Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel

by Sara Farizan

  “I didn’t invite the whole cast. Certainly not the crew. God, can you imagine what conversations they’d start? How to drink human blood properly?”

  “Those girls are actually pretty cool.” I chuckle halfheartedly.

  “You don’t have feelings for them, do you?”

  “What? No. They aren’t even—”

  She stops me with a kiss on my mouth. She’s very good at this. I hear a door open and I back away. Lisa walks out of the farthest stall on the left. I cover my mouth with both my hands. I didn’t know anyone was in here! I can’t stand that I’m being caught out left and right.

  Saskia stares at Lisa curiously. “Did you like the show?” she asks. It’s not clear if she’s referring to the play or to what just happened in the bathroom. Lisa washes her hands calmly, like she didn’t hear a thing, then turns to us.

  “I think you both gave a terrific performance.” Just as Lisa’s about to leave, Saskia invites her to the party. But Lisa goes out the door without responding.

  Twenty

  Driving the four of us home, Dad has the BBC world news on at a low volume so he can keep complimenting me on the play. It’s kind of nice seeing him and Mom so happy about something I’ve done, though Dad does mention that he wishes I were as good at science as I am at acting. Baby steps, I guess. Nahal has to ruin it by bringing up Tess Carr. She’s always such a killjoy.

  “Yeah, she got really sick all of a sudden. I feel bad for her,” I say sincerely, hoping we can drop it and just talk about what a great job I did.

  “She was pretty good at the beginning,” says Nahal.

  Yes, she was, Nahal. Why don’t you fling yourself out of the car and hitchhike the rest of the way home?

  “Her poor father looked so upset when he took her home,” Mom says. “It’s horrible when your babies get sick, even when they aren’t babies anymore.”

  We drive in silence for a few minutes. No one brings up the kiss and I am grateful. Dad puts in a CD and everyone perks up again.

  “Not this old Persian stuff!” Nahal gripes as Dad yells, rather than sings, the lyrics in Farsi. Mom covers her ears with her hands and Dad sings even more loudly.

  When we get home, I mention Saskia’s party. After that kiss, I really want to go. I can tell Mom’s torn.

  “Are her parents going to be there?” I don’t want to lie to her. She must sense something in my hesitation. “I don’t want you to go, Leila. There will be other parties. I promise, when your winter break starts you can have some friends over for pizza, okay?”

  That sounds so lame. But whatever. This is only the party of a lifetime, celebrating my triumphant stage debut. No big deal. I can skip that.

  Half an hour later I am pleading with Nahal to drive me to Saskia’s party. I tell her I’ll give her fifty bucks, but she just laughs in my face.

  “Mom won’t let you go, huh?”

  I nod, feeling embarrassed that it has come to me pleading with my brownnoser sister.

  “I used to make up stuff about going out, too. I’ll tell Mom you’re sleeping over with me. Go get ready, but leave your cute clothes in a bag and change in the car.”

  I’m impressed that Nahal is not only agreeing to this, but she’s done this sort of thing before. So much for being the perfect daughter.

  Nahal’s excuse works like a charm. Of course. Mom thinks it’s wonderful that we’re bonding, and says she always knew this day would come. She gives me a big hug. I feel so guilty that I almost back out. Almost.

  “I love you, Leila joon. See you tomorrow.” Mom’s not naive. I just don’t think she’d ever expect Nahal to lie to her, or to lie for me for that matter.

  “I love you, too, Mom,” I say before I rush off to Nahal’s car.

  As soon as we get out of the driveway, Nahal puts on the heavy metal station. She stops the car and sticks a ring in her eyebrow. I don’t know this person. She notices that I am gawking at her.

  “What?”

  I point at my eyebrow and point at her. She drives again, fast, and not at all like she did when she lived at home. She shrugs.

  “College. Let’s keep it between us, okay?”

  Nahal drops me off in front of the Taj. I’ve changed into my party clothes and feel pretty hot, if I do say so myself. “She’s a rich bitch, huh?” Nahal asks. I didn’t think Nahal even knew any swears. Something else she has hidden from our parents. I don’t mention it, but all these secrets kind of make her more real.

  “Do you have a ride home from the party?” sister dear asks.

  “I’m going to sleep over.”

  Nahal nods.

  “Nahal, how come you’re being so cool about this?”

  She shrugs. “I know Mom and Dad have high expectations. When I’m around them I try to meet them, but a person has to have a few secrets for herself.” She pauses. “You know, Leila, I’ve actually always been jealous of you.”

  I look at her, shocked.

  She laughs and continues. “I’m going to be a doctor just like Dad wants, and you totally suck at science and he doesn’t even care. You could join Clown College if you wanted and he’d still treat you like a princess.” I’m surprised that Nahal feels that way. I always assumed she was naturally perfect. I didn’t realize she had to work really hard at it—or that she felt the same kind of pressure I do to please Mom and Dad.

  “I think Dad would still love you, even if you didn’t want to be a doctor,” I tell her.

  Nahal shrugs at the suggestion and grins. “I’ve come around to it. I’ll probably go into plastic surgery. Lots of money in it.”

  I smile and give her a hug. She seems surprised at first and then hugs me back. When we let go, it feels like we’re sisters again, just like when we were kids. I climb out of the car and look up at the hotel, excited to see Saskia.

  When I get to Saskia’s room, it’s packed with kids I’ve never seen before, most of them not from our school. I recognize some college freshmen from the BU party, and Ashley and Robert are just leaving.

  “Hey, drama queen,” Ashley says as politely as possible. Robert is drinking from a Solo cup, and from the way he smells, I’d rather not think of what he’s mixed together.

  “You guys are leaving?” I ask, kind of surprised since Robert seems to have a place to drink.

  “Yeah, I’m going to drive Sloppy McFeelyhands home and then break up with him.” Robert leans his head against a wall and seems to be singing to himself. “I should always date older men.” She was totally seeing Mr. Harris! “This party’s so weird. I don’t know anyone here, and there are some old-looking guys and I don’t even want to know what they’re doing in that room.” I’m kind of freaked out but try not to show it.

  “Have you seen Saskia anywhere?” I ask, looking around the room.

  She looks at me like she has some delicious gossip to share. She whispers, “You’re over Greg, right?”

  I was never under Greg. “Of course I am. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Robert is singing louder now and it almost sounds like screaming. Ashley walks over and has him sit on the floor so he doesn’t hurt himself. She continues to whisper. “Greg, well, he, um . . .”

  What is all this about Greg? What, he’s crushing on someone else now? He played spin the bottle or something? I could care less.

  “He and Saskia hooked up. Or they are hooking up.”

  I feel like I have been punched in the vagina. I don’t hear the rest of what Ashley has to say. She must be loving this moment. I glance over at Saskia’s bedroom door and see a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob.

  “Yeah, I’m totally over Greg,” I tell her, keeping a brave face. “You better go, Robert’s waiting.”

  “Sucks to be you, bitch,” she says as she pats me on the shoulder.

  When she leaves I go to the bathroom and lock the door. I sit on the cold floor tiles and cry my little lesbian heart out. Nothing really makes sense. I didn’t know Saskia even liked Greg! How could I have
been so stupid! Of course she didn’t like me. Why would she? She’s so beautiful and I’m just cute.

  The tears keep coming. Eventually there’s a knock on the door.

  “Hey, are you puking? ’Cause I’ve got to take a piss,” says a male voice.

  “Go away!” I yell but he keeps knocking. Too bad. He can pee on the carpet for all I care. I’m staying in here the rest of the night. I can hear him and others complain about the bathroom being locked, but after fifteen minutes the place seems to have quieted down a little. I wash my face in the sink and take deep breaths. I have to leave here sometime. I’m just not ready to. The next knock is Saskia.

  “Whoever is in there, you are hogging the restroom!” she yells. I don’t know if I want to see her right now. But maybe Ashley was just being cruel.

  “It’s Leila.” She doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  “Leila, can you let me in? Please?”

  Her voice is so much sweeter now. How can I even look at her? I’m so embarrassed and angry.

  “Oh, come on, Leila, don’t be mean. Let me in.”

  “Don’t be mean? Are you kidding me?” I yell back.

  “You open this door or I’ll get one of these brutes to ram it down for me! Be a good girl, come on.” I unlock the door and she enters, her hair mussed from something I’d rather not think about. She eyes me up and down. “I love your outfit! That color looks great on you!” I could throw up. “Are you angry at me?” she asks. Is she serious? “You told me you don’t like Greg anymore! He’s fair game, isn’t he?”

  “What about us?” I ask her with what I’m sure are disgusting wounded-bunny eyes.

  “Us? What do you mean? We’re friends.”

  “But, but we kissed! The other night . . .”

  “Girls do that all the time. Haven’t you ever been to a sleepover before? Played truth or dare?” She’s serious.

  “But we weren’t playing. I wasn’t—” I stop talking and feel myself crying again.

  “Come on, Leila. We had fun, but I’m not like that. I mean, really, what would we do together? I can’t even look at my own vagina in the mirror, you know? It’s just gross. No offense.”

  I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, with my face in my hands. I can’t look at her. After a moment I feel her sit next to me.

  “Look, you’re a good friend. You’re funny and talented. Didn’t being in the show tonight prove that to you? Come on. Don’t be upset with me. Is this the thanks I get for putting you in the show?”

  I look up from my hands and wipe my tears away. “What do you mean, putting me in the show?”

  Saskia smirks and rests her head on my shoulder. “Maybe a certain actress got sick from some baked goods I made her. You know, a good luck gift from her costar.” I just stare at her in disbelief. She looks back, annoyed at my disapproval. “You wanted to be in the show, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but not like that! What did you give her?”

  Saskia stands up and checks her makeup in the mirror. “Relax, she’s not going to die or anything. I just added some ipecac and some samples my dad gets for work with brownie mix. She’ll be back to her boring self in no time.” Saskia fixes her hair a little bit and squints in a way that makes her look like a predatory cat. “Besides, the audience loved us together! You should be delighted! Kessler will definitely cast you in the next show.”

  I just stare at her with my mouth open.

  “Look, Leila, you’re being a bit of a downer. Let’s get back out there. There’s still plenty to drink and I sent Greg home. It’s so difficult breaking in virgins. They get all starry-eyed after.” She extends her hand to me but I refuse to take it.

  “You’re not a nice person, are you?” I say, angry. She pulls her hand away and looks at me, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Nice girls are boring, Leila. Everybody knows that.” We look at each other for a few seconds more before she opens the door. “Cheer up, won’t you? No one likes a party pooper.” And then she leaves. When I finally exit the bathroom, I have to bump my way through the crowd that practically rushes the open door. I don’t cry again until I get to the elevator. I text Nahal to pick me up. Because this never happens, she knows I must be in trouble and says she’ll be over as soon as possible.

  Twenty-one

  I call Tess over the weekend but she never calls back. On Monday, in English class, I find out why. Ms. Taylor tells us that Tess is sick at home and spent a night in the hospital. She asks if someone can take Tess’s homework to her, and I volunteer immediately. I feel guilty for something I didn’t do. It’s hard to focus for the rest of the class. Lisa leans over and writes on the edge of my notebook.

  Do you want to talk about it?

  Everyone’s been buzzing all morning about Saskia and Greg hooking up. I’ve been avoiding Greg and Saskia all day and would like to avoid them for as long as possible. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I look at Lisa and shake my head.

  Science is even worse. Mr. Harris yells at me for not paying attention, and I mumble an apology, but really I can’t wait to get out of his class. After school Mom drives me to see Tess. Her mom greets us and leads me to Tess’s room while the two moms go off to get coffee. I don’t really know what to say to Tess. She starts.

  “How was the show?”

  “Awful. I forgot all the lines and everyone laughed. That role was yours from the get-go.”

  She smiles and it makes me feel a little better. “You’ll definitely be a shoo-in for the next show,” I go on. “Kessler would be nuts not to cast you.”

  “Thanks. It was cool feeling like a star for a while,” she says. “I know what people say about me. What they think about me. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me so much. In a few years I’ll be at Stanford or Emory, meet kids like me, finally be rid of my stupid retainer and maybe get a boyfriend. And Ashley and Robert, all those jerks? They’ll do all right, but they’ll still be unhappy. That’s why they’re so mean. I almost feel sorry for them.”

  “Don’t. They don’t deserve it,” I say loudly. Tess shifts in her bed, looking out the window.

  “It just would have been nice for them to see me differently. Next show, I guess. Thanks for bringing me my work.”

  “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

  “The doctor said I had an allergic reaction. I don’t know what I’m allergic to, but they’ll figure it out. ” I should tell her the truth. But I think I’m just going to be a coward instead. We watch TV for the next half hour, as Maury Povich tells us who the real fathers of a bunch of illegitimate babies are. Eventually our moms come back from the kitchen and tell us to stop watching that junk.

  The next few days at school I’m semicatatonic. I haven’t slept because I’m worried about Saskia doing something nuts, I’m worried that Tomas and the tech girls know I’m gay, I’m worried about my parents finding out about me, I’m worried about the winter finals that are coming up, and I worry about Tess. I haven’t been studying much. Ms. Taylor has noticed that I haven’t been participating in class and says she’s concerned about my other subjects. The dark circles around my eyes may have sort of tipped her to something, too. I tell her I don’t really care about much.

  “Is something wrong at home?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “Are you being bullied?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Is this getting us anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “Did someone break your heart?” She sure is perceptive. I bite my lip and look at the ground. She takes a deep breath. This should be interesting.

  She grins in a kind of manic fashion. “Leila, I know what it is to be brokenhearted. A great many people in the world do. It is one of the worst pains a person can know. And so I empathize. However, I’ve learned that moping doesn’t get you anywhere.”

  “I guess not, no.”

  “And we’re awesome, right? I mean we
’re real catches . . . we’re wonderful! And we’d better stop this moping,” she says, getting worked up like she’s a football coach trying to hype us up for a game. “We’re both going to pick ourselves up and we’re going to live again, because they’re the assholes, not us.” This is not exactly her most eloquent speech, but she’s right.

  “Thanks, Ms. Taylor.”

  When we exit the classroom, Mr. Harris is making a bunch of the popular girls in the hallway laugh and Saskia is sitting on Greg’s lap in a vestibule. Ms. Taylor and I just look at each other, miserably.

  “I’m going to the cafeteria,” Ms. Taylor says before she hoofs it down the hall. I can’t be in the same area as Saskia. I walk out to the parking lot to have a good cry by the tennis courts. I’m pathetic. I’m stupid. I’m depressed.

  “Want a Raisinet?”

  I’m not alone.

  I look up to see Lisa Katz at the base of the bleachers, wearing a long winter coat and smoking. She’s so cavalier about doing it on school grounds. I wipe my tears away and chuckle. She sits next to me and we don’t talk about when I last saw her. We just sit together, sharing Raisinets, and watch the middle school tennis players in their winter coats missing volleys in the distance.

  Twenty-two

  The distractions of the holidays keep me pretty busy at the beginning of winter break. Though my family doesn’t technically do Christmas, we exchange gifts around a plastic tree.

  But after Christmas my mother notices that I am gloomier than ever. I hate that I’m so full of angst; it’s such a cliché. Saskia wouldn’t be doing cliché things. Stop thinking about her! I have to remind myself to stop thinking about her because she’s an awful person who hurt Tess. But for some reason I keep dreaming about her. I’ve had a recurring dream in which I am in an enchanted forest, like something out of a Disney movie. Saskia is singing like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, and all kinds of woodland creatures crowd around her. She looks so gorgeous, I want to be near her, too. I get closer, and a bird perches on her finger as she sings a high note. Then her eyes go wide and she bites the bird’s head off. I usually wake up after that.