First, Last, and Always
Page 13
“On a Sunday, eleven is early.”
“Okay.”
“Did he say anything?”
“About what?” I ask.
“About anything?”
I chuckle. She’s in an extra energetic mood today. “Nothing new. We just talked.”
“Okay.” She sounds disappointed.
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
I sigh. “Okay.” I’m through trying to understand. Sometimes I think Lani has elaborate conversations in her head and everyone outside only gets sound bites of what’s actually going on.
Then she says, almost as an afterthought, “Miles is a really great guy, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
“I was thinking that the other day, just kind of popped into my head, what a good guy he is.”
“This is a big step for you,” I joke.
“What do you mean?”
“Seeing Miles as something other than annoying.”
“I do not think Miles is annoying.”
“You think most people are annoying,” I remind her. “Miles is just less annoying to you than most people.”
“Alright, I’ll give you that,” she admits.
“So, what happened? Was there something specific that made you realize how great he is?”
“Uh...no, not really. But I was thinking what a shame it was, ya know? I mean, here’s this great guy. This really awesome guy and he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“You know Miles. He’s shy. He’ll never go up and talk to a girl on his own.”
“Yeah,” Lani huffs. “I know.”
“Someday he’ll meet a nice girl. He’s one of those guys who will probably end up being totally hot in his thirties. He’ll come out of his shell and all the girls will fall all over him.” I can picture it. Miles gets a little better looking every year. He’s gone from window-pane-thick glasses, to contact lenses since first grade and he must have grown at least four inches since seventh. He’s taller than I am now.
“He’d be a good boyfriend too, I bet,” Lani adds.
“Probably.”
“What if the two of you ended up together?” Lani asks.
“Me and Miles?” I say with complete disbelief.
“Is it that impossible to imagine?”
I’m not sure impossible is the right word. Improbable may be the better choice. I know what’s going on here. I know what Lani’s trying to do—build up my confidence, giving me hope that I could actually be girlfriend material, making Miles the obvious potential choice—but extenuating circumstances and an engrained sense of self-pity make it difficult to see past all of that. The first day of school flashes in my head; the bus ride with Miles and Lenny.
Lenny: I know you like Charlotte.
The anticipation of the response returns, even though I know how it ends.
Miles: No. I don’t.
For some reason, it’s more painful remembering it. When I think back now, Miles’s voice sounds much more stern and finite, and he scoffs, practically gagging at the same time. The smidgeon of confidence obliterates before it actually forms and I say, “Miles and I are just good friends. That’s all we’ll ever be.”
Miles
Lani’s phone number appears on my cell phone. “Hello?” There’s breathing on the other end of the line without a response. “I know it’s you, Lani. Your name came up on my phone.”
Instead of hello’ I get, “Heard you called Charlotte. What’s goin’ on?”
“Lani, every time you ask, it’s like less than twenty-four hours from the previous time.”
“Persistence is a virtue,” she tells me.
“Not an attractive one.”
“I’m not trying to impress you.”
“Nailed it,” I say.
She hangs up.
9
Charlotte
I’m stepping into a bathroom stall Monday afternoon when Vanessa comes up from behind and pulls me aside. “So, you’re going to ask him today, right?” Her voice is so low I almost don’t hear her.
After I get over the initial shock of being ambushed, I nod. “I’ll try.”
She scowls. “I did not wear my favorite knit skater dress for nothing.”
“It looks nice.” The words just fall out of my mouth as if they’re the next natural thing to say.
“I know!” she exclaims while still trying to remain as discreet as possible. “So it would be really uncool if you didn’t talk to him today.”
“I’ll try to catch him before class,” I promise.
Her voice returns to normal and she shoots me one of her Barbie smiles. “You really are the sweetest.”
In the lunchroom, I trudge up to the table where Lani and Miles are sitting. They seem deeply engrossed in their conversation and don’t hear me approach. When I plop down, tossing my bag haphazardly onto the table and almost knocking over Lani’s soda, they immediately stop talking and turn their heads.
“You okay?” Lani asks with an air of concern.
“No. If you could find a way to hurt me and render my voice useless before my next class, I would really appreciate it.”
“You have a speech?” Miles asks.
“I have to come up with something to say to Grayson in the next thirty minutes.”
He nods. “Oh.”
Peering around the cafeteria, I spot Grayson in the corner with two other guys. Watching him gives me butterflies.
“You’re not doing that thing for Loch Ness, are you?” Lani asks.
I give her an apologetic look.
“Char—”
“Lani, please.” Her disappointment will crush me right now. “Don’t give me a hard time. Not today.” She looks hurt. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap, but this is stressing me out.”
Understanding, or at least pretending she does, she smiles and nods.
The next twenty minutes feels like five seconds. Miles and Lani continue to talk. For the most part I’m oblivious to their conversation; my mind and attention are elsewhere.
Toward the end of lunch, across the lunchroom, I notice Grayson getting up from the table. I follow him with my eyes as he walks across the cafeteria and dumps his tray. I’m acutely aware of the fact that Vanessa is also eyeing him the whole way. Transitioning her gaze to me, she mouths from across the cafeteria, Ask him. I wish I didn’t have perfect vision. It would be easy to say that I didn’t see her. Go! she mouths again, looking anxious. With a reluctant sigh I turn my head to let Lani and Miles know I have to go.
“Tell her,” I hear Lani whisper across the table.
“Stop saying that,” Miles says under his breath.
“Tell who what?” I ask.
They both stare at me like deer caught in headlights.
“Tell you about this great movie we saw yesterday,” Lani speaks up, suddenly excited. “You totally missed it. It was awesome.”
“I didn’t know you guys were getting together to watch movies.” I look at Miles. “I thought you were practicing basketball all day yesterday.”
“It was a last-minute thing,” Lani says.
“Oh.” I still feel kind of left out. “So, what was it?”
“Avengers,” Lani says.
“X-Men,” Miles responds simultaneously.
I laugh. “Which one was it?”
“Both,” Lani answers. “We watched both.”
“I’ve seen them,” I say. “They’re good.”
I make the mistake of glancing over at Vanessa again. She’s staring right at me. Go! she mouths, practically breathing fire. I grit my teeth and curse under my breath.
“I’m going to class,” I say out of the side of my mouth. “I’ll see you guys after school.” If either Lani or Miles says good-bye, I barely notice. I’m too preoccupied trying to come up with something to say. All I can come up with is, This sucks. When I’m almost to the next hallway and still unsure of what to say to Grayson, I realize I forgot my backpack. “Shoot,” I m
umble, glancing around.
Miles
At the end of lunch, Lani pulls a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “I thought this might help with your little problem.”
She’s killing me. She makes it sound like I’m impotent or something. “Lani, this isn’t the right time for this.”
She crosses her arms. “When is the right time?”
“I don’t know, but not now. I have to get to class.”
“Exactly. You don’t know. You never know. Then it dawned on me last night, I think you aren’t asking out our friend because you don’t know how to start the conversation. You need more help.”
I don’t want her help or advice or assistance or opinion or whatever it is she wants to offer, but I just see her freaking out if I say that, so I go with a less time-consuming, “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I know you’re just agreeing with me, but yes, I’m always right.” With a sigh, Lani stands up on her tiptoes, slides the piece of paper from her hand into mine, and whispers in my ear, “You and Charlotte are meant to be together.” She grabs my arm and squeezes. “You can do this, Miles. I’m serious. I know you have it in you.” Stepping back, she smiles and scuttles off to class.
Charlotte
Running back into the cafe, I notice Lani and Miles are still near the table. I spot them just as they’re standing up. I start to call their names to see if one of them might be able to grab my bag, but I stop short.
Lani is pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. She slides the paper into Miles’s hand and leans up on her toes. First I squint, then I blink, and finally I gasp as I watch her kiss him. It’s only a couple seconds, and it looks like it’s sort of a brush-of-the-lips, peck-on-the-cheek kind of kiss, but it feels longer and looks serious, and when they’re finished Lani smiles and hurries away like she’s running from a secret.
I’m too numb to move. My body is reeling with an insurmountable amount of confusion. Lani and Miles? The past couple weeks flash before my eyes—Lani asking me if I thought Miles was cute; the two of them whispering secretively at weird times; Friday night, when she stayed at his house after I left, which she never does; the fact that they watched movies alone together over the weekend. It all adds up.
Why didn’t I see it before? How could I miss something so obvious? There are so many emotions I should probably be feeling, but after the confusion wears off and the shock disappears there’s only one thing that remains: a small, but hugely painful twinge of jealousy. I find myself wishing it were me kissing Miles instead of Lani, which is crazy, I know, but it still crosses my mind. It hurts. Seeing the two of them together makes me feel like everyone I know has someone. Everyone but me.
Miles
In first period, I pull Lani’s note out of my pocket and read it. It’s clear that she actually thinks I’m an idiot. Her instructions are written for a first grader.
Step 1: Walk or drive over to Charlotte’s house.
Step 2: Say, “hello” and ask how her day was.
Step 3: Explain that you have something important to talk to her about.
Step 4: Ask her to sit down.
Step 5: Sit down next to her.
In step six I’m instructed to “Think positive”; step seven tells me to “Smile”; I stop at step eight, which tells me to “Reach out and hold Charlotte’s hand.” Ripping the paper, I crunch the pieces in my fist and stuff them into my pocket.
Charlotte
When algebra ends, Vanessa is waiting for me outside of class. I’m in such a stupor that I don’t even notice her. My feet are moving, one in front of the other, zombie-like down the hall.
“What the hell, Charlotte?” Vanessa whispers over my ear. She’s an arm’s length away. I’m sure she’s trying to make sure no one sees her talking to me, which won’t be too difficult to assume since I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m still wondering why I never realized Lani and Miles are a couple. Am I that dense and self-absorbed? Have I been too focused on Grayson?
“Hello? Earth to Charlotte,” Vanessa growls.
“Hello,” I mutter.
She scoffs. “What is wrong with you? Are you high?”
Staring straight ahead, barely blinking, I turn down the next hallway.
“All right. Whatevs. I can tell you have, like, zero brain cells today. But tomorrow...” That’s all I hear before someone else runs up and starts talking to her.
A bench outside the front of the school building provides the perfect view for people-watching. If you sit dead center, you can see pretty much everything—the buses as they pull in, the other students filing out of the building, the upperclassmen walking to their cars, and behind the parking lot there’s a clipped view of the track and football field. This bench is where I end up after the last class of the day.
In the ten short minutes I’ve been sitting here, a dozen students walked out the doors hand in hand; an upperclassmen couple kisses good-bye near the statue of the school mascot; another pair, who have their arms around each other in the parking lot, laugh at what I’m sure is some sentimental, just-between-you-and-me joke before jumping into a car; and, although they probably think no one can see them, two students are making out under the bleachers by the football field.
“Here you are!” Lani runs up and situates herself beside me on the bench. “I thought you were going to meet me at my locker. What are you doing out here?” I’m still staring straight ahead as she speaks. “Charlotte?” She waves her hand in front of my face to get my attention. I turn my head slowly.
That’s odd. Lani looks different to me, like someone I don’t know. “Everyone seems to have someone,” I tell her, feeling more alone than ever.
“That’s not true,” she argues.
“It is.”
“Aww.” She pats my leg. “Is this about Grayson?”
I shake my head.
“No?” Lani says, surprised.
I want to tell her, but how do I admit to something she doesn’t seem to want me to find out?
“Wait.” Lani holds up her hand. “Don’t tell me. Did something happen with Vanessa?”
“Nothing happened.”
“So you talked to him about her?”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t ask him. I didn’t get a chance, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Oh. What is it, then?”
My insides tighten. “We’re best friends, right?”
“Yeah,” Lani says without hesitating.
“You would tell me if something important happened to you?”
“Definitely.”
“For example, if you started dating someone, I’d be one of the first people to know?”
She nods. “For sure.”
“So?” I prod, hoping she’ll take the hint and open up. “Is there anything going on in your life that you want to tell me about?”
There’s a slight pause. “I don’t think so.” She looks pensive, concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The tightness in my stomach contracts. It feels like I got kicked in the gut. “Yeah,” I lie.
In case you’re wondering, hell has a shape—it’s square. And within that square there are fiery red digital numbers screaming in your face, berating you and taunting you in silence, making you feel worthless and flawed. Do not be fooled. Those who refer to the square piece of evil as a scale are wrong. The contraption that rests so innocently on the floor in your bathroom, pretending to be your friend, is not a scale. No way. That is definitely hell you are standing on. And that is where I stand now, an hour after school lets out, totally buck-naked. My body sweats. I can feel the flames rising up; each digit that blinks in my face burns hotter. I hold my breath as the numbers finally stop. I let the air out of my lungs and feel like I’m going to pass out.
These are my present realities:
I am big
I am boring
I am boyfriendless
The three Bs. The first two drive the third. Guys don’t like big and borin
g. They like vivacious, curvy, exciting, interesting, forward, courageous, and attractive. Standing in the bathroom, I look at the image staring back at me. Mirrors don’t lie. My current reflection is no different from the one that looked at me when I was twelve. In a few short days I’ll have my fifteenth birthday and there’s nothing excitingly different to look forward to. Meanwhile everything and everyone around me is moving on, growing up, starting new relationships. Even my two best friends seem to be moving further away—figuratively speaking. I’ve become an outsider, a third wheel.
Still looking in the mirror, I close my eyes. I hope when I open them I magically reappear as someone new.
My eyes fling open. That’s it.
Throwing on my clothes, I yank open the bathroom door, fly down the stairs, out the front of the house, across the lawn, and onto the sidewalk where I run as fast as I can down the street, around the corner, until I make it to Uncle Paul and Aunt Claire’s, knocking frantically on screen door.
“Oh my goodness! Charlotte? What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Aunt Claire cries when she opens the door and finds me standing there bug-eyed.
“I need your help with something,” I say, completely out of breath.
She nods, opening the door to let me in. “Of course. Anything. You name it.”
“I want to look completely different. I want to look like anyone but me.”
10
Miles
On Tuesday, when we get to Charlotte’s bus stop, a new girl boards. I look out the window for Charlotte. I don’t see her. A couple seconds later, I face forward and the new girl is standing next to me in the aisle. My jaw drops. “Charlotte?” I ask the girl.
“Do you like it?” the new person asks in return, before sitting down.
I shake my head. “Charlotte?”
She laughs. “Yeah, it’s me. My aunt Claire gave me a makeover and taught me how to do my hair and stuff.”
I’m speechless.
Charlotte furrows her brow. “So, what do you think?”