by Beth Reekles
Chapter Twenty-two
‘You’re home late,’ Mom says, as I drop onto the couch next to her, my satchel landing with a muffled thump on the carpet.
‘You’re home early,’ I reply. ‘Dad said you wouldn’t be back till gone six.’
‘My meeting got pushed back until Wednesday, so I didn’t have to take the train out of town. Home usual time. You, however, are not. Busted, young lady. And I believe I grounded you? So unless you were cleaning up trash as part of a community project or you had detention, you’d better have a good excuse for being out.’
‘Actually, I was at Denny’s.’
Mom raises her eyebrows over her coffee mug. ‘Does the word “grounded” mean nothing to you? I take it you went with Todd.’
‘Actually . . .’
‘Oh, you haven’t got back together with Josh, have you? I thought you were adamant that you were happy and better off without him. All this high school drama, it’s like an episode of 90210 . . .’
‘Mom!’ I interrupt, laughing. ‘I went with Allie.’
Mom stops, mid-rant. ‘Allie as in Allison Lewitt, your former best friend?’
‘That’s the one.’
She puts her mug down on the coffee table and leans forward towards me. ‘I want to hear everything.’
So, I tell her everything. Including talking to Josh, and throwing away photos of the two of us, and how Todd talked to Allie about how I missed her and said that she should talk to me.
Mom smiles when I tell her Todd’s role in it. ‘He’s a good guy.’
‘Yeah, he is.’
‘He looks out for you a lot.’
‘Well, like you said, he’s a good guy.’
‘I’m glad you two are such good friends. And it’s so nice to hear that you and Allie are friends again. I’ve missed having her around. She was always so sweet.’
‘Uh-huh. So anyway, we both had last period free, and . . .’
‘Wanna go to Denny’s?’ Allie asks me, hugging her binder to her and smiling tentatively. ‘It’s just, you know, we both have study period now, and . . .’
‘And we used to go to Denny’s a lot,’ I finish, closing my locker and jiggling my bag to get my books to sit better inside it. She gnaws on her lip. ‘Sure, why not?’
She smiles brightly, tucking some hair behind her ear. The metal bar through it glints under the harsh lighting in the hallway. ‘Okay, great! Um, do you have your car? I got a ride in with my mom this morning, because my car has a flat tire.’
‘That sucks. Yeah, I have my car. We’ll have to be back to pick up Todd, though, if he can’t find a ride home.’
Allie nods. ‘That’s fine. I just thought it’d be nice if we could spend some quality time together a little like we used to. And not surrounded by people, like at lunch. Milkshakes are on me.’
It’s not a particularly long drive to Denny’s, but we spend the ride arguing amiably over the music on my mix CD. Allie and I had a lot in common, but our music tastes always differed. She was always into more acoustic, indie stuff, and big, bass-y house music; and it’s kind of nice to see she hasn’t changed much.
When we get into Denny’s and find a booth, we both order pancake stacks and milkshakes. And not once do we stop talking – except to shovel pancakes in our mouths, or slurp at our milkshakes.
We talk about everything: about embarrassing things that happened recently; the books we’re reading for English class; which colleges we’re thinking about applying to. It doesn’t even matter what we’re talking about (like when Allie starts whining about how her nail polish is always chipping, no matter what she does) because it’s just so great to be hanging out again.
I realize, as she’s telling me with such wild and passionate arm gestures she almost takes out a passing busboy all about how misogynistic this guy in the debate team is, how big a part of my life I’ve been missing without my best friend.
Neither of us tries to even imply that the other is to blame for our friendship being wrecked in freshman year, and I’m glad. I don’t know if I could take it if she turned around now and blamed me for everything.
I keep waiting for an awkward silence to settle, or for something to happen that breaks this fragile connection we’ve found again – but nothing ruins it.
Todd texts me to let me know he’s found a ride home with a guy in his French class, so we don’t have to leave after just the one milkshake.
We stay for three, in the end, and when I stop the car outside Allie’s house, she grins at me.
‘I missed you, you know.’
‘I missed you, too. It’s weird, how normal this was, right?’
I laugh. ‘Definitely. But good weird.’
‘Well, thanks for the ride.’
‘Thanks for the milkshakes.’
‘Anytime, Ashley.’
She climbs out of the car, and on impulse I roll down the window and call out to her before she has chance to unlock the front door.
‘Hey, Allie?’
She turns. ‘Yeah?’
‘Thanks for being my friend again.’
She laughs. ‘Like I said – anytime, Ashley.’
Mom smiles at me. ‘Sounds like you had a good time.’ She drinks some more coffee, and then picks up the TV remote, switching from the news channel to an episode of Breaking Bad that’s playing. ‘But you’re still grounded. So no more Denny’s.’
I sigh. ‘Yes, Mom.’
She sets down the empty mug, and picks up a notebook off the coffee table, flicking it open. ‘So, I was going through everything ready for Thanksgiving. Callum is taking care of dessert, and your father’s doing the cranberry sauce and the turkey. Grandma will be over on the Tuesday – she’s staying in the spare bedroom – and Gran and Grandpa are arriving early Thursday morning. Aunt Janice and Uncle George will be here around noon with your cousins, and—’
‘Whoa, okay, Mom, slow down. What do you want me to do, take notes?’
‘No, I want you to be available to peel and chop vegetables.’
I laugh. ‘Now that, I can do. And Todd and Callum don’t have any allergies, I checked.’
Mom pats my knee. ‘Good girl.’
She always gets worked up over Thanksgiving. The one year we went to Aunt Janice’s house, it was a complete disaster. She’s not the greatest cook, and Uncle George was too busy watching the football to pay much attention to what was going on in the kitchen, and we ended up with an incinerated turkey and undercooked vegetables. After that, we went back to Thanksgiving at our house.
But I think, in a way, Mom thrives on the stress of Thanksgiving.
We asked Todd and Callum a little while ago what their Thanksgiving plans were – I guessed they’d be going back to Idaho, maybe spending the day with Todd’s mom. But she’s going to the Bahamas for a long weekend with her fiancé, and it turns out that Todd doesn’t have that many cousins – an eight-year-old cousin on his dad’s side, who lives near his grandparents in Nevada, who he sees maybe once a year during summer vacation, but that’s it. I never realized what a small family he had.
When I asked on behalf of my parents (well, mostly my mom) if they wanted to join us for Thanksgiving, I was surprised when Todd jumped at the chance and agreed before his dad had chance to even open his mouth.
He told me why afterwards, when we were sitting in his room making flash cards.
‘I don’t think either of us want to spend Thanksgiving just the two of us. It’ll seem a little lonely.’
I’d patted his knee. ‘Don’t you worry, Todd O’Connor, I’ve got your back.’
The rest of the week at school feels like something out of a dream, or a movie. After that first lunchtime I spent at Todd’s table, I join them every day, and they all seem genuinely happy to see me. I know everyone’s name, of course, but I never got to know many of them properly, aside from the few people I’ve sat by in classes.
Tuesday lunchtime, I sit on the end of the table next to Todd, only talking to him and
Allie really because I don’t know how the rest of them feel about me, if they even want me there.
But on Wednesday, I show up at their table before Todd and Allie, and they make space for me right in the middle, making me a part of their conversation and dealing me in the game of Uno they’re about to play.
I’m reserved and quiet those first few days, shy and awkward when somebody who isn’t Todd or Allie speaks to me – yes, me, the newbie at the table – not knowing what to say to them.
‘We’re going bowling this Saturday,’ says Kelly, laying down a green three on the pile of Uno cards in the center of the table. ‘Are you coming, Ashley?’
I jump at the sound of my name. ‘Who, me?’
‘Yeah,’ she says, smiling at me brightly. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun.’
‘Um, I don’t know . . .’
‘Aw, we don’t bite,’ pitches in Mike, smiling at me as well.
‘No, it’s just – I’m grounded, and I don’t know if my mom will let me . . .’
‘Can’t hurt to ask her. It’s no biggie if you can’t come, but it’d be nice if you can.’
‘I’ll ask,’ I promise, and I do, over dinner later that night. Dad tells me of course I can go, why am I even bothering to ask? – and I have to remind him that I’m grounded. So Mom declares my punishment officially over on Saturday, and I go bowling with my new friends.
It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
By the end of the week, I feel like one of them. And I realize I’ve been missing out on something for a long time – I just didn’t know what it was.
It’s so great to be part of a group of people I can talk to so easily without being afraid of them looking at me like I’m a complete loser, or that by trying to strike up conversation about something I find interesting I’ll kill the conversation completely.
I still see Josh’s friends around school, but they all give me the cold shoulder. Not Naomi so much – she did smile at me when she saw me in the hallway between classes on Tuesday – but the rest of them pretend I don’t exist. But at least they aren’t saying mean things whenever they brush past me in the corridors.
I don’t miss Josh, or his friends, not once.
I’m happy.
Chapter Twenty-three
The whole of Wednesday is spent making sure we have enough chairs to go around the dining-room table, ironing the giant tablecloth (and then ironing it again because Mom found a crease in the middle), and preparing some of the food that can just be re-heated the next day.
‘It’s not cheating,’ Mom tells me adamantly, just like she does every Thanksgiving, ‘it’s just making tomorrow easier. It’s still home-cooked.’
That evening I take Todd to pick up Allie and take them to Denny’s to meet up with everyone else there. Todd stays in the car while I go knock on Allie’s front door.
Her mom answers, and the stressed-out frown on her face disappears when she sees it’s me. ‘Oh, Ashley! Come in a sec, Allie’s almost ready.’ Leaning over the banister, Mrs Lewitt shouts up, ‘Allie, Ashley’s here!’
‘Thanks.’ I wipe my feet on the welcome mat and step inside. ‘Smells good.’
‘Ah, you mean the Chinese take-out we ordered?’ She laughs. ‘The refrigerator is looking pretty empty, aside from the four apple pies I had to make for tomorrow.’
‘Take-out was a sensible decision,’ I agree.
‘I’ll be down in a second!’ Allie yells, a belated reply to her mom.
‘When are you leaving?’ I ask, even though Allie’s already told me. They’re going to her grandparents’ place, opting for an early start on the road due to all her cousins from Maine staying in the spare bedrooms and couches.
‘Hitting the road at seven,’ her mom tells me, looking surprisingly upbeat about it. ‘How’s school going?’
‘It’s fine, yeah . . . Plenty of homework, but it’s okay.’
‘It’s good that you two are friends again,’ Allie’s mom says after a pause, smiling fondly at me. ‘She’s really missed you.’
‘I missed her, too.’ I smile, even though I want to roll my eyes. It feels like I have this conversation every time I’ve been over Allie’s house since we started to hang out again – and I know that when she’s been over my house, my mom says the same thing to her, too. It’s crazy.
I guess it’s a mom thing.
Allie runs down the stairs, one arm in the sleeve of her jacket and her purse between her teeth. She manages to get the other half of the jacket on by the time she’s reached us, and takes the purse out of her mouth to kiss her mom on the cheek.
‘Don’t be out too late.’
‘We won’t. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.’
‘Have fun!’ her mom calls out after us as we make our way to my car. Allie climbs into the backseat, and says hi to Todd. We’re meeting a few people at Denny’s – those who haven’t already left to visit family, or who aren’t being held hostage to spend quality time with the relatives they see maybe twice a year at most. Grandma, my grandmother on my mom’s side, is already here, but exhausted from her trip. She’s been asleep since six, so mom couldn’t object to me going out with my friends.
Not that she would have anyway; she’s ecstatic I have a group of friends I actually want to spend time with.
‘So what time do I need to have you back home?’ I ask Allie.
‘Ten at the latest,’ she says. ‘But preferably earlier, because I need to wash my hair.’
‘No problem.’
‘Thanks. How’s your mom doing with the Thanksgiving preparations?’
‘Surprisingly well.’
The three of us talk mostly about the holidays and how much homework school has given us over our long weekend off, and once we get to Denny’s and meet the others, the conversation isn’t much different.
I squeeze into the corner of the booth, Todd sliding in next to me, and Allie sits on the other side, next to Kelly, Ben and Logan. Amanda arrives not long after us, and we all order drinks.
At one point, I have to go to the bathroom, and squeeze out of the booth. Amanda stops slurping her milkshake, grabs her purse, and says, ‘Ooh, I’ll come with you.’
‘Why do they always have to go to the bathroom together?’ I hear Logan mutter. ‘Like, is there some incredible secret to the girls’ room we’re missing out on?’
‘Like the teachers’ lounge in junior high,’ Ben agrees, and they both start laughing.
‘Boys,’ Amanda mutters to me, and I laugh. In the bathroom, we both avoid the middle stall, which has the door mostly shut but a vomit-inducing stench emanating from it. After I wash my hands, I lean over the counter to look in the mirror and get rid of the smudged eyeliner at the corner of my eye with a fingertip.
Amanda leans into the mirror as well, checking her teeth.
‘It’s nice, having you around,’ she says, out of the blue.
‘Oh, um. Thanks.’
‘You’re actually really fun. Don’t take that the wrong way, it’s just – you know, you always looked a little grumpy. I thought you were just one of those girls.’
‘Right . . .’ I blink, a little lost, but I listen anyway.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m just trying to say that it’s nice having you as part of the group.’
She doesn’t add something about Allie, or Todd – she just grins at me. And I beam right back at her.
They really do think of me as part of the group by myself, not just an extension of somebody else, someone they’ll hang out with for the sake of their other friends.
‘So,’ she says, lowering her voice a little, and taking some ChapStick out of her purse, ‘you and Todd.’
Oh, there it is.
‘What about me and Todd?’
‘You two are pretty cozy.’
‘You think?’
She giggles, and rolls her eyes at me. ‘Don’t look so freaked out. I’m just saying – you broke up with your boyfriend, and you and Todd . . .’<
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‘Oh, no, we’re not – we aren’t – not like that,’ I stammer.
She shrugs. ‘Okay.’
‘Why? Are you interested in him?’ I smile, a confidential sort of smile that encourages her to tell me a secret. The kind of smile I haven’t been able to share with anyone in a long time. I didn’t realize how much I missed girly chats like this. I’d always listen to Naomi and Eliza and Danielle talking and gossiping like this, but I never felt like I could really join in, even if I tried.
‘No!’ She shakes her head, like she finds the idea amusing. ‘I was just really curious, and I figured that you’d be better at answering than Todd. Sometimes boys aren’t so great at realizing when a girl likes them.’
‘But I don’t like him – not like that.’ I push the door open, walking out of the bathroom and holding it for Amanda. ‘Really.’
‘Really?’ She scoffs, and raises her eyebrows at me, but not in a mean way. ‘Are you sure? Because your face is almost as red as your hair.’
I stop in my tracks for a second. She didn’t say it nastily, more in a teasing, friendly way, but the words themselves hit me hard. She strides past me and I stumble after her, and wriggle back into the corner of the booth, half-sitting on Todd’s lap before I get to my spot.
‘You okay?’ he mumbles in my ear.
‘Sure I am, why?’
‘You just look a little flustered. Did Amanda say something to you?’
‘No, it’s – never mind.’ I smile. He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push me, and I’m glad. But I’m distracted the rest of the evening – suddenly acutely aware of his leg pressed against mine and my foot resting over his, and our arms overlapping on the table.
I remember when I first started dating Josh, and my palms would turn clammy whenever we held hands. He was my first proper boyfriend: I’d had a date for the junior prom, and that was awkward and exciting, but things with Josh were different. They were so much more serious.
I felt clumsy when it came to guys, and not in that adorable rom-com way. Being with Josh was a learning curve for the first few months – becoming comfortable with a kiss on the cheek before parting ways for class, or holding hands in the hallways, and not clashing teeth when I tried to surprise him with a kiss.