by Gina Ciocca
“I swear I didn’t. Why would you think I did?”
David leaned back in his seat and fiddled with his pencil. “Because of the huge basket of stuff your parents sent.”
“Wait—what? When was this?”
“Months ago. I thought you would’ve called.”
I sank in my chair, feeling small and god-awful. The real meaning of his words came through loud and clear: I thought you’d be there for me when I needed you.
But I hadn’t been.
The unmistakable bitterness in his words sat heavy in my stomach. Prickles of heat spread over my body, and for a second I thought I might really be sick. My mind refused to digest what he’d told me. Instead of thinking his father’s cancer might have brought David and me back together, my own parents had thought I wouldn’t care?
My hand moved toward him and my lips parted, but to say what, I didn’t know.
I didn’t get a chance to say anything at all, because Violet bounded into the classroom at that moment. She spotted David, froze, and threw a frantic glance from him to me and back again. I stood up and removed my bag from her chair. “David,” I said. “This is Violet. Violet, David.”
“Hi!” Violet thrust her hand out with an enthusiasm only the quintessential cheerleader could muster. Which she was. Take short, cute, bouncy, and blond, inject them with caffeinated lattes and dress them in a purple and yellow flowered sundress, and behold Violet Kensing. “You weren’t here yesterday! Did you switch so you could be in Kelsey’s class? I heard you two were friends!”
Way to up the awkward factor, Vi.
David flashed his most swoonworthy grin as he shook her hand. “Nah. My schedule was all screwed up. I spent my whole lunch in the office yesterday trying to straighten it out. They had me in Pruitt’s class, but it was full. I have a feeling I’ll like it better here anyway.”
Violet giggled. “I think this might be my favorite class now.”
Oh, for the love. That hadn’t taken long at all. Girls had always thrown themselves at David. Some things never changed.
And some things did.
A bubble of something hot and sour rose up in my chest, something I either couldn’t or didn’t want to identify. Whatever it was, it made me want to take the hair Violet kept tossing flirtatiously over her shoulder and yank it out of her head.
My concentration drifted for the rest of class. Especially once Violet slipped me a note. It said, “I’m inviting him to my party.”
I wrote back, “What party?”
“The party I decided to have five minutes ago. MUST GET HIM ALONE! P.S.: Is he a good kisser? P.P.S.: You don’t mind, do you?”
A good kisser? Why would she say that?
She’d drawn a deranged-looking smiley face in the corner, and I wondered if it was to distract me from the fact that she was asking permission to treat my best friend as her shiny object du jour. Former best friend. Why was I gripping my pen so tightly?
I sent the note back with, “I don’t know. He’s all yours.”
A smirk appeared on Violet’s face when she read my response, and a moment later the note landed back on my desk. She’d drawn an arrow pointing to the words “I don’t know” and written “LIAR!” in big block letters. Another arrow pointed to “He’s all yours,” which she’d boxed off so heavy-handedly that she’d almost gone through the paper. Next to it, with equal vigor, she’d spelled out “I HAVE IT IN WRITING! HE IS MINE!”
My fingers twitched as I fought the urge to write Until you get bored with him. Instead I forced a smile and passed the paper back to her. This was a good thing, after all. If David had his hands full with Violet, he wouldn’t be thinking about me, or the things we’d said and done, or not said and done, last year. We could start all over, and for that I should have been grateful.
Violet propped her chin on one hand, pretending to be engrossed in Mr. Ingles’s lecture. With the other hand, she wiggled her fingers against David’s back until he turned enough to take a note from her. I watched him read it, then turn around and nod, grinning that grin I knew so well.
I definitely should have been grateful.
“Should” being the operative word.
Six
Connecticut
Fall, Freshman Year
I spotted David at his locker a couple of weeks after school started and had to do a double take. I loved his recent short haircut, but I still wasn’t used to it, and that morning he’d added another new thing to the mix: a navy and white Yankees jersey I’d never seen him wear before—and I’d seen him a lot. Not only did we have three classes together, but when he and his father had arrived in Norwood, my family welcomed them to the neighborhood by helping to unload the U-Haul. For their whole first week we’d taken turns grilling in our backyards until they had a chance to get their kitchen unpacked.
“Hey,” I said as I came up next to him.
David looked up and promptly eyed the stack of college pamphlets I was trying to shove into the front pocket of my book bag. “Holy brochures, Kelse. Are you planning on graduating four years early?”
I answered him with my best soft-voiced imitation of Mrs. Malone, my guidance counselor. “It’s never too early to think about the future.” The zipper closed over the bulging compartment, and I nodded toward his jersey. “Go Yanks. Nice shirt.”
David puffed his chest, pretending to model it. “Thanks. My dad gave it to me for my birthday.”
“Last year?”
“Uh, no.” A shy smile pulled at his lips. “Today.”
My books almost slipped out of my hands. “David! Today is your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Eh, it’s just another day. Nothing to make a big deal over.”
“Of course it is! Everyone should feel special on their birthday! I would’ve brought balloons and decorated your locker if I’d known.”
“No offense,” he laughed. “But in that case, I’m kind of glad I didn’t tell you.”
I gaped at him. New kid or not, someone as nice as David didn’t deserve to have his birthday pass with no fanfare at all.
I found Eric at his locker after lunch. He and I had known each other forever. But ever since Amy Heffernan had dared him to kiss me and he’d done it, the awkward factor kept ratcheting up between us. He’d apologized, and even asked me out a few times, which I suspected was more about the desire to save face than actual interest in me. But then he’d tried to kiss me for real, and the way he used his tongue like an overexcited puppy made me pull back and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I also may or may not have said “yuck” out loud. . . . And even though I’m sure his assessment of the kiss was similar, he was highly insulted.
So the fact that I still felt more comfortable talking to him than to Maddie lately was saying a lot.
“Hey,” I said as he dropped books onto a mass of compacted papers and gym clothes. “Can we do something tonight for David’s birthday?”
“Sure.” He slammed the metal door and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. “Maddie’s brother already bought a bunch of beer for her party this weekend. I’ll bet we could get some people to go down to the lake and celebrate.”
He emphasized the word “celebrate” with a giant grin that showcased his unusually square teeth—and also told me he was way more excited for an excuse to drink beer than to actually acknowledge David’s birthday.
When had my friends become so enthralled with the challenge of smuggling booze into their bloodstream? It was like puberty had triggered some need to experiment, and I was clearly missing the hormone.
“Oh. That wasn’t really what I had in mind.”
“Then why not just invite him to the party? Do we have to do something today?”
I didn’t get a chance to tell him that, technically, Maddie hadn’t even invited me to her party, because she came aroun
d the corner at that moment with Amy Heffernan. The carefully curled ends of Maddie’s chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her pink-glossed lips pursed conspiratorially as she and Amy exchanged the gossip du jour. They sported matching charm bracelets around the arms holding their designer bags in place, like they were modeling them. Must’ve been nice to have gainfully employed parents.
I remembered the days when Maddie couldn’t even wear earrings because her ears would get infected, or drink milk because it made her sick. Now she had three piercings in each ear, plus a tiny diamond stud in her nose, and her stomach had no problem at all with frequent vodka ingestion.
“Hey,” Eric said before I could open my mouth. “Do you mind if we invite the new kid to the party this weekend?”
An awkward laugh that Maddie tried to pass off as happy surprise skittered from her throat and she wound her finger into the green and white fabric of her dress. “Oh! You’re coming, Kelse? That’s great.”
I bit back my response of Am I invited? to spare myself her inevitable and insincere Of course! Instead I twirled the frayed hem of my jean shorts and asked, “Will Sloppy Ho be there?”
Maddie’s lips thinned. “Kelsey, you really need to stop calling her that. Everyone is over it.”
During the summer Maddie had started dating Jared Rose, younger brother of Norwood’s sophomore queen bee, Isabel. That was the start of Maddie’s metamorphosis. Her hair, her makeup, her party girl reputation—none of that resembled the Maddie Clairmont I’d been friends with since first grade. The one who, like me, didn’t make a full-time job of impressing people. Lately it was like she’d tried on some sort of Isabel Halloween costume and forgotten to take it off.
Anyhow, on the first day of school, I’d stood behind Isabel in the lunch line and Maddie stood behind me. My blood had come to a slow boil as I pushed my tray toward the register, listening to Isabel and the girl in front of her ruthlessly pick on the freshman exchange student.
“She has a mustache,” Isabel’s friend said with a shudder. “There’re, like, things you can do for that. Fucking do it already.”
“And she’s a moron.” Isabel stopped texting long enough to wave her hand in disgust. “I’ve heard the place you’re conceived affects the person you become. Her parents must’ve done it on a toilet bowl, because she’s dumb as shit.”
They burst into laughter, and that was it. Before I could stop myself, I rammed my tray into Isabel’s as hard as I could. It bumped against her mammoth purse, which slid off her shoulder and hit the edge of her tray, catapulting the contents of a sloppy joe sandwich all over the bag, which probably cost more than a year’s worth of lunches.
She’d given me a lifetime supply of evil eyes since then, claiming I’d done it on purpose. Which, of course, I had. She and her friends practically hissed at me every time we passed in the halls. In return, I called her Sloppy Ho behind her back.
But the worst part? The way Maddie had rushed to Isabel’s defense and not mine. The way she was doing right now.
“And of course she’s invited,” Maddie continued. “You can bring David if you want to, but don’t start any trouble.”
My mouth dropped. We might not have been on a level playing field anymore statuswise, but I didn’t deserve to be lectured like some punk from the wrong side of the tracks. “Why don’t you get your head out of your ass, Maddie? Or maybe I should say out of Isabel’s a—”
“Hey!” Eric laughed as he pulled my arm. “No catfights in the hall. Here, kiss and make up.” He propelled me toward Maddie, and I took two stumbling steps in her direction before snapping out of his grip.
“On second thought,” I said, looking right into Maddie’s eyes, “I think I’ll skip the party.”
I turned around and shoved past Eric, knowing I was headed in the wrong direction but not willing to sacrifice my dramatic exit or my pride.
“What about David’s birthday?” he called after me.
I didn’t turn around. “I’ll figure it out myself.”
The moment I stepped off the school bus that afternoon, I hurried into the kitchen, tossing my book bag along the way. I needed something I could whip up in a hurry for David. I reached into a cabinet and grabbed a cookie sheet, deciding baked goods was the way to go.
“Kelsey?” Mom called as the metal clanged its way onto the counter. “What are you doing?”
“I need to use the oven. Today is David’s birthday and I didn’t have a gift. I want to make chocolate chip cookies.”
“I have balloons left over from Daddy’s birthday. Do you want me to blow some up for you?”
“Sure. And maybe I can make him an IOU for a gift or something.”
A little while later, with cookies, balloons, and IOU in tow, I headed through our backyard to the woods. David lived around the corner, and with all the times we’d been to each other’s houses, it hadn’t taken long to figure out that walking or riding our bikes through the streets was actually the long way. If I cut across my backyard and kept going, I’d end up in his yard, and vice versa.
A few minutes later I emerged in the clearing and tiptoed around to the front, fumbling to ring the doorbell with my armload of goodies. Mr. Kerrigan answered the door.
“Kelsey!” he said. “What’s all this?”
He held the door for me and I stepped inside the house. With the exception of the décor, our homes were identical: small, boxy split-levels. Except the Kerrigans’ layout was the reverse of ours, and it always made me feel like I’d stepped into a bizarro alternate universe where everything was the opposite of what it should be.
“Your son failed to mention he had a birthday coming,” I said.
“Ah, he never lets me make a fuss over him either. Too old for that now, I suppose.”
“Who’s old?” David poked his head down from the stairwell. A look of surprise rippled over his face when he saw me. “Kelse? I thought you were going out with Eric this afternoon.”
David had asked if I wanted to do math homework together after school, and I’d fibbed about having plans. But after what had happened in the hall earlier, I didn’t care to make plans with Eric or anyone else. Except David.
I held up the dish of cookies and flushed, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I lied. Happy birthday.”
The smile on David’s face, the way he looked completely mortified and thoroughly flattered all at once, made it entirely worth it. We stood there grinning like idiots at each other until David finally said, “Come on up. Now that you’re here I can help you with those math problems.”
Mr. Kerrigan snatched a cookie from a spot where the hastily applied plastic wrap had come loose, winking at me as he took a bite. He sent me off with a pat on my back, and I followed David upstairs. As I set the plate down, I noticed a silver medal sitting inside an open box on his desk. It was a religious medal, the kind my aunt Tess kept in the glove box of her car. It was supposed to be like a guardian angel watching over you on the road.
“Is that for when you start driving?” I asked.
“Yep, another gift from my dad. I’ll need all the help I can get with the hunk of junk I’ll be cruising in.”
“You’re getting a car? Nice!”
“Not for a while, and ‘scrap metal’ might be a better term, but yup. ‘They see me rollin’. They hatin’.’ ”
“Oh my God.” I laughed. “Quoting bad rap lyrics? I think you need a cookie.”
As I started to unwrap the dish, I saw three birthday cards standing up on his desk. One from his mother, one from his father, and one that looked handmade. Let me rephrase that: and one that had clearly been handmade by a girl.
I tilted my head to see the signature, then wrinkled my nose in confusion. It was signed, “xoxo, Amy.”
“Amy Heffernan made you a birthday card?” I picked it up to look more closely. “How did she even know?”
“ ‘Xoxo,’ huh? That’s some advanced español.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Hugs and kisses don’t mean anything in Spanish? I think Miss Amy is trying to say a little more than feliz cumpleaños.”
David cocked his head. “Do you sign your cards to Eric with x’s and o’s?”
I was fairly certain that if I’d ever given Eric a card, I definitely hadn’t signed it with x’s and o’s, and never would. Especially since our “relationship” had fizzled like a defective firecracker before it even started.
“No,” I said. “And I didn’t sign my IOU with x’s and o’s either, but I think you’ll get the point.” I grabbed the piece of paper off the cookie dish and handed it to him.
“Kelse! All this is enough.” He motioned toward the cookies and balloons. “You don’t have to make a big deal.”
“But it’s your birthday! Presents are, like, a rule.”
“I don’t need anything.”
He could be so exasperating. “Okay, but do you want anything?”
David’s lips twisted in thought as he ran his fingers over the edge of the IOU. “You have English class with Amy, don’t you?”
“Second period, every day.”
“Maybe you could ask her what she thinks of me?”
Ick. He was actually interested in her? “We’re talking about birthday gifts, David, not pimp services.”
“But you said you wanted to give me a gift!” His eyes widened with disbelief. “Favors count.”
“Ew, you’re serious, aren’t you? You could do so much better than Amy Heffernan. She’s gross.”
“Geez, Kelse. No one can accuse you of not telling it like it is.”
“It’s a talent.”
David threw his hands up with a laugh. “Fine. Maybe she’ll be at Maddie’s party this weekend. If I have enough to drink, I can ask her myself.”