Smash It!

by Francina Simone

  Ugh. I don’t mean that. I don’t want him to drown in a make-believe ocean. I just want him to look at me so I can glare and tell him to fuck off.

  I’m obnoxiously petty, but I don’t care. He’s trying to shame me and my sexuality. He’s trying to un-liberate my lady parts because he didn’t have the balls to make a move.

  After an hour of yelling at us, Mrs. G sends the girls to get fitted. “Ladies, take this time to compose yourselves. If I pull out any more of my hairs, I’ll be as ugly as a newborn baby.”

  I really think this woman might have a stroke. She’s always yelling.

  Lennox is in the big dressing room, getting her measurements taken by a lady volunteering to adjust some of the old costumes.

  “She’s always screaming and threatening us. Just get used to it.” Lennox lifts her arms. “Why you got that look on your face now?”

  I turn away from the door just as Eli walks by to get his sword from the props room. On his way back to the stage, his eyes flicker toward me, and I pretend not to notice. I don’t tell Lennox why I’m slamming my books on a table while reorganize my book bag until it’s just her and Jackie in the dressing room.

  “He called me a slut.”

  Lennox raises her eyebrows.

  “Which nigga?” Jackie says like she’s about to step outside and fight whoever he is. She looks like she’s trying to run down the list of this week’s rumors to figure out if she already knows my particular situation. Angelina hasn’t been running her mouth since I aired all her dirty laundry, and Markus was caught in the props closet with his pants down again, so people have pretty much moved on from me. Besides—no one knows what went down except Eli and me.

  I tell them about the party. I leave out the fact that Eli called Dré’s mom a homewrecker and most of the argument. They don’t need to know the gritty details, because to be honest, Eli and I still have that secret space. So I just tell them, “He asked why not him, and I told him because he didn’t tell me he liked me. Then he asked if Dré and I were together, and pretty much said I was a slut for putting out but not being with Dré.”

  Jackie leans away from me like she can’t believe it. “The audacity. Oh, hell no. Hell. No.” She puts away her costume and puts her hands on her hips. “Your first time was beautiful and I’ll be damned if we let that salty punk decide the criteria for you to share your body.”

  Lennox claps her hands. “Preach, bitch.”

  Usually I’m the first one to tell Jackie not to talk all loud, but the way she and Lennox are looking at me makes me feel good. It’s better to be angry with two other people than just myself. We’re like an unstoppable wave of girl fury.

  * * *

  We’re halfway through January rehearsals, and I feel like we’ve hit an all-time low. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and Mrs. G is having Kai and Eli go over the same scene again and again. We have one other scene to get through tonight, but she won’t move on until Eli gets this one right. It’s already been an hour, and the rest of us are being punished for it.

  “Mr. Peretz,” she says, taking off her glasses. She only wears them when she’s tired. I don’t know why she’s torturing herself; she should just call off this damn play and let us all get on with our lives.

  Eli looks up at the ceiling before turning to her. A piece of me—the one that has known Eli for years and can feel his helplessness—feels bad. I knew from his body language the moment he got frustrated. He’s stumbling over his lines and taking these deep breaths like he’s trying not to lose it.

  Kai’s scratching the back of his neck, and even he’s starting to lose patience with Eli. “Dude.”

  “I know,” Eli says. “I know.”

  The whole auditorium is quiet. It’s like we’re all taking the heat right now—this is painful.

  “Well, we’re all waiting for you to show us that,” Mrs. G says as he stares at the floor. She takes a deep breath. “I’m giving you until tomorrow. Whatever is in your head, get it out.” She gestures for them to get offstage and calls up Lennox and Jackie.

  “’Bout damn time,” Jackie says. They’ve been giving Eli the cold shoulder since I told them what he said, but I can tell she’s only saying it for my sake because her heart’s not really in it. Neither is mine. When they pass Eli as he comes into the gallery with the rest of us, she says something to him, and he shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

  He looks at me and Dré, and his face gets stone-cold again as he passes our row and sits in the way back.

  “He’s been acting like a little bitch. I get that he’s pissed about us, but he was acting like this before that.” Dré still has no idea what happened at Eli’s house. He thinks Eli called his mom a homewrecker because Dré’s dad’s not in the picture and she’s a big flirt. I don’t have the heart to tell him, and it’s not my story to tell anyway.

  “Still not a reason to call me a slut,” I grumble.

  Dré looks at me. “What?” he whispers, because Mrs. G might snap our necks if we make noise while Jackie’s doing her monologue.

  I never told him what happened with Eli and me, but I do now.

  He looks back at Eli and puts his arm around me. “Don’t let that shit get to you. He’s taking out his little bitch feelings on you.” He grinds his teeth and squeezes me closer.

  I lean my head on his shoulder. I can feel Eli’s eyes on us, and I know he’s probably making up something in his head about what this means. But as mad as I am, I just want to cry.

  Chapter 28

  I’m trying on my costume with Lennox in the small dressing room. For a whore, Bianca wore an awful lot of layers. Fuck. I’m judging her the same way Eli judged me. She was probably just some chick who liked a guy and didn’t wait around for him to finally pop the question before deciding to have sex—like that’s a crime.

  I’m starting to like Shakespeare less and less these days. “You know what,” I say to Lennox as she checks the hem on her dress. “Dudes are the worst.”

  “Eh,” she says, shrugging. “I think there are good people and assholes. Just have to figure out which is which.”

  I ignore her, because she’s being way too rational and we still have an hour before we break for early dinner. I’m hungry and feeling a little self-righteous. “No, they think because they write you songs and hold some undying love for you, you owe them something.”

  “Undying love?” She kind of laughs and takes off her dress to put back on the rack.

  “He didn’t say anything. Ever.” I’m thinking back to when he wrote me a song for Christmas in the eighth grade. Now that I think about it, it was kind of lovey-dovey, but it was also about friends on a road trip. We were so dead set on taking a road trip to Key West; we couldn’t wait to get our licenses. We thought we were going to do a lot of stuff by this time.

  But that was just the start of things—he started making me playlists in ninth grade. He showed me his poetry in tenth grade, and the more I think about it...maybe he’s liked me even longer than I’ve liked him.

  “We’re talking about Eli again?” Lennox says it like I’m always talking about Eli—okay, I am. But I’m also stuck with him every day until almost 8:00 at night. We obviously don’t ride to and from school together anymore, because he drives his mom’s car now. Which makes me wonder if his mom is back home. Whatever. I’m not even invested. I don’t care.

  I don’t.

  “I was talking about Shakespeare,” I say.

  Lennox helps me take off my dress and puts it on the hanger. “So I was kinda talking to Eli yesterday in the wings. Did he say the word slut?”

  First of all, why was she talking to our sworn enemy? Second, since when does one have to say it, as long as it’s implied? “He said he couldn’t believe I put out to Dré and we’re not even together.” I’m waiting for her to get back on the hate-Eli train, but she’s still stalling.


  “That’s not the same thing,” she says, putting my dress on the rack.

  I’m about to hit Lennox over the head with a hanger, because she’s lost her goddamn mind.

  “O. Think about it from his perspective. He’s liked you for years, writing you songs and doing sweet shit. Then you sleep with his best friend for fun—don’t look at me like that, I agree there is nothing wrong with that—so it can also be inferred that he’s simply disappointed. Heartbroken and really in his feelings about it? I mean, pick one, but whichever you pick is more likely than him simply calling you a slut.”

  “Our best friend.”

  She’s looking at me like that doesn’t matter, and I get that it doesn’t, but neither does Eli’s perspective. I’m not even going to waste my time arguing with Lennox, because she has that look on her little freckled face that says she thinks she’s right, and she’s not always right. At least not about this.

  When I get home, I just want to shower and sleep. I have to read a book for English and learn new sheet music for band, but I think I might just drop out of high school after the play, because I am exhausted. Fuck it, not all assignments need to be done, and why do I always have to be the one ready in band class when half the other flutes still can’t figure out how to tune their fucking instruments?

  My mom calls me into her room. She’s sitting up on her bed, surrounded by papers. The TV light flickers off her reading glasses. “How was rehearsal?”

  I show her my most dramatic I’m dying face, and she pats the bed next to her. I kick off my shoes and climb in, curling up on her pillows and thick duvet.

  “I think you’ll be proud once it’s all said and done.” She’s got her hair pinned up in curls, and even though she’s got work stacked up around her and is probably just as tired as I am, she isn’t pouting like me.

  I let out a breath. “You’re right.” I indulge in her pillows a little longer, rubbing my face on the soft cotton.

  “Stop rubbing your greasy face on my pillows.”

  I laugh. “Why you so mean?”

  She smiles. “Hey.” She hits me with a piece of paper. “How is Eli doing? I haven’t seen y’all running around like usual. Gloria said Dré and Eli are still at odds, too.”

  I shrug. I’ve stolen a page from Dré’s book; I’m a vault.

  “What you mean, you don’t know.”

  Technically I didn’t say anything, but I do this time. “I don’t know.”

  Her eyebrows go up and her mouth gets kind of small. “You haven’t thought to ask?”

  She has no idea how many times I’ve asked him since everything happened. I know she doesn’t know why we’re not talking anymore, but I’m mad at her for being mad at me.

  “His feelings aren’t my responsibility,” I say. I feel a little good, because she’s taken aback.

  “So that’s how I raised you?”

  I mean, yes. I am who I am right now, so it’s a dumb question, but I’m not about to tell her that. I mess up and roll my eyes, because I’m sleepy and dirty and I need to wash my hair. I don’t have time for this.

  She shrugs with her eyebrows way at the top of her head. “Whatever. Can’t tell nobody nothing.” I’ve disappointed her. Whatever.

  I get up, but even though my mother pretends to acquiesce, she doesn’t really, because she’s like me and we never stop talking once we think we’re making a point.

  “You might not be responsible for someone’s feelings, but how you act and how you choose to behave says a lot about you. Your friend is hurting, and you know what his home life looks like right now. The choices you make can affect someone else’s entire life.”

  Oh. My. God. She always does this. She takes something small and turns it into something it’s not. I just placate her with a bunch of agreements and escape.

  I’m actually low-key pissed. Why is my choice to have sex with Dré tantamount to affecting Eli’s entire life? Dré had sex with Lennox, and we’re all friends. I’m still kinda grossed out by it and prefer not to think about it at all, but I’m not stomping around acting like Dré’s virginity should have been mine. But somehow me sleeping with Dré is the equivalent of me cheating on Eli just because he liked me?

  It’s hypocrisy. I know my mom doesn’t know she’s making a double standard, but I feel like the world is.

  Chapter 29

  I’m sharing a cupcake with Dré. Mrs. G had some leftover in her office and we stopped by at lunch to get one. There was one left. Out of twenty. People are so damn greedy.

  We’re walking to our usual spot by the staircase, taking turns licking the frosting. It’s kind of stupid. We’re in competition to see who is the most generous so we keep taking these tiny bites.

  Then he’s trying to shove the whole thing in his mouth.

  “DRÉ.” I’ve got both his hands pulling the cupcake away from his mouth but he’s stronger than me.

  We’re laughing, but I’m serious. If he eats the whole thing, I’m going to sucker punch him. I’ve been thinking about it all day—the cupcake.

  “Okay, okay,” he says. He takes a small bite and gives me the rest. “I was going to give it to you anyway, damn.”

  His hand is on my waist and lingering. I’m licking the icing off first, and he watches me with his hooded eyes. Lust cloud.

  “Oh my god,” I snap at him. “We have rules.”

  He smiles. “For the spank bank.”

  I pretend to be bothered but I’m laughing again. Fuck it, I like this confidence. I like not looking away. I’m getting better at enjoying the attention and letting it wash over me instead of deflecting it with dumb jokes.

  We’re sitting on the staircase and back to arguing about Marvel movies. Dré’s super into Marvel heroes, and I like making up stupid fake-facts about them and defending them until he pulls out his phone to Google the truth. He always shoves his phone in my face like, See. You’re wrong. Ironman’s father was the Stark who made Captain’s shield. Not Dr. Strange traveling into the past. He’s a magician, not a con man. He gets so mad when I start laughing.

  “Liv, why do you do that?” He pinches my thigh but it doesn’t hurt. I’m wondering if he did it just to touch me there.

  The time we spend together is what I live for these days. It’s the only time I’m not actively thinking about Eli—or looking for his face in the crowd. He’s avoiding us just as much as we’re avoiding him; I can’t tell if I’m mad or sad about it.

  I don’t like feeling anything about it.

  Another day goes by and another until the need to get away from those feelings is what has me standing in front of Dré’s house. We have the day off because it’s a holiday, and even Mrs. G. doesn’t make us rehearse on MLK Jr. Day. Dré answers the door still in his pajamas. We’re both tired. He’s been working really hard on the play, and I’m actually surprised that he’s keeping up with schoolwork. I had to copy his math homework. I’ve really fallen on hard times. Returning his homework is the excuse I use when he opens the door.

  But when I’m standing in his room, watching him put his papers in a folder, I’m at this do-or-die moment and I just say, Fuck it.

  I hook my finger in his sweats and pull him away from his desk.

  He’s looking at me with sleepy eyes but waking up really fast. “We have rules,” he says.

  Fuck the rules. I don’t want to keep thinking about Eli. I don’t want to keep feeling bad every time I see him alone or remember that his blinds have been closed for weeks and weeks.

  I do the breathing thing, and I see him going from Dré to Dré who’s definitely lost in lust land. I feel like I have this power, an ability that has him entranced. I’m Black Widow, and the Hulk is putty in my hands.

  His hands are around my waist and we’re kissing before we get to the bed. The majority of me is enjoying this. His hands are all over me, and we’re taking our
time. The first two times were kind of hurried with lots of fast breathing and needing.

  This time he’s staring into my eyes and we’re hugging and holding on to each other.

  Then it hits me.

  I just want him to hold me because I’m sad. And he is. He’s holding me and kissing me and giving me so much more like he’s saying it’s going to be all right, and I can’t tell if I’m making all of this up in my head, but it’s kind of twisted and I feel—I just feel sad.

  After, I wrap myself in his sheets and lie on his bed. I don’t want to say anything yet, because I don’t want to start crying and freak him out. I’m kind of freaking out.

  I hear him sigh. We just lie there, not saying anything for the longest time before he rubs my back. “Why’d you come over?”

  I know he’s asking me why did I have sex with him again, but I don’t know if he’s asking because he regrets it, or if he thinks I want something more.

  “To give you your homework back.” I’m such a chickenshit idiot.

  “Liv.” He pulls away and sits up. He’s rubbing his face, and I feel worse because I think it is regret.

  He regrets it.

  The longer I lie in his bed, the worse I feel, so I just start getting dressed.

  “Liv?” Dré’s watching me; the look on his face—I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know why I thought saying fuck the rules was a good idea, but now he’s making me feel like it was the worst thing in the world.

  “Liv, where are you going?”

  “Home.” I can’t look at him. I can’t stand to be in my skin right now. I used him—

  He’s pulling on his pants and trying to help me find my shirt. He finds it first, and when I try to take it, he won’t let go. “Talk to me.”

  “I just wanted to fuck.” The words are out of my mouth, and they aren’t mine, but I can’t tell him I’m here because I didn’t want to think about Eli. That’s twisted beyond belief. I can’t tell him I just wanted him to make me feel good. I can’t say any of that, because he’ll hate me, and I can’t take not having him, too.