The Year of Living Awkwardly

by Emma Chastain

  My birthday was sheer glamour: classes all day, striking the set all afternoon. Hannah wished me a happy birthday, but she was too busy having serious conversations with Reese to pay much attention to me. I walked by them once and heard her say, “But I must have done something!” Reese said, “I’m sure you didn’t, sweetie.” I avoided Grady.

  Dad’s been asking me for weeks if I want a party, but I said all I wanted was for him to take me, Tris, and Noelle to Olive Garden, which I love unironically, and he said yes, even though he hates it. He also agreed not to complain about how inauthentic the food is the entire time. I was a little nervous, because it was only the second time Noelle and Tris and I have hung out. Tonight they were quiet at first, but then Noelle told Tris his shirt was cute and asked where he got it, and after that it was easy. I was having a great time until Dad turned to me and said, “So, should we head to the DMV after school tomorrow to get your permit? I can leave work early!” It’s easy enough to refuse to drive around illegally with Noelle, but how am I going to get out of driving with Dad?

  Tuesday, May 23

  I was hoping the DMV would take forever, but we were in and out of there in less than half an hour. Dad asked me if I wanted to try driving home, and at first I said I did, which was true. I wanted to drive. I just couldn’t. We were walking toward the car when I pictured getting in a crash and killing Dad, but not myself, and I heard myself saying, “Actually, maybe I should practice in our neighborhood first,” which he seemed to think was reasonable.

  When we got home, I distracted myself from my car phobia by calling Mrs. Franco to ask if I can be a lifeguard at the pool this summer. She said opening day is June 3, and I would have had to complete a training course by late March to be considered, but I’m welcome to work at the concession stand again. I accepted, hung up, and then realized how excruciatingly awkward it’s going to be to hang out with Grady all day every day. How will I manage to pretend I don’t like him for three months in a row? And oh God, Reese will be there too, preening and posing on the lifeguard chair. Great. This should be a real laugh riot.

  Wednesday, May 24

  The Senior Costume Contest is tomorrow. No matter what happens, it can’t be as disastrous as last year’s SCC. I would bet money no one will spray pee on me from a squirt gun, for example!

  Thursday, May 25

  GREAT SCOTT I THINK THERE’S SOMETHING GOING ON WITH REESE AND ZACH OMG OMG OMG

  Friday, May 26

  Tris and Noelle and I have been talking and texting about this nonstop and I still have no idea what to think.

  What happened was, Tris and Elliott and I went to the gym for the costume contest, which is mandatory. I’m not sure why the administration thinks it’s edifying for us to see a bunch of seniors, most of them drunk, running around dressed as memes, but whatever. We were sitting in the bleachers, watching in silent judgment instead of clapping and cheering, because we’re theater kids like that, and then Grady came in late and sat next to Elliott. He leaned over him to push my knee and said, “Hey, happy belated birthday.” The thing is, he wasn’t flirting with me. He was just being nice, and that made me so sad. I desperately wanted him to be touching me because he secretly likes me, and I couldn’t take the fact that he was bopping me on the knee like one friend bops another.

  I muttered something about coming right back and then stepped over everyone and walked out through the double doors. The hallway was deserted except for Reese and Zach. She was leaning against the lockers, and he was next to her, running his index finger down the inside of her forearm—I think. I saw it for one second, and then they jumped apart and Reese said “Hey, Chloe” in a voice so warm it was like hot chocolate on a snowy day. She can’t fool me with her fake niceness; she’s even worse than I ever suspected.

  Should I tell Hannah? No, right? It’s not like I know for sure Reese and Zach are . . . doing whatever they’re doing. Even if I did, I’m not Hannah’s best friend anymore. I’m barely her friend, and that means I don’t have a moral obligation to break it to her. Or am I making that argument because I want to avoid telling her something she’ll hate hearing? The thing is, even if I did tattle, Hannah might think I’m making up stories to convince her Reese is awful.

  And what about Grady?? How could anyone cheat on sweet, wonderful Grady with snoozy, beautiful Zach? If Reese dumps him, he’ll be single. But I can’t even hope for that. I can’t hope for Grady and Hannah to wind up brokenhearted.

  Saturday, May 27

  I was sitting on the deck in the late afternoon with Miss Murphy and Dad. They were eating chips and salsa, and I was furiously texting Tris, and when Miss Murphy said, “What’s going on? Anything interesting?” I spilled the beans and asked them if they thought I have to tell Hannah. It was a little awkward asking them for advice about turning in a cheating couple, since they were/are a cheating couple themselves, but Miss Murphy was so interested in the gossip that it overrode the weirdness.

  “What do people think about Reese?” she said.

  “You don’t know?” I said. I was surprised. Miss Murphy seems omniscient.

  “Not at all,” she said. “The pecking order is invisible to me. I try to guess, but I can’t read the signals.”

  “She’s the most popular girl in our class,” I said. “No one can stand her, but everyone wants to be her friend.”

  “Got it.” Miss Murphy was nodding. “We had a Reese in our class. Heather Mason.”

  “Ours was Karen de Vries,” Dad said.

  Neither of them thought I should tell Hannah. Dad said I don’t have enough evidence, and Miss Murphy said sometimes you’re forced to interfere in other people’s relationships for one reason or another, but this isn’t one of those times.

  Then we ordered food and watched Real Housewives. It’s nice being able to outvote Dad again.

  Sunday, May 28

  This morning I called downstairs, “I can’t find my hair dryer,” and Miss Murphy called up, “Sorry. I borrowed it. Look in your dad’s bathroom,” and I checked and had started to say, “It’s not there. Did you—” when Dad bellowed, “Stop yelling between floors, both of you.” We’re half pretending to be a real family, half being one.

  Monday, May 29

  I had the day off from school for Memorial Day. Dad came down in the morning wearing his swim trunks and a T-shirt and said, “Want to go to the beach?” I gulped down the rest of my breakfast and ran upstairs to get ready. We were walking to the car when he said, “How about you drive us to Dunkin’ Donuts?”

  I got as far as turning the key in the ignition and putting my hand on the gearshift before I started shaking and getting dizzy.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Yank it to the right a little before you pull down.”

  “No, I mean I can’t drive.”

  “What? How come?”

  “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

  “Really?”

  “I hate even sitting here. I’m having trouble seeing—it’s like everything’s getting dark.”

  He looked alarmed. “You can’t drive like that.”

  “I know!”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Do you need some water?”

  I took the bottle he offered me and had a sip.

  “It’s not better,” I said after a minute.

  “Let’s switch places,” he said, and I was so relieved, I tried to jump out of the driver’s seat without undoing my seat belt.

  We stayed at the beach all day, and he didn’t even ask if I wanted to try driving home.

  Tuesday, May 30

  Texted Noelle.

  How do you make yourself

  do stuff that scares you?

  Like what?

  I don’t know . . . what

  scares you?

  I can’t think of anything

  Of course she can’t! Really I should be asking her, how can I be more like you in every w
ay?

  Wednesday, May 31

  I’m still wincing about what happened at lunch.

  The cafeteria felt empty without the seniors (their last day was Friday). Tris and Noelle and I spread out at what used to be the varsity lacrosse players’ table and talked about how nuts it is that we’re going to be juniors next year. Reese was sitting one table over, alone, playing on her phone. She pretended not to see us, or maybe she actually didn’t. We’d finished eating and were about to leave when Hannah came up to Reese’s table, pale and shaking.

  “I know about you and Zach,” she said.

  Reese made her screen dark. I could see her thinking as she looked down at it. When she looked up, her expression was warm and concerned.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

  Hannah stayed standing and burst into tears. “All those conversations we had—I told you everything. I asked you for advice. I went to you for help, and the whole time you were the one hurting me.”

  “Hannah . . .”

  “You made him dump me, didn’t you?” she said. She was having a hard time getting the words out. People at the immediate tables were staring, including me and Tris.

  Reese pressed a hand over her heart. “Hannah, of course not. It was a total coincidence. After you guys broke up, I texted him to see if he was OK, and it kind of progressed from there.”

  She’s lying! I shrieked at Hannah in my head.

  Hannah said, “I don’t believe you. All that stuff he told me about not feeling it anymore—I didn’t understand how everything could change so fast, but now I do. You guys were already hooking up.”

  “I would never,” Reese said.

  Hannah pulled herself together enough to laugh bitterly. “But you did.”

  Reese reached up and squeezed Hannah’s forearm. “Han, don’t you think you’re being a tiny bit immature about this? It’s high school. It’s not like either of us is going to marry Zach.”

  Hannah looked down at her, and I wondered if she was about to fall for this BS. Then she said, “Youth is no excuse for bad behavior.” Her old catchphrase! She’s still Hannah under that perfect smoky eye and cool lob.

  Reese said, “Hannah, no offense, but you sound like someone’s mom.” Then she stood and picked up her phone and her books. The cafeteria was quiet. Some people were pretending not to notice the argument, some people were openly watching, but everyone was paying attention. I wanted Hannah to scream obscenities at Reese, or throw the nearest Snapple in her face, but instead she said quietly, “Reese, you are not a nice person.”

  Thursday, June 1

  Everyone’s saying Reese destroyed Grady by breaking up with him. Elliott told Tris that Grady didn’t even know what was going on until last night, when Elliott couldn’t take it anymore and texted him saying he needed to call Reese ASAP. She and Zach were officially going out before she even had the courtesy to dump Grady! Humiliation on top of heartbreak. Someone said Zach gave Reese a ride home and they made out in the junior parking lot for 15 minutes and he put his hand up her shirt right there in front of everyone (which sounds made up, but who knows?). Someone said Grady punched a locker. And someone else said he was crying in biology.

  Noelle keeps texting me, Reese, you are not a nice person, followed by the applause emoji, or fireworks, or the yellow face with X-ed out eyes. I texted back, Youth is no excuse for bad behavior, and Noelle texted back, SLAY, and then I almost felt bad for Reese and that’s saying something.

  I spent all day today wondering how soon I could make my move and whether it would be gross to confess my feelings to Grady less than 24 hours after he got dumped. As an opening gambit, I texted him saying, Are you OK? and waited by my phone, literally sick to my stomach, for him to text back. When he finally did, 40 minutes later, he said, Yeah—no period. He’s either mad or devastated. Either way, he’s not interested in me. And it makes sense. Where do you go after dating the most popular girl in the grade above yours? You don’t stoop back down to me.

  Friday, June 2

  Tomorrow’s opening day at the pool, which is bizarre, since classes won’t be over until the 19th (the college-age kids cover the 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. shifts until then, and they act like they’re doing us a giant favor). I don’t like the overlap. School should end on Memorial Day so we can start basking in summer, glorious summer, without being distracted by finals and other pesky academic nonsense.

  I did 50 crunches after school, then spent an hour looking at no-makeup makeup tutorials on YouTube, because nothing could be more ridiculous than showing up at the pool at 9 a.m. looking like you thought you were going to a club.

  I can’t believe I used to go to work last summer without brushing my hair or even cleaning all the sleep boogers out of my eyes. I treated Grady like an annoying co-worker whose opinion didn’t matter. What a fool I was!

  He might not like me now, but we’re going to be standing inches from each other for months. Maybe I can gradually worm my way back into his heart. He’s a teenager—he won’t be upset about Reese forever. Will he?

  Saturday, June 3

  Ummmmmm, GRADY IS A LIFEGUARD. What did he do, take a training course this winter and apply for the job in a timely fashion?? Who’s that organized as a mere freshman? Wait—he must have done it so he and Reese could hang out together all summer, and now he’s stuck working with the person who broke his heart. Poor guy.

  I didn’t even get to talk to him today. He sat across from the concession stand in the white wooden chair where Reese used to sit, leaning back with his arms crossed, yelling at the kids whenever they ran on the deck or dunked each other. Even wearing red lifeguard shorts and an orange waterproof watch, he looked like his skater self, with rubber bands around his wrists and his hair sticking up. He had on mirrored sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes.

  I was working with some girl named Nadia who’s going to be a freshman next year. She was shy and I think a little scared of me (possibly because I’m almost an upperclassman [!!!]), and I wasn’t helping her out, conversation-wise, because I was so preoccupied by Grady. She saw me staring at him and said, “Who is that guy? He’s cute.”

  “That’s Grady,” I said. She waited for me to elaborate, but I didn’t want to get into it. Finally she said, “I wonder if he has a girlfriend.”

  “He doesn’t,” I barked, and she cowered in fear. I feel terrible. I’m going to be nicer to her from now on.

  Sunday, June 4

  I had a nightmare that Mom came home in the middle of the night and tried to steal me.

  I’ve been telling myself I haven’t heard from her because she’s given up on the idea of shared custody. But I don’t really believe that.

  This morning I went downstairs and found Miss Murphy sitting at the island, reading the New Yorker. She looked up and asked me if I was OK.

  “Yeah. Actually, no. I’m worried something bad might happen,” I said.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really, if that’s OK.”

  “Well, remember, ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ ”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Think about today’s problems today and tomorrow’s problems tomorrow. If something bad happens next week, or next year, you can cope with it then. And it might not happen at all, so don’t waste your energy worrying in advance.”

  It’s good advice, and I’ll try.

  Monday, June 5

  Even as I write these words, Reese and Zach are at junior prom. I got a shock when I opened Instagram and saw their selfie. He’s wearing an ironic powder-blue tux; she’s wearing a silver floor-length dress with one shoulder strap. Immediately, without thinking about it, I called Hannah. My heart was racing as I waited to see if she’d pick up. Then she did, and as soon as she said, “Hi, Chloe,” she started crying.

  “They’re awful,” I said. “This is beyond the beyond.”

  “I’m so embarrassed,” she said. “I
had my dress altered. I can’t return it. I bought these shoes with hearts over the toes. . . .”

  I knew what she meant. It’s painful to think about your younger self doing something earnestly and hopefully, not knowing her efforts are doomed and she’s headed for disaster.

  “Reese and Zach,” I said. “Their couple name can be Reek.”

  “You’re not helping,” she said, and she was still crying, but she was laughing, too.

  I’m glad I called her. I’m still mad at her for ditching me all year, and for what? For this backstabbing boyfriend-stealer. But I realize I don’t I have any right to complain, when I did exactly the same thing to her last year. If Mac so much as raised his eyebrow at me, I would cancel plans with Hannah in case he decided he wanted to hang out. So, really, I should be more understanding. I must have made her feel last year like she made me feel this year: Unimportant. Boring. Old news.

  Tuesday, June 6

  Tris and Elliott and I sat in the courtyard for a while after school today. Tris was on his phone, not paying attention to us, so I asked Elliott if he’s been reading anything good.

  “I started On the Road, but I can’t stand it.”

  This caught my attention. Elliott looks like exactly the kind of guy who would fall for On the Road.

  “Nothing happens,” Elliott said. “There’s no plot, and I’m sorry, but I think the writing is terrible. He says things like ‘What a night it was!’ It’s like reading someone’s aunt’s Facebook comments.”

  We complained about Kerouac together for the rest of lunch. Tris looked up from his phone, figured out what we were talking about, and fell back into his phone again.