Smash It!

  I don’t know what old people do after they get old—besides work at Universal Studios and give advice to teenage girls who can go their whole life without doing anything bad and then royally screw it all up in three months.

  I’m crying, and my sister is freaking out.

  “Not because you’re gay,” I say between tears. “Because I’m a really horrible person.”

  It takes me a while to calm down, and then I start crying again, because I realized I totally ruined my sister’s coming-out moment.

  “You’ve been ruining my moment since you were born. I’m used to it. Besides, everyone knows I’m gay—I think I was trying to make it a thing because my friends keep telling me it should be a thing.” She leans on the counter, watching me, and I realize I really don’t know a whole lot about my sister. I think that I do, but I’m totally oblivious about everything going on in her life.

  Dré was right. I am selfish.

  She nudges me and hands me another napkin. “So. Why are you a horrible person?” She gets up and opens the fridge, and she pulls out an entire key lime pie. I could hug her. But I don’t, because she hands me a fork and this pie is better than a hug. That’s why she made it. She’s always known how to show me she loves me, but what do I do to show her? I don’t even know what she does for a living—I should, but every time she says digital marketing, I turn on the mute button like an asshole.

  “You going to tell me or not?” she says, settling in next to me.

  I start in on the pie because I don’t know how to tell my sister that I appreciate her more than life itself right now. I don’t know how to say anything but “Things happened, and now my friends all hate me.”

  Amber looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Things don’t just happen.” She sighs. “This is like that time I walked in and you were gluing hair back on to your Barbie and you said, ‘It just fell out.’” Leave it to my sister to bring up the past while I’m drowning in the present. “Well?”

  She’s like a dog with a bone. When she grabs on to something, she won’t let go, so I take a deep breath and pray this is exactly like the time she helped give my Barbies cute bobs after I hacked up their hair.

  “I had sex with Dré,” I say with a mouth full of pie.

  She’s nodding even as her eyebrows go waaaaay up on the top of her head. “Wow, this took a wild turn. Your Dré?”

  “My Dré.”

  She smiles with gritted teeth. “How’d Eli take it?”

  I’m gaping. Why is that her first question? Why isn’t she asking how I took it? It was my first time, and she’s asking about Eli. I say as much, and she’s waving me off.

  “Because Eli’s been into you since y’all were running through the house acting like the wizards and shit. Y’all are weird as fuck, but I try not to judge.” She’s a bold-faced liar. She judges everything and everyone. But I don’t say that. I just tell her the whole story.

  Everything, and I leave no detail untold. I’m done with the whole pie by the time I’m getting to the part where I completely dragged Eli’s family through the dirt.

  She only stopped me when I talked about Gloria and Yosef. She was kinda shocked by that turn of events. She was also a little wary of Lennox because, though she thinks Lennox gives some good advice, my sister is just as much of a prude as I am. She comments on how I shouldn’t pay Cleo any attention, because she’s always been a tad stuck-up, and she thinks I should have snatched Angelina’s edges, until I tell her about the part where I put her on blast in front of everyone, and then her jaw drops.

  “Damn, Liv. You went HAM on that bitch.” She’s licking her fork. “Hate to tell you,” she says, putting her fork in the empty pie container, “you should probably start handing out some apologies.”

  I groan. “I already sorta apologized to Angelina.”

  Amber sucks her teeth. “Ain’t nobody talking about that bitch. She asked for that. I’m talking about your friends.” My sister has a way of puckering her lips that says if I don’t take her advice, she’s going to judge the hell out of me. “I’m not saying there isn’t a lot of blame to go around. But is that really how you want to leave things?”

  She’s right. I can’t help but think my Year of Fuck It needed to come with some cautionary notes. Like, Don’t say Fuck It to using one best friend to get over the other, and so much more. And just because I didn’t like everything about me before doesn’t mean there was nothing to love.

  I can’t help but think about Jackie and her damn love affirmations, and Al telling me to do things for myself.

  “Good judgment comes from a string of fuckups,” I say. “Al told me that.” I miss Al; he’d probably have saved me from half of the mess I got into—then again, I probably wouldn’t have told him half of the crap I was doing, because he’s still Al.

  “Wait, who the hell is Al?”

  “He’s the old guy I work with.”

  “Oh lord. I can’t. This is too much. It’s two in the morning, and you have school. Go to bed and please stop talking to old men.”

  I cackle and my sister flicks my forehead. We don’t really hug. We have other ways of saying I love you.

  I do head up to my room, because she’s right. I have a lot of apologies to hand out, but I have no idea where to start. The list is still on my floor—my room has been a complete mess since rehearsals started, so it’s not out of place down there.

  My once clean cream-colored dresser with the succulent that was supposed to make my space look chic and minimal is now covered in clothes that are either clean or dirty—I can barely make out my purple rug under the mess of papers I dumped off my bed a few days ago.

  But all crumpled up on top is my list.

  I pick it up and smooth it out. So much has happened since I wrote those first words, Do the things that scare me. I started this for myself—but I forgot to love myself in the process. I don’t think I’ve ever truly known how.

  I grab a pen. I’m not going to quit. I’m changing, and I’m fucking up, but that’s no reason to quit.

  11. LOVE FIRST—ESPECIALLY MYSELF.

  ACT FIVE

  ACT FIVE—Scene Two—

  Bedroom

  Iago: (Center Stage—freeze—spotlight)

  The past is riddled with missteps, but I

  regret nothing.

  Dear Liv,

  We need to talk

  Dear Liv,

  We both said some fucked up shit

  Dear Liv,

  I regret everything.

  Chapter 32

  It’s one week to showtime, and Mrs. G is having conniptions. One of the mics is dead, three of the lights aren’t working, a flute player is missing from the pit and the heat in the theatre went out. We’ve all got sweaters on over our costumes, and it’s so cold my bones hurt.

  It doesn’t snow in Florida, but that doesn’t mean it’s not cold in February. It’s 40 degrees outside and it feels lower than that in the theatre.

  The HVAC went out sometime during school, but no one noticed until all the maintenance people left. Most of us are bunched together in the big dressing room for warmth between sets. Eli’s leaning on the corner by the door, earphones in, eyes closed. Half the cast is on the floor, bunched together, talking quietly, while I’m in the back next to Jackie and Lennox, trying to work up my nerve to apologize to my girls.

  Because I’m super classy and suave, I just blurt it out. “I’m sorry I was being a bitch.”

  Jackie turns around, and she’s rubbing her bony arms. “Damn, girl, took you long enough.” She smiles. “I wasn’t even that mad. I just thought you’d lost your damn mind.”

  “I kind of did.”

  Lennox moves closer, too. “I’m glad you found it.” She wraps her finger around one of my curls to fix it. “You doing all right?”

  There are friends you make who don’t dese
rve you, and then friends you make that you don’t deserve. These two are the latter, and I can’t believe I met them by chance. Then again, maybe nothing happens by chance.

  I got to know them because I said yes.

  “I had a pity party, drank too much iced tea, watched too many Spanish soaps.”

  Jackie is jumping up and down now, still rubbing her arms. “You know you didn’t have the time to watch no damn soaps.” Her face kind of lights up, and then she pulls her phone out. “BITCH.” She’s smiling from ear to ear. “I didn’t tell you. I got my gold plaque from YouTube.” She shows me the video of her unwrapping it and screaming. A million people think Jackie is bomb enough to follow.

  I don’t blame them. She’s crazy talented. She’s been living her own version of Fuck It, and more than a million people have showed up to love her for it.

  She pulls a face. “I mean, Mrs. G still gave me a B on my project because it was vain, but she can’t steal my light.” She elbows Lennox. “This chick got the highest grade in the class though.”

  I’m so proud of them that now we’re all jumping and hugging. Everyone else is staring at us like we’re crazy, but a few join in, and then we’re a room of about fifteen people packed in tight, hopping and whooping until Mrs. G comes in screaming that she can’t hear the stage.

  When she leaves, we all laugh quietly. It’s funny—I didn’t get the family feeling in band, but here I do. I spent so much time living a life that wasn’t mine but was picked for me that I almost missed out on this.

  I catch Eli’s eyes. He looks down at his phone.

  Lennox never misses anything. “Y’all should get on the same page.”

  “We need to find the same book first.” I still can’t believe what I said to him. I can’t believe what I said to Dré either. I’d blame it on being momentarily possessed, but I know I said those things because I was scared of saying the truth; that I was in love and heartbroken.

  I’ve been angry with Eli for not saying anything to me when I didn’t tell him how I felt either. I wanted him to take the risk when I wasn’t willing to. I’m a sucky coward—or maybe I’m a really good one. Either way, I’m scared we won’t even make it to an apology. I don’t see how he’ll forgive me after I made him out to be some kind of monster.

  Eli’s last on my list anyway. I ranked everyone from easy to holy fuck maybe I can still move to another state.

  Next on my list is Kai. He’s been chilly with me since he found out I slept with Dré. In hindsight, I see that telling him I’d give him an answer and then hiding from him for a week, sleeping with Dré, and not saying anything at all was kind of low.

  He was honest with me from the start, and he deserved that in return.

  I try to catch him after rehearsal as he heads to his car. “Kai?”

  He looks up and waves. “Hey.” He’s still actually really nice for a guy who was jilted. “Need a ride?” This would be easier if he’d followed that up with Too bad or Then ask someone who cares. But of course he doesn’t, because he’s Kai.

  “No.” I’m pointing behind me and just standing here like that was all I came to say.

  He’s scratching his head and looking around because he’s too polite to point out how much of a weirdo I’m being.

  “So, I actually wanted to apologize.” Oh. My. God. I’m slapping my hands together and swinging them around. I never do this. I stop and try putting them in the pockets of my coat.

  Kai, bless him, smiles and nods like he just realized he picked a crazy girl to get messed up with. “Nah, it’s cool.”

  “No. You were really awesome, and I got—I was a virgin, and I think that freaked me out a little—the idea of casual sex. I really wanted to though.” Fuck me. I have to stop vomiting words. “Have sex with you that is.” Somebody gag me. I should have written out a script. I can’t be trusted to improvise.

  Kai steps over and gives me a quick hug. I think he’s hoping I’ll just stop talking; it’s a very friendly hug. “Really. It’s okay. Life is complicated. I get that. We’re cool if you’re cool.”

  No, Kai. No one is as cool are you are. Jesus. “You’re—pretty awesome.”

  We’re not hugging anymore, and he’s opening his car door. “Sure you don’t need a ride?” He’s looking around again, but his concern mellows out when he sees Lennox. I realize I wasn’t even pointing at her car before. I was pointing into the empty part of the parking lot, lit up by orange light and mist. Wow.

  I wave him off with this weird smile on my face, like I’m the local, easygoing, chummy Girl Scout. I really need to work on this—apologizing. He’s touched my boobs and way more, so I don’t know why I’m acting like this but I can’t shake the freak off me.

  Lennox pretty much laughs at me. She didn’t hear the conversation, but she asks why I was swinging my arms like I was getting ready for an Olympic swimming competition. Truthfully, I’d rather do that all over again than face the next person on my list.

  * * *

  Dress rehearsal is both super exciting and so anxiety filled, I keep going to the bathroom, thinking I have to pee. We’re in full performance mode, running the show from start to finish, and Mrs. G looks like she might keel over. We’re not doing bad, but we’re not doing our best either. We keep making little mistakes here and there: a missed line, music delays, small stuff, but to Mrs. G, it’s huge.

  Dré and I are talking a little in the wing waiting for his cue. But the conversation is stiff, and this isn’t the place I want to get into how sorry I am.

  I don’t get a chance to be alone with him until I find him putting away his costume. He sees me and makes this face, saying he recognizes my presence but he has nothing to say.

  “Can we talk?”

  He keeps his eyes fixed on his costume like it’s going to fall off the hanger by itself, but after a moment he relents and looks at me.

  “What I did—I wish I could take it back. Everything I said and what I did.” By now I should be good at apologizing. My voice shouldn’t shake, and I should be able to look him in the eye.

  “So you regret everything?” He’s picking lint off the sleeve of his costume. “All of it?” His forehead is creased.

  “Not everything.”

  He’s looking at me again, and I know he’s going to make me say it.

  “Not the first time.”

  He exhales and drops the sleeve. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you come over? I’m trying to figure out how we went from being cool and having our rules to you—you looked like you were going to cry.” He paces the floor and messes up his hair, running his hands back and forth over it. He groans. “I don’t get it.”

  I’m wiping away tears, because I know I don’t deserve to have them, and crying is the kind of thing I do behind closed doors. But I feel ugly. Like what I did tainted me. I didn’t want to be casual because I didn’t want Kai to use me. Then I did the thing that scared me to my best friend.

  “I’m sorry.” I stop talking, because I can’t between the sobs. My hands are shaking and I’m covering my face, because even I can’t stand myself right now.

  Dré’s hands are over mine, and then he’s pulling me into him. I can’t stop sobbing. I’m getting snot all over his shirt. I’ve always taken Dré for granted—mostly because I thought he’d get too cool for me and stop being my friend.

  We stand in the middle of the room until my breath stops hitching. I keep praying no one else comes in. A few people do, but as soon as they see us, they leave, and I’m glad my face is in Dré’s chest and not exposed to half the damn theatre department.

  He wants to know why, and he deserves the truth.

  “I didn’t want to be lame anymore.”

  His cheek is on the top of my head and I feel his “hmm?” as much as I hear it.

  I tell him about the Year of Fuck It. I start with Halloween, and I feel like I
’ve told this story so many times, but this is the first time I’m telling one of the people who’s been with me through it all; someone who means the world to me. I can’t remember why I didn’t tell him in the first place. I feel like I haven’t changed at all.

  Dré sits with me on the floor, and he listens without saying a word.

  “I thought I’d come out at the end of it this confident chick in control of my life. I don’t know why the hell Shonda Rhimes was allowed to publish that book, because it ruined my life.”

  Dré laughs. “You weren’t lame.”

  “I wore khakis and a hoodie to a Halloween party! That’s as sad as it gets.” I’m picking at my shoelaces, my face feels hot, and I sound weird.

  “Yeah, but that’s just you.” Dré slides his hand over mine and intertwines our fingers. “If you had to go through all this to realize you’re special, fine. But you were then, and you are now.”

  Christ. I’m crying again. I’ve always wanted a guy to tell me that. I’ve daydreamed all the scenarios, and in all of them I end up on cloud nine, kissing under fireworks—I watch a lot of rom-coms. I’ve got to get my shit together, because with my record of missing the mark on monumental moments, my wedding day will be in hell and I’ll be surrounded by freaky bug-eyed dolls.

  I’ve got the world record in puffy face right now. I’m not an ugly crier, but tears don’t fall from my eyes in epically cinematic ways either. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. It’s okay. I should have—I should have stuck to the rules, too. I love you, but I want you to be happy—that’s not with me.” His breath hitches, and then he says, “I knew you and Eli were into each other—I convinced myself you weren’t. You were talking to Kai, and I figured I was making shit up in my head.”

  I meet his eyes, because I’ve been wondering for a while now... “Did you invite Kara to the movies to set them up together?”

  Dré rolls his eyes. “Maybe. She heard me invite Alex and asked if Eli was going—which, obviously—and I kinda wanted to see if my hunch was right.” He lets out a long breath. “I never knew for sure how he felt about you, and I would have asked, but we both know how that would have gone. It’s just not fair that everything I do has to revolve around if Eli agrees or not.” He looks at me. “I meant what I said. I meant everything that I’ve said. But most of all, I want you to be happy.”