PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black

by Lisa Greenwald

  “I see,” Grandma says, looking at me for a second and then back at the road in front of her. “Well, that’s why you’re not marrying these boys. You have time to find someone who’s just the right amount of boring.”

  “You mean everyone’s boring?” My face crumples. What a depressing thought.

  “In their own way. You’ll see. It’s not always a bad thing.”

  I usually believe Grandma, since she’s old and wise and she’s been through so much. But right now I don’t want to believe her. I can’t believe her. Yamir’s not boring, and maybe in eighth grade that’s really all that matters.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Do for others.

  All throughout school the next day, Erica keeps bringing up the fancy meeting. That’s what she calls it. “I can’t wait for the fancy meeting, Lucy,” she says after math. “Penelope is so cool to schedule such a fancy meeting,” she says before lunch.

  I keep shushing her, because I don’t want the AGE girls to hear and feel left out. I mean, they haven’t been that involved in the planning for the Masquerade, but still. It’s not nice to keep talking about something in front of other people when you know they’re not included. It’s purposefully mean, even.

  “Okay, okay, Lucy.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Calm down.”

  She should not be telling me to calm down, when we’re talking about my meeting and she’s the one who’s overexcited, but I let it go. I need her on my side. Meanwhile, the AGE girls are still stressing about the date situation. Eve thinks she’s going to bring this boy from Madison who went to camp with her, and I tell her that’s crazy. It’s not that big of a deal to have a date.

  “Not everyone feels that way,” she tells me over and over again.

  Mrs. Deleccio finds me after lunch, even though I’ve been trying to avoid her.

  “I’m so sorry. I dropped the ball on the composting,” I admit. “I’ve just been so busy.”

  “It’s okay, Lucy.” She smiles like it really is okay, but I still feel guilty. I tell her I’m going to try to work on it. Maybe after the Masquerade is over.

  “We appreciate all your hard work,” she says, and gently pats my arm.

  I should never have suggested it.

  Finally the end of the day rolls around, and it’s almost time for our meeting. Sunny and I get there first. Penelope has rearranged her whole office so there’s a table for food and another table for drinks and a small circle of chairs to the side.

  “How does it look?” she asks us.

  “Perfect,” I tell her.

  There are finger sandwiches, fruit kabobs, and mini quiches on the food table. The drinks table is overflowing with mini bottles of sparkling water, a pitcher of bubbly pink lemonade, and a fancy water jug with strawberries and pineapple in it.

  Erica and Zoe arrive a few minutes later. Erica’s wearing a chunky gray sweater dress with red tights and shiny black ballet flats. She looks like she’s going to the opera. Zoe’s just wearing jeans, but her fancy designer ones with a tiny little hole above the right knee. And she has on a cream cashmere sweater that hits at the perfect spot on her hips.

  “You guys look great,” Penelope says. “Please get some food and drink and come sit.”

  “This is like a wedding!” Erica exclaims. “Mini quiche? Amazing!”

  I wink at Penelope, even though I’m not so good at winking.

  “So, ladies, we’re getting very excited about the big event. I’ve discussed it with Doris and Jane, and we’d love to offer all the students a special Pink and Green goody bag after their makeup appointment. We’ll put in some lotions and cleansers, maybe a special aromatherapy candle?”

  “That’s incredible,” Zoe squeals. “Everyone is going to flip!”

  I see what Penelope’s doing—buttering them up. And it’s working!

  “And have you considered a theme for the dance?” Penelope asks. “I was the president of my sorority in college, so believe me, I’ve planned many, many dances in my day. The theme is always key.”

  Zoe and Erica look at each other, and then they look at Sunny and me. We’re all sitting here staring at one another. It’s actually kind of funny.

  “Maybe something low-key but cool. Since we live near the ocean, what about ‘Under the Sea’?” I suggest.

  “Yeah, that’s cool, but kind of overdone,” Erica says.

  “Or maybe black-and-white movies,” Zoe suggests. “Like, we can have each table be an old movie, and then everyone can wear black or white.”

  Sunny jumps in. “Well, don’t forget that people are going to come in costumes. So the theme is the Masquerade. We already have a theme, kind of.”

  “True, true.” Penelope nods. I wonder if she really cares about the theme, or if she’s just trying to get everyone talking and then she’s going to bring up the date thing.

  “Well, here’s an idea,” Erica says, and I immediately get scared. My heart pounds every time that girl is about to speak—Erica’s ideas tend to be dangerous. “Since Pink and Green is doing so much to make this event awesome, what if the theme were a little bit about Pink and Green?”

  We all stare at Erica as she talks. Penelope’s sitting back in her rolling chair all calm and collected, almost like she knew something like this would happen. Sunny’s mouth is hanging open. I know exactly how she feels.

  “Go on,” Penelope says, scribbling some notes in her Pink & Green spiral notebook.

  Erica smiles, seeming pleased that she has the floor. “It wouldn’t be anything too crazy. Just a little bit of Pink and Green branding. Like, people need to wear pink or green, or incorporate it into their costumes.”

  “Yeah,” Sunny jumps in again. “And we can take the green to the next level: the dance should be environmentally friendly. The cafeteria and pretty much the whole school are green. So the dance has to be too!”

  “Oh, totally,” Zoe says, clearly feeling like she has to say something.

  “I got it.” Erica leans back in her chair. “You ready?”

  We all nod. Penelope takes a sip of her sparkling water. This level of suspense should probably be reserved for a presidential election.

  Erica takes a deep breath. “Eighth-Grade Masquerade: Pink and Green Is the New Black.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I shout. “That is unbelievable!”

  “Unbelievable good or unbelievable bad?” Erica asks, and I swear that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her be uncertain.

  “Unbelievable good,” I say. I don’t say that it’s even more unbelievable because Erica’s the one saying it, and that Erica’s the one bringing up the branding thing in the first place.

  “Do you get it?” Erica asks. “Because, like, people always wear black to fancy events. And we’re shaking things up!”

  “Wonderful! I love what’s happening here,” Penelope tells us. “This event is going to be amazing in every way.”

  Soon everyone is silent, like there isn’t anything else to talk about. I start to get worried. Did Penelope forget the purpose of the meeting?

  “I have to say one more thing,” Penelope says. “And I know it’s going to seem a little out of left field. But from my experience, these events work better when everyone goes as friends.”

  Zoe cocks her head at Penelope. “We’re all friends.”

  “I mean, no dates. It turns people away if they feel like they have to find a partner.” She pauses and takes a bite of her finger sandwich. “Think about it this way: you want as many people to come as possible, right?”

  We nod.

  “Well, I’m sure there are kids who won’t have dates, and they’ll just decide to stay home,” Penelope continues. “And you guys want 100 percent attendance. I mean, of course there’s going to be someone sick or someone out of town or someone with family plans. But you want to aim for 100 percent.”

  “But we want dates,” Erica whines. “We want it to feel like a mature event.”

  “I know,” P
enelope says. “But mature with low attendance or a little less mature with high attendance?” She pauses. “Think about it.”

  “I don’t know,” Zoe says. “I mean, Gavin and I are really excited about going together. It’s kind of a big deal for us.”

  Penelope nods, tight-lipped.

  “And what about Elias?” Erica says. “I mean, I have a high school boyfriend. If we don’t have dates, why would he even come? He won’t. And then this whole thing will have been pointless.”

  “What whole thing?” Sunny asks, genuinely confused. “You’re having fun together, right? You have a boyfriend who’s in high school. That’s cool.”

  “Not enough.” Erica folds her arms across her chest. “I want dates to the dance. And I’m in charge of this event. No one else wanted to do it, so I am in charge.”

  I look at Sunny and she looks at me. Penelope studies Erica carefully but doesn’t say anything.

  I don’t know what to say.

  “This is just because Yamir doesn’t like you anymore,” Erica says to me, and it stings worse than anything she’s said in the past. “So since you don’t have a date, you don’t want anyone to have a date.”

  I mutter, “That’s not true,” but then I start to wonder: what if it is? I don’t think it is. But maybe some deep-down part of me does feel that way.

  “It is true.” Erica shoots eye daggers at me.

  “It isn’t, because I have Travis, remember?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “He could be my date if I wanted one.”

  “You don’t like him. Everyone knows it. Probably even Travis.”

  So now Erica and I are having this battle in front of Zoe, Sunny, and Penelope, and I don’t know what to do.

  “Erica, please,” I say. “Look, I know this is a change, but at least give it some thought. Take a few days to think about it. And consider everyone else in the grade. We want them to have good memories of their Eighth-Grade Masquerade.”

  “Fine. I’ll give it some thought,” she says, mocking me. She looks down at her plate. “I’m going to have another mini quiche.”

  Soon Zoe’s mom comes to pick up her and Erica, and Sunny and I stay for a few more minutes to talk to Penelope.

  “Well, it was worth a shot,” Penelope says.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “It’s going to be wonderful no matter what. I promise.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “And listen, what you’re trying to do is really sweet, but you can’t always control everything. Some people will have dates and some people won’t. It’s the way life works. And you can’t make everyone happy all the time.”

  “I know.” I manage to squeak out a smile. “Thanks for everything.”

  Sunny and I walk to the back office to meet my mom, who’s going to drive us home. It feels like a million years ago that I sat in here and opened the mail and stressed about the pharmacy staying in business.

  I guess old worries just make way for new worries. And there’s not much you can do about that.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Admit when you’ve taken on too much.

  Erica doesn’t talk to me for a whole week. She still sits at our lunch table, but we don’t speak. Zoe smiles at me, but that’s it. I think they feel like I was trying to ruin their lives or something. Like I was trying to convince them to become nuns. It’s a little over the top.

  But that’s not the worst part. I had a meeting with Mrs. Deleccio about the composting project, and I had to tell her I totally failed and couldn’t take it on anymore. I was in over my head trying to sort out all the information, and I couldn’t find time to do it. Between homework, planning for the Masquerade, and trying to sleep at night—not to mention worrying about Yamir and Travis (and I didn’t mention that to her!)—I just couldn’t handle anything else.

  It felt awful to admit it, knowing I was letting her down. She seemed disappointed. And that’s the opposite of how I wanted to end my time at Old Mill Middle School, with teachers disappointed in me and projects left undone.

  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, while I was meeting with Mrs. Deleccio, Erica spilled the beans. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly what happened. But Sunny was there. And she told me.

  Apparently it went something like this:

  Erica told everyone that I had lied about Yamir, that things hadn’t been good for a while, that he didn’t want to be with me, and that we had basically broken up. And then she told everyone at the table that I don’t even like Travis, but I’m just desperate to have someone, so I’m leading him on.

  And now the AGE girls just stare at me all awkward when they see me. Like my cat was run over and they don’t know what to say. I tell myself that only our table knows all of this—but that’s probably not true. The whole grade probably knows by now.

  Sunny hasn’t mentioned the Yamir thing in a long time, and it almost seems like she’s forgotten about it. I want to ask her about it, because I still think about him way too much.

  I don’t bring it up, though. Maybe Sunny doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he really is with that Sienna girl now, and Sunny doesn’t want to tell me.

  Who knows.

  One thing is for sure: I want to end things with Travis. Dates or no dates for the Masquerade, he’s not for me. I know that now. I gave him a chance. And we kissed a few times. And we hung out a bunch one-on-one: the movies, after school at his house, even a night trip to the beach. Grandma would have never allowed it, but I didn’t tell her. And it was dark and kind of cold, and he brought a blanket. And it seemed like it would be so romantic and amazing—the kind of night I thought I’d remember forever. But then when we got there, it was just so boring. There was nothing to talk about. I tried and tried, but every topic felt stale. And I kept thinking about how much more amazing the night would have been if I had been there with Yamir.

  The Masquerade is in a little less than two weeks, and there’s still so much to do. But since Erica’s not talking to me, I don’t get to do any of it. The spa staff handles all the makeover appointments, Erica and Zoe are dealing with decorations, and Annabelle and Sunny are making posters advertising our theme.

  I’m at my locker putting books away after school when Travis comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, all boyfriendy.

  So I guess he hasn’t heard Erica’s little tirade. Maybe she really only told our table. At least that’s something.

  “Oh, hi!” I try to sound cheery, but really I’m annoyed. His arms around my shoulders is way too much PDA for me. Maybe things were different in his old school, but here people don’t hang on each other much in the halls.

  “You want to come over after school? It’s such a gloomy day. We can hang in the planetarium?”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun, but I can’t,” I tell him. “I have to study for that social studies test. I’ve barely even looked at my notes.”

  “We have a whole week to study,” he reminds me. “Come on. It’ll be so cozy. I’ll make popcorn. We’ll turn the sound effects really loud.”

  “I’m sorry, Travis. I really can’t.”

  “My mom won’t be home . . .” He lets his voice trail off, and then I’m even more annoyed. I don’t know how Travis started out as the nicest boy in the world and then turned into this.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Travis.” I turn away from him. “I have to go.”

  That night, I call Sunny and tell her everything. It’s late and I’m under the covers and I’m not supposed to be on the phone, but I feel trapped in my thoughts. I need to talk with Sunny.

  “Have you been feeling like this for a while?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “And I didn’t know if I could talk to you. You’ve been busy with the Masquerade and with Evan. And anyway, I think you’re still mad at me.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “About Yamir,” I say softly. Thoughts of Yamir eat away at me like mosquitoes on a hot summer night.

  “Oh, Luce. Come on. It was
a thing and now it’s not a thing. And you’re my best friend. I forgot about it.”

  I don’t know if that’s good or bad. If she forgot about it, it means it’s really over. Too over to ever be a thing again, probably. Like when people try to bring up private jokes from elementary school that no one even remembers anymore.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not mad,” I say.

  “So you never liked Travis?” she asks, changing the topic slightly.

  “I mean, I wanted to give him a chance.” I flip over onto my back. “And then I might have liked him for a day. He really tries, and it’s sweet. But coming from him, it also weirds me out.”

  Sunny never tells me romantic stuff about Evan. I know they’ve kissed, and that’s it. She never goes into detail about it. She’s private, and I don’t push her.

  “Maybe he’s changed since he first moved here,” Sunny says. “Or maybe you have.”

  “Maybe.”

  Grandma knocks on my door. “Lucy, it’s nearly eleven. Off the phone.”

  “Okay,” I yell through the door.

  “I gotta go in a sec,” I whisper. “Anyway, I need to break up with him. Is that mean, since the dance is so soon?”

  “Is being nice your main concern? Or is being honest your main concern?”

  I wait for a second to reply. “That’s a good question.”

  “And it looks like people are going to have dates for the dance. So do you want to go without a date?” Sunny asks.

  “You’re asking such hard questions!” I laugh, but really I want to cry. I don’t know how things became so complicated and scary.

  “Just think about it,” she says. “That’s all. Anyway, I gotta go too.”

  “Bye, Sun. See you tomorrow.”

  I lie awake most of the night. I don’t want to be with Travis. I don’t want to go to the dance with him. But I also feel like it’s cruel to leave him without a date. But maybe he’d find someone else. I toss and turn all night long. As the minutes tick by, I get more and more nervous.