“Where’s your food?” Rachel asks me.
“Oh, uh, the line is too long,” I say. “I’ll go back in a little while.”
“Okay.” She takes a bite of something gloopy and delicious-looking, then says, “Do you want to come over after practice?”
I’m confused. “Tonight?”
“Yeah!”
“Uh, the dance is tonight.”
“I know, silly,” Rachel says. “You can come over after practice and we can have dinner and play dress-up. We can do each other’s hair and everything! Then we can go to the dance together.”
I try to figure out the best way to say this. “Well, it turns out I might be meeting that guy Damian at the dance.”
Rachel’s eyes go wide. “Seriously? The artist kid with the red jacket?”
“Yeah,” I say, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it. “You know, he asked me, and I couldn’t say no, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, got it,” Rachel says. “Well, you can still come over before and we could still go together. If you want.”
“Yeah, cool, maybe.” That’s all I say. I wish I’d gotten some lunch after all, so I could stall by taking a bite of whatever it was that I’d have. Because the truth is, I don’t really want to go over to Rachel’s house and get dressed. And the other truth is, I’m not sure I want to hang out with her at the dance. Because if we did, that means I’d kind of be responsible for her the whole time. And yeah, she’s my best friend, and I’d do anything for her, as long as “anything” doesn’t mean standing next to her making fun of the people who are dancing, as a way to make us feel better that we’re not.
“What does ‘maybe’ mean?” Rachel asks.
“I think my mom really wants me to get dressed at home.” It’s the first thing that pops into my mind, and amazingly enough, it’s actually the truth. “This is a big deal for her, my first formal dance and everything, and I think she might be sad if she didn’t get to share it with me.”
“Oh, right!” Rachel says. “That’s so stupid of me not to realize that. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for!” I take out my phone. “I’m going to send myself a note to text you right when I get there. I can’t wait to see what you look like in that dress. You’re going to look so gorgeous!”
“I know. I am, right?” Rachel says. “I’m going to rock it! We both are!” For the first time ever, I can sense a slightly desperate edge to her enthusiasm, but I pretend not to notice it, and to distract both her and myself, I help myself to a few of her fries.
They’re delicious.
I come out of the lunch line and there it is.
My seat.
At my table.
Empty.
The same seat I sat in last year and thought I would sit in every day this year, right up until a few days ago.
Ella and Ellie are waving me over. They’re back in their usual seats, too, as is everyone else.
It’s like nothing has changed. Except a lot has.
“Welcome back,” says Camille, from her side of the table. “What was it like out there in the real world?”
“Hahaha, very funny,” says Ella, shutting Camille down.
Ellie grabs my arm. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about.”
Before I sit, I glance around the cafeteria, and my eyes land on the table where I sat on Wednesday, with Beth, Kara and Shelby. I wave to them and shrug. They wave back and laugh.
“Who’s that?” asks Ellie, pulling me down into my seat.
“Friends,” I say.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Some girls I met the other day. They’re pretty awesome.”
Ellie looks wounded. “Well then, why don’t you just sit with them then?”
I roll my eyes. “What was it you wanted to tell me? You said it was really important.”
“Oh, right!” Ellie glances at Ella. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”
“You tell her,” Ella says.
“Okay, fine.” Ellie leans in like she’s about to give me a secret code to the country’s nuclear weapons. “We fixed things between you and Patrick.”
“What are you talking about? Fixed what things?”
“Tonight. The dance. It’s all set.”
I glance over at Patrick, who’s at his usual table. He smiles. Will, who is sitting right next to him, gives me two thumbs-up and hollers, “Let’s do this!” Patrick smacks Will in the back of the head.
“I don’t understand,” I say to Ellie and Ella. “What’s all set?”
“He wants to take you after all,” Ella says. “He told Ellie this morning. She was upset at first but then she totally got it.”
“We told him you’d love to,” Ellie says. “You and him were meant to be together. It’s fine, and besides, I’m going to go with Will, so we can all hang out together if we want!”
I stare at them in disbelief. “You said yes? For me? Without even asking me?”
“Well, yeah, duh,” Ellie says. “We talked about this, remember? On Monday?”
“Yeah, that was then. This is now.”
“I’m sorry,” Ella says. “Did we do something wrong?”
“A couple of days ago I heard you call me a witch,” I say to Ellie. “And how it made total sense that Patrick wouldn’t want to take me to the dance.”
“I never said that,” Ellie says, a hint of panic in her voice.
“Yes, you did.”
“Well, if I said it, it was just because you were being mean.”
“Being mean? I’d just had my nose practically broken!”
Ellie looks like I just punched her in the nose.
I say the next thing that pops into my head, which surprises everyone, including me. “And anyway, I can’t go with Patrick.”
In the silence that follows, I hear Camille whisper, “This is getting good.”
“Why not?!” shrieks Ellie.
I stand up. “I’m going with someone else.”
And I start walking away.
It feels like a scene in a movie I’ve seen before.
Calista is back in her usual seat. She’s looking over at Patrick. Patrick is smiling at her. Will is acting like an idiot.
“Stop staring,” Jeffrey says. Today he’s eating a tuna fish and onion sandwich. As if he doesn’t have enough trouble making friends.
“I’m not staring,” I say. “It’s happening right in front of me. What am I supposed to do, turn away?”
“Yes,” Jeffrey says. “Laura is looking at you.”
I feel my ears turn red. “She is?”
“Yes.”
I glance over to Laura’s table. Sure enough, she’s watching me watch Calista.
I stand up to walk over to Laura’s table, which is when I see Calista stand up and start walking toward me.
A blast of moisture explodes underneath my arms.
“Callie?” I call, as she goes by me, but she doesn’t slow down.
I get up and follow.
“Don’t,” I hear Rachel say.
I pretend not to hear her.
I get to Damian’s table, but this time, I stay far away from his elbows.
“Your face looks a lot better,” says his friend, whose name I think is Jesse.
“Thanks,” I say. An odd smell crosses my nose. “What kind of sandwich is that?”
Damian’s friend doesn’t answer me. Instead, he just stuffs the rest of whatever it is into his mouth.
I look at Damian. “So, uh, can I see the poster?”
“I’m actually not quite done with it,” he tells me. “I’m finishing it up after school.”
“I thought Patrick said you were done.”
“Almost.”
“Okay.”
After a few seconds, I add, “You can ask me to the dance if you want.”
He blinks ten times in two seconds. “What?”
“You can ask me to the dance,” I repeat. “I’ll go
with you.”
“Why? What happened?”
“My friends are annoying me, that’s what happened,” I say, feeling stressed out. “So, do you want to go with me or not?”
“I—uh—“
“See you tonight?” I say, trying not to get impatient.
“Uh—oh, yeah—okay,” stammers Damian.
I turn around to go back to my table, and bump right into Laura.
All I hear is, “See you tonight?” and “Uh, yeah, okay.” But what I see convinces me it’s not as simple as that.
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask.
“Nothing,” says Damian.
“Damian and I are just going to meet up later at the dance,” Calista says, and starts to walk away.
I feel my heart jump to a higher rate.
“Hold on a second,” Damian says, like a scared little boy.
Calista turns back. “What?”
We both look at Damian, who has suddenly been stripped of the ability to speak.
“He asked me to go to the dance with him this morning,” I tell Calista.
“No way!” blurts out Jeffrey. “Cool!” I can smell his onion breath from where I’m standing, and that’s not a compliment.
I try to sound completely calm. “Damian, if you’d rather go with Calista, you could have just told me.”
“Calista asked me!” Damian says, but he can’t look at me. “I didn’t ask her.”
“Wait a second, Laura, hold on,” Calista says. “You told me you had no interest in Damian!”
Damian starts biting his nails. “You did?”
I realize I’ve lost any moral advantage I might have had, but instead of making me embarrassed, it only makes me mad. “That was yesterday!” I snap at Damian. “Callie was pressuring me to go to the dance with you! It was—it was like we were both charity cases, or something.”
Damian stares at me, then at Calista. “Really? Charity cases?”
“Of course not!” Calista throws her hands up in the air. “I was just trying to be nice! Fine, forget it, forget the whole thing! Maybe I’ll go with Patrick after all! Gorgeous, nice, UNSWEATY PATRICK!”
“Fine!” I say. “And I’ll go with myself!”
We both stomp away in opposite directions, with Calista knocking over Jeffrey’s chocolate milk in the process. “Sorry, Jesse,” she says, without looking back.
“It’s Jeffrey,” Jeffrey says, but no one is listening to him.
I get back to my table, grab my tray, and walk over to Beth’s table. “Can I sit with you guys?”
“Of course,” she says. Shelby and Kara quickly slide over, making room for me.
I sit and start eating. I can feel them all looking at me for a few seconds, then they go back to their conversation. I barely know these girls, but they know enough to do exactly the right thing.
Sometimes the nicest thing people can do is to leave you alone.
As I head back to my seat, I pass Ellie and Ella’s table, and I overhear Ellie say to Ella, “What is with Calista? She got so weird when she was ugly.”
“Wow,” Jeffrey says. “That was intense.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I take a few more bites of my sandwich and then get up, discard my tray, walk down to the art room, pull out the poster, and put it on the easel.
Then I finally finish the painting.
I’m one of the first ones at soccer practice, as usual. I start putting my cleats on when I hear Coach Sweeney let out a little whistle. “Huh,” she says.
I glance up to see Calista walking toward us. She’s dressed and ready to go.
I’m shocked, but not surprised.
“Well,” says Coach. “Look what the cat dragged in. And on time, for once.”
“Hey, Coach,” says Calista. “I’m really sorry I missed the last few days.”
“I heard all about it,” says Coach. “You feeling okay?”
“Yup.” Calista reaches into her bag and pulls out something that looks like the mask from The Phantom of the Opera. She straps it around her face.
“Nice touch, Callie,” I say, without looking at her.
“Thanks,” Calista says, without looking at me.
Neither one of us mentions what happened at lunch. But I’m thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure she is, too.
The rest of the girls start arriving, all doing a double take when they see Calista and her facial contraption. Most people give her an awkward smile and say something like “Glad you’re here” or “Welcome back,” but Rachel gives her a big hug. Calista looks stunned, and then grateful.
“I can’t believe it! I thought you quit!” Rachel says to Calista during stretching, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Well, turns out I didn’t,” Calista says. Then she glances at me and says, “Sometimes I say things I don’t mean.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I say, returning the glance.
“What happened to those friends of yours, Effie and Emma?” Rachel exclaims. “They’re going to be so mad!”
“Effie and Emma?” Calista says.
“You mean Evelyn and Edna,” I say.
Suddenly Calista and I both burst out laughing—and just like that, the tension eases a little bit.
“I was just upset a few days ago,” Calista says to Rachel. “It had nothing to do with you guys or the team or anything. I was just confused. But I want to play soccer and I’m here.”
“Sweet!” Rachel says. “You better score a lot of goals for us this year, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Calista says.
Coach blows her whistle. “Three-on-two shooting drill! Let’s go!”
Practice is intense. As usual, I’m matched up against Calista during the scrimmage. She’s running me ragged. The girl can really play. She gets off a few good shots, but Rachel saves them all, until the last minute, when Calista fakes me out of my shoes, goes around me and puts one into the upper left corner. Rachel can only watch as the ball rockets past her.
“Dang,” Rachel says. “That was nasty.”
Coach Sweeney’s whistle screams. “That’s it!” she hollers. “Bring it in!”
As we all head to the sideline, Calista takes her mask off. Her face is dripping.
“You’re sweating like a pig,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says. “I actually love to sweat. It feels good.”
“Not to Damian it doesn’t,” I say.
Calista stops walking and stares at me.
“Dang it,” she says, and I know just how she feels.
I realize as I walk into the school that I’ve never been there at night before.
None of the concerts; none of the dances; not even the art exhibit at the end of last year, even though Mrs. Henshaw begged me to come. My drawings were there, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t ready.
The lights are bright as Janie pulls into the parking lot. I put my jacket on.
“Have fun, dude,” she says. “Text me when you need me to pick you up.”
“I will,” I tell her. “Be ready.”
She laughs. “Stop it. Come on, have fun. You can do it, I know you can!”
“I’ll try,” I say.
I get out of the car, staring down at my phone. Laura and Calista both texted me earlier, while I was home eating dinner. CAN WE TALK? Laura’s said. Calista’s said I’M REALLY SORRY!
I didn’t answer either one.
I walk into the cafeteria and see the decorations and punch bowls and snacks all set up. I ignore the urge to run away.
“Hey, Damian!” I look up and see Nurse Kline walking over to me. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Hey, Nurse Kline. It’s good to see you, too.”
She smacks me on the arm. “It is not! Don’t you lie to me, Damian White. We’ve been through far too much together.”
“I’m not lying,” I say. “It’s always good to see you.”
“Awww.” She gives me a little hug. “Well, I hope you dance your little heart
out tonight. Hey, I want to see your poster! Where is it?”
“I’m going down to the art room to get it right now, actually,” I tell her.
“Can’t wait!” She gives me a wave as I head down the hall, past the parent volunteers spying on their kids, past the custodians pushing tables up against the wall, past the A/V Club setting up the sound system, past the boys who are laughing and pushing each other against lockers, past the girls who are giggling and running in and out of the bathroom, past the teachers who are mad about having to work at night, and around the corner to where the art studio is. It will be good to be alone for a few minutes, to collect my thoughts and get myself ready for the night ahead.
Only, I’m not alone.
I walk in and see Calista, Laura, and Patrick. They look up and see me. Again, I resist the urge to run away.
It’s harder this time.
After helping move the tables and chairs to the side of the cafeteria, I head down to the art studio, where Laura and I had agreed to meet and wait for Damian.
Patrick wasn’t part of the plan, but when I walk in, there he is, standing with Laura.
She looks up and smiles. He looks up and tries to smile.
“Hey,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to finally see the darn painting,” he says. A few seconds later, he adds, “Uh, Calista? I didn’t mean to cause all that stuff between you and Ellie and Ella. I really didn’t.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m kind of glad it happened, to tell you the truth.”
“Really?” he asks. “Why?”
“Because sometimes you need crazy stuff to happen, so you can remember who your real friends are.”
I throw a look to Laura, and she catches it. It’s a perfect catch.
There’s a noise at the door, and we all look up to see Damian standing there. He sees us and freezes. I can see the sweat forming on his forehead. “What are you guys doing here?” he asks.
For some reason, the first thing that pops into my head is that he’s wearing his red jacket. I thought maybe he’d leave it at home this time.
The Real Us Page 10