Roman was up first. He put his hand out to Chad, “’Sup, Chad?”
Chad looked confused and had a smile on his face like, “What’s going on here?” But he put his hand out. “Hey, Roman. How’s it goin’?”
And Roman nodded at him and then at me, like, “I approve.”
Now it was Becca’s turn, but she just wanted to tease him a little. “Hey, Chad. You guys have fun. Bring a wookie home for me, ’kay?”
Next, Mom came over and shook his hand. She was in total dork-mom mode. “Hi, Chad. It’s so good to see you again! You’ve gotten so tall!”
(Cringing. Stop embarrassing me, Mom!)
I tried to rush him out the door. Escape.
“Well, we’ve gotta go, you guys. Chad’s mom’s waiting for us.”
“Have fun, you two,” Mom said and gave me a quick hug. And she looked at me, and her face was all glowing and excited, and she was practically giving me the thumbs up sign. God. I was kind of just a little bit mortified, embarrassed, by the whole scene. Poor Chad. But he was cool with it. He looked at me after we closed the front door behind us.
“Well, that was interesting.”
“Just wait till Jill sees you next time.”
And we laughed. And then I realized that I’d just mentioned the next time we went out, and I cringed. I casually looked over at his face for a sign, and all I saw was a little smile.
When we got into his mom’s minivan, I saw two other couples—Chad’s friend Josh with Alexa, and Rose with Darrell. She gave me a little hug and a “Hey, girl!” and scooched over for me as Chad sat up front with his mom.
So it really was a date.
And it was a double feature, Star Wars with The Empire Strikes Back. Four hours of Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker and robots and stuff.
Chad’s mom dropped us off, and we got in line for tickets. He paid for mine, telling me to put my wallet back.
“Your money’s no good here,” he said, waving me away.
This was momentous. No one had ever bought me a movie ticket before. I mean, besides my parents. My body buzzed with excited energy; my feet weren’t even touching the ground.
Rose and Darrell went into the theater to find seats while the rest of us stood in the snack line. There were stormtroopers and Luke Skywalkers and a couple of Yodas—a paradise for dorks. A woman in a gold bikini walked by with her Cinnabon braids, and Chad and I looked at each other like, “Wow, that’s unfortunate,” since she was about fifty pounds too big to rock that look. But I gave her an A for effort.
“I am a little disappointed that you didn’t wear your gold bikini, Stacy,” Chad said, and we burst out laughing. We looked at each other with these big, goofy smiles, then he leaned over—in the middle of the popcorn line—and kissed me. He kissed me. And I didn’t feel the lightning bolt. No, I didn’t feel it, because I’d left my body for just a second, and I was floating somewhere up in the clouds. When I came back down, he was still kissing me.
I was thinking—what is that? Music? I’m hearing music. (Okay, it was “The Imperial March” playing in the background.) But that’s not what I’m talking about. It was more like angels singing, and I was lost for a second in this kiss. It was soft and gentle and sweet, and I kind of wanted to cry, because it was so beautiful, and it felt like I’d been through so much, and I never thought in a million years things would turn out this way. It felt like everything sad had faded away and been replaced with one beautiful, amazing kiss.
He leaned his head back—our kiss was over—then looked into my eyes, which were full, like I was about to cry any minute. And I almost did cry, because I was so happy, but I didn’t.
“Are you okay?”
“Chad, I’m more than okay.”
We stayed there in the popcorn line, and we kept grinning at each other, these big, goofy grins. We were kids again. And I asked him, “Do you think we could try that one more time?” (Because I just wanted to check to see if it was still as good the second time and not a fluke.)
“Absolutely.”
And it was. Pure magic and wonder and bunnies jumping over fields of flowers. Sunlight and rainbows and everything good.
We got our popcorn and drinks in one of those little cardboard boxes. Chad was carrying it in his right hand, kind of bunching it up against his body, and holding my hand with his left, and I was happy. That’s right. I was happy. My body was tingling all over, and I felt all mushy inside. I looked over at him as he struggled to carry the box and hold my hand at the same time, and he had the biggest smile on his face that I think I’ve ever seen in my life.
As we watched our movies, we held hands until they’d get too sweaty, and then we’d wipe them off on our pants, and then hold hands again. And I really couldn’t tell you much about the movies. Oh, Luke Skywalker makes it out alive; he wins or something. And that’s about all I can tell you.
Life is funny. Sometimes it can be beautiful and good, and sometimes the boy that you thought you’d never be interested in, in a million years, is the one who takes your breath away. Sometimes life is like that.
June 12 -
Graduating
I sat on the edge of the bathtub watching Becca put on her eyeliner in front of the bathroom mirror as she got ready for graduation. She dyed her hair solid fuchsia in celebration, and I have to say, she looked fabulous.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said as she applied her black lip liner (because she likes her maroon lipstick outlined in black.)
“Totally weird,” I said back. But really, it wasn’t weird at all, Becca graduating from high school. It was the most normal thing she could have done. I sat watching her do her makeup and felt proud. Somehow she’d managed to make it through everything—this crazy, mixed-up year. She’s pretty amazing, my sister.
Mom was floating on clouds but seemed nervous about getting us to the stadium on time, asking us every two minutes if we were ready to go.
I waited for Chad, who was coming with us so we could hold hands while we sat through the principal reading off the million or so names, waiting to see Becca and Roman in their cap and gown.
After the ceremony, we went to Roman’s house for a little party. I think Roman’s parents were secretly relieved that he made it through high school (and Becca too).
When we got there, cars were already lined up on both sides of the street.
Roman’s parents greeted us, giving hugs and kisses. Sylvia said, “I’m so proud of you, mija,” and wrapped her arms around Becca, who looked ridiculously happy. Julio was proud, shaking our hands and kissing our cheeks before leading us out to the backyard.
It was mass confusion as I introduced Chad to Roman’s family—the dozens of aunts and uncles, Roman’s brothers Tom and George, his little sister Letty.
When I said “little party,” what I really meant to say was “huge.” At least two hundred people, mostly family, crowded into every corner of the house and backyard. Outside, paper lanterns hung from the trees with strings of white twinkle lights, and a woman stood in front of a large grill making tacos. (Now this is what I call a party.)
Roman’s little sister Letty was adorable in her bowling shirt and rockabilly bangs. Even though she’s only thirteen, her eyeliner was a work of art. Roman’s tall and skinny like their dad, but Letty’s short and kind of shaped like an egg—just like their mom. She carried a tray of tequila shots, passing them out to the adults.
Chad and I found the last two plastic chairs and a spare few feet of grass in the corner of the yard under a lemon tree, and we sat with our taco plates on our laps and watched as the mariachi band strolled over to serenade us. They looked spectacular in their black and silver mariachi suits, and I tried not to giggle when they played right in front of us. Then when the song was over, they started another one that sounded exactly the same.
Chad looked at me and said under his breath, “How much do you think I need to pay them to leave us alone?”
“How much have you got?”
We laughed, and they moved on to the next group. We ate our tacos. (They were ridiculous.)
It was cool out, a little breeze rustled through the trees, and I looked up at the moon and stars. I counted all five of them hanging there in the sky (because this is L.A. after all). Chad made his move, taking my face in his hand and turning it toward him. He kissed me in the moonlight. All of the party noise faded into the background. We were in our own world, and I wanted it to stay like that forever.
We kissed under the twinkling lights, then I leaned my head against his shoulder and watched Letty passing out the tequila shots to her aunts and uncles. Mom already had at least three, maybe four. She’d been knocking them back with Roman’s Aunt Gloria, and it seemed that she had become slightly hammered. Naturally we teased her—Chad thought she was hilarious—and Roman ended up driving us home. Becca sat up front; Chad and I sat in the back with Mom between us; Mom’s head rested on my shoulder.
June 13 -
About Realizations,
Transitions,
And Moving On
So Becca and Roman have graduated. In a way, it feels like I’ve graduated too. I’ve graduated from pain and depression to hope and—can I say it?—light. Happiness. There’s been so much disappointment and loss, and I’ve realized that some things you lose are permanent, some things you lose come back, and some things turn out to be better off lost forever.
Becca lost her mind, then she got it back again. One boy I lost, and I will never get him back; one boy I lost but never really wanted in the first place; and one boy I lost and then found again.
Some days, I look at the other kids at school with their problems that I can’t really relate to, and I feel so much older—a lifetime older—but then, they probably think the same thing about me.
I’ve learned that I don’t have to live in sadness—there’s not some cruel requirement that I should feel guilty about being happy—but I can drop by and visit those sad places whenever I want to. Hopefully, though, not too often.
I still think about death a lot—the big questions of what happens to us and where we go when we die. I picture Dad and Bobby in Heaven together because I think that the people who meant the most to you during your life must have some kind of a connection up there. I don’t think it all just stops. Why would it? I picture them playing backup in Jimi Hendrix’s band. It’s their own version of Heaven.
Everything’s changing, and I guess maybe that’s the other lesson I’ve learned. Things change. And it’s not just me; I’m not the only one going through changes. It seems like everyone and everything in my life is either in the middle of changing or is about to change.
Jill graduated at the end of May, and now she goes on to graduate school.
Mom’s not seeing Alex anymore. She told me it just didn’t feel right, and I get that. (Maybe it was the jokes.) But there’s someone out there for her when she’s ready; this I know.
Becca starts college in the fall, and Roman’s going to art school, but they’ll get through it. I definitely see beautiful little goth babies in their future.
Summer’s still in love with her Marine, and her mom Evelyn is planning her wedding to Gary. It’ll be a small wedding, only two hundred or so of her closest friends, because this is wedding number four, after all, and she doesn’t want to go overboard.
Daria’s still stalking Coach Rob, and he’s still getting married sometime over the summer at an undisclosed location.
I talked to Becca’s student advisor for the school newspaper, and she’s offered me a spot on staff next year, so one day maybe I’ll take over Becca’s editor-in-chief position.
Mom and I have a trip planned to the beach, just the two of us, to spend a few days with the sun and sea lions.
Oh, and Chad is a major part of my summer plan, which involves the two of us holding hands as we stare into each other’s eyes by the light of a silver moon.
I’m still seeing Joy, but we’ve cut my sessions down to once a month, just to check in.
So everything changes, yet in a way, everything stays the same, if that makes sense. Oh, I don’t know. But I like my family—I know they’ll always be there for me, and that will never change.
Some people look at their families and see flaws, or maybe wish they had a different one altogether. When I look at mine, maybe Becca is strange and Jill’s bossy, maybe I wish my mom didn’t have to work so hard, always worried about bills, but through everything, I wouldn’t change a thing about them. Not much.
Somehow my family and I have gotten through it all, and I’m really looking forward to kissing Chad. So it looks like it’s going to be a great summer.
(Did I mention I’m planning to kiss Chad a lot?)
June 25 -
Mental Inventory Revisited
Lately when I’ve been going over the list in my head of things that don’t suck, it goes something like this:
• 1. I have a real boyfriend (not imaginary).
• 2. My sister is normal (for Becca). No goth cheerleader costumes with the sleeves cut off or excessive syrup use.
• 3. My Mom looks like she’s caught up on her sleep and is smiling more often. (And it’s not just because of my bad school pictures).
• 4. Summer and I are friends again.
• 5. I totally rocked math. (Thanks to a sweet boy named Bobby).
• 6. I have money (although not enough to retire).
And…
• 7. My life doesn’t feel like I’ve crawled into a black hole.
Not too bad, if I say so myself.
So I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what normal is. I even asked Joy, and she just laughed and said, “No such thing.”
Am I normal? Well, I still hate school, I still think most of the kids are idiots, and I still feel sometimes like I’m an alien from another planet observing the habits of Earth teens. I still have no idea, no clue, what normal is. So I think I’ll just shoot for normalish.
Acknowledgments
There are many people I’d like to thank: Ellen Brock, my superb editor; and my husband, Steven, for his creative expertise. A special thank you to Marissa Walsh for her comments and suggestions (and for loving Stacy). Thank you to my beta readers: to Steven, whose critiques were always welcomed (eventually); Laura Goodman, whose wonderful stories I hope the world is able to enjoy one day; and Melinda Taylor for being such a cheerleader of this project. Thank you to my mother-in-law, Sue, for your love and support; and to my mother, Marian, for being a living example of a working mother who writes (and also for loving Stacy). A big thank you goes out to my son, Andrew, for constantly being a source of inspiration and for letting me bounce ideas around (and telling me when something doesn’t work). Also, a special thank you to the wonderful writers I’ve met these past few years, and to the community over at Absolute Write for their collective wisdom. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my sisters Mary, Kathy, and Jenny, and our dear brother, Jon, whose presence is always near.
Lastly, a big thank you to the readers. This book wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you!
About the Author
California girl Margaret Lesh lives with her husband and son in a quiet suburb near Los Angeles. She writes middle grade, young adult, and women’s fiction. When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about baked goods, especially donuts, far too often. She believes tacos are magic.
• Visit her website: www.margaretlesh.com
• Amazon: www.amazon.com/Margaret-Lesh/e/B009M7NUVI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
• Blog: storyrhyme.com/jcsblog
• Twitter: @MargaretLesh
• Facebook: facebook.com/pages/Margaret-Lesh-Author-Page/275437492511550
Table of Contents
Legal
Dedication
August 18 -
August 22 -
August 22, Later -
August 22, Even Later -
August 29 -
September 5 -
September 12 -
September 13 –
September 15 -
September 17 –
September 18 -
September 20 -
September 20, Later –
September 22 -
September 25 -
September 29 –
October 1 –
October 1, Later –
October 4 -
October 7 -
October 8 -
October 10 -
October 10, Later -
October 10, Even Later -
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