by Amy Spalding
“How did this happen?” Reid asks once the screaming has died down. His tone’s the same, I’m positive, as it would be if a spaceship just landed in the room.
“Seriously, guys, I talked to him last time I was there, emailed a link to our site, and it was pretty much it,” Nathan says. “This is why I’m saying we need a full EP. If we’re getting this much attention just from our demos…”
“You’re not in charge, Nathan,” Lucy says. Her voice is the sweetest thing next to cotton candy and babies, but she is firm with this.
“I’m not saying I’m in charge,” Nathan says. “But—”
“Why are you so obsessed with an EP now?” Lucy asks. “Let’s just keep working on making our sets really strong and solid, and getting as many shows as we can. I think that’s been working for us.”
She looks over to Reid and me like we’re supposed to agree, and of course I agree but maybe we shouldn’t be picking fights and taking sides and risking how perfect this can be.
“Can we hear your song, Lucy?” I ask.
She smiles at me, the smile that’s reserved for Best Friend Riley. It’s nice that at least right this very second I can be her again.
We get through practice without any more drama, and afterward Lucy walks right out with the rest of us and tails me right to my car. “Hey, do you want to stay for a while? My mom’s bringing home Zankou Chicken later.”
“I totally would,” I say, “but I planned on doing something after this already.”
“Oh,” she says.
I can tell she doesn’t believe me BECAUSE IT SOUNDS TOTALLY VAGUE AND MADE UP.
“Sorry,” I say.
“No, I figured you wouldn’t want to,” she says. “I mean, couldn’t. Or, I guess I do mean wouldn’t.”
“I really can’t,” I say. “And I’d tell you more about what I’m doing, but it would just sound stupid.”
Lucy tucks her hair behind her ears and lowers her eyes to the ground. I realize the guys have already packed up and gone, and it’s just the two of us. This is how practice used to end all the time, and sometimes even specifically with Zankou Chicken on the way. I wonder if I didn’t already have my next hour all lined up if I’d be tempted to stay. And I wonder if I stayed what it would feel like, if we would sit on her bed juggling plastic containers and yelling at Foley the cat not to jump up to steal chicken. Maybe I’d tell her about Ted and Milo, and maybe even that part could seem a lot like before, when everything between us was easy.
“I never thought anything you said sounded stupid, Riley,” she says. “And you should know that.”
She heads back in, and even though I wasn’t lying, I feel like a jerk. When her garage door goes down I feel the metal descending to the ground is closing things off between us once and for all.
But I still get in my car and drive straight to the Glendale Galleria, where I don’t stop in any stores before making my way straight to the food court. Ted is standing behind the counter of Hot Dog on a Stick, true to his word wearing a baseball cap and not the multicolored fez of the girl deep-frying hot dogs and cheese while Ted mans the register. There are people buzzing around, clearly desperate for deep-fried food-court eats, so now that I’m here, I’m not sure what I should be doing.
But then he looks up and notices me. There is a flash over his face like the day was a zero and now it’s a ten or five stars or one hundred or whatever ratings system Ted’s brain uses.
“Hi, Riley.”
“Hi,” I say, all casual-like. “Can you fry me some hot dogs?”
“Well, Maribel’s working the fryer, but, yeah, I can get you whatever you want,” he says, and I have this truly awesome fantasy where I say something like “What I want is to make out with you RIGHT NOW, TED,” and then he’s across the counter and we have a Very Dramatic and Passionate make-out scene right here in the food court.
But I just tell him I would love a hot dog on a stick and the biggest Splenda lemonade they have. He walks over and tells the girl who must be Maribel, who nods and keeps on deep-frying.
“Here.” Ted hands me a large lemonade. Our hands touch for a moment, but it’s not that sexually charged or anything. There’s only so much that you can feel in a food court.
“So you’re working until close tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “What about you?”
“I don’t have anything going on.” It’s superlame for a Saturday night, but I don’t really care. Who wants to scramble around making other plans when standing here at this corn dog and lemonade stand feels like a great time?
“I can take my break soon,” he says, “if you want. I mean, to hang out. We could hang out. If you want.”
“Yeah,” I say, instead of something sexy using the phrase “I want.” Man, I am no good at that stuff.
“Cool, give me a few minutes.”
Ted joins me almost as soon as I’ve polished off my food, and we walk out of the food court toward the main mall. I can’t believe he manages to be attractive in his uniform.
“Do you like working in the mall?” I ask, even though I think malls are where hideous people and soul-sucking mainstream crap converge.
“No, it sucks,” he says, though cheerfully. “But I had to get a job, so it’s fine.”
It’s the second time he’s said he had to get a job, and I don’t know what exactly it means—like, for money or responsibility or who knows—but what I’m sure of is it doesn’t seem like I should ask. Everything between us is so new, and the last thing I want to do is push him.
“What are you up to?”
“I just had practice,” I say. “It was fine. We…” I realize I get to share this big thing with him and it’s hopefully going to seem like a big thing to him, too. “We’re opening for Murphy-Gomez—they’re a pretty big local band—at the Smell on a Saturday next month.”
“That’s awesome, Riley,” he says. “Is the Smell a big venue?”
“It’s not superbig, but it’s really great. It’s like an all-ages club, so there isn’t any alcohol, and they’ve given stage time to all these experimental and punk rock bands. Andrew Mothereffing Jackson would play there a lot back when they started out.” I stop myself because I could continue for another hour or so with everything cool about the Smell. “It’s a really big deal to me.”
“I’ll make sure I take off work that night so I can go,” he says.
“Thank you.”
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I probably should just keep doing what I’m doing, which is enjoying the crap out of walking around with Ted, but I check it to see it’s a text from Milo: got nadia+friends tix - wanna go?
I look over at Ted, but the truth is, I do want to go. So I go ahead and respond that I have to check with my parents first. It’s the least rock-star response possible, after “I’d rather stay home and tend to my antique cup and saucer collection,” but it does seem wisest.
“I should get back so I can clock back in on time,” Ted says to me.
“Already?” I ask, because it feels like Ted and I have only been hanging out for a few minutes. Then I check the time and realize it’s been nearly a half hour. Ted! Don’t think I’m clingy! Ted, I just can’t keep track of time.
“Unfortunately,” he says. “You can text, though. If you want to. I can check my phone sometimes if it’s slow.”
“Okay,” I say. “Bye, Ted.”
We lean in just a little, and then we both laugh.
“Just, we’re in a mall,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “It’s weird.”
“I’d kiss you otherwise,” he says, and it’s crazy how not getting kissed is suddenly the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The Madison Thing, Continued, by Reid
Things are totally opening up now that I’m dating Madison. Last night she calls while I’m playing Halo and asks if I’m doing anything. I just found an Easter egg that’s genius, but this is Mad
ison Price. I save my game and devote full attention to the phone call.
I let her know I’m not doing anything more important than her without making it seem like I’m an antisocial creep without plans. She says there’s “sort of a party” going on at Logan Perry’s house. I don’t jump at inviting myself but really casually say I don’t think it would be the worst thing to go. Mom says I can borrow her car so I get it and head over to pick Madison up.
She’s waiting in front of her house, and she looked great at school earlier today, but she changed into a dress that’s pretty short. I don’t know if it’s for the party or for me but it can only be a good sign. I don’t make a big deal out of how I don’t really get invited to this stuff normally and I’ve never been to a random weeknight party before, and luckily she doesn’t either.
We end up messing around in the car for a while instead of going to the party right away. I know Madison used to go out with Ryan Holland and of course apparently every girl’s had their expectations set really high by Garrick Bell so I’m feeling a little intimidated but things are going okay.
So when we get to Perry’s party I’m in a really good mood. It’s exactly the crowd you’d think. Everyone’s cool to me, though. I can’t believe how big of a deal the show at the fall formal was. People have serious respect for me as a musician, and I’m just instantly accepted as someone who should be at parties like this.
I’m kind of exhausted from all the socializing, which is way more than ever happens for me. Luckily, Madison shows me to an empty room in the house, and we pick up where we left off with the messing around. It’s definitely already--in the car--gone further than anything that’s happened to me before, which is awesome. In all interests of remaining honest I’ll say it isn’t exactly going that far but for me some new milestones are getting reached.
Then some dude yells and bangs on the door and says Perry’s parents are coming home soon so we have to clear out. So we do, and I try to reinitiate things in my car but the moment’s pretty much over for both of us plus I’m not sure you can ask a girl to be partially topless in a car so I just take her home.
Still, it’s an amazing night, and I think after a couple more like this, we could be to the point of actually doing it. And that’s crazy but is starting to feel like something that could actually happen. Obviously, going out with Madison is great--and the possibility of having sex within the near future is great and shocking, considering just very recently everything seemed hopeless.
But I don’t know if I should bring it up or just let things happen, and I don’t know if I’ll be any good at anything. I figured once I was ready to have sex with a girl, things would just be completely awesome. And instead I have all these new things to worry about.
Why does everything have to be so complicated?
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
On Monday morning, I meet Reid at my locker.
“Hey,” he says. “I was walking by Nora Wilton’s locker and I heard her saying, ‘Can you believe Madison is going out with Reid?’”
“Ugh, Nora Wilton’s a jerk,” I say. “Who cares?”
“Ri, who cares? I care. It’s great knowing the whole school is talking about how I don’t deserve her. What if she breaks up with me because of that?”
“She won’t.” Why am I defending Madison Price? Madison Price seems like the kind of person who actually would do that, but I can’t have Reid heartbroken. Again. “Seriously, Nora’s a huge jerk. You’re awesome.”
“I’m not awesome,” he says. “No one thinks that.”
“People think it, Reid. Don’t fall apart because of one person.”
“I’m not falling apart,” he says. “Do I seem like I’m falling apart? Great, that sucks, too. Don’t say it so loud people hear you.”
“No, and I’m sorry, it sucks if people are saying things like that,” I say, because it does. “But you only heard Nora, and like I said, she’s like a well-known jerkface. I’m sure no one else is thinking that.”
“You don’t know that,” he says. “Probably everyone else is thinking that.”
“I’m serious. They aren’t.”
I’m sure he doesn’t believe me, but at least he seems to accept my belief in this fact and moves on from my locker.
Someone walks up behind me as I’m getting out my chemistry book, and I speak without even moving. “Yes, I mean it.”
“You mean what?”
I turn around, and it’s actually Madison Price, not Reid, standing there. Ugh.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I say.
“What’s up with Reid?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say, instead of “he heard people saying you were too good for him.”
“He could barely talk to me this morning,” she says.
“He’s being weird,” I say. “Just, you know, he’s neurotic. He needs assurances. Is that stupid to say?”
“No,” Madison says, like her whole face is duh. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not like him.” I’m afraid it sounds like I’m gossiping. Even though I know Reid is overreacting right now, I still want to protect his fragile ego and heart. “Haven’t you noticed that?”
“The other day he did ask me three times what I thought of his shirt, so.” She rolls her eyes. “So I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” I say.
She shrugs again. It’s, like, her only mode of expression. “Okay.”
“He freaks out really easily.” Hopefully I’m not stepping over the boundaries of what’s okay to say about your friends and what isn’t. “But with him it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just how he exists.”
“Okay,” she says with another shrug. “Thanks, Riley.”
“Hey, um, can I ask you where you got your earring?” I still think it’s dumb she wears it, like, every day, but I can admit it’s cool.
“Oh, I made it.” She reaches up with one hand to fiddle with it. “I can make you one, if you want. It’d look cool when you play.”
“Oh, um, thanks.” It will look cool when I play, and also, maybe Madison is less boring than I thought. At least she’s crafty.
“Well, see you.” She takes off down the hallway to join up with other girls who are skinny and pretty and rich, because that’s how it works, but it’s weird how just this fast I don’t hate her anymore.
Though she could still stand to learn more expressions and gestures.
* * *
At Yearbook after school, Ted walks in and straight over to me. “Hi, Riley.”
“Hey.”
We’re just kind of standing here beaming at each other in the middle of the back of the room, and I wonder if we seem odd to everyone else. We definitely seem odd to me.
“Oh.” Ted opens his messenger bag. I notice the Gold Diggers button I gave him supercasually the other day is pinned in a prominent place. “Aren’t these weird?”
He takes out two lollipops and hands both of them to me.
“They’re totally normal,” I say, but he waves his hands to cut me off.
“No, look at the flavors.”
“Bootylicious Blueberry?” I grimace. “Why do people think something named after a butt should go in your mouth?”
“I know!” Ted points to the other one. “That one’s weird, too!”
I check the label on the purple lollipop. “Passion… Purple. Not grape?”
“Not grape,” he says. “Purple.”
“You have to eat the Bootylicious one.” I pull off the wrapper and hand it to him. He raises his eyebrows but sticks Bootylicious in his mouth. “What does it taste like? Booty?”
He laughs. “No, chemicals. But good chemicals.”
“Oh my god, I love chemicals.” I shove Passion Purple into my mouth. “These are good chemicals.”
He sits down at the desk next to my usual desk.
“Are you going to the Past the Heartbreakers show on Friday?” he asks. “I saw your button.” He points to it on my bag. “
And I’ve heard they’re cool.”
“I don’t know. Reid hates them, and Milo—” I catch myself. “My low, uh, never mind, that doesn’t make any sense. Basically I have no one to go with.”
“I’m going.” He blushes. “I have an extra ticket. For you. I mean, if you want to go. With me.”
Oh my god, Ted Callahan is asking me out. For real. On an actual date. To a concert he sought out after memorizing the band buttons on my backpack.
TED IS TOTALLY ASKING ME OUT.
“Totally.”
“Okay,” he says, “cool.”
“I want to taste Bootylicious.” I grab the lollipop out of his mouth and swap it with Passion Purple. Oh my god, wait, is this crazy? Sure, we’ve kissed several times, but maybe it’s more intimate to switch lollipops. And Ted raises his eyebrows at me like he knows it’s a little strange. Ted, I know it’s a little strange, too! I just got all caught up in the asking out and the random flavors, and also I guess I am a little strange!
“Bootylicious is better,” he says.
“Is that your professional opinion?” I ask. “As a lollipop expert? Because I totally think Passion Purple is better.”
“You don’t have to be an expert to recognize its superior quality.” Ted swaps the lollipops back. Now we’re both weird, so it feels even-grounded, and I’m pretty sure Ted did that just for my benefit.
* * *
Reid comes over after school because he claims he needs to talk. I need practice time, but I manage to get in some work on my hand control before Reid lets himself into the guesthouse with Peabody.
“Madison is going to break up with me,” he says.
“She isn’t.” I switch off to a more impressive technique for public consumption. Reid and Peabody count as the public. “She probably thinks you’re going to break up with her, because you’re being such a freak.”
“‘A freak’? Did she say that?”
“God, NO. Stop it, Reid. She’s pretty and popular and apparently good at crafts or at least feather arts so just ACCEPT IT.”
He stares at me for a solid minute. “What are feather arts?”