We Can Work It Out

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  How thick was Tracy that she had no idea he liked her?

  Diane decided to test the waters. “I think he’s more excited about helping you.”

  Tracy gestured down at herself. “Well, clearly,” she said, sarcasm oozing from every syllable. “But seriously, I know we let him sit with us at lunch that first day, but he doesn’t really owe us anything.”

  “That’s not it.” Diane looked at Tracy with such intensity, practically willing her to figure it out on her own.

  I decided to press the matter further. “Bruce seems really cool, and he’s cute.”

  Tracy groaned at another beep on her phone. “And he likes to text. A lot.”

  “What do you think of him, Tracy?” I asked.

  She shut off her phone. “I think he needs to get a life.”

  I opened my mouth to say something else but closed it instead. There was no point in trying to push her. Which was funny, because it used to take everything to get Tracy to shut up about a guy. If only Bruce had arrived last semester … although that would’ve meant that Tracy wouldn’t have joined the Club.

  “Tracy! Diane!” Mom called up from the basement. “Can you give us a hand?”

  They went downstairs to help my parents, while I braced myself for an evening of cake, friends, and parental humiliation.

  My parents had certainly outdone themselves this year. And the Club was eating it up.

  A grin was plastered on my face all evening as different members of the Club posed with the Beatles cutouts that would not be making an appearance at Lucy’s wedding. All around the basement were streamers spelling out various Beatles songs, all somewhat related to the Club: “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” “Come Together,” “With a Little Help from My Friends,” “Revolution,” and, of course, “Penny Lane.” I already knew we’d use them next weekend for the Valentine’s Day party (except “Penny Lane,” of course).

  The food was also properly themed: I Am the Eggman deviled eggs, Strawberry Fields salad (spinach tossed with strawberries, goat cheese, and almonds), green apples (in homage to the Beatles record label) sliced up with different dips, and Sgt. Pepperoni pizza (vegetarian pepperoni, in honor of Sir Paul).

  Beatles Rock Band was set up on the TV. Erin finished singing “Something,” backed by Kara, Laura, and Amy.

  Even I had to admit it was pretty awesome.

  “Penny Lane!” Dad gestured me to join him over at the microphone. The guitar started, and before I knew it, Dad and I were entertaining the Club with our harmonizing rendition of “Drive My Car.” It was a song he always used to play at the beginning of any road trip. Or any drive longer than two and a half minutes.

  The basement was filled with bodies jumping up and down to the beat. By the end of the song, everybody was joining in on the “beep beep mm beep beep yeah” refrain.

  When we were finished, Tracy showed me some of the photos on her phone that she’d posted. There was one of me kneeling down with the microphone, singing with such over-the-top intensity, it was hilariously bad.

  “You’ve got to text me that photo so I can send it to Ryan,” I said, knowing that he’d get a kick out of seeing me be so openly dorky.

  Tracy obliged, while I went over to the coffee table to get my phone. When I went to enter my password, I saw I’d missed a few texts. One name stood out over Ryan’s and Rita’s.

  “What’s wrong, Pen?” Tracy asked.

  I gestured at my phone. “Nate texted me. ‘The pics look great, sorry I’m missing the party.’ ”

  Tracy looked around suspiciously. “Who would’ve sent him photos?”

  “I can’t imagine, unless he’s friends with someone who’s tagged in a photo.” My mind started racing. I knew that there was no way anybody in the Club would’ve been friends with him, or kept him as a friend after what had happened between us. “Probably my mom. Did you tag her in any photos?”

  Tracy nodded. “Yeah — I thought she’d like to see them.” Then her face lit up, making it clear that she had a way to fix this. “Mrs. Bloom!” Tracy called out to my mother in her most innocent voice. “Can I see your phone for a minute? I’m trying to send you some photos, but I think there’s a problem with your profile settings.”

  Mom looked over from her Beatles Trivial Pursuit game. “I don’t have one of those fancy phones, Tracy. But I’ll log in on the computer and you can fix it.”

  The three of us headed to the laptop, which was open to the page we’d created for the Club. A week away from the event, we were at nearly one thousand “likes” from all around the world. We already had thirty-four people confirmed for the event, from eleven different cities.

  Mom logged into her profile and pushed the laptop to Tracy. “Thanks for doing whatever you’re doing. I’m so lost on this stuff.”

  As if there was ever any doubt that Mom was tech savvy, she left us with her profile up. Unattended. While I was tempted to post something on her behalf, like, “The Rolling Stones are the best band ever,” we had real business to take care of.

  Tracy went into Mom’s friends section and pulled up Nate. I should’ve looked away, because seeing his profile picture with his arms around two blond girls made me cringe. But he was only on-screen for a few seconds before Tracy swiftly pressed the BLOCK button.

  “Done.” Tracy wiped her hands clean. “I doubt your Mom will even realize it, and if he says something to her, she can honestly plead ignorance.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Why can’t he leave me alone? First a card, now a text …”

  Tracy was perplexed. “He sent you a card?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t I tell you?” I hadn’t really thought about it after I’d torn it up and put it in the trash, where anything Nate-related belonged.

  “Um, let me think.” Tracy was incredulous. “No, I think I’d remember it if you mentioned getting anything from that loser.”

  “Seriously, Tracy, I don’t think it’s humanly possible for me to care any less about it.” Which was one hundred percent true.

  Tracy studied me. “Okay. But are you sure that you’re going to be cool with seeing him in a few weeks?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Which was one hundred percent not true.

  Amy and Jen approached us with Diane in tow. “Hey, guys,” Amy began. “We were talking about next weekend. It’s been a lot of work and we thought it would be fun, and more importantly, relaxing, to do a late brunch the next day. My parents are willing to host.”

  “That would be great,” I said.

  Tracy agreed. “Yeah, especially since we’re expending all this energy on Valentine’s Day, a holiday that’s spoon-fed to the masses solely so greeting card stores, florists, and chocolate companies can profit from desperate guys trying to get some or get out of trouble. It’s really romantic, if you think about it.”

  Amy looked thoughtful. “Do you think we can fit that on a sign for us to hang?”

  Diane had a tight smile on her face. “Ah, Pen, aren’t you supposed to do something with Ryan on Sunday?”

  “Yeah, but we didn’t settle on a time. I’ll make it later!” I tried to hide my annoyance that Diane felt the need to remind me how to be a better girlfriend. She’d said that spending time with him was enough. I was going to spend time with him.

  Before I could say anything else, the lights went down. The guitar and drums started blaring over the speakers for my birthday song, compliments of my birthday compatriots. My body started instinctually reacting. My shoulders began moving to the beat, and I met my parents in the center of the living room, surrounded on all sides by the Club.

  The three of us started to dance in sync. Our shoulders rolled back and forth during the guitars, and then we switched to our fists pumping to the drumbeat. When it got to the lyrics of “Birthday,” my parents took over and serenaded me, complete with finger-pointing to the rhythm, and bobbing up and down on their heels. I kept dancing, getting excited for my favorite part, when Mom would sing, “Birthday …” and D
ad would shake me and scream-sing, “I would like you to dance!” The way he did it always cracked me up as a kid; it was as if I was going to be grounded if I didn’t obey his command and get down with the Fab Four.

  Since the choreography wasn’t that complex, most of the Club joined along in the shoulder rolling, bobbing, and fist pumping. Much to my horror, Tracy was recording the entire thing. And she was never one to respond to threats.

  But I happily danced through the song. And when it was over, the cake was brought out. It was shaped like a drum with the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band logo on it.

  “What do you think, kiddo?” Dad asked as he held up the cake for me to blow out the candles.

  “Perfection,” I remarked. And it was.

  My parents and friends surrounded me as I blew out the candles. My wish wasn’t for the Club to continue to grow; I knew that it didn’t need any magical interference for that to happen.

  I only had one thought, one wish that evening. And it surprised me as it popped into my head on that fun, memorable birthday.

  I wish Ryan were here.

  WHILE WE COULD’VE USED THE FRIDAY night before Valentine’s Day to finish the party prep, we decided to take our minds off of it by going to the girls’ varsity basketball game.

  “Go, Jen!” Tracy screamed as Jen scored an easy layup.

  “Do you think we have enough refreshments?” I asked as I looked over the growing RSVP list. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to completely banish tomorrow night’s responsibilities from my mind.

  “It’s going to be great, Pen,” Tracy assured me. “I don’t think these girls are driving a couple hours for the soda selection.”

  Meg came up the bleachers and sat down next to us. “Hey, guys, did I miss anything?”

  Tracy motioned to the scoreboard, where it informed Meg that the score was 6 to 2. Meg nodded and then looked at me. She opened her mouth, closed it, then went back to watching the game. Her leg was shaking nervously.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said, then shook her head. “No, I mean, it’s okay, but I have some bad news.”

  “Oh, no, what’s going on?”

  “I got off the phone with my manager and he needs me to work tomorrow night. I know it’s short notice, but at least I don’t have to work until five, so I can come and help set up. I put myself in as a reserve for the dinner shift because I can make so much more in tips on Valentine’s Day. I never really thought I’d get called. I’m really sorry to bail on the Club, but I had to pay for part of my tuition deposit for next year.”

  Meg held her breath. Did she really think I was going to yell at her?

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I think we’re good. You’ll be missed, but we completely understand.”

  Relief flooded over her face. “Thanks. I’ve never missed a meeting before and it’s such a big one.”

  It was a big one, but part of me couldn’t believe all these people coming to the meeting were legitimate. In my experience, when something seemed too good to be true, it was.

  Meg gestured two rows behind us. “Erin’s saving me a seat, so I better go. See you tomorrow!” She maneuvered herself back.

  Tracy stood up abruptly. “Come on, ref! Unbelievable!” She groaned and shook her head. We were in the lead and still had three quarters to go, but Tracy liked to pretend that every game was the Super Bowl or World Series or whatever was a big deal in basketball. It probably wasn’t too shocking to imagine that sports were never a big part of the Bloom household.

  “Oh!” Tracy exclaimed. “I got it!” She turned to me, and I was convinced she was about to start going on and on about some play the team should be doing. Instead, I was taken aback when she asked, “How much did we raise at the karaoke thing last year?”

  “I think around three grand. Jen would know for sure.” I looked down in pride at the team’s new uniforms, paid for by the fund-raiser the Club put together. “Why?”

  “Well, I’m sure the other seniors in the Club probably have similar problems. Maybe we should do a Lonely Hearts Club scholarship or something?”

  “That’s brilliant.” It would be a lot of work, but Tracy was right. We could do something to help benefit one of the members of the Club. I put it down in the Club notebook I’d been carrying around, with all the tasks we had to do for the party.

  It was something we could deal with after tomorrow night. I couldn’t handle adding anything extra to my to-do list before then. I hadn’t even figured out what to do with Ryan on Sunday. I’d been hoping that I’d have some divine inspiration at some point. But so far, nothing.

  Diane was put in and the Club section cheered loudly for her. She was on defense when a player from the other team knocked her over.

  “I’ll see you outside, number twenty-four!” Tracy screamed. A few of the parents from the visitors section looked concerned.

  “Maybe you should take it down a notch?” I suggested.

  “What to the evs. I’m not going to stay silent when someone knocks one of my friends down.”

  Now, that was something we should use for a sign.

  I found it ironic that Tracy was in charge of the decorations and signs when in fact she could not see the big sign that was in front of her.

  “Is this okay?” Bruce balanced on a step stool as he put up the “Revolution” sign. “Or do you want me to put it somewhere else?”

  Tracy studied the placement, then scanned the other signs posted around the rec center. “Looks good,” she stated, much to Bruce’s delight.

  He jumped down from the stool. “Great! What else can I do to help? Anything you need! I’m also available for birthdays and bar mitzvahs. You know, I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good dancer … if you need a partner.” He laughed nervously.

  “Uh-huh.” Tracy looked down at her to-do list. “I think we’re good. Pen!” she shouted even though I was only a few feet away. “What else do we need done? The Koala Kid needs something to do.”

  The rec center was coming together nicely. We only had two hours to move some of the equipment to the side, then set up the decorations, tables, chairs, food, and music. I went to the front where people were going to check in. We’d put a red tablecloth on the folding table, but it was still missing something.

  I was staring at the table as if the answer would magically appear, when Ryan walked in the door with a vase of roses in his hands.

  “That’s exactly what I needed!” I exclaimed.

  “Well, it’s about time you realize that.” He gave me a sly grin before handing me the roses and planting a quick kiss on my lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

  I took the roses from him. “They’ll look great here.” I placed them on the table and stepped back. “Perfect.”

  “And here I thought you were showing appreciation to your boyfriend for bringing you roses.”

  “Huh?” I said before it sank in that those roses weren’t decorations for the party, they were for me. “Oh, sorry, yes, thank you!”

  He shook his head. “You’re welcome.” He ran his fingers through his freshly washed hair. Ryan had been working all day at the center and had stepped out to take a quick shower and freshen up. “You guys got a lot done. The place looks great.”

  “Really?” I was worried that the fluorescent lights and the chlorine smell from the adjacent pool weren’t setting the right mood. But then again, we were going to be a bunch of dateless girls on Valentine’s Day — a super-romantic vibe wouldn’t have been that appropriate.

  “Really. I think it makes perfect sense that you’d have the event here. I remember seeing you here at PARC when we were younger. You were a little leader even back then.”

  I spent a couple days a week at the rec center after middle school; the majority of our class did. But I didn’t really hang out with Ryan then. He was usually outside playing on the basketball court.

  “What do you mean, I was a leader? I think I may ha
ve played with you once — and that was only because it was raining outside.” I tried to recall any instances when I would’ve been bossy to Ryan as a kid.

  “You put yourself in charge of handing out the play instruments, and of course the band had to play Beatles songs. Diane used to follow you around and do whatever you said. You two were inseparable.”

  My heart warmed at the memory of me and Diane upstairs in the band room, pretending to be little rock stars. “We really were,” I commented. So much of my childhood recollections centered around Diane. And here we were nearly ten years later, still together — thanks to The Lonely Hearts Club.

  “Penny.” Laura approached us with her phone in her hand. “We’ve had two more back out.”

  The RSVPs had gotten to fifty-one, but people had started dropping out the last couple days. I was worried that all of this work would be for nothing. Maybe nobody but Club members would show up.

  “So how many is that, then?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  Laura began counting. “We’re at forty-three guests. With the Club and our guests, we’ll be at nearly eighty people.”

  “Paging Miss Penny Lane.” Diane’s voice boomed out from the microphone we’d brought in from Erin’s karaoke machine. “We need you to do a sound check.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows went up. “Sound check? I didn’t realize we’d be serenaded.”

  I groaned. “No singing from me, thankfully. But a few of us are going to talk.” I reluctantly went over to the microphone. “Testing … testing …” I tapped the microphone. “Good evening, Parkview!” My voice echoed out into the large concrete space.

  I handed the mic back to Diane. “Seems to be working fine.” I reached into my back pocket for the index cards that had some notes for my speech. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

  Diane nodded. “Yes, so does Tracy. Don’t worry, you won’t be up there alone.”

  As I looked around the room at the Club members working in tandem with my parents, Diane’s mom, Tracy’s parents, and the boyfriends (including one boy hoping to be more than a friend), I knew there was no way I’d feel lonely on this Valentine’s Day.