I’m shocked. I feel the same way I did when I was six years old and nearly got electrocuted while trying to plug Mom’s hair dryer into an outlet: like I’m gently buzzing all over and my brain has been wiped off with a sponge.
I should have been suspicious when the night started off so well. The planning committee must have blown its budget, because the gym looked excellent, all draped in fake cobwebs and plastic bats that looked spooky in the low light. Everyone loved our costumes, and we posed for a million pictures, holding up our fence. Hannah and Tris and I looked pretty cute, I think. Noelle, who was wearing tiny cutoffs, a straw hat, and a plaid shirt knotted above her belly button, looked hot. Zach was there dressed as a police officer, and I thought he looked obnoxiously into himself, strutting around wearing mirrored aviator glasses with his jaw clenched, but naturally I didn’t tell Hannah that, since she was gazing at him longingly. Then, from across the room, I saw Grady. He was covered in green body paint, and he’d made his hair green somehow. I didn’t get it until Tris told me he must be Slimer from Ghostbusters.
“Are you going to talk to him?” he asked.
“In a second,” I said. My heart was pounding, and I could feel myself blushing.
“The green really works on him,” Tris said.
“You’re not helping,” I said.
“Who are you guys talking about?” Noelle said. “That cute guy over there? Wait, that’s the kid from the pool, right?”
Hannah came back from the snacks table carrying four cupcakes on a paper plate. “Have you talked to him yet?” she asked me.
I was about to answer her when I saw Reese burst through the double doors with her squad trailing behind her, smiling like she was arriving on a red carpet, which in a way, she was. She had on a tight khaki romper unbuttoned to her sternum and high black boots. She carried a black plastic tube and wore a black backpack.
“What is she dressed as?” Tris said breathlessly. He was openly watching her stride across the gym. Everyone was.
Reese has a great walk. Her hips go bam, bam, bam, and she holds herself high, like a string is running through the top of her head up to the ceiling.
“She’s a Ghostbuster!” Hannah said. “She’s a sexy Ghostbuster!”
“That’s a coincidence, when Grady’s . . .” I said, and then I realized.
“They must have planned it,” Noelle said.
When Reese got to Grady, she threw her arms around him. I could see him grinning over her shoulder.
None of us actually gasped, but there was a gasp-like vibe in the air.
“Don’t leave,” I said.
“We won’t,” Tris said.
But we should have left, or at least I should have. Still, show me the normal human who could have turned and walked away without waiting to see what would happen next.
What happened next was, a slow song came on. Reese took Grady’s hand and led him to the center of the dance floor. At first they were swaying back and forth, talking and laughing with their cheeks close, occasionally pulling back to look at each other. Then Reese wrapped her arms tightly around Grady’s neck and put her head on his shoulder. And then she lifted her head up, closed her eyes, and kissed him. He kissed her back, and kissed her back, and kissed her back. They were making out hard-core at the Halloween dance, and it looked so fun and so classically high school, and it could have been me getting green face paint all over my mouth, but it wasn’t, because I’d messed up again.
“I can’t watch this,” I said, staring at Reese and Grady so hard my eyes felt dry.
“Let’s go,” Tris said. “Come on.” He picked up my hand, then Hannah’s, so I grabbed Noelle’s, and the four of us marched toward the exit. I was doing fine at first, but suddenly I could feel the tears coming. I muttered that I’d be right back, and speed-walked to the girls’ locker room. It was shockingly bright in there, after the dimness of the gym. One stall was open, and I locked myself in it and tried to cry as quietly as I could, so no one else would hear. I pulled myself together and dried my face off, but as soon as I’d finished, I started crying again. Finally I finished for real, flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and found Tris and Hannah and Noelle right where I’d left them.
“I hate her,” I said, when we’d gotten outside. “I hate her so much.”
“Yep,” Noelle said.
“I’m sure she doesn’t know you like Grady,” Hannah said.
I’d forgotten for a second that Hannah and Reese are field hockey bros. “Did you know she was dressing up with him?” I asked. “Did she tell you they’re—going out, or whatever?”
“No,” Hannah said, sounding shocked. “I had no idea.”
“Probably because she knew if she told you, you’d tell me,” I said. “And she didn’t want me to know, because then I might have skipped the dance and missed her big make-out party.”
“I can see why you’re upset right now,” Hannah said. “But I think you’re being paranoid. If you got to know Reese, you’d like her.”
I turned to Noelle like, Can you chime in, please?
“Trust me, however bad you think she is, she’s worse,” Noelle said. I could see Hannah wanting to argue back but not wanting to be rude to a relative stranger.
“I’m going to walk home,” I said. “You guys stay and have fun. Text me later.”
“WHAT? No,” Noelle said. “We’re all going back in there and acting like nothing’s wrong.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“Of course you can,” Noelle said. “And our costume is one-quarter suckier if you bail. Don’t be selfish.”
I looked at Tris and Hannah for help, but they were busy staring at Noelle with fear in their eyes. They don’t know her like I do. To them she’s still a mean girl.
“Hang on,” Noelle said to me. “Your nose is smudged.” She pulled a liquid eyeliner out of her bag and fixed me up. After she’d gone to all that effort, it seemed like it would be rude to leave.
We went back in and stayed until almost the end. We posed for more pictures. We danced together. We fake laughed, or maybe the others were really laughing. Tris didn’t look like he was pining away for Roy. Hannah and Zach waved to each other once, so that was exciting. I tried hard not to look at Grady and Reese, but twice I did by accident. The first time they were feeding each other cupcakes. The second time they were kissing again.
Oh, what a stupid, terrible night. I’m like that husband and wife in the monkey paw story who curse themselves by wishing for money. I wished for a memory, and I got one, and now I’m sorry I ever wanted it.
Monday, October 31
Reese posted a picture of Grady looking smoldering in his body paint and captioned it “green bae.” Wonderful. And excuse me, but at what point did Grady decide Reese is the love of his life? Two seconds ago he was in the concession stand with me, agreeing that she’s a fake-nice, actually-mean bully. Maybe her hotness cancels out her cruelty. Maybe that’s how it works for guys.
Tuesday, November 1
What did I expect, that Grady was going to sit around waiting for me to make up my mind? That he liked me so much he wouldn’t be interested in anyone else? That his crush on me would somehow make him invisible to all other girls?
I did expect all of those things, but I realize they’re ridiculous.
Wednesday, November 2
“She’s bold,” I said to Tris. “You have to give her that. Not everyone would be brave enough to make out with a freshman at the first dance of the year.”
“That’s exactly why she did it!” he said, shivering. It was lunchtime, and cold, and we’d snuck outside to talk without stopping to grab our coats from our lockers.
“What do you mean?”
“I bet she knew people would make fun of her for dating a freshman, and she wanted to control the narrative. So she broke the story herself, like, ‘Yeah, I’m dating this guy and I’m excited about it and you should all be jealous.’ ”
“It worked,” I said.
A crow flew overhead, cawing. I shivered.
“Have you seen Grady?” Tris asked.
“No. I’m taking insane detours to avoid his locker. I’ve been late to three classes already.”
“So you’re not going to tell him how you feel?”
“What, that I like him? No. No way. I already tried stealing Mac from Sienna, and it turned into a Dumpster fire.”
Tris nodded and rubbed his arms.
“Plus,” I said, “I don’t like him anymore.”
Tris gave me a look like yeah, right.
“Seriously,” I said. “How could I like someone who makes out with Reese?”
I could tell he didn’t believe me. I don’t believe me either, but I want to.
Thursday, November 3
I NEVER WANT TO SEE OR SPEAK TO GRADY EVER AGAIN.
I was mid-detour, racing through the B wing, when I crashed into him as he came out of the bathroom. It was like a scene from a rom-com, if rom-coms were about bumbling, angry teenagers betraying each other.
“Hey!” he said, and grabbed my arms to steady me, or himself.
“Hi.”
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said. He was watching me carefully.
“I saw you at the dance,” I said. “From across the room.” I tried to sound unemotional, but it must not have worked, because he got a pitying expression on his face, which made me furious.
“I don’t care that you’re with Reese,” I said.
“OK.”
“I’m a little confused about it, though. Remember all those times at the pool when we agreed she’s the worst?”
It seemed somehow embarrassing that I’d brought up the pool, like I was referring to a magical realm we’d both agreed to pretend doesn’t exist.
“She’s actually really nice,” he said defensively.
I laughed to show him how ridiculous I found this statement.
“She is,” he said. “It just takes a while to get to know her.” He started rumpling his hair, making it stand on end, which he always does when he’s stressed out.
“ ‘A while’ as in 15 minutes of eating each other’s faces in public?”
“Are you mad about that?”
We were raising our voices, but it didn’t matter. The next class had started, and the halls had cleared out around us.
“Of course I’m not mad,” I said. “Make out with whoever you want.”
“Thanks, I will,” he said. “It’s none of your business.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I don’t think you are,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t be standing here criticizing my girlfriend like a stalker.”
“Oh, I’m a stalker?” I said, but I was thinking, Girlfriend? GIRLFRIEND?!
“Chloe, I feel bad saying this, but I don’t like you anymore.”
I could feel angry tears forming in my eyes. I managed to choke out a “Yeah, obviously”; then I had to turn and walk away as fast as I could to escape before I started sobbing.
I’m so upset. I’m so mad. I’m so embarrassed. How did this happen? I didn’t even like Grady a month ago.
Friday, November 4
Woke up with a fever, like the heroine of an old-fashioned novel who worries herself into a decline. Dad took my temperature, said “No school, kiddo,” and brought me a ginger ale and my laptop before he left for work.
I spent half the day sleeping and half the day worrying about the Thanksgiving Day football game. I’m sure Grady and Reese will go, because everyone does, and I’ll probably be forced to have some hideously awkward interaction with them. And some of the ex-seniors will come. Like Roy. Or maybe Mac. (Not Josh, because he’s going away with his family for the holiday, so Hannah doesn’t have to freak out.) I barely survived the Halloween dance, and now there’s this new huge event to feel sick about for a month. It’s exhausting.
Saturday, November 5
Slept for 13 hours last night and woke up feeling weak but clear-headed.
You know what, it’s a good thing Grady showed his true colors before I got involved with him. “Stalker”? HA. He’s the one who followed me around like a baby duckling for months. And all this pretending to like Reese is disgusting. Just admit you’re with her because you want to get in her pants. What do they even talk about—her hair? Her clothes? Her latest scheme for torturing Noelle?
Doesn’t he remember how we talked about real stuff at the pool? Doesn’t he realize it’s rare to find someone you feel so comfortable around? No, he doesn’t, and that’s why I’m not going to spend one more instant thinking about him.
Sunday, November 6
Tris showed up unannounced in the middle of dinner. Dad went to the kitchen to get him some food.
“I texted you,” Tris said.
“I didn’t see,” I said. “You’re panting!”
“I rode my bike over.”
He looked upset, and I was about to ask him if he was OK when Dad came back, carrying a bowl full of pasta.
We talked about normal stuff while we ate: teachers, classes, how Tristan’s brother is doing at college. By the time Tris and I finished washing the dishes and went up to my room, he had calmed down. He sat on my bed and said, “I have a bad feeling about Roy.”
I sat next to him. “Did something happen?”
“A lot of little things. He takes forever to text me back. He sounds polite when we talk. I don’t know. . . . He’s being generally weird. I was sitting in my room before I came over and suddenly I felt sure he’s cheating on me. It was like a premonition. Or, no, like a sixth sense.”
“OK,” I said. “I guess it’s possible he is.”
Tris turned pale.
“But I doubt it,” I said quickly.
“You do? Why?” He was looking at me like I was about to reveal a great truth.
“There are so many other explanations. Maybe he’s genuinely busy at school and it’s hard to be in touch all the time. Or maybe you’re paranoid, because you never get to see him and you don’t know what he’s doing, so you’re hearing things in his voice that aren’t there. Or maybe things do feel strange to both of you because of the long distance, but everything will go right back to normal when he comes home. You’ll see him over Thanksgiving, right?”
“Yeah. He’s coming home in time for the game, and then we’ll have the weekend.”
“So there you go.”
Tris flopped backward onto my bed and sighed. “I’m dreading the game, to be honest.”
“Oh God, I know.”
“I wish it were illegal for college kids to come to it. They’re done with high school. Can’t they stay away from us?”
“Except for Roy, of course.”
“Well, yeah. But even him. I want to see him for the first time on our own, not in a crowd of thousands of people.”
“We could skip the game,” I said.
Tris laughed bitterly but didn’t even bother to respond otherwise. And why would he? It was a ridiculous suggestion. Yes, technically we could skip the game, but only in the sense that Elizabeth Bennet technically could have skipped the Netherfield ball.
Monday, November 7
Dear Chloe,
I’ve spoken with your father, who is intent on shielding you from the divorce process entirely. In theory, I agree with him, but I also want to respect you as an intelligent being who likely craves knowledge, even at the cost of psychic pain. As I told him, if you ask me questions about what’s happening, I can’t promise I won’t answer them. That said, are there any questions you’d like to ask me?
—Mom
I want to reply, because of course I want to find out if they’ve started mediation, and what the mediator looks like, and how long the divorce is going to take. But at the same time, I don’t want to know at all. Also, I refuse to fall for this clickbait in email form.
Tuesday, November 8
Reese came up to me between classes and put her hand on my arm. “Chloe, I’m so happy we’re ru
nning into each other,” she said, staring into my eyes. She was wearing a soft white sweater, ripped skinny jeans, and suede booties.
“Hey, Reese,” I said.
“Listen, I have to say something to you. I am so, so sorry if Grady and I hurt you.”
“Oh! Oh. No—”
“I know how hard it must be to see him with someone else. This summer, I was totally secretly in love with him, but sometimes I wondered if he had a little crush on you! Thank goodness I was wrong.” She narrowed her eyes at me like a hypnotist. So this was going to be the official version of events: Grady never liked me. I had an unrequited crush on him. Great. Fine. Whatever. I wasn’t brave enough to put up a fight. Besides, what would be the point? She could tell people we actually go to school in a giant aquarium and breathe through invisible gills, and everyone would believe her, because she’s Reese. She decides what’s true and what’s not.
She squeezed my arm. “Anyway, you must hate me for stealing him out from under your nose. You do, don’t you? Admit it!” She got out her dimples and aimed them at me. Her eyes were so sparkly. Her skin was so poreless. She could turn everyone in the class against me with a snap of her fingers.
“Of course I don’t hate you,” I said.
“I’m so glad,” she said. “We’ll hang out at the Thanksgiving Day game, right?”
“Totally!”
She hugged me, and I hugged her back tightly. I was a mouse in a hawk’s talons, adoring the hawk because it hadn’t pierced my neck yet.
Wednesday, November 9
Miss Murphy and I bumped into each other after school, and she said, “How about that ride home?” I couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough, so I accepted.
Plenty of people noticed us walking together in the hall, but it’s not unusual to walk with a teacher. I don’t think anyone saw us in the faculty parking lot. I speed-walked over to her blue Jeep Wrangler to minimize the time spent out in the open with her.
“I like your car,” I said, once we were inside it.
The Year of Living Awkwardly Page 7