by Sophia Rossi
“Well, you know how I’ve been wearing my wings, like, every day since school started?”
“Yeah. . . .”
“Uh, well, that wasn’t exactly my idea.”
“Let me guess. Nicole?”
“Yup. She told me on Day One that I couldn’t be in NAMASTE unless I wore my wings. Because my wings were me, they made me who I am. At first I thought, well, maybe it’s not so bad—I do like the wings and I did wear them by choice the day we met. But you know me—I’d never wear those things every single day, they’re more of a good luck charm.” Harper nodded thoughtfully. “So when I came to school without them, thinking she couldn’t possibly have literally meant I need to wear them every single day, she freaked. I really wanted to join NAMASTE and keep hanging out with Jane and Drew and especially Nicole, this girl that everyone in school seemed to just worship and fear but in a good way, like in the way that you’d be kind of afraid to meet your favorite actor or something. So I kept wearing them, even though I didn’t want to.”
“Oh, Lily—”
“Oh, that’s not even the bad stuff, yet, like how I totally fell for Nicole’s self-help NAMASTE nonsense, even though at some level I recognized that she was just using my fairy wings as a way to see how many people she could get to fall in line before taking it mainstream. Making it part of her ‘personal brand.’ I mean, even at Jane’s fashion launch party, everyone was wearing wings and talking about ‘expanding our merchandizing opportunities’ to like, energy drink companies. It was gross. It wasn’t what my wings were about. But I was way too blind to see that I was just being used.”
I had to hand it to Harper: She could smell a caveat coming a million miles away. She folded her arms. “So all you did was let other girls borrow your style . . . what’s so wrong with that?
I gulped, feeling like I had been running a marathon. Why was this part so much harder!
“There’s more,” I said, knowing that if I didn’t keep going I might lose my nerve before I told Harper the other, much worse thing I did during my shameful NAMASTE brainwashing days. “You know Beth-Lynne?”
“Yeah . . . you asked about her the other day, too. Why?”
“Well, it turns out that new fancy school she goes to is Pathways.”
“No way! Somehow I can’t picture her there . . .”
“Exactly. She’s kind of in a different part of the school all together, with the tech and science labs. I don’t know how I could have missed her for the first few weeks though—she kind of sticks out like a sore thumb, you know in her jeans and flannel that she always wears, which is obviously totally fine—I mean, who am I to talk, look at the way I looked compared to everyone else at Hollywood Middle, for instance, you know?” Harper was looking at me in the expectant-slash-encouraging way she does when I start to ramble nervously. “Right, anyway. So, Beth-Lynne goes to Pathways, which I found out because, one day, she came up to me and said hello when I was hanging out with Nicole in the hallway.” I paused, thinking about how to phrase what happened next.
“Okay. And . . . ?” said Harper, nudging me along.
“And at first everything was totally friendly, but then she said something totally innocent about my wings, you know, just commenting on them, and Nicole stepped in and said Beth-Lynne was, like, making a joke about them. Which she was, sort of, but not to be mean. And then Nicole said something about her clothes . . . well, you know what Beth-Lynne’s style is like, and, all I can say is if you thought what Nicole said about your shoes at the party was mean . . . Anyway, she went on and on about how not only was Beth-Lynne’s outfit—which included Uggs, mind you—environmentally irresponsible, but her style was basic and boring and so she must be basic and boring, too.”
“Poor Beth-Lynne,” said Harper. And then, under her breath, “I can’t believe that bully.”
“Yeah, it was bad. But what was worse . . . the worst thing about it was . . . I started to believe what Nicole was saying. That Beth-Lynne was against what NAMASTE stood for, and if I didn’t say anything to stand up to her, it meant I also went against everything NAMASTE stood for.”
“Oh, no,” said Harper. “Lily, you didn’t. . . .”
“I did,” I said. “I said everything Nicole said and worse. I’m a terrible person, Harper. I made her cry. In front of the whole school. And I didn’t even run after her or apologize or anything, because that’s how much of a monster I’ve become.”
“What? Hey, no. Let me repeat: You are not a monster. Yes, that sounds like a bad scene and Beth-Lynne definitely didn’t deserve any of that. I mean, she and her family save innocent puppies in their spare time.” And with that, I let the tears flow. I couldn’t help it. “Hey! Listen to me. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” I cry-mumbled.
“Okay. What you guys did to Beth-Lynne wasn’t great. And it sucks that you felt you had to let parts of yourself be coopted by an older, cooler girl in order to fit in. But you know what?”
“What?” I sobbed, really losing it now.
“The only thing I hear from you right now is that you made some mistakes—because you’re a human being, FYI—and that you know they were just that: mistakes. And you feel bad about them, and want to make them right. You can always apologize to Beth-Lynne, and while she may not send you flowers and write you a thank-you note, she’ll probably understand and be pretty cool about it. And I know you won’t stop trying until you make all of this right. That’s the Lily I know and love! The Lily that stood out as so special on that first day in gym class a million years ago. The Lily who is my best friend. Nicole, she does all this stuff and doesn’t feel guilty about it, because she’s the monster. You’re the Gawkward Fairy—even when you’re not wearing your wings—which means that no matter what you do, your light and your kindness is going to win out in the end.”
“Really?” I said, trying to wipe off my face with my blazer sleeves. “But, what about our pact? I totally broke it. I didn’t stay true to who I was, and I let you down, and I let my grandma down . . . I let everyone down!” I started to bawl again.
“Psh, a temporary slip. I know that you don’t actually feel that you need to wear anything to be you. I notice that you’re not wearing your wings now, for instance!”
“Only metaphorically,” I said, cracking a smile.
“Oh, well, of course,” said Harper, returning my smile.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I should have been there right by your side at the Ranch, pretending to be drunk with you and telling Derek that he better treat you right or I’d come after him with every superpower in my repertoire. I guess I just assumed that you were okay without me. Because you’re always okay. But I know now that that’s not fair to you. As you said, we’re all human beings . . .”
“Yes, even us superheroes are still human beings at heart.”
“Exactly. So. Forgive me?” I said, letting one last tear fall down my cheek. Harper let out a big mock sigh. “Ohh, I suppose. On a temporary trial basis.” She gave me a sly wink.
“Well, maybe I can get off early for good behavior? Or maybe a bribe will help?” I reached into my blazer pocket and pulled out my secret weapon: two jagged pieces of gold attached to two delicate chains. Our broken heart BFF necklaces. After Harper left me alone in the bathroom, the first thing I did was gather up her half and make sure it was clean and safe inside my bag.
“My necklace! You saved it. Thank you.” Harper fished her half out of my hand and fastened it around her neck.
When I’d imagined my reunion hug with Harper, I pictured it like one of those slow-mo, on-the-beach moments with some terrible jazz playing in the background. Maybe I would twirl her and promise never to leave her again while the ocean surf sprayed on our feet.
In reality, it was just a comfortable, familiar bestie hug, the kind I’d been missing worse than I’d realized for th
e past several weeks. Then, suddenly we both seemed to catch on to how cold it had gotten, because we both started shivering.
“Shall we?” Harper said, nodding toward the boardwalk.
“Definitely,” I said, and we both started walking homeward.
“Hey Lily,” Harper said in the waning light after a few moments of silence. “Guess what?”
“What?” Our feet made crooked crisscrosses through each other’s shoeprints.
“I actually really liked your friends Jane and Drew. They seem cool and nice. I’m happy you found people who really like you at Pathways, and that you’re finding out what you like to do and who you are. That’s important. I’m sorry if I ever seemed like I was jealous of that part of it. I’m actually so proud that you’re in a band.”
“Hey, thanks! You know, I’m actually really proud of us, too. I mean, it’s so silly but I guess at this point it’s the only extracurricular I’m involved with. Well, besides NAMASTE . . . for now.”
“Can you just tell me one thing?” Harper asked slyly when we got to the boardwalk, which was lively as usual and filled with the scents of all kinds of delicious treats. I could feel my mouth begin to salivate over the idea of food—any food—as long as it was deep-fried and not macrobiotic. “Can someone please, please explain to me what you guys actually do in this cult of yours? Like, what does NAMASTE actually do?”
I opened my mouth with the answer ready, but in that moment it must have flown away. Maybe it was the owl of Minerva that had stolen the words from me, on her way to warn the next poor schlubs who would be too late to save themselves from Pathways’ mind-meld.
Instead I laughed. “You know?” I said, throwing my arm around Harper’s shoulders. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Going back to school on Monday was difficult. Everything was the same, but completely different all at once. Lily and I were friends again, but after everything that happened, things still felt a little tense between us. And while I appreciated that Tim had played the go-between to set us up together, I still found myself irrationally annoyed that he’d more or less tricked me.
Per usual, I was definitely not in a rush to get to history, where I knew Kendall and Derek, the “it’s complicated” couple, would be cozily snuggled up together in the back. I made sure to come in at the last possible moment (but not too late to get detention—it’s an art, really), and slid into my seat with my eyes looking straight ahead.
“Hey,” said an all-too familiar voice. I could feel Tim on the edges of my peripheral vision, tapping a pen cap on the edge of his desk. “Harper, what’s up?”
“Hi, Tim.” I bent down and pulled a pen and piece of paper from my bag, explicitly not making eye contact with him.
“What’s up? What happened with you and Lily? You haven’t answered any of my texts.” His tapping increased in tempo.
“I’ve just been pretty busy, that’s all,” I said curtly. “Can you please stop tapping your pen? It’s driving me nuts.”
He stopped, clearly stung. “Sorry.”
When I didn’t turn around again, he poked me with the tip of his pen. “Hey, are you mad at me? Because—”
“I’m not mad,” I hissed, turning on him suddenly. “Why would I be mad? I’m just annoyed because . . . because . . .” I floundered. In truth, I had no idea why I was so pissed off. “Because you’re always, like, inserting yourself into my life.”
This time, Tim was so surprised that he dropped his pen and had to make a grab for it as it rolled away toward the floor. As soon as he sat back up, class had officially started. I could feel him looking at me throughout the entire period with those hurt, quizzical eyes, and I had to really suppress my Empathy Powers so as not to turn and tell him directly, in front of the whole class: I’m upset because I spend so much time worrying about what other people feel that I literally have no idea what I’m feeling. About anything. Ever.
I felt so on edge for the entire fifty-minute class, and when the bell rang I practically jumped out of my skin from a combination of surprise and relief. I decided I couldn’t risk Tim trying to catch up to me in the hall, so I decided to just keep freezing him out and stall a while to make him leave first. As everyone else filed out, I pretended to be busy on my phone, while Tim just sat there, relentlessly giving me those puppy eyes.
“Okay, well. See you later, I guess,” Tim said, finally getting up from his desk when the second-period bell rang. As he passed me, I smelled that woodsy-clean scent of his again, and I furiously swiped at my phone to overcompensate for the fact that my hands were shaking. I watched him walk away from me and didn’t take another breath until he disappeared down the hall.
“Hey, Carina.”
I looked up. Derek Wheeler waltzed back into the classroom, slinging his backpack into Tim’s empty seat behind me. He yanked on my braid, like a fifth-grader demanding attention, when I refused to acknowledge his presence. He tugged again and I looked over reluctantly, but my scowl turned into an O of surprise when I saw his T-shirt.
“Hey, Derek,” I said, as neutrally as I could, while scanning the room to look for signs of Kendall. I was in the clear. “Is that your D.A.R.E. shirt from . . . fourth grade? You still have it?”
“Yeah, well,” Derek smiled, wrapping his finger around my braid. “I remember you said you liked it.”
“I said I remembered it, not that I liked it or that you should bring it out of retirement.” I pried my hair out of his hands. “I mean, god, hasn’t it disintegrated from all the combined stink particles and subsequent hosings?”
For a moment, Derek look embarrassed. He flicked his hair to the front of his face as if it were a shield that could protect him from ridicule. “I actually bought it new, yesterday,” he shrug-mumbled behind his hair. “When you mentioned it the other night, it kind of got me thinking how much I loved that shirt.”
I just looked back at him and nodded, completely perplexed as to what was going on.
“Anyway.” Derek shook back his fluttering mane like a surly pony. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you. . . .”
“So talk,” I said.
“About the other night.”
“Sure.” Was I still nodding? I had to forcibly stop my head from moving in an agreeable motion.
“I’m sorry I let Kendall take that video of you. You were so good at pretending to be drunk and I honestly thought it would make for a funny scene in my movie, but then she uploaded it to SchoolGrams without telling me. I felt really bad about it, and, uh, I didn’t know how to approach you about it.”
Huh. I must have missed the part in my horoscope that said October would bring me a record number of apologies.
“It’s just that . . . you kind of intimidate me,” Derek went on after a pause. He pulled his dark, wiry eyebrows together in what looked like an attempt at deep thought.
“Sorry?”
“You just come off as so, I don’t know . . . put together. Like you have everything figured out and live this, like, perfect TV commercial life.”
“Uh.” I said. TV commercial? What commercials was Derek watching? My life was as put together as a telenovela soap opera. Minus the murder and secret love children, but still. “Thanks for that, Derek, but now that everyone’s seen that video the most obvious comparison for my life would be the nightly story on TMZ.”
Derek laughed. “See? You can make me laugh, and I don’t even think girls are funny.”
Wow. And he actually said this like he was proud of it.
“Okay, well, good talk, Derek,” I began gathering up my things, still totally overwhelmed by this turn of events. “But you should probably get out of here before Kendall sees you talking to me.”
At the mention of her name, Derek rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Despite his dreamy physique, I realized he was still just a little kid.
“Kendall and I a
re not dating. She doesn’t own me. Plus, the other reason I wanted to talk to you is . . . uh . . . well, I wanted to give you this.” Before I could move, Derek jerked into me and fastened his lips onto mine.
For a moment I was too stunned to do anything. All I could think about was how chapped his lips were, and how he really needed to moisturize his stubble area. Plus, his hair obviously hadn’t been washed in a while and he gave off a patchouli-scented funk.
“Mmph!” I said after I somehow regained my full senses, my arms pin-wheeling out until I hit Derek in the chest. “Mrrrph!”
“What’s wrong?” Derek pulled back, and I had to do everything in my power not to wipe my lips in disgust.
Suddenly, I heard a cough behind me.
“Sorry.” It was Tim. “I just forgot my notebook,” he said stonily, standing in the doorway. Had he seen everything? “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No problem man,” Derek smiled, clearly supremely pleased with himself. Tim gave us one more angry glare then turned on his heels, stalking off without even pretending to come in and retrieve his imaginary lost notebook. Every single one of my nerve endings wanted to run after him, but what would I say? I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about him, so here I was taking the easy route with a guy I had absolutely zero complicated feelings for.
“Derek,” I said gently, reaching into my pocket and leaning in toward him.
“Yeah?” He leaned in, too.
“Here’s some ChapStick. Please . . . for Kendall’s sake . . . use it.” The last thing I saw as I ran out the door was Derek’s look of total confusion. I knew I’d treasure it forever.
I texted Lily immediately.
Harper (10:00 a.m.): SOS HELP!
Lily (10:00 a.m.): I’m here! What’s up my love?
I considered leaving my wings at home the next day, but in the end I couldn’t do it. I needed them for one last appearance as LilyFairy, the freshman representative of NAMASTE.