18 Things

by Jamie Ayres

  Tammy returned holding at least five outfits.

  I figured it best not to point out if she didn’t take up two bedrooms, then the piles of junk could probably be stored in a better fashion.

  “Who’s hanging on your wall? A beauty queen?” I sat ramrod straight, my fingers moving across a tie-dyed top with a plunging neckline. With Tammy, there was always a plunging neckline.

  She held a pink neon shirt against my chest. “Yes, but she’s also my mom. She won Miss Michigan back in the day.”

  After laying the discarded shirt on her bed, she quickly picked up another tee.

  The picture couldn’t have been more beautiful if Michelangelo painted it.

  We’d never discussed her mom before, and I felt like I should say something. But I just sat there, wondering why I didn’t try to at least hug her. Five months after Conner’s death, and I still sucked at letting people get close to me, or vice versa. I wished for more in the future, but right now the broken me offered little. “I’m really sorry you lost your mom.”

  My sentiment sounded lame, but genuine, hopefully.

  Tammy shrugged. “Thanks. Life sure does suck sometimes, don’t it?”

  I turned around, then fluffed her pillows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She studied me, a third shirt in her hand now. “Not really. We have more pressing matters, like what you should wear tonight.”

  I reached out to touch her hand, but then let mine drop to my side. When she wanted to talk to me, she would.

  A half-hour later, I was dressed in black boots stretching up to my knees, just where the red plaid dress ended. We decided to aim for nineties grunge. As I sat at her vanity, Tammy tried to perfect my look.

  “Are you almost done? Drag queens don’t wear this much makeup.”

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day, my dear,” Tammy said in her cheerleading voice, high and clear and steady.

  I scowled at her reflection. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means shut up.”

  We met the Jedi Order inside the coffee shop at eight-thirty sharp.

  “Any last minute tips for me?” I forced a laugh.

  Sean pointed to the long line for drinks. “Hydrate.”

  “Right,” I said shakily, my stomach twisting in on itself. Coffee pots gurgled behind us, and I was thankful for this sound to calm my nerves.

  Nate gently placed his hand on the small of my back. “I’ll get you something. You and Sean should sign up for the contest.”

  I bit my lip, trying to stop the panic as others in line chatted happily.

  Kaylee, a girl from my computer class, turned and saw me. “Oh, hey, Olga. Loved your bucket list ideas in the Bucs’ Blade. Is this an 8-ball challenge?”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  “Ya know, signing up for this contest? Did all signs point to yes?”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, no. This was all Sean’s doing.”

  I rubbed his afro, and Kaylee and her friend smiled. Others eavesdropped on our convo with raised eyebrows and under-the-breath remarks, then talked to me about their bucket lists as we waited in line. When it was finally my turn, I bent over the small square table and wrote my name down for the contest. The lady at the table knew my name before I even wrote it. I took a step back and gave a slow, disbelieving shake of my head as Sean and I made our way through the crowd.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Leaning in, I told him, “It’s like people see me now. I didn’t think I cared before if they did or not, and maybe I didn’t, but I do now.”

  His eyes widened, and a smile illuminated his face.

  We rejoined our group at the table closest to the karaoke stage, and Nate handed me a cup.

  I took a huge gulp and groaned after swallowing. “Who the beep are you?”

  “Beep?” Nate questioned.

  “I don’t swear, and that was code for this isn’t the coffee I requested.”

  He nodded. “You didn’t actually request coffee. You just wanted to hydrate. And I thought this herbal tea would help calm your nerves.”

  I tugged at the collar of the plaid dress. “Listen, Bucko.”

  “Bucko?” Nate grinned. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

  “It’s the first thing that popped into my mind. I’ll think of something more insulting to call you later, okay? But that’s not the point. The point is coffee is always implied. If you knew me at all, you’d know that.”

  He shifted in his chair, leaning toward me, and butterflies swirled in my stomach.

  “I do know you.” He revealed another coffee cup in his other hand. “Chocolate-drizzled Snickers flavored mocha with whipped topping. And you should know, I get face palmed every time I order that for you.”

  I sipped tentatively, never a fool twice. “You are a gift from the gods, Nate Barca. Truly.”

  Taking another gulp, I realized I wasn’t really addicted to coffee like I used to be. Usually I drank the stuff like water, especially during the school year while I stayed up late at night to study. But for a long time now, I hadn’t even felt tired. I slept because I knew I had to. Still, I woke up every hour, on the hour. I forced myself to bed at midnight, then one, two, three, four, five in the morning, up like clockwork. Needless to say, my days started early, more productive than ever. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling I didn’t belong here and that I was missing something.

  I didn’t feel that weird twinge right now though, so I shook off my thoughts and settled back into my chair, taking in everything around me.

  The next couple hours were filled with nodding along to the beat of nineties pop rock songs. The little ball bouncing over the words on the screen mesmerized me. Judging rested with the audience, so we chose our cheers wisely. Sean sang his rendition of Crash Into Me by the Dave Matthews Band extremely well. He must’ve been in the top three so far.

  Only one person left to perform before my turn. My hands jittered on the table so badly that Nate placed his hand on top of mine, holding my fingers still. This did nothing to calm my nerves. To make matters worse, the guy performing on stage started singing my song.

  I clutched Sean’s shoulder. “What? Why are they playing that? Don’t they rule out repeats and stuff?”

  Sean shook his head. “Nope. Usually they’re not back-to-back like this though. You can change it. Just tell them when you go up there.”

  “Yeah. Wow. So easy.” Silence hung in the air for a moment. I swallowed, hard, then took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Any ideas? Help me, people!”

  “I Don’t Want To Miss a Thing,” Kyle yelled.

  The uneasiness in my stomach grew deeper. “Love the song, but there’s no way I can pull off Steven Tyler.”

  “Pictures of You,” said Nicole.

  “Technically, The Cure did that one in 1989.” Nate knew music trivia like most guys knew sport stats.

  Nicole rolled her eyes.

  “I Will Remember You,” Tammy said.

  Now I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, I get enough depressing at home without throwing Sarah McLachlan into the mix.”

  Nate cleared his throat. “How about Closing Time by Semisonic?”

  I looked at Nate, eyes glazed as the crowd went wild at the end of what was supposed to be my song. “That could work.”

  But as I made my way to the DJ, I knew what I should sing. I leaned over the sticky counter where coffee had probably been spilled a gazillion times. “Do you have Good Riddance by Green Day?”

  He handed me a microphone. “Sure do. Good luck.”

  My breathing was loud in my ears as I introduced myself. “Um, okay. Hi, my name is Olga. It occurs to me now that I should’ve bought you all ear plugs, because I totally suck at singing. But this is for my life list, and for Conner. So, here goes nothing.”

  The music started playing and I looked out at the crowd. I understood why many karaoke contestants made a habit of becoming inebriated before taking the stage. Since April, so much
had happened, all started by an act of God that took the life of my best friend. It took another act of God to get through the words of the song, singing about the end of a relationship, a turning point, something unpredictable but in the end right, reminding me whatever happened in life was meant to be.

  “Ol-ga! Ol-ga! Ol-ga!” The whole coffee house cheered, giving me a standing ovation. It felt like an out-of-body experience. Everyone surrounded the stage and high fived or slapped me on the back as I floated back to my chair. The high was better than when I swallowed those twenty pills. Then I shuddered, ashamed for my thoughts.

  “You sucked, but you totally rocked it, girl,” Sean said as I sat back down.

  “Yeah. That was kinda perfect.” Nicole had tears in her eyes.

  Nate gave me a playful nudge. “What happened to my suggestion?”

  His eyes were unreadable, and I hoped he wasn’t upset I didn’t take his advice. “Well, it just popped into my head while walking up there. I mean, that song could be the anthem of my life over the past six months.”

  “I could tell,” Kyle said. “I mean, no offense, but I think you know you don’t sing well. But you felt the song, so we felt it. It totally gave me an eargasm.”

  I laughed. “I hope you brought protection, then.”

  He pulled out a pair of earplugs from his jeans pocket. “Of course I did. I’m a drummer.”

  Nate motioned hitting a drum set as I said, “Badabum tsch.”

  We hadn’t even planned it, so our timing was a bit weird.

  “You two are so cute,” Tammy said, smiling mischievously.

  I wished I had two drumsticks to beat her over the head with.

  Another hour later, with my fourth espresso in hand, a barista named Leah announced the winners. Sean won the third place prize of twenty-five dollars. Then Leah declared I won an equal amount of money for the Best Worst Performance of the night. I just sat there, stunned. Winning felt like waking up in a foreign place—only I knew I hadn’t gone to sleep. Things like this only happened in my dreams, but this, this felt like living.

  “A long thing expected

  takes the form of the unexpected

  when at last it comes.”

  —Mark Twain

  Homecoming activities kicked off with the Powder Puff games on Monday night. The junior girls beat us at flag football, but the senior boys won the cheerleading competition. To celebrate, we took Nate, Sean, and Kyle to Dairy Treat. We were in the middle of coordinating our outfits for Wednesday’s Theme Day, where each class dressed according to a certain movie. Fittingly for the Jedi Order, the senior’s class movie was Star Wars.

  “So,” Nate gestured for me to come closer with his hand as Tammy tried convincing Nicole to dress up as Princess Leia, assuring her she’d look hot. “There’s a meteor shower this Saturday. I thought maybe you could come chill at my house for it, since I have a telescope.”

  We sat outside at a picnic table under a buzzing street lamp, shoveling ice cream into our mouths. I felt the same curious fluttering in my stomach I always felt when I got this close to Nate.

  “Um, aren’t you going to the dance?” Even though I was cheering at the Homecoming game on Friday against Muskegon, I opted out of going to the dance. The memories associated with almost attending my first high school dance six months ago were still too fresh.

  Nate ran a hand through his tousled hair and looked away momentarily. “The girl I was going to ask is unavailable.”

  Still in his Powder Puff outfit, which consisted of my borrowed navy blue cheerleading skirt, a white school spirit shirt stuffed with inflated balloons, and knee-high socks; he looked ridiculous saying this, and I suppressed a laugh.

  “I thought you could come over for dinner, watch a movie, and then head outside for the meteor shower.”

  My ice cream dripped on my knee, and I licked the sides of the cone. “What time will the shower start?”

  He squinted at the sky, and spoke to the air. “It’ll start in the evening, but it’s best to view after midnight.”

  Cars whizzed by as the light on Harbor Drive turned green and someone beeped their horn, yelling something inappropriate to Tammy out their window.

  “Oh, that’s my curfew,” I said.

  Tammy poked me in the ribs, apparently half-listening to our conversation. “So just say you’re spending the night at my or Nicole’s house and that we’re picking you up after the dance.”

  Nicole harrumphed, grabbing her ice cream cup, then stomped off to the trashcan. She told me earlier today that she thought Tammy was a bad influence on me, but whatever; I didn’t know when Nic turned to such an old stick-in-the-mud.

  Usually I starred in that role.

  Tammy lit a cigarette, then blew out a huge cloud of smoke, staying calm as ever.

  “Yeah, but when the meteor showers end, I won’t be able to go home, and you and Nicole will still be out. Aren’t the four of you renting a room together on the beach?”

  Cool air whipped around us, carrying the scent of fresh waffle cones.

  “Well,” Nate said, his voice shaky, “the meteors will go all night, so I figured we’d just stay up the whole time. My parents won’t mind.”

  Tammy flicked her cigarette and winked before breaking into a chorus of Lets Get It On by Marvin Gaye.

  I brought a finger to my lips, signaling for her to knock it off. “Okay. I told Nic’s parents I’d work at The Bookman until eight since I’m not going to the dance, so is it cool if I just walk over after my shift?”

  He stood and shot his empty chocolate shake cup into the trashcan. “Perfect.”

  Nate turned, then conversed with Sean and Kyle as Tammy openly gawked at me.

  “What?”

  She smiled and leaned next to my ear. “It’s kind of a big thing, crossing your first date off your list. Have fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  I cringed, because her last piece of advice covered nothing and because this wasn’t a real date. I wanted to tell her so, but she’d already turned back around, doing what she did best. Flirting.

  Walking up to Nate’s house, a beach cottage not quite on the beach, I remembered I’d never actually been inside. I’d never even been up to the front door. I always sat in the driveway, inside Sean’s truck or Tammy’s Lexus or Nicole’s Civic, when we picked Nate up to go out on the weekends.

  The two-story cottage, surrounded with unkempt bushes and climbing vines, made me think of the Boo Radley house from To Kill A Mockingbird. Autumn’s here, the yard more brown than green, but I almost tripped on a hose snaked across the grass.

  Apparently someone was trying to keep it nice.

  One tall tree stood in the center of the yard, skeletal with a mass of weeds at the base of its trunk, and all its dead leaves covered ground cover.

  Crisp air blew across me and stirred them up as I approached the half-open gate and walked up the creaky steps to their front porch. The outside light was on, and I used it to check my reflection in the window of their red wooden door.

  I didn’t care that I still wore my work clothes. Since we didn’t wear uniforms, my outfit consisted of a pair of khaki pants, a plain white tee, and a ruffled blue cardigan. I straightened my hair in the morning, but small waves returned. I dug out some lip-gloss from my purse and applied the cherry vanilla flavor with a vengeance before sighing, wondering why I suddenly cared so much about my looks. I fingered the cross on my necklace and rang the bell.

  Nate’s mom opened the door. She had golden eyes, dark brown hair like Nate, and looked a few years too young to be his mother. “Hi, Olga. Come on in. Nate’s in the kitchen.”

  She pointed down the hallway, which was lit with four giant, glowing fish aquariums with all kinds of creatures swimming around inside. To the right was a family room, where his dad watched the evening news from the couch.

  Following the sound of sizzling food, I found Nate lingering over a skillet on the stove.

  I inhaled deeply. “Wha
tcha cooking?”

  He turned, welcoming me with a gentle pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re supposed to say ‘Hey, good looking’ first.”

  My stomach fluttered with panic. Is this a date? Tammy kept teasing me tonight was, but I thought she was reading way too much into the whole thing.

  “I’m making comfort food—southern fried chicken, green bean casserole, and apple cobbler for dessert.” Turning his attention back to the stove, he flipped the chicken with his fork.

  “It smells delicious, but why do we need comforting?”

  The way he bit his lip and avoided eye contact told me my question made him uncomfortable, but I had no idea why. “I didn’t know if you’d be sad about not going to the Homecoming Dance tonight.”

  I leaned my hip on the counter, watching the grease pop in the pan. “Oh, well that’s very thoughtful of you. But I’m not sad, not about missing the dance anyway.”

  He pressed his knee against mine. “Hence the comfort food.”

  “How do you know how to cook all this?”

  Nate darted to the fridge, and I took the opportunity to check him out. He wore a pair of faded jeans with holes at the knees and a white graphic tee with a picture of a skull guitar strapped across the front as if it were a real one.

  He held up an energy drink, then threw it. I jumped and somehow managed to catch the can, then set it on the counter gingerly.

  “Um, can I just have some water?” I asked.

  After pouring me a glass, he grabbed a plate. “Cooking’s easy. You just keep turning the chicken until it’s browned, then drain the grease on paper towels.”

  Gesturing for me to follow his instructions, I stabbed a piece of meat with the fork, but while I transferred the chicken strip to the plate, the poultry broke off and dropped to the floor.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Yeah. Easy for anyone but me.”

  Nate picked up the fallen poultry, then tossed it in the sink. “Come on now. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m really good at figuring out complicated equations, but I can’t do a simple task, like cooking or driving, to save my life.”