The Retake

by Jen Calonita

  “Yes. Does it look okay?”

  Taryn turned on the hair dryer and rolled her bangs around my brush. I could barely hear her over the noise. “Yeah, just don’t…”

  “Don’t what?” I shouted, pulling at my tee. Was it too short? Too baggy? Were the jeans wrong? Did my new braces make my face look rounder? What was it? What?

  “Taryn! Three minutes till your bus!” Mom shouted.

  Taryn dropped the brush and the blow-dryer. “Enjoy seventh grade.” She laughed in a mad-scientist kind of way that made me think she knew I wouldn’t.

  “Zoe! Come eat something!” Mom yelled from the kitchen.

  “Mooooom.” Now I sounded like Taryn.

  I ran downstairs and found Mom ready to walk out the door. The kitchen table was littered with dishes. Dad left an hour earlier than Mom to teach social studies at a high school thirty-five minutes away, while Mom taught at an elementary school right in our district. Usually, no one cleaned up breakfast till after school. Mom offered me a bagel.

  “It’s too hard with my braces,” I grumbled. I missed bagels so bad already, and it had only been a week.

  Mom offered me a peach instead. “This is softer.”

  True, but not appealing. I was too nervous to eat.

  “Zoe, you need something,” Mom pushed. “You don’t have lunch till fifth period.”

  “Fine.” I accepted the peach and sat down, taking a small bite and holding the peach in one hand while I scrolled through Instagram with my free one. Laura was doing a live video with the drama queens. They appeared to be doing their own version of Carpool Karaoke.

  “Zoe? Zoe?” Mom sounded far away. “Zoe?” She put her hand over my phone screen, and I looked up. She wasn’t smiling. “Be present, please.”

  “Mom!” It was my mother’s favorite phrase these days: be present. Stop documenting every moment of your life, aka put away your phone. My parents didn’t allow phones at the dinner table. There was a no-phones rule during family movie night, and no phones were allowed when we were in a restaurant. Even at home Mom was constantly complaining that Taryn, me, and even our dad were glued to our devices twenty-four seven. When I’m sitting in front of you, I want to see your face, not you looking down at your phone, she’d say.

  “It’s the first day of school,” I reminded her. “I’m just looking to see who might be in my classes or on my bus.” I looked up at her, unable to stop myself from making a dig. “Laura isn’t taking it. She got a ride.”

  Last year Mom taught only part-time, so she drove me every day, but this year she had her own classroom and had to leave for school before my bus came. I was happy for her and all, but I was not thrilled about taking the bus. I had no clue who was even on my route. What if I had to sit alone every day? That would be the worst.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said, and I felt bad. “Are you sure you don’t want to get to school early and just go with me now?”

  It was a nice offer, but the thought of standing outside Fairview alone while I waited for anyone I knew to show up sounded even worse than the bus. “No. It’s okay, but thanks. You go and impress those second graders.”

  “Okay.” Mom smiled and removed her hand from the top of my phone and looked at me hopefully. “Have you spoken to Laura?”

  Why did I say Laura’s name? “I…Yes.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I had texted her. Mom kept asking me what was going on with us, but I couldn’t tell her Laura dropped me. She’d go running to Laura’s mom again, and that would only make things worse.

  “Oh good!” Mom played with her school ID, which was hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “Laura may not be on the bus, but Dianne said she has lunch fifth period, too, so at least you’ll have someone to sit with.” Mom hesitated. “She hasn’t been over lately. Did something happen at the party?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “Okay. It’s just that I know it was awkward seeing her there with other friends. But Dianne said—”

  Time to change the subject. “Go! You can’t be late,” I reminded her.

  “You’re right!” Mom grabbed her bag and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Make sure you lock up, and have a great day!”

  “I will!” I lied.

  I didn’t have high hopes as I walked to the bus stop ten minutes later. It was only three houses down, so I could already see a group of boys waiting. Dougie Hoffman was one of them. He thought he was hilarious (he kind of was). There wasn’t a single girl at the stop. I avoided eye contact, pulled out my phone, and scrolled through Instagram again. My posts were looking really sad and lonely. My last one was a picture of my plate with a giant red lobster and an ear of corn on it.

  zonuts: Last lobster of the summer! Boo! #lobsters #Ilovesummer

  Seriously, Zoe. That was the best you could come up with? A picture of a lobster?

  It had gotten likes, though, even from Laura. She once told me she likes every photo in her feed, just so she gets likes back. Is that the only reason she liked mine?

  The bus screeched to a halt, and the boys climbed on. I followed.

  “Bus pass?” asked the driver. He was wearing a tee that said “Give Me a Brake.” I guess he was trying to be funny, but he didn’t look like he was in a joking mood.

  In the corners of my mind, I remembered having a conversation with Mom about my bus pass last night, but I was also on the couch watching something on YouTube, so I might not have been paying her enough attention. I quickly checked my backpack pockets, hoping maybe she’d put it in one, but came up empty. My heart pounded. “I forgot it.”

  He sighed and waved me onto the bus. “Make sure you stop at the office and get a new one before you take the bus home.”

  “Thanks,” I said, relieved. Remember to get a bus pass! Don’t tell Mom you forgot it! I told myself as I headed down the aisle. The bus was packed, loud, and smelled like old socks. I held my breath and searched for an empty row.

  “Zoe!”

  I spotted Reagan and Jada waving to me and made a beeline for them. I’d never been so relieved to see them in my life. We hadn’t spoken since Laura’s birthday party. The whole situation was so awkward I didn’t know what to say.

  “You’re alive! Where have you been?” Reagan asked as I slid in across from them. Her light blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a blue-and-orange Sharks tee, which was our school’s mascot. Reagan played for the lacrosse team. The bus bumped along to the next stop. “We haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  “We.” That was a word best friends used to answer as a pair. Unlike Laura and I, summer hadn’t ruined their BFF status. They even had identical teal backpacks for seventh grade.

  “We Snapped you to go to the mall last week after my dance tryouts,” Jada added. She was playing with a strand of her short black hair, which she kept curling and uncurling around her finger. “I made the upper-level team at my studio this year! Hey. Did you get braces?”

  My hand went to my mouth subconsciously. “Yeah. Last week.”

  Jada nodded. “No wonder we didn’t hear from you. When I got mine on, they hurt so much I couldn’t eat for a week.”

  “I’ve been living on shakes,” I said, happy to not have to reveal the real reason I went MIA. Honestly, I didn’t want to see anyone after what happened with Laura. “That’s great about dance. Sorry I didn’t text you guys back.”

  “It’s okay,” Jada said. “We were shopping for back-to-school outfits and wanted you to come. Be honest.” She held up her backpack. Her brown eyes were full of worry. “Is this babyish? Or cute? Because now I’m second-guessing the teal.”

  “I like the teal!” Reagan said. “Zoe, tell her teal is a great color.”

  “I like teal,” I agreed, and Reagan smiled.

  I noticed she was wearing black eyeliner, which made her dark eyes look even darker. Should
I have worn eyeliner too? Was everyone wearing makeup to school in seventh grade? Mom still wouldn’t let me wear more than mascara and lip gloss, even though Laura was allowed. (I assumed. She always had a full face of makeup on in posts.) I was relieved to see Jada didn’t have any eyeliner on.

  “Okay, I was just worried.” Jada frowned. “Laura did a whole Insta story this weekend about middle school dos and don’ts, and her friend Ava said never carry a backpack unless it’s black or brown and don’t join nerdy clubs. Laura is definitely quitting Future City.”

  “Let her quit. Future City is not nerdy,” Reagan snapped, then looked at the two of us nervously. “Okay, maybe some people might think it’s nerdy….”

  “But who cares? We’re still allowed to like it,” Jada said, as if trying to convince herself. “Just like I like this backpack.”

  I held up my old gray book bag. “I didn’t even go shopping for a bag yet. My mom said Taryn bought three in seventh grade because she kept changing her mind on what would work best, so she wanted me to wait. Oh, and I’m sticking with Future City this year too.”

  Reagan beamed. “Did you see Ms. Pepper’s post on the club board last night?”

  “Yes! I think this means we’re going to be creating a clean water program for urban development,” Jada said excitedly. “And the regional competition, if we make it, is in Washington, DC!”

  “I started working on a clean water filter this morning.” It felt good to share the news with someone. Normally I would have told Laura first.

  “Cool!” Jada said. “I did one of those this summer for fun, and…”

  I tuned out, thinking again about Laura. Would she really quit Future City? What if she was right about it being nerdy? Did I really need to start worrying about what people thought of the club I was in? My cheeks flushed.

  “Are you going to volleyball tryouts today?” Reagan asked, and I was pulled from my worries again.

  “Uhhh…yes,” I said, even though my stomach immediately tightened at the thought. I’d been trying to forget about tryouts. They were all Taryn talked about with me. You’d better make the team. I did! I was pulled up to high school level in eighth grade! But what if I didn’t make it? I loved playing, but there were only so many slots on the middle school team. With everything going on with Laura, I’d even forgotten we had tryouts that afternoon. Volleyball tryouts! Today! Remember! I tried to remind myself. Maybe I should write these things down.

  Reagan bit her lip. “I hope we all make it. I really want to play.”

  “You’ll make it. You make every team,” Jada said. “I’m the one who should be worried. I’m short, and that’s a problem in volleyball.”

  “But you’ve got a great serve!” Reagan argued. “I’m the one that messes up whenever I’m the middle hitter. I get nervous.”

  “We’re all going to do fine.” Jada popped a mint into her mouth, then offered us both the container. I took one and let the minty flavor hit my tongue. “What period do you have lunch?”

  “Fifth.” That much I knew off the top of my head. Laura and the drama queens had posted their schedules, and they also had lunch fifth period. I thought again about what Mom said this morning. Should I try to sit with Laura and her friends?

  “Us too!” Reagan said, sounding seriously happy, which made me happy, but also worried because what if there weren’t enough seats for all of us to sit with Laura? Or what if Laura didn’t invite us over? My first day was feeling complicated already, and we hadn’t even arrived at school yet.

  “What period do you have Spanish?” Jada asked.

  I reached in my bag for my schedule…then remembered I’d folded it up and tucked it into my green glitter phone wallet—the wallet I ripped off the case last night because it was identical to the one Laura used. Or used to use. She’d posted a mirror selfie over the weekend, and I noticed right away Laura had gotten a new phone case, and a red sticky wallet with an Annie logo on it. She was slowly replacing our friendship piece by piece. I was so upset I ripped my wallet off too…and now I could clearly see in my mind the schedule still tucked inside and lying on my desk. “I left my schedule at home.” My heart started to pound. “What do I do?”

  “I think they can print it for you in the main office,” Jada said. “I wrote mine supersmall so I could hide it in my notebook. See?” She held up an index card with writing so tiny it could be read only by mice. “That way no one will know I don’t have it memorized yet.”

  “Where is the main office, again?” Reagan asked as the bus stopped at the next stop and three more kids climbed on. It was so loud, I could barely hear Reagan anymore.

  “First floor. I think?” Jada sounded unsure, though. “I never went there last year, but it has to be by the principal’s office.”

  “The principal’s office?” I was going to hyperventilate. “I don’t want to go anywhere near there.” No one wanted to be on Principal Higgins’s radar. She called everyone sweetie, but she was really strict. She was also constantly giving people detention for any minor infraction you could think of.

  “You’re going to be fine! Do you remember any of your classes?” Reagan asked. “What do you have first period?”

  “Math. I think.” I racked my brain. “Or is it social studies? I remember something about a room 132.”

  Reagan perked up. “That’s good! If you know the room number, that has to be where you’re supposed to be first period, because you’d memorize first period first. Right?” I nodded. “What else do you remember?”

  I bit my lip. “Nada.”

  “Find the main office,” Jada said as she tried to apply lip gloss using her camera. The bus hit a bump, and she wound up drawing on her nose. “You have ten minutes before the first bell. You’ll be fine.”

  I had only ten minutes? Why couldn’t this bus go faster?

  “Maybe we’ll have a class together,” Reagan said as a wad of paper flew by her head. There was a sudden stop and then yelling by the bus driver. “If not, at least we’re in lunch, right?”

  “Do you have any classes with Laura?” Jada asked. “If you do, you could text her and ask where to go.”

  I looked away and saw a boy stick gum under his seat. Gross. “I haven’t spoken to her in a while.” Since the birthday party that wasn’t.

  “We haven’t either,” Jada admitted, and I looked at her.

  “Not since the party,” Reagan added.

  As best friends, they usually finished each other’s sentences.

  Laura and I used to do that.

  Jada made a face. “She’s been so…”

  But she didn’t get to finish the thought. The bus ground to a halt in front of the school, and people immediately started filing off. I looked out the window and saw a sea of teachers and crossing guards directing kids past the main doors. Everyone except me looked like they knew where to go. Jada and Reagan followed me off the bus, and I tried to remember to breathe. Go to the main office. The main office!

  “Oh, Zoe, I think you have something on your jeans.” Jada poked me in the butt. “Sorry! Is that mud?”

  “Where?” I tried to swivel to look, but my head didn’t rotate that far. “Nooo! It must be from my experiment this morning.”

  “It’s small,” Reagan said. “I’d rub it, but then I’d be touching your butt, and that would look weird. Just run to the bathroom and wash it off.”

  “She doesn’t have time!” Jada told her. “She has to go to the main office and get her schedule and make it to first period, all in the next ten minutes.” Jada smiled. “You can’t really see it. Just pull your shirt down.”

  I tugged on my tee, stretching it out. I hoped it covered the spot. Why had I worn white?

  There was the roar of an engine, and the three of us looked at the street. A motorcycle pulled up to the curb with two riders. A girl in a purple
helmet climbed off the back.

  “Is that Clare?” Reagan asked.

  “It looks like it,” Jada said.

  I watched Clare swing her leg over the side of the bike and climb off. She removed her helmet and shook out her short brown hair, which was shaved short on one side. The tips of her hair were bright pink. You had to admire a girl who could rock a purple Batgirl tee and cheetah-print leggings on the first day of school. The first bell rang, and she gave us a wave, not even stopping to say hi.

  “We should get to our lockers,” Reagan said, sounding nervous. “My lock keeps getting stuck, so part of me thinks I should just carry my books all day. What if I can’t open the locker later?”

  We were all starting to panic. I couldn’t go to my locker even if I wanted to because the number was written on my schedule! Mom had offered to take me to see my locker last week, but I hadn’t wanted to run into Laura, so we didn’t go. I was already regretting that decision.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Jada said, but as we entered school, her right eye was twitching. “My first class is upstairs. I’ll see you at lunch, Zoe.”

  “Mine too,” said Reagan, consulting her schedule. “See you later.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  “See you!” I said, trying to remain upbeat. I knew I’d been out of school for a few months, but the main office couldn’t be that hard to find. Finally spotting the sign for the office down the hall, I squeezed through a group of girls talking about their summer vacations and darted inside. There was a line of kids already.

  “If you need to print your schedule, it’s going to be a while,” said a woman behind the counter as if she were reading my mind. “The printer is out of ink, and we’re waiting for someone to bring more.” There was a collective groan. “We’ll take you one by one, and you can write it down instead.”

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Clare. “Hey.”