License to Spill

by Lisi Harrison

  I say being a girl seems hard.

  She says, You’re not kidding.

  And I’m not.

  That feels good.

  Monday, November 5, 2012

  I waited until Duffy left with the dogs before going over. Yes I, Lily Bader-Huffman, wanted to avoid him. That’s how mortified I am. And when I think about how he found out… how long he’s known… who Mandy might have told…

  SHUDDER. CLENCH. CRINGE!

  I can’t even write about it. It’s too soon.

  The plan was to get my skateboard and laptop with haste and then live in a cave until graduation. Only that didn’t happen. The moment Mandy opened the door I began to sob.

  She offered me a seat on the edge of her bed and encouraged me to let it out. I did, with projectile vomit–like force.

  “It’s the pressure.…”

  “I know.” Mandy placed a hand on my back. “Ew, itchy,” she said, removing it. “You need some cashmere in that blend.”

  “Sorry,” I said, not really sure what for. “It’s so much harder than I thought. All the rules and expectations. There are literally hundreds of ways to make mistakes and zero ways to correct them.”

  Her narrow Kate Hudson eyes narrowed even more as she squint-nodded in agreement.

  “It’s like if we’re not perfect we’re nothing, you know.” I sniffled. “But who’s perfect? I mean, everyone tries, but who really is? Why is that even the goal?”

  “Wait until you’re a junior. It’s worse.”

  “I think that’s why I wanted to hang with your brother so badly, you know? Like, if I was with a cool guy I wouldn’t feel so…”

  “Single?” Mandy said.

  I was going to say lost, but single worked too. I sighed. “The anxiety got to me.”

  “How could it not?” Mandy said. “Our lives are all about GPAs, and practices, and clubs, and fund-raising, and… stress!” She was pacing now, powered by the strength of her conviction. “We should change Advanced Placement classes to Aliminate Pressure classes, because if college is such a fundamental right, shouldn’t we get accepted no matter what?”

  Did she really think “eliminate” was spelled with an A, that college was a fundamental right, and that I was talking about academic pressure, not social? I could have set her straight, but Mandy Duffy was looking at me, not through me, and I didn’t want that to stop. “Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero,” I said.

  “Is that tongues?” she asked.

  “Latin,” I said. “It means ‘Seize the day, trusting little to the future.’ It’s from a poem by Horace. It’s about living in the moment.”

  “How do you know it?”

  “AP English, how else?” I said, as if resentful.

  “Can I mention it in my next blog?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I sniffled. “Call it Horace Power.”

  Mandy was so grateful for the title she gave me a bottle of gold nail polish and a hug. Both made me feel a tiny bit closer to belonging. They also made me wonder if I’ve been focused on the wrong Duffy.

  11.5.12

  INT. THE SPENCER HOME—KITCHEN FLOOR—NIGHT.

  SHERIDAN sits on the cold tiles and watches her cinnamon crescent rolls bake. Her head appears twisted in the oven’s aluminum finish; a distortion of her looks, but a true reflection of how she feels.

  The one time I don’t want an audience and—ta-da!—there’s Jagger. Audri should have said Tonight’s showing of Sheridan’s Superlatively Pathetic Life isn’t open to the public, but she offered him a front-row seat instead.

  So there I am Meryl Weeping about everything and rather than offering some cool male perspective, Jagger says I look bloated. And you know what Audri says? She says, Seriously.

  The whole thing makes me want to B.U.R.B.F. Because when you Become UR own Best Friend you send a message to the world that says, I am president of my own fan club, I keep my own secrets, and I am constantly channeling the lyrics from Christina Aguilera’s song “Beautiful.” Did you hear that, people? Words can’t bring me down!

  The oven is buzzing! What do you know? My crescent rolls have risen and so have my spirits. Time to channel a Chinese dog and chow.

  TAKE FIVE.

  CUT.

  INT. THE SPENCER HOME—KITCHEN BAR—TWENTY MINUTES LATER.

  SHERIDAN licks her cinnamon-flavored fingers then puts quill to paper.

  Audri just texted to apologize for dropping the Jagger-bomb on me. I responded with a B.U.R.B.F.-inspired All good and a thumbs-up Emoji. She said I sounded much better and wanted to know why. I said I’d fill her in tomorrow. I think she feels threatened by my newfound independence, because she’s bringing me a chai latte for our walk to school and usually she only brings one for herself.

  SHERIDAN puts down her quill and high-fives herself. Her phone rings. It’s DUFFY.

  Hello?

  Hey.

  Hey. (Me.) In my best I’m-not-at-all-bummed-about-the-Big-Gulp-incident voice. What’s up?

  Nothing. Just walking Fleas Navidad and Saint Tick.

  Those names crack me up so I laugh. Then I stop and it’s quiet.

  Hello? (Me.)

  Hey.

  Oh, I thought you hung up or something.

  Why?

  I didn’t hear anything.

  Oh.

  More silence. It’s awkward. I begin to wonder if he regrets calling me… then why he called me in the first place… then why he hasn’t called sooner.…

  I lick the icing off the last crescent roll.

  Did you hear anything about your audition? (Duffy.)

  No. I’m kind of freaking.

  I was like that after I tried out for the Flames.

  Really?

  Yeah.

  But you made it.

  You will too. (Duffy competing with my crescent roll icing for sweetest thing ever.) You have my lucky ring, remember.

  (Gulp.)

  Unless you gave that one to Audri too.

  Ha! Nope. (Me, freaking.) Where did you get it, anyway? My brothers want one.

  For some reason this made Duffy very happy. He gave me the web address and even a promo code. I thanked him and then said I was going to hang up and order them right away.

  Wait, before you go. (Duffy.) I was wondering if you want to hang out sometime? You know, just us.

  Sure. (Me, trying not to sound excited.)

  Cool. (Duffy, trying not to sound excited.) Saturday? Like a movie or something?

  I squealed with delight when we hung up. I was about to call my best friend and tell her the news when I realized she was already here.

  CUE SOUND EFFECT:

  Awwwwww.

  To Be Continued…

  END SCENE.

  Monday

  I’m outside with Fleas Navidad and Saint Tick (Hud came up with those names) when I see Lily leaving my house. I hide behind the car until she’s gone. Then I run inside, close the shades, and run up to Mandy’s room.

  The sign on her door says CAREFUL OR YOU’LL END UP IN MY BLOG. She hangs it there whenever she’s working on a post. She says interruptions throw her.

  Feeling = I don’t care if I throw her or not. I’m going in.

  ME: What was Lily doing here?

  MANDY: Helping Mom fold your underwear.

  ME: What?

  MANDY: Hashtag kidding. She left a few things here by accident.

  ME: Accident?

  Feeling = If I was the kind of dude who made air quotes I would have made them there.

  ME: Mandy, you can’t fall for her excuses. She’s a psycho.

  MANDY: Was a psycho. She’s over all that.

  ME: How do you know?

  MANDY: She told me.

  ME: You know how honest psychos are.

  MANDY: She was telling the truth. Trust me. I read people the way you read… cereal boxes.

  Feeling = I love reading cereal boxes while I’m eating breakfast. Word searches are my favorite.

  ME: Keep
her away from me. That girl has crazy in her eyes.

  MANDY: She just needs some mascara. I think she’s one makeover away from serious potential. Do you know she speaks Latin?

  ME: Do you know I just farted on your pillow?

  MANDY: Gross!

  She whipped a magazine at me. It smelled like old-lady perfume. I whipped it back.

  MANDY: How are you ever going to find a girlfriend?

  ME: Um, no problems there.

  Feeling = I wanted to pour hot sauce in my own mouth for saying something that slick. But Mandy thinks she’s the only hot Duffy, and she’s not. I have three S’s: Sheridan, Screamers, and a Stalker! All she has is a boyfriend named Gardner and random dudes who stare.

  MANDY: When’s the last time you went on a date? Or should I say, when’s the first time you went on a date?

  ME: I happen to have something lined up this weekend.

  MANDY: Laser tag with Hud and Coops doesn’t count.

  ME: Try a movie with Sheridan Spencer.

  MANDY: @AndrewDuffy43 is taking @Sheridan_Star on a date? She’s legitimately cute.

  Feeling = Who talks like that??

  MANDY: Wait. I don’t believe you. When?

  ME: Saturday night.

  MANDY: Better change that to Friday.

  ME: Can’t. We play Pinedale.

  MANDY: Better cancel, then. Amelia’s coming home from Barnard Saturday, remember?

  ME: That’s this Saturday?

  MANDY: Like I said, you’ll never find a girlfriend.

  Literally two minutes after I spoke to Duffy.

  INT. THE SPENCER HOME—KITCHEN.

  SHERIDAN asks her FATHER for his VISA so she can get a jump on her holiday shopping. He agrees that the TOOLERY rings would be perfect for MAX and HENRY. In fact, he thinks his salesmen and VIP customers will like them too. He asks SHERIDAN to order twenty.

  I was starting to think my run of bad luck was over until Duffy called back to cancel our date. He claims his sister will be home from college for one night, but I don’t believe him. I think he told his buddies about us and they told him he was crazy for tying himself down. They probably reminded him that he has much better options, and he agreed.

  So you know what I did? I called his bluff and said I’d love to meet his sister. He sounded surprised and he stammered a bit, but eventually he said okay.

  Now I’m freaking out because I think I just forced him to hang with me and he clearly doesn’t want to. Cheeses! I was more confident when Duffy and I were just friends. Now that he likes me I’m totally insecure. Now what do I do? Call him back? Text? Call Audri? I know I should ask my inner BF, but she’s just as flummoxed as I am.

  To Be Continued…

  END SCENE.

  Tuesday, November 6, 2012

  Who’s the stalker now?

  I always knew Mike was possessive so I’ve been sending his calls directly to voice jail; do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Because he’s the kind of guy who will go back to stink-eyeing me the minute Blake’s gay break is over.

  But tonight Mike played dirty and called the house phone. Mom, thinking he was a potential suitor, insisted I take the call.

  “Seriously?” he said when I picked up. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

  “Why have you been harassing me?”

  “Lilian!” Mom snapped.

  I locked myself in the upstairs bathroom and ran the shower.

  “I’m harassing you because I need my blazer back.”

  “As soon as you return that hour I wasted with you at the mall.”

  “I’m not kidding, Lily.”

  “Neither am I, Mike. We had a deal. Anyway, I don’t have it anymore.”

  “What? Where is it?”

  “I gave it to Blake.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it would make him miss you.”

  “Ohgodohgodohgod,” he mumbled. “What did he say?”

  “He wasn’t home. I left a note that said: Inhale the cheap cologne on this collar. Remember who you are. Remember who you love. Remember to call me. I have life-changing news.”

  “It’s not cheap, it’s Calvin Klein,” Mike said. And then, “Did he call you?”

  “No. But he will.”

  I expected Mike to thank me for my efforts, but all he said was, “Just get it back, okay?” Then the line went dead.

  Thank god for Algebra homework. It’s the only thing left in my world that still makes sense.

  November 7th

  Forgive me, Journal, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last entry. Like you, I expected my first kiss with Blake to inspire elegantly crafted musings on young love that I would name Food Court Courting. But alas, my hands96 have been far too shaky to control a pen, due to a major oversight on my part.

  Making the first move on Blake was a massive error. Obvious reasons97 aside, I forgot that forcing Lily to witness our passion would stoke her jealousy fire. Thusly, leading to more snail-mail threats and eventually turning me in. Hence, my three-day battle with shaking paranoia.

  Then Blake shows up today wearing her ill-fitting blazer, and I know she has weaseled her way back in. Simply put, I was losing and losing makes me itch. So now I’m itchy and shaking, which makes it hard to scratch with precision. By lunch I had a hole in my blouse.

  I told Blake I was embarrassed by the hole and asked if I could wear his blazer. Mostly because I needed another layer between my nails and skin, but also to see if he cared enough about me to upset Lily.

  Journal, I know what you’re thinking—Vanessa let her ego and unequivocal need to win get in the way of her better judgment—again!—thusly creating another opportunity for Lily to seek revenge.

  And you know what, Journal, you would be right, if the moment98 I put on said ill-fitting blazer hadn’t provided me with enough evidence to shut Lily down. But it did.

  So you’re not right, Journal. You’re wrong. I’m right.

  Thursday, November 8, 2012

  A sudden thunk woke me up. Then silence. The world was unusually quiet for 11:18 AM. Eleven eighteen!!! I shot out of bed in a panic and stepped on a note from Mom.

  Don’t panic. I shut off your alarm. Snow day.

  I started to think about all the work I could have done if I had known about this; two more hours last night, six more this morning… when I heard another thunk.

  I expected to find a Rorschach of bird guts and feathers on my window, but saw Blake Marcus instead. Like a snow-globe figurine, he was dressed in festive J.Crew outerwear, which included but was not limited to a faux-fur hat with dangling pom-poms and red lace-up boots. He was standing next to an igloo with a blue spray-painted peace sign on top.

  I closed the blinds and went back to bed.

  Thursday, November 8, 2012

  Kidding. I was so excited I hurried downstairs in my pajamas, threw two mugs of instant hot chocolate in the microwave, and ran outside in Dad’s puffy coat and Mom’s Sasquatch boots.

  “What are you wearing?” Blake asked, like the whole Pub-fart thing never happened.

  “How’d you get so tanned?”

  “Windburn.”

  “Good,” I said, handing him a mug. “I hope it ages you prematurely.”

  “Igloo?”

  I nodded. He led the way.

  Outdoor survival had been one of the many things we learned as Homies. The interior flair—including but not limited to fold-out chairs, Navaho throws, and sheepskin rug—was all Blake. “What do you think?”

  We were sitting knee-to-knee sipping our hot chocolates but I still couldn’t warm to him. My anger needed another minute to thaw.

  “Blake,” I finally said. “Mandy told everyone you’re gay, not me, and not Duffy.”

  “But you told Duffy. A guy you didn’t even know. A guy who doesn’t even—”

  “A guy who doesn’t even like me back?”

  He shrugged like you-said-it-I-didn’t. I wanted to throw my mug at his fa
ce.

  “I’m sorry I betrayed you. I feel terrible,” I said. “Tell me, Blake. How do you handle the guilt?”

  “What guilt?”

  “Betraying a friend.”

  “Huh?” he said.

  “You know, leading Vanessa on.”

  “How am I leading her on?”

  “Oh please. Hand-holding during lunch, hand-holding between classes, making out at the mall!”

  “She told you that?”

  “I was there, Blake. I saw you. I was having lunch with Mike. You remember him, right? The guy you were in love with before you took a break from gay?”

  “Did he see?”

  “No, I distracted him,” I said. “For his sake, not yours.”

  “Thank you,” he muttered. His brown eyes looked hard, dull.

  “That’s what ex–best friends are for,” I joked.

  Neither one of us laughed.

  I lowered my eyes and fussed with the fringe on my blanket. “I’m sorry I told Duffy.”

  “I’m sorry I ignored you like that.”

  I looked up. Tears rolled down. “You are?”

  “I miss you, Lil. The second I smelled that blazer and read your note… I…”

  “I knew that would get you,” I sparked.

  Blake sighed. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So are you,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Now what?”

  “You could start by taking a break from straight,” I said.

  “If you take a break from outing me.”

  “If you take a break from having Coxsackie.”

  “If you take a break from giving it to me.”

  “If you take a break from—”

  “Shhh.” Blake’s smile fell. “Did you hear that?”

  Pant, sniff, stab, slide. Pant, sniff, stab, slide. Pant, sniff, stab, slide…

  We leaned toward the opening of the igloo, but not close enough to see anything for fear of being spotted. As the rhythm grew louder we leaned even closer.

  We exchanged a wide-eyed gaze. What is that?

  I needed to know. Silently, I counted to three.

  One… two… When I got to three I shoved Blake out. He landed tanned-face-first in the snow. The sound of Blake’s machine-gun laugh and my cackle struck me like a forgotten flash from last night’s dream.

  “How unequivocally stupid do you think I am?” shouted a girl’s voice. She was shuffling toward us on cross-country skis. Her red snow jacket and matching pants were stuffed full of so many layers her torso took on the shape of an egg. When I spotted her white mittens I couldn’t resist.