Bevan vs. Evan

by Zoe Evans

  I felt bad about being so MIA. I wanted to tell Jacqui what’s been eating up all my time, but obvi I couldn’t. I can’t wait until tryouts are over already! All this secrecy is exhausting.

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I told her. “I’ve just been really busy. So, Matt has a crush on you, huh. That’s cute!”

  “Please don’t say that,” she whined.

  “Oh, c’mon. I’m just teasing. So, are you going to say yes?”

  “Well, I’ve been saying no for, like, three weeks, but no one else has asked me and I’m starting to reach a breaking point.”

  “Okay, well, keep me posted this time!”

  As I waited for Mom to meet me in the parking lot, I saw Evan walking toward me. I waved at him, but he didn’t wave back. I thought about going up to him, but I was pretty sure the whole not-waving-back thing was deliberate. I felt terrible. Evan is one of my best friends, and now he’s really mad at me. It’s not like I want to go back to how we were before I realized I kind of like him. Not at all. I just wish we could go back to how we were at Just Desserts, before the topic of the Sunshine Dance came up.

  A minute after my wave got rejected I saw Mrs. Andrews’s car pull up to the curb. She saw me and waved (and I waved back, because I’M polite, unlike some people). I could see her asking Evan something, which I assume went something like, “Why don’t we offer Maddy a ride home?” Because that’s something we would usually do. Evan got into the front seat and sat there, shaking his head. I imagine he replied something along the lines of, “Maddy is an evil siren who ripped my heart out and therefore should be forced to walk forever.” But when they drove past me, I DID see him quickly turn to look my way. I don’t know what that means, but I’m going to take it as a good sign. Because right now? I need some good.

  Mom could tell I was in a bit of a mood, so she didn’t push it when I didn’t feel like talking in the car. I put on the radio, and of course a really sad Pink song was playing. Why does that always happen? Why can’t I be in a bad mood, turn on the radio, and find my FAVORITE happy song is playing? It feels like a cruel joke.

  When we got home, I helped Mom with dinner. We were making a big garden salad and risotto, and I was on salad duty.

  Mom and I were both in our own worlds, getting lost in the sounds of cooking. Then she ruined it.

  “So, Madington. I have news.”

  I looked over at her, but she was continuing to stir the risotto in the pot. I knew that lack of eye contact was bad. And whenever Mom announces that she has “news,” I can usually assume it’s something I won’t be too excited about. Like when she told me she and Dad were getting a divorce, she said, “Madington, your father and I have some news.”

  “Okay,” I said, bracing myself.

  “I’m going to be at the Sunshine Dance too.”

  “What?”

  Mom put the stove on simmer. “Mr. Datner and I are going to be chaperones together. I hope that’s okay.”

  Um. No. That’s, like, the OPPOSITE of okay. Why, you ask? Um, because this is a D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R! Who else but me would have a mom who would willingly go to her daughter’s school dance? Doesn’t she know how embarrassing this is going to be? Having your mom show up to your school dance is, like, a fate worse than death. I might as well say good-bye to all my friends now. They’re not going to want to know me when it’s MY mom playing referee at the dance.

  Then I realized, this is going to be even worse than I could imagine. My mom isn’t like other moms. My mom will probably show up to the dance in a supercute dress, looking like she just stepped out of a Bloomingdale’s catalog. All the girls will go up to her and say, “Coach Carolyn, you look stunning!” and all the boys will shyly say hi. She might even be crowned Sunshine Queen and MY LIFE WILL BE OVER.

  “Maddy, say something. I know this isn’t ideal, but won’t it still be fun to get all dressed up together?” Mom was looking at me hopefully.

  Uh, if we were, like, going to a family wedding, maybe. But getting dressed for a school dance? That’s something you share with friends. NOT YOUR MOTHER!!!

  “Ohmigod, Mom. I thought I was having a bad day, but you just made it ten times worse. Why can’t you just be like normal moms, and not date someone from my school and not go to my dance? We talked about this already, and you promised you’d play it cool. This is not cool!”

  I stomped up the stairs to my room, not caring that I would miss dinner. (Besides, I was pretty sure I had a half-eaten bag of M&M’s somewhere in my room. Far from gourmet, but it was something.) Now, on top of stressing about tryouts, Bevan, and Evan, I can add this to the list.

  I still had some work to do on my dress, and that is always a nice little distraction for me. So I went to work.

  Of course, as I was sewing a super-rad layer of tulle under the skirt (volume is so in), I couldn’t help but think how great this dress would look next to Evan and whatever old-school look he’s going to be pulling off. Most guys at our school will show up in standard collared shirts and ties, and maybe jackets. But Evan’s the type to wear his dad’s prom shirt and a jacket from the Salvation Army with a pair of jeans and Converses. Sometimes, even though his way of dressing is kinda out there, I think it’s better to be unique than to look like everyone else. And my dress is sure to stand out. Not because it’s the most expensive dress in town (ahem, Clementine) or because it’s from some chic boutique in L.A. (yes, you, Hilary). But because I’m making it unlike any other dress out there. It’s like the outfits . . . belong together! And who am I to deprive them of their fashionably ever after?

  By the time I bit off the end of the piece of thread I’d used to sew the tulle, my mind was made up. I couldn’t go to the dance with Bevan. It wouldn’t feel right. It wouldn’t BE right. I’m just not interested anymore. Maybe it’s because he’s been so wrapped up in soccer and I know I deserve better. Maybe it’s because I’m finally starting to realize that what I feel for Evan is, like, WAY more than you feel for a friend. Even a best friend. But whatever the reason, the choice was clear. FINALLY!

  I worked up the courage, dialed Bevan’s number, and waited. I wasn’t sure he’d pick up. I mean, if he was around, why wasn’t he calling to say hi? It’d been forever.

  “Hey, Maddy!” he said, when he answered the phone. “Sorry, I only have a sec. What’s up?”

  I could hear the sound of guys talking in the background. I figured he had some friends over. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to say what I was about to say. I would just have to put it out there.

  “Bevan, I’m sorry, but I can’t go to the dance with you.”

  “What do you mean? Is everything okay?”

  He sounded worried, which was cute. But I didn’t want to be going out with someone who only paid attention to me if I got hit by a bus or something.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just . . . things have been different between us, right?”

  Bevan didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I was worried I’d have to repeat the words that took so much courage for me to say. “I guess,” said Bevan finally. “Actually, what are you talking about? Different how?”

  I couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that we hardly hung out anymore and barely spoke to each other at all. Not even in the hallways. Seriously?

  “Bevan, the last time we spoke was at Bowl-o-Rama, like, two weeks ago. We hardly see each other. Maybe that doesn’t bother you, but it bothers me. And hurts my feelings.”

  “Wait, hold on.” I could hear him trying to muffle the phone as he shouted at his friends. “Guys! Shut up! Maddy, I’m going into another room, hold on. Okay, you there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, yes, that’s true. Things have been really busy lately. And I’m sorry I hurt you. But I thought you of all people would understand. It’s not like I’m just goofing off and ignoring you. I’m a hundred percent soccer, twenty-four/seven. You know what it’s like to completely commit yourself to something. Soccer is like my cheer.�
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  I appreciated the fact that he was trying to explain, but it wasn’t really helping. “Yeah, I’m devoted to cheer, and I understand what that’s like. But I make time for the people who are important to me.”

  “Listen, Maddy. I really like you. Don’t you know that?”

  Tug on my heartstrings much? Yes, it was cute and sweet and all that. But the second he said it I knew deep down, no matter how nice it was to hear, it was coming too late. “I’m sorry, Bevan. I wish things were like before, but they’re not. I just feel differently. About everything.” I was thinking about the way that Evan is always there when I need him, and even when I don’t. The way he just seems to “appear” outside the gym when I’m leaving practice. “I need someone who wants to spend time with me, and not just when it works out with his schedule.”

  “Well,” he said. “I’m sorry, I can’t be that way. At least not during soccer.”

  We were both silent for a few moments. I didn’t know how to end this convo. It was so hard—for both of us. I’d never, like, dumped anyone before. I knew it was the right thing to do, but for a right thing it felt incredible wrong. Suddenly, I heard someone talking to Bevan. “Dude! You done hiding from us?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Maddy, I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Hey, Bevan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “Yeah. Okay, I guess I’ll . . . see ya round.”

  “Yeah. See ya,” I said. Although with our track record, I highly doubted I would.

  As soon as I hung up the phone, there was a knock on my door.

  “Sweetie?” called Mom. “Are you sleeping?”

  “No.”

  “Can I come in?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, sure. Why not,” I grumbled.

  Mom came in, dressed in her yoga pants and tank top. She must have been doing one of her “Sun Salutation” videos. She looked pretty Zen’d out. Totally the opposite of how I was feeling at that moment.

  She did her best to clear a spot on the floor next to me, but had to sweep away piles of thread, fabric, and sequins. Luckily, she didn’t comment on the mess or I might have jumped out the window. I was glad I’d had that convo with Bevan, but it didn’t exactly make me feel calmer. I was actually feeling a little guilty, on top of everything else.

  “Madison,” said Mom, “I know you’re not thrilled that I’m going to your school dance.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not thrilled? How about mortified?”

  “Okay,” said Mom. “Fine, mortified.”

  That was better.

  “I knew you wouldn’t really be excited. But I’d hoped you’d react a little better to the whole thing.”

  “Yeah, sorry to disappoint.” I was in a grumpy mood and determined to stay that way, no matter how nice Mom was trying to be.

  Mom’s eyes fell on my dress. She picked it up and held it in front of her. “Wow. This is beautiful! Unbelievable!”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re really something, Madington.”

  This time I couldn’t hold my frown in place. I’m a girl who loves a compliment! What can I say? I can’t help it.

  “I’ve been working really hard on it.”

  Mom touched my knee, signaling that she was about to ask me something I might not want to answer. That’s always how she begins her “serious talks.”

  “What’s really bothering you, Maddy? I know the dance thing made you angry, but you were acting strange before that.”

  I hadn’t told Mom about Titan tryouts. I wasn’t sure what she’d say, what with being the Grizzly coach and all. But deep down, that’s not really why I held back. It’s just, when I didn’t make it last time, the look of disappointment on her face was, like, burned in my brain. I know she loves me and wouldn’t care if I stayed a Grizzly forever, but I guess I’m just afraid that I’ll disappoint her again.

  It was definitely weird not sharing it with her, since she’s always backed me up on everything cheer related. I decided that since she was feeling a little guilty for ruining my dance, it would be a good time to tell her the truth without her getting too mad at me.

  “It’s tryouts. And some other stuff.”

  Mom looked puzzled. “Tryouts? For what?”

  “For the Titans.”

  As the realization hit her, she leaned back on both arms and looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps this is a new yoga pose they call “Oh No She DIDN’T!”

  “Sorry, I’m just a little surprised,” said Mom. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. When did you decide to try out?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, like since winter break. But I didn’t decide to officially try out until a few days ago.”

  “And you didn’t tell me. Why?”

  “Mom, you’re my coach.”

  “I’m your mother. I was your mother long before I was your coach, and I’ll be your mother long after. I support you no matter what you decide to do, you know that.”

  That made me smile. “I know, thanks.”

  “So, is that really why?” she pressed.

  “I guess, maybe, part of me didn’t want to disappoint you again. You know, in case I don’t make it. So I figured, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, sweetie! You could never disappoint me,” she replied, pulling me into a big bear hug (ha-ha, I didn’t even plan that one!). “You have no idea how proud I am of you. No matter what you choose, I know you’ll shine. Besides, you’ve come a long way as a cheerleader. There’s no way they can refuse you now!”

  “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

  “So where have you been practicing?” asked Mom. “I haven’t heard you jumping around your room like you usually do before tryouts.”

  “You won’t believe this, but Katie Parker has been training me during the day.”

  “Aha. You’re a smooth one, Miss Maddy.”

  “Like mother, like daughter,” I teased.

  “So what is the ‘other stuff’ that’s bothering you?”

  “Oh. Well, it’s the dance.”

  Mom frowned. “Why? What happened? I mean, other than me crashing it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, I kind of just dumped my date.”

  Mom let out a slow whistle. “Ohhh. I see.”

  “It wasn’t working out with us.” I shrugged. “Whatever.”

  (Mom + me) x Boy Talk isn’t my favorite equation.

  “But you’re still going to go to the dance, right?”

  “I think so. But anyway, tryouts are what’s most important right now.”

  Mom nodded. “Do you need any help from me?”

  I smiled. “Well, I’ll need you to, ahem, observe our usual pre-tryout traditions: the Waving of the Pom-Pom. The Picking of the Outfit.”

  “You got it. And my lips are sealed. I’ll be sad to see you leave our team, but this is what you’ve always wanted. And you’re right to go after it. You’re gonna be super. Speaking of, you’ll need your energy. I’m bringing you some dinner.”

  “No, no. It’s cool. I’m gonna go downstairs and write a bit, so I’ll just grab something.”

  Mom turned to look at me before she walked out of the room. “One more thing. I promise not to embarrass you too much at the dance.”

  “Yeah, I hope so.”

  “Don’t forget to eat protein!” she shouted behind her.

  “Okay!”

  It’s a good thing Mom always leaves leftovers. All this drama had made me STARVING!

  Tuesday, March 1

  Lunchtime, on school steps

  Song Level:

  Cheer Me a River

  At school today, the first thing on my to-do list was to find Evan. As usual, the first thing that greeted me when I walked through the heavy school doors was that stupid poster for the Sunshine Dance. But by now, some kids had already enhanced it by adding doodles of butts and giving the sun a mustache. Normally I’m opposed to vandalism, b
ut given my feelings on the dance at that moment, I kinda got a kick out of it.

  I usually can find Evan before first period in one of three places: by his locker, by the snack machine, or waiting by his class. I checked his locker: an empty bag of Doritos, no Evan. I checked the snack machine: an empty bag of Cheetos, but no Evan (hmm . . . could there be a meaning behind this mystery junk-food trail?). Finally, I found him walking down the hall toward me, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

  [When he saw me, he smiled a little, then put his head down as if to ignore me.

  I walked up to meet him halfway. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “Can you talk for a minute?”

  Evan looked toward the door to his classroom. “I have to get to class.”

  “Evan, you have, like, fifteen minutes before first bell.”

  “All right,” he said. He buried his hands deep in his pockets and leaned against a nearby locker.

  There was no way to do this other than just get it out there. Like I did with Bevan.

  “I want to go with you to the dance,” I said. And as soon as I said it, I could feel my cheeks flushing bright pink.

  Evan looked shocked. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you say you were going to the dance with Bevan?” When he said “Bevan,” he said it like it had quote marks around it.

  “Not anymore.”

  Evan got a funny look on his face. “Maddy, I’m . . . um, sorry. But—”

  “Evan, c’mon. You can’t be mad at me anymore. I’m practically begging over here.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just, well . . . I’m kind of going with someone else now.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  Just then Katie walked by. She was in a super-happy mood. “Hey, guys! We’re all going to have so much fun at the dance! I’m so excited!” she said, putting an arm around each of us. “Gotta run, talk to you both later!”

  “We?” I asked him.

  Evan nodded. He looked a little sorry.

  I felt like one of those punching bags that Mr. Datner made us drag across the floor.