Ten Things We Did (and Probably Shouldn't Have)

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “A guy who treats his mom well treats his wife well,” Marissa said.

  “He definitely treats his girlfriend well,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.

  “You can still play,” Vi said. “I’ll just give you something else to drink.” She put the glasses down on the coffee table and headed back to the kitchen. “How about . . . soy milk?”

  Noah shrugged, still looking annoyed. He shifted away from Vi and put his arm around me. Since Vi’s and my friendship was so separate from my everyday social life, Noah and Vi had never spent much time together. I had assumed they’d get along. Why wouldn’t they? I liked them both.

  “Soy milk? That’s disgusting,” Dean said. He was fingering one of the seven candleholders that were also on the coffee table.

  “That’s all we have. April, we really need to go grocery shopping tomorrow. How about water?”

  “Whatever,” Noah said.

  “Water it is. Chardonnay for everyone not driving. Thank you, Mom, for leaving me a stocked liquor cabinet.”

  BACK TO THE GAME

  “Dude,” Dean said, looking at Noah. “You’ve never done it? That’s going to change. Your girlfriend has her own house. Speaking of . . .” He lifted his glass. “I’ve never had my own house.”

  Vi and I drank.

  I put my hand on my hip, the alcohol making me feel tough. “You didn’t want to say, I’ve never been abandoned by my parents?”

  Dean blushed and shook his head.

  Marissa squeezed my shoulder.

  Hudson laughed.

  I looked over at him and smiled. “At least someone thinks I’m funny.”

  Hudson was also a senior. Which was weird because he was ten months older than Dean but still in the same grade. Hudson was hot, while Dean was more of a cutie. Hudson had dirty-blond hair, crazy cheekbones, and blue eyes that were right now popping from across the room. He looked nothing like his brother. And as far as I could tell, Hudson kept his hands to himself. He kept most things to himself. He dated Sloane Grayson for most of last year but they broke up during the summer before she left for college. He was a possible drug dealer. Probably a rumor but supposedly he’d bought a brand-new Jeep with no help from his parents. Also, he was always “working” yet no one would say what he was doing.

  “I can’t believe you guys get to live together,” Joanna said. “Lucky bitches.”

  “My parents would have made me move,” Corinne said.

  “Our parents keep hoping we’ll move,” Dean said. “Vi, why couldn’t April just move into your mom’s room instead of the basement?”

  “My mom is going to come back for a weekend or so,” Vi said. “This is still her house.”

  She was?

  “It’s kind of like April has her own apartment,” Marissa said.

  “But, April, won’t you, like, miss your parents?” Corinne asked, looking not at me but beside me in Noah’s direction. She definitely wasn’t concerned with my feelings. She wanted me on the next plane to France or Ohio. Or anywhere not here. She licked her lips after she spoke. She always licked her lips. Maybe she thought it made her look sexy. Or maybe her lips were just dry and scaly and in desperate need of moisturization.

  In a way I felt bad for her. It must be hell to be so obviously and publicly in love with someone else’s boyfriend for all of high school. Not bad enough for me to hand him over. Sorry, Cor. Keep licking those lips.

  “She’s going to have too much fun to miss anyone,” Marissa said.

  RJ stretched his right arm, making it pop. “What happens if April’s dad Googles Vi’s mom and sees that she’s in Chicago?”

  Silence.

  “Then I’m screwed,” I said. I took a sip of wine.

  “Let’s get back to the game,” Marissa said, bumping her knee against mine. “I’ve never worn a tie.”

  All the guys drank.

  RJ looked at Corinne. “Never have I ever worn a bikini,” he said.

  Vi snorted. “Never have I ever?”

  “That’s how we do it,” RJ said.

  “It sounds ridiculous,” Vi said. “But since I have worn a bikini, I will drink.”

  RJ watched Corinne as she sipped. He was probably trying to get her drunk so he’d have a chance with her. He’d been obsessed with her since the beginning of the year. He invited her everywhere. But if Corinne liked him back, she would have hooked up with him already. Clearly she was still interested in Noah.

  “I’ve never been to Europe,” Hudson said.

  I drank. Noah drank. Corinne drank. Awesome. Maybe the three of us should take a trip together. Or not.

  “I’ve never been to Disney World,” Joanna said.

  I drank again. I hated Disney. More specifically, I hated Epcot. The burn down my throat helped wipe out the memory.

  Marissa bumped my knee again. She knew all about my Epcot story.

  “I’ve never been to Danbury,” Corinne said.

  I laughed into my glass. Seriously?

  Joanna looked incredulous. “How is that possible? It’s forty minutes away.”

  Corinne shrugged. “No reason to go.”

  “What about the Danbury Fair Mall? That should be reason enough,” Marissa said.

  Corinne shook her head and licked her lips.

  Hudson’s cell rang. He picked up the phone, looked at the call display, and muttered, “Excuse me.” He took the call in the bathroom.

  “Who’s he talking to?” Joanna asked Dean. “Why so secretive?”

  “You’d have to ask him,” Dean said with a smile.

  I wondered if he was still seeing Sloane or if it was something sketchy.

  “Is he making a delivery?” RJ asked in a fake whisper.

  “Yeah. To your mom,” Dean responded. He refilled all the empty glasses and then squeezed himself between Marissa and the end of the couch.

  “Um, hi there,” she said, scooting away from him and laughing.

  Vi rolled her eyes. “Try not to molest the newcomers,” she scolded him. “And Marissa has a boyfriend.”

  “Then where is he?” Dean asked.

  “Boston. We go to camp together.”

  “Clearly you need a Westport boyfriend too,” Dean said.

  Hudson returned to his spot.

  “My turn,” Vi interrupted. “I’ve never gotten dumped.”

  “You’ve never been in a relationship,” Dean said, drinking.

  “So? I’ve still never been dumped.”

  Corinne, Joanna, RJ, and Hudson drank too.

  I wondered whether it would be Noah or me who would have to drink to that eventually.

  “Who dumped you?” Joanna asked Hudson. “It wasn’t Sloane, was it?”

  “That’s a personal question,” Hudson said, leaning back.

  “It’s a personal game,” Joanna answered.

  “We should make it more personal,” Dean said. “Let’s play strip I Never.”

  “I’m in.” RJ looked at Corinne.

  “Not happening,” Vi said. “Keep your pants on. Why do guys have such one-track minds?”

  “We don’t,” RJ said. “We care about beer too. And Fantasy Football.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Dean said to Marissa. “I’m a Renaissance man. I care about lots of things. Like flowers. And orphans.”

  We all laughed, but Vi wasn’t done with him. “Please,” she said. “Even if you were in a relationship, you wouldn’t kick a hot, naked lady-stranger out of your bed.”

  “I would too,” Dean cried, holding his hands to his chest in mock hurt.

  “I love you, babe, but you wouldn’t.”

  Noah rolled his eyes.

  “Let’s move on,” I said, my neck tensing. “Who’s next?”

  “Something’s ringing,” Corinne said.

  In the distance I heard a cell ringing. My cell. Crap, it was downstairs. All of my friends were here. Which meant—my mom, dad, or Matthew. But my mom and Matthew were probably sleeping . . .

  I exc
used myself and ran down the stairs.

  The phone was no longer ringing by the time I reached it. I checked the call display. My dad. Three times. Uh-oh. I was about to hit REDIAL when it rang.

  Him again.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I was about to get back on a plane. Is everything okay?”

  My heart jumped into my throat. “No! Yes! I mean, everything’s fine! I was just upstairs. I didn’t hear the phone.”

  “I think you should always have the phone on you. So you can reach us. Or so we can reach you.”

  “You want me to get one of those cell-phone belts? People will think I’m a drug dealer.” And, hey! Speaking of drug dealers, there’s one sitting upstairs! Maybe.

  “April, that’s not funny. If I call and get no answer, I get worried. I’m a dad. I’m allowed.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll keep my phone with me.”

  “Next time you don’t answer I’m calling the police.”

  “Dad! That’s insane. What if I’m in the shower? I don’t want the police barging into the house.”

  “Then answer the phone.”

  WHY I MADE MY DAD’S RINGTONE A POLICE SIREN

  See above.

  BACK TO I NEVER

  Two minutes later I was once again in my seat on the couch between Noah and Marissa. Joanna, who was still sitting beside Noah, had her glass lifted. “I’ve never had a pet,” she said.

  “Does a mouse count?” Dean asked.

  Hudson groaned. “Michelangelo the mouse. He lived in your closet for six months.”

  “You couldn’t trap it?” Vi asked.

  Hudson laughed. “And kill his pet?”

  Vi slapped her hand against the couch. “Shut up. Why have I never heard this story?”

  Dean sighed. “It was before your time, my sweet.”

  “Noah has the cutest dog,” Corinne said, and I hated her a little.

  “Thanks,” he said. He put his hand on my knee. “April had a very cute cat too.”

  “Had?” Hudson said. “That sounds . . . sad.”

  “Oh, Libby didn’t die,” I said quickly, placing my hand over Noah’s. “When my mom moved to Paris she couldn’t bring her along ’cause of customs issues. And my stepmom isn’t a cat person, so . . . we gave her away.”

  “Still sounds sad,” Hudson said. I looked up and realized he was staring at me. Those eyes. Wow.

  “It was,” I said, wondering if he meant my mom taking my cat, or my mom moving to Paris.

  Noah turned his palm up so our fingers were pressed together. My hand was sticky from the wine.

  Dean lifted his glass again. “I’ll follow the house rules now, okay? I’ve never hooked up with anyone in this room.” He scooted closer to Marissa. “Perhaps I can drink to that later in the evening?”

  Everyone laughed, including Marissa. Marissa is too head over heels for Aaron to take Dean seriously anyway.

  Noah drank. I drank.

  Corinne drank. And smiled.

  Noah turned pink.

  THE CORINNE SITUATION

  It happened the summer after freshman year when I went with my mom to France. They were moving. I was visiting.

  Noah and I had “the talk” before I left. We weren’t breaking up, but we agreed that if something happened over the summer, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It had made sense at the time. At least to me. Noah and I had been together for less than eight months, I was going to Europe for two months, and I assumed there would be cute European boys to flirt with. I wanted to have an adventure. Since we were only fifteen, it seemed silly to stay exclusive for the summer. We would only resent each other, et cetera, et cetera.

  Obviously when I had made the suggestion to potentially see other people, I had imagined it would be me who would see the other people. Not him. And especially not someone we went to school with.

  I hadn’t planned on missing him as much as I had.

  I had thought, France! Romance! Chocolate! French boys who’d kiss me on the Eiffel Tower! I hadn’t expected to feel so out of place. I hadn’t expected the language barrier to be so tough. I hadn’t expected my mother—and my brother—to be so consumed with setting up their new lives that they had no time for me. I hadn’t expected my emails and phone calls to Noah to feel like a lifeline. Since we spoke every night, I assumed he was twiddling his thumbs waiting around for me, that he was just as lonely as I was. In retrospect, I always spoke to him before I went to bed, which was only around five his time. But not once during any of our phone calls had he said, “Oh, by the way, you’ll never guess where my tongue just was! In Corinne’s mouth!”

  We had plans for the night I flew home.

  Penny had unpacked all my stuff from my mom’s while I’d been away. My clothes. My books. My ceramic pen holder. All nicely put away in my dad and Penny’s furniture. I sat on the canopy bed Penny had picked for me when they’d first moved in and looked around the room, feeling out of place and comforted all at once. Then I jumped into the shower to get ready.

  When Noah pulled his bike into my driveway, I ran outside and kissed him before he could even get off.

  We met our friends on Compo Beach. Corinne was there. I was oblivious. I was nice and sweet and triumphant in an “I just got back from my über-glamorous trip to France, and what did you do this summer? Hang out at the mall? How original” way. I had tossed my styled-in-Paris hair and let my glowing skin speak for itself. Maybe I hadn’t had a French fling, but I had managed to come back from France looking hot. While my mother and brother were setting up their lives I was sitting in the backyard taking in the sun, or walking through the neighborhood. My skin was tanned, I’d had a great haircut, and I was skinny, despite the pounds of bread and Brie I consumed. French women don’t get fat, you know.

  I flounced around Compo Beach like an idiot.

  That must have been what Corinne thought—that I was a clueless idiot. She kept licking her lips and playing with her hair and I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with her.

  Later, back on my porch, I said to Noah, “I didn’t see anyone in France. I just want you to know.”

  I waited for him to say, “Of course I didn’t either—I am crazy in love with you!” Or a simple “me neither” would have sufficed.

  Instead, he looked down at his sneakers and flushed, and then fidgeted with his fingers. And I knew. I knew who it was too. I was almost more pissed that he didn’t tell me immediately—for letting me go out in public clueless—than I was about what happened. Almost.

  Come on! He stood by while I asked Corinne how her summer was! She had an incredible summer. She was hooking up with my boyfriend!

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as he told me the story.

  “You’re making me cry,” he said, his eyes welling up.

  “Good!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a dumbass! I just assumed you were hooking up with French douches . . . and Corinne was there. . . . Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” I asked. I felt as if my world had flip-flopped, as if everything I trusted had been turned upside down, and not for the first time. “Would you even have told me if I hadn’t brought it up?”

  “Yes!” he said, looking at his shoes. “I was going to tell you.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes . . . maybe . . .”

  “Maybe?”

  “I’m just so happy you’re home!”

  “Whatever. You’re probably going over to her house next.”

  “No, of course not! April . . . you’re the one who said we should see other people.”

  I pressed for details. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

  What did you do exactly? (Just kissed.) No under-the-shirt action? (A little, but not much.) A little was enough. Anything below the belt? (No, no, nothing.) Why should I believe you? (I wouldn’t lie.) How many times did it happen? (Not many.) How many times exactly? (Two, maybe three. Four tops.) Where did it happen? At your house? (At the beach.)
Compo Beach? Where we just went? (Yes.) Every time? (Mostly.) So not always. Where else? Your house? (No. Never. Her house.) You were in her house? Her room? (The living room.) What, did her family meet you or something? (Just once.)

  The black spots danced in front of my eyes. My heart hurt. I was sinking, sinking, sinking.

  I hadn’t been back to France since. Obviously I’d have to go at some point. My mom and Matthew lived there. And I would visit. Soon. It wasn’t just because I didn’t want to leave Noah unattended, I swear. My brother spent Christmas in Westport, so it hadn’t made much sense for me to go there. And my mom and brother came here last summer to see me. She wanted me to visit this summer. She expected me to visit this summer.

  And maybe I would. I wasn’t sure. I had a lot going on. You know.

  And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Noah. Because I did.

  When we’d first started dating, I’d asked him if he’d ever cheat on anyone.

  “I’d never,” he said. “You?”

  “Never,” I’d told him. Never would I ever.

  number three

  skipped school

  THE DIABOLICAL TWINS

  We didn’t skip school on the first day of the winter semester, but we were extremely late.

  Why?

  Because—as it turns out—there is a difference between Seventh Generation dish soap and Seventh Generation liquid detergent. You wouldn’t know this from looking at the bottles. Both are white. Both feature green-and-blue photographs of grass and sky. To the casual observer (well, to me), they might look like identical twins. The kind of identical twins who wear matching outfits just to screw with you.

  Before the soap fiasco, I was taking my sweet time getting ready for school. I had woken up at the crack of dawn. Partially because while the basement had blinds, it did not have blackout shades, partially because it was all still new to me—new house! New bed! New ceiling!—partially because I could hear Vi stomping on the floor above me, and partially because I’m the kind of geek who finds the first day back to school exciting.

  I even had a back-to-school outfit laid out on my desk—one of Vi’s low-cut gray sweaters, her crystal necklace that hung on a rope of black suede, and my favorite jeans.