The Summer of Impossibilities

by Rachael Allen

  “Well, thank you for coming,” I say. “It means a lot.”

  Scarlett shrugs uncomfortably because feelings. “Sure.”

  She goes to sit with Momma in the stands, and I get back to stretching. Then my phone buzzes. It’s from Skyler!

  Sorry I couldn’t make it today.

  Well, at least she cared enough to tell me.

  Also, I don’t think I want to be in the club anymore.

  I feel like I’ve been stabbed. I knew this was bad, but I thought I could apologize and make it better. Now the reality of what I’ve done is hitting me. Skyler and I are never going to be friends again. Because I don’t deserve a friend like her. That’s probably why I’ve never been able to have girlfriends all along. I’m not built for it. And it’s not like I only ruined today or this week or this summer. That thing that our moms have? A life-changing friendship that binds them together for the rest of their lives? We were going to have that too until I killed it.

  The tournament is uneventful. I do pretty well, but I don’t win first place. Emily Rae cheats like a mofo, but at least I didn’t have to play her this time. Everyone pretends I don’t exist. I’m starting to wonder if Scarlett’s going to be confused about why I asked her here in the first place.

  And then it happens. Emily Rae waves her hand over her head to get everyone’s attention before they leave. “Can I talk to y’all for a minute?”

  I walk over because I figure she’s going to bring up the Discord thing, and I want to be able to defend myself.

  Emily Rae comes toward me, smiling. What in the world? But, no, she’s smiling at the girl next to me. She gives her a hug and conspicuously avoids so much as a glance in my direction.

  “I’m so glad you’re here! I really wanted you to hear this!”

  She turns to face the group so that her back is blocking me out. (I do not think this is an accident.)

  “So, I’m having a Fourth of July pool party at my house tomorrow when we get back to DC.” She clasps her hands together like there’s so much excitement, she can’t possibly contain it all. “You’re all welcome to come.

  “We’re going to have a cookout and fireworks. Mace, you’re coming, right? I want to see your new swimsuit.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” replies Macy.

  “Autumn, bring your giant unicorn float, ’kay?”

  Emily Rae does this to all the girls. Well, not all of the girls. Certainly not me, and she leaves out a few others as well. She thinks of some special thing to say to each person to make them know they’re included. And to make sure everyone knows who’s not. Her eyes skim right over me like I’m not there.

  Right. I turn around to leave. And there’s Scarlett waiting for me.

  “C’mon,” says Scarlett.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?”

  “Yep. You’ll thank me later.”

  We get out of her mom’s SUV at a place that looks like a warehouse. There’s a sign that says DINNER BREAK, but I have no idea what that means.

  “Ummm. I was kidding about the kidnapping part.”

  Scarlett just rolls her eyes and leads me inside. She hands a guy at a counter some cash in exchange for a stack of plates. And then she walks me over to stall number seven. There’s a brick wall at the back and partitions to separate us from the other stalls (which are currently empty) and also a counter on which she sets the plates.

  She looks at me like she’s waiting for something.

  “Still not sure what we’re doing here.”

  “We,” she says, “are letting off steam over those malevolent she-demons you play tennis with. Also my loser ex-boyfriend. I take it you’ve never been to a plate-smashing place before, so let me show you how it works.”

  She grabs a plate and flings it at the wall in front of us. It shatters brilliantly.

  “Um.”

  “Try it. I swear it’ll make you feel better.”

  I pick up a plate. Take a step to the right so I don’t accidentally elbow her. “This feels a little ridiculous.”

  “Trust me,” she says.

  I take a deep breath in, let it out, and throw the plate like a Frisbee as hard as I can. It hits the wall with a terrific smashing noise. I feel like a little bit of the poison I’ve been holding inside evaporates. Also like I’m kind of a badass.

  “That was amazing.”

  “Right?”

  Scarlett throws another plate and so do I. We are Olympic discus throwers and over-served Real Housewives and ancient warrior queens defending our kingdoms.

  We’re both panting by the time we get to the end of our plates.

  “So, I guess you’ve figured out I’m a loser,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Those girls at tennis academy think I’m a huge homeschooled loser, and I was pretending to be cool because I thought it would make you guys like me.”

  “Um. Those girls at your tennis academy are snaggletoothed harpies. Well, except for a couple of them who I think might actually be cool if you give them a closer look. Also: It’s time for activity number two.”

  “There’s another one?”

  Scarlett nods. “Oh, yes.” She whips out a notebook and a pen and sets it on the counter in front of us. “I’m going to show you how to make a friendship notebook. Amelia Grace taught me how to make one in eighth grade, and it’s still the best thing ever. What you do is you use the awful things people do to you to help remind yourself of the type of friend you want to be.

  “For example, you can take this page here, and you can write, ‘I will never be the kind of hateful hag who invites every person except one to something. I will be the kind of classyass bitch who waits until the person is gone before politely extending an invitation to other people.’

  “And on this next page, you can put something like: ‘I will always check around if I’m in a group to make sure one person isn’t walking by themselves. I’d certainly never be the kind of rude-ass, backstabbing, spiteful daughter of a sea witch who would make someone walk by themselves on purpose.’”

  I laugh, but I take her notebook and write both things down, hateful hags included.

  “I don’t know about you,” Scarlett says, “but I’m already feeling a great deal better.”

  I grin. “I am. I very much am. Are you really supposed to insult the other people when you write down your pledge?”

  Scarlett winks at me. “That’s an added bonus.

  “Hey, Ellie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you at first. I was dealing with a lot of my own stuff, and I didn’t give you a chance.”

  I kind of can’t believe she admitted it. “Thanks,” I say. “I’m really glad you eventually did.”

  “Me too.”

  I’m feeling good for the first time in days, and then I remember Skyler’s texts.

  “About Skyler—”

  “Yeah, I was going to talk to you about that too. You should try talking to her again. Maybe in a couple days? Based on my years of experience, that’s my best estimate.”

  “I think we’re over,” I say quietly.

  “What? Why?”

  I have to fight to get the words out. “Skyler doesn’t want to be part of the SBDC anymore.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s it. We’re over. I’ve screwed up so badly, I ruined everything and there’s no returning from it.”

  “Are you kidding me? You, with the lists and the plans and the everything? If you give up after this, you’re not who I thought you were.” She puts her hands on both my shoulders like I’m a boxer about to go back into the ring. “You’re going to talk to my sister. And you’re going to apologize again. And this time, you’re going to be brutally honest about all that tennis girl bullshit, because you’re a weirdo, and Skyler’s a weirdo, and you’re meant to be together. You just have to get her to see that.”

  Sca
rlett

  My sister stands with her face pressed against the glass doors that lead onto the back deck of the carriage house. Whispering to herself. Because that’s not weird.

  “Kiss her! Ohmygosh, kiss her already!”

  “Sky, what are you doing?”

  She jumps. “Nothing!”

  I wait.

  “I mean, I was just watching Zoe and Amelia Grace take a walk, and they are so cute, I can’t even stand it. I’m pretty sure Zoe is about to kiss her.” She presses her face back against the window. “Oh, c’mon, kiss her already!”

  Skyler

  How can two human beings bear to stand so close together without actually touching each other? ARE THEY TRYING TO MAKE EACH OTHER SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST?

  “It’s pretty creepy to watch people kiss,” says Scarlett.

  Which, okay. Yes. It is. But also:

  “Why do you have to kill my joy?”

  She narrows her eyes. Sharply.

  Whatever. I’m still inconsolable over Ellie liking Scarlett more than me, and this is cheering me up, so.

  I turn back to the window.

  “Doesn’t it just make you so happy to know that there’s love in the world?”

  Scarlett

  Sometimes I want to slap her.

  When we first found out she had arthritis, I thought something really terrible. I thought, maybe this will make things different, the scale will tip in the other direction, and she’ll be like me now. But no, it only makes her even more perfect.

  “I’m gonna go back to the main house,” I say.

  Skyler turns around all offended. “Seriously?”

  I throw my hands up. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but you’re being exhaustingly happy right now.”

  “Our friends. Are kissing right now. Of course I’m flipping happy.”

  So, they did? I mean, they are? Something pulls me to the glass doors, I’m positive I didn’t walk there on my own. And I’m standing beside Skyler and I’m staring, and she’s wrong. They’re not kissing. Yet. But anyone with a brain can see they’re about to.

  In three.

  Two.

  One.

  Zoe’s lips touch Amelia Grace’s, and I can feel the champagne supernovas from here. I ball my hand into a fist at my side.

  Skyler

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? You were happy for a friend, and it didn’t—” I catch sight of my sister’s face. “Kill you.”

  She tries to rearrange her expression, quick. It doesn’t exactly work.

  “Oh, Scar, I’m so sorry.” I go to touch her arm, but she flinches away.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I never would have set them up if I’d known. You told me you weren’t—”

  “Ohmygosh, Sky, that’s not even it. I’m just upset about something else. Maybe you don’t know what that’s like because nothing bothers you because you’re so damn happy all the time. Or maybe you just don’t feel anything.”

  I shouldn’t clap back, but there’s so much I’ve been pushing down inside me lately, and Ellie’s notebook is in my head and how I’m always less important than my sister in a million other ways, and I can’t help it, I just snap. “Or maybe I feel everything you do, but I keep it all on the inside because I’m not as selfish.”

  “Excuse me?” I hear my sister say, but it barely registers. I am prowling the carriage house in circles, and the feelings, they are bubbling over. “I’ve been trying so hard, and it’s like no one even cares, and oh, sure, Skyler can do it, and Skyler can be the strong one, and I am so freaking tired of having to pretend to be happy when I’m hurting and I can’t play softball. Do you know what that’s like? Having your body turn against you and take away the thing you love most in the world? Do you even know what I’d give to switch bodies with you for a day? You are making lemons out of your lemonade!”

  “That doesn’t even make sense!”

  “Your mom doesn’t make sense!”

  “We have the same mom!”

  I do one of those screams where your hands are clenched at your sides and your mouth is closed and no sound comes out but you are still definitely screaming. And then I launch two middle fingers in the direction of her head because I am nothing if not composed and classy.

  Scarlett

  Sometimes when my sister gets really angry, she looks like a kitten who thinks it’s a lion.

  Skyler

  “It’s not funny! I am so shit-damn angry. I shouldn’t have to do all this stuff just to take my gall-darned fucking medicine.”

  Scarlett

  I know that my snickering is only making the situation worse, but also, I have zero control over it. Did you not just hear her say “shit-damn”?

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, keeping a (mostly) straight face. I take a deep breath so I can pull it together before I say the next bit. “But, Sky, you know you don’t actually have to do that, right? Mama and Daddy would have taken you to the doctor if you’d just asked them. You have to stop hiding that you’re hurt.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It is. You tell them what’s wrong. They take you to the doctor. Bingo. Stop being such a freaking martyr.”

  “You don’t understand!” she grows more exasperated with every breath, but I talk over her:

  “You don’t have to do everything yourself, you just think you have to.”

  She clenches her fists. “I DO have to.”

  “Why?”

  Skyler

  I want to blurt out the truth. That I saw her cutting that day after the fair, and I know it’s my fault. But, angry as I am, I’m scared to let that out in the open. So, instead, I lash out.

  “Because nothing can ever be about me because everything has to be about you. That’s how our family works. That’s how everything works.”

  Scarlett narrows her eyes. “Skyler—”

  I put my hands up. “I don’t have the energy to be around you right now.”

  I stalk out of the carriage house before she can say anything else.

  Scarlett

  I don’t try to stop my sister. There’s no reasoning with her when she’s like this.

  She’s right about Amelia Grace. But it doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like I’m in love with Amelia Grace. I care about her, and she’s my friend, and maybe I just have a gut feeling that Zoe isn’t the one for her. A second gut feeling follows, taking the shape of a question. If Zoe isn’t the one for her, who is?

  But it’s not a question I’m ready to think about right now, so I push it away. Because Amelia Grace is so damn good, and I’m the kind of person who requires energy to be around.

  Amelia Grace

  Zoe drives away in a little motorboat. At least, I think it’s a motorboat. It’s a boat and it has a motor? I’ve been here five weeks, and I still know nothing of rich people and their boats.

  We kissed. She kissed me. But I don’t know.

  I waited. For the fireworks and the shooting stars and the birds singing just for us.

  And I felt. Lips.

  Just lips. Like they could’ve been anyone’s lips. They were nice lips. They certainly weren’t slobbery lips. But it didn’t feel like the entire world was attached to them. Even with Carrie, and the kiss coming totally out of nowhere, I felt . . . something.

  I’m scared.

  Because I felt more yesterday when Scarlett announced she’d broken up with her boyfriend than I did just now when Zoe kissed me. And if I kissed Scarlett, I know it wouldn’t feel like just lips or strawberries or friendship. It would feel like everything.

  If she loved me back.

  Ellie

  I don’t think I have ever been less excited about a party.

  Reasons I should be excited:

  1) It is the Fourth of July, and I have gone full T. Swift with the red, white, and blue clothes. And accessories. And make up.

  2) The moms have given us permission to go to this party because t
here’s parental supervision, and Bennett is picking us up in his boat.

  3) A lakeside bonfire on the beach.

  Reasons I am not:

  Skyler and I aren’t okay yet.

  It’s not like she’s being vile to me Emily Rae–style or icing me out or something. More like: I’ll ask if she wants help picking an outfit that will drive Bennett completely bananas, and she’ll be like, “Sure.” Only, it feels like someone sucked all the excitement out of her voice, and we don’t gush and squeal over him, and I don’t bother bringing up my Instagram stuff, and we’re not glued to each other in the boat on the way over.

  It’s not easy anymore.

  When the boat docks, Skyler rushes off to light sparklers with Bennett, and I don’t chase her. Just watch the friendship I’ve waited my whole life for run away.

  Instead, I have a veggie dog and look for a guy to kiss, and dance around the bonfire like a pixie and look for a guy to kiss, and write my name in the sky with sparklers and look for a guy to kiss. (Spoiler alert: I don’t find one.) It’s not that I’m desperate, but I’ve accomplished everything else on my list for the summer: tennis and PSAT practice and recipes and parties and letters to Ilhan Omar and Halima Aden and Yumna Al-Arashi and Saba Chaudhry Barnard. I like the feeling of completeness. It may also have something to do with the fact that “Make friends” is utterly and completely in the gutter right now. I can’t make Skyler be my friend, but finding some rando to make out with for a sec? That’s within my power.

  Scarlett comes and stands beside me, only not right beside me, because fire hazard.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey.” I light her sparkler with mine.

  “You look about as happy as I feel.”

  I watch Skyler squeeze onto a hay bale with Bennett.

  “Skyler and I still aren’t talking.”

  “Welcome to the club. Did you talk to her yet?”