Six huddle by the lockers. “Party at my house on July 6th,” I said. “Tell everyone cool, and start with the seniors. Red-white-and-blue attire is mandatory.”
“Whoa,” said Noelle. “I like it. But isn’t it a little early to start telling people? You know how word spreads. The entire school will find out in an hour.”
“It’s not too early,” I said. Everyone looked at each other and shrugged. My word is law. It does feel wrong to have this much sway, but it’s also so convenient!
Tuesday, June 19
At least a dozen people have come up to me to ask about the party or tell me they’re excited for it. Even Lianna dared to mention it, but I pretended not to know what she was talking about.
This was our last day. We’re not juniors anymore. We’re rising seniors, and next year I’m going to rule with an iron fist (in a nice way, of course).
Wednesday, June 20
Grady and I had our first full shift at the pool today. It was hot, dry, sunny. Shining blue sky. I spent the morning in the concession stand selling Popsicles and chips and blowing kisses to Grady whenever I could catch his eye. I assumed he’d come over during the first adult swim, but he disappeared into the lifeguard shack, so I went to find him.
“Hey!” I said. “Listen to my idea. I have a little money saved up. I was planning to spend it on groceries for July, but I was thinking, if I eat ramen for lunch and dinner, I could buy party supplies with the rest. Not alcohol, because I don’t have an ID, and people will bring their own anyway. But sparklers. And I saw these American flag sunglasses online—you couldn’t not Instagram yourself in them. Maybe we could get a hashtag trending! I was thinking #4thon6th. Do you think that works? Grady?”
He was holding the water testing kit, staring at it like he’d never seen it before.
“Grady, hello? Are you listening to me?”
He didn’t say anything for a second. “Chloe . . .”
“Yeah?”
“No, nothing.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Adult swim’s almost over. Really, it’s nothing.”
He said he had to pick up Bear as soon as he finished at work, and now he’s not responding to my texts. What’s his problem?
Thursday, June 21
I can’t believe what just happened.
I got it out of him at work, first thing. I didn’t want to wait to talk to him, so I pulled the grate down over the concession stand window and taped up a sign saying, Technical difficulties. Back in five minutes, then went and sat next to him on his lifeguard chair. Thank God Reese hadn’t arrived yet.
As soon as I’d climbed up, I said, “What was yesterday all about?”
“Chloe, you’re gonna get in trouble if Mrs. Franco finds out the stand’s not open.”
“I don’t care. Why are you being shady?”
He narrowed his eyes at the water. There was no one swimming yet. We’d only been open for 10 minutes, and it was a warm morning, but not hot. He glanced at me. “I don’t think I can make it to the party.”
“What??”
“My mom wants to go away that weekend.”
“So tell her you can’t.”
“I don’t want to lie.”
“It’s not a lie! You have a preexisting commitment. You can’t miss the party! Do you realize how many Six pictures we’ll take?”
He shook his head. “The Six stuff—honestly, Chloe, I can’t stand it. I’m so sick of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t care about being popular. I’ve been telling you that for months.”
I stared at him. “You don’t like it when people are nice to you and interested in you? Because that’s all being popular is.” Not true, of course, but he was being so difficult, he was basically forcing me to contradict everything he said.
“Do you really believe that? You don’t even—never mind.”
“Grady, you can’t start saying something rude and then say ‘never mind.’ ”
“I’m not trying to be rude.”
“What don’t I even? Tell me.”
A kid wearing a Puddle Jumper walked down the stairs into the pool. His mother followed behind, saying, “Careful!”
Grady said, “You’re like a different person now. All you think about is Six stuff. Last summer we talked about everything. My art classes. Bear. New York. Even the dumb things—do you remember that day it was freezing but it wasn’t raining, so we couldn’t close the pool, and we tried to remember the plot of every single Harry Potter book without looking at our phones? We never talk for real anymore. All you’re interested in is hashtags and your personal brand, or whatever.”
“That’s not true,” I said. Was it true? I pushed the thought out of my mind.
“Do you realize you never invited me to prom? Not like I wanted some big thing, but you didn’t even ask me the question. You just assumed I’d go with you. You’re taking me for granted.”
“Grady.” I put my hand on his lower back and wriggled my fingers underneath the waistband of his bathing suit. He caught my wrist and set my hand back on my thigh.
“And whenever you think I’m upset, you try to distract me with sex.”
“Are you saying you don’t like having sex?”
He shook his head without taking his eyes off the kid in the pool. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel. Don’t pretend you don’t understand. That’s what my stepfather does—he twists my words around.”
So now I was like his evil stepfather? “OK, yeah, I talk about different stuff now. A lot has changed this year.”
The front gate opened, and Reese walked in, wearing her aviator sunglasses and a straw hat. She waved at us and headed across the pool to the deep end, where the second lifeguard chair is positioned.
Grady said, “I don’t want to be with Reese.”
“Uh, good, because you’re with me.”
He shook his head. “You might as well be her.”
“I can’t believe you’d say that to me, Grady. She’s my archenemy.”
“This is what’s freaking me out,” Grady said. “You don’t even see it.”
I climbed off the chair and glared up at him. “I’m nothing like her. Nothing.” Then I stormed over to the concession stand, ripped my sign off the grate, and started working.
Friday, June 22
You’ve got to be kidding me. Grady freaking dumped me.
I went to the pool intending to charm him out of his bad mood. I left Nadia in charge of the concession stand, then went over and apologized for cutting our conversation short yesterday. I told him how hot he looked in his red trunks. I asked him if he wanted to mess around in the lifeguard shack during adult swim. He was polite but not enthusiastic. Finally, after I said, “All we need is some make-up sex,” he said, “Chloe, no. I want to talk to you, not ignore it.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“All the stuff that’s bugging me.”
We were standing by the shallow end. It was 2 p.m., and the pool was packed.
I said, “I know I’ve been distracted, or whatever. I promise I’ll change. OK?”
“OK what?”
“Are we done talking?”
He looked at me like he didn’t even like me, much less love me. “No! I can’t even pay attention to you right now—look at all the kids swimming. This doesn’t count as talking.”
I crossed my arms over my ribs. “I don’t want to have some thing where we’re analyzing our relationship constantly. We’re not in our 40s and dating after a divorce. This is supposed to be fun.”
“You really think that’s what I’m asking you for? We’ve never even discussed our relationship.”
“We’ve never needed to! That’s what’s so great about it!”
He shook his head while gazing at the pool.
“All you do is shake your head at me,” I said. “I feel like you can’t stand me anymore.”
“Chloe, seriously, let’s talk abo
ut this later.”
“No, you know what? Let’s not. I don’t want to, and you can’t make me.”
“You sound like Bear. Are you four?”
“That’s really nice,” I said sarcastically.
“If you’re so uncomfortable being honest with me you can’t even have a real conversation for 10 minutes, I can’t do this, Chloe.”
“What are you saying?”
No one was paying attention to us, which made it seem impossible that we were breaking up. The littlest kids were in their mothers’ arms. The big kids were cannonballing off the diving board. The nannies were looking at their phones. Even Reese seemed more interested in the game of Marco Polo going on by the five-foot mark than she was in us. If Grady was dumping me, shouldn’t a cloud eclipse the sun? Shouldn’t everyone at least notice what was unfolding?
He said, “I don’t want to be with you if you’re going to be like this.”
I sneered to cover up the fact that tears were rushing to my eyes. “Fine by me,” I said.
Are those the last words I’ll ever speak to him? What just happened?
Saturday, June 23
I’m at Dad’s. I haven’t texted Grady. He hasn’t texted me. I look at my phone every two seconds. Dad and Miss Murphy can tell something’s wrong, but I’ve said I don’t want to talk about it, and they’re not pushing me.
I’m not going to be the one to apologize. Most guys would kill to be Grady. He’s a sophomore dating the most popular junior in our school. Not only that, but he lucked into a girl who would rather bone than analyze. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s him. I’m sure he will. Maybe he’ll need a few days to come to his senses, and that’s fine. I can wait.
Sunday, June 24
I worked the morning shift. Quentin and Jeff were lifeguarding, so I didn’t have to face Reese or Grady. When I got back to Dad’s, he was standing in the kitchen holding his phone. He had a worried look on his face.
“Everything all right?” I said.
“Probably,” he said. “I’ve been having trouble getting in touch with Julian. I’m sure he’s fine, though.”
It’s weird to think that everyone cares about their lives just as much as you care about yours. Dad might occasionally wonder how I’m doing, but then he goes right back to thinking about Julian or the baby or a case, or whatever’s on his mind. Meanwhile, Uncle Julian’s thinking about his boss or his new girlfriend; Tristan’s thinking about Elliott; Hannah’s thinking about Zach and his latest melancholy song, or most likely, youth group; and on and on and on. My problems seem huge to me, but that’s only because they’re mine.
Monday, June 25
Grady didn’t ignore me at the pool, but he didn’t rush over to apologize, either. We said hello when we arrived. After that we didn’t even make eye contact. I pulled my baseball cap low over my eyes and focused on making change and smiling at whoever came to buy food. In terms of providing excellent customer service, I’ve never had a better day at work.
Tuesday, June 26
Mom’s so excited about Saint Thomas, she’s singing in the shower and dancing while she does the dishes. Tonight she took a bite of the bulgur bowl she’d made, smacked her lips, and said, “If I do say so myself, that is delectable.” I’d planned not to tell her about Grady—it’s none of her business—but “delectable” was the final straw. I had to pull her out of Veronicaville for two seconds, by any means necessary.
“By the way, Grady broke up with me,” I said.
She made a concerned face but kept eating. “Oh, my darling,” she said. Her mouth was half full, and a tiny speck of feta was stuck to her lower lip. “How horrible. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, flipping my fork tines-down and then back up.
A few moments ticked by. I kept messing with my fork while I waited for her to ask me more questions. When had it happened? How was I feeling about it? Did I think there was any chance we’d get back together?
She looked thoughtful. “It’s the strangest thing,” she said. “I got a text saying my sarong was delivered, but I haven’t seen a package. Did you bring one in, by any chance?”
I told myself I’d eat every bite of my dinner and make pleasant conversation so she wouldn’t even realize how much I despise her. But without my permission, my body decided to stand up and walk away from the table.
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it!” my mother called. “Forgive me for trying to respect your wishes!”
When I got to my room, I punched my pillow a few dozen times. It didn’t help.
Wednesday, June 27
During our shift change, Nadia said she’d heard about me and Grady and asked if I’m OK. Reese was sitting on the lifeguard chair by the deep end, pretending not to listen to our conversation.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” I said, and then looked around like I wanted to make sure no one could hear us. “I think looking forward to the party helps.” I tried to create the illusion of whispering while still speaking loudly enough that Reese would be sure to overhear me. “Friday the sixth. Late July Fourth celebration at my mom’s. You can come, but bring your own beer.”
Nadia looked nervous and thrilled. “I heard about this. Am I really invited?”
“Show up around 9. Don’t tell too many people. It’s kind of an exclusive thing.”
Nadia nodded with wide eyes. Poor kid. She doesn’t even realize I’m using her to lure Reese into my trap. But that’s her problem. I can’t be held responsible for every underclassman’s naïveté.
Thursday, June 28
I wore a minuscule bikini to work and spent my breaks diving into the pool and climbing slowly out of it, going up the ladder Grady and I used to make out on last summer. Wiggled my butt around. Absentmindedly trailed a hand over my wet stomach. Ran my fingers through my hair. No dice. Grady sat with his arms folded and his expression stiff, refusing to look in my direction.
Friday, June 29
Reese bought a package of Skittles from me and said, “Rumor has it you’re throwing a party.”
“People love to talk,” I said pleasantly.
She stared at me, saying nothing, counting on me to crack as the silence stretched out and got more and more awkward. I put on my sunglasses and smiled at her. I could say nothing with the best of them.
Eventually she gave up and left. It’s almost a pleasure to think back to last summer, when I was terrified of her. What scared me, exactly?
Saturday, June 30
I was being a brat. Maybe it was my fault.
Last night after dinner Mom started packing for her trip. Within a few minutes she was sighing, yanking drawers out and then shoving them shut, and swearing under her breath. If there’s one thing that makes her furious, it’s doing a chore while someone else (me, Dad) sits around looking idle. I know this, and yet I was lying on the couch texting with Noelle, trying to figure out how many kids could realistically sleep over at the condo on Friday.
Mom went to the hall closet and tried to pull something off the high shelf. A bunch of bags and umbrellas fell on her and she shrieked in annoyance. Then she looked over at me and said, “Has it occurred to you that I could use some help?”
I was waiting to see what Noelle would text next, so I said, “One sec,” which I knew would infuriate her—and if I knew, why did I say it?
She rushed over to me. “You have no regard for anyone but yourself,” she hissed. “You act like a princess. You’re popular at school, and you think that actually means something, don’t you? Well, let me enlighten you. It doesn’t mean shit. YOU don’t mean shit.” Now she was yelling. “YOU’RE NOBODY. YOU’RE NOTHING.”
Then she grabbed my phone out of my hands and winged it at me. If I hadn’t ducked, it would have hit me in the face. But I did duck, and it smashed into the wall and fell behind the couch. I knelt down immediately and fished it out. The screen was cracked down the middle.
I thought she might apologize, but no, she wa
s standing there still puffed up, breathing hard, glaring at me.
I stood and headed to my bedroom.
“Don’t you dare slam that door,” she called after me.
I slammed it so hard, I shook the wall.
In my room, I examined my face in the full-length mirror on my closet door. Did I look like nobody? Maybe I did.
An hour ago she knocked on the door. “Chloe, I’m so sorry,” she said. I was lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. It’s hideous: one of those white ones that looks like it’s been painted in cottage cheese. I didn’t speak or move. She sobbed outside my door for a while, then gave up.
Sunday, July 1
I didn’t want to leave my room this morning, but I had to pee. Mom was waiting outside the bathroom door. “My darling,” she said when I came out, opening her arms like she wanted to hug me.
I pushed past her and went to the kitchen. She followed me.
“You know I would never hurt you,” she said, and started crying again.
I feel bad for her. That’s what I really can’t stand.
“Yep,” I said. I hadn’t looked her in the eye yet.
“I’m going to cancel the trip,” she said. “We need to work through this.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to play pretend with her. OBVIOUSLY she wasn’t going to cancel the trip.
“Unless you’d rather not be around me right now,” she said. I glanced her way and saw tears dripping from her chin. Jesus Christ. “Which I utterly understand,” she said.
“Do whatever,” I said.
Snickers came with me to the bathroom while I took a shower. I stayed in there for ages. When I finally finished and got dressed, Mom was standing by the front door with her suitcase, wearing harem pants, Birkenstocks, and a fedora.
Notes from a Former Virgin Page 24