I am used to the cherry-flavored ChapStick, though. Not only used to it, I’m thoroughly tired of it. Luckily, I’ve learned to stand back a few feet and then I don’t even smell the cherry-ness. Much.
Instead of saying hello he goes, “What are you wearing?”
“You like?” I ask, spinning around. “It’s all new. Happy Fourth of July!”
“You, too,” he says.
“That’s all you have to say?” I ask.
And then there’s this huge awkward pause.
“Tell me I look awesome,” I say.
“You look awesome,” Kevin repeats, his voice semirobotic, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it. Oh well. At least he said it.
And who is he to judge? Kevin is in the same shorts he’s been wearing all week, plus a T-shirt advertising some soap company. No shoes. Would’ve been nice for him to get dressed up for me, but I don’t say so. Not directly.
“Am I here too early?” I ask.
“Huh?” asks Kevin.
“I feel like I showed up before you got a chance to get dressed.”
Kevin looks down at himself, confused. “Um, I am dressed, Melo. This is my favorite shirt.”
“Oh,” I say. “Right. Of course.”
I follow him into the den, where the giant-screen TV is on. I’m figuring he’s going to turn it off so we can talk, but instead he picks up his game console and continues to play.
I stand there, unsure what to do. Dating Kevin is not what I thought it would be. It’s not that he’s a bad guy, exactly. He’s simply not the amazing guy I thought he was. And he doesn’t seem to be too into me, either.
“Have a seat,” he says, patting the couch cushion beside him, not taking his eyes away from the TV.
I think maybe we’re going to play together, so I sit down next to him, except he seems to be involved in a game already.
“Um, where are my controls?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he says.
“Don’t I get to play, too?”
He laughs. “Do you even know what this game is?”
It’s a valid question and I answer honestly. “I don’t, but I’m a fast learner.”
“Sorry. I’m in the middle of playing with Buddy,” he says.
Buddy is Kevin’s best bud from North Carolina. He’s talked about him before. And I’m all for keeping in contact with friends from home, but come on. I’m here and I’m looking fabulous in my brand-new outfit. Plus, Kevin is the one who invited me over. He can’t just ignore me on a major American holiday. I cross my arms over my chest and huff.
His eyes get squinty for a moment, like he’s registered my unhappiness, but he’s too focused on his game to do anything about it.
I decide to huff again because maybe I wasn’t loud enough the first time.
Again, he has the same nonreaction.
Maybe I need to be more direct. “Want to go to the park to see the fireworks? If we leave now I’ll bet we can get a great spot. It’s not about being near the front, actually. We should sit in the center and then we simply lie back and look up and we’ll see everything explode above us.”
Kevin doesn’t reply. He’s too busy pressing buttons with his fingers and moving around, flying some purple iridescent jet online, but acting like it’s a real life-or-death situation.
“Do you think they’ll play Katy Perry’s ‘Firework,’ or is that too obvious?”
Kevin doesn’t laugh at my excellent joke and this is too much. I stand up and turn off the TV.
He jumps up and yelps like a puppy in pain. “What are you doing? I was winning!”
“I’m not going to sit here and watch you play video games all night!” I protest.
“Who said anything about all night? I just needed to finish the game.”
“Oh.” That’s different and now I feel bad, but this isn’t my fault. “Why didn’t you say so?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I thought you knew,” Kevin says. He takes off his hat for a moment to run one hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m done. What do you want to do?”
“Let’s go out to dinner,” I say. “We can walk to Mario’s. I hear their ravioli is amazing.”
“I can’t go out to eat because I can’t find my shoes,” says Kevin.
“Are you kidding?” I ask.
“Let’s order a pizza,” he says.
“Okay,” I say. “I love pizza.”
“Me, too. Except I don’t have any money on me.”
I have my credit card, but Melody’s mom always studies the statement and if she finds out I ate pizza again she’s going to freak. I just got another lecture on healthy eating this morning because she found an empty bag of potato chips in my beach bag. We are out of luck. “I don’t have any cash, either,” I tell him.
“That’s okay. Let’s raid the fridge,” says Kevin, standing up and leading me to the kitchen. He finds tortilla chips, salsa, guacamole, and a package of hot dogs.
“Yuck!” I say.
“Hot dogs are delicious,” he says, grabbing one out of the package and taking a gigantic bite.
“Did you just eat that raw?” I ask.
He nods and shoves the rest of it into his mouth.
I’ve been a vegetarian since I was nine, and I know that’s my choice and I try to respect other people’s decisions, but thinking about meat grosses me out. And seeing Kevin eat a raw hot dog? “That’s disgusting,” I can’t help but say, crinkling my nose.
“You’re crazy, Melody!” He talks with his mouth full, so I smell half raw hot dog and half cherry-flavored ChapStick, which equals one hundred percent disgusting.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say.
“Wait, are you mad?” he asks. “Don’t be mad, Melo.”
“I’m not mad,” I say, backing away. “I’m just, um, I’ve gotta go.”
“Can we do something on Sunday? It’s supposed to be an awesome day for waves.”
“I don’t want to go to the beach and sit on the sand for six hours and watch you surf,” I say.
“Oh,” says Kevin. “Okay, that’s cool. We can do something else. How about we go to the mall?”
“Okay,” I agree, even though I just went to the mall yesterday. Melody’s mom and I bought everything worth buying at the mall.
But hanging out there with Kevin is a whole different thing. It’s got to be, because Kevin is the guy of my dreams … right?
MELODY
Spaghetti Mess
Fourth of July was amazing! Anya, Jeff, Reese, and Ryan and I played Wiffle ball at McClaren Park and then had a picnic while the sun set. Once it was dark we marveled as the fireworks lit up the night sky. I’m just sorry Katie missed it. I would’ve invited her but we haven’t spoken since we ran into each other at the beach. It’s weird. Anyway, I’m sure she and Kevin had better plans.
Now it’s Saturday night and Katie’s parents have a date night. That means Katie is stuck home babysitting. Stuck home is what she always said about it, except as usual, she was being way negative. Not everyone needs to go out every night of her life. There are plenty of things to do at home. Especially when you live in a cozy home with two cute stepbrothers. We can bake cookies. We can tie-dye T-shirts. We can make play dough because I downloaded a cool recipe on Katie’s laptop. Or we can do it all. We’ve got tons of time and I’m excited.
Katie’s mom and Jeff are going to take a cooking class: vegetarian Indian food. It sounds fun. I love Indian food and I’m a vegetarian now, so what could be better?
Katie’s mom lets me help her pick out her outfit and jewelry, which is totally fun. My mom never lets me help her with stuff like that. She emerges from her room perfectly coiffed every single night, as if she has invisible elf stylists hidden in a secret compartment in her jewelry box.
Who knows? Maybe she does. It’s not my problem tonight.
I’m sitting on the edge of Anya’s bed as she pulls clothes out of her closet.
“Does this shirt make me look like
I’m old but trying to look young?” she asks me, holding up a silky blue tank.
“No, and that top is so cute,” I tell her. “Can I borrow it sometime?”
She hands it to me. “Take it. It’s yours now because I think I made my point!”
Three outfit changes later she settles on a red, yellow, and blue caftan with white capri pants and cute high-heel sandals, light brown like a worn-in saddle on a horse. She also puts on the new charm necklace Jeff bought her. There are three charms on it: one for Katie, one for Reese, and one for Ryan. I love how she wears her whole family around her neck—like she’s always thinking about us, which she so totally is.
When Anya is ready she spins around and asks me what I think.
“You look amazing,” I tell her, and I’m being honest. Anya looks supercute and vibrant. She’s not obsessed with being rail thin and hard bodied like my mom. She’s a little chubby and she lets herself eat cake. She doesn’t always wear makeup and when she does, it’s only lipstick. Even tonight on date night. She’s worried about being old but she looks adorable. I can totally see Anya and Jeff together in middle school. They are goofy and in love. It’s no wonder Katie feels so much pressure to meet a boy. If my parents were this happy, I’d want to meet a boy, too. And honestly, I kind of do want to meet a boy. A boy other than my boyfriend …
As soon as we head downstairs Reese and Ryan run up to me. “What are we going to do?” Reese asks.
“Well, that depends,” I say, explaining about the play-dough recipe and the tie-dye.
Ryan looks at Reese and makes a face.
“Or we can start a new book. Have you guys ever read Matilda?”
“We’ve seen the movie,” Reese says with a yawn.
I look to Anya, hoping she’ll help me, but she’s applying lipstick in the front hall mirror, pretending like she doesn’t hear.
“Can’t we watch a movie?” Ryan asks.
“Please, please, please,” says Reese.
There’s no reason Anya should say no, as far as I’m concerned. It’s summertime. The kids and I played outside all day and I’m tired. Last night we had an awesome picnic at the beach. We hike every Saturday and have been running around nonstop. What’s wrong with vegging in front of the TV every once in a while?
Except as I’m pleading my case, Jeff comes into the room and interrupts, saying, “No TV. Make sure you give the boys a bath. And please wash their hair tonight. There’s plenty of food in the fridge for dinner. They can have pasta or hot dogs or both, but don’t forget about the vegetables. There’s cut-up cucumbers and carrots on the top shelf. Bedtime is at seven thirty sharp.”
“I only like carrots, not cucumbers,” says Reese.
“And seven thirty is way too early!” Ryan yells.
“That’s perfectly acceptable,” says Jeff. “Right, Katie?”
“Listen to your sister, boys,” Anya says. “She’s in charge.”
And then they are gone.
The three of us watch them walk to the curb and get into Jeff’s old Subaru. Then as soon as they pull away the boys hoot with delight and start tearing apart the living room couch. It’s instant chaos.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask.
“Making a fort!” Reese says, like it’s obvious. Every couch cushion is now on the floor. Ryan is pushing the coffee table out of the way.
“Is this allowed?” I ask.
“Duh. Of course it is,” says Reese.
“Then why did you only start building the fort after your parents walked out the door?” I ask.
The boys look at me guiltily.
I answer my own question. “Because you aren’t allowed.”
“It’s fine as long as you clean it up when we go to bed, because last time we got in trouble,” Ryan tells me.
“Wait, it’s not my job to clean this up,” I say.
The boys giggle mischievously as they bean each other with pillows.
“This isn’t fort building. This is fighting, which is definitely not allowed,” I say.
The boys ignore me and I give up. I’m tired from this morning’s hike. Plus, Ryan and Reese woke me up at five thirty yesterday because they wanted help building a garage for their Matchbox cars. The morning before that, they wanted to play superheroes at six.
I head into the den. The piano looms large in the corner like a threat. Anya said my weeks of trading piano practice for babysitting were over. I told Anya the piano is way out of tune and playing it in this condition would be bad for me. She actually bought the excuse, and now I don’t have to practice until they get it fixed, but the repair guy is coming next week. I don’t know what I’m going to do after that.
Suddenly I hear a crash and a yell. I run into the living room to find Ryan in tears. Worse—both boys are hitting each other but not with pillows. They are using their fists.
“Break it up!” I yell, pulling them apart. “What is going on?”
Ryan says, “Reese pushed me into a wall.”
“It was an accident,” says Reese. “He hit me for no reason.”
“Cut it out,” I yell. “And be more careful.”
They pull away from me and continue with the pillow fight.
I wonder how much Katie gets paid to babysit. Since it’s a weekend, and not an official piano-practice trade, I assume I’ll make some cash. I just hope it’s enough for a new bathing suit. I’m not crazy about any of Katie’s. They are all superskimpy bikinis, and whenever I swim in a bikini, my stomach gets cold and I stress about a giant wave crashing down and washing away my suit. Simple tanks make so much more sense.
I wander back upstairs to my room and try to read. I went to the library and got some new books yesterday. But it’s way too loud. I can’t focus.
I wonder how long an Indian cooking class lasts. Jeff and Anya have to drive there, which is twenty minutes, minimum. And the class has to last for at least an hour—maybe two. After they cook they get to eat what they’ve made, which means another forty-five minutes, maybe? I’m sure they’ll be home to relieve me at any moment. I glance at my clock. It reads 6:05.
That means Anya and Jeff have only been gone for ten minutes.
“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Reese asks, coming into my room without knocking.
“Great question,” I say. I head downstairs to the kitchen and check the fridge. I see the carrots and cucumbers Jeff mentioned and also the macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. Yum. Hot dogs. They look delicious, so now I have this moral dilemma. Katie is a vegetarian and I am occupying Katie’s body. Does that mean I have to be a vegetarian, too? Is it disrespectful to eat a hot dog? Or can I do whatever I want now that I’m her?
She’s probably hanging out with my boyfriend at the moment, for instance. They may have even kissed. And I don’t mind. I am happy to have time off from Kevin. I should probably break up with him, but we are not broken up yet. So is my boyfriend cheating on me with my best friend? Or is my best friend simply being faithful to our switch? Can both things be true?
And back to the original, most pressing question, can I eat the hot dog?
My stomach is growling, which means my body is telling me to eat it. The real Katie will never know. It’s totally okay.
I take a small bite.
“What are you doing?” asks Ryan.
“Nothing!” I say, hiding the rest of the hot dog behind my back. “Nothing at all.”
“You ate a hot dog,” says Ryan.
“It’s a veggie dog,” I lie. “And I only took a bite.”
Ryan looks at me funny. He’s on to me—I can tell. “It’s a regular hot dog and you’re not Katie,” he says.
I giggle out of nervousness. “Why do you keep saying that, little dude?” I ask, ruffling his hair.
“You don’t call me little dude,” he says. “Melody does.”
This is true. I can’t believe how perceptive he is. Or maybe I can. Kids are geniuses. It’s only when they grow up that their senses get dulled. Like the adults in
the world, they start caring about things that don’t matter. Then things they used to know they suddenly don’t anymore. The doubt creeps in.
“You’re not Katie and Melody is not Melody. Everything is mixed up!” he says.
I am amazed and scared.
“Look, squirt,” I say, in my best imitation of Katie. “Leave me alone, okay? I’ve got better things to do than argue with you about stuff that doesn’t make any sense.”
Ryan frowns at me like he’s seeing through me, and then Reese bursts into the room. “I’m starving!” he groans. “You’re supposed to be making us dinner.”
“Okay, but you need to chill out,” I reply. And I’m not even channeling Katie anymore. I’m genuinely annoyed. “What do you guys want?”
“Spaghetti!” Ryan yells.
“Why not mac and cheese?” I ask, showing them the glass container. “It’s already made, so I’ll heat it up.”
“No, we had that last night,” says Reese. “I want spaghetti, too.”
“Okay, if you guys insist,” I say. Spaghetti sounds easy, which puts me in a better mood. I don’t really cook, but I’m sure I can handle this. I find the package in the cupboard and some sauce in the fridge. Perfect.
I read the instructions on the pasta. Apparently I must bring water to a rolling boil. But what does that even mean?
The boys are staring at me, which is adding pressure. It makes me feel like I’m gonna mess something up.
“Guys, go play, okay? I’ll let you know when everything is ready.”
They take off.
I gulp and open five cabinets before I find the right pot. I fill it with water and put it on the stove. Then I turn it on. The flame jumps up from the burner like magic. Lovely.
I turn it to high because I can’t let the twins starve on my watch.
Except when I stare at the water, nothing seems to be happening. I find the lid and put it on. This should make it heat up faster, right? Yes. That makes total sense. This cooking-dinner thing is a snap. I should do it more often.
It sounds as if the boys have resumed their fort building/pillow fighting and they’re having so much fun I decide to join them. I grab a throw pillow and knock Ryan down and he falls into Reese and the boys topple like silly, giggly dominoes.
If I Were You Page 11