“That you have Coxsackie?”
His mouth was frozen from root canal, so it sounded more like “Cothakie.”
“No, the other thing.”
“That you needed to thave your piths?”
“No! That you owed me.”
“For what?”
“For going to Noble with you.”
He sat up on his bed. “Whath thith about?”
“I need you to say yes to Vanessa.”
“Theriuthly?” He flopped back down as if hit by a dart. “Lily, I’m theeing thomeone.”
“Just this one time. I swear. Then we’ll be even. She really likes you, Blake, and you don’t want me to tell her you’re gay, so…”
“Can’t you jutht thay I’m ethperienthing complicathions from root canal?”
“You said you’d do anything to pay me back. You did. I transcribed the entire conversation in my journal.”
He held a bag of ice to his jaw. “Ithint thith going to lead her on even more?”
“Be dorky or something. Turn her off. Tell her you’re gay. I don’t care. Just please!”
“Why ith thith tho important?”
I swiped the pillow from behind his head and lay down beside him. “Can I trust you?”
He tossed the bag of ice at my face. “You’re theriuthly asthing if you can trutht me?”
I told him everything. He texted Vanessa the moment I was done and accepted her invitation. She texted back a giant YAY.
Problem tholved.
10.12.12
INT. HELL—NIGHT.
SHERIDAN zips up her favorite jeans and slips on a turquoise peasant top. Her hair is in a low pony and her lips are glossed nude. She checks her smile in the mirror and is pleased. She is pear-shaped and fabulous. Channels are for flat-screens, she decides. Tonight she will go to the fashion show as herself.
BIG MISTAKE #1!
This newfound confidence came from my walks with Duffy. After a few blocks I’d forget all about my channel du jour and accidentally slip back into me. Then he would stop limping or flip down his hood and we’d just… be.
You’re like a sister-mutt. (Duffy.)
A what?
A sister-mutt. A mix of Amelia and Mandy.
(I laughed.) Explain.
Amelia is smart and cool but annoying. Mandy is pretty and funny but annoying. You’re smart and cool and pretty and funny but not annoying. Like a mutt of my sisters.
O-kayyy. (Me, like someone who doesn’t live to be told that kind of thing.) And you’re like a… a band-friend.
Explain.
You’re cute like the guys in One Direction without the annoying accent part. And you’re easy to hang out with like my friend Audri without the annoying Octavia part. A band-friend.
I like that.
Did you ever say the word “annoying” over and over again? (Me.)
No.
Try it. (Me.)
Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. It sounds like a-nong.
A-nong, could be a city in Vietnam. (Me.)
We should send Logan to A-nong. (Duffy.)
By UPS. (Me.)
Ground. (Duffy.)
We had a lot of deep conversations like that. Where we looked at life in new ways that made me feel 5-hour ENERGY pumped. Which is why I decided to go to the fashion show as Sheridan Spencer. Because no other actress had been cast as a sister-mutt. And I wanted to stay with that for a while.
Mom and Dad left me at the warehouse with a stack of taxi vouchers in case Duffy couldn’t give me a ride home. I also got a complete printout of their itinerary in case I needed to reach them. I told them I wouldn’t. I said I’d be fine.
BIG MISTAKE #2!
I walked out of the parking lot and into what looked like the set of Moulin Rouge. Red velvet walls, model-thin women dressed as flappers, their dates like James Bond. Trapeze artists flew overhead to French music. A catwalk of cobblestone lined with Parisian streetlamps was at the center of it all. And there I was. Dressed like fourteen-year-old Sheridan Spencer—Noble High freshman, sister-mutt.
BIG MISTAKE #3!
I bobbed and weaved through the crowd like a lost kid at Six Flags, searching for Duffy. What was a guy like that doing at a place like this? Did I get the address wrong? Should I call him? Did he call me? I checked my phone. Zero messages. This is all Octavia’s fault. If she wasn’t having her stupid party Audri would be here. We’d be laughing at that waitress with the cocktail napkin under her stiletto. Instead, I too was stuck where I didn’t belong.
I forced myself to do one more lap. Maybe the show would start. Maybe I’d find Duffy. Or the girls he invited from style club. Maybe some casting agent would spot me in my peasant top and hire me to star in The Sound of Music.
Then I saw that smart girl Lily from Spanish class. She looked lost too. Only prettier. Much. She was wearing a tight red minidress with pointy black ankle boots and an armload of bangles. Her frizzy dark hair had been ironed and glossed. This was no pear—more like a celery with two perky apples. On Pandora Radio, her station would be J-Lo. Mine would be Maria from Sesame Street.
I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. I said hi. She gasped. I smiled.
What are you doing here? (Lily.)
I was invited.
By whom? (Lily.)
Duffy.
Why?
To see the show.
But—
Where’s everyone else?
Who?
The girls from your style club?
What?
Duffy said you were bringing them.
Why would I do that?
I—
Her bottom lip began to twitch.
Do you know where he is? (Lily.)
No. I was just looking for him.
Ican’tbelievethis.
I wondered why she was so upset. And then I knew.
Did you think this was a date?
Her eyes filled with tears. I hoped her mascara was waterproof. My phone rang—
Hold on. (Me, reaching into my clutch.) This is probably him—
I answered. It was Octavia. I turned to tell Lily I’d be right back but she was gone.
Hello? (Me, trying to sound cool and not at all curious as to why Octavia would be calling me.) Hold on, let me go outside, the music is too loud.
Where are you? (Octavia.)
Who is this? (Ha!)
Octavia.
Who?
Oc-tay-vee-ah!
(Me, snatching the remote away from Sister-Mutt and changing my channel to Paris Hilton.) Hold on guys, I’m coming. Yes, I’ll dance with you. No, my dress is not Dior. It’s vintage YSL. Shhh, let me talk. One minute. Sorry, Octavia, what’s up? Is it Audri? Is she okay?
I wanted to see if you were coming tonight.
Where?
My party.
I wasn’t invited.
You are now.
Did Audri put you up to this? Because I don’t need your charity. I’m at a fashion show with all my—
I’m inviting you because I want you to come. Audri doesn’t even know I’m calling.
So why—
This thing between us is stupid. I want to start fresh.
Really? (Me. Wanting to believe her.)
But if you have other—
No, it’s okay. Stephan can probably give me a ride. If not I’ll ask Matteo. That guy can’t say no. Check out his GQ cover, the one with the albino mice, and you’ll see what I mean.
Cool. (Octavia.) So you’ll be here soon?
Yeah.
Oh, Sheridan?
Yeah?
This’ll be good.
I po
ked my head inside and scanned for Duffy one last time. He was nowhere. So I called a taxi and gave the driver Octavia’s address.
BIG MISTAKE #4!
To Be Continued…
END SCENE.
Friday
Feeling = Over.
The fashion show. My basketball career. My life.
Not a single person showed. Not one. Not even Sister-Mutt. My whole section was empty. I could have played Rumson. I wouldn’t have had to Wipe. Hud and Coops would still be talking to me. Anton wouldn’t be text-threatening me to pay him back. I wouldn’t have called the cops on Lily.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
Sucks.
My entire life sucks.
Gardner offered me a ride after the show. Only I couldn’t deal with him bragging about his commission and talking about the “ahm-bee-ance” like it mattered. So I said no. The whole “affair” was a giant Exxon spill of slickness and I was the oily seagull. I needed to run off the runoff. I didn’t care that my house was eight miles from the “venue.” I was so pissed I could have gone twenty. I didn’t even have earbuds but I ran like I did.
My feet smacked the pavement. My heart pounded. My lungs stung. The medieval coin necklace smacked against my chest. I didn’t care if it retailed for $250 but with the code it could be yours for $105. I ripped it off my neck and whipped it in the bushes on Old Bell Road. I wanted to outrun my feelings. To leave them with the coin and the rest of this night that should never have been mine to begin with. But the horrible feelings stayed with me no matter how fast I ran. So I pumped and worked and pushed until I was too tired to feel anything at all.
Car lights = streaks. Traffic lights = spots. Curbs = cliffs for me to jump off of.
A van rolled up beside me on King’s Lane. I figured it was Anton with another lecture on “salesmanship.” I sped up. The van did too. “Sexy and I Know It” was blasting inside. Someone rolled down a window. The music became clearer. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t care who it was or what they wanted. I looked anyway.
It was the Flames driving back from Rumson.
Feeling = Oh no.
I started limping.
Logo with his head out the window: How’s that bad ankle treating you?
Feeling = Dizzy. Deaf. Sick.
Hands on my knees, I leaned forward to catch my breath. I begged my Golden “Duffys” to Iron Man me home, but they just stood there, all slick and pathetic, like me.
Feeling = I hate these shoes!
Handfuls of Cheetos were being thrown at me. The guys sped off shouting “Go Flames!”
I ditched my Golden Duffys by the side of the road.
Feeling = I want my mom.
Serious. I actually felt that way. Not that I’d ever admit that to her. I was her son. Not her daughter.
I walked barefoot and thought about Sheridan. We weren’t super tight or anything but still. I thought she was real.
Amelia would say: She must have had a good reason for ditching you. Why don’t you call and ask if she’s okay?
Hud and Coops would call me a wuss if I did that.
Mandy would say: Make her jealous. That’s what I do when Gardner takes me for granted. Start with a good outfit. Something that says confidence and curves. Then… (yawn = deaf).
Dad would smack me on the back and tell me it’s only going to get harder.
Bubbie Libby would tell me to forget about the blonde and focus on the nice Jewish girl next door.
Mom would hug me for a solid hour.
I wanted to listen to Amelia.
I decided if the light at Meyer and Kent Ave. stayed green until I got to the mailbox, I would.
The light turned yellow.
I called Sheridan anyway.
It rang three times before she picked up.
ME: Sheridan?
DUDE: No. It’s her boyfriend.
Girls were laughing in the background.
ME: Who is this?
DUDE: It’s Logan. Noble Flames MVP. Who’s this?
I hung up. I ran the rest of the way barefoot.
The house was dark when I got home.
Feeling = Relieved.
I was too ashamed to see anyone. I wanted to Skype Amelia.
The dogs ran out when I unlocked the door. I chased them all the way to Lily’s house. Her parents had just gotten home and hadn’t closed the door all the way. The dogs pushed it open and ran inside. Mrs. Bader-Huffman screamed. They bolted up the stairs.
ME: I’m so sorry.
She said it’s okay, she was startled, that’s all. I was barefoot and smelled like sweat. I hoped she didn’t notice.
HER: Where’s Lily?
ME: No clue.
Mrs. Bader-Huffman started to freak. She thought Lily and I had plans. Something about a fashion show to raise money for sweatshop workers.
ME: Sweatshop workers?
HER: That’s what she told me. You haven’t seen her all night?
ME: No. She was supposed to meet me but she never showed.
HER: Oh my god, Alannnnnnn! Lily has been kidnapped!
I did not want to be around for that so I said I’d grab the dogs and go. She was too busy freaking to care.
Me going upstairs: Come, puppies. Come on. (Kissy sound kissy sound.)
I heard their jingling collars in Lily’s room.
I walked in all careful, afraid I might see something I’m not supposed to. Like it was the girls’ locker room or something. Coops and I dared each other to run through one during our middle school dance and this was nothing like that.
For one thing it didn’t smell like shampoo or fruit-flavored gum. It didn’t smell like anything girly at all. More like the parts of a library no one hangs in, where the books are old and all about history. There weren’t any makeup stains or torn magazines or shoe piles or bright colors like Mandy’s. It was more like Amelia’s: full maps and encyclopedias and nerdy secrets.
The dogs were scratching the closet like maybe a dead body had been buried in there. I wondered if it was Lily’s. Maybe that’s why she didn’t show up. Maybe her parents murdered her and stuffed her in there. Maybe the dogs heard the whole thing and were trying to tell me. Maybe that’s why the Bader-Huffmans were out.
Feeling = Watch your back!
The dogs scratched the Albert Einstein poster right off the door. A picture of Seth from The O.C. was hidden underneath. Nerdy secret #1. Called it.
ME: What is it pups?
DOGS: Jingle jingle mwwww mwww woof.
ME: Whatcha got in there?
DOGS: Woof!
ME: Bones?
DOGS: A-woof! Woof!
I knocked.
I whispered: Lily?
I knocked again.
I whispered again: Lily? It’s Duffy. You in there?
What if she was? Her parents would never let me leave alive. Then again, getting murdered by the Bader-Huffmans might not be so bad. Everyone would like me again and I’d be out of the red with Anton. The timing was ideal.
I checked the hall. I was alone. I gripped the brass knob. I turned it slowly. I swallowed. Everything I did sounded seriously loud. I opened the door. I went blind for a second. Then I opened my eyes.
Nothing. No corpse. No bones. No Lily. Just clothes, another picture of Seth, and a tackle box with a lock. The dogs were still going crazy so I guessed the box was full of unkosher snacks (nerdy secret #2?) because Lily hates being kosher. A label on the back of the lock said “A.D.’s birthday” in tiny font.
Feeling = Same initials as me.
For fun I entered: 12.29.97.
Click.
The lock popped open. I opened the box. I called the cops.
October 12th
My arms were slathered in a shedload of Aveeno anti-itch cream. I wasn�
��t expecting fights or poor grades on my first date with Blake. But Mom had just moved back from the hotel and she wanted to give me a ride, so I had to take all necessary precautions.
She told me I looked beautiful57 and then she started the engine and cried. She wanted to talk about why she had been gone so long but I shut her down. I refused to spend my first date scratching like a flea-ridden cat. I had waited seven days for her explanation. What was one more day? So I said that and then blasted the radio. “Sexy and I Know It” was on.58
A letter in a plain white envelope rested on the seat between us. It was addressed to me in Helvetica 12-point font.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, that came today,” she said, sniffling. “I forgot to give it to you.”
“Finally,” I said, assuming it was U.S. Customs saying my SWAP bracelets had cleared. If I collected the money by Wednesday I’d still have time to enter and I wouldn’t need “the solution” again until finals.
I tore the letter open. The note was brief. Helvetica 12-point all caps:
I KNEW YOU WERE UP TO SOMETHING.
NOW I HAVE PROOF. YOU’RE DONE.
My vision blurred. I read it four more times anyway. My forehead began to sweat. The moisture was making my straightened hair curl.
Who did this? Who knows my secret? What did they want from me? A confession? Surrender? Expulsion?
“Nessa, are you okay?” Mom asked. “Did you eat something?”
“What?” I snapped, desperate to be alone with my panic.
“Something’s wrong. I can tell. Is it the letter?”
“No,” I said, crumpling it up. “Just an announcement about gluten-free Girl Scout cookies.”
“Well, you don’t look okay.”
“Thanks, Mom, just what every girl wants to hear on her way to a party.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence. Ver? I didn’t want to go on my date anymore. I needed to know who sent this note and why.
A.J. knew my secret but he would never turn me in. Especially since I upgraded him to a C+. There weren’t any security cameras in the office when I snuck in. And Lily is the only person I told.…
FOE NO YOU DIZN’T!
How could I have been so stupid?
Deepak teaches us to follow our instincts and honor our inner voice. From day one that voice told me to watch out for her in two languages.59 This is obviously about Blake. I mean, how can a girl spend that much time with a guy that perfect and not fall in love? She can’t. It defies chemistry, logic, and love.
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