“I was just making a statement on how you’re clearly over it, so you can consider it water under your bridge. As far as I’m concerned, my valley’s still flooded.”
He laughed. “You’re funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“Will you stop this?” He took a step toward me again but I backed away.
“No. You hurt me and then ten minutes later I was reading the inscription in that damn journal. Man, you got over that sentiment really fast.”
“Can we go back to the way things were?”
“Are you going to address what I just said?”
It was bright out but freezing. His lime-green Wayfarer sunglasses were sitting crookedly on top of his head. He had a thick flannel jacket over a white T-shirt that read “Chubby, Single, and Ready for a Pringle.” The sun was making his pleading and beautiful eyes look impossibly green. He was perfect. I had told him to date other girls and now he was, and I was feeling exactly how he predicted I would.
“Are you gonna answer me?” he said.
“You didn’t answer me.”
“Can we please go back to the way things were?”
“You mean with or without Lottie?”
He shook his head. “I thought we were keeping it platonic instead of atomic. Isn’t that what you meant?”
He was right. I had meant it at the time because I was scared. Did I still mean it? “She’s pretty,” I said.
“She is.”
I wanted to crumble into a ball and freeze to death in the snow right at his feet. “I have to get to practice,” I told him.
“Do you want to study tomorrow?” he asked. Studying with Gavin usually involved lying around listening to music.
“I have conditioning until three.”
He looked away, somewhat frustrated. When he looked back, his expression was sincere. “I have to work at five but I can come over for an hour or whatever before . . . if you want. Just to talk.”
“Okay,” I said with little emotion. We would work things out tomorrow.
I turned around and noticed Ling talking animatedly to Lottie and Lance. She was keeping them occupied.
“Ling’s a good friend,” I said.
“Not your best friend, though.”
“No. I guess not. Though she doesn’t try to make moves on me, so that makes things easier.” I smirked.
“You liked it, but consider that part over.” He put out his fist like we were going to fist-bump. I hugged him instead, and he held me long enough for it to count.
I pulled away. “See you tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“Lots,” he called out.
Ew, he calls her Lots?
When I walked back over to Ling, she had her arms crossed over her chest. Lance looked oblivious.
“Hey, Lance, Ling and I are gonna walk to the studio now.”
“I’ll join you,” he said.
“That’s okay, Penny and I need to talk,” Ling said.
I felt my stomach sinking, wondering what she had to say. I waved to Lance, even though he looked like he was going to try to hug me. Instead he froze where he stood and waved back.
Afterward, as we walked up the pathway toward the dance hall, Ling finally said, “So are you sad?”
Fully expecting her to berate me, I was surprised she was sympathetic. “I’m not sad. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow.”
“But things are going to change between you and Gavin now that Lots is in the picture.” She shot me a wry smile.
“Ha. That won’t last long. He’ll get her name tattooed on his forehead and then be sitting in my driveway a week later.”
“You’re pretty confident about that.”
“We have something. I don’t what it is, but it’s something different.”
When we got to the dance hall, Ling gave me a stiff hug. That was just Ling. She wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but she cared.
Joey was more on top of things that day at practice. I guess Doug had made a serious threat. There were other potential dancers Joey could have been partnered with besides me. I knew Joey hated all the other girls in the program. He wasn’t particularly fond of me either, but I didn’t think he hated me. Even though he was able to pull off the lift he had been struggling with, he still wasn’t getting the timing on the grand jeté move. We had a few months to work on it before our spring finals performance on May 3. He knew we had to nail it. Our futures depended on it.
THE NEXT DAY, when Gavin showed up at my house, my mother immediately commandeered his attention by having him look at an oil leak under her car.
“It’s like the day after I got the oil changed, all of a sudden it started leaking,” she told him.
Gavin was on his back on his skateboard, looking underneath her car. “It’s not from the oil change,” he said. “Where’d you have it done?”
“I don’t know, one of those quickie places.”
“You should have asked me.”
I wanted to kick him. He didn’t need to be doing favors for my mom when she spent hundreds of dollars a month on Kiki’s pageants.
“Well, if it’s not from that, what’s it from? I mean, don’t you find it coincidental? I’ve never seen a drop of oil on the garage floor. I get the oil changed and then take it for a smog check and they say there’s an oil leak. Now there’s oil on the garage floor.”
“Anne, if you want to get under here with me, I can show you what it might be.” He rolled out from underneath the car, hands and arms covered in grease, and smirked at her. He was flirting. So shameless.
“Just tell me, Gavin.”
He stood and walked over to the open hood of her car. Looking in, he said, “There was no oil in the pan. I unscrewed everything, took out the filter, looked at it. I knew it wasn’t the oil change because the oil was pooling underneath where the engine meets the transmission, which is nowhere near the filter. So it could be a broken seal—”
“What, like a rubber band?” my mother said.
“Like a gasket,” Gavin replied. “Or . . .” He scratched his chin, wiping grease on it. “Maybe the smog guys dumped some oil down there to make it look like you had an oil leak. Did they offer to repair it?”
“Yeah, and they told me I needed new struts, breaks, and tires.”
Gavin started laughing. “I’m going to wash this out thoroughly, and then check your struts and breaks. I can tell you right now, you don’t need new tires, but I’ll look at everything else.”
An hour later, a very greasy Gavin dropped the hood and said triumphantly, “Anne, nothing is wrong with your car. This baby has many more pageant trips in its future.”
She smiled ecstatically. Jumping up and down, she said, “I’d hug you but you’re a mess, kid!”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. I have to go to work anyway.”
My mother thanked him endlessly before going into the house to start dinner.
After she left, Gavin and I stood there staring at each other from opposite ends of the garage.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“I know.”
I walked toward him wearing a pale-pink, long-sleeved leotard and gray sweats. “I don’t care about the grease.” I jumped up and hugged him, throwing my arms around his neck. Near his ear, I said. “But next time we hang out . . . we hang out.”
He put me down and smiled. “Deal, Monkey,” he said, poking my nose and leaving a black grease smudge on it.
15. Six Months Ago
GAVIN
Penny kept needling me to go out with Briel, but I wouldn’t bite. My dad was getting sicker and sicker, and Penny wanted me to go on dates? She was out of her mind, but that was nothing new.
“I think it’s in your best interest,” she said.
“Best interest? Are we in a parent-teacher conference? I’m not Milo, P. It’s me.”
“I know, but you’ve been hanging around the house so much and you know . . . it’s just a little weird.”
> “And what? Is Dickhead getting jealous?”
“Don’t do that.”
We were standing outside Milo’s school selling tickets to some stupid PTA thing. Everyone was giving me dirty looks. Some lady who Penny referred to as “The Ice Queen” walked up.
“Who’s this, Penelope?” she asked as she looked me up and down.
“Milo’s uncle,” Penny said indifferently.
“The incarcerated uncle?”
Penny laughed. “Not anymore.”
There was never an incarcerated uncle. I didn’t know what the hell this Ice Queen was talking about—or why Penny was rolling with it.
What a piece of work this woman was. Weirdly enough, I still would have fucked her. She was cute, in an impish way. She had a three-year-old on her hip who was clearly outgrowing her, and she was dressed absurdly for school drop-off in spiky high heels and a tight, red spandex dress.
“I like your aviators, Teresa,” Penny said in a sincere tone, even though I knew she was being sarcastic.
“Sooo, do you want one ticket for six dollars or two for ten?” I asked. “We also have raffle tickets for a dollar. The grand prize is one week at bitch rehab.”
Penny gasped. Teresa turned her skinny nose up at me, turned on her heel, and walked away.
“Really, Gavin? This is Milo’s school. I know you wanted to get out of the house today but you can’t go around sending snotty women to bitch rehab.”
“I was thinking we could go to a strip club or something. Not sell fundraiser tickets to smug moms.”
“It’s eight thirty in the morning—and I’m a mom!” Even though she hated labels, she always put a lot of emphasis on the word mom.
“Who was that woman anyway?”
“Her kid’s in Milo’s class. She’s nice sometimes but when she’s with her little cronies, she acts like she doesn’t know who I am. She’s just insecure.”
I was making eyes at another woman in line and only partially listening to Penny. “What was the deal with the incarcerated uncle thing?”
“Blame that one.” She pointed to a Spanish-looking dark-haired bombshell in the back of the line—the mom I’d been checking out. “She asked about you when you came to the performing arts showcase last year. I told her you went to jail.”
The hot mom was still checking me out as she got closer to the front of the line. “Are you trying to sabotage everything for me, P? I could have fun with someone like her.”
“She’s married. Kind of a hussy, though. She probably has hep C.”
“You’re so judgmental. No wonder why you have no friends here.”
“I have friends. Ling’s my friend.”
“Ling lives in another state.”
“And I like Crystal, my neighbor. You’ll meet her in a bit. We’ve been to a couple of happy hours together.”
“What does ‘been to a happy hour’ mean?” The hot mom came up to the table and I turned my full attention to her. “Hellooooo,” I said, smiling wide.
“I need two tickets to parents night.” She looked me up and down but I couldn’t tell if she liked what she saw, or if she was intimidated by the prison thing.
“Do you need a date for it?” I asked.
She giggled. She was still into me despite my fake criminal record. Handing over a wad of cash, she let her hand linger in mine for a few seconds longer than necessary. Penny fake-sneezed on our connected hands. The woman pulled out of my grasp and scowled at Penny.
“Oh, sorry. Better wash up; I’ve had an icky cold for a month now. Thanks for supporting the PTA. See you soon!”
As the hot mom walked away, I turned to Penny. “You have no shame.”
“Always playing with fire, Gavin. I told you, she’s married.”
“So are you. It’s more fun to play with fire.”
“Don’t be that guy.” She elbowed me in the side. “Here comes Crystal.” A thin, slightly disheveled woman in her forties walked up and hugged Penny.
“Morning, lovely. I haven’t seen you in a while,” Crystal said.
“Crystal, this is Gavin.” Penny jutted a thumb at me.
“Oh, hey. Penny’s told me a lot about you.”
I can’t imagine what Penny would say about me. Probably nothing nice. I smiled. “Really? Huh. Well, nice to meet you.” I shook her hand. Immediately, I knew Crystal wasn’t the type to be intimidated easily, or be jealous. That’s exactly the kind of friend Penny needed.
“Let’s get a drink soon,” she said to Penny.
“Yes, soon,” Penny replied.
IN THE CAR on the way home I said, “Why didn’t you make a concrete plan with Crystal? That’s what you have to do to maintain friendships.”
“Don’t worry about me. Crystal’s divorced with four kids. She’s really cool but she’s got a lot going on. I’ll see her when I see her.”
It started to snow and the roads were slick with ice. “Slow down,” I told her. “Nice way to drop in that detail about her being divorced, by the way. But you know she’s not my type.”
“Why? Because she doesn’t look like a supermodel or a tatted-up emo chick?”
“Slow the fuck down, Penny, you’re scaring me. Pull over, please, and let me drive.”
She huffed and puffed as she pulled into a parking lot. “Why do you think I’m such a bad driver?”
“Because you are a bad driver. You’ve been in four car accidents in the last two years.”
“Fender benders.”
“Just get out and let me drive.”
She did but seemed annoyed about it. I always felt weird driving her car, but I was more concerned for my life than her ego at the moment.
Pulling into the driveway of her house, I noticed her husband’s Lexus was parked at the curb. “What’s he doing here?” I asked.
“He lives here. I guess he got off work early. Don’t freak out. I texted him and told him you were with me.”
I felt like if he walked into the garage and saw me getting out of the driver’s side, things would get very awkward.
He opened the inner garage door leading to the kitchen just as Penny and I reached it. He hadn’t seen me coming out of the car, which was a relief. “Hey Gavin, thanks for helping Penny out with the PTA stuff. I really wish that I had more time for that kind of thing.”
Penny and I just blinked up at him on the other side of the threshold.
“No problem,” I said.
“Yeah, you know, my job doesn’t really give me that much time off. Gotta provide for the family and all.”
He was so smug sometimes. It was fucking obnoxious. I glanced over at Penny, who looked bored. Her mind was somewhere else. I threw my hands up. “Well, I better be going. I’ll head out this way.” I pointed at the still-open garage door leading to the driveway.
“Yeah, I came home for lunch and thought Penny and I could sneak in some husband-and-wife time before our son gets home.”
I already said I was leaving, you fucker. Always pouring salt in the wound.
“See you, P,” I said without looking at her. “Peace, man,” I said to her smug-ass husband. I know you won, asshole. No need to rub it in. I walked quickly out of the garage and as soon as my foot hit the driveway, the automatic garage door began closing.
Two hours later, I got a text from Penny.
Penny: Sorry about earlier. That was weird.
Me: Whatever. It’s fine. I threw up a little in my mouth when he said “husband and wife time” though. Please tell me he doesn’t call it a marriage bed.
Penny: LOL
Pennyloyalty . . .
16. Fourteen Years Ago
PENNY
I could feel and smell spring coming on. The snow was melting, my feet didn’t ache as much anymore, and my muscles weren’t as sore. Joey and I had three weeks until our finals performance but we were ready.
After practice I met Ling for a drink and then stopped at Pete’s on my way home to see if Gavin was working. We studied together often but h
e was still seeing Lottie . . . so there was that.
“Hey,” he said, walking toward my car. “What’s up? Where’ve you been lately?”
I rolled the window down and stuck my head out. “Just practicing a lot.”
“I’m off in ten. You want to get a bite?”
“I just stopped by to say hi.”
He rolled his eyes. “Hi, okay. Now let’s go eat.” He waved to Pete. “Hey man, are we good?” Pete nodded, letting Gavin know he could leave. Reaching for my driver-side door handle he said, “Scoot over, let me drive.”
I crawled over the center console into the passenger seat. He glanced at my body and down to my bare feet, wrapped in tape. “What?” I said.
“Aren’t your feet cold?”
“No, they’re burning up. I had a gross infection on my big toe.”
“You look banged up and a little too thin, P.”
I looked out the window, avoiding eye contact. “No such thing in dance. Just drive.”
“But you have to be strong.”
I turned and glared at him. “Drop it, please.”
“We’re going to get burgers. One burger is not going to make you fat.”
He had a bandage on his lower neck, peeking from the neckband of his sweatshirt. “Please tell me you didn’t get a neck tattoo.” He unzipped his hoodie, lifted his white T-shirt, and pulled a bandage from the left side of his chest, revealing a tattoo of the exact “L” that Laverne wore on her sweaters in Laverne and Shirley.
He smiled. “For Lottie.”
I shook my head. “That is Laverne’s ‘L.’ ”
“I know. Isn’t it funny?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just drive.”
Pulling his shirt down and laughing, he put the car in gear and drove onto the main road. “You jealous?”
“Not at all.”
WE WENT TO a place that had a million different kinds of burgers and beers; it was mostly famous for the buffalo burgers. The mere thought made me nauseous but it was one of Gavin’s favorite places. I ordered a turkey burger, no bun, with a side salad and a light beer.
“A French fry is not going to kill you.” He tried feeding me one but I waved his hand away.
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