by Sarah Dessen
“What is taking you guys so long?” she yelled. “Morgan, don’t lock the damn car.”
“It’s my car,” Morgan said, but not loud enough to be heard. She didn’t notice that Isabel’s window was down.
We walked across the dunes, following Isabel, who, as usual, didn’t wait. As my eyes adjusted I could make out groups sitting along the beach. I watched as Isabel smiled at certain people, a beer now dangling from one hand, the rest of the six-pack tucked under her arm. When we passed them, I saw each time that they were couples: a smiling guy and a girl who scowled at Isabel as she walked on.
Isabel kept on going, then finally dropped the six-pack on a small patch of empty sand. I could see bonfires all up and down the beach.
“Here we are,” she announced, sitting down as Morgan spread out the blanket. “Big social night in Colby.”
“Huge,” Morgan agreed, reaching over and helping herself to a beer. She glanced over my head, squinting, and said, “Hey, isn’t that Norman?”
It was. He was with a group of people sitting around a bonfire. Of course, he was wearing sunglasses: red ones with oval lenses. When he saw us he smiled and waved.
“Okay,” Morgan said in a low voice. “Incoming.”
“What?” I said.
“Shhh.”
Isabel took another sip of beer and threw her shoulders back. Then she acted surprised to see the guy with dark hair and a green plaid shirt who was suddenly standing on our blanket.
“Hey,” he said to her, taking what even I could tell was a quick mandatory glance over at me and Morgan. He had very white teeth. “Wanna sell me a beer?”
Isabel looked at her supply, then back at him. “I don’t know,” she said slowly.
“I promise I’ll drink it here,” he said, leaning down a little closer.
“Gag,” Morgan whispered to me. “Old line.”
“I don’t care where you drink it,” Isabel said simply. “I just don’t know if I want to give one up.”
“I’m worth it,” the guy said.
That made her smile. “Score,” Morgan whispered.
“We’ll see,” she said. And he sat down.
“I’m Frank,” he said.
“Isabel,” she replied. She still hadn’t give him a beer. “That’s Morgan, and that’s Colie.”
“Hi,” he said to us. But he only took his eyes off Isabel for a second.
Morgan sighed, taking another prim sip of beer. Then she looked up at the dark sky and said, “Fireworks should begin soon.”
“Hey, Colie,” Isabel called out. “Come here.”
I got up and went over. She cupped her hand around my ear and said, “Go back to the car and get my other six-pack, will you? It’s under the front seat.”
There was a crackling overhead, and everyone looked up. It was starting.
“Okay,” I said, standing up straight again. But she grabbed my shirttail and pulled me back down.
“Walk with your head up high,” she said quietly, firmly. “Shoulders back. Don’t smile. And don’t look at anyone. You’re gorgeous tonight, Colie. Show yourself off a little. Okay?”
“Whispering’s impolite,” Morgan said from the other side of the blanket.
“She’s going back to the car for me.”
As I walked, I could feel people looking at me. I didn’t have my lip ring or my long coat. I didn’t have my fat or even my tray and apron to hide behind. I had to fight to keep my head up, to not slouch, to shut out everyone around me.
Keep your head up. Shoulders back. Don’t smile.
I could hear myself breathing. I’d always stayed on the perimeter of crowds. But now, as I walked, I slowly gained confidence. There was nothing about me so grotesque or strange that it attracted attention. I blended in.
You’re gorgeous tonight, Colie. Show yourself off a little.
Could it have been this easy all along? Did I just need to lose weight, enlist the help of Revlon, Miss Clairol, and a wicked set of tweezers, and change my life forever?
I couldn’t believe it. If only I’d known, somehow, and found out sooner—
Suddenly someone bumped into me, hard, one of those jarring hits that you feel all the way down to your toes.
I stumbled, catching myself just before I fell completely. And I felt that familiar shame wash over me. I was a big, fat, ugly loser. I didn’t deserve to be pretty. Not even for a second.
“Oh, man,” I heard someone say. And then there was a hand on my arm. “Are you okay? Man.”
I looked up. There was a boy standing beside me—touching me—a cute boy with brown hair and brown eyes, in a white T-shirt and shorts. He had a drink in his hand, now spilled, and he looked worried.
“I’m okay,” I said. And I quickly straightened up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he smiled. “I’m, like, so clumsy.”
“It’s okay.”
He stood there, still smiling at me. This was new.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m Josh.”
“I’m Colie.”
“Hi, Colie.” Overhead, there was the first official bang, and a shower of red sparks falling. Everyone cheered. “You here with your family?”
“No, just some friends,” I said, nodding back toward Morgan and Isabel. I wondered if they were watching.
“Josh!” someone yelled from behind him. “Come on!”
He glanced back, then looked at me again. “I have to go,” he said. “But, uh, maybe I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Okay,” he said. “Cool. And look, I’m sorry. Again.”
“No problem.”
“Josh!” Someone was getting impatient.
“See ya,” he said, and he reached out—quickly—and squeezed my arm. Then he turned and jogged off, glancing back to smile at me.
I waited until he was lost in the crowd before looking back toward our blanket. Morgan watched the sky, but Isabel had her eyes on me. I smiled. She just held up her beer, pointing at it.
Back to business.
I went to the car and got the six-pack. By then the fireworks were in full swing, popping and crackling overhead. The crowd oohed and ahhed. I picked my way through the blankets, trying to spot Morgan and Isabel.
“Colie,” someone said, and I felt a tap on my leg. It was Norman.
“Hey,” I said.
“Sit down,” he said, smoothing some sand for me with the flat of his hand.
“I’m with Morgan and Isabel,” I said, and as I scanned the crowd in front of me I found them again. Frank had his head ducked down, talking earnestly to Isabel, who was half listening and half watching the fireworks. Morgan looked bored.
“Oh,” he said, as there was another boom and shower of sparks overhead. “Okay. Sure.”
We both looked up, watching them fall. Norman said, “You know, it’s weird, but every time I see you, you look different, Colie.”
I glanced down at him. Two boys in one night being nice to me. I could get used to this. “Thanks,” I said. “It’s Isabel. I’m kind of a work in progress.”
“You look great,” he said again. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you . . .”
Just then I saw Josh, walking with a group of guys. He was laughing, and then, somehow, he saw me. And smiled.
“. . . how you’d feel about sitting for a portrait. You know, for my series.” Norman was still talking. I could hear him, but I was still watching Josh, who was watching me. “I’ve got to finish it in the next couple of weeks, and I thought . . .”
“That would be great,” I said. Josh waved. I waved back.
“You think?” Norman said. “ ’Cause I really didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”
“Great,” I said again. Josh and his friends stopped by a bonfire further down the beach. He turned back and gestured for me to come over.
“Okay, great,” Norman said. “When can you start? I mean, you could come down later tonight or something. I make great hot c
hocolate. I have this hot plate. It’s world-known.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, hardly listening; I just knew he was saying something about chocolate. “I should go.”
“Great!” There was another pop and crackle overhead. “I’ll be up late, so just come whenever.”
“Right. I’ll see you later, Norman.”
I picked my way back to our blanket, as the fireworks got louder and louder.
“Finally,” Isabel said when she saw me. “What took you so long?”
“Nothing.” I dropped the six-pack next to her and sat down beside Morgan, who was peeling the label off her beer and yawning. Then I turned and looked back. Josh was still watching me.
“Come on,” he mouthed, waving. His friends, some of them with girls now, were all grouped around the fire, smoking cigarettes and laughing.
“What is that look on your face?” Morgan said. “Colie?”
I stood up. I was ready to walk over there, to a cute boy with brown eyes who I’d met under the falling sparks of an Independence Day.
“Come on,” Josh said.
This was where it started.
“I’m going to go,” I said out loud, and Morgan looked up at me. “I—”
Then I saw her. Caroline Dawes. She stepped out from behind one of Josh’s friends, turning her head to look in my direction. And she saw me, her nose instantly wrinkling in distaste, as if she’d smelled something bad.
“Come on,” Josh said again, waving me over, insistent now. There was another burst of color and light over my head.
But I froze, my eyes on Caroline, who looked from me to Josh and then to me again. She reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around. And then she said something.
“Colie?” Morgan said. “What is it?”
It was happening again. No matter what I did, or how the world changed for me, all it took was Caroline Dawes to ruin everything.
Then I heard Isabel.
“Colie,” she said, and her voice was very clear through the noise swirling around us. “Go.”
“I can’t,” I said. I knew then that she had seen Josh bump into me and everything else. And she’d recognized Caroline Dawes when she stepped out from beside that fire and showed herself.
“Go,” she said again. And she nodded her head towards Josh. “Now. Do it.”
“What is going on?” Morgan said. “What are you guys talking about?”
But Isabel just watched me. And I remembered all the times I’d let Caroline Dawes ruin my life. That first dance, and the boy who’d imitated me. And, finally, I thought of my mother, standing before thousands of caterpillars, believing them into butterflies.
“Go,” Isabel said again. I could tell by her voice, by the way she looked at me, that she knew I would.
And somehow, I stood up and I went.
It was like I was dreaming as I walked across the sand, past all of the upturned faces, the sky coloring over them.
Josh was waiting for me by the bonfire. Caroline stood off to one side, her arms crossed over her chest. She was laughing.
The fireworks were reaching their peak now. I could hear “The Star-Spangled Banner,” its tinkly notes rising and falling with each boom and crash. In the midst of all of the noise and color, I told myself I had to look at Caroline Dawes. Every other time she’d been mean I’d let her words just sink down over me, like a blanket shaken out by the corners. But this was going to be different. Whatever she said to me, I would take head-on.
I remembered Isabel, the day she’d taken me home and begun to set me straight. And I saw her tap her temple with one finger, her face close to mine, saying: Believe in yourself up here and it will make you stronger than you could ever imagine.
And my mother’s words: Being self-confident doesn’t necessarily start inside. It starts with the rest of the world, and leads back to you.
Then, with one huge, spectacular explosion, the fireworks were over. And the crowd cheered and clapped, whistling with appreciation.
I stood up straight, put my shoulders back, and looked at Caroline Dawes.
This seemed to throw her. I looked at her hard, focusing on the white and brown of her eyes. They were just normal, nothing more. She didn’t look away, but I didn’t expect her to. We stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time as everyone started to pack up and walk to their cars. The show was over.
“Hey,” I heard Josh say. He took a few steps toward me. “What took you so long?”
“I can’t believe you,” Caroline said to me in her snarky voice. She was really too pretty a girl to be so ugly. “You don’t belong here.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Just being there was enough, for now.
“She’s a slut,” she told Josh, and I watched how her mouth twisted with the words. “Everyone knows it at home.”
And Josh glanced at her, then at me. I suddenly realized I didn’t care whether he believed her or not. I didn’t care what happened next. I had faced the enemy. The rest of the battle was just details.
“You’re pathetic,” she said to me, and started to turn away.
“And you’re such a bitch,” I said back. And I laughed, surprised at how my voice sounded, strong and steady. “I feel sorry for you, Caroline.”
“I hate you,” she snapped.
“You should get over that,” I told her. And I imagined Isabel, eyes closed, saying these same words. “It’s unhealthy. Just let it go.”
Her mouth fell open.
I felt someone beside me. “Come on,” Isabel said, closing her fingers over mine. “We’re going.” Caroline looked at her, the way pretty girls do at girls who are much prettier.
“Okay,” I said, and I smiled at her. We started to walk off but Josh ran after us.
“Colie,” he said, and beyond him I could see Caroline still watching, her friends all around her. She was talking angrily, the words spewing out. I didn’t have to wonder what she was saying about me. I’d heard it all before.
“Yeah?”
“I, um, I’m sorry about my cousin,” he said. “We’re leaving tomorrow night, but maybe I can call you or something?”
Beside me, Isabel shuffled her feet in the sand. I could see Morgan crossing the dunes, the blanket folded neatly in her arms.
“I work at the Last Chance,” I told him, as Isabel tugged me away. “You can find me there.”
“I,” Morgan said as we bumped down the dirt road toward home, “have no idea what happened tonight.”
“I’ll tell you everything later,” Isabel said to her, patting her knee. “But it was very, very cool.”
When we pulled into the driveway, the headlights lit up the front porch, where a man was sitting on the steps. He stood up and squinted at us.
“Oh,” Morgan said, one hand flying up to her mouth.
“Oh,” Isabel groaned. “Great.”
“Mark!” Morgan shrieked, hardly even pausing to stop the car before she got out and ran across the grass, up the steps and into his arms. We were rolling toward the beach until Isabel reached down and yanked up the e-brake. “I thought you were back in Durham tonight.”
“Plans changed,” he said. “I wanted to surprise you.”
We watched from the car as they kissed, a movie-style kiss that lasted for a long time.
“Great,” Isabel grumbled. “Now where am I supposed to go?”
“Come over to Mira’s.”
“Nah. I think I’ll just take Frank up on that clambake on the sound side. I can walk from here.” She got out of the car and held the seat for me, then reached down and salvaged the last of her beers, tucking one in each pocket of her shorts.
“Hey, Isabel,” Mark called to her through the dark.
“What’s up, Mark,” she replied tonelessly.
“I want you to meet Colie,” Morgan said, taking him by the hand, leading him down the steps and over to me. As he got closer, I saw he looked just like his picture. Not everyone does. He was tal
l and tan, very athletic, with short black hair and white teeth that seemed to glow in the dark. “Colie, this is Mark. Mark, this is Colie.”
“Hi,” he said. “Morgan’s told me a lot about you.”
“I’m going,” Isabel announced. She was already halfway down the driveway.
“Where?” Morgan called after her, but Isabel didn’t answer.
“Some clambake,” I explained. “With that guy she met at the fireworks.”
“So that’s where you were,” Mark said, slipping his arm around Morgan’s waist. She had the goofiest smile on her face. “I missed everything.”
“No you didn’t,” she said suddenly. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a box, then opened it and shook something out into her hand. “Got a match?”
Mark handed her a lighter and she flicked it, then held the long object toward the flame, stepping back as it erupted into a shower of sparks between us.
“The sparklers,” I said. I’d forgotten all about them.
“Happy Fourth of July,” she said to Mark, and he kissed her.
I started toward Mira’s, wanting some time alone to savor everything that had happened, from the Chick Night to my triumph over Caroline Dawes.
“Colie, stay and light these with us,” Morgan called after me.
“I should go,” I said.
“Okay. But here. Catch.”
And she threw the sparklers at me, the box turning end over end in the air before I caught it in both hands. “Happy Fourth of July,” I said, but they didn’t hear me.
I closed the door carefully, then slid my hand into my pocket and retrieved my lip ring, carefully securing it back in its proper place. I took off my shoes and tiptoed down the hallway; I didn’t know how late it was, but I didn’t want to wake Mira.
I shouldn’t have worried. Before I’d taken two steps, I heard her voice.
“Hey there.” She was sitting in her chair, a disassembled telephone in her lap. I recognized it: it was the one from the upstairs hallway, which had a VERY QUIET RING. “How were the fireworks?”
“Good,” I said. I walked over and sat down beside her. The entire house was dark, except for the light over her shoulder, illuminating the parts strewn across the table. Behind the house, over the water, someone was continuing their celebration, the snaps and cracks loud in the dark.