“Oh. He never checks voice mail.” Sunny shakes her head. She hops off my bed and goes to grab her bag off my window seat. When she gets back, she hands me her phone. “Call him.”
“Now?”
He answers on the first ring, and I feel a little silly calling Sunny’s boyfriend when she’s sitting right here.
“Lucy!” He pauses and crunches some chips or pretzels or something. “I’m so glad you called again. I have to tell you about this thing I saw in the Berkshires.”
“Yeah? Tell!”
He starts by telling me about a crafts fair he went to with his grandma and how one booth had a table of all these old medicine bottles. “It seems like the same thing you found in the basement of the pharmacy. But people would come up with questions or advice they needed. Like, one person wrote, ‘How will I survive winter?’ and then another person answered with ‘Stand in direct sunlight, even when it’s cold.’”
“Cool, but I don’t really get it,” I say.
He explains how the questions were taped to the bottles, and people wrote advice on little slips of paper and put them inside the bottles.
“Sometimes it was a little hard to see the answers, so you’d have to shake the bottle a little,” he says. “It was just a cool, crafty kind of thing. It seems like something you’d love. And then Sunny mentioned the bottles you found. And I thought it could be a good addition to the Masquerade.”
“Oh!” I yelp, and Sunny startles. “I love that! We can have an advice booth. I can bring all the bottles from the pharmacy!”
“Exactly!”
Evan and I hang up, and I’m overcome with appreciation. Evan thought of this amazing idea, and it incorporates something from Old Mill Pharmacy. And all because Sunny remembered the medicine bottles.
“So what should we do for our costumes, though?” Sunny asks me after we’ve stopped discussing the medicine bottle idea.
“The Pink Ladies!” I exclaim. “From Grease!”
“Yeah?” Sunny doesn’t seem thrilled.
“I mean, it fits the whole pink theme so well! And we love Grease. We know all the songs by heart.” I pause to let it sink in. “It’ll be like a tribute to our friendship.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .” Sunny smiles. “But we might need more than just the two of us to really pull it off. And is it too similar to the ‘Shoop Shoop girls’?”
“It’s similar in that we can hang out with them and it’ll be cool. But not too similar, like we stole their idea,” I say, and then something occurs to me. “We should ask Zoe and Erica if they want to do it too.”
“Do you have the flu? You’re asking Erica Crane to dress up with us?”
I plop down on the bed next to her. “Things have changed, Sun. We’re almost in high school. Erica even sits at our lunch table now. She’ll never be nice, but she’ll always be here, so there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Wait.” Sunny furiously hits my knee. “Isn’t Zoe’s mom some kind of fashion consultant? I bet she’d be able to find us the most amazing costumes ever.”
“Yes!” I high-five her.
We set up a second-floor-bathroom meeting with Erica and Zoe for the next morning. I hope that they’re into this idea. It’ll be awesome to have Zoe in our group, because I know her mom will make sure we have the most amazing costumes in the grade. But it’s not only that. After all we’ve been through, it makes sense for us to be in a group with Erica and Zoe. It will symbolize a changing of the times, a new order of things.
We’re growing up. We’re nicer to each other now. Just because we spent the past seven years as enemies doesn’t mean we can’t spend the next four years as sort-of friends.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Always aim to be inclusive.
“So this is our idea,” I tell Zoe and Erica in the second-floor bathroom the next morning. “Making sure we stay in line with Erica’s awesome idea for the Pink and Green theme of the Masquerade, I think we should be the Pink Ladies.”
“What?” Erica asks. I can tell she’s in a bad mood. She still has her sunglasses on.
“Like from Grease,” Sunny explains. “Lucy and I have been obsessed with Grease since, like, second grade, when my mom kind of didn’t want us to watch it.”
“Why not?” Erica asks.
“That doesn’t really matter now,” Sunny says. “But the costumes for the Pink Ladies are great. We’ll obviously be very pink. And we can get fabulous fifties makeup to go along with it.”
“I like it,” Zoe says, looking to Erica for approval. I bet every night, Zoe has to text Erica a picture of the outfit she plans to wear the next day. Or maybe they just video-chat the night before.
“It sounds okay,” Erica says. “Honestly, I don’t really even care anymore. This whole thing has been exhausting.”
“So it’s a yes?” I yelp. “Yay! This is gonna be awesome!”
We all ignore Erica’s negative attitude and move forward with our plans. I bring up how we could shop for costumes online or at thrift stores, and then Zoe says, “No, no. no. My mom has, like, fifty closets full of clothes she’s used for shoots and stuff. We’ll look there. And if not, she can call one of her people. They’ll hook us up.”
“That is so amazing,” Sunny says. “Thank you!”
“Yup. Trust me. We’re gonna look fabulous.”
Erica groans, “Whatever,” and we all leave the bathroom.
We have about a week to get the costumes in order, but that seems like enough time. It’s all coming together.
When I get home from school, Yamir is sitting on my front porch. At first I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But no, he’s really there. He’s wearing his big navy winter coat. He has his hood up and his gloves on, but he still looks like he’s freezing. Who knows how long he’s been out here. Mom and Grandma are at the pharmacy late these days, taking care of the new shipments and hiring a few backup pharmacists so they can take more time off.
“I thought you’d never come home,” he says as soon as he sees me.
I look at my watch. “School just got out twenty minutes ago. I got a ride home from Zoe’s mom, so that’s why I’m here so early.”
“Oh. I forgot. High school ends at 2:26.”
“That’s a very exact time.” I sit down on the rocking chair next to him.
“Aren’t you wondering why I’m here?” He looks at me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I still don’t believe he’s really here, sitting on my porch, sitting next to me.
I nod.
“What happened with us, Luce-Juice?” he asks in the softest, sweetest voice I’ve ever heard him use.
“You really need to ask that?” I finally look at him.
“Yeah.”
Are boys born with only half the brain that girls are born with? Does it grow over time? I don’t understand how he doesn’t get it.
“Yamir, you ignored me for weeks.”
“I was busy.”
“So then tell me you’re busy,” I say, as matter-of-fact as can be. “Don’t just ignore me.”
“It seems like the kind of thing you’d figure out. Like, why would I just ignore you for no reason?”
“I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”
“Why would I just stop liking you?” he looks at me again and I look at him, and I think he has been genuinely confused this whole time. “You’re Lucy.”
“I know who I am.” I didn’t mean for that to come out rude, but I’m not sure what to say. He needs to know it’s not cool to just ignore someone. And then it dawns on me. What if I’m doing that same exact thing with Travis? Ignoring him until he gets tired of it? I need to make sure I’m not.
“Well, I still think about you,” he says. “I mean, I’ve been sitting out here freezing for forty-five minutes.”
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“I still think about you a lot.” He inches his rocking chair
closer to mine and nudges me with his shoulder.
“That’s good to know. But I think I also deserve an apology.” He can’t go around thinking he can behave any way he wants and that I’ll always just be here waiting. I wouldn’t be able to respect myself if I acted like that.
“I deserve an apology too,” he says. “You and that Travis kid? Come on.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t what me. You were totally spending time with him, when I thought we were still together.”
“How can we be together if we don’t talk for weeks and weeks?” I huff. This is exhausting.
“We’re going around in circles, Luce-Juice.” He smiles a little, but I don’t. I don’t find any of this funny.
“Well, we obviously disagree. So let’s just talk about it another time.” I stand up. “You can come in if you need to warm up.”
“That’s okay,” he says to my back. “I’ll just see you around.”
I go inside and replay that conversation over and over in my head. It’s good to know he thinks about me, but until he realizes what he did wrong, we can never work.
I used to think that Yamir could read my mind and know exactly how I was feeling. But maybe I shouldn’t expect that. Clearly he’s not getting it. Maybe one day he will. But for now, I need to accept that Lucy and Yamir are two individual people, doing our own things, apart from each other.
It doesn’t matter what we used to be. We aren’t that way anymore.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Be appreciative when others do for you.
With only two days to go until the Masquerade, Sunny and I go to Zoe’s house to try on our costumes. In a way it feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this, and in another way it feels like it just snuck up on me.
“So, you girls like the costumes?” Zoe’s mom asks. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a button-down shirt. I bet she was a model back in the day.
“Oh yeah. Amazing,” I answer. “How did you pull this off so quickly?”
“Let’s just say I have connections.” She winks.
We all have the signature pink jackets with the words “Pink Ladies” written on the back. We’ll wear black leggings underneath, with a black T-shirt, and we’ll get our hair and makeup done to match the girls in Grease.
“We look so awesome,” Erica says. “I can’t even believe it!”
“I can believe it!” I shriek. “We’re hot.”
Everyone bursts out laughing, and it feels like we’re in some kind of alternate universe. Sunny and I having fun with Erica Crane—how did we get here? I don’t even know.
We’re parading in front of Zoe’s full-length mirror with our Pink Ladies jackets on when Zoe’s phone starts ringing, to the melody of a Taylor Swift song.
“Who is it?” Erica asks. She always needs to know who’s calling, even when it’s not her phone. It’s kind of an obsession.
“Gavin,” Zoe says. “Hey, Gav,” she says into the phone. “What’s up?”
Gav? Is she for real?
Erica huffs and walks into Zoe’s bathroom and closes the door. I guess she’s annoyed that Zoe has a boyfriend and she doesn’t. Who knows. I can’t dwell on it. We have the costumes we wanted, and we already agreed that no one is bringing a date. All I need is for things to go smoothly at the spa on the day of the event, and I’ll be happy.
Well, as happy as I can be without Yamir.
“Just trying on our costumes,” Zoe says. “Me, Erica, Lucy, and Sunny.”
Zoe looks at me and then turns away. “Yeah, Lucy’s here.”
Uh-oh. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, but I don’t like the sound of it.
“Sure, yeah. Come over. We’ll order pizza or something.”
Oh no. Now I know I don’t like the sound of it.
“Yeah, bring Evan too.” She pauses. “He does? Oh, fab. She’ll be so psyched.”
Zoe hangs up, and all I can think about is finding some kind of escape route out of here.
“Sunny,” I whisper while Zoe goes to get Erica out of her bathroom. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No. Evan said he had to help his mom clean out the basement.” She shrugs. “But don’t worry. We’ll just hang out in a group.”
Sunny’s looking at her phone, not paying attention to me.
Erica and Zoe come out of the bathroom. Erica’s been crying and she smells like Zoe’s fancy perfume. I’m not sure the two things go together, but at least she smells nice.
“You’re never going to believe this,” Erica says.
Sunny and I look up.
“Hunter Adelson is coming over here. Right now.”
“What?” I ask. Hunter’s one of those boys in our grade who everyone has a secret crush on. He’s always been nice and cute and smart. He’s like the perfect boy, basically, but he never goes out with anyone. He just does his own thing.
“You heard me,” Erica says. “He’s been hanging out with Gavin. And he’s coming here now. Zoe says he likes me.”
“Really?” I ask, trying to hide the shock in my voice. Clearly this is bad news. Now is not the time for anyone to like Erica. She’ll try to revoke our no-dates plan. And Hunter Adelson? He can’t really like Erica. Has he lost his mind? I mean, she’s nicer now, sure, but she’s not that nice.
“Yup,” Zoe says. “Lucy, come into my bathroom. I need to show you this blush.”
Something seriously weird is going on, but I follow Zoe into the bathroom. She closes the door, and I feel bad that Sunny’s left in Zoe’s room alone with Erica.
“Okay, so Hunter doesn’t really like like Erica. I mean, he doesn’t dislike her. But the thing is, she’s been so down. And all the other boys are coming over. You, me, and Sunny have boyfriends, and she doesn’t. So Gavin said he’d bring Hunter, and I may have just told a white lie. But shh. We’re all just gonna hang out together anyway. What difference does it make?”
We hear Sunny yell, “What’s going on in there?” and I know that this day is going to deteriorate fast. First, I need to make sure Travis knows he’s not my boyfriend. Second, I’m scared about what Erica’s going to do to Hunter Adelson. Or to Zoe, when she figures out that Zoe made up the whole thing.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Do you understand?” Zoe puts her hands on my shoulders, looking serious and kind of scary. “Just go with it, okay?”
I almost tell her that I pretty much broke up with Travis the other day, but then Erica starts complaining about her outfit and how she needs to borrow a skirt of Zoe’s, and Zoe gets all panicked and we leave the bathroom.
Things are going to be fine. I tell myself that over and over again. I wish all of this wasn’t happening two days before the Masquerade, but it is, and I can deal with it.
Zoe’s mom knocks on the door. “Zo, I have to run out and take care of a few things. You okay here? Dad should be home by seven.”
“Oh yeah.” Zoe smiles. “We’re fine.” She doesn’t mention the group of four boys that’s on the way here right now. Does her mom know? For some reason this secrecy makes me even more nervous.
When her mom leaves, Zoe closes the door and whispers, “I’m so glad you didn’t say anything about the boys. My mom’s cool, but not about stuff like that. She’d freak out if she knew they were all coming over. But I knew she was going out. And my dad always gets home late.”
So clearly I had reason to be nervous.
Breathe, Lucy. Breathe. Travis was cool with everything. He didn’t seem fazed or upset about it. So I have no idea why I’m freaking out right now.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Realize that even the worst times end eventually.
The boys arrive, and at first everything is fine. We go into Zoe’s den and put on some old cartoon, and we’re all just sitting on the couches hanging out and talking. Zoe brings in some soda and pita chips and hummus, and I start to calm down.
Everything is going to be fi
ne.
But then, things change.
Sunny and Evan decide to “go for a walk,” even though it’s thirty degrees outside. Clearly they’re not walking very far, probably just upstairs to the computer room to be alone. Sunny and Evan have been together so long that no one really pays attention to them. They’re kind of like an old married couple, but a happy one.
Then Zoe tells Gavin she wants to show him the new giant TV in her basement, and they go downstairs. Now, all of this is pretty innocent. It’s not like we’re in some kind of cheesy high school movie where crazy stuff happens. It’s just that everyone is disappearing to be alone with someone else—and I don’t like it.
So then it’s just Hunter, Erica, Travis, and me watching the cartoon and eating the pita chips. And it starts to get awkward. Erica keeps flipping her hair all around, and it’s making me dizzy. It looks like it’s making Hunter dizzy too, because he keeps squinting and backing away from her on the couch.
“Hunter, are you still really into the violin?” I ask. It sounds nerdy, but the thing is, Hunter plays some kind of rock violin. He travels to Providence for lessons, and he’s really serious about it. He always gets a solo at the winter concert and then a standing ovation.
“Oh yeah. I think I’m starting a band with these kids from Madison in a few months,” he tells me. “We have the same teacher, and we’re pretty pumped about it.”
“Sounds cool,” I say. Hunter’s one of those kids that’s going to be famous one day.
“Hey, Hunter,” Erica says, putting her hair up for the twentieth time. “Zoe’s dad plays electric guitar. He has this whole music room upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”
This is my fault. I shouldn’t have brought up the violin. But we were all just sitting there silently watching Erica do crazy things with her hair, and it was getting awkward. I even found a few strands of hair in the hummus. Gross.
“Cool,” is all he says, and he follows her upstairs. It’s too bad that Zoe’s house has so much interesting stuff.
PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black Page 15