by A. E. Snow
“How lovely!” she beamed, thrilled. “Do you need any money? Are you going out somewhere?”
“We are just going swimming,” I said, gesturing toward the pile of bathing suits on the bed.
“Well, I’ll leave some pizza money just in case.”
“Thanks. When are you coming home?”
Mom slipped a pair of dangly, turquoise earrings in her ears and checked her lipstick in my mirror. “After the show, I’m meeting Joseph at Café Kindness to go over a few business things and Graciella is having a wine and cheese reception tonight. I’ll be in and out probably. But don’t expect me until late.” She stepped over the piles of clothes in my floor until she reached me and kissed my hair. “Be good.” And she was gone.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m always good,” I said to the closed door.
Mom was like that. Very busy, important, and abrupt. She hadn’t always been like that but she hadn’t always owned the most popular gallery in Berkeley either. And she was Twist’s manager. I obviously didn’t need a manager to manage my lack of talent. I felt a little sorry for Twist. Mom was completely overbearing about 80% of the time and the other 20% she was gone. I had no idea who Joseph and Graciella were, none at all.
I heard the front door slam. That was how she always arrived and left, with a slam and a bang.
I decided to leave the old oxford shirt on, but switched out the jogging pants for a pair of shorts and swept piles of discarded clothes into the closet. I wasn’t sure if Isla would be in my room but she definitely didn’t need to see my closet.
I paced around the room nervous about my first friend date. And now we will hang out and see if we can tolerate each other. I mean, it’s really the same principle, isn’t it? I hate making new friends. It’s part of why I have been such a raging success in high school. I come off really awkward and odd before I get to know people. Emilia told me that. I assume it’s true.
My room was decent. I checked my watch, only 11:00 a.m. I was early, as per usual. I was always really early for things. My mom was always running late, so was Twist. When I struggled to get them somewhere earlyish, they said, “Oh we are on Meadow time.” Ha-ha.
I poked around on Instagram until I couldn’t stand seeing pictures of people having awesome summers and going to beach parties any longer.
After an eternity, Isla showed up looking impossibly cool. I always think I look great until I’m standing next to someone that actually looks really great, and then I feel super frumpy. Every single time. I frumpily led Isla through the house and out to the pool. It was a little bit chilly and the pool was freezing. I’d brought out some huge, plush beach towels that my mom always made sure we have around. I handed one to Isla who had taken her white, slouchy V-neck cotton shirt and shorts off to reveal a super-cute bikini, of course. The super-small kind.
“Sorry the weather isn’t better,” I said.
“It’s okay.” Isla smiled. “I don’t mind.”
“Sorry, the water isn’t heated either.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for everything, you know.” Isla sat on the edge and swung her feet into the water.
“Okay. I’ll try not to.” I had to bite my tongue not to add a “sorry.” I took my shirt and shorts off, quickly tossed them to the side and wrapped up in a towel, pretending I was cold.
“Are you having a good summer?” she asked.
“Um. Sort of, I guess.” If you call sitting in the house all day and being a total nerd with zero friends to do anything fun with good.
“Can I ask you something?” Isla asked, and I looked up, startled and nervous about what it could be.
“Are you still friends with Emilia?” Isla quickly lowered herself into the pool. It was cold and I always spent about 20 minutes getting in, the complete opposite of Isla. There were two kinds of people, I guess—those who get in quickly and those who drag it out.
“Not really,” I answered truthfully. “She kind of humiliated me in front of a bunch of people.”
“What did she do?” She knit her brows in concern.
“She just overheard a conversation I had with a teacher and then repeated it to the whole school.” I didn’t go into further detail.
“She was a jerk when we were twelve years old and she’s still one now! People like that never change.” She shrugged.
“Truth. I really hope there aren’t a ton more people out there like Emilia. The earth will get super confused about who it’s supposed to revolve around.”
Isla laughed and dove underwater.
The ice had kind of broken and I felt like I could be more myself. I mean, this person used to be my best friend. Maybe it was actually possible that we still had stuff in common and we could be best friends again, or at least good friends. The Isla I remembered was free and hilarious and impulsive. I was relieved to think that maybe people like that didn’t really change either.
Isla came up for air. “You’re still really funny. I always liked that about you.”
She got out of the pool and we sat for a long time just catching up. Isla had been living in New Mexico with her father. She usually spent the summers with her mother but not this summer. She didn’t say why, but she seemed a little funny about it, and sad to have left Santa Fe.
“Why did you guys move back?” I asked.
Isla stared out over the water. “My dad got a job offer. He’s the new head of the English department at UC Berkeley.”
“Where are you going to school?”
“My dad is a big believer in public school.”
The sun peeped out from behind the clouds.
We were both quiet for a while. I nearly fell asleep and was startled when Isla suddenly asked, “So you really don’t know what people do around here for fun?”
“I guess I don’t hang out with anyone from school. They think I’m a snob.” It was true. I’d heard a bunch of people say it. Snobby is not the same as super shy.
“Don’t you go anywhere with Emilia?”
“Not lately.”
Isla’s eyes widened slightly. “Enough about Emilia. Do you have a boyfriend?”
Uh-oh. If I told her the truth, which was that I hadn’t had a boyfriend since I was in 8th grade, and that didn’t really count, then she might go running and screaming away to find a friend that wasn’t so lame. “No.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It just never seems to work out that way for me.”
“But you like Alejandro!” she accused.
“How can you know that?” I practically screeched.
“I saw how you looked at him last night!”
I let my head fall back on the chair and groaned.
“But I could never have him,” I protested.
“Why not?”
“He’s with Emilia! They’ve been together forever. Sh-She’s my friend!” I stuttered on the last part.
“Oh no she’s not!” Isla was waving her hands at me now. “You hate her! She is insane and demanding and not what a friend is supposed to be. Trust me, you don’t like her and she is not your friend. And are they going to be together forever and ever? Is there a picket fence in their future? It’s very doubtful.”
I laughed. Everything she said was completely true, I just hadn’t been able to say it. I laughed harder.
“What?”
I couldn’t answer her but kept giggling.
Isla just looked at me and shook her head.
When I finally stopped, she stood up and faced me, her hands on her hips. “You deserve better than that. Everyone does. Now we just have to figure out what we are going to do about it.”
“What do you mean? What can we do about Emilia?”
She stood up and stared down at me with her hands on her hips. “No, dummy. About the fact that you are nearly 17 years old and you have zero social life!”
“Oh no! My innocence will be lost!”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes.
Later, we sat at the kitchen table eating pizza when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket expecting it to be Twist or one of my parents.
I must have gasped because Isla scooted her chair over to try and see. “What? Who is it?”
“Alejandro.”
“WHAAAAT?” she screamed in my ear. “What does he want?”
I opened text.
Hey its Alejandro. Want 2 go check out a band 2nite?
I shrieked.
“Yes, you do! Yes! YES!” Isla grabbed my arm and jumped up and down.
“Don’t get so excited! He’s taken,” I said, as much to myself as to her.
“Oh, whatever! Maybe he’s gonna break up with her! Maybe he already did!”
I tried to be textually composed. I didn’t want to sound like a big texting dork, which I was and would likely remain since I used correct grammar and spelling in every text.
Sure. Details? I finally texted back. “Wait! My mom is not gonna let me go if I’m not going with a friend. A friend that’s a girl, I mean. I just got a whole speech about it.”
Isla groaned. “Really? Why not?”
“Girls have to stick together and watch out for one another to avoid being drugged, etcetera.”
“So?”
“What about you?”
“Sure. I’m not busy.”
Can Isla come? I doubted I could do this without some support.
We waited in silence for the next five minutes. I kept checking to see if somehow a ninja-like text had gotten by me in the one second I looked away from the screen. What if I’d turned the ringer off somehow? No, still full volume.
After two eternities, my phone dinged again.
Sure. Meet me at 8 at the shop.
Isla drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my God, we have so much to do,” she said.
“What? It’s like four-thirty.” I couldn’t imagine what we would do for three hours.
I let my head fall forward onto the table with a thud. “Uuuugggh.” I lifted it up to say, “I just hate texting in these situations. There is no information! I can’t try to read the inflection in his voice or ask if Emilia is coming or even know what’s going on.” Whine.
“Yeah, but why would he have texted you to go to a party? Emilia was being such a bitch last night anyway. I think they are breaking up,” Isla said.
“Nope! Not way,” I protested.
After Isla helped me pick out an outfit, she went home to get ready. I had no doubts that whatever outfit she would pick out for herself would automatically be way better than mine.
I paced around the house while I waited. Mom really was in and out. She finally left for the wine and cheese reception. I don’t know how she maintains the pace. It’s very depressing to think that my mother has a more hopping social life than me.
She gave me permission to go to the party during one of her swoops through the house. “Will there be parents there?” she asked, looking up from her purse where she was frantically digging, trying to find her phone.
“What do you think?” I rolled my eyes inwardly. I didn’t want to risk not being allowed to go due to eye rolling. But really, this wasn’t an 8th grade boy/girl birthday party. There probably wouldn’t be punch or cupcakes either.
“Will Emilia be there?”
I wondered how many questions I’d have to answer. I didn’t want to get too specific since I didn’t know the specifics at all. “I guess.”
“Who else will be there?”
“Kids from school.” I hoped there wouldn’t be kids from school.
“And who are you going with? Emilia?”
“Isla. And Alejandro will be there.” That wasn’t a total lie.
Mom stopped what she was doing, squinted her eyes and looked into my soul to see if I was telling the truth. I smiled, eyes wide and full of hope. Please, please, please, please.
“Oh, fine.” Mom stood up and zipped her purse. “I’m just relieved that you’re leaving the house. I was about to call your father.”
Uh-oh. When your parents are divorced, it takes a special effort for them to unite against you.
“When will you be home?” she asked.
“Um, I don’t know?”
“Call me if you need anything.” Mom picked up her back and left slamming the door behind her.
“Did I just get off without a curfew?” I asked the empty house. Whoa. History had just been made in the Hobart-Perkins household. My phone rang.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Meadow!” he shouted into the phone.
I winced and pulled the phone away a bit. “Oh, hey, Dad.”
“You never called me back last night!”
I hadn’t. Totally forgot. “Oh right, it was kind of busy here last night. The HSA party.”
“Oh geez, I forgot! How was it?” Before I could answer, he said, “Lots of pretentious artsy people talking about art and music and that kind of crap? I always hated that stuff.”
I laughed. “Yeah, me too.” I didn’t offer any more information because I was still avoiding the HSA conversation.
“So listen, next weekend is our weekend.”
I spent one weekend of every month at my dad’s apartment in the city.
I sighed, relieved. “I know.”
“Bring something nice to wear! I’m taking you to a new Italian place,” he said.
“Italian?” I said. That sounded suspicious, not fancy or experimental enough for him.
“Don’t worry. It’s not your typical Italian,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll bring something nice.”
“Listen, I gotta run. I love you and I’ll see you next weekend!”
“Bye, Dad. Love you.” I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. “It’s time.”
Chapter 4
My stomach vibrated because of the hyper butterflies bouncing around inside of me when I walked out the front door to meet Isla. She stood on the sidewalk in front of her house, looking at her phone, lips turned down in a frown. Her head popped up and she smiled when she heard me approaching.
“Hey! You ready for this?” She bounced up and down.
“I guess I’m ready.” I didn’t feel ready, not really. I wanted to be back inside wearing jogging pants. But I couldn’t go on not having experienced anything. I mean, the entire high school experience had been wasted on me so far. Isla exuded confidence. She probably liked going out. I was so nervous I thought I might faint.
We set off toward the comic book shop downtown. This is not a date. It’s a group of friends hanging out. I repeated my mantra as we walked.
“Do you know the band?” Isla asked.
“I don’t think so. Maybe I’ve heard of them, I’m not sure.”
The sun faded behind the hills. I took a deep breath and repeated the affirmation my mom says all the time in my head. All is well. Everything is working out for my highest good.
Not comparing myself to Isla and her effortless, heels-wearing self got harder and harder the closer we got to Alejandro. Next to her, I was just a little kid playing dress-up. I half expected someone to pinch my cheeks and tell me I was precious.
Going to this party, my first ever, was like jumping into deep water with one water wing and zero knowledge of swimming. It didn’t matter that I had been friends with Emilia who was popular and partied on the weekends, I wasn’t allowed and I wasn’t the type to sneak around. Now I’m suddenly allowed and I guess it felt a little weird.
“So how was New Mexico?” I asked in an attempt to forget about my insecurities for a minute.
“Great. New Mexico was great.” Isla looked down at her feet.
“I went once with my mom. She went to a retreat in Santa Fe and I went with her. We went to a lot of art museums.”
“Uh-huh.” She didn’t appear to want to talk about New Mexico at all, or tell me anything about her life there. Isla was gone for years and I’d already filled her in on everything I’d done since 2007.
We walked in silence, and I tried to push away something that had been nagging me all day. What if Alejandro had only invited me so I would bring her? What if that was his plan all along? He probably had no way of getting to her except through me. I imagined the whole scenario. Maybe he was just the kind of guy that had friends and liked to hang out with them. And where was Emilia anyway? He hadn’t mentioned her but then he hadn’t mentioned much at all. Would she be there? She might be waiting with him now!
Things were getting out of hand inside my head when we finally got to Telegraph Comics. I spied Alejandro and the other employees goofing off behind the counter and stopped short, turning my back to the windows.
“Should we go in?” I squeaked.
“No. He sees us and he’s coming out,” she said, looking around me.
My knees got wobbly when Alejandro stepped outside and flashed a grin. “Hey, guys!”
“Where are you taking us?” One side of Isla’s mouth curled up in a flirty grin and she flipped some long curly hair back over her shoulder.
“It’s not that far away actually. Like three blocks,” he said and motioned for us to come with him. Somehow I ended up walking behind them both. Alejandro and Isla chatted and laughed while I struggled to keep up. I thought I heard him drop his band’s name. He was only in the band at HSA. And of course he looked like a guy from a band. Black skinny jeans, Vans, a rough-looking white T-shirt, sufficiently broody.