P.S. I Miss You

by Jen Petro-Roy

  I went over the script in my head once more. Then I imagined Maggie holding up her cross necklace and yelling that I was a sinner. I imagined Katie laughing and telling the whole school. I even imagined hidden microphones in the bushes that would broadcast my confession to the whole town.

  So I didn’t say anything. I made up some excuse about wanting them to help me plan a birthday party for June. June’s birthday isn’t even until August, so my story made no sense. They didn’t notice, though, because a second later, Maggie’s mom pulled up, yelling that they were late.

  And I was all alone.

  I’ll try to tell them again soon.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  THURSDAY, MAY 9TH

  Dear Cilla,

  Mom and Dad are acting really weird lately. Like even weirder than normal. Mom’s not cooking and watching renovation shows as much, but now she spends her time hovering around me. Like I’m a toddler and she’s afraid I’m going to climb up the curtains. Or eat one of the shiny decorative rocks on the coffee table.

  Dad keeps gritting his teeth every time he looks at me. When he looks at me, I mean.

  I keep trying to convince myself I’m being hypersensitive, that I’m imagining all this because I think they’re going to hate me.

  Then I look over my shoulder and see Mom.

  Then Dad leaves a room just as I’m going in.

  And I get scared all over again.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. Where are you, Cilla? I miss you.

  FRIDAY, MAY 10TH

  Dear Cilla,

  Telling Katie and Maggie is going to be scary. It’s so much easier to tell you stuff in these letters. Because I don’t have to see you. Because there’s a gap between me writing the words and you reading them. In a way, it’s like I’m really telling nobody.

  Nobody doesn’t judge me.

  Nobody doesn’t think I’m going straight to Hell for holding a girl’s hand.

  Nobody doesn’t stop speaking to me or send me away to live in a home for lesbian middle schoolers. (Do they have those?)

  Nobody doesn’t give hugs, though. Or advice.

  Talking to nobody is lonely.

  So I’m going to tell somebody else. For real this time.

  Then I’m going to go find you. Because this is getting ridiculous. I haven’t seen you or heard your voice since June. That’s almost a year. A year is a long time. A lot can happen in a year.

  I don’t want a year to turn into more.

  Plus, Katie and Maggie don’t know Mom and Dad like you do. And I need advice. I need to know whether I should tell them the truth.

  And what’s going to happen if I do.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  SUNDAY, MAY 12TH

  Dear Cilla,

  I did it! I did it! I told Katie and Maggie and they were … okay, I guess? They were definitely surprised. Shocked even. But then happy. (I think.)

  After that first time chickening out, I e-mailed Katie and Maggie. I asked them when they were free and we decided on a date and time to meet at the park. I wrote it on my calendar in black marker, too, so there’d be no way to get scared and cancel.

  Then I called June to see if she was free, since I wanted her there for moral support. Of course I’d picked the one afternoon she was busy. It was something she couldn’t back out of, either—her grandma and uncle were visiting and they were all having a special lunch.

  June told me to tell them without her, though. She said Katie and Maggie were my friends, and that if they judged me, they weren’t true friends anyway. Which I knew, obviously, but I guess the words hadn’t traveled from my head down to my heart. Fear got in the way, because thinking about a world without Katie and Maggie (even if we haven’t talked much lately) is awful.

  But a world without June would make me sad, too.

  So we met at the park. The daffodils and crocuses were blooming and there were even a few ducks swimming around the pond. A little boy and his mother threw crusts into the water.

  Do you remember when we used to do that? Mom would save the butts of the bread, and we’d shove a bunch into a paper bag to bring with us. We named the ducks, too: Freddie, Delilah, Marjorie, and Supergirl. You named the first three and I named the last one.

  Supergirl was the coolest duck. She had that dark yellow spot on her in the shape of an S.

  I pretended I had the courage of Supergirl when Katie and Maggie walked up. I said the exact words I’d planned, right away, so I wouldn’t lose my nerve.

  Katie’s jaw dropped.

  Maggie’s eyes opened wide.

  “Really?” Katie asked.

  “You like girls?” Maggie asked. “Like like them? Like you want to kiss them?”

  “So you’re a lesbian?” Katie didn’t say it like Mom does. Like the cook at Applebee’s accidentally put mayonnaise on her hamburger. Or like Dad does. Like when it rains on a day he has an Ultimate game.

  They weren’t running away and screaming. That was a good sign. “I think so,” I said. “I mean, I have kissed one.”

  “What?” Maggie shrieked. “You got your first kiss before me?” She shoved me on the shoulder, but not like she was mad at me. Like we were friends.

  (Which we still are!)

  I think I blushed, because it felt like I was sitting in front of a fireplace. “One kiss!” I said.

  “Who was it?” Katie bounced up and down. Her curly ponytail swung back and forth. “This is so cool. First me and Ethan, then Maggie and Dominic, and now Evie and whoever!”

  It was the best thing ever. Katie and Maggie acted like I’d just confessed to liking a boy, like everything was totally normal.

  I told them about June. (Katie groaned. “Of course! It’s so obvious now!”)

  I told them about you.

  They were cool. They were awesome.

  They are my best friends.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  P.P.S. Katie and Maggie agree that I need to see you in person. We came up with a plan, too. It was like the musical hadn’t happened, like we hadn’t barely talked in months. It was the best.

  TUESDAY, MAY 14TH

  Dear Cilla,

  I stopped at the high school after school today. That was the first step of our plan. Class had been out for almost an hour, but there were still kids around. I wore my black raincoat and my darkest pair of sunglasses. I even took one of Dad’s baseball hats to wear on my head. I didn’t want anyone to recognize me, in case word got back to Mom and Dad. If they knew I was looking for Alex, I’d be grounded for a year. Maybe five years. I decided it’d be worth it, though, if Alex could help me figure out what’s going on with you. Or if he had any idea where your baby is. (After all, she’s his daughter, too.)

  Maybe he’d agree to drive me to Saint Augustine’s.

  I knew Alex was on the baseball team last year, so I headed for the fields behind the high school. Practice was still going on, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

  I was dressed like a spy, with dark sunglasses and a baseball hat. I made sure the collar of my coat was up high, too. It was a silly disguise, but no one seemed to recognize me. Plus it made me feel super sneaky. I decided to risk breaking my cover when one of the players ran to the dugout for some water. I crooked my finger at him and he trotted over.

  The boy said that Alex wasn’t on the team anymore! He didn’t even try out this year, which is really weird. Alex never shut up about baseball. He has a Red Sox shirt for every day of the week. Or he did. I haven’t seen him at church in a while.

  Anyway, Alex wasn’t at school. And even though I could have gone to his house to see him, that seemed too risky. Like I was wearing one of those prisoner leg bracelet thingies that’d send a signal to Mom and Dad the second I got within a quarter mile of his house.

  On to step two.

  Love,

&nbs
p; Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 22ND

  Dear Evie,

  I mean it. Stop writing. Don’t try to visit me. You need to learn to live without me.

  Your sister,

  MONDAY, MAY 27TH

  Dear Cilla,

  I’m ignoring your last letter. I’m pretending I didn’t even get it. Because I don’t think you mean what you’re writing. You want to see me, you really do. You’re just hurting. And I’m going to help you. So … on with the plan!

  Step two: Find Anna. (Or whatever her name is now. I still think of her as Anna.)

  Katie agrees that you might be depressed. Maggie thinks that if you know Anna’s happy, you might stop feeling awful about being a “teen mom.” June says that maybe then you’ll feel like your pregnancy was for “a greater good.” I don’t think I agree with that, but maybe Anna is happier with her new family.

  Thinking that made me sad, though, so I changed the subject and we started investigating.

  We looked online for adoption agencies near us. There were four nearby, three in Boston and one in Providence. I wrote their numbers down and we each made a call. Dad was working, and Mom was out food shopping. She’s usually only there for an hour, so we didn’t have much time.

  (Plus, I didn’t want her to know that June was over. Mom was really rude to June when she picked me up at school last week for my dentist appointment.)

  All the agencies said the same thing: privacy, privacy, privacy! They couldn’t tell us anything, “under penalty of law.” I tried to pretend I was Mom, but the adoption guy didn’t buy it. My voice is way too high. Maybe I’d pass for Mom after she sucked from a helium-filled balloon, but I didn’t think of that excuse in time.

  Then he hung up on me. It was totally rude.

  June suggested maybe you’d gone through an agency near your school. We called three more places, but they were all the same. Rude, rude, rude!

  I keep picturing Anna. Or what I think Anna might look like: lots of curly brown hair, just like you. Green eyes and tons of freckles. A silly smile that will always make me laugh.

  I’m not going to give up. I need to know she’s okay.

  Maybe then you’ll be okay.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 29TH

  Dear Cilla,

  Step three (whatever it’s going to be—we haven’t figured that part out yet) is going to have to wait. Because I have a date! (Picture me doing a happy dance in my room. Now picture me knocking over my desk chair and tripping over the pile of clothes on the floor. Because that totally just happened.)

  I don’t care, though. Because I have a date with June on Friday! My first date! (I’m not counting the times June and I hung out in my room, doing homework and holding hands. Those would have been the most boring dates ever.)

  This is going to be a real date, a double date, with Katie and Ethan. At first I was mad when Katie said she’d told Ethan about us, but I guess he doesn’t care, because he picked the movie we’re going to, some action movie with race cars and underground tunnels. It doesn’t sound great, but I don’t care.

  I’M GOING ON A DATE! With my girlfriend!

  Every time I whisper it to myself, my insides feel the way my mouth does when I have hot chocolate with marshmallows, all warm and gooey.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  P.P.S. Now I really wish you were here, because I have no clue what to wear on a first date.

  THURSDAY, MAY 30TH

  Dear Cilla,

  Mom and Dad are the worst. The worst EVER. They told me I couldn’t go to the movies with June tomorrow.

  Here’s what happened: Mom and Dad were supposed to be at a planning meeting for Vacation Bible School tonight, but it got out early. So when they came home with Chinese food, June was still here. Whoops.

  I know they don’t like June. I also know that I do. And I really want them to change their minds. So I asked them if June could stay for dinner. I knew they’d be too polite to say no.

  I was right. I just didn’t think about what having June stay for dinner actually meant. That it also meant staying for prayer.

  When we all bowed our heads, June didn’t do anything. She just sat there, no bowed head, no folded hands, no anything! Mom stopped praying to ask her what was wrong.

  “You don’t know the words?” Mom asked.

  June shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you like to learn?”

  “No, thank you.” My heart was beating super fast by this point.

  “Well, you should thank God for the bounty before you,” Mom said in her very best “I know better than you because I’m a mom” voice.

  “I don’t need to thank God for this meal,” June said. She sounded super polite, even though Mom and Dad were acting like she was saying all the really bad swear words. “I can thank you, though, for serving it to me.”

  I was mad at June for a second. Didn’t she know she was going to get me in trouble? I wished she’d pretend to pray, just for a few seconds.

  Then I realized something. Why should she pray? She didn’t believe in God and that was okay. No one should force her to do something she doesn’t believe in. June was right, too. God didn’t give us this meal. The staff at Long’s Kitchen made it. God didn’t cook the meal, God didn’t harvest the rice, God didn’t grow the broccoli. People did that.

  Why don’t we thank people as much as we thank God? Maybe it would make the world a better place.

  It’s like when Mom and Dad told me to thank God for my good report card last year. God didn’t work hard, I did!

  Everything’s starting to make total sense and no sense at the same time. I don’t know what to believe anymore. Maybe believing in God is a habit I got stuck in. I didn’t think about anything because I didn’t think I had to. Mom and Dad believe, so it must be true.

  Now I’m thinking. I’m challenging. June makes me do that. That’s why I lo like her.

  Mom and Dad don’t like her, though. Which is dumb. Not believing in God doesn’t make June evil. She doesn’t have devil horns growing out of her curly hair. (If she does, they’re really short devil horns.) She doesn’t swear or kick kittens.

  She believes something different. Just like you did something different.

  The rest of dinner was awful. June chattered on about how she was going to visit her old friends in California for a week this summer and how she loves the gymnastics unit we’re doing in gym class. Mom and Dad barely said anything and I barely ate anything.

  After dinner they told me they don’t want me to hang out with June anymore.

  “She’s a bad influence,” Mom said.

  When I protested that we had plans tomorrow, Mom said she doesn’t care. She told me to cancel.

  Too bad I’m not going to listen to them.

  Love,

  Evie

  P.S. I miss you.

  FRIDAY, MAY 31ST

  Dear Cilla,

  Well, tonight started out as the best night of my life.

  We met at Tony’s Pizza before going to the movies. I told Mom that I was meeting Katie and Ethan instead. They actually believed me, too!

  Either that or they didn’t hear me tell them where I was going because I did it really quietly while they were busy watching TV.

  (I learned that trick from you.)

  Tony’s was packed. Smelly, too, like sweaty sneakers and boy cologne mixed with tomato sauce. I was still hungry, though. I’d been so nervous all day that I’d barely eaten anything.

  First date + lying to parents = SO MUCH ANXIETY.

  I was more nervous about the date than the lying. Which was weird. I’ve seen June practically every day since she moved here, and I’d never felt butterflies like those dancing around in my stomach. They were mega-butterflies. Monster butterflies. Mutant butterflies.

  We weren’t just doing homework tonig
ht. Tonight was supposed to be special. I’d spent an hour picking out my outfit and even straightened my hair. I stopped at the drugstore to buy a tube of lip gloss, too. It was my first time wearing lip gloss, and even though the color was a little too pink, it looked good. I looked grown-up.

  June and I got our regular pizza. The pizza was good, but what was even more amazing was eating meat on a Friday without anyone making a big deal out of it. And without saying a prayer first. You know that old movie Grease, where the blond girl changes into a leather-jacket-wearing rebel by the end of the movie? I felt like that. Except with pepperoni instead of stiletto heels.

  Katie and Ethan snuggled up on their side of the booth. June and I had regular chairs on our side, so we couldn’t have snuggled up even if we’d wanted to. I was glad not to have to decide what to do. Being on a date was big enough.

  I liked the little things, though. I liked brushing my hand against June’s and not worrying what Katie and Ethan were going to think. I liked smiling and giggling and not feeling like I was hiding anything. Even if only three other people knew about us, that was enough. It was more than we’d ever had before.

  We still had to be careful, though. Because everyone from school was there. Ian and his basketball friends were in the corner, burping the alphabet. The soccer girls were at the table in front of us, and Miri was bragging about the new “designer cleats” her dad had bought her. I don’t think designer cleats are a thing.

  Four soccer boys were at the booth next to us, including Joey Witter, who kept staring at me the way you look at chocolate cake. At least he wasn’t drooling. No one wants to see that. They kept asking Ethan to join them, but he told them he was on a date. The other boys all cooed and hooted and made weird faces. I think Henry Stone might have stared between me and June a little too long then, but maybe I was imagining it.

  I kept imagining lots of things. Like Miri staring at me and June.

  Like the pizza cooks staring at me and June.