by Jenny Han
* * *
Rennie and I never had crushes on the same boys. She had a rotation of boys that she liked, boys who were loud and brash and you never knew if they were making fun of you or if they were serious. She liked the ones who made her feel unsure. Because Rennie was always, always sure.
As for me, the only Jar Island boy I ever had a crush on was Patrick DeBrassio. And even then, it was the kind of crush you have on your friend’s big brother, when you’re safe in knowing that nothing will ever come of it. I was his little sister’s friend, a baby.
So Rennie and I didn’t have crossover crushes, but there was this one time it almost happened. It was that summer before ninth grade. This was when Rennie and Kat and I were still friends. But this happened on a day when it was just Rennie and me.
There was a new boy scooping ice cream. He was there for the summer, but he looked young like us; he couldn’t have been older than fifteen. He had dirty-blond hair and a small mouth, and he was wiry, but you could tell he’d be tall and strong one day. I’d seen him twice already, and both times I made Nadia go in front of me so he could be the one to take my order. I liked his dimples, and I liked how careful and precise he was with the ice cream scooper. All of his scoops came out perfect.
That afternoon there was a lull. I was trying to decide between strawberry basil ice cream or blueberry sorbet, and I was working up the nerve to ask if I could try a sample of both, when Rennie leaned on the freezer and asked him, “How old are you?”
Rennie had been doing that a lot this summer—talking to boys we didn’t know, boys who were on the island for the week, the month, the summer at most. Kat would join in sometimes, but it always made me feel shy.
His head jerked up; he’d been wiping the counter. “Why?”
“Because I know for a fact that you have to be sixteen to work here, and you don’t look sixteen.” She said it in her ballbustery way, but with flirty eyes. The Rennie signature move. Rennie was so confident, even then, that he’d want to talk to her, that he’d be intrigued by her gutsiness and attitude.
“How old do you think I am?” he asked her.
“Fifteen, tops,” she said. “So how old are you?”
“Fifteen,” he admitted. “I got the job because my uncle owns the place. I’m here for the rest of the summer. How old are you?”
“Fourteen,” Rennie said.
He finally looked over at me. I’d been staring into the glass freezers, my arms wrapped around me, pretending not to listen. “I’ve seen you here before,” he said. “You got blueberry last time, right? With sprinkles?”
I nodded.
On the way home I said to Rennie, “I can’t believe he remembered me.”
She said, “Of course he remembered you. There are, like, no Asians on the island.”
I looked at her to see if she was joking, but she was already onto the next thing. It was true that there were hardly any other Asian families on the island. But she’d never brought it up before. My being different from her.
She hooked up with him later that week. It was on a day that I was at the barn. She got mad because I told her I couldn’t go to the beach because I had a horseback-riding lesson. I don’t remember the boy’s name. I couldn’t even get mad about it, because what would I have done with him? It’s not like I would have made out with him on the docks like she did. I wasn’t allowed to go on dates.
The thing I remember about it was how it made me feel when she assumed the only reason he would remember me was my Asianness. Like there was nothing else special or worth remembering about me. The idea prickled under my skin and stayed there for a long time.
* * *
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
* * *
KAT
LIL MENTIONED SOMETHING ABOUT MAYBE hanging out this weekend, but I was still surprised when she texted today asking if Mary and I wanted to sleep over. That was something totally new. I texted back sure, why not, and I dug my sleeping bag out of the garage. I think the last time I went to an actual sleepover was back in the day when I was friends with Rennie.
Pat couldn’t drop me off. Our car was busted again. There were a few guys in our garage. Most of them were drinking. Ricky wasn’t. “Okay. Guess I’ll walk.”
I’m about halfway down the driveway when Ricky comes after me.
“I was actually about to head out, so I can give you a ride if you want.”
I stare him down. “Thanks but no thanks.” I don’t need the charity.
“Kat, wait.”
“What, Ricky?” I make sure I sound bored, uninterested.
“You’re ignoring me. Why? Because I wouldn’t kiss you?”
Damn. He doesn’t beat around the bush. Well, neither will I. “What makes you think I wanted to kiss you? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Ricky laughs. “Um, you pushed me against the wall and you were about two seconds from eating my face off.”
I sneer. Who does this asshole think he is? “You must have been dreaming.”
“Look. Do you want me to come clean?”
I stop walking and spin around. “Speak.”
“I do like you. I’ve liked you for a while.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Ricky makes a half turn to the garage. “It’s Pat, okay? I tried to come correct, tell him how I felt about you, but he told me to step off.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to make those decisions?”
“He wasn’t saying it to be a dick. But you know, you’re applying to that fancy college, and I don’t think he wants anything to distract you. Plus, he’s my friend. If he draws that line, I ain’t going to cross it.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, what would we have together? A few months, tops? And then you’d leave? I don’t want to . . . you know, fall for you any worse than I already have.”
Okay, seriously. That is sweet of Pat. But also, what the hell is he doing, sticking his big nose into my affairs? He can’t bother to pick his shit up around the house, but he needs to weigh in on who I can and can’t hook up with?
In some ways it’s a blessing in disguise. ’Cause I like Ricky, but I for sure haven’t fallen for him. Not the way he’s talking about.
I give him a peck on the cheek. “Friends?”
He looks glum, but he offers up a weak smile. “Yeah. Friends.”
* * *
Mary’s waiting on the steps when Ricky drops me off.
“Hey,” I say. “Why are you outside?”
“Hey, yourself,” Mary says, cocking her eyebrow. “I don’t think Lil’s home. I’ve been knocking forever, but she hasn’t answered.”
“Huh.”
I ring the bell and a few seconds later Lil throws the door open and offers a tired smile. “Hey, guys.” She’s wearing a big Harvard sweatshirt and leggings and thick socks. No makeup. Her hair up in a towel. Guess she was in the shower.
We come inside, and it takes me forever to unlace my combat boots. Taking shoes off and on is annoying. The people in my family will pass out in bed with their shoes on.
When I’ve finally got them off, Lillia leads us through the foyer to the kitchen. I lift myself onto the marble kitchen island, and Mary sits at the table.
“So how’d it go last night?” Mary asks.
Lillia tugs on the sleeves of her sweatshirt so her hands disappear inside. “Not awesome. You guys, there’s no way we’re making it to New Year’s Eve. I . . . I think it’s over.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve said that, like, ten times, Lil!”
Lillia shakes her head defiantly. “It’s different this time. I think Reeve was jerking me around me from the start.”
Mary folds her arms. “No way. He’s in love with you, Lil. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Mary, he’s been playing me the same way he played you! And you were right to be worried about seeing him and Rennie at the theater.” She yanks at her hair. “God, I was so stupid.”
“All right, all right,” I say. “What happened? Did he not show
up to the party?”
“No, no. He came. And things were going well . . .”
“And?” Mary leans forward, looking tense as hell.
Lillia’s face turns pink. “See, we had this talk the other day. About taking things public. Letting our friends know we’re together. He was the one who was pushing for it!” She bites her bottom lip. “So when I saw an opportunity last night, I went for it. In front of everyone. Alex. Rennie. Everybody.”
Wow. I have to hand it to Lil. She really is all in. Girl went the extra mile.
“But then he freaking denies me. He leaves me hanging in front of everyone!” Lillia turns to Mary, her eyes wide. “All night I thought about you, Mary. And that day on the ferry. How humiliated you must have been.” She shakes her head. She can’t even finish her thought.
“And he pulled the same exact shit with you,” I say.
“Pretty much.” Lillia bites her bottom lip. “And then, to add insult to injury, Rennie pretended someone put something in her drink so Reeve had to take her home. He said he was going to come back, but then he didn’t.”
That for sure sounds like a Rennie move. And then I wonder—will Lil feel weird about Rennie coming over to my house yesterday trying to make amends? I’m about to tell her about it, but like a downplayed version minus the tears, when Mary says, “Rennie’s a witch.”
Lillia looks like she still can’t believe it. “I don’t even care about Rennie. Reeve’s a world-class manipulator. Every single thing that comes out of his mouth is a lie.” She swallows. “Not that I haven’t been lying too, obviously. But if this whole thing had been for real, I could’ve gotten hurt, you know?” Then she lets out a long sigh. “The way I tried to defend him to you guys that day in the bathroom. God, he totally had me fooled!”
“Player got played,” I say, nodding. “Damn.”
To Mary, Lillia says, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make this happen for you. I tried, though. I really, really did.”
It’s weird, but I swear Mary actually looks relieved. “Lillia, don’t talk like that,” Mary protests. “I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done. It couldn’t have been easy for you to pretend the way you did for so long.”
Lillia’s eyes flutter. “Whatever. It’s no skin off my back.” And then she downs the rest of her drink.
Mary tugs on a lock of her hair. “I can’t believe it. Things were going so well. The kiss in the parking lot . . .”
“I know,” Lillia says. “He even invited me to his family’s open house tomorrow.”
“Wait, Reeve invited you to his open house?” This is the first I’m hearing of this. “I used to go to that shit back in the day.”
“Yeah, well, clearly that’s not happening.” Leaning her elbows up against the counter, Lillia asks, “What is an open house anyway?”
“People in the neighborhood stop by and kick it throughout the day.” I pick at my nails. “My mom and dad took me a couple of times. You watch football, trim the tree, eat food.” Then I look up and say, “Yo, it would seem to me that if Reeve’s inviting you to this, it’s a BFD. How many girls do you think he’s ever introduced to his mom?”
“I’ve met his mom before,” Lillia says. “We’ve hung out at his house plenty of times.”
I wave her off. “Yeah, but this would be in the context of, ‘Mom, Dad, Grandma, Uncle Chris, Aunt Linda, this is the girl I’m seeing.’ I doubt he’s ever done that before.” Lil opens her mouth to argue and I add dreamily, “Reeve’s mom is a bomb-ass cook. . . . Every year she makes this sick chowder with scallops and all kinds of seafood. Like shrimp, clams . . . Speaking of which, do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”
Lillia rummages around her fridge. “I’ve got leftover pizza, Brie, hummus.”
“I’ll take some Brie,” I say. I never say no to cheese.
“What about you, Mary?” Lillia asks, setting a wedge of Brie on a wooden cutting board. She goes to the cupboard and brings back a box of water crackers and a jar of Nutella.
“I’m not hungry,” Mary says, keeping her head down. “I just can’t believe it’s over.”
Me either. I would have bet my life on the fact that Reeve liked her. Then again, I wasn’t here last night.
Lillia rolls her eyes. “It is what it is. And I’m glad it’s over with. Now I don’t ever have to be nice to Reeve Tabatsky again for the rest of my life.” She picks up the remote. “Let’s watch a movie, something girly.”
I groan and Lillia throws a pillow at my head.
* * *
We’re in Lillia’s room, listening to music and talking. It’s getting late; it’s almost two in the morning.
Mary’s lying on the floor with her blond hair fanned out around her. Abruptly she says, “Do you guys think Rennie and Reeve hooked up last night?”
Lillia shrugs. “Probably.”
“Why?” Mary wants to know.
“Psh, Reeve is a man whore,” I say. “So, yeah, more like definitely.”
Delicately, Lillia dips her finger into the jar of Nutella. “You have to be careful, Mary. Promise me that you won’t just hook up with some random guy unless you know you can trust them.”
I roll my eyes and take a swig of my beer. “Chill out. Mary’s still in the V club like you, so don’t you worry.”
Lillia goes still all of a sudden. Her face is white.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. “What did I say?”
Lillia shakes her head. She looks like she’s going to cry.
“It’s okay,” Mary whispers. “You don’t have to say.”
Lil’s voice comes out strangled. She can’t even look at us. “I’m not a virgin anymore. I—I lost it to some guy I didn’t even know.”
I’m sort of in a state of shock. Lil? Hooking up with a rando? “For real? You? I could never picture you hooking up with a random dude. I thought you were saving it till marriage!”
Tears start rolling down her cheeks, and I feel like a dirtbag. Mary gives me an admonishing look, and I shrug back helplessly. What’s wrong with me? Why do I always say the first stupid shit that pops into my head?
“I was saving myself,” Lillia chokes out. “Maybe not till marriage, but at least for someone I loved. Someone who loved me.”
I reach out and give her leg a sympathetic squeeze. “My first time sucked too, Lil. It was in this guy’s basement, and his mom kept banging on the door because she wanted him to mow the lawn.”
Lillia cries harder. Her shoulders shake, and her hair covers her face.
I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. Hurriedly I add, “You know what? I think that even if it’s with someone you love, the first time still basically sucks.”
“But—I don’t even remember it,” Lillia weeps. “I was too drunk. I didn’t even want to do it. I—I kept calling out Rennie’s name for help, but she didn’t answer.”
Mary and I look at each other in horror. Oh my God. “Lil, that was rape,” I say. “That wasn’t just a bad first time. That was straight-up rape.”
She’s shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t, like, push him off me.”
“You didn’t push that effer off because you were too drunk!” I yell.
The louder I yell, the quieter Lil gets. Her voice sounds feeble when she says, “He was drunk too. I don’t even know if he heard me say no, that’s the thing.” She’s curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, her hair falling around her face. “I doubt he thinks it was rape. I don’t even know if I think it was rape. I went upstairs with him; I kissed him back; I let him do all that stuff.”
“Lil, if you weren’t in your right mind to say yes, that means it was rape, I’m telling you! That’s like the very definition of rape!” My blood is boiling; I can literally feel it boiling. I jump up and start pacing around. I’m going to take this guy down. “What’s his name? Tell me his name, and I’ll go over there right now with my boys.” Pat would come; so would Ricky. I can get a whole posse together. I’ll
get my old baseball bat out and smash this guy’s whole house to smithereens—
“Kat, sit down,” Mary says, fixing her blue eyes on me.
I’m startled by how firm her voice sounds, so I sit my ass down. “We can’t let him get away with it!”
“It’s not up to you,” Mary says. “We do what Lillia wants.”
I open my mouth to argue with her, but then Lillia speaks up. Gratefully she says, “Thanks, Mary. I . . . I appreciate it. And Kat, I appreciate you, too. But what I really want is to forget the whole thing happened. It was a mistake, and it’s over. I don’t want to let it affect me any more than it already has.”
I nod, because I get that. Then I say, “Wait a minute, you called out for Rennie? She was there too?”
“Yeah. It was this summer; we met these two UMass guys on the beach . . . they had a party.” Lillia swallows. “We drank a lot, I don’t really remember much of what happened after we went upstairs with them. But Rennie was in the room with me; she had sex with her guy too. We left before they woke up.”
“So was Rennie raped too, then?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if what happened was rape, or if things just went too far, or what. Rennie and I never really talked about it again after that night.” She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeve. “I can’t even believe I’m telling you guys this.”
“We’re your friends,” Mary says, crawling closer to her. “You can tell us anything.”
“But shouldn’t we . . .” I hesitate. “Call the cops or something? Report the guy?”
“There’s no evidence,” Lillia says. “I didn’t get a rape kit done. I didn’t have any bruises on my body. It would be his word against mine, and I don’t want to go through that. I don’t want my parents to have to go through that. I don’t want them to ever know that happened to me.” She lifts her head and meets Mary’s eyes. “I want them to still see me the same way. You know what I mean?”
Mary nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Lil, maybe you should talk to someone,” I say, and I feel like the world’s biggest hypocrite, because it’s not like I’m some big believer in talking out my feelings. But this is serious. “Like, I don’t know, a counselor. Or a therapist. Not Ms. Chirazo, but a legit therapist, someone with a degree, someone who knows their shit. Maybe they can help you.”