Finding Laila: Some Changes are Necessary

by T. K. Rapp

  “Laila,” I heard shouted from behind.

  I stopped walking and turned to face them, and the two that had been watching Cole moments before were giving me an odd look.

  “Yeah?”

  “C’mere.” She waved me over with a friendly smile.

  Me? Really?

  I didn’t have girlfriends, so it was new for me to be accepted into the girl-world.

  “Y’all go ahead, I’ll come by your house when I’m done,” I told Haden with a hopeful smile.

  “You sure?” he asked. “We can wait for you—it’s no big deal.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ll call you later?”

  “Yeah, see ya,” Cole said as he continued walking.

  Haden cocked his head to the side to make sure I was good, but I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

  “Go,” I ordered with a smile. “They probably want to ask for your number, so leave.”

  “Whatever,” he said as he turned to walk away.

  I watched while he caught up with Cole, and when they were a safe distance away I walked toward the two girls that I’d known but never talked to.

  “Callie, right?” I asked, as I got closer.

  “Yeah, and this,” she pointed to the other girl, “is Cloe.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said with a nod.

  I’d perfected the nod because of the guys.

  “So what’s with you and Cole? Or are you with Haden?”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, confused by the question.

  “No judgment here,” she said in a totally judgmental tone as she threw her hands up, “but you know it’s a little slutty to have two guys at once, right?”

  Inside, my jaw dropped, my eyes bugged out, and I was sweating profusely.

  Outside, I was the picture of calm.

  “I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” I asked, disgust evident in my tone.

  “I don’t think I stuttered.” She blinked and turned to her friend. “Cloe, did I stutter?”

  Cloe, to her credit, appeared as shocked by Callie’s words as I felt, and shook her head slowly.

  I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and fixed my glare on Callie. “First off, there is nothing slutty about being friends with guys. And second, your jealousy is showing and it looks a little pathetic. Maybe Cloe can help you get your head out of your own ass so you can grow up.”

  I spun on my heels and started walking away when I heard her shout a few nasty expletives my way, whore being the last one I heard before I was out of earshot. I never turned around. I kept my head high as the tears rolled down my face, but they would never know. I’d never give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had gotten to me.

  It was the first time someone had called me a name because of my association with the guys, but it wouldn’t be the last. As I rounded the corner, Haden was leaning against an old oak tree, staring at his phone, and I stopped. My fingers swept under my eyes quickly to hide the tears, but my red nose gave me away.

  “I thought I was going to meet you at your house.”

  “I’m not sure if Mom is home yet. She had a late shift last night, so she might be sleeping—wait, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling himself away from the tree as I got closer.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged, taking my bag from his shoulder. We started walking toward our neighborhood and he shook his head.

  “Liar,” he said, keeping his eyes off of me.

  “It’s not a big deal. Just next time I think I want to be friends with girls, remind me why I need to stay away.”

  “What did they say?” he asked in an even tone.

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know that you and the guys are really lucky to have me.” I smiled through the tears in my eyes.

  “Lucky, huh?”

  “Yeah, I mean,—you have a resident concubine in your group. Did you know that?”

  He stopped walking and reached for my arm to turn me around to face him. My tears finally spilled out and he wiped them away.

  “Why do you care what they think, Lai?”

  “I’m a girl, Haden, and despite my unofficial ‘guy’ status, of course I care!”

  “Yeah, you’re a girl. But you aren’t like other girls.”

  “But I am.” I swiped at my eyes and showed him the mascara that had run with the tears. “See? Girl! And if that’s not enough, I have the same girl parts, I get the monthlies, and I have crushes on boys that will never find out.”

  His shoulders slumped and he stepped into my space and wrapped his arm around me. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re special, Nixon. We all know it. And you know there is nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”

  “I don’t need saving.”

  “You’d think with all the time we’ve spent together, you’d have thicker skin by now.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We’re guys—we have no filter. I’m sure we’ve said worse than they could ever say to you,” he said honestly.

  “Y’all haven’t tried to hurt me or gone out of your way to make me feel like a complete loser.”

  “No, but we both know you’ve seen and heard your fair share from us.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh and Haden became uncharacteristically animated. He jumped back and clapped his hands together. “A smile! I’ll take it.”

  “Weirdo,” I shot back as we started walking.

  “You know it,” he said. “And you still love me.”

  “I do,” I admitted, linking my arm through his. “So where did Cole disappear to?”

  “I may have told him the girls were interested in him,” he laughed.

  “Haden Searle,” I admonished. “You know what a sucker he is for attention.”

  “Yeah. I’m a jerk,” he admitted. “But it was funny to watch him run home. He’s expecting a call with numbers, by the way.”

  “What am I supposed to tell him?”

  “Nothing. Just let him wait by the phone all night.” He winked and I laughed.

  “You guys are terrible.”

  “See, it’s not just chicks,” he retorted.

  “I guess not,” I agreed and leaned my head on his shoulder. “So how long are you going to let him wait?”

  He looked at his watch and shrugged, “Forever?”

  “I may need to rethink this friend situation—Lord knows what you guys say when I’m not around,” I said only partially joking.

  “Nah, I’d never let them do that to you.”

  “Always looking out for me—jeez, I need to set you up with someone.” I squeezed his arm, trying to think of someone good enough for Haden. Perhaps Jason Gentry, the new guy?

  “No need—I’m all taken care of,” he protested quickly.

  I would have argued, or begged to know who he was talking about, but I knew he’d let me know in his own time.

  So I let it go.

  Chapter 4 ~ Finding Art

  I’m not a girlie girl.

  I’m not a girlie girl.

  Somehow, repeating the words doesn’t make me feel any less girlie, and the makeup I am plastering to my face confirms it.

  I am, in fact, a girl.

  I never wear much makeup because it feels suffocating, but since it’s Haden’s big night, I’ll take the leap. As I stand here looking at my reflection, I can’t fight the smile that creeps onto my face.

  Not bad, Laila.

  I had to find YouTube videos about how to apply a smoky eye, because if I wear eye shadow, it’s one color and it’s all over my lid. It took me three tries to perfect the look, and the result makes my blue-green eyes stand out. I apply another coat of mascara, determined to make my lashes look long and full like the girl on the video.

  That’s it, I’ve gone full-on girl!

  My dress is hanging on the back of my closet door and I step into it so I can pull it up over my hips. Over the head is not an option. I spent twenty minutes working my chestnut brown hair into a sleek, low, side-braid, which is more than I would no
rmally do. Mom tried to talk me into wearing a necklace, but I’m not a jewelry person so this leaves my neck exposed.

  I find the zipper on the side and secure the dress in place, brushing the sides down to free any unevenness. Mom and I went shopping the other day, despite my aversion to it, and she insisted this was the one.

  Looking at my reflection, I struggle to see why people point out the resemblance to my mom. Brown hair that is a shade lighter than hers, and medium build—I suppose I can attribute those to my mom. But other than that, it’s a stretch.

  “Is it okay to come in?” she calls from the other side of my door with a knock. Speak of the gorgeous devil.

  “Yeah, I need a little help.”

  She walks into the room and smiles at my simple knee-length yellow dress and stands next to me as we look in the mirror. Standing side by side, I can see the concern in her eyes, though I don’t know why. I’ve caught her watching me carefully quite a bit lately, as if she’s trying to memorize something about me.

  “I can’t believe you’re about to be eighteen,” she sighs wistfully. “You look gorgeous.”

  “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

  “I do not,” she argues. “The manual clearly stated to provide food, shelter, and clothing—it said nothing of padding your ego.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” I scoff. “Which ones look better?” I ask, holding up two pairs of shoes.

  “I like the strappy silver heels.”

  “Good. Me, too.” I toss the shiny black heels into the closet and start to slip on the winning choice.

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Just making sure you haven’t gone senile yet.”

  “I don’t think I saw that in the manual either.” She pats at her jean pockets and looks around.

  “Saw what?” I play along.

  “The part where your teenage daughter is supposed to turn into a snarky brat.”

  “Ooh! Good one, Mom.” I smile and walk to my bedroom door. “Next time, throw in a hormonal jerk or ungrateful teenager. Or better yet, bring up those grey hairs you claim I gave you that no one but you sees.”

  “Noted. I’ll work on my witty banter while you’re gone,” she says and hits my butt as I leave the room.

  “Just save them for Luka—something tells me she’ll need them.”

  The doorbell rings and Mom runs ahead of me downstairs to greet Haden. I make one last stop by the bathroom to check my makeup and apply another spritz of hairspray.

  I hear Mom gushing downstairs and I can’t help but laugh at poor Haden’s expense. He hates attention—we all know it—so I think Mom is laying it on thick for that reason alone.

  I take a few steps and stop to listen to the conversation.

  “Laila didn’t tell us much other than you are showing some of your work at the gallery tonight,” Mom reveals, clearly fishing for details.

  “Yes ma’am,” he says in his sweetest voice. “Don’t be too mad at her, she doesn’t know much about it either. I just told everyone a couple of weeks ago. Stefon liked what he saw this summer and gave me a room to showcase my artwork.”

  “Your mom must be proud,” she adds.

  “She really wants to go see it, but she’s been working evenings lately and when she’s off—she’s…she’s tired. She hopes she’ll get to come by before it closes next week,” he says.

  It’s unfortunate that she may not be able to see his first gallery show, because it would mean so much to him. When his dad passed at the end of eighth grade, his mom had to take on extra shifts at the hospital to make ends meet and Haden had to step up at home. He grew up quicker than the rest of us—everyone noticed.

  I finally take the steps to meet him in the living room and do my best to balance on the extra three inches of height added by way of my heels. A dress and heels—what was I thinking?

  My breath catches when I spot Haden looking so grown up. His black hair is brushed and styled to look like one of those models in the magazines. The black suit fits him perfectly, with a simple skinny tie around his neck. He looks like Haden, but not.

  I clear my throat and wait to get his attention before stepping off the last stair and placing my hands on my hips. Haden stands there with a blank look on his face and I’m instantly self-conscious until he smiles.

  “You—I mean—you look…” He pauses and shakes his head and clears his throat. “You clean up nice, Nixon.” He holds his arms out for my inspection and I see the telltale signs of my Haden buried beneath the sleeves—the four black bracelets on his left wrist.

  “Wow, Searle,” I marvel. “So do you.”

  “Oh good grief!” Mom laughs. “Will you two stop with the last names? It’s not as cool as you think it is.”

  “Good,” Haden says. “We don’t want to be cool. Do we, Nixon?”

  “Nope. Never, Searle,” I laugh.

  “Mission accomplished,” Dad laughs before he walks over to give me a hug.

  Mom rolls her eyes and snickers. “Okay, you better go before you’re late.”

  “You look beautiful, honey,” Dad says. He kisses my temple and shakes Haden’s hand. “Good luck tonight, Haden.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Nixon.”

  Haden sticks out his elbow for me to take ahold of as we walk out, but we are stopped.

  “Haden,” Luka yells as she runs down the stairs.

  He stops to face the little heathen and she has something in her hands. He squats down to her level and she stops in front of him.

  “I got this for you.” She holds up a pink bracelet, similar to his black ones, and smiles.

  “For me?” He grins. “Can you put it on me?”

  Her cheeks turn red and I roll my eyes. “Hurry up, Luka. Haden has to go.”

  “Chill out, Nixon.” He looks up at me and narrows his eyes before looking back to the puffy-cheeked kid. “It’s not every day a cute girl gives me a bracelet.”

  “Hey,” I start to argue, when I realize what an idiot I sound like for being pissed about a compliment one of my best friends pays to a five-year-old.

  Haden touches the bracelet, pulls her in for a big hug, and blows a raspberry on her neck. She starts laughing so hard that I can’t help but laugh, too.

  “We gotta go,” he says to her. “But thank you for this. I love it.”

  “Love you, Haden,” she practically sings.

  “Love you, too, kiddo.”

  We are about to step out the front door when we are stopped again, this time by my mom.

  “Lemme get a quick picture with my phone,” she says as she holds the device out in front of her.

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask, rolling my eyes and smiling.

  Yeah, might as well because this won’t happen again.

  “Hey, I don’t remember the last time I saw you in a dress, so hush and let me take the picture,” she orders, and then mutters to Dad, “not sure when we’ll see this again.”

  Can she read my mind?

  “Haden, get closer.” She waves him until he’s standing right next to me.

  “I won’t bite, Searle,” I tease with a smile.

  He gives me a smirk and wraps his arm around my waist before he pulls me into him. I try to give him a teasing glare, but he playfully jabs at my side causing me to squirm.

  “Okay, before I have to take him down, did you get the shot?” I finally ask before reaching for the doorknob.

  “Got it. You two have fun.” She smiles again.

  “Goodnight,” I say, closing the door behind me.

  We walk down the steps and Haden runs ahead to get the passenger door. The guys hold doors open for me but they never open car doors, pull out chairs, or anything like that, so the gesture catches me off guard.

  “Thank you,” I stammer weakly, thankful it’s dark out so he doesn’t see my embarrassment as I slide onto the dark leather bucket seat of his slate gray GTO.

  There’s something about these old cars and the way I feel in them that makes m
e giddy. The only thing that he’s done to this car is the paint job; everything else is original, and I love that he’s left it alone. It belonged to his dad, and his mom gave it to him as a gift over the summer to get to and from work. Perhaps that’s why he’s left it mostly untouched—as homage to his dad.

  He walks around to the driver’s side, slips into the car, and shuts the door. I glance over as he slips the key into the ignition but he sits back before he turns the engine over.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as I cock my head to the side.

  He runs his hand through his hair and rests his head back on the seat.

  “If I make you that nervous, I’ll go with the guys when you give us the okay.” I don’t want to ruin his night or make him nervous. This is a big deal.

  “It’s not that. It’s just, well, I need to warn you about the showing. Stefon’s work is a little weird—some critics have really ripped it up.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” I defend. It’s funny he feels the need to mention it, considering everything he and the others have exposed me to over the years.

  “I won’t be able to show you around when we get there, so you’ll be on your own.” He looks concerned when he finally looks at me.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can handle being on my own, Haden. I’m not a kid.”

  “I know, I just feel bad, and I’m not sure what you’ll think of my stuff.”

  “This is your night, I’m going to support my best friend, so whatever you need, just say the word. Okay?”

  “All right,” he agrees, finally turning the ignition.

  The car roars to life and a surge of excitement runs through me as we back down the driveway.

  “So tell me about your artwork. I’ve seen the abstracts you did for art class last year—how is this stuff different?”

  “Stefon encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone, to try new things. So this is much more personal, I guess that’s why I don’t want the guys to see it—or you, for that matter.”