Class Favorite (24 page)

It
was
pretty out. It was cool enough for jeans but warm enough for short sleeves, and the air was somehow weighted with the promise of the hot summer to come. The walk to Jim's Grocery took about ten minutes, down our street, across Reagan Park to Oak Hill Drive, where one of the volleyball coaches lived, and on to Spring Creek Avenue. Ladel doesn't have many sidewalks, except in nice neighborhoods and maybe in what passes for our downtown, so I had to walk on the strip of gravel and weeds between the road and the ditch. Mom used to always tell to us to walk with traffic, but Dad told us to walk against it so that we could see the cars coming. I walked against it.

Jim was from Vietnam and of an indefinite age—he somehow looked old, but didn't have any wrinkles. He could have been twenty or ninety, I had no idea. His store had been robbed twice—both times at gunpoint—but for some reason the neighborhood was still considered a good one, proven by the fact that Mom let me walk there by myself.

“Hi!” Jim said enthusiastically when I walked through the chiming door, and I smiled back at him. Mom had given me plenty of money for the milk, so I decided to buy some candy for the walk back.

The candy aisle was directly in Jim's view from the cash register, I guess to keep an eye on kids who thought about stealing. When I turned into the aisle from the side of the store, I stopped dead, almost knocking over the Pringles display: Arlene was there, three Tangy Taffy bars in one hand, looking at the rest of her options. I took a step back, hiding behind the single-serving Pringles cans.

She was wearing cut-off sweatpants and an oversize T-shirt, and her hair was tangled and pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. She looked about as happy to be alive as I felt. I watched her reach down to the bottom rack for a Cherry Mash—two of them—before it hit me. More like smacked me full-on upside my head. It was
our
night to watch Raspberry Award movies. I had been so completely focused on Jason and making my way toward the Class Favorite ballot that our tradition had slipped from my mind for the first time since we'd started it. And there she was, going through the motions of our ritual alone.

I assumed she would turn toward the back where the drinks were, but she turned the other way—my way—and suddenly we were standing face-to-face. I felt like I'd been caught spying. I guess I had been.

“Oh,” Arlene said, stopping abruptly in front of me. I took a little step back, wishing I hadn't lingered. “I didn't see you there,” she said, shifting the candy awkwardly in her hands.

She waited, almost expectantly, though she wouldn't look
at me. She didn't look angry, and for that, I was grateful. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to ignore her or fight with her or insult her. I wanted to burst out, “I'm sorry!” and give her a big tight hug, even though we weren't the hugging type. Seeing her at Jim's, her fists filled with our favorite candy, obviously preparing for a Saturday night alone, made me want to drop everything and just be with her.

I scratched at the single-serving Pringles cans nervously, and when she realized I wasn't going to talk, Arlene said, “So. I guess you're going to Jason's big party tonight.” Her voice was stiff and strained, as if getting the words out were a major chore. I could tell she wanted to be tough with me, but I heard the hesitation in her voice. “I heard some people talking about it in the halls. Y'all a couple now?”

“I don't know,” I muttered, still not looking at her. It seemed like an odd question, in light of what had happened between us. I wanted us—Arlene and I—to be friends again. But it's hard to just come right out and say that, especially when there was a lingering doubt of loyalty.

“Well,” Arlene prompted again, taking control of the conversation like I should have done. “I guess you have a lot of exfoliating to do. Or something.” There was no hesitation in her voice now—it was full of edge and anger. She turned her back to me and walked to the cooler, swiftly grabbing a large bottle of Orangina. “So have fun,” she added sarcastically.

“I'm not going,” I bleated. “I have to babysit the Medina twins. It's this whole stupid thing with my sister. She has some running thing, and I called everyone I know”—
except you!
I wanted to say—“but no one can do it, so I have to miss the party.” I took a breath and let out a big sigh, and was amazed that I felt slightly calm.

“Well,” Arlene began cautiously, her voice softening as she shifted the goodies in her arms. “I can't say that you don't deserve it.”

“Forget it,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to hear her say
I told you so
. I started to leave, upset I had told her about babysitting.

“Look, wait a sec.”

I turned to face her, but only looked at her for a second. In a lightning glance, she looked annoyed.

“I can't believe I'm about to do this,” she mumbled. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I know how much you like Jason—I've watched you drool over him all year. I'm sure this party is a huge deal for you, so if you want, I'll watch the Medinas for you tonight.”

I think
gobsmacked
would be the best word to describe my reaction.
As in, Wait a second, did I just hear what I think I heard?
And then,
Is this a trick?

“I've sat for the twins before,” Arlene continued. “They like me. I'm sure their parents won't mind.”

I just stood there, completely silent, unable to blink or close my gaping mouth.

After a long pause, she said, “So, anyway, I'll call Mrs. Medina and make sure it's okay and get the details. I guess I'll call you if there's a problem. Otherwise,” she said, heading toward Jim's counter, “have fun with Jason.”

“No, you don't have to,” I finally managed.

“It's fine,” she said, handing her money over to Jim.

I felt like grabbing her from behind and giving her a huge hug. It wasn't just that she was making it possible for me to go to Jason's party—it was more than that. She was doing something so selfless, especially considering all that had happened to us in the last couple of months. I didn't deserve her. I was the world's worst person getting a mark of kindness from the Goddess of Nice. In those moments, I realized all that I was losing when I didn't have a friend like Arlene in my life.

She took her sack of candy from Jim and started toward the door.

“Arlene, wait!” I called. She turned back to me. There were so many things I wanted to say to her, so much to get out. But all I could manage was the simplest of words: “Thank you.”

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to smile at me. She didn't, but she did say, “You're welcome,” before heading out the door.

19

Do You Know How to Party?

Your swim team just had its third victory in a row, so you invite the team over on Saturday night to celebrate. The vibe is:

a) raucous—come as you are, bring who you please, and turn the noise up!

b) low-key—only the girls on the team are invited for a movie-watching marathon complete with tons of junk food.

c) elegant—below-the-knee skirts are a must at the three-course dinner you're catering.

 

As I walked home from Jim's Grocery, I found myself in a daze. I was so completely dumbfounded, baffled, and shocked by what had just happened with Arlene that I walked with traffic instead of against it.

My mind was all over the place. Why would Arlene do that? Was it her way of apologizing to me? Was she just feeling
guilty about (possibly) sabotaging my life, or was it possible that I had been wrong all along, that she didn't tell anyone about the roses or have anything to do with my locker, and this was her way of showing me that she'd always be my friend, no matter what
I
did?

Or . . . was it another plot to ruin me? Maybe she told me she would babysit the Medinas but had no intention of ever showing up. I'd still get in huge trouble, Mom would ground me until I graduated from college, and Jason and I would never have a chance to fall in love.

But then I tossed my suspicions in the ditch. I was more confused than ever, but I had to remember that this was the girl who was the only one there for me when my folks split up. Okay, so she did tell some of her friends about my parents' split, but I hadn't exactly told her
not
to. I couldn't ignore the fact that she made that entire weekend in December All About Sara Weekend. She told me we could do anything I wanted, that we could even go to Six Flags despite the fact that it was freezing and they were doing the Holiday in the Park thing, which is lame but we love it. But all I wanted to do was watch as many movies as we could stand, so Arlene's mom checked out four from the video store; after we watched them, she returned them and checked out four more for the next day. My eyes were killing me by the end of the weekend from staring at the TV for so long, but it was awesome because it had
really gotten my mind off all the stuff that was happening at home. After that weekend I had counted myself lucky to have such a great best friend.

How could I be expected to have fun at the party knowing Arlene was working her butt off trying to control those two screaming brats? And that once she put them in bed, she'd watch a really horrible movie alone? I'd tried watching
Catwoman
alone over spring break, and it only made me more depressed. When I watched bad movies alone, I realized they were no longer so bad, they were good—they were just bad. And knowing that Arlene would suffer through that while I was off being charming with Bowie's hottest guy made me feel like dirt.

Should I skip the party and go to the Medinas with Arlene?

As I pushed through the screen door of our house, I knew the answer. I mean, who was I kidding? Despite my suspicions, Arlene was over-the-top in her niceness, and maybe I was being totally selfish, but still—it was Jason. The decision made me fully depressed, but in a way, I thought,
I'm doing it for Arlene, too
. You know, having enough fun for both of us. Anyway, it helped me feel one molecule better.

 

When Kirstie opened her door, the smell of vanilla attacked my nostrils. It was sickly sweet, and when I stepped inside, I had to rub my nose to ward off a sneeze attack.

“Can you believe it?” I said, kicking off my shoes by the door. “It's like I got a temporary reprieve or something.” I pulled my bag up over my shoulder—I didn't know what to wear, so I basically had brought everything—and followed Kirstie up the stairs to her room.

“I can't believe Arlene did that,” Kirstie said. I had called her as soon as I got home and told her the whole thing. “Do you think it's because she feels guilty?”

“Not at all. We didn't talk about all the stuff that's happened, but I have to tell you, I don't think Arlene did it. Any of it. I'm going to talk to her—tomorrow, I think.”

“Yeah, I would,” Kirstie said. “Just to make sure.”

“No, you don't understand. I
know
she's not responsible. It's just not in her nature. She's my best friend, and first thing tomorrow, I'm going to make it right.”

“Wow.” Kirstie laughed. “Well, don't let me stop you.” For a moment she looked like she was going to say something more. But then she said, “Why don't you take a bath? It'll help you mellow out. My tub is huge, and I have the scrubs and bubbles and smell-good stuff. Help yourself to any of it.”

So I did. The water was so hot, it made my skin red and my forehead sweat, but I didn't care. I was nervous about the night, but the warmth of the enormous tub made me feel like I was wrapped in a big, comforting blanket. I closed my eyes and fell into a deep almost-sleep.

Kirstie's shuffling around in her room snapped me out of a fantasy I was having about Jason that involved the sun setting on a lake and Cherry Sours. The water had turned lukewarm, and the bubbles were almost gone.