by AnonYMous
This all probably doesn’t sound that crazy, but for me, it is. The geek table noticed right away. They asked if I had a recital that afternoon and gave me a strange look when I said I didn’t. But a strange look is better than no look at all, right? I’m not sure, but it seemed like it might be worth a try, anyway.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been feeling a little nuts ever since I wrote that last entry. It’s like expressing all those thoughts awoke something strange in me. And I know I should be worrying about my upcoming history test, and I am trying to study, but somehow all my mind wants to think about is what I can do to make myself less me and more . . . someone else. More Ada.
That’s hopeless, I know, but school stuff feels hopeless too these days. If I’m not going to be the brilliant scientist Mom dreams of, maybe I can be cool and exciting at least. Enough so Tyler might know my name. I’d be happy with that.
I don’t know why he doesn’t just forget about her. She obviously has bigger things going on than him, though I can’t figure out what. Who is she always talking to on her phone?
Wed, Oct 29
French: 84% on test
Math team: Meet, but I didn’t place.
I haven’t seen Ada and Tyler together in a while. Did they break up? Did he dump her? Did she dump him? A while ago I wouldn’t have believed it was even possible to say no to someone as gorgeous as Tyler Adams, but I guess if anyone is in a position to turn him down, it’s Ada Culver. She’s probably dating someone even better now.
But who could be better than Tyler? It would have to be someone pretty amazing.
A celebrity. A prince. An alien. Or maybe no one at all. Maybe a girl like Ada Culver is so cool she doesn’t even need boys.
Thurs, Oct 30
I spoke to Ada today. And to Tyler. It was so weird! I almost can’t believe it really happened. Nothing this interesting has happened to me in . . . well, maybe my whole life. How can that be? How can a conversation with a couple of kids at school be the most exciting thing that ever happened to me? But Tyler is Tyler, and Ada’s not just any girl, as I’ve already made pretty clear.
I want to get it all down now while it’s still fresh in my head. I’m afraid if I go to sleep I’ll wake up convinced it was all a dream. Even now I’m not so sure.
It was lunchtime. I was in line to collect my uninspiring rations of institutional-grade chicken fingers, stressing about this huge history test I bombed that morning, when I noticed Tyler moving across the lunchroom. I let my eyes follow him because even though it’s painful to look at Tyler and see how gorgeous he is and think about how hopeless it is to be in love with him, I prefer that kind of pain to thinking about what’s going to happen when Mom sees my end-of-semester grades and realizes her dreams for me are dead.
So instead of dwelling on that, I watched Tyler. And as I watched, I noticed that he was heading toward the door out to the playing fields, and obviously if he went through that, I would lose sight of him. I don’t know what came over me exactly, except that I really didn’t want to go back to thinking about that history test or those chicken fingers. So I started moving. I stepped out of the line and I followed him.
It was drizzling a little outside, so there weren’t many people around. I scanned the low wall and the steps where students usually gather at lunchtime, but I didn’t see Tyler or anyone else. Then I turned and saw Tyler ducking down into a little passageway between the main school building and the auditorium.
I hurried toward where I’d seen him last, still with no fixed idea what I was doing or what I’d do if he spotted me. It’s like I was on autopilot. That’s when I heard the click-clack of heels on a small flight of concrete stairs, along with the soft thud of Tyler’s sneakers. He’d been looking for Ada, of course. And now he’d found her.
From where I was, I could lean over a railing and see them both at the bottom of the stairs. Ada was wearing a short red trench coat that matched her nails. She slipped out of the rain under a little overhang and pulled out a cigarette and a book of matches.
“Dammit,” she said in a low voice as one match after another went out. The wind had picked up. She was facing away from Tyler, and at first I thought she might not know that he was there, but then she said, “I don’t suppose you have a lighter.”
“I don’t smoke,” said Tyler.
“Of course you don’t,” said Ada, still not looking at him. Her straight blond hair fell like a curtain between them.
They stood together in silence a moment while Ada tried and failed to get another match to light. Tyler took a step forward. “I can help,” he said. He leaned his body close to hers, rounding his shoulders to block the wind and blocking my view of her. After a moment, I heard her say thank you, and a plume of smoke rose to where I was standing. He didn’t move.
“I said ‘thank you,’” Ada repeated, more sharply this time.
“Don’t be stuck-up,” said Tyler. “I know what you are.”
“Is that a fact?”
“I’ll tell everyone.”
“Be my guest,” said Ada, not looking at him. Her phone trilled with a text message. “I’ve got to take this,” she said.
“Okay.”
“That was code for, ‘Run along, now.’”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
The phone trilled again. “Fine,” said Ada, and she moved out from behind him, back into the rain. She started to walk up the stairs, but he reached behind him and grabbed her arm, tugging her back down to his level. “Ow,” she said. “What’s the . . . ?” But she didn’t say anything else because he was kissing her.
“Hey,” I cried out. Not stopping to think, I took the steps two at a time. “What are you doing? She said no.”
Tyler stepped away from her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“No, she didn’t,” he said. “Who are you?”
At that point, my sudden attack of bravery wore off, and my throat closed over my voice. It’s funny, because even then Tyler barely glanced at me. He kept staring at Ada until she said in a low, hard voice, “Get lost now. I mean it.” At that he shrugged his shoulders, forced out a laugh, and wandered off toward the playing fields as if that had been his plan all along.
Ada’s phone trilled again. “I’ve got to take this,” she said, and she walked off in the other direction, leaving me alone in the rain.
I don’t know exactly what to make of that whole scene. But I guess Ada doesn’t really like Tyler.
Mon, Nov 3
I spoke to Ada again today. Or actually, she spoke to me.
I’d stayed away from her since our last interaction. I don’t know why, but somehow I was embarrassed. I thought maybe she was mad that I interrupted what was going on between her and Tyler. And I definitely didn’t want to see Tyler. So I did my best to stay out of sight, which is usually easy for me.
But Ada found me after school today. I was walking across the parking lot to the buses when she called my name. I was so surprised I didn’t even answer. Ada Culver knows my name? It was hard to imagine, but she must have done some detective work after our last meeting.
I stopped and stared at her. She was standing by herself, away from the crowd, in a dun-colored coat with a cream fur collar that almost blended with her pale hair. She had her hands stuffed in her pockets, and she was shivering even though it wasn’t that cold. I continued not to move, and eventually she approached and stood before me, maybe two feet away.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” I had thought of her before as beautiful and stunning, but now that she was close-up, I realized there was nothing unusual about her face or her body. She was skinnier and taller than me, but not statuesque. Her skin was pale, and a smattering of freckles on her slightly snub nose made her look almost wholesome. I had been fascinated before by her confidence, her coolness, but
standing in front of me now, she seemed almost fragile. But that was fascinating too.
“The other day,” she said. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She had a lighter this time. “Stuff like that . . .” She waved her cigarette vaguely. “We need to look out for each other.”
We? I didn’t know what she meant. Humankind? Women? Or me and her?
“It’s fine,” I said, and I turned to go.
“Why did you follow me outside?” she said abruptly.
I stopped again. “I wasn’t following you.”
She nodded as if she had half expected this answer. “You like Tyler,” she said. It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. She took a long drag. “A bit of advice,” she said on her exhale. “Stay away from him.”
I stared at her in surprise. Did she actually think I was a threat?
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I said.
“No?”
“Boys don’t . . . do that to me.”
“Lucky you.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You don’t think you’re so lucky,” she said. “Is that it? You wanted it to be you he was mauling.”
“No,” I said quickly, but my hands were sweating. She was right. I hadn’t even admitted it to myself, but there was a part of me that did wish it was me he had pushed up against that wall.
Ada shook her head, her hair catching what remained of the winter light. “You think that’s what passion looks like, but it’s not. Tyler’s just a little boy, trying to be a big man.” She dropped her cigarette on the pavement and crushed it under her heel. “Anyway, I should have said thank you the other day. So thank you.”
“Sure,” I said.
Ada turned away and walked toward a waiting car.
Wed, Nov 5
Screw this journal and screw Mom. I am so done with recording my pathetic attempts to distinguish myself for colleges, and I am really done with her nagging and demanding. I got second place overall at the swim meet today, but when I told Mom, she barely even looked up except to ask how the debate tournament went. Well, Mom, let me tell you: It was awful. I somehow got my notes out of order, and my opponent was really good, and the upshot was I didn’t even place. Not that this is any surprise—I’ve never been good at debate. I hate public speaking. I never would have joined that stupid club except that Mark was awesome at it, of course, so Mom naturally assumed that I should do the exact same thing.
How hard would it be for her to just say congratulations? Or nice job? Or maybe make a comment about how all my hard work in the pool paid off? But no. She has to fixate on the debate thing, which spiraled into a monster list of all my other shortcomings, until she cornered me into a two-hour lecture about what a worthless, terrible, disobedient child I am. Disobedient! That was the real slap in the face. All I ever do is obey. For as long as I can remember, I have done everything she asked, everything she told me to do, everything she wanted, up until and including this dumb journal. And what has it gotten me? Not a whole lot.
And the worst thing is, I don’t even know why. Do I care about her approval? Do I even want it? Or is it just a failure of imagination? Maybe I let her direct every tiny aspect of my life because it’s easier than thinking for myself, than actually deciding what it is I want and what’s important to me.
Everything in my life has always been for her, from which classes I take to which activities I do to the food I eat and the clothes I wear. And I have never questioned any of it, but what’s my reward? To be told that I’ve failed at being a dutiful daughter. The only thing I’ve ever really tried at.
Sometimes I wonder what she would do if she had a really bad daughter. It would blow her mind. I should do that, just to make her appreciate how good I’ve been all this time. Just let everything go, let myself be bad.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’d never have the guts to do that.
Thurs, Nov 6
I did it! I can’t believe it, but I actually did something, well, bad today. I guess I am officially a bad girl now. And weirdly, the world didn’t end. In fact, I seem to have gotten away with it.
I feel like an idiot for spending so much of my life being well behaved and obedient, terrified that if I ever did anything wrong, anything for myself, anything fun, everything would come crashing down around me. I’m not even sure what I thought would happen, but I had to believe there was some terrible punishment awaiting me, or else why would I keep doing all that stuff I didn’t want to do?
And now I feel like that was all a big lie. The world doesn’t work like that at all, and I don’t have to live in constant fear of messing up. I can live a little, breathe a little. Make my own decisions. And it will be okay.
Even if I do wind up getting found out and getting in trouble, I don’t know that I care. I wouldn’t change anything about today, because it was amazing. Even if I get grounded for a million billion years and never see sunlight again, I won’t regret today.
It didn’t start that great, honestly. In my fit of rebellion last night, I decided not to study for my chemistry test, and taking the test without any preparation felt pretty bad. I even felt a little sick to my stomach, just thinking about having to turn it in with basically nothing on it. I never do that. Usually I’m freaking out if I think I might get anything less than a ninety, so the very thought of what a zero might do to my average made me break out in a cold sweat.
I started panicking right there in the middle of the test, and I guess I must have looked pretty bad, because the teacher asked me if I was feeling all right. I took that as my cue. I just said “no” and got up and ran out of the classroom. Part of me was sure he would come after me, but the decision was made for me pretty quickly by my stomach. So I just ran for the nearest bathroom and barfed into one of the toilets.
I felt a lot better after that, but I didn’t know what to do with myself next. I really didn’t want to go back to class and finish the test. But I didn’t want to go to the nurse either. So instead I just hid out in the bathroom until I could go to my next class.
That’s when Ada walked in.
She was wearing a wrap dress that clung to every line and curve of her figure. She gave me a quick look and said, “Hey,” before starting to reapply her lipstick in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t you?” I countered.
She shrugged and returned her attention to the mirror. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
That seemed like the end of the conversation, but I didn’t want it to be. I cast around for something else to say to her, but before I could think of anything, she started up again. She capped the top of her lipstick with a delicate pop, then turned to me and said, “Why is it you never wear makeup at school?”
“Me?” I said, as if there were anyone else she could have been talking to.
“You,” she said. “I always thought . . . you and your friends. None of them wear makeup. I always figured it was because you were above it. You seemed to have more important things to worry about than looking pretty for boys.”
That in itself was a revelation. Ada Culver, of all the people on this earth, had not only looked at me and noticed me before we ever spoke, but it sounded like she might have been a little jealous of me. It’s weird to even write those words down. I can’t really believe that it’s true, but I don’t know. In the moment, I was so shocked I couldn’t even say anything.
“But now,” she continued, “now I know you’re just as boy crazy as anyone in this place. You want boys like Tyler Adams to like you. So why don’t you try?”
“What do you mean, try?”
“You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out. Take some of that brainpower you put into your classes and apply it to your looks. You could have ten Tylers if you wanted.”
I shook my head. “It would take more than a coat of lipstick to make a boy li
ke that notice me.”
Ada looked me up and down, appraising. “You’d be surprised what lipstick can do. Come here.”
I opened my mouth to ask why, or maybe to put her off, but then I realized I didn’t want to, and I didn’t care why. I pushed myself away from the wall and stepped toward her. She smelled like jasmine and tobacco.
“Tilt your head up,” she said, “and relax your mouth.”
One of her hands came up and rested just below my ear, steadying my head. With the other, she carefully smudged the waxy pigment around my lips. “There,” she said. “What do you think?”
She stepped away from me, and for a minute I just stood there rubbing my lips together, acclimating to the strange feel of it. Then I turned toward the mirror. If I had been expecting a miraculous, Hollywood-style transformation, I didn’t get it. I guess I had been, because I couldn’t quite stop a bubble of disappointment from welling up inside me. It was still my face, still my boring, blunt haircut, still my broad swimmer’s shoulders and practical clothes. But now ornamented with a slash of bright red. It was definitely striking.
“Hmm,” said Ada. “Not really your color. But I have more at home. You should come over. I haven’t played makeover in years.”
Ada Culver was inviting me to her house? I couldn’t quite believe my ears.
“When?” I said.
She gave me a funny look. “What’s wrong with now?”
“But it’s the middle of the school day.”
Ada started to laugh but swallowed it back down. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s right.” Not like she had forgotten, but like she had forgotten that might mean something to other people. She dropped her lipstick tube into her purse and turned toward the door.
“Wait,” I said, and she stopped. I thought about my fight with my mom, how just once I wanted to show her what real disobedience was. And how I’d never had the guts to really do it.