d sucker punched me. “Wait, what? Why?”

  My mother’s pencil tapped her accounting pad. “Myla Island? I’ve never heard of it, and I won the geography bee my senior year.”

  I gritted my teeth. My mother never let me forget she’d won that damn geography bee, probably because geography was the only subject I didn’t score 100 percent in.

  “And furthermore,” my mother went on, “I’ve already read about this festival. It looks slapdash. Poorly planned. How do you know security is tight? From their website? What if they’re lying? What will you do if you’re in trouble? From what I’ve read, there’s only one way off the island—by boat. What if there’s an emergency?”

  “They have medical facilities,” I said weakly, though I wasn’t entirely sure if this was true.

  She looked at me hard. “What, a first-aid tent? And what about the threat of Zika? Is that present in that country? You want to have babies someday, don’t you?”

  I threw my hands up. “Are you kidding me? Zika? Babies?” I looked at my father. He often let my mother take the first round of offense. “What’s your case against it?”

  My father stroked his chin. “Adrianna, there are far better experiences you could be having this summer than going to some dirty music festival on a desert island.”

  “It won’t be dirty! And Myla looks beautiful! There’s … sea life! Endangered species! The people who live there look friendly and cool!”

  “And more than that,” he went on, seemingly not hearing me, “I take offense at you saying you’ve never been anywhere. We all went to Peru last year to visit your grandparents. That’s a whole different continent.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Peru,” I grumbled. Not that I saw much in Peru except the inside of Abuela’s house.

  “And you went to New York City on a class trip,” he added.

  I shut my eyes. “With the debate team. And it was outside New York City. In a hotel in Newark, New Jersey.”

  “You don’t have to go on a harebrained luxury trip
to write a good college essay,” my father added, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I gritted my teeth. “Forget the essay part. It’s just … this means a lot to me. It will be great for Elena and me, and it will also be great to refresh my brain. I need a little break, okay?” My parents looked at me skeptically, but I rushed on. “And also, I sort of already promised her I’d go. If you guys say no, that means she doesn’t get to go, either—and her dad’s out all that money.”

  The corners of my father’s mouth arched down. “You shouldn’t have given Elena the impression that you were allowed before asking us.”

  “Nor should her father have bought a ticket for you,” my mother added. “That’s very wasteful. And I raised you better, Adrianna, than to accept someone else’s charity.”

  “Charity?” I squeaked. “I’m going as Elena’s guest. And her dad won’t even miss the money.” But I knew that wasn’t the point—like me, my parents took offense at the cavalier way some people spent money. “If none of the ticket costs go to charity, I’ll find a charitable organization I can donate to—I’ll use some of my internship funds.” Maybe that would make this karmically square with the universe.

  “But also,” my father piped up, barely hearing what I’d said, “We haven’t taken you anywhere, as you say, because we’re saving every penny for you to go to college. We always thought there was more to life than frivolous excess. We wanted to give you the best future we could.”

  I opened my mouth, about to protest that I was grateful, and blah blah blah. But there was no point. I’d wounded my parents’ pride. To them, I sounded like a bratty kid complaining that her family didn’t go on all the fun trips her friends’ families did. Which, yes, was the truth—how many times in elementary school did I quietly vibrate with jealousy when my classmates took weekend jaunts to Disney World while we slogged away at the diner? How many international class trips had I skipped because it wasn’t in the budget? It was amazing that my parents sprang for that New York debate trip, actually. But it wasn’t what I’d meant. I knew trips or material things weren’t the meaning of life, nor did they necessarily make a person well-rounded. I’d hoped my parents knew that about me, too—but maybe they didn’t.