Authors: Rachel Vail
I hit the 3 wide.
Olivia knocked in the 9 and said, “No interest.”
“Hmmm,” said CJ. “I guess I would kiss Tommy.”
I pushed her. “No way,” I said. “You like him?
Like
him, like him?”
Oh, no.
CJ explained, “She said if you
had
to. Who would you?”
Olivia came around to where I was standing. “Excuse me,” she said. After I moved out of her way, she shot. The 15 teetered at the edge of the side pocket. She tried blowing but no luck.
“Well?” CJ asked me. “Which one would you kiss?”
“Your turn,” I reminded her. What could I say, when she just chose Tommy? Let’s shoot it out for who gets him?
While she bent over the table lining up an impossible shot, I said, “They’re both my friends.” That’s what I always say. I think it’s still true.
“Oh,” CJ said. She missed badly, then turned to Morgan and asked, “Who would you kiss?”
“Neither,” said Morgan, who was practically lying on the table to reach the cue ball. “I hate them both.” She missed, too.
CJ balanced on her cue and arabesqued toward Morgan. “If somebody put a gun to your head?”
“Yours,” Olivia said to me. I found an angle on the 3 and sunk it. I got in the next two, then called the 8 in the far side pocket and sunk that, too.
“On fire!” Morgan said, even though she had just lost. You could see why CJ chose her as a best friend—she’s a good sport. When I fixed her up with Tommy last year, he said, “Yeah, all right, she’s a good sport.” That’s what I’ve always liked about her. I’ve always liked her.
“Lucky shots,” I said, trying to be a good sport, too. I wanted to tell them how I had lined up that last shot, but nobody likes a gloater, so I held it in, and we all went upstairs for some ice cream.
CJ slid gracefully into a chair and sat with her skinny legs straddled. She does that for ballet, she had told me the morning after I slept over—ballet dancers have to push their knees apart all the time, to improve turn-out. I stopped myself from explaining to Morgan and Olivia why CJ sits like that. Morgan probably already knew what turn-out is, from being best friends with CJ since fourth grade.
My hip caught on the arm of my chair as I tried to sit down. It tipped, but I caught it before it fell over. I plopped down hard, trying to make my cloddishness look intentional. “Call me Grace,” I joked.
“You OK?” CJ asked.
“Great,” I said.
Just thinking about kissing at the bus stop
, I thought.
Just trying to avoid Morgan’s eyes
.
Olivia placed bowls of Cookies ’N Creme in front of each of us. I dug right in before I noticed Morgan and CJ were waiting for Olivia to sit down. I tried to swallow the glob of ice cream whole so they wouldn’t see me chew. I got a burning ice-cream neckache from it.
Morgan tipped back in her chair and said, “I think that was really selfish of the boys, don’t you?”
“What?” I tried to rub my throat without their noticing.
“They didn’t even ask their mother to give us a ride here?”
“It’s right down the street,” CJ said.
“Still,” said Morgan. She took a large spoonful, which I was happy to see, but then she just licked it as if it were a cone.
“I guess they could’ve asked,” CJ agreed.
Olivia stood up to get the dish of sprinkles. With her back turned, she mumbled, “You’re just still upset about the kiss.”
“Well, Tommy is a horn-dog,” said Morgan.
We all laughed.
“How hard did he kiss you, anyway?” Olivia asked.
“Hard,” said Morgan. “But I dumped him for it and I’m over the jaw pain. It’s been seven months. I’m just saying, I think it would’ve been nice . . .”
“It would’ve,” Olivia agreed. “Who wants more sprinkles?”
“I do,” I said. Nobody else asked for more. I hunched down a little in my chair.
“Well,” said Morgan, blowing the bangs out of her dark eyes again. “I say we teach them some manners.”
“How?” asked CJ.
“S.T.,” Morgan whispered.
Olivia leaned forward. “What’s that?”
“Silent Treatment. Let them figure out why we’re not talking to them, and maybe they’ll learn, for next time.”
“What if they talk to us?” I asked. “I mean, they’re on my bus.”
“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” Morgan said, frowning. “But it will only work if we stick together.”
Olivia shrugged. “I’m not even friends with them, really.”
“That’s not the point,” said CJ.
“I didn’t say it was,” Olivia snapped back. Their mothers are best friends. Sometimes Olivia and CJ are very close, like when they come back from being on vacation together, but other times they bicker like Anne Marie and Bay used to. They know too many details about each other’s families.
“Well, I’ll do it,” CJ said, and looked at me. I wasn’t mad at the boys, and they’re my friends. CJ tilted her head a little to the side, the way she had when she looked at the rings in the display case at Sundries. She was waiting to see if I would be willing to join her. Morgan was.
I put a half-eaten spoonful back into the green bowl and said, “OK, I’ll do it.”
A horn beeped—it was CJ’s mom, there to pick us up already. Olivia’s mom ran out from her study and bent into the car window, her long black hair in a braid down her back. We weren’t finished eating but we had to throw the bowls quickly into the sink. Too bad, because the ice cream was delicious, and the truth is, I do get hot. I was just saying that to avoid an older brother’s shorts.
“Did you have fun?” Mrs. Hurley asked as the three of us settled into the backseat and waved to Olivia.
“Yeah,” said CJ. “’Bye, Auntie Betsy!” She blew a kiss to Mrs. Pogostin. They’re not really related, just family friends. Maybe I could call Mrs. Levit
Auntie Joan
. Ha, ha.
As she was pulling into the street, Mrs. Hurley asked, “So? Did you have fun? What did you do?” My mother never asks that. She just asks if I said thank you.
“Nothing,” CJ said, just as I was about to blurt out our entire afternoon.
It was so nice of her to ask
, I thought.
“Sounds like fun,” said Mrs. Hurley. “How was Olivia’s appointment?”
CJ shrugged. “We got school supplies and played pool,” she said. “Zoe was awesome, and Olivia, of course. I stank.”
“So did I,” said Morgan. They smiled at each other.
“No you didn’t,” I said. “They were fine.”
Mrs. Hurley pulled into my driveway. I got out. It makes sense that she would drop me off first—I live closest to Olivia, and Morgan lives practically down the street from CJ—but I still felt bad. Left out.
“Don’t forget,” Morgan reminded me. She put her finger over her thin lips. “S.T.”
“I won’t forget.”
“I’ll call you tonight,” CJ said.
“Great,” I answered. I wasn’t sure what we would talk about since we just spent the whole day together but I was happy she wanted to. I waved as Mrs. Hurley backed down my driveway. CJ waved back, but Morgan looked away, out her window.
six
A
fter dinner, CJ called. I tried to
think of a funny story to tell her. In the back of my mind I was thinking I should probably just relax and let CJ tell me a funny story for once, but it feels so good to make her laugh I wanted to prepare something.
“Guess what happened at dinner?” I said.
“What?”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was hoping something would pop into my head, but it didn’t. Nothing had happened at dinner, nothing special, nothing interesting, we all just ate as fast as we could, which is what always happens at my house, because if you eat slow, you don’t get seconds. I listened to the silence of CJ waiting to hear what happened at my dinner, and the more I didn’t say anything, the more I couldn’t think of any way out.
“We ate.”
“You what?” CJ laughed.
“Dad made pasta with meatballs and we ate it. It was the most boring dinner I ever had.” This was not the truth, but I felt like I should spice it up somehow. There have probably been even more boring dinners at my house—I just didn’t necessarily remember them, because they were so boring. “I mean,” I said, hoping I’d come up with something midsentence, “the first day of school. You’d think something interesting would come up over dinner. Especially since it’s our last first day all together, because next year Anne Marie will be gone.”
“Oh, Zoe,” she said in that slow way of hers. “That’s right. Are you depressed?”
“No,” I said. Depressed is a word I’ve never thought of in relation to myself. Everything is always fine with me. Only Colette gets depressed in my family. But then again, maybe I did feel a little blue. I didn’t think I was allowed. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” CJ said.
“Why? Are you depressed, too?” I kneeled on the couch and looked out into the side yard at the tree that had a broken old swing hanging from a branch. It was moving a tiny bit, like it was hoping to be noticed and played with.
“No,” she said, and then, “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it about dance?” I whispered. “What you told me?”
“No.” You could hear the period at the end of that no.
I tried to think what could be bothering her. “It’s not because of pool today, is it? Because you just need practice.”
“No, I don’t care about pool.”
I squinted out the window, trying to see if the branch had grown all the way over the swing’s rope. “Oh,” I said. I couldn’t really see. It was too dark.
“What in the world is that?” Dad yelled from the kitchen.
“Nothing!” I heard Colette yell back.
“Is there something sticking through your skin?”
“Oh, man,” I whispered.
“Do you think my hair is disgusting?” CJ asked.
“Um,” I said. I wasn’t paying attention, to be honest. Daddy had stormed out of the kitchen, screaming up the steps for Mom.
“You do,” CJ said. “You think my hair is disgusting.”
“No,” I whispered. “You have great hair. It’s always so perfect, with a style and everything.” It was getting dark enough for me to see my reflection in the window. I touched my own long, boring hair. “Mine hangs smooshed against my head, blah.”
“You could put yours up,” she suggested. I was just saying that. I actually always until that minute thought it looked good, hanging blah. “Or not,” she added when I didn’t answer.
I watched Mom come clattering down the stairs. She grabbed Colette’s shirt and pulled it up to reveal the little gold hoop.
“What is wrong with this child?” Dad screamed. “Get this girl to a psychiatrist; she has gone totally insane!”
“Oh, Colette,” sighed Mom. “That looks ridiculous.”
Dad’s neck veins bulged. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing. I pierced my belly button,” Colette answered quietly.
“What’s going on there?” CJ asked me.
“Hold on.”
“And you’re encouraging her?” Mom asked Anne Marie.
Poor Anne Marie was caught between them, holding a bottle of alcohol and a cotton ball. “It could get infected,” she said.
Mom shrugged at Daddy and said, “It’s a stage.”
“Take it out,” Daddy told Colette.
“No.” Colette pulled her shirt back down over her stomach. “It’s my body.”
“Not while it lives in my house, it’s not!” Dad screamed.
“Zoe?” CJ asked. “Is somebody screaming there?”
“One sec.”
Mom was pointing up the stairs. “Colette? Upstairs.”
Dad yelled after her, “And that thing better be off your body by tomorrow! I mean it!”
Colette loves being sent to her room. She told me so this summer. In there she doesn’t have to deal with anybody but Bay, who doesn’t bother her much. Bay must be her favorite, I guess.
When Colette’s door slammed, Mom said, “That one is going to be the death of me.” She sounded a little amused.
“It is her body,” Anne Marie tried tentatively.
“Don’t you start,” Mom warned her.
Dad stomped out to the backyard. He has a cigarette out there sometimes, though he swears he quit. I’ve seen the ashes.
“Anyway,” I whispered to CJ.
“Was I on hold?” No laugh in her voice. She did sound depressed.
“Sorry.” I tried to think quick what to do. Mom says you don’t hang your dirty laundry out for the neighbors to see, so I can’t tell people bad stuff about my family. I said, “That was pretty rude of Tommy and Jonas today, huh?”
“You think?” CJ asked. “Morgan said she wasn’t sure if you agreed.”
“I did.”
“I told her so,” CJ said.
“Thanks.” So I guess she and Morgan had already talked. Well, what did I expect? Morgan is her best friend.
“And when Tommy said that thing about my bun?”
“I don’t think he meant anything bad,” I told her.
“Yeah, well, now he got me all depressed about my hair.”
“You have great hair,” I said again.
“Right,” she said. “I have to wear a bun or my hair takes over the classroom. No one can fit in a stairwell with me if it’s not up. And Tommy made me feel terrible about it.”
“He just . . .”
“Are you on his side?”
“No,” I said.
“You sound like you’re on his side,” CJ whispered.
“I’m not,” I assured her.
“You don’t like him, do you?”
If you only knew
. “No!” I insisted. “Please.”
Neither of us talked for a few seconds. I should’ve said
Yeah, maybe I do
. If I want to be best friends, I should tell her my secrets. But I couldn’t tell her, not the way she asked, like it would be a total betrayal of her if I did. My lie just hung there and I listened to it.
“Hey,” CJ said finally. “What did you think about those rings today?”
“Nice.”
“Mmm,” she hummed.
I couldn’t help saying, “Morgan liked the same one, huh?”
“Yeah. That was funny.”
“Really,” I said. Oh, hilarious.
“I never had a friendship ring with anybody,” CJ whispered.
“Not even Morgan?”
“No.”
“Me, neither,” I answered. “I mean, obviously I never had one with Morgan.”
“Right.”
“Why would I? When she’s your best friend.”