Are We There Yet?

by Kathleen West

  And yes, she admitted to herself but not to Chloe, Tane was kind of cute. He had his height, his floppy hair, and his super white teeth. And neither of them had been at the best party of the year so far.

  “Hi!” Tane blushed when Sadie sat down. She grinned. He liked her, she thought. Or at least he was curious about her.

  “Hey, so,” she said, aiming for casual, “I was thinking about the hashtags.”

  Tane coughed. “I saw your Insta.” His eyes dropped to his sneakers, navy blue with a logo Sadie didn’t recognize. “Our selfie with the correct spelling? I actually got a bunch of new followers from that post. They, like, doubled. Not that I had that many . . .” He kept his eyes on the floor.

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Sadie said. Her confidence expanded as Tane’s seemed to deflate. She glanced down the table at the other kids. Yusef, Douglas, and Gretchen, Tane’s usual lunch crew, were engrossed in a debate about the prevalence of American president questions in Quiz Bowl finals. It was high, Sadie knew. She’d been bingeing documentaries on the History and National Geographic channels to prep. She’d tried to convince her mom to watch something like that on Friday, but instead it had been You’ve Got Mail, the latest in a series of retro rom-coms.

  “You’re on the rise,” Sadie whispered to Tane. She sounded like a contestant on The Bachelor, she thought. “Everyone wants to know more about you.”

  “Who’s everyone?” Tane picked at his thumbnail. Sadie could see that a new coat of purple polish on his index fingers had already chipped. She used to think it was weird that Tane wore the splotches of polish, but now she saw that it was one of the things that made him different. Maybe not cool, exactly, but not your typical seventh-grade boy.

  “Chloe. McCoy. Mikaela. Landon.” She pointed at their lunch tables. “I think you should put some content out there and capitalize on the hype. You don’t have to be just the kid who got, you know . . .” Sadie trailed off. She didn’t know how to reference what had happened at assembly. “Pantsing” was what her mother had said, but that word made Sadie feel like puking.

  She watched Tane’s cheeks for a blush, but it had faded. He looked almost bored as he scanned the lunchroom. “I don’t care what people think of me.” Tane shook his head and picked up his chicken patty. He took a bite and kept talking, chewing with one side of his mouth. “I can’t control what a Neanderthal like Teddy Sullivan is going to do, only how I react to it.”

  “Is that what Mr. Whittaker told you?” Sadie envisioned the assistant principal clapping Tane on the back during a pep talk.

  Tane nodded. “And my mom.”

  “Well, they’re probably right.” Sadie opened her lunch bag and pulled out the spring rolls her mother had prepped last night. “And,” she said, “I have an idea for your next move.” She had decided during game night—when all of her friends were at Chloe’s, their Insta stories filled with inside jokes that Sadie only half understood—that she should help Tane strike back.

  “Move?” They both watched McCoy Blumenfeld throw a grape in the air and catch it in his open mouth. Landon fist-bumped him.

  “Teddy shouldn’t get the last word.” Sadie snuck a glance at Tane then and smiled at his slack jaw. Tane had already changed so much since sixth grade. He was totally different and completely unique.

  Alice Sullivan

  Alice disconnected her home Wi-Fi after lunch, checked her purse for Teddy’s phone, and then left him alone while she spent the afternoon with Ramona in their office conference room. They caressed tile samples and perused high-res images of slabs of natural stone with intermittent flecks of pink. Despite Ramona’s power play with the Harrisons, she was happy to be back on the project that had gotten them into Elle Decor. After looking at the calendar, Ramona had quasi-apologized and requested Alice’s help.

  While they worked, Alice opened her mouth more than once to tell Ramona about the defaced lawn sign in her neighborhood. She pictured the garish fluorescent pink, not at all like the amaranth in the stone they studied, scrawled over Ramona’s staid logo, but she held back. She’d stop by the client’s house on her way home, she decided, and quietly replace the sign she’d stashed in her trunk with a new one. She should check NextDoor to see whether anyone had posted the compromised logo. Later, she thought, her mind already racing, pinging back and forth between thoughts of Julienne and her work.

  In terms of the Kerrigan design, the natural stone had been Alice’s idea. She’d sketched several versions of a centerpiece table, all with tulip bases. She’d wondered if they couldn’t get a little of the pink color back into the kitchen after tearing out the Mamie Eisenhower stove. Pink might satisfy the “whimsical” portion of Ramona’s design promise, and then concrete countertops would adhere to the “industrial chic” idea, which had so pleased Bea Kerrigan.

  Alice supposed she should be happy Ramona was still letting her consult. Of course, she was the one with the CAD skills and the LEED certification. All of the big clients these days wanted eco-friendly and sustainable structures. If Ramona didn’t have Alice, she’d have to hire someone else. And that would take time. So, for the moment, though things were strained, Alice was back in the fold.

  “This.” Alice held a ceramic tile next to the on-screen stone. “Imagine this plus the marzipan wall, and the concrete.” She kept her voice steady, no question mark in her inflection. After five years at Ramona Design, she knew her boss rewarded confidence. Ramona would undoubtedly need at least an hour to think about whether the pink-marzipan-concrete idea had legs, so Alice quickly excused herself. She had to call Green Haven Family Services and cancel Teddy’s appointment.

  “I’ll be back,” she said as Ramona held her chin in her hand and stood next to the screen. “I just need a little privacy for a phone call. Kid stuff.” She felt herself blush and raced out of the office before either of her colleagues could react.

  Alice’s favorite leopard-print flats tapped in the parking ramp as she half jogged to her Volvo. She’d been tempted to tell Patrick that Julienne was the same therapist that Nadia had recommended, but she hadn’t. He’d been so supportive, checking in with her multiple times per day even from Ohio, even though Alice knew he was under Sachman’s thumb. It had felt good, despite the Julienne setback, to accomplish both the apology to the Lagerheads and the appointment. Canceling would seem like such a backslide, and Alice hadn’t had time to seek out any additional recommendations in the eighteen hours since she’d discovered Julienne’s true identity. Annoyed, she dialed.

  “Green Haven Family Services. This is Griffin. How can I help you?” It was the same guy who’d scheduled her for one of Julienne’s emergency early-morning slots.

  “Hi.” Alice sounded too loud in her station wagon as she spoke over the light hum of the engine. “Um, yes. This is Alice Sullivan. Last week you helped me make an appointment for my son with Dr. Martín?”

  “Martín,” her mother had said. “Her husband is Spanish.” She’d said it with a wistfulness in her voice, as if it had always been her dream to have a European son-in-law. Alice thought of Patrick’s parents in Bloomington, Indiana. His dad performed in a jazz quartet, and Patrick himself could play four instruments. That had been interesting enough for Evelyn before, but Alice guessed it couldn’t compete with being Spanish.

  “Right,” Griffin said. “I remember you. Thursday morning.” She could hear him clicking, probably verifying the appointment on Julienne’s calendar. “Did you have additional questions? Has your schedule changed?”

  “Actually . . .” Alice felt hot despite the fall chill and pulled her sweater away from her chest to let in some air. She flicked the heating vent toward the ceiling and stabbed at the climate control fan, switching it to low. “I think I need to cancel.”

  “Oh no.” Griffin held the “o” sympathetically. “Well, we’re more than twenty-four hours out, so there won’t be a fee. When would you like to come
in instead?”

  “Um.” Alice should have rehearsed her reason. It wasn’t as if she could tell Griffin that Teddy couldn’t become a patient at Green Haven because Julienne was Alice’s secret sister. Not sister. Alice shook her head. “I’m just—” Her voice broke.

  “Hey,” Griffin interrupted. “It’s totally normal to have some second thoughts about therapy. I get calls like this all the time. But can I just say? Green Haven is the best.” Griffin sounded like he was talking about a new restaurant or the opening of a play. “Dr. Martín is a total pro. You and your son are in great hands.”

  “Ah,” Alice started again. Despite Griffin’s earnest pep talk, she needed to cancel. She knew it. But as she pictured Julienne’s headshot, she also felt overcome with a desire to see what she looked like in person. How did her blond hair actually fall on her shoulders? Were the waves as perfect in real life as they were in photos? Alice wanted to study Julienne’s mannerisms and facial expressions. She had scoured YouTube in vain for videos. Julienne and their mother—how odd that phrase sounded, their mother—had spent so much time together already while Alice had been oblivious. Shouldn’t she get a chance to observe, too? To be a secret-keeper instead of the person from whom the truth was kept?

  “Maybe I’m overreacting.” Alice’s mouth went dry. She fell back against the headrest, imagining Patrick’s reaction to her keeping this appointment. He’d think she was crazy. Maybe she was crazy.

  “Keep the appointment,” Griffin said, unwittingly egging her on. “I can almost guarantee you won’t regret it. One hour is not exactly a lifetime commitment, you know?” He laughed.

  “Okay.” Alice felt slightly nauseous. “Thank you. You’re right.”

  “Perfect,” Griffin said. “Then we’ll see you Thursday.” He hung up.

  Alice imagined Patrick’s face for a moment. He’d be shocked at her decision to spy on Julienne this way. “At Teddy’s expense,” he might say. Except it wasn’t at Teddy’s expense. Teddy would still get therapy, and if Julienne was as smart as everyone said she was, the therapy would be pretty good. And Alice would be able to tell Jason Whittaker at Teddy’s reentry meeting immediately after the seven thirty a.m. appointment that not only had she logged in to the portal, but Teddy’d been to see a psychologist as well. This wasn’t all bad. At least, that’s what she repeated to herself as she hustled back to her office.

  Sadie Yoshida

  Sadie had mentioned Tane’s Instagram Live video on her story. She’d told Chloe and Mikaela about it. But until she actually logged in at eight thirty, the second she’d gotten to her room after synchro practice and thirty minutes before her phone curfew, she wasn’t actually sure that Tane would do it.

  But there he was, his adorable hair half-covering his left eye, smiling at her from her phone. Sadie’s stomach flipped. She heard McCoy’s voice in her head. “Gotta move that ass.” She saw Teddy’s mocking smile in the gym during dodgeball. She remembered the way he’d ignored her at the homecoming game, disappearing instead with Alexandra Hunt, who had now begun wearing a fluorescent pink “This is what a feminist looks like” T-shirt multiple times per week. Does Teddy actually like feminism? Sadie thought not. After all, he’d been fine with his friend making fun of her ass.

  “Hey,” Tane said slowly. “So, this is my first Instagram Live. Shout out to Sadie Yoshida for, like, making me do this.” He pointed down at the screen, where he probably saw her username pop up. “Maybe it’s the start of my new life? Hashtag-Team-Tane?”

  Sadie grinned. How had she not noticed exactly how cute he was before? His skin had a golden color to it, and his eyes were a deep brown. He’d positioned the phone the perfect distance from his face, and Sadie couldn’t help but thrill at the revelation that he was doing exactly what she had said, following her directions meticulously. She leaned forward, hunched over her phone, and glanced up just for a second to be sure her door was closed. Her mother wouldn’t understand Instagram Live, and she definitely didn’t know about @SadeeLux.

  “So,” Tane said, and Sadie couldn’t help thinking his smile was just for her, though the viewers accumulated. Assuming she’d been first, Tane was up to seventeen. “I’m going to do five reasons you should be Team Tane.” He held his hair back with his palm as he looked at a piece of paper, the one Sadie had ripped out of her English composition notebook as they’d brainstormed.

  “The first reason is soccer. I’ve been playing travel soccer for a couple of years, but this year I’m on the premier team for Elm Creek Soccer Association. And also, I’m on the A team at school. That’s, like, with mostly eighth graders. So, just in case you’re remembering me as a tiny kid from elementary school, things have changed.” He laughed a little then. Sadie sucked in her breath.

  “Number two.” Tane held up his two painted fingernails, the index fingers on each hand. “I’m into color, and I don’t care what you think about it.”

  Sadie blinked. She felt her shoulders creep toward her ears. Tane looked so confident. In seventh grade, it did seem like kids needed a signature something. She had synchro, and recently, @SadeeLux and Quiz Bowl. Teddy had a million friends, and now a bad-boy reputation. And Tane had his total originality. His nerdy chic.

  Tane’s third and fourth items were cute, but low-stakes. He was the European history and Norse mythology whiz for Quiz Bowl, and he’d reread the whole Harry Potter series five times. “That’s not as good as Sadie’s six.” Tane smiled. Sadie bit her lip and emitted a little squeal. “I’m a Hufflepuff,” Tane said, “like Cedric Diggory. So, you know, pretty badass.”

  Sadie cocked her head to the side. She pictured Tane in PE, telling her to stand behind him; Tane in Quiz Bowl, complimenting her prowess on the geometry and Earth science sections.

  “Which brings me to the last reason you should be hashtag-Team-Tane. It’s because Teddy, even though he seems tough and cool, has his own issues. I mean, besides being obsessed with other people’s privates. I have it from an inside source that he sleeps with a stuffed otter. So maybe he’s not that tough. And he wore Pull-Ups until the fifth grade. So . . .”

  Sadie flopped on her back, holding her phone in front of her face. He’d done it. He’d opened the Chamber of Secrets. Or she had. She could see twenty-nine viewers on the video, their emoji responses to the mic drop moment floating up on the screen: laugh-crying; the little face with the tiny round, shocked mouth; the flame.

  “So that’s it, right?” Tane said. “I hope you’re convinced. Hashtag-Team-Tane.” And then he was gone, and Sadie started getting texts from Mikaela and Chloe and even stupid McCoy Blumenfeld asking her how she’d known, all before her apps were turned off by her mom at nine o’clock on the nose.

  Alice Sullivan

  Though Alice had been nervous when she’d left Teddy alone on Wednesday morning, everything had been fine at home. Of course, Ramona had given her a look when she’d packed up just before lunch. “Your kids have really interfered with our business hours lately,” she’d said. Alice reiterated her promise to work from home and reminded herself that her LEED certification was paramount to growing the company. Plus, if she left now, she could sneak in a run before dark. With Patrick traveling, it had become nearly impossible to exercise. They’d thought about buying a treadmill when Patrick had been on a different case in Des Moines the year before, but Alice had resisted. She loved running outside away from the children and their ill-timed requests. Plus, there was the expense of the treadmill. She’d been hoarding every penny for that custom paint job in the dining room. She hadn’t told Patrick about the plan yet, but it’d be perfect for the Elle Decor shoot.

  At home, she peeked in on Teddy. He tossed a lacrosse ball from hand to hand and stared at the soccer poster on his ceiling. “I’m going for a run,” she said.

  “Ugh.” Teddy grimaced. “I’ve been running way too much at practice lately.” Patrick had told her the coach had made him do an extra f
ifteen minutes of laps to punish him for Tane.

  As she left, Alice slammed the door harder than she’d meant to and ran quickly down the sidewalk in the crisp October air. Despite her desire to escape, she pictured her son on his bed. She wondered whether Teddy was depressed. Maybe he was. Her stomach dropped, thinking about it, and she increased her pace. Bullying was a sign of depression, she knew from her extensive Internet research. Of course, she’d balked at the term “bully,” but when she’d tested it out at drinks with Meredith and Nadia the other night, neither of them had contradicted her. Even if Teddy wasn’t “a bully” in the static sense, clearly the incident at assembly raised flags.

  Alice could still taste the olive she’d been chewing when Meredith peered at her over the rim of her wineglass as she summarized the meeting with Whittaker. Alice recognized Meredith’s expression as the same one she adopted each time Nadia confessed the latest in her years-long struggle with Donovan’s behavior. And since that horrible meeting in Whittaker’s office, Alice had barely made eye contact with her son, much less “gotten through” to him. Teddy’s suspension was basically over, and she hadn’t accomplished anything beyond the apology and the questionable appointment at Green Haven.

  Alice shook her arms at her sides as she reached the stoplight at Stable Creek Pass and Appletree Road. Although Teddy hadn’t achieved a transformation, Alice had done research. She’d paged through her new parenting books and scoured the Internet. It had been a challenge to make herself click on “7 Signs Your Child Might Be a Bully,” but she felt she owed it to Janna Lagerhead. As she began it, she wondered about the other mothers who visited the site. Was she like them? Was she like Nadia, who had to go to special meetings at school with all manner of administrative personnel to keep Donovan from getting expelled?