Meadow Perkins, Trusty Sidekick

by A. E. Snow

  “New York.” She tried to look demure. “I got into a musical theatre summer program for high school students.”

  “That’s great.” I was happy but only because she’d be gone all summer.

  “Then my parents are taking us to Spain,” she said.

  Brag, brag, brag.

  “Oh . . . cool.” Emilia raised her eyebrows in expectation as she waited for me to gush about how great an actress she was and how lucky she was to be spending a month in Spain. I didn’t.

  “I have to go sing. Just cheer up okay?” Emilia’s brows furrowed in what I assumed was fake concern. I couldn’t believe this person had been my friend two weeks ago. Had she always been such a jerk? Emilia flounced off without even wobbling on her heels.

  It was nearing that portion of the evening when voice majors serenaded us while canapés were passed around. I checked my watch. Only eight-thirty. Hours left to go.

  I jumped when I noticed Alejandro standing right next to me, holding a drink as though he expected me to take it. I did. White wine disguised by a plastic cup.

  I tried to look cool, and smiled up at him as I took a teensy sip.

  Emilia took the stage with a jazz ensemble, also students at HSA. Everyone turned to pay attention when she started to sing “I Cover the Waterfront.” Billie Holiday. I love Billie Holiday. Emilia has an amazing voice, of course. I blew my bangs out of my eyes, annoyed that she chose a favorite song of mine.

  She sang with passion. My heart hurt just listening to the emotion in the song. No teacher would ever tell her that she “didn’t want it.”

  Why didn’t she understand how very high maintenance she was? For instance, two years ago Alejandro got super-hot and Emilia set her sights on him. I hadn’t been allowed to like him, even from a distance. Well, you can’t stop someone from liking who they like, but I’d never been allowed to say it again after the first time. I hadn’t realized she’d had a crush on him too. She said she liked him first but had never said anything. When I’d said I thought he was cute, she’d narrowed her eyes at me and gone after him with great persistence. Eventually he’d come around, probably because he didn’t know what else to do. If Emilia wanted something, she got it, whether the thing she wanted wanted to be gotten or not. I had trouble remembering why I’d ever hung out with her in the first place. She used to be really funny. And if she liked you, and you don’t have anything she wanted, she would go to bat for you . . . and you didn’t go up against Emilia. It was easier when we were younger. She hadn’t been so preoccupied then.

  I stood next to Alejandro, watching her sing. Neither of us said anything. I thought he’d forgotten about me, but then he brushed his arm against mine and it was electric.

  I almost died when he moved closer. I glanced over at him, trying not to be awkward. He watched Emilia. Yet his fingers brushed against mine. Confusion and exhilaration made me dizzy.

  I returned my gaze to Emilia. She closed her eyes as she sang the last line.

  The room erupted in applause just as Alejandro grabbed my elbow. “What’s back here?” he said, nodding toward my mom’s room.

  I glanced around. Mom was way on the other side of the room. Alejandro pulled me behind the curtain and down the hall while I quietly died.

  Mom’s room was pretty dark with only a small lamp on that didn’t provide much light. But through her window, we could see the Bay Bridge leading to the San Francisco, all lit up.

  “Wow.” Alejandro walked over to the window then turned back to face me. “Is this your room?”

  I shook my head. “It’s my mom’s.”

  “Some view.” He smiled.

  “Yup,” I said and immediately regretted it. Who says “yup?” Me, that’s who.

  I shifted my weight from one leg to another. I felt self-conscious even though Alejandro was facing the other direction.

  “Hey,” Alejandro said suddenly and turned, startling me.

  “Yeah?”

  He came a little closer than I expected. “Emilia . . . what she did sucked and I’m really sorry, for what it’s worth.”

  “Does everyone know?” I asked.

  “No, not everyone,” he said in a way that made me think everyone knew.

  I sighed and dropped my head, biting my lip in an attempt to preempt any crying.

  “Hey,” Alejandro said again, really softly. I looked up at him. “Don’t cry. No one will remember any of this when we get back to school.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I’m not going back. No way, no how.

  “We should probably return to the party.” He walked over to the door and looked back over his shoulder.

  “I’m right behind you,” I said, but I sat down on the bed instead as he disappeared through the door and down the hall. I wasn’t stupid enough to come walking out of a dark hallway leading to a bedroom at the same time as an extremely beautiful boy.

  Even though nothing had happened, I doubted Emilia would approve. Not that I particularly cared. Finally, I slipped through the curtain. The party was still going on exactly as it had been before. I didn’t see Alejandro or Emilia, but I did see a blonde bombshell who liked like the girl from across the street. She stood next to the guy that I assumed was her dad. My mom spotted me and waved me over.

  I walked over as slowly as possible and tried to appear somewhat cool and collected.

  “Meadow!” my mom chirped. “Do you remember Isla and her father, Robert?”

  Isla had lived across the street when we were kids. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, hi.” I did a weird half wave. I never knew what to do with my hands when I was self-conscious.

  Isla smiled graciously. “Nice to see you again.”

  Why didn’t I think of saying that?

  “Isla and Robert have just moved back from Santa Fe,” Mom said. “I ran into them this morning when I was getting the mail and invited them. I’m so glad you decided to come.” She touched Robert’s arm.

  Is mom flirting? How weird. I plastered a smile on my face. “That’s great.”

  Isla was beautiful and tall and blonde and looked older than 17. She had on a white button-up men’s style shirt and pale pink lacy shorts. She ran her hand through her perfect beach hair, which fell in soft, messy waves down her back. She looked like she’d come straight from the beach. Only the glamorous beach, where people wore diamond earrings and hair jewelry, not the beach I usually went to where I put my salty, wet hair into a bun to keep it from dripping and frizzing. A chunky necklace made of huge, colorful jewels peeking out from behind the collar of her shirt.

  Immediately, I became self-conscious of my dress. How did Isla pull off lace shorts when I was still wearing dresses that looked like they belonged to a seventh grader? At least my hair looked good.

  Now that I was out in the open, everywhere I looked, there were people from school. I glanced around avoiding eye contact with my teachers and “friends.” The room got too small and closed my eyes tightly for a moment.

  “Excuse me,” I blurted and rushed out the door into the pool area.

  A couple of people stood around the sculptures discussing them. “The curves are so organic. This one looks like it just rose up out of the earth.”

  I recognized the sculpture teacher bragging on my grandfather’s work. I slid behind her into the dark like a ghost then sat down in a lounge chair on the far side of the pool. Trees and darkness hid me from view. Behind the trees, a winding path led to the studio which was built to look like a barn. My grandfather had also built it years ago and it had been his studio as well. It was a beautiful building full of windows. The studio was even more carefully planned out than the house. For years, Mom had worked downstairs and Granddad had been upstairs.

  I froze when I heard Mr. Egan’s voice from right behind the trees. He said something a
bout “perfect light.” I hunkered down in my chair and tried really hard to be invisible. My heart thumped in my chest and I put my hand over it as though that would slow it down. “I just wish we had that kind of light in the painting studio at HSA.” After I saw him walk in the house and in the opposite direction of where my mother still chatted up Isla’s dad, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I watched the party from the safety of the lounge chair. Twist leaned against the wall by the windows. She took her phone out of her clutch, checked it and frowned, tucking it back in her purse.

  Isla pointed at a painting on the wall, gesturing, like she got it. My mom nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed by her observation.

  I didn’t see Alejandro or Emilia anywhere. Despite the chill in the air, I stayed curled up in the lounge chair on the edge of the party. Like always.

  After a bit, I let my eyes close and listened to the laughter and music spilling out of the house. I said another little prayer that Mr. Egan and my mom wouldn’t cross paths.

  My eyes popped open when I heard footsteps coming down the stone path from the studio. Isla emerged from the tree-lined path, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail and letting it flop over her shoulder. She smiled slightly and waved. I was happy to note that it was kind of a dorky wave.

  “Can I sit?” she asked as she got closer.

  “Sure,” I said and motioned her over.

  “Long time,” she said. The pool was lit from the inside and cast a blue/green glow over her.

  “Yup.”

  “So what’s it like now?” she asked.

  “What’s what like?”

  “Is it different? What’s it like to be seventeen here?”

  I felt like an idiot. She was totally asking the wrong person.

  “Umm,” I said, “I don’t know really.”

  “So, like, you don’t know where the party is tonight?” She sounded a little disappointed, I could tell.

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “I’m not really much of a party person.” Especially this summer.

  “Well, we’ll just have to find out.” Her smile lit up the dark.

  “So welcome back,” I said. “I’m sorry that I can’t be your social ‘in.’”

  Isla laughed. “It’s okay. We should hang.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. And I actually meant it.

  “Give me your phone.”

  I gave her my phone and she programmed her number in. My heart swelled as I had a vision of Isla and I at the beach, shopping, laughing at an inside joke, being my new best friend. Maybe she was a nice person. That would be a nice change.

  “I better go. Dad is probably wondering where I’ve been,” she said, glancing inside where her dad was talking to my mom.

  My mom was practically tinkling she was so tipsy. It was a Hobart fundraising tradition. Isla hadn’t yet made a move to go. I guessed I should try to say something less stupid so she wouldn’t leave thinking I was a weirdo.

  “Want to come over tomorrow?” I asked. “If it’s nice, we can swim.”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said and smiled.

  “Great. How’s afternoon? Like two?”

  She nodded and then stood up and walked toward the house. Once inside, Isla found her dad and they drifted off out of my line of sight.

  I stayed put on the lounge chair just watching the party through the window. Slowly, the crowd dissipated and when the last few people were leaving, I stood up and snuck through the back door to my room.

  Twist lay sprawled on my bed with her arm slung across her face when I got to my bedroom.

  “Uuhhnnggg,” she said.

  “Long night?” I asked.

  “Yes, and where the heck have you been?” Twist uncovered her eyes and squinted at me, eyeliner smudged around her eyes.

  “Here and there,” I said. “Outside mostly.”

  “That’s not fair. Mom’s being really annoying out there.”

  “What’s she doing?” I sat down on the window seat and kicked off my shoes.

  “She was flirting with the new neighbor. It was so embarrassing,” Twist said.

  “I saw. Are you gonna sleep in my bed? If you are, I’m sleeping in the loft.” I rifled through the clothes I’d tossed into the closet when I was “cleaning” my room earlier.

  “I’m already asleep, basically, but you can sleep with me,” she said and rolled over onto her stomach.

  “No way, dude. You sleep like you are dead and it makes me nervous.”

  Twist was already asleep and still wearing her dress. I tiptoed around the room turning off lamps and covering her up with a blanket. My favorite leggings appeared underneath a throw pillow on the loveseat.

  I put on an old, ratty UC Berkeley T-shirt. Both of my parents had gone there and my grandfather taught there. My dad bought me a lot of stuff with UC Berkeley plastered all over it.

  Mom appeared at the door with a champagne twinkle in her eye. “Hi, doll. You going to bed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mr. Egan asked about you. He asked if you were okay and he said he wanted to talk.”

  I froze. “Uh. Talk about what?” I squeaked.

  “He didn’t say. You don’t know what he was talking about?” Mom put her arm around me.

  “Nope.”

  “I’ll call him next week.”

  Caught! I felt like a tiny fish cornered by a shark. “No I’m sure it’s fine. I just got a little upset on the last day of school . . . no big deal. You don’t need to call,” I blurted, not making eye contact with her.

  Mom frowned a little. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Totally sure.” I didn’t think I could handle mom hearing the news that I was a hack. “I don’t want to even think about school this summer.”

  “Okay,” she said, clearly not convinced. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  Mom waved goodnight and wobbled her way down the hall. The light in the main room went off and I fell back against the wall. I closed my eyes tightly as thoughts raced through my head. Disaster. I’m a disappointment to my whole family. What am I gonna do? Is there any way I can transfer without Mom even knowing? Hahahaha. Nope.

  Heaving a sigh, I turned and climbed up the ladder to the loft and flopped down onto the mattress that took up most of the space. The loft was my favorite place in the house but I got little comfort from it, even from the books lining the shelves on either side of the bed. I stared at the shadows passing over the moon through the skylight, unable to sleep.

  “I’m sorry, Granddad,” I whispered.

  Chapter 3

  Crash. Bang.

  The sounds of someone slamming cabinet doors jerked me out of my sleep. With a yawn, I rolled over and peeped through the curtain.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Mom slammed every single cabinet door while she tried to make coffee. She scratched her blond hair leaving it rumpled before shuffling to the dishwasher and pulling out her favorite mug with a scowl. She’s not a morning person.

  I closed the curtain and settled back into bed. No reason to jump up on a Sunday morning in the summer. Besides, Mom needed some time before she would be a fit companion.

  My phone lay on the pillow next to me. I checked but no messages, no texts, no nothing. Nothing interesting on any social media platform. Just waterfalls, kittens, and sunsets . . . carpe diem, blah, blah, blah.

  Instagram offered a little more. Alejandro had posted some stylishly edited photos from last night. I was surprised to see that one of them was of my silhouette next to the pool. My heart thumped. Why was he posting photos of me? It was a pretty cool-looking picture. And I doubted anyone would know that the shadow by the pool was me if they didn’t know, you know? I felt a little pittery inside. Probably he just thought it looked artistic. I
t’s not as if he captioned it “My one true love, Meadow.” In the deep, mean recesses of my heart, I hoped that Emilia saw it and was jealous.

  Later, after Twist had vacated my room and gone home, I stood in my room in front of the mirror, trying to look effortless, cool, and chic. So far, I just looked oddly put together.

  “God. I look stupid.” I took my hair down out of the ponytail and tried it loose. Loose just looked greasy even though I’d washed it that morning. Stupid teenager hair. I put it back up and managed to make it look halfway like my goal which was “I don’t care and I just threw it up and it looks great” cool. But when I checked it from the back, it turned out it really only just looked crappy. Finally, I just braided it and swung it over my shoulder.

  If only every step of my getting ready didn’t require so much work. I finally chose a black one-piece (well, all of my bathing suits were black) with a halter. I had more confidence that the structure of the bust would actually keep my bust inside my suit.

  I returned to the closet and searched for the perfect cover-up.

  Rummaging through piles of clothes on the floor, I got discouraged. “It shouldn’t look like I’m trying to hide something and shouldn’t be an outfit, more of a ‘this old thing?’” I tried old button-up shirt. “Better, sort of.”

  Knock, knock. My mom’s signature police-style banging on the door.

  “Yeah?” I tried to pull on jogging pants while stepping out of the closet. I tripped just as the door burst open.

  “Meadow! Are you okay? I’m heading out to brunch and a matinee. Do you want to go? It’s experimental.”

  I pulled my pants the rest of the way up and snapped the elastic against my waist. Ouch. “Um, no. I think maybe Isla is coming over.” I averted my eyes so I didn’t have to see Mom’s look of sheer delight.