Everything Within and In Between

by Nikki Barthelmess

  We walk together through the regular in-between-classes rush in the hallway, silent. When we reach my locker, I turn my back to it, so I’m completely facing Edgar. I have no idea what to say, other than something stupid like thanks for following me to our lockers? But my palms are sweaty, and I wipe them off on my jeans before I meet his eye. Edgar’s brow furrows, like he’s about to say something, but then he quickly looks away.

  “What is it?” Without thinking, I reach out and touch his forearm.

  Edgar leans closer to me and my stomach flips. For one intense instant I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, under his breath, he says, “Carlos . . . he’s my boy, but he’s not exactly . . .” Edgar’s face is pinched, his tone unsure.

  Heat rushes to my face. “What? He’s not exactly what?”

  Edgar doesn’t make a move to speak. He twists the strap to his camera over his shoulder.

  Okay, yeah, Brittany’s never been a fan of Carlos, but Nina also warned me about him, and now Edgar too. But whatever it is Nina and Edgar know that I don’t, they could at least have the decency to tell me. I manhandle my locker open, shoving my backpack in and clawing through the locker’s contents.

  “Are you going to tell me whatever it is you came here to or just be all weird and cryptic?”

  Edgar sighs and looks toward his locker. “Look, just forget I said anything. Okay? See you later.”

  I stare into my locker rather than watch him walk away. Stand still and check my anger. Nope. Not going to let whatever that was ruin today. The worse thing I can think of—even though we’re still unofficial—is that Carlos’s dating other people, but he can’t be. If he were, why would he have bothered to ask me if I wanted to come to Cassie’s? I need to stop worrying about that and instead figure out what to wear. Something Carlos would like. Something he couldn’t help but notice. I won’t want him even thinking about taking his eyes off me.

  I rack my brain. Nothing I own feels right, not sexy enough.

  Borrowing something of Brittany’s seems wrong somehow, but a thought crosses my mind.

  Maybe Mom can help.

  I text her, and seconds later, my phone dings.

  I’m smiling as I close my locker and head down the hallway. I always dreamed of having a mom I could go to with this kind of stuff and now, it seems, I do.

  From our regular library table, I watch Mom smiling as she approaches. “Here it is!” She plops into the seat across from me, sliding her large handbag to my side of the table.

  I unzip her purse and feel some soft fabric with my fingertips. Out comes a very slinky, very sexy little black dress.

  “It’s my favorite dress from when I was around your age. I wore it all the time, and even still do sometimes.” She grins at me proudly. “Anyway, I brought some makeup too, for you to borrow. Look.”

  I lean closer and Mom opens the bag wider to show me. “Here’s eyeliner, mascara, and even fake eyelashes I bought from Rite Aid. What do you think?”

  “You didn’t have to do all of this.” I smile sheepishly.

  Mom shakes her head quickly and puts her hand on top of mine. “I wanted to, I really wanted to.” Her eyes start to well, and she grabs the bag and pulls it to her, fumbling awkwardly. “That’s only if you like the dress. If you don’t, it’s fine. I don’t want to be one of those moms. You can tell me; I won’t be mad.”

  I pull the bag back to me. “Don’t even think about changing your mind. It’s for me. So hands off.”

  Mom laughs, I laugh, and everything feels good. Right. Like it should be.

  Before I know it, it’s the night of the party.

  Brittany comes over to help me get ready. She’s already got her makeup looking like it was done by a professional. Sexy, smoky eyes, perfectly puckered pink lips. Brittany’s had her makeup done enough times that she can do it almost as good as any of the girls at the MAC store.

  I lay the black dress, fake eyelashes, and my mom’s makeup on my bed for Brittany to peruse, next to all the stuff she brought from home. Brittany holds the dress up by one of its slim straps. “Where did you get this?” she marvels.

  “My mom lent it to me. It’s great, right? Vintage!” Mom’s smile when she passed me the dress flashes in my mind.

  “Yes!” Brittany grins and hands the dress to me. “Put it on already!”

  I slide off my jeans and toss my T-shirt aside. Brittany starts laughing. “Nice bra!”

  My face burns. I throw the dress on over my faded beige bra. The dress is way more low-cut than I realized before. Revealing.

  “So what?” I quickly retort. “It’s not like anyone is going to see—” And then I stop, because one, isn’t that what I’ve wanted all along, for Carlos to get me out of my clothes? Although I wouldn’t want it to happen at a party—no, not like that. I’d rather be here. In my own bed, since Grandma’s never around. The nagging thought of Carlos hooking up with other girls crosses my mind, but I quickly stomp it down. I’m overthinking this.

  But Brittany’s right about my bra. The thick beige straps will totally show.

  She leans forward from her perch on my bed. “Take it off, Ri. Live a little!”

  I stare at her in confusion for a second until I realize she means go braless. I take the bra off from underneath my dress before turning to look into the mirror on my closet door.

  “Ah-may-zing!” Brittany squeals. “Nice rack, Ri! You can for sure pull this off.”

  I blush. That was the easy part. “Okay, so now makeup? That’s where you come in.” I do my own makeup every day, but for tonight I’m pulling out the big guns.

  Brittany gets to work on me—smoky eye like hers, fake eyelashes, bright red lips.

  When Brittany finishes my makeup, she goes noticeably quiet.

  I look at her reflection in the mirror. “What is it?”

  “The party . . . None of our friends will be there.”

  I grab my Diet Coke from atop the dresser. “Not true.” I swallow a big gulp, the bubbles burning my throat as they go down. “Nina will be and Carlos and Edgar too.”

  Brittany leaves it unsaid that they aren’t exactly her friends. Her mouth puckers at the sound of Nina’s name. “Nina’s been . . . nice. But, I mean, she’s the one who ditched us when we were all friends, remember?”

  “I know. But things change. People do.” Like me, though Brittany can’t seem to accept that fact.

  Brittany’s hand holding the eyeliner drops to her side. “You’re right.” She looks up at me. “It was really cool of Nina to invite me. And I meant what I said; it feels like we haven’t gotten to spend as much time together lately and I want to fix that. Tonight will be great.”

  My lips purse. I appreciate Brittany’s effort, but there’s something else that needs to be said. “Brittany, about tonight.” I hesitate, and she stares at me, waiting.

  I pick at my nails. “Please just don’t . . . just don’t be . . . I don’t know . . . Remember what I said about the way you brought up our upcoming golf lessons and how you talked about it? You need to be more mindful about how you talk to Nina and everyone else . . . including me.”

  Brittany shrugs, keeping her eyes turned down. “I get it.”

  She lifts her chin and her face brightens, but something feels off, like it’s an act. “Well, since I can’t mention it at the party, I might as well tell you now that my mom finally got our first golf lesson rescheduled.”

  I muster up all the enthusiasm for this that I can. “That’s good.”

  Brittany grabs a mascara off my desk and pretends to inspect it for a moment. “I guess we should get going, right? Are you ready?”

  As I’ll ever be.

  I can hear the rap music pounding as soon as we reach Cassie’s street, even over the pop playing inside Brittany’s Mercedes. A bunch of kids I recognize from school—and many I don’t—hang out on the sides of Cassie’s front door. Others spill onto the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and talking.

  Brittany’s hands clutch t
he steering wheel while she parks the car, but she doesn’t say anything.

  I grab my phone out of my black handbag. “I’m just going to text Carlos and tell him we’re here.”

  Someone’s knuckles rap on the window, and I jump up from the heated car seat in surprise.

  Edgar.

  I hit the button to roll down the window.

  “Hey!” he says. “Good timing, right? I just got here.”

  Brittany visibly loosens up. “Yes! Perfect!”

  As the three of us walk toward the door together, no Carlos in sight, Edgar trails behind me, putting his hand on my back as we walk through the group of guys smoking out front.

  “¿Qué onda, little homie?” one says after he takes a drag of a cigarette.

  Edgar nods. “No mucho, Javier. Cassie didn’t mention you were visiting from college. How’s it going?”

  “Just hanging. Good to be back—I almost forget mi primita preferida throws this party every year.”

  Brittany eyes Javier and the guys he’s standing with warily as we walk past. So what if they were a little older and outside smoking? Apparently, Cassie can’t have her cousin and his friends over, according to Brittany. We walk into the foyer inside, where the beige tile is already sticky with spilled beer.

  Music pulses, beating against my eardrums. In the hallway, a couple folds into each other, the girl sitting on the guy’s lap on a chair outside the bathroom. Going to town, seemingly not caring that people are standing behind them on the stairs and the upstairs overlook, laughing. A guy tosses a nickel, trying to get it inside the girl’s low-cut shirt. With a thud, the nickel bounces off her head, and she looks up to scowl before the guy she’s with pulls her face back to him.

  Edgar looks at me, but before he says anything, Brittany laughs in the direction of the kissing couple. “Classy.”

  I roll my eyes. Brittany’s comment bugs me, even if the couple is being gross.

  We walk on, to the living room. The music’s louder in here, but the lights are dimmer. Smoke fills the air, lingering in a cloud above the people on the couch, who are passing a joint back and forth. I pick up the pace, knowing Brittany can’t stand it when people get high, and not wanting to give her anything to complain about. Edgar’s gaze shifts to the kitchen, where a group of girls raise their shot glasses, Nina among them. Cassie catches his eye and waves us over.

  “Go!” Nina calls, and each of them throw back their heads and gulp down the liquor. She slams her glass down as we approach. Nina’s eyes meet mine and she grins, her maroon lipstick making her teeth look extra white.

  “Thanks again for the invite, Cassie.” I smile and look around awkwardly. “You know Brittany, right?”

  Cassie nods. “I’ve seen you around, not that we’ve ever officially met.” She gives Brittany a small wave. “I’m Cassie.”

  Brittany smiles politely, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  That was super formal, but it could be going worse, I guess.

  One of the girls fills a shot glass up and hands it to Cassie. She shakes her head. “I don’t drink, girl. That one’s all yours.” Her smile fades when she looks behind me. “It looks like Carlos made it too.”

  I turn to follow her gaze. Carlos has just walked in with a group of people, including his old football friends, Don Abrams and Nate Sanders.

  Don calls, “Hey, man!” to Santiago Esparza in the living room. He and Nate break off from Carlos and walk over to the other group.

  Everything is fine until Amy Thomas, one of Brittany’s mom’s friends’ daughters, emerges from behind Carlos. Panic floods my chest. Did he actually bring another girl to the party?

  I take a breath, no need to lose my head. I knew from Insta that Amy and Carlos were friends. When I turn back, Brittany’s face is buried in her phone and she’s got a ridiculous Cheshire-cat smile on her face.

  “Who are you texting?” I ask.

  Brittany’s eyes stay glued to her phone. “It’s Finn, telling me how much better the party would be if I were there. . . .”

  I am not spending this whole party babysitting Brittany while she sends Finn flirty messages. Not when Carlos hasn’t even bothered to text me to see if I’m here. I search for him in the crowd and legit gasp like an idiot when I see Amy leading Carlos up the stairs.

  Brittany starts to ask if I’m okay, but I wave her off.

  Edgar appears beside me with two red cups in his hands. He offers one to Brittany, who shakes her head because she’s driving. I don’t think twice before accepting mine and chugging the beer inside it, then slamming the empty cup down on the counter, next to Nina’s glass.

  I keep staring toward the stairs, thinking of Carlos. What the hell?

  Nina catches my eye. “Did Carlos just go upstairs with Amy? I thought he was all about—” She stops herself and takes a drink instead. “What an ass. I hope you see now what I’ve been trying to say about Carlos.”

  Brittany glances at her phone before turning to Nina. “Me too. I’ve been telling her all along that your friend—”

  I cut her short. “Brittany, shut up about that already.”

  I don’t hear how Brittany responds because I’m too focused on the alcohol making my stomach warm and my thoughts a little foggy.

  Brittany, apparently already done with our conversation, squeals. “Oh my God, Finn’s calling me. What do I do?”

  “Answer it,” I snap.

  Cassie sucks in a breath at my outburst. Brittany looks at me incredulously before Cassie softly touches Brittany’s elbow, steering her to the left. “There’s a laundry room behind the kitchen. It’ll be quiet in there if you want to call.”

  Brittany hesitates, looking at me and then toward where Cassie pointed.

  “Just go. I’ll be fine,” I say.

  Brittany turns toward the laundry room and says, all breathy, “Hi, Finn,” before disappearing through the kitchen.

  “Have Carlos and Amy been hooking up?” I ask no one in particular. “Was that what you were all being so cagey about?”

  Before anyone answers, I spot an unopened beer nearby on the counter, and I grab it and pound it down like I did the first one.

  A pretty girl with bright red lips and black curly hair approaches our group. She touches Cassie’s shoulder and Cassie’s face lights up. They hug and, my outburst apparently forgotten, Cassie introduces her as Mia, from San Marcos.

  I manage saying hi to Mia but that’s about it. Still stuck on Carlos and made brave by the drink warming my belly, I text him. Three little dots appear and then disappear. If he’s checking his phone, he’s not hooking up with Amy, at least not yet.

  “I’m going up there.” I start walking.

  I hear Edgar call something behind me, but I wave him off. I push through the stoner circle in the living room, past the couple eating each other’s faces, and up the stairs. At the top, more people are drinking and laughing, yelling at each other over the music. The upstairs hallway leads to the right, where three closed doors await me. I pause, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I don’t know what I’m expecting to find, but I can’t just stand here.

  I stop at the first door on the right and knock on it.

  “Occupied,” some guy’s voice calls from inside. A girl giggles. I walk to the next door, rap on it, and wait. A moment later the door opens, and Amy pops out. “Heeeeey!” She shouts over the music, her long blonde wavy hair hitting me in the face as she throws herself at me, pulling me in for a hug.

  Stunned, I freeze until she steps back.

  “I know you!” Amy grins wildly. “You’re Brittany’s friend! Ri! Hi, Ri!”

  She grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the room, where I see her friend Stephanie Bennet sitting on the neatly made bed.

  Stephanie’s normally pale, round face seems flushed. She pulls a strand of her curly red hair and twists it around her finger relatively hard.

  Something feels off.

  Amy plops herself down, her back facing us, in the
chair in front of Cassie’s desk—at least I’m guessing it’s Cassie’s based on the photos of her and Nina over the years covering the walls. Amy bends and makes a long sniffing sound, her head hanging over a mirror I just noticed in front of her.

  She looks up, and I see she’s inhaling through a rolled-up dollar bill. She sniffs deeply again and pulls her head back, using her legs to turn the rolling chair toward us.

  Oh.

  That’s what they’re doing in here. Amy and Stephanie, though, alone.

  “I was just looking for Carlos,” I say. “I’ll . . . uh . . . check another room.”

  Stephanie snorts. “I wouldn’t if I were you. He was looking for Tasha. If he found her,” Stephanie narrows her eyes and grins at Amy, “I’d say give him a good five minutes.”

  Amy shrieks, laughing. “Damn, savage, Steph!”

  My face falls. “W-what?” I stammer.

  Amy blinks several times and her perfectly glossed lips pucker. “Wait a minute. You’re not seeing Carlos, are you? He’s been hooking up with our friend Tasha for months.”

  It’s like the air is sucked out of my lungs, out of this whole room. He’s been hooking up with someone else this whole time? When I’ve been obsessing over him. Planning to sleep with him even. A part of me worried he could have been seeing other girls, but hearing it confirmed like this is much worse than I imagined.

  I’m such an idiot.

  “I . . . um . . . well, not officially.” I can’t meet either of their eyes. My mind is foggy from the beer. This is so humiliating. “I should go.”

  Stephanie stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you.” Stephanie’s words come out fast, extra noticeable because usually she has a particularly slow cadence. “Carlos is great, and to be fair, he’s not a cheater. He, like, never promises anyone anything. He’s just not the type to have a girlfriend. Tasha’s not looking for anything serious either, so they just get on pretty well.”