Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf

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Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf Page 11

by Hayley Krischer


  “Yeah. It’s what you said.” But I’m far away now. Somewhere else.

  Blythe keeps going on about how Donnie would show up to her house with a flamethrower or something. More chips in her mouth. Crunching like she has all the answers. Doesn’t she?

  “Really, Ali. Why don’t you just answer her?”

  Because then I’d have to talk. I’d have to explain. And that’s the last thing I want to do. Talk about how I feel. Once I say it out loud, it’ll be real.

  * * *

  * * *

  Raj and I are at my locker.

  “Why are you giving Sammi the cold shoulder?”

  “I’m dumping her for Blythe.”

  But he squints his eyes in a concerned look.

  “I was just making a joke, Raj.” I sigh. One of those big sighs like the weight of the world is on your head and you can’t walk straight. He notices it and laughs.

  “So cryptic, Greenleaf.”

  “A person isn’t allowed to sigh?”

  He sighs loudly, making fun of me, slowly shrinking to the floor.

  “That’s me?”

  “That’s you when I try to talk to you. This is an awkward thing between the two of you. Usually Sammi’s the Ali expert. But she doesn’t know what to say to you anymore.”

  I know Sammi didn’t tell Raj what really happened. Sammi wouldn’t tell a soul. I know that.

  “She said you were still really messed up about the Nessel thing.”

  “That’s all she said?”

  “That you were isolating yourself.”

  “I’m not isolated.”

  “Oh, right. You’re hanging out with Blythe Jensen. That’s not isolating at all.”

  This is Raj. He’s legitimately concerned. I can’t just shut him down. “I’ve been doing this with everyone. It’s not just you. It’s not just her.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Wouldn’t that make you feel better?”

  “No. It’ll make me feel worse.”

  “Why? Why would that make you feel worse?”

  He looks away, more annoyed than worried, actually. “Because you’ve just been somewhere else lately. It’s not like you. None of this—it feels like I’m talking to someone else.”

  I want so badly to talk to him about all of it. How Blythe scooped me up and how it just feels good to be wanted by her. To hear her spill secrets she hasn’t told anyone else. To know details about this school, hidden things.

  I wish I could explain this to him, but I can’t get the right words out of my mouth because then I’d have to tell him everything and I don’t even know where I’d begin.

  “Do you know sometimes how you just feel lost?” I say.

  “When my parents got divorced,” he says. “And I first started going back and forth to my mom’s for three days and then my dad’s for three days. That was hell. I hated that. I felt lost. Like I was nowhere. So I made this little fortress around my superheroes. And I told my parents that I was the superhero. And that the fortress was my house. I was just safe inside that little space.”

  I would like a fortress.

  “I get it, Ali. I get how it feels to want to disappear,” he says. “I’ll talk to Sammi.”

  I reach out and hug him, which I know surprises him. But I hold him tight because I’m going to cry so hard if I let go. And then I feel his hands across my back hugging me too. My chest up against his. His breath in my ear. I don’t want to let go. I want to rest my head in the crook of his neck and be closer to him. There’s a buzz all inside me warming my body, and it surprises me. So I pull back to stare at him. That fuzz around his mouth. That hair drooping in his face. Wonder if he’s feeling that buzz too.

  18

  BLYTHE

  It’s not like people notice when we’re standing there together, me and Sean. They don’t think, “Oh, those two are in love.” There’s no conversation when we’re huddled together because the three of us—me, Sean, and Dev—are always together. But today it feels like I’m hiding something. It’s the way he needs me and how he confides in me about Ali. It feels like I’m keeping something from Dev. And maybe I am.

  “So what did Ali say when you were at her house?” Sean says. “You had some enlightening conversation with her.”

  “She showed me a collage book of you.” I feel awful right when it comes out. God. Why did I say that?

  “A what?”

  “I mean, it’s sweet, Sean. It’s not something to make fun of.”

  “What kind of collage book?”

  “Pictures of you. You know? Hearts and daisies.”

  He starts laughing, laughing so hard like it’s a joke. Except it’s not.

  “It’s cute, Sean. It’s the kind of thing—”

  “A stalker does. That’s what it is. The kind of thing a stalker does.”

  “No, it’s the kind of thing an immature girl does. An inexperienced girl. Maybe it’s kind of normal actually.”

  “How can you think that’s normal, B? She made a book of me? She collected photos of me? Hearts and fucking daisies? And I’m walking around feeling guilty?” he says. “So when I met her at the party she had a plan. She had a plan for us to be together—”

  “Well, maybe the plan didn’t go the way she wanted, Sean.”

  “Bullshit. She went up there with me. She took her fucking clothes off, and when I didn’t profess my love to her, she flipped out. That’s what happened. I didn’t call her the next day, is that what it was?”

  I tell him to quiet down. He’s too animated. Too manic. “Sean, you don’t remember in the car after the party. What you said to me? That something happened?”

  “Of course I remember. Like maybe I hurt her somehow.” He laughs, a grunt. “Except I didn’t hurt her, B. Don’t you see? She was a virgin. That’s why she—”

  “I know. I get it.”

  He’s talking about the blood. I don’t even want him to say it.

  “Could I have been a little more caring? Sure. But I was wasted. It was a big night. And I was freaked out too. But, B. You have to believe me. It was mutual. She was infatuated with me or something, like you said. We both got caught up in it.”

  I want to slump against the wall. I want to make this go away. How do I make this go away?

  “Okay, if she was so infatuated with you, then you owe it to her, really owe it to her, to make sure it ends in a way that isn’t so devastating or heartbreaking or whatever.”

  He takes my hand. “How do I do it, B? Tell me how.”

  “You’re like a whirlwind sometimes, you know that, Sean? You just fly from one emotion to the next.”

  He leans into my face, his breath so soft and sweet. People just don’t understand how complex he is. That’s all. They don’t get him. Suki. Donnie. Even Dev.

  “There are so many things I want to say to you.”

  My heart is pounding and my breath is so tight. Sean. Sean, who is like a brother to me. Sean, who is my boyfriend’s best friend. Sean, who I’ve known forever. He brushes his cheek against mine. Kisses me there. On my cheek. And I’m shaking.

  I’m shaking?

  I freeze.

  “Sean.”

  “Thanks for everything, B. Really.” His eyes slung low, shoulders down.

  “Of course,” I say, my body still shivering. “Of course.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Later, at Dev’s house. The three of us. Drinking beers outside on Dev’s back patio. Dev convinced his mother to give us a few beers now that first quarter exams are over. She lit the fire for us. I snuggle into Dev’s body. They’re telling jokes back and forth. I can’t even hear them. Over the fire, I fixate on Sean, all of it flowing through me. The warm fire. The beer. What it would be like, so close to him that way.

  19

&nbs
p; ALI

  “If you had a list of guys to choose from, how would you list them?” Blythe says.

  We’re in C-wing. Before the rest of the Core Four is here. Before they can ram their opinions down our throats, Blythe says.

  “I’m on a guy hiatus.”

  “I understand.”

  “How do you understand? You’ve been going out with Devon for so long.”

  “Dev’s not perfect,” she says, and edges herself between the ledge under the window and the wall. She stares off at the clouds or whatever imperfect thing on the planet that Blythe thinks she needs to add her magical wand to.

  Dev. The way she says it. His name rolls off her tongue. Everything she says is so easy.

  Blythe’s sunny highlights streak down her hair. It’s like you can see right through the strands. Transparent. That’s the word Sammi used.

  “I’ve never seen Sean feel bad for something like this. And he and I are tight. Super-tight.” She does the three crossing fingers thing again. As if I forgot.

  I lean into the bathroom wall, the door side. It squeaks, startling me. I don’t know what to say. Everything in my body clams up.

  “He wants to make things up to you, Ali. So be open. I know you’re pissed—I’d be pissed if Dev and I had sex and then he never called me the next day. But you have to understand—Sean, well, he’s a player. There’s this surfer from Long Beach Island he’s been seeing for years. There’s this softball player from Morristown. There’s all his matches—the New Jersey State Champs. I mean. There are so many girls. Look at him. He’s a god. Do you know what I’m saying? I’d go out with Sean if he wasn’t such a player.”

  Blythe uses the word god. Not that I’m religious or anything, but I always saw Blythe and Sean Nessel as equals.

  Except she sees him as a god too. Like I do. Did.

  “You’d go out with him?”

  “Not that I’d go for someone like Sean. He’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

  “I just thought, you and Devon—”

  “Well, I’m not oblivious either. You’re not the only one who thinks Sean is hot.” Her mouth drips with a goofy grin, and she playfully smacks my shoulder with the back of her hand. “He’s the untouchable, I guess. He always was.”

  Blythe and Sean. I never thought about this combination before. That she had any interest in Sean Nessel other than as a friend. But of course she does. We’re all drawn to him. Blythe isn’t immune.

  “Look, is there something going on with you and Rerun?” Blythe says. “Is that what this is about?”

  This is Sean’s nickname for Raj: Rerun. It came from a television show in the 1970s: What’s Happening!! The main character is Raj; his friend is Rerun. Sean saw it on YouTube. Now all the soccer guys call him that.

  “No, no. Raj is one of my best friends.”

  “Best friends? Is that like a secret language for fuck-buddies? That’s what Suki thinks.”

  I don’t know why this creeps me out, but it does. It really, really bothers me. I’m not anybody’s fuck-buddy for one reason alone: I don’t fuck. Referring to someone as my fuck-buddy implies that I have a sex life and that I’m choosing to have a sex life. I didn’t choose to have a sex life. I didn’t choose to have sex. It was forced on me.

  “What did Sean tell you exactly?” I blurt out.

  “He feels really bad about that night. He thinks you’re a nice girl. I’ve told you this.”

  “Wow, I’m so glad I have his approval.” I feel my skin wet and clammy. I’m pushing the limits here, and I know this.

  BLYTHE

  “Whoa, defensive. Why don’t you relax with your attitude?”

  The girls walk in. Donnie, Cate, Suki. They exhale aggression. They see Ali and snarl almost collectively. They hate her so much.

  “Oh, I forgot about our little mascot,” Donnie says.

  “Maybe there should be an initiation,” Cate says. But as soon as Cate says initiation, she backpedals. “I didn’t mean that kind of initiation. I meant in, like, a secret girls club initiation like when we were little. Like, you know, when you’re kids.”

  “Ali doesn’t have to go through any initiations,” I say. “She’s passed all the tests she’s needed.”

  20

  ALI

  The next day in school, Blythe and Sean are huddled in A-wing near the library. She’s got her hair hanging down over half her face, and she’s whispering in his ear. What is she telling him? My mind switches to paranoia. I’m convinced they’re whispering about me.

  She doesn’t even notice me when I walk by—with her arms animated like a wild tornado—and in Sean Nessel’s company, why would she?

  She doesn’t notice me. But he does. His reaction is plastered and hard, as if he’s not looking at anything at all. Like I’m a window.

  My scrapbook with all my clips and heart collages and puppy love fantasies crash through my mind. I should have set it on fire.

  * * *

  * * *

  After school Raj is waiting for me in the parking lot. He’s giving me a ride home. Sammi’s already in the front seat. I get in the back.

  “What are you even doing here, Sammi?” I say, getting in the car. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Actually, I’m here because I miss you and I think you’re slightly misdirected and need emotional help.”

  “Oh, is that all?” I say. “At least we’re on the same page.”

  “You’ve been a shitty best friend, Ali.”

  Raj looks at me in the rearview mirror. He set me up for this confrontation.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” And I do love her. But my apology comes off as empty and defensive because I can’t feel. I’m numb.

  We’re quiet for a few minutes, the three of us. So I just blurt it out: “Blythe thinks me and Raj are fuck-buddies.” I don’t know why I tell them this. Now it’s out there and I can’t take it back.

  “Why are you letting Blythe determine anything about us at all?” Raj says.

  “When did you start hating on Blythe?”

  “When she started hunting you down. I don’t like it. It seems fake. She’s a fake.”

  Sammi makes weird grunting noises from the front seat. Her way of agreeing.

  “What’s the difference?” I say. Drifting off. Isn’t everyone fake?

  “Because I feel protective of you, all right?” Raj says.

  My face beams. I can feel my cheeks heating up. I’m blushing. I didn’t expect him to say that. Usually Sammi’s the protective one. The one to be scared of. Not Raj.

  “What is this, some kind of knight-on-a-white-horse situation and I’m just unaware of it?” Sammi says.

  “Relax, Sammi,” he says. “I’m not invading your territory.”

  I know I’m not supposed to want Raj to feel protective of me. I know that I can take care of myself. I know that my father has been teaching me that since, well, since my mom left. I also know that Raj couldn’t save me from a burning building, most likely, or save anything, for that matter, but I like it. I like that he said it.

  * * *

  * * *

  Blythe texts me late. She’s like a mermaid. Just showing up to shore when no one expects her.

  Drive around with me tonight?

  “Who is that from?” my dad says, trying to look at my phone. I cover it with my hand. “Sammi?”

  “Not Sammi.”

  “I haven’t seen Sammi around in a while.”

  “I was just with her today, Dad.”

  “So nothing is going on with her?”

  “No, everything’s fine.” Which wasn’t entirely true. But it was fine enough.

  “Ali— It’s okay if you got into a fight. That happens with friends,” he says. “I had a close friend once. This guy Arthur.”

  I laugh. “Dad. Stop.�


  “Really—his name was Arthur.”

  “His name was not Arthur.”

  “We called him Arty. Honest to God.”

  Blythe texts me again.

  Answer, bitch. I’m coming to your house in 5 and flicking on my brights twice. Bat signal.

  I get up from the table. The chair squeaks on the floor. “I finished all my homework. Blythe is going to pick me up in five minutes. You can tell me about Arty another time.”

  “It’s eight o’clock at night.”

  “I’ll be back in, like, forty-five minutes.”

  I walk into the front hall and slip on my Converse. I don’t even get permission. He just allows it. I hope we’re not going to anyone’s house. My hair is in a high bun. I’m wearing a ratty sweatshirt. No bra.

  “I promise, Dad,” I say. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

  I also know that’ll never happen.

  * * *

  * * *

  I get in the car with Blythe, and she zooms down my block. The dry leaves on the street kick up behind her.

  “So, Ali. Are you going to the dance?”

  This seems to come out of nowhere. Not once have I heard her talking about the dance. The gym, dark and shadowy. Lights flashing. Everyone sweating, jumping up and down. The music blaring. It’s the last thing I want to think about right now.

  “Is this why we’re driving around? For you to ask me about the dance?”

  “Did I tell you I’m going dress shopping with my mom?”

  “No. I didn’t know you spent any time with her.”

  “She used to be a fashion designer, so it’s the one thing we can talk about. Clothes is our thing. We shop together. Plus, we don’t have to have a real discussion if it’s around fashion. Isn’t that nice?” she says, irritated. “Such bullshit.”

  I don’t say anything.

 

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