Girl Mans Up (28 page)

The very first slide has the title of our project,
The Truth Is
, with Blake's name and mine next to each other, and a mention of a silent partner below that.

Next is a text slide that says:
What's your truth? It probably sucks so let someone else tell it.
That was my idea. The next three photos go by and it gets pretty quiet, because people are seeing the students' faces in the photos first, then the truths appear on the signs they're holding.

Some of the truths are funny and we get some laughs. Like Jill, one of the volleyball girls who hits the tanning salons year-round and who all the guys drool over—her sign says,
I can go days without taking a shower. My mom forces me to wash every three days. Whatever.
Olivia thinks it was someone trying to mess with our project with dumb lies, but I wanted to include it because in this whole school, there are definitely more than a few greasy dirtbags. And we can't post just the emo truths.

Alek is this super-fat kid in grade ten, and he puts weight on sort of like my mom does, so he gets laughed at a lot. His sign says
I know my mom thinks she's prettier than me. I think she's right.
We're getting close to the end. I know because I've been keeping count of how many pictures have gone by. Finally, Blake's pic comes up. Her super amazing self is blown up huge for everyone to stare at. Her sign says
My dream girl? Mrs. Wexler. Definitely a total hottie.
There's a lot of laughing going on, and Mrs. Wexler looks shocked, hiding her red face like she thinks she'll get in trouble for some kid's weird truth.

That's my girlfriend right there.

Pictures slide along. And then there's this super-smart
kid Will from grade nine. He's in a wheelchair, so I can only imagine what people would think his truth is. His sign says,
I cheated on every test I've taken at this school.

My heart starts beating, because the last photo is next. That means Colby's must be after that. Another sweeping glance of the crowd and there's no sign of Colby or any of his peons. Blake and I exchange looks, and I mouth
Here we go.

I move to stand behind Olivia, but she doesn't seem nervous. She looks up at the big screen, her hands hanging loosely at her side.

And then he's up there, Colby in black and white. That I'm-better-than-you grin plastered on his face, his legs spread apart, head to the side.

The quote appears.

Olivia smiles to herself.

I walked my butt from North Castlehill to her place just to see her smile—and I'll keep doing it as long as she lets me.

I wait for the quote to change, to turn into something else.

But it's the end slide that comes up.
The truth is, being a student here can mean a lot of things, but we're pretty sure most of you can't handle our truth . . . right?

People start clapping.

Olivia turns.

“Wait—was that it?” I ask her.

She leans in close. “Yes.”

“Wow,” Blake says, like she understands.

“But—I don't get it.”

“I asked Elliott to give me his truth,” she says. Her face
is red, and she can't look me in the eyes. “That's what he said about me.”

“Elliott,” Blake says. “He's such a righteous fellow.”

“He seriously walked from his place to yours?” I ask Olivia. “What happened to his van?”

“It's his dad's business van, so he only gets it sometimes—anyway, that's not the point!”

“What
is
the point?” I ask.

Olivia shrugs. “The point is, that quote would never be Colby's—not in a million years—and that's pretty sad. For him.”

“Well played. That wins everything.” Blake holds her hand up for Olivia to give her a high five. “Oh my god, you guys, we totally rocked that! Did you see Mr. Middleton's face? He is so impressed.”

“Our idea was genius,” I tell her, before her parents show up. They look so proud of her, Blake's dad with his thumbs-up and his mouth all wide. We wave at each other, and I leave Blake with them.

Olivia starts moving toward our station, so I rush through the crowd to catch up. Everyone goes back to mingling, hitting the refreshments table, going up to meet the mayor, and checking out the anniversary stuff that's on display. People keep swarming our station to flip through our portfolio, especially the ones who missed some of the slide show.

I tap her shoulder and lean in. “Colby's picture—I thought—”

“I realized that it doesn't matter what I say to him—he
doesn't care,” she says. “And humiliating someone like that is not really my style.”

“Yeah, true.”

“I don't care about him getting the message. I don't even care if he ever sees the photo. I have nothing to say to him.” She pulls her phone out and gets lost texting for a while. My eyes find Blake and her parents talking with Mr. Middleton, and I wonder where Johnny is.

When Olivia's attention comes back to me, I say, “I can't believe that guy walked all that way—in the freezing cold—just to see you.”

“You wouldn't walk across town to see Blake?”

I shrug. “Good point. I totally would.”

That's when I spot Johnny standing with a group of older dudes, and Mayor Amit Chandra's got his hand on Johnny's shoulder. Johnny reaches into his back pocket, and next thing I know he's handing his business card to people the mayor points at. My smile is aimed at the ground, and I think how awesome it would've been if our parents had been able to see that. But that's okay, because at least I was here to see it.

THE NEXT NIGHT, OLIVIA'S OVER TO HELP ME KEEP
up with my suspension homework. After dinner, we relax on the balcony, sipping hot chocolate with our jackets zipped tight. The view from here is pretty decent, and it's quiet at night.

Olivia says, “Is Blake a good kisser? She looks it, with those pouty lips.”

“She's amazing.”

“Because—well, me and Elliott—he kissed me.”

“Well, it's about time,” I say.

She does her girly little smile that makes me roll my eyes every time. “He did this thing with his tongue—”

“No. Ew. No girl talk. I said no girl talk! Come on.”

“Can I text it to you?”

“No! Come on.”

“But he takes his tongue and—”

“Olivia! What's your deal, man? You want me to be picturing you two doing stuff with tongues? Stop it. I mean, good for Elliott that he's got some moves. But I don't need the details.”

“But this is guy talk. I'm going to share some of Elliott's moves so you can make good use of them on your end. This is, like, bros helping each other out, is it not?”

“No. It's girl talk. And I got my own moves.”

I push out of the chair and slide the balcony door to get back to the heat while Olivia offers to text Elliott's move to me again. So I lock her out there. Just for a minute.

“Are you guys arguing again?” Johnny asks as he passes through from the kitchen to his bedroom.

“She's trying to tell me all about the way Elliott kissed her so I can do it to Blake,” I explain, while Olivia steps inside.

“Please tell Pen that's guy talk. The sharing of tips to help—”

“No, no. I'm outta here. I don't wanna hear this,” Johnny says, covering his ears and heading for the front closet. “I'm gonna be home late. Clean up your damn mess in the kitchen!”

I meet him at the door to lock it behind him. Then Olivia meets me in the kitchen, where we begin to attack the mess we made earlier when we prepared a feast of hot dogs and nachos. Olivia fills the sink with soapy water, and I grab a butter knife to scrape all the crusty cheese bits off the stove.

“I really like this place,” Olivia says. “I really hope you end up staying here for good.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Well, you know how things can be with parents. It can be unbearable, and then just like that, it blows over. That,” she says, “or they force you to come home no matter what you want.”

“That's not really how it is for me. I didn't just take off because I had a fight with my parents.”

Olivia nods, and before she can say anything else, the apartment phone goes off. I rush to the receiver to buzz Blake in.

“You need to leave,” I tell Olivia.

She lets the nacho pan drip its excess water over the sink and flashes me her angry eyes. “You could be a little less rude about it, Pen!”

“Listen, it's Friday night and I have the place to myself. My girl's on her way up. Do you understand what that means?”

“I'm not stupid.”

“I know you're not. So, uh, you need to go.”

She puts the pan down on a dish towel laid out in front of the toaster, then she tiptoes to the living room to find her purse. “Okay, so the tongue thing. Just—”

“Oh my god. Stop!”

She flashes me an evil grin, because apparently she's got a bit of a mean streak. “Have fun.”

When Olivia opens the door, Blake's standing there looking good. So, so damn good.

“I'm being kicked out now,” Olivia says. “Bye.”

Blake laughs and we both watch Olivia gliding down the hall like she's made some grand exit or something. After that it's Blake and me. I'm full of nerves.

She's not nervous, though. She never is about this.

I DON'T NEED RECYCLED
kissing tips from Olivia, because I know my girl. I know what she likes. I'm okay with putting most of the focus on her. That's the best part.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, not for the first time this week.

“Yeah . . .” Because we've been at it for an hour and she
knows I'm weak right about now. “Maybe not. I don't know.”

She's got almost no clothes on. I'm still in most of mine.

Usually I can get her to stop trying to turn the focus on me by ramping up my game.

“Stop!” she says, pushing herself up on her elbows and pushing my hand away. “What's wrong? Is it me?”

“Ha!” I sit up next to her, trying not to let myself die of shame at being rejected. “As if it could ever be you. You're . . . everything.”

“You're everything, too. So, what gives? Are you shy or something?”

I close my eyes even though it's total darkness in here. “That makes me sound like the biggest douche in the world.”

She pushes me down and then lies up against me. There's a topless girl against me. I almost wish I wasn't wearing a shirt.

“You know that I know you're a girl, right?” she says. “I'm okay with that. I like that.”

“I know.”

“So . . .”

We lie there in the dark, and after a while I stop thinking about this naked topless girl against me and start thinking about what she's actually saying.

“Say I was okay with you touching me, but I wanted you to touch me the way you touch a guy—would that make sense?”

“Totally,” she says.

And then she's on top of me, and the breath rushes out of my lungs. She grabs my collar, then runs her fingernails down my neck and—okay, yeah, this I'm into. This is—

“Damn,” I say.

When she holds me—her arms are wrapped around my neck, around my waist—and when her voice is in my ear—it's all just . . . righteous.

THREE WEEKS LATER, I'M BACK AT MY PARENTS'
to help Mom with the Christmas decorations. School's breaking soon for the holidays. Johnny drops me off on the way to Dom's, and he tells me to call if I need to. This is the first time I've been back here without him.

It's been snowing lightly all day, and the air smells clean. The street is quiet and dark. I look up at the window of my room, but there's nothing inside me that makes me feel homesick for it, like I'm glad to be home. Except I do want to see my mom and my dad.

“What's up?” Colby says.

I look over at his house, and now I see him on the porch, the tip of his cigarette glowing red. He's sitting on the railing, his feet threaded through the iron bars to keep from tipping forward into the bushes. He must be waiting for a girl, so he can take her down to his place through the back so his parents don't know.

“Hey,” I say.

“So you don't live here anymore.”

He's two doors down, and it's like our voices are disturbing the night. Like I've done a million times since I was nine years old, I cross the neighbor's lawn over to Colby's house, except I don't go up the path to the porch.

“Nah. I live with Johnny now,” I say.

He nods. “That's cool.”

“Yeah.”

We stare at each other. I know he's waiting for me to say something, but it's not going to happen.

When his cigarette is done, two drags later, he finally says, “It's kind of crazy how everything played out.”

“I guess.”

“You guys put my picture up in your project,” he says. “Without asking. Isn't that a copyright thing?”

“Maybe. You could try suing us to see what happens.”

He gives me this look like he wasn't expecting me to answer that way.

“She made me crazy,” he says. “Olivia.”

“You could've just been nice to her. You could've just stopped with your crap and tried being decent to her,” I say, and he stops in the middle of shaking a fresh cigarette out of his pack to look up at me. “She was already loyal to you. You could've been the same to her. I mean—she had you by the balls, but she let you go.”

He gives me an unblinking stare. I lift my head higher. Then he's pulling out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I should've just never talked to her in the first place. Because then none of this would've happened.”

“Some of it would've still happened,” I say.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“You don't get to pretend it never happened, though. She doesn't get to do that. I don't get to do that.”

“I forget nothing, okay?” he says. “I might walk away, but I forget nothing.”

Maybe to him, that means a lot. But in real life, that means shit. “It's what you do that matters, dude.”

He untangles his feet from the railing and climbs off. “Punching you—that wasn't cool. A lot of things weren't . . . cool, you know?”

“Yeah. A lot.”

Footsteps echo somewhere to my right, and when I take a look, a girl is coming down the sidewalk. So I take a couple steps back. Colby hitches his chin up at me, and smoke pours out of his mouth. So I take a breath and shrug before turning back the way I came.

I think—if I wanted—it could've been worked out. I could've asked him if he got
Rusted
on Xbox yet. Then we would've talked about that for a while. He would've asked what it's like at Johnny's. And it would've felt regular, just talking.

Instead, I'm walking away.

I wonder what kind of guy he'll end up being once he realizes his rules and his code are total bull. It's not my problem anymore. I got my own code.

JOHNNY PICKS ME UP
just after ten. I load a couple bags of my stuff into the cab of the truck, then head back to the house, where my mom's waiting with a stack of plastic containers filled with leftovers.

“You wanna come home, I won't say nothing no more,” she says when I'm about to head off. “This is you
casa
.”

Oh, man. It's too much to keep my eyes level with hers. “I'm all right with Johnny, Ma. I'm gonna come visit and hang out more, but I want to stay where I am.”

“Okay, okay. You go with you
irmão
, leave
Mãe e Pai
.” She rolls her eyes and waves me away with a flick of her hand, and I think she just can't help herself. Because the family will be up next week for Christmas, and my parents will have to keep up this lie about having kicked Johnny and me out for being disrespectful kids. My mom's like me and she doesn't want to look weak in front of other people. And she's like Colby in the way that she has to take hits at other people whenever she feels threatened. That used to make me want to cave and do what she wants. But it doesn't anymore.

I walk away from her. At the truck, Johnny leans over to grab some of the food containers so I can hop into the passenger seat.

“Always with the food, that woman,” he says, then he lifts plastic lids to peek at the food and smiles when he sees the fish. “Your girl coming over tonight?”

“Nah. She's rehearsing. And she's freaking out because the Battle of the Bands in less than two weeks,” I say. “What are
you gonna be doing New Year's Eve?”

“Me and my buddies have tickets to this show,” he says. “We're gonna see Drowning in Shadows.”

It makes me grin like a douche. “They're really good. I swear.”

“They better be.” His face changes and he goes, “So how'd it go in there?”

“I was thinking,” I say, buckling in. “I'm gonna start paying for the electricity bill.”

“The electricity bill?”

“Yeah. You're paying for everything yourself. That makes me a pretty crappy roommate.”

“You're not my roommate,” he says, putting the food back in my lap. “If I wanted a roommate, I would've let Naveed move in with me.”

“Say I pay the electricity bill, though, then it'll make this more worth it for you.”

He reverses the truck into the street, then we're off, back to the apartment.

“You just pay your phone bill and do your homework. And clean up after yourself,” he says. “And buy your own body wash and all that. That's all you gotta do. And maybe . . . sweep. Those damn dust bunnies. Wooden floors, man.”

“What if I give you, like . . . a hundred a month for rent? It's not a lot but—”

“Stop that, man. For real. Where's this coming from?” He pulls out a cigarette and rolls down his window. When I don't respond, he exhales out the window and snaps his fingers in
front of my face. “Huh? What's up?”

“Ma wants me to come home. She says she'll stop bothering me if I do,” I say. “But I don't want to go back.”

“So don't.”

“I want to stay at the apartment.”

“So stay.”

“You won't try to send me back? Say you try to bring a girl to your place or something, and I'm sitting there eating chips on the couch—you're not gonna try to send me back?”

Johnny slows the truck and pulls over to the curb. “I got that second room for you, all right? Listen up, Pen—I swear to god you can relax and stop worrying, because I'm not gonna send you back. Even if you act like a little douche, I won't send you back. Got it?”

“Even if I don't sweep?”

“Unless you start stealing from me, or you do heroin, or hurt animals, you're good.”

I nod, and Johnny puts the truck in drive.

While we head home, I think about how when I grow up, I want to be just like my brother. That's the kind of girl I want to be.