“Ah, I bet you’re talking about mean girls. I do know something about that.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Lucy is gaping at her.
“I knew it! You look just like them. Why do girls like you pick on girls like me? I just don’t get it! What’s in it for you?”
“Well, you have to remember that I’m not American so I’m not an expert on American mean girls, but in general they—I mean we—pick on you because we are on the inside and we desperately want to stay there. Which means keeping other people out.” She shrugs. “The inside is small. Teeny. And it’s a war zone in there. You’re probably better off outside.”
“But I don’t even want to be inside! I just want to be left alone with my friends and my teammates!” Lucy cries and I feel awful for her. And I had no idea. I wonder if my parents do.
“You must threaten them, Lucy. You’re smart and pretty and privileged….” Annika trails off as Lucy snorts.
“It’s not that,” she mumbles. “And I’m not pretty like you.”
I look at Lucy and try to see my sister with a stranger’s eyes. She is kind of pretty in a red-cheeked girl-next-door way, with shiny brown hair cut to her chin and a tall, athletic build.
Annika shrugs again. “Sometimes bitches be bitches. Haters be haters.” Lucy and I exchange a grin at her accented slang.
“What?” she smirks. “Don’t mock me because I talk funny!” We all laugh and I’ve never seen this side of Annika.
“You’re funny for a mean girl,” Lucy admits.
“Thanks!” Annika beams, standing up. “Then I’ll leave on that good note. Before I say something mean.”
“There’s something else.” Lucy looks at me. “I don’t want to talk to Mom and Dad about it. That’s why I came here.”
I’m touched by this, actually. “So don’t. You don’t have to talk to me either. It’s your call. But you do have to go back with them, Lu-Lu.” It’s been a long time since I’ve called her that. “You can’t stay here. In fact,” I wonder, looking around my room. “I don’t even know where you can sleep tonight.”
“She can stay with me—my roommate’s not back til tomorrow,” Annika says, looping her bag on her shoulder. She looks at Lucy. “If you want.” Then back at me. “Just walk her over when you’re done talking.” She leaves with a little wave and there’s an awkward silence as I close the door behind her.
“She’s not a mean girl, is she?”
“Not really, no. So!” I roll up my sleeves mentally. “Start at the beginning, Lu.”
I hear how she snuck out of her dorm at school and walked three miles to the Greyhound bus station, paying cash so she wouldn’t be tracked. Then spent ten hours in transit. Then walked around my campus, trying to find me. It’s hair-raising. I don’t know why anyone ever has kids.
I struggle to keep my tone mild when I want to freak out. “All this because some overinflated Barbie dolls were mean to you?” I still don’t get it.
“They called me a dyke,” she whispers, eyes on the floor.
“What? Just because you’re a jock?” I’m indignant on her behalf.
“No,” she says slowly. “Because I’m gay.”
And I totally didn’t see that coming.
“Okay. Either way, they’re still assholes.”
She peers up at me. “You’re not shocked?”
“Nope. I’ve got gay friends.” Not girls, actually, but whatever. I can do this. I can be the person my sister comes out to. “Is this about the bullying? Or are you worried about telling Mom and Dad?”
“They’ll find out if I report the bullying….”
“They’ll find out no matter what, Lu. It’s just a question of when.” I say this gently but we both know it’s true. There’s no keeping anything from our parents.
She sighs and droops again.
“You’re not ready to have that conversation?”
She chews her lip. “Can’t you….?”
I snort. “Come out for you? No can do, kiddo.”
“I don’t know what they’ll say. You know how they are.” She sounds whiny now and I marvel at how mature and immature she is at the same time.
Yep. I do. Our parents are powerhouses. Everything they do is full steam. I mull on this. “Well, Mom endorses gay marriage. And Dad’s aunt was gay and it wasn’t a thing.”
“She was? Huh. But that’s not the same as having a gay daughter. Me being gay. You know it’s always easier to predict what they’ll say in public than in private.”
I nod. That’s a pretty good way to put it. It’s not that they’re bad parents or bad people. It’s just that their public faces are hard to crack. Which is exactly what Annika says about me, I realize. My phone beeps and I pick it up to read the text.
“Well, Lu-Lu. They’ll be here at 8 a.m. You have twelve hours to figure out what to say to them.”
She looks green. “Will you come with me to talk to them?’
I put an arm around her shoulder. “Damn straight! No pun intended.”
Lucy rolls her eyes when I snicker, then we head over to Annika’s. It’s dark now and we’re quiet.
Out of the blue Lucy says, “She’s really pretty. Are you dating her?”
It’s complicated, I want to say. Instead I say, “Nah. But I know she’s straight so don’t get your hopes up.”
“Maaaaatt!” My sister goes beet red and I smack the back of her head, laughing.
“Get used to it, Lu! I’m still your big brother. Think of all the fun we can have now, checking out girls.”
She comes to an abrupt stop. “Oh my God, Matt! You’re such a pig! I should never have told you first.”
I just laugh harder.
12
Annika
In the morning I walk Lucy over to the coffeehouse to join her family. We talked a little last night but she seemed pensive—and exhausted—so I left her alone. I heard her on her phone before I was fully awake, arguing with a parent.
“You okay?” I ask as we walk. She still seems subdued.
“I guess.” She brushes hair out of her face and hunches her shoulders, trudging like a condemned prisoner.
“Are you in deep doo-doo?”
She laughs as if despite herself. “Don’t even try, Annika. Just stay away from slang, okay? You sound ridiculous.”
I smile. Success!
“They won’t yell. Or ground me. Or anything obvious like that.”
“But?” I prompt.
She sighs again. “But…something. They’ll be disappointed. Or upset. Hard to say what. They’re not really used to trouble from us.”
“Us?”
“Me and Matt.”
“Really?”
“We’re good kids,” she says sadly, as if it’s a phrase she’s heard a lot.
“Huh. Are they good parents?”
Lucy kicks an empty beer can back and forth between her feet as she walks. “Yeah. They are. I mean, they’re super busy and they’re super intense, but we know they care about us. They try.”
I nod. “Then they’ll try now too. All will be well.”
Her steps slow down. “What would your parents say if your younger sister ran away from school?”
I laughed. “Lena? I can’t even imagine it. I’m not sure she’s ever been to a grocery story by herself. My sisters and I grew up a lot more sheltered than American girls. It’s different back home.”
She darts a quick glance at my face and I’m reminded of Matt. The sharp curiosity that sometimes shows through all his polish.
“Different better or different worse?”
“Different different.”
She mulls that over, coming to a complete stop. “What if your sister told them she was gay?”
Ah. I smile and nudge her gently forward again. “They love her and it’s who she is. If she came out to them I bet they’d be proud of her.”
We reach the coffeehouse and we both pause at the entrance. “Deep breath, Lucy!”
I�
��m relieved to see that Matt is already there, sitting with his parents in some intense conversation. He’s animated and focused in a way I rarely see. It’s a good look for him. His mother leans forward, equally engaged and talking with her hands, as if numbering points and citing evidence. They look alike, both dark-haired and classically attractive though his mother is petite. His father, tall and gray-haired, frowns slightly as he listens. He sees us first and his gaze is like a truth-seeking missile. Not cold, but definitely intense. Matt and his mother stop mid-conversation and stare too. I understand Lucy’s misgivings.
“Thanks, Annika,” Matt says, standing as we approach. He leans into me. “And congrats on checking off Step #4, by the way.”
When I look confused he continues. “Helping someone out.”
I flush, then back away while Lucy stands still for hugs from her parents. I take advantage of their distraction to sneak away quietly, hoping that Matt will make my excuses to Lucy.
I get the text from Matt an hour later: My parents want to meet you. Student center 12:25
Is that a question?
Nope. Sorry. That’s how they are. You’ll probably get 20 minutes of their valuable time.
!!!?? @#&*%!
LOL!
No, really. Do I have to go?
Yes.
Will you be there?
Yes.
OK (Sigh!)
I arrive at the student center and a nervous college official ushers me into a private conference room where Matt and his family sit around a table filled with catered food. I feel uncomfortably aware of my informal attire. I didn’t know when I pulled on these skinny jeans and this turtleneck sweater that I’d be meeting Matt’s parents. A Senator. And a federal judge. I just knew that I needed to cover the marks Matt left on my neck.
“Annika. Thank you for joining us!” Matt’s mother stands and extends an elegant hand. She subjects me to a steady, but not unfriendly, examination. Mr. Troubridge follows suit. It’s as if they have a new piece of evidence before them and are waiting to see where it fits in.
“Senator. Mr. Troubridge,” I say politely, shaking hands. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Have a seat,” Matt’s father says. “Please help yourself to some food. The Provost was kind enough to arrange this room and order food for us.”
I glance at Matt, who grins at me, and Lucy, who rolls her eyes. I can imagine how kind the Provost was. I wonder if Matt was excused from all his classes today.
“Thank you.” I incline my head and clasp my hands together, waiting, while the others serve themselves. And then it starts.
Where are you from? What are you studying? What do your parents do? It’s all casual and effortless, but there’s an agenda too and I’m not sure what it is.
“So what can we do for you?” Matt’s mother pauses with a fork in the air, as if struck by a generous impulse. I pause too and look around the table. Matt looks perfectly at ease, as usual, and Lucy is avoiding all eye contact.
“Well, you can pass me the butter, if you don’t mind?” I meet her eyes and they are still neutral, aloof, though I sense her brain is busy. Matt barely represses a smirk.
“Of course,” she says evenly as she hands it to me. “We so appreciate your taking Lucy in last night. And helping Matt talk to her.” She has clearly decided on another tack.
“Of course,” I echo.
“What is in it for you?” she asks, tilting her head at me. There is no anger or accusation in her tone. She is just analyzing the situation. And I’m a little awed.
“I must be misunderstanding you. My English is not always so good. Ask Matt. He knows I make the mistakes all the time.”
I glance at Matt, who keeps his cool, but Lucy giggles. Their mother shoots her a warning glance and then turns back to me. Her husband is just watching us intently, his fingers steepled together.
“You are an ambitious young woman,” the Senator comments, returning her gaze to me. “Where is your summer internship?”
“With an NGO in D.C. helping refugees find political asylum. I hope to work at the United Nations after I graduate.”
“Very smart. You won’t need American citizenship for that job.”
I smile. “I know. Matt and I think it’s way to soon to think about marriage, right honey?” I lean over to squeeze his hand and he almost chokes on his food. His mother just narrows her eyes on me.
“I keep telling him, though, that I think he’d get more out of an EU citizenship than I would out of American citizenship. You know, seeing that we have lower healthcare costs, subsidized university education, and paid childcare leaves….”
Matt scoots his chair closer to drop an arm over my shoulder. “Now who’s getting ahead of ourselves, sweetheart?”
I blink at him. Lucy is gaping at us and I think Matt’s father is trying to hide a smile behind a napkin. His mother just continues to watch us impassively.
“Besides,” Matt muses, stroking my arm. “Your tax rates are criminal. No wonder businesses are fleeing the continent. And there goes job growth. Pretty soon the debtor nations will drag the whole EU down. We’ll see a mass exodus after Britain leaves.”
“Now wait a minute!” I straighten and glare at him. “Do you believe that or are you just bullshitting again? What do you know about the European economy, anyway? Estonia has one of the highest per capita incomes in Europe and hardly any debt.”
“I told you. I like the policy side of Poli Sci.” He turns to his parents for a moment. “Mom, Dad, I’m switching into the Public Policy concentration.” Then he turns back to me and I can see his parents exchange a candid look of confusion.
“And who cares about Estonia?” He grins and I know he’s baiting me but I still fall for it. My heart starts pumping. But before I can retort the Senator interrupts us.
“Yes. Well, maybe you could stay at our house in D.C. this summer.”
That gets my attention—and Matt’s.
“What?” we both say at the same time.
“We have five bedrooms, a full staff, and we hardly use the house between Senate sessions,” his mother says, rising. Her husband stands too. He has hardly said a word but somehow they seem to act together and present a united front. I can see why Matt and Lucy get overwhelmed.
“Time to go! I’m due back in D.C. for meetings this afternoon,” she says briskly. “Lucy, come dear.” She gives Lucy’s shoulders a brief squeeze before pausing near Matt.
“You’re taking her back to school?” Matt asks, anxiously studying his sister’s face.
“Not yet. She’s spending a few days with us while we sort out the school situation. We need to know exactly how the school exposed Lucy to so much unpleasantness.” Mr. Troubridge speaks tersely and I almost feel sorry for those administrators.
Matt nods and stands to hug his sister, saying something in a low voice. Lucy turns to me next and I hug her too.
“Kick some booty!” I whisper and she laughs.
Senator Troubridge rests a hand lightly on my shoulder, which feels like a practiced gesture, but her voice seems sincere. “I’m sure we can count on you to keep Lucy’s confidences safe.”
It’s not a question, but I nod. Her eyes flicker over to her son.
“Take care,” she says quietly. It sounds neutral, the kind of offhand comment one makes as one leaves, but I doubt this woman is ever offhand or off duty. It gives me pause. Is it a warning or a plea?
When his family has gone Matt and I turn to each other awkwardly, suddenly very alone. I’m unsure what to say.
“They seem nice.” Ugh.
He raises an eyebrow and studies me. “They like you. You did great. My last girlfriend literally puked after ten minutes with my mother.”
“Your last girlfriend?” I repeat slowly, pausing in the doorway.
“Oh. Yeah. Right. You know, senior year. Prom. Never mind!”
He moves ahead of me to push open the glass doors of the student center. A blast of cold a
ir hits me in the face. After the mild weekend we’re getting the last gasp of winter.
“I’m not your girlfriend!” I hiss, looking up at him as he holds the door for me. His eyes are very dark, very intense, and warming me up despite the cold.
“I want that do-over.” His voice is low. We’re outside now but standing too close and I shiver.
“What does that even mean?” My voice sounds too shaky to me and Matt brushes away some hair that has blown into my face.
“A date, Anni.”
“You mean…like going out somewhere? Together?” My brain is stuttering.
“Exactly like that.”
“But why? We don’t even like each other.” We’re still frozen in place on the steps of the student center.
“We do so like each other,” he says solemnly.
“We do?”
“We do,” he insists. His eyes drop to my mouth.
“Oh.” I blink at him, dazed.
“Is that a yes?” He could kiss me right now. I could kiss him. Just by leaning forward. I inhale and try to focus.
“We’ll stir up gossip….”
He shrugs. “Someone once told me I shouldn’t care so much about public opinion, but try to be genuine and sincere. Consider it practice.”
My thoughts are spinning.
“I’ll think about it.” There! That seems safe.
Matt sighs and the spell breaks as he starts to back away from me. Turning, he calls out over his shoulder. “Don’t think about it too much, okay?” Then, with a grin, he’s gone.
Right.
13
Matt
It takes me almost two weeks to wear her down. I had guesstimated 5-10 days but Annika’s tough and I should know by now that she’ll exceed expectations. She stayed strong through a social media campaign that included Facebook messages, texts, and even a few Instagram photos (nothing “inappropriate”!). I sent her links to restaurants I could take her to, calendar invites for Friday night, and updated weather reports every day. I left voicemails on her cell, put notes in her textbooks, snuck messages under her door. I did everything but commission a skywriter—and that’s only because we’re still supposed to be on the down low. Yeah, I was a nuisance. But it worked.
The Do-Over (Extra Credit Book 2) Page 8