The center of her forehead creases. “It wasn’t.” She tugs me back toward her.
“What was that then?”
Madison smiles against my mouth. “That was a promise.”
My car stops moving. We’ve reached the end of our tunnel of love. I shift into drive. “What kind of promise?”
The carwash attendant glares at me as we circle around toward the exit. The line of cars is now twice as long as the one we had to wait in.
“That I’ll end things with Miles,” she says as I pull back onto the main drag.
“Seriously?”
Madison laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
I shake my head. “I had a whole speech prepared about how you can’t be with the both of us. How that even though I hate that d-bag it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on.” I pause and then add, “I mean, if things went the way I hoped.”
“Well if we’re being totally honest here, I didn’t plan this. I wanted to talk to you today to tell you that the kiss at the theater was a mistake, but kissing you just now made me realize that maybe it wasn’t.” The way the afternoon sunlight is shining on her hair makes my heart all melty. She really is the hottest girl in Oak Bluffs. And she wants to be with me. Take that, assmonkeys. After a long moment she asks, “Can we take it slow?”
The light turns green. “Of course. As slow as you want. You can lead.”
“The thing is, no one can know about us.” Her voice drops, “That we’re seeing each other. That is risk I’m not willing to take. Not right now.”
Her plea for secrecy sinks like a rock in my gut. I finally get the girl but no one can know? This fucking blows. “What are you so afraid of?”
She shakes her head and her ponytail swishes just like in the shampoo commercials. “I’m not blind. I know how people treat you and Scott. I’m worried.”
“That is what we’re trying to fix with Lion Pride. Besides, just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean you’re gay.”
“It’s not just that. No one will vote for a Prom Queen with a girlfriend.”
“Sure they will. You’re still you. No one is going to fuck with you like they did us. We were easy targets. You practically rule this school. I think us being together could be something positive for the school.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t want to lose my chance at Prom Queen. It’s a big deal in my family. It’s like a legacy.”
I pull into the center of the Boulevard and flip my blinker on before taking a hard left into Madison’s ritzy neighborhood. “Why is it such a big deal?”
She sighs. “If you knew my family, you’d understand. It just is. If anything got in the way of me being Prom Queen, or my soccer scholarship. They’d disown me.”
I stop at a red light. “I can kind of see the Prom Queen thing, but a soccer scholarship? How will having a girlfriend fuck that up?”
“It’s not finalized and I don’t want anything to jeopardize my chances. I’ve heard stories of coaches revoking scholarships for random reasons—like drinking and stuff— and I don’t want mine to just disappear.”
“Because the coach is a homophobe,” I supply.
“Yeah.”
Madison’s street is lined with McMansions and perfectly manicured lawns. Everything looks perfect here. I don’t fit in but that doesn’t bother me. I don’t want Madison to go through the same shitstorms Scott and I have gone through these last few years. I want to protect her from all the hate. No matter how big Macklemore’s “Same Love” is, it doesn’t mean shit here.
“I know what it’s like to deal with homophobic pricks,” I say.
“So can we keep it on the DL?” she asks.
“Yes.” And even though I’m agreeing to keep the fact that I’m with the prettiest girl in school a secret, I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“I’m serious, Avery. No one at school can even guess at what’s happening. Not even Scott. I know you guys are BFF’s and all, but you can’t talk to him about this.”
“I don’t like to keep things from him,” I say.
“Please,” Her voice cracks and I know that this is a secret I will keep from him. Madison’s hand covers mine as I pull up to her house.
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
I lift our entwined hands and press my lips to the smooth skin above her wrist. I breathe in orange blossoms. “I promise.”
THREE HOURS LATER I sing along to Taylor Swift as I drive up the highway to Monica’s for practice. “Welcome to New York” is on repeat and each time the song restarts my mood lifts even higher. The last two weeks with the band have been tense. Each time Janet brings up Austin, I shut it down. She blames my grudge on the song, and she’s partially right. We have no future as a band if they aren’t willing to experiment with our sound. DTG won’t last five minutes in Austin if we don’t start to evolve. When I get to practice, Janet and Monica are in the garage, throwing darts at picture of a redhead. “Who’s that?” I point to the photo.
Monica’s dart misses the picture by a mile and falls to the ground after hitting the cement wall. “Breaking news. Janet is single again.”
“What happened?” I place both of my guitar cases on the rug. “I didn’t know you were serious with anyone.”
“I wasn’t and then I was and now I’m not.” Janet’s dart hits her mark. “Karen got back with her ex-girlfriend.”
Monica gives me a pointed look “Who also happens to be one of Janet’s exes. You remember Sophie, right? Her picture is next.”
“Speaking of girlfriends, or lack thereof,” I start. “I took your advice and wrote a new song.” It’s risky unveiling something new so soon after Janet’s last wrath, but watching Madison take a chance on me has me willing to give it another go.
Janet throws her last dart before turning to me with mascara-smudged raccoon eyes. She is wearing a men’s white undershirt and USF sweatpants, both of which look slept in. She must have really liked this girl. “Are you gonna play this song or what?” Janet snaps, her arms folded over her chest. Even in flip flops she towers over me and Monica. Maybe I should wait, I think. Last time Janet was impatient and in a mood and hated my song for Madison. She’s already testy.
“Let’s hear it, Avery.” Monica’s smile is the reassurance I need.
Monica flops onto the couch and I set up my electric guitar. “So this is obviously a little rough, and there’s no title yet,” I say, then launch into the song. I started writing it in my head pretty much the minute after I dropped Madison off at her house. By the time I got home I could picture the music, a mix of early Ramones with a few simple chords and some Sleater-Kinney wailing thrown in for good measure.
You wanna be my girlfriend but you have a boyfriend
I’m not playing games so you don’t have to pretend
I sing with my eyes closed. I can’t bear to watch their reactions yet.
Oh oh, oh oh, light me on fire
Can ya get me higher
Oh oh, oh oh.
The last chord lingers and then there is a moment of silence. The energy from the song evaporates from my body. I’m terrified of what Janet is going to say.
“When did you write that?” she asks.
I open my eyes. Janet and Monica are sitting on the edge of the couch cushions, leaning toward me. “Like two hours ago. Was it that bad?”
“No, Avery,” Monica says. “That was fucking amazeballs. It was like you were channeling Corin Tucker and early Sleater-Kinney there.”
“That was my intent,” I say.
“This is the kind of music we need to be playing,” Monica says.
Janet nods. “This is the kind of music that will get us a label.” She wipes at her eyes as a slow, sad smile crosses her. “Let’s go put a beat behind that beast.”
We spend the entire practice ignoring our set list for tomorrow night and working on “Girlfriend,” which Janet dubs “the song.” Monica comes up with an incredible riff for the intro and Janet cr
eates a drum solo that seriously feeds my soul. We wind up rewriting the chorus twice. It’s in these moments of collaboration that it makes it seem like we’re a real band. Like we have each other’s backs. It’s the first time we’ve ever really created a song together. Maybe we could evolve after all. I feel a flash of guilt. I should tell them about the Alzheimer’s café gig coming up, but I don’t want to rock the boat right after we created something so good.
When practice ends I check for a text from Madison. Nothing from her but there is one from Scott.
Meeting Jeremy20 at Lou’s Diner in St. Pete right now. If I don’t text you in 3hrs he prob killed me & dumped me off the Pier. Love u.
When Scott started meeting up with guys he met online I made him swear to me that he would always text me where he was going and who he was meeting anytime he had a date. I’ve watched enough Datelines with my mom to be cautious.
Be safe, I text back.
Monica is packing her bass. Janet is already wearing her leather coat. “You think we’re ready to debut “Girlfriend” at tomorrow’s show?” I ask. We booked a show with a few other bands at a storage container in Lakeland. Florida Southern College kids know how to party.
Monica nods. “Hell yes. I think that after we open with “I’m So Excited,” we should jump into “Girlfriend” and then do “Stadium Love.” “Girlfriend” is so fucking brilliant that I think we can get away with breaking up our first cover set. Yeah?”
“Fine by me,” I say, looking at Janet, whose vote will determine the fate of my song in our set list.
She shrugs. “Why the hell not?” She takes a dart from the picture on the dartboard and launches it straight at her ex-girlfriend’s face.
SCOTT IS HANGING out with my mom on the couch when I get home from practice. This is not an unusual sight since Scott is pretty much a staple at my house.
This week’s episode of Scandal is playing on mute. Mom is eating out of a takeout container. “How was practice?” she asks around a mouthful of noodles. Another noodle dangles from her wooden chopsticks.
“It was good,” I say, plopping down on the couch between them.
“Want some chow mein?” She asks holding the takeout container toward me.
“What else you got?”
Scott picks up another container. “There’s some chicken fried rice, egg rolls and this delicious garlic chicken.” He pauses and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you shouldn’t eat it if you have plans.”
“I don’t have any plans,” I say and grab the container of garlic chicken from him. “I take it that your date with Jeremy20 wasn’t so hot.”
“Nope,” he says as he takes a fork and spears a piece of chicken from the container in my hands. “But at least pieces of my body aren’t floating in Tampa Bay.”
“You and your silver linings,” I say. “What happened?”
“Ugh.” Scott scrunches his face. “He did not match his photo. Who is bald at 20? And he ordered a hamburger and mashed it in ketchup on his plate like he was killing it. He talked nonstop about the science lab he’s working at on the St. Pete campus and he chewed with his mouth open.”
“You mean like this,” I say and show him a mouthful of garlic chicken.
“Avery, don’t be gross,” Mom warns with a wry smile.
“On you it is endearing,” Scott says. “On him it was borderline serial killer.” He shudders. “I couldn’t even eat my grilled cheese sandwich, hence all of this food,” he says gesturing to the variety of takeout containers on the coffee table. “As soon as I was back in the Oak Bluffs city limits I had a craving for Happy Dragon. I might have gone a little overboard.”
“You think?” I ask and take a spring roll. “How did you get out of the date?”
“Would you believe his cell rang and there was an emergency at the lab? Something caught on fire.”
The spring roll is cold but I eat it anyway. “No way. That had to be staged, right?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Scott says. “Then he started freaking out and dropped two twenties on the table and apologized before running out of the diner.”
The puzzle pieces fall into place. “So what you’re telling us is that Jeremy20 bought our dinner tonight.”
“Yep.” Scott raises his Coke bottle. “Thank you Jeremy20.”
Mom holds up her white wine. “Thank you Jeremy20.”
I roll my eyes at her attempt to be cool.
“One of these days they’ll stick like that,” Mom says.
“That’s what I keeping saying,” Scott adds. I roll them again out of spite.
Mom takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Long day?” I ask.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. We had two funerals and Linda is on vacation with Paul until next Friday. And there’s the Anderson wedding tomorrow. To top it off David has the flu.” David is one of her floral designers. He’s her version of Scott only middle-aged and not as funny.
“You don’t need help tomorrow, do you?” Scott asks.
My mom visibly relaxes and puts her glasses back on. “You don’t mind?”
“Nah,” Scott says. “I’ve got nothing until the show tomorrow night.” He smiles mischievously. “Besides if I’m helping you tomorrow I don’t have to help my parents do yard work. Winning.”
I ask, “How is bleaching buckets and sweeping up stems any different than yard work? You’re still doing manual labor.”
“Number one: I’m indoors. Number two: I avoid my parents. And number three: I don’t do yard work.” His delivery is deadpan and I can’t keep from laughing. Like me, Scott doesn’t believe in sweating.
My mom gathers the empty takeout containers and her chopsticks. “I’ll see you at ten then, Scott. Avery, you’re on cleanup. I’m going to go soak my feet.” She smiles at me. “Good luck at your show. Night, kids.”
“Night,” I call as she leaves.
Once she is out of earshot Scott asks, “So what was that thing with Madison today?”
“Nothing.”
“Right,” Scott says. “I can tell when you’re lying. You guys are friends now?”
“What? Are you jealous or something?”
“Or something,” Scott says.
“I can have friends other than you,” I say. Scott pouts and I add, “But I can only have one bestie.”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Just as long as you’re not replacing me.” He turns the volume up on the TV. I’m not into Scandal nearly as much as my mom and Scott are. I watch it only because I have a serious crush on Kerry Washington.
My cell buzzes with a text. It’s Madison. I broke up with Miles.
I type back Cool even though I just want to hit the exclamation mark ten times. “Who texted you?” Scott asks. His eyes are still glued to the screen. “I would cut a bitch for Olivia’s white coat.”
“Janet.”
“You just saw her. So are you guys cool now? Since when does she actually text you?”
“Yeah we are.” I fire off another text. You should come to the show tomorrow. It’s in Lakeland. “Since this girl, Karen, she was seeing went back to her ex who also happens to be Janet’s ex. You remember Sophie, right? The one with the Jennifer Lawrence baby face?”
“Right.” Scott says and then pauses for dramatic effect. “Scandal.”
Madison replies Can’t. Promised Brad we would hang out. He’s home this weekend.
“God, Janet is sure is blowing up your phone tonight. If you hadn’t just sworn that I was your only bestie I might have a jealous fit.” Scott grins at me, then yells at the screen. “Don’t trust him, Liv. That guy is bad news.”
“You should have seen her tonight. She was wearing sweatpants.”
Bring him to the show, I type. It’s all ages.
“Janet in sweatpants? Is that a sign of the Apocalypse? Because if it is, I’m totally unprepared. I need one last haircut before the world ends. I can’t die with bad hair.”
Maybe, Madison says. It seems risky. What do I t
ell him?
Tell him we’re playing Prom and you have to check us out. I don’t want to wait until Monday to see you again.
“You never have bad hair,” I tell Scott. “If you’re worried I can cut it for you.”
“Bitch, please,” Scott says. “You cutting my hair would be the end of our friendship because I would have to disown you for giving me a shitty haircut.”
“My hair isn’t shitty and I cut it myself,” I defend.
Scott starts laughing so hard tears leak out of his eyes. I try to kick him but my aim is off and I send a half-empty carton of chicken fried rice careening off the table and onto the living room carpet.
“Are you sure about that?” he stands and starts laughing all over again. He holds onto his side, gasping for air. “I. Think. I’m. Dying,” he wheezes.
“Good. You deserve it for dissing my hair.” I kick at him again knocking the last egg roll to the floor.
Scott bends over and retrieves it before taking a bite. “Have fun cleaning up.” He mimes dropping a mic on the ground. “Brown. Out.”
MADISON NEVER MADE it to the show Saturday night. It wasn’t like she’d promised that she’d be there, but I had wished that she would show up. I wanted her to hear “Girlfriend.” I wanted to watch her face as the crowd went apeshit for the song she inspired. I wanted to share the moment with her. As awesome as it was to watch complete strangers dancing to a song we’d just written, I couldn’t help but feel empty by her absence. She didn’t even reply to my texts until Sunday night. I’d started to worry that I’d fictionalized Friday afternoon. That those kisses in the carwash were wishful thinking on my part. Then she texted to say that she’d lost her phone in an Applebee’s parking lot and by the time she found it, it’d been roadkill.
Roadkill. That’s how my heart feels right now watching her across the hall. She’s leaning against her locker talking to Maura and wearing a navy blue polo dress with her pink flip-flops. Her hair is caught up in some kind of braid that is begging to be unraveled.
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