Tangled

by Carolyn Mackler

  Oh, and then there’s the fact that in every story where a teenager befriends someone online and goes to meet them in person, said teen invariably ends up molested and bludgeoned. Then again, I know this girl isn’t a violent criminal or a forty-year-old man. I know because…well…I don’t want to go into it right now, but trust me on that one. Even so, when I got her invite, I froze in terror. Because—to put it bluntly—I’m just not the kind of guy who journeys off to meet pretty girls in big cities.

  But. Yes, there’s a but. Two of them actually.

  But #1: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her invitation.

  But #2: Maybe I don’t know what kind of guy I am, after all. Or maybe just because I was a certain way for sixteen years, that can change. Look at my brother. He’s definitely been changing these past few months. He said so himself last week: “It’s like you wake up one morning, O, and decide that how you’ve been in the past doesn’t have to define who you are in the future. Simple as that.” I thought that was cool to hear, especially from my big bro.

  All of this to say: I’ll meet you there. Under the butterflies. Tomorrow.

  Before I could think twice, I clicked “post,” and then quickly checked my Buddy List. Sure enough, she was online, but she wasn’t IMing me. The guy on the other computer glanced over. I realized I still had the lei around my neck. I chucked it in the trash and refreshed the screen. Still nothing. I went onto the Greyhound site and jotted down some schedule information. I hit “refresh” again. I looked up the address of the children’s museum.

  By the fifth “refresh,” a new post had appeared on my blog.

  What Kind of Guy You Are: A Guest Blog from Miz J

  posted July 11 at 8:46 pm

  A few hours (and nine minutes) ago, I invited a guy to meet me in New York City. Have I mentioned I’m only sixteen and don’t even live in the city? But I invited him because sometimes you just have a feeling about someone. Oh, and I happen to have keys to an apartment on Central Park West, which happens to be empty this week because the occupants happen to be in Brazil and my friend happened to mention I could crash there whenever I wanted. Okay, I’m rambling.

  Back to the invite. When my grandma had a stroke in May, it propelled me into a “carpe diem” stage of life. No use muddling around waiting for life to happen, or feeling bad about myself that it’s not happening. Or maybe I began carpe-dieming back in April, when I met a guy who showed me the importance of taking risks even if you fall on your face. Because that’s really living, you know? So he ended up hurting me. As we all know, he was wrong for me. But I’m glad I met him because, well, it brought me here.

  All of this to say I’ll be under the butterflies. Tomorrow. 5 pm. (That’s when I get off work.)

  By the way, do you know those lines from Juno (best movie ever!) where the dad says to Juno, “I thought you were the kind of girl who knows when to say when,” to which she replies, “I don’t really know what kind of girl I am.” That reminded me of what you said. Of course, in your case, it’s guy (duh). And you’re not pregnant (duh, duh). But I think it means that “who we are” can be a fluid thing, subject to change. Or maybe I’m just rambling again.

  Once I was done reading her post, I could barely breathe. Not in the asthma sense. More like: Is this really happening I think I’m turning purple what the hell have I gotten myself into I’m going to pass out. The business guy got up and left the room. I was still struggling for air when an IM appeared on the screen.

  Miz J: Are you serious? You’re really going to come?

  O-Boy: I’m—wheeze, wheeze—serious. You know, carpe diem and all that.

  Miz J: Deep breath. Take a whiff of your inhaler. So how will you escape?

  O-Boy: I’ll figure something out. You really have a place we can stay tomorrow night? Who are these Brazilian people and will they kill us if we use their apartment?

  Miz J: Definitely not. I helped save the daughter’s life recently so the mom is, like, eternally grateful.

  O-Boy: You WHAT?

  Miz J: Long story. I’ll tell you when you’re here. HERE. Oh my god!

  O-Boy: Hey, how will I recognize you?

  Miz J: I’ll be the girl under the butterflies. If I’m not there for some reason, just ask for Jena. It’s a small place. Someone will find me.

  I took the elevator back downstairs. As I approached the conference room, I could hear bongo drums. I stepped inside. The lights were dimmed and they had fake torches on the table. And there, in the center of the room, was a hula hoop contest. A bunch of girls were rotating hula hoops around their hips, in fierce competition with my roommate, who now had at least a dozen leis around his neck.

  When John’s hula hoop dropped to the ground, I quickly approached him.

  “What’s up, bro?” he asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

  “Listen,” I whispered. “Can I borrow your phone? They took mine away this afternoon.”

  “Yeah,” he said, slipping his cell into my hand. “Just be careful.”

  I nodded and hurried to the bathroom. As soon as I was locked in a stall, I dialed my brother’s number.

  “Hello?” Dakota asked.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Owen? Where’re you calling from?”

  “My phone got taken away this afternoon. That’s why I had to hang up.”

  “Someone took your phone away? Who? Aren’t you in Rochester?”

  “Mom didn’t tell you?” I asked.

  “Tell me what? All I know is that you called me before and said you needed to be saved. I tried you back but your phone was turned off.”

  I swallowed my last ounce of pride and told Dakota about ReaLife to a Real Life. When I was done talking, I braced myself for a verbal reaming, or at least a chuckle at my pathetic expense, but all he said was, “No way. No fucking way. What can I do?”

  “Think of a reason to pick me up. I can’t get out of here on my own. I need someone eighteen or over to sign me out.”

  “As in, dead grandmother?”

  “Maybe that,” I said. My throat got tight as I wondered whether we could pull this off. “Or maybe, I don’t know, I can’t—”

  “Don’t worry,” Dakota said. “I’ll think of something. Do you want me to come tonight? I just have to borrow gas money.”

  “I can survive until morning. And I’ll pay you back for gas.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do. I know what it’s like to be on one of Mom’s exiles. And besides, I’m sort of making up for years of abuse.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. Dakota has never outright acknowledged our less-than-great relationship growing up. Hearing him say it now, I could feel tears stinging my eyes.

  “I’m not saying you didn’t deserve it, O.” Dakota laughed. “But I’m restocking the karma bank and you’re at the top of my list.”

  four

  At seven thirty the next morning, the room phone rang. John was snoring like a broken muffler. I reached over to the table between us and quickly answered it.

  “Is this Owen Evans?” a man’s voice asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “This is Jason. I just got a call from your brother. Something’s come up. A family emergency. He’ll be picking you up in a half hour.”

  He really did it, I thought. Leave it to Dakota.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Jason asked. “You’re probably upset. Want me to send Abby over? She’s good at the counseling.”

  “No,” I said quickly, thinking of her coconut-shell bra. The last thing I needed was a boner when I was trying to look grim. “I’ll be okay.”

  “You’re a minor, so corporate is faxing me some forms for your brother to sign. That’s the only way I can release you.”

  And my mom insisted this seminar didn’t resemble any form of captivity.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk to Abby?” Jason asked.

  “Maybe you could just ask her for my phone back,” I said. />
  “Consider it done,” Jason said. “See you in the lobby in thirty.”

  I took a shower and threw everything into my duffel. I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned to leave the room. John was still comatose. I wondered if he’ll be weirded out to wake up and discover I’m missing. Oh, well. He seems like a social guy so I’m sure he’ll survive. Then again, he was definitely nice to me, nicer than most people here. I grabbed a pen from the desk and wrote a note on the hotel stationery.

  John—

  I’m bailing, bro. All’s fine with me despite what J and A might say.

  Take care and be well.

  Peace,

  Owen

  When I got to the lobby, Dakota was standing by a plastic palm tree, talking to Jason. He was wearing a white baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and he had this frown on his face.

  “Hey,” Dakota said, holding his fist up and knocking it against mine. This is Dakota’s standard greeting. It never ceases to stress me out as I struggle to remember the right way to knock him back.

  “Are you hanging in there?” Jason asked.

  I shrugged. I didn’t know what Dakota had told him, so I didn’t say a word.

  “Listen,” Dakota said. “We better get going. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

  Jason nodded and then handed me my phone and a blue folder. There was a sticker on it with the ReaLife to a Real Life logo. “Abby compiled some things for you,” he said. “We were going to hand them out today. Dude, it’s a bummer that you have to leave. If you want to call corporate, they can probably credit you for another session.”

  “We’ll do that,” Dakota said in his sincerest tone. Then he pointed his visor toward the revolving door.

  I slid the folder into my duffel and followed my brother outside. As we stepped into the warm July morning, I exhaled. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked as we crossed the parking lot, Dakota with his steady stride, and me, romping clumsily next to him. I could see my brother’s car, a dented Taurus with a Brockport Blue Devils bumper sticker. Then I saw another bumper sticker next to it. A DAY WITHOUT SUNSHINE IS, LIKE, NIGHT. Weird. I gave that to him for Christmas last year. Actually, I bought one for me too, which I stuck on my laptop. I thought it was funny in a stupid kind of way. But when Dakota tore open the wrapping paper, he made this face like more weird Owen shit and tossed it aside.

  “I called the hotel when I was about an hour away,” Dakota said. “I just said there’d been a family emergency and I needed to speak to one of the leaders.”

  “You decided not to kill Pauline?” I asked. That’s our grandmother. She surpasses all stereotypes of bitchy old lady.

  Dakota smiled and shook his head. “Tempting, but as I said, I’m working on the karma thing. Besides, we sort of did have a family emergency.”

  “What?”

  Dakota gestured his thumb over his shoulder, back toward the hotel. “That asswipe teaching people how to socialize? Dude, that’s a serious emergency.”

  I laughed, harder than I had in a long time.

  When we got into the car, Dakota offered me a can of Coke and a pack of Nutter Butters. “Breakfast?”

  “Thanks,” I said, tearing open the cookies.

  “I figured you’d be hungry.”

  Dakota started the car. Classic rock blasted from the sound system, the bass pumped high. I studied my brother as he glanced in his rearview and shifted the car into reverse. Sometimes I can’t believe he’s only two years older than me. He seems so confident, driving all the way to Syracuse, taking care of business. Even when I’m eighteen, I doubt I’ll have caught up with Dakota.

  “You want to go to Rochester or Brockport?” Dakota switched on his blinker. “I’m thinking Brockport is probably safer. Mom won’t have any scouts reporting to her. When she gets back from Florida, we can just say you got sick and I picked you up and we didn’t want to bother her while she was on vacation.”

  “Actually…” I spit my retainer into my hand, ate a Nutter Butter, and drank some Coke. “Would you be able to take me to the Syracuse bus station? I looked it up. It’s on the P and C Parkway, off Route Eighty-one.”

  Dakota turned to me. “Why are you going to the bus station? I can drive you home.”

  “I’m not going home,” I said quickly. “I’m taking a ten-twenty-five bus to New York City.”

  “Why the fuck are you going to New York City?”

  “To see a girl.” I ate another cookie and tried to look as casual as possible.

  Dakota stared straight ahead, one hand gripping the wheel. He’s angry, I thought to myself. He thinks I’ve trapped him into this, used him to sign those release forms. In a way, I guess I did. I wondered if Dakota was going to yell or, worse, smack the side of my head. I clutched my hand nervously over my gut. I suddenly had to pee.

  Dakota turned to me. “So who’s the girl? Do you even know her?”

  “Yeah,” I said vaguely. “I know her.”

  Dakota drove down the highway in silence. After a minute, he glanced at me again. “Is she hot?”

  I nearly choked on a Nutter Butter. “Yeah,” I said. “She’s also nice.”

  Dakota ate two of his cookies and then said, “But here’s the problem. Mom would kill me if she found out. You know that, right? She’d kill me, not you. I signed those forms. I drove you to the goddamn bus station.”

  “I think I’m more on the line here,” I said.

  “You don’t understand,” Dakota said. “Let’s put aside any sibling shit right now and lay it all on the table. You’re Mom’s baby. If anything happened to you, my ass would be so far on the line there wouldn’t be any room left for your skinny ass.”

  I stared out my window, picturing Jena waiting for me under the butterflies, wondering why I hadn’t shown up. Or maybe she knew I wouldn’t show. She’s read my blog, after all. She knows I’m a chicken.

  “How important is this?” Dakota asked.

  I turned to him. “Very.”

  “So give me the details.”

  I told him how I’d go to New York City today and meet up with her. We’d already arranged a time and place, and I had plenty of cash from my library job to take cabs everywhere. She had keys to an apartment where we could sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, I’d catch a bus back to Rochester. I’d only be gone thirty hours, but it’d probably be the most significant thirty hours of my life.

  When I said that, Dakota nodded. “Tell me where it is again.”

  “The bus station?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I dug into my pocket and pulled out the map I drew from the computer last night. Dakota glanced over at it. Then he veered off at the next exit and did a quick U-turn in a parking lot.

  Once we were back on the highway, this time heading in the opposite direction, Dakota turned to me. “I have to say, you blew me away just now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe because you’re my little brother, but I just didn’t think that was your style, running away to New York City to meet a cute girl. It’s pretty legendary.” Dakota popped a Nutter Butter and shook his head. “Blew me away.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said. I was trying to sound low-key, but in reality I was swelling with a near-explosive amount of pride. Our whole lives, my brother has never, ever given me that kind of compliment.

  “I’ve met a girl, too,” Dakota said after a minute.

  “Oh, really?” I asked sarcastically. I mean, it’s not exactly a newsflash that Dakota has met a girl.

  “I know, you’re so surprised. But this one is different. First of all, I can’t even call her a girl. She’s in her twenties and has a little kid. And are you really ready to be blown away?”

  I nodded curiously.

  “It’s a platonic deal. We’re just friends and we want to keep it that way. We’ve been writing letters back and forth. She lives up near Pauline and Bill. That’s where I met
her.”

  “Letters?” I asked.

  “Like with an envelope and a stamp.”

  “I’m blown away,” I said. “I’m so far up in the sky the birds can’t even reach me.”

  We both cracked up. A little while later, as Dakota pulled into the bus station, he shifted into park. “I’m going to wait with you.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said.

  “I want to make sure you get on that bus.”

  He reached for his door handle and then paused, leaned across me, and clicked open the glove box. He scrounged around for a second before producing two condoms. “Take these with you,” he said, tossing them into my lap.

  I stared at the orange wrappers. They were extra-large condoms. Dual pleasure. My face flushed. Extra large and dual pleasure are two things I can honestly say I’ve never experienced in my life.

  “I don’t think I’m going to need these,” I mumbled.

  “Take them.” Dakota slugged me in the arm. “The last thing we need is another little you running around.”

  As Dakota stepped out of the car, I sat there for a second, rubbing where he punched me. Some things never change. Then again, I thought as I tucked the condoms into my bag, I guess other things do.