Love, Love, Love

by Deborah Reber

  The electric bus quietly approached and pulled over for me. I climbed on and walked down the aisle until I found an empty double seat. I slid over to the window as the bus picked up speed.

  While I was still superupset about the way Molly had tried to force her agenda on me last night, deep inside I knew it was my fault in the first place. I mean, in order to be a successful dictator, you’ve got to have people to govern. And I had all too willingly allowed myself to become Molly’s loyal and unquestioning subject. So what did that say about me? Why had I always been so quick to put other people’s wants, needs, and desires in front of my own? And what had happened all of a sudden that made me finally notice what was really going on with our friendship and take a stand?

  I knew the answer to that last one. Janna Ika Ilka happened. And as I sat there, staring out the bus window, I had to wonder why it took me pretending to be someone else to figure out who I really was.

  *

  To say the next day at school was awkward would be an enormous understatement. Molly was an ice queen, the chill in the air nearly knocking me over anytime we came within ten feet of each other. Having Molly give me the cold shoulder would have been bad enough, but the taunting was pushing me to the brink of a breakdown. Specifically, while seated across the table from me at lunch, Molly offered to spare me the difficulty of confessing to Julian by telling him the truth herself. You know, because that’s what loyal and good friends do for one another. I didn’t think she’d go through with it, but with Molly one can never be too sure. Either way, the thought of Molly running to Julian and telling him the truth seriously stressed me out. Oh yeah, and then there’s the fact that all communication between Molly and me was conducted without us actually addressing each other at all. Emmett was our reluctant mediator.

  The afternoon was filled with more awkwardness, this time between Ms. Kendall and me when she called me up to her desk after cultural studies class.

  “Ms. Papp. I have to say, I was very pleasantly surprised by your extra-credit report! You really put a lot of effort into it.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, lucky for you it paid off. As long as you do well on the final exam, I’d say you’re in great shape to get a B in the class.”

  “Thanks,” I said softly, grabbing the paper out of her hand.

  “Thanks? That’s it? I was expecting a little more enthusiasm. Wasn’t this really important to you?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. That’s great news, really it is. And thanks for reading it over the weekend.”

  I folded my paper and stuck it in my bag as I trudged out of her classroom. Sure, I was glad I managed to eke out a B in my class, but today was the day Molly’s mom had to confirm our plane tickets. And with the way we’d left things on Saturday night, I could only assume that the trip, at least for me, was off.

  By the time Emmett drove me home from school that afternoon, I was feeling sick to my stomach. The giddy Julian crush feelings I was still experiencing were becoming increasingly overshadowed by the fact that the fight between Molly and me wasn’t going to blow over anytime soon, and I was afraid of what she might do to make her point.

  When we pulled up to my house, Emmett found a spot on the street and turned off the engine.

  “All right Jan … seriously. I need to know everything. What’s going on between you and Molly?” Emmett had been doing his best to be Switzerland, but neutrality wasn’t his strong suit. And while in the past week he’d been increasingly distant, the fight between Molly and me actually seemed to revive my relationship with him a bit. Maybe he thought I was finally beginning to regret the charade Molly had pushed me into. Whatever the reason, I decided I needed his help.

  “Everything’s such a mess right now, Emm. Molly’s mad at me because she got dumped by Spence, and she thinks that means I should dump Julian, too. She actually told me that if I was a loyal friend, then I would stop seeing Julian. And I’m just sick and tired of her always telling me what to do! It’s like she thinks she can control my life, and since I finally stood up for myself and told her she can’t, she’s pissed off at me.”

  Emmett was listening thoughtfully, trying to make sense of the situation. “Okay. Let me see if I’ve got this right. Molly is mad at you because she can’t make you stop seeing Julian. And the reason you don’t want to stop seeing Julian is because Molly is telling you she wants you to? I’m confused,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to stop seeing Julian because”—I paused, my eyes filling with tears—“I like him. I mean, I really like him.” I broke off, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. I’d never cried over a boy before, but then again, I’d never felt this way about a boy before, either.

  Emmett leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything, so I kept talking.

  “And now I don’t know what to do. What if she really does tell Julian the truth about me? I don’t think I could handle him finding out!” The tears were streaming down my face now, faster than my sleeve-wiping could possibly keep up. “I just wish I could make this whole mess go away. I mean, I know that if Julian had met me as just me, he wouldn’t have been interested. But now, what’s the point, anyway? There’s no way he’s going to like me once he knows the truth.” I paused, waiting for Emmett to assure me I was wrong. He didn’t. “Right?”

  Emmett opened his eyes and looked at me. I could tell he was sad, too, because his eyes were full of hurt. Wow. I knew he was a good friend, but his ability to empathize was really amazing.

  “Look,” Emmett said slowly. “If you really like Julian, you have to tell him the truth.”

  “I know,” I answered quietly. I took some slow breaths and blew my nose into a napkin I found on the floor of the car. “But how? How do I tell him the truth without him hating me?”

  “I don’t know if you can. But I do know that it’s going to be worse if someone else does it for you. It should come from you and on your terms. Just be honest. That’s the best you can do.”

  “What if you were Julian? Would you still like me if I told you what I did?”

  Emmett didn’t answer right away.

  “I would definitely be pissed. And I would definitely feel used,” he said. “I really don’t know. I wish I could tell you that everything will be peachy keen and hunky-dory, but it really depends on Julian. Of course, if I were him, I would also know that you’re an incredible person and that this little screwup was just a blip on an otherwise untarnished record of good deeds and thoughtfulness and general awesomeness.”

  I let a small chuckle slip out between sniffles.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Emmett asked me.

  I took a deep breath. Emmett was right. It was time for the charade to end. “I’m going to tell him,” I said resolutely. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I have to tell him. And I have to tell him now. The longer I drag it out, the harder it’s going to be.”

  Emmett nodded his head in agreement.

  “And maybe he’ll see how sorry I am and we’ll still end up together, right?” I asked.

  Emmett hesitated before answering carefully. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I leaned over and gave Emmett a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Thanks, Emm. For listening. For understanding. For being my friend,” I said. “You’re the best.”

  “You are,” he said. “The best, that is.” He started up the car. “It’s the right call, Janna. He needs to know who the real you is if you really want to see what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, I know. But wait—what about the whole Molly situation?”

  “Don’t worry about Molly. I’ll handle her. Anyway, she’ll realize what a diva she’s being soon enough, and then you guys will patch things up. Okay?”

  “Okay, I guess so. I’ll talk to you later.” I grabbed my backpack and jumped out of his car. Emmett pulled away as I walked up the steps to my front door. A second later, my phone vibrated. I unzipp
ed the small pocket in the front of my bag and pulled it out. It was a text. From Julian.

  How’s my favorite Hungarian girl today?

  A flush of warm excitement coursed through my body just knowing Julian was thinking about me. I unlocked the front door and sat down on the love seat. It was time to engage in some digital flirting. Why not? I certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth via text message, right? I couldn’t leave the boy hanging.

  Very good. U?

  Great. When can I C U?

  Don’t you have picture of me on your cell?

  LOL. R U always this funny?

  Yes.

  Want to go to the Market w/me after school this week?

  Yes. I wanted to go anywhere with Julian. Maybe that would be the perfect time to tell him the truth.

  OK. Sounds nice.

  Can’t wait to C U.

  Me 2.

  TTYL.

  Bye!

  I clicked off my phone and leaned back in the sofa. What was I doing? Digging a deeper hole for myself, I thought. I sat up and grabbed my backpack, pulling out my extra-credit cultural studies paper. I flipped to the back page of the paper and read Ms. Kendall’s note:

  Janna, congratulations on putting together such a well-researched paper. I can tell that you took this assignment to heart, and that’s why I’ve given it an A+. I hope this means your trip to Europe is back on!

  I closed the paper and tossed it onto the floor. Too little too late. Oh, well. Maybe not going to Europe this summer means spending more time with Julian. That is, if we were still together. I closed my eyes and willed with all my might for that to be true.

  By Wednesday, things were no better. Between Molly and me, that is. And that sucked, because even though she may be a self-centered narcissist (as Emmett continued to remind me), she was still one of my best friends. Now that I was readying to level with Julian, I really could have used her advice.

  Since turning to Molly wasn’t an option, I kept a low profile, focusing on classes, avoiding Molly’s hard stares, and allowing myself to enjoy being the continued recipient of Julian’s attention, especially since I knew said attention was probably coming to an end, and fast.

  Much to Emmett’s obvious confusion and slight annoyance, I also continued to embody Janna Ika Ilka. No, I wasn’t walking around Delmar High School speaking in a Hungarian accent, but I was still dressing like my alter ego. I figured I’d embrace the confidence and attitude that came along with my new look, at least until I had to say good-bye to Janna Ika Ilka for good.

  “Have you told him yet?” Emmett asked Tuesday night after we had finished going through our respective rants. As had been the case over the past few days, my rant centered around Molly and Henry, the latter of whom was relentlessly trying to cash in on my situation by blackmailing me. He’d recently moved on from Legos and had begun negotiating for a cut of my allowance and pawning off the more undesirable chores. Why couldn’t I have a brother who excelled in baseball or math instead of the fine art of extortion? At least once everything was out in the open, Henry would no longer have anything to hold over me.

  But I digress. Going back to Emmett’s question about telling Julian, I gave him a status update, aware that it would be met with disapproval. “Not yet. I’m going to see him tomorrow after school. I think I’m going to tell him then,” I said.

  “You think?”

  “Let’s just say I’m planning to tell him. I haven’t completely figured out what I’m going to say yet. I’m still really scared of what’s going to happen when he finds out.”

  “There’s no easy way to do it, Jan. It’s kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. You just have to tear it fast and hard and hope you don’t pull off too much skin.”

  “Thanks for the lovely visual,” I said. “Look, I know you’re right, Emm. I just feel like I’m going to puke whenever I think about it.”

  “It’s not going to get any easier. In fact, the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be. I guarantee it.”

  And so that’s why I decided to definitely tell Julian on Wednesday after school. I would just find the perfect opportunity and blurt it out. After much deliberation, I’d come up with the approach of, “What would you say if I told you I wasn’t going back to Hungary next month after all?” thinking it might be a good place to start. You know, get him excited at the thought of me sticking around. Then I would simply explain why I was staying. Maybe the reason itself wouldn’t even be such a big deal. Hey, maybe he’d be so glad he didn’t have to say good-bye to me that he wouldn’t even care about the whole deception thing. Yeah, right.

  Julian and I had planned to meet by Rachel the pig, which is to say, the bronze pig statue that marks the main entrance of Pike Place Market. I’m not sure whether I showed up a few minutes early or Julian got there a few minutes late. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that, in the five minutes I spent waiting for Julian, my resolve to tell him the truth slipped away. It’s not that I was backing out altogether. Rather, after careful consideration, I had rationalized that I should wait for the universe to give me some sort of clear sign that it was the perfect moment to tell him. After all, timing is everything, right? And since the odds were stacked against me, having timing on my side would definitely better my chances of a positive outcome.

  Now, some people might say the fact that I spotted one of my mom’s best friends, Ms. Finchel, at the market might have been a sign that I should tell Julian everything. I, however, read it in a completely different way. To me, seeing Ms. Finchel’s overprocessed mane of red hair moving toward me through the market stirred a fear in me I hadn’t felt since the midnight showing of The Exorcist with Emmett last year. Furthermore, any lingering courage to tell Julian flew right out the window.

  Up until the time I spotted Ms. Finchel, everything had been going great. Julian and I had been perusing the different tourist shops and artisan booths, inspecting the kitschy art, photographs, homemade jams, and other wares. We had watched the seafood vendors toss around gigantic fish, much to the delight of the throngs of vacationers, who followed up the theatrics with collective oooohs and aaaaahs. The energy between Julian and I was light and playful. For the first time in my life I felt like I was actually half of a couple.

  We had passed by the dozens of fresh-flower vendors and headed out of the market to check out the booths along Western Avenue when Ms. Finchel came into view. I wasn’t sure if she had spotted me or not, but I couldn’t afford to take any chances. The second I saw her, I dove into a giant pile of T-shirts in the booth to my right. I forgot, however, to tell Julian, and apparently he continued to walk a half block talking to air before realizing I wasn’t next to him. By the time he found me, I was frantically rifling through T-shirts as though in a desperate search for the right color and size. I had pulled my hair out of my ponytail so it hung loosely and covered up most of my face.

  “There you are! I didn’t realize you wanted to look at these … cheesy T-shirts,” Julian said.

  Julian wasn’t being judgmental. I looked up at the shirts on display. They were all images or sayings about cheese.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I, er, love cheese. I just vanted to look.”

  “That’s cool.” I could tell as he started flipping through the piles of shirts that he probably didn’t think it was cool at all, but for whatever reason, he went along with it.

  As I continued poring through piles of cheese shirts, I stole a glance behind me and was relieved to see Ms. Finchel about to walk inside the market. Crisis averted.

  Trying to simmer down the adrenaline coursing through my body, I stood up straight and suggested we move on.

  “I done. I sink I don’t get shirt.”

  “Really? Come on. Let me get you one. How about this?” Julian held up a T-shirt with a picture of a cowgirl on it lassoing a hunk of swiss. It said REAL GIRLS EAT CHEESE.

  “No, zat’s okay. Sank you.”

  “Come on, please? Think how cool you’ll b
e walking around Budapest wearing this piece of art!” Ouch. The mention of Budapest jabbed me, reminding me of how I’d lamely chickened out of telling Julian the truth.

  Julian held up another T-shirt, this one covered with cartoony pictures of different types of foods featuring cheese: Cheez Doodles, cheese bread, cheese fries, pizza, and so on. The saying was EVERYTHING’S BETTER WITH CHEESE.

  I put my head down in embarrassment, but Julian took my lack of response as my way of saying yes. A minute later he’d handed over eight dollars and I had a new addition to my wardrobe.

  “Come on, let’s see it on you,” Julian said, holding it up to me. What the heck. I didn’t want to insult him. After all, this was the first present Julian had ever given me. It had meaning.

  I slipped the shirt on over my black, long-sleeved T-shirt. “How does eet look?”

  Julian stepped back and eyed me like he was a fashion critic. “Great. You’ll be the envy of all your friends in Hungary.”

  There it was again. My lie staring me back in the face. As hard as it would be to tell him the truth, I wouldn’t miss having this cloud of guilt hanging over my head, that was for sure. “Sank you,” I said.

  “My pleasure. A little something to remember me by.”

  After Julian dropped me off at home later, I walked in the door and saw my mom and brother had just sat down at the table for dinner. Dad was in Chicago.

  “Hi, honey!” my mom called. “I was starting to get worried about you. Where were you?”

  I peeked into the dining room. “Oh, just hanging out with Emmett,” I lied.

  “Hey, Janna. Crackers just called for you. They want their shirt back,” Henry said. “Get it? Cheese and crackers?” Henry snorted.