Some Kind of Wonderful

by J. Minter

  "I knew there was something I liked about you, Mer," Kennedy said. "Come over to our side of the fire. I want you to meet some of my friends." She spun on her heel and was gone.

  I grabbed Meredith's arm.

  "I forgot to tell you," she said, looking sheepish. "I met Kennedy on the scavenger hunt this afternoon. I know you have a beef with her, but I swear, she was so nice to me that I almost forgot about it. It seems like she's grown up a lot since middle school. I promise—she's so cool now. She even told me what good friends you used to be and how bad she feels that you two don't hang out anymore."

  I opened my mouth to respond, but I was too stunned to speak. Meredith had just basically insulted me to my face, and now she was BFF with Kennedy? What planet had I woken up on? There was no way I was buying the fact that Kennedy felt badly about what happened between us. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Kennedy could not be trusted.

  I turned to Judith for support, but she was nowhere to be found. I felt terrible. I turned around to find her and apologize, but Meredith took my hand.

  "You're not mad, are you?"

  "Meredith, you don't know Kennedy. She's evil."

  "I really think she's changed," Meredith said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "She was super sweet today. And her parents own this gallery in Chelsea— you know the one I love on 19th Street that I'm always unsuccessfully trying to drag you to? And did you know that Ava Korner is her godmother? You never told me that! You know she's, like, my favorite artist ever. Kennedy said she'd introduce me."

  "Meredith, over here!" It was Kennedy, waving my friend over to her headquarters. I was having deja vu.

  "Let's go," Meredith said. "Just for a little. If you're having a terrible time in five minutes, we can leave. Just give her another chance, okay?"

  But she didn't give me any time to argue. She was already halfway to Kennedy. I had no Judith and no choice but to follow Meredith pathetically, like a lost puppy.

  "Hey!" Kennedy said as we sat down in the middle of a crowd of cute guys. "TZ, this is Meredith. And that's her friend, Flan. TZ has been wanting to meet you since I told him all about you this afternoon, Meredith."

  TZ was none other than the judgmental hottie whom I'd already embarrassed myself in front of. As I looked at him more closely, I realized that I knew him. I'd met him years before. He was Terrick Zumberg—of the Zumbergs who were behind this whole vacation. He'd been a terror when he was a little kid, when he still went by Terrick, but apparently in the few years since I'd seen him he'd bloomed into a full-fledged hunk.

  "Hey," TZ said, giving Meredith a smile and a little head nod. "Love your necklace. This is Bruce," he said, pointing down to a very frisky border collie that was trying to gnaw through a coconut.

  And I could tell from the way TZ said those seven little words that he knew exactly how cute he was, that he was well aware that everyone here was hanging out on his family's dime, and that there was no question that he could get any girl at this party.

  Normally, I hated that kind of guy, but there was something about TZ that was almost magnetic. And soon I noticed that I wasn't the only one staring at him. A girl I knew from Miss Mallard's, Mattie Hendricks, was practically boring a hole in his head with her eyes.

  Mattie had been in my history class a few years ago and would be an eighth grader now. I'd always thought she was super sweet, but a little bit on the dorky side. She'd been wearing the same side ponytail since before it was cool again.

  "Hey, Mattie," I said to her.

  It took her a second to pry her eyes off of TZ, but when she finally looked at me, her face lit up. "Flan! It's so good to see you. I miss you!"

  "Oh," I stammered, surprised by her excited tone. "It's good to see you, too."

  "Remember when we did that diorama on the Pilgrims three years ago? That was awesome."

  I smiled at her. "Yeah," I said. "That was fun."

  "Is that your friend over there talking to Terrick Zumberg?"

  I looked over to see who she was talking about, and was surprised to see TZ fingering Meredith's necklace.

  "That's my friend Meredith?" It had come out sounding like a question.

  "So are they dating or what?"

  "No!" I said, a little too quickly. I didn't know why, but there was something about that question that made me almost . . . jealous.

  I needed to calm down.

  I turned to Mattie. "Listen, I'm going to go grab a drink, okay? It was good to see you."

  I waved to Mattie and was going to ask Meredith if she wanted to come with me to get some punch from the cooler on the other side of the fire, but when I got there, Kennedy was monopolizing her.

  "Oh my God," she said. "Is that necklace made from the shells we found on the beach? I knew you said you were going to do something with them, but I didn't realize you could make such awesome jewelry."

  "Well," Meredith said, clearly glowing, "I had a feeling they'd go well with these new beads I just ordered, but I had to see them together to make sure."

  "Wow," TZ said, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "That's rad. Could you make me a necklace? You must be really creative."

  Telling Meredith she was creative was like telling me, Hey, Flan, you're even more laid back than your sister and brother. It was the compliment she most wanted to hear. And the thing was, it was true. She was creative. And normally I'd be psyched that someone was giving my friend such well-deserved props, but tonight, it made me feel weird and possessive.

  In so many ways I felt like Meredith had been my discovery. Like she was some submerged sea treasure I'd found on a scuba diving trip and had brought to the surface. It wasn't that I didn't want anyone else to see how great she was, it was just that . . . well . . . what was it?

  And just when I thought things couldn't get any more confusing, I heard Meredith say coyly (and very uncharacteristically), "Uh uh, it doesn't work that way. I can't just make a necklace on demand for anyone who asks."

  "Not even for me?" TZ said, fake pouting. It was startling how he still looked sort of cute with his lower lip turned down.

  Meredith looked to the sky, as if for inspiration. "It's just, I have to feel the need to make the necklace."

  Too much! I needed some air. Luckily, no one was paying any attention to me, so I was able to steal away from the group and get down to the beach. I just wanted to breathe for a few minutes so I could figure out what was making me feel so unsettled about Meredith.

  I collapsed on an empty sand bar and watched the waves foam across the shoreline. It was weird. I was practically witnessing Meredith blossom into cool. It was something I'd wanted to happen for months—but the thing that I hated to admit was . . . I always thought that I'd have more to do with it.

  I'd tried to coax Meredith out of her shell a thousand times, but as it turned out, she didn't even need my help. In fact, Meredith didn't need to come out of her shell at all; she just needed to make a necklace out of one. I couldn't understand how she was suddenly a smash success at this party. I mean, she was great and all, but in more of a Stuyvesant-great kind of way.

  "Um, excuse me?" I looked up to see that a guy had approached me. I sat up straight and smiled at him. He was kind of cute.

  "Yes?"

  "You're, uh, I think you're sitting on my girlfriend's poncho." He pointed at the sand where I noticed I was sitting on a woven navy poncho.

  "Oh," I said. "Sorry." I handed it to him so he could return it to whichever poncho girl was his girlfriend.

  When he started to walk away, I felt more alone than ever. What was I doing out here pouting by myself? I stood up and took a few deep breaths before following the couple back toward the party. As I walked behind them, I, um, accidentally eavesdropped on their conversation.

  "We have to wait till the party dies down," the girl was saying. "Kennedy doesn't want a mass exodus. There's only room for ten of us in the kayaks."

  "When do you think that's going to be?" her boyfrien
d asked. "It's already almost midnight."

  She shrugged. "Whenever TZ says the party's over, the party's over. It's always more fun when it's just the late-night crew hanging out anyway."

  "Totally. Remember last year with the—"

  But I couldn't hear the rest of their story because they both exploded into laughter. It was the kind of laughter that felt so good to do yourself—but felt so bad to hear from the outside.

  Or maybe I was just primed to feel sorry for myself. I had never felt so uncool. I'd been so sure that I needed a vacation, but who could call this a relaxing getaway? Definitely not me . . .

  Chapter 10

  AND THEN THERE WS ONE

  During my short stint as SBB's landlord this past fall, she used to stumble down the stairs after a night out and bemoan her extreme exhaustion while I was getting ready for school.

  "If it sucks this much in the morning," I asked her one morning when the moaning was particularly woeful, "then why don't you party a little less?"

  She looked at me like I was a newborn puppy and staggered over to pinch my cheek. "Honey, it hurts so good. Everybody loves to say, Oh, I'm never staying out till sunrise again, la la la. But really, feeling like crap the next morning is the best reminder that you had yourself a kick-ass time the night before."

  I looked at her warily as she buttoned my cardigan in the foyer.

  "Someday you'll understand," she said. "But no rush—you're still a kid!" She bopped me on the head, which she had to stand on her tiptoes to do, and sent me off to school.

  Fast forward to the present: it was Tuesday, our second morning in Nevis, and the nausea I woke up with was definitely not a sign of a good time had the night before. I'd gotten too much sleep, and I still felt sick about pretty much everything going on in my life.

  All I wanted was my own bed back at my own house, with a few kisses from Noodles and possibly an order of pancakes from EJ's.

  Then again, I was dying to know what had become of Meredith and Judith. I felt uncharacteristically out of the loop. Last night, after I'd overheard Kennedy's plans for the exclusive late-night kayaking expedition, I'd fled the party to avoid being shunned all over again. I locked myself in my room and pumped up the most depressing music playlist on my iPod.

  Now it was nine in the morning, and I was feeling guilty about leaving Judith alone for the rest of the night and curious about whether Meredith had made the after-party cut. So I dragged myself out of bed and did an SBB-like stumble downstairs.

  The kitchen was empty, save for the navy folder with the jam-packed itinerary reminding me of all the events we were supposed to enjoy this week. Had it only been yesterday when we looked through that folder and got totally pumped about the bonfire? That had been a major bust.

  I was just about to leaf through the folder to see what I should avoid today—if I didn't want to feel as insignificant as the gunk under Kennedy Pearson's fake nails—when I heard the distinctly metallic sound of a zipper in the next room.

  I stuck my head into the living room and saw Judith, fully dressed and struggling to get all her books stuffed back into her suitcase.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "I'm basting a turkey," she said from her crouched position on the floor. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going home."

  "You've got to be kidding," I said, feeling for the sofa so I could sit down. I was starting to get a bit dizzy.

  She looked at me but said nothing.

  "Judith, why?"

  "It was a bad idea to come in the first place. Right before finals? Hello, this is, like, the worst week to not have access to the library and the Internet."

  "I saw an Internet cafe on the map," I said. I knew I was flailing and that this was a poor way to convince her to stay. Sure, she was a little intense sometimes, but Judith's snarky sarcasm and constant consideration for her friends was a major part of what was going to make this week so much fun. She couldn't leave!

  "It's not just that," she said. "You're . . . different on vacation. You made me feel really uncomfortable last night."

  "Judith, I feel terrible about the way I acted last night. I know you didn't need me to remind you that we're on vacation—especially not in such a rude way. I was just stressed about things, you know, what with seeing Kennedy again. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

  "Don't apologize. It's okay. I'm just getting in the way here."

  "That's so not true," I said, shaking my head. "I never meant to make you feel like that, Judith. I just wanted you to relax so you could have some fun."

  Yeah right, like I was one to give out advice about having fun.

  "That's the point," Judith said. Her voice wobbled a little. "I don't want to relax. This place is just not my scene, and we both know it."

  "You're seriously leaving?" I said, hugging a white throw pillow to my chest.

  "There's a car picking me up in ten minutes. My parents helped me figure out an earlier flight home." She surveyed her bags, giving another fruitless tug at her zipper.

  "Can I at least help you with your bag?" I said. I stood up and crossed the room toward her.

  She held out an arm like a traffic cop. "Don't bother," she said. "I don't need your help."

  "What about Meredith? Did you talk to her? What does she think about you leaving?"

  "You'll have to ask her yourself," Judith said. "She didn't come home last night."

  My face burned. Everything out of her mouth seemed to throw salt on my wounded ego.

  You're the reason I'm having a terrible time.

  I'd rather bust my suitcase than have you touch it to help me.

  Meredith pulled an all-nighter, and you weren't invited.

  Perfectly timed to coincide with my aching head and heart, a car horn blared outside.

  "That'd be my ride," Judith said. She hauled her half-zipped suitcase up over her shoulder and didn't even look at me as she walked toward the door.

  "Judith, wait. You can't just walk out on our vacation."

  "Save the breakup speech for Adam," she said. She must have seen the look on my face, because she softened. "Look, let's just let each other mellow out. Call me after finals next week. I'll be able to focus on all this . . . drama then."

  Before I had a chance to respond, she turned and walked out the door. In a moment, the car had sped away. And just like that, a big piece of my anchor at Stuy had fallen away. Sure, I'd call her after finals . . . but then what? We'd pretend like this never happened? Like we'd never realized that our scenes were pretty much as opposite as you could get? If we couldn't even have a good time here in Paradise, were we wrong about just how good of friends we really were?

  As I stood, stunned, on the front porch, Meredith came bolting up the front path. She skidded to a halt when she saw me standing there, as if I were her keeper.

  "Oh. Hey," she said, catching her breath.

  "Oh, hey."

  She was still dressed in her sarong from last night. I would have thought someone doing the walk of shame home would flaunt it a little bit less.

  "Judith went home," I said. "To New York."

  "Oh no," she said, but the words were completely flat.

  "You couldn't care less?" I said.

  "I said 'oh no.'" Meredith crossed her arms.

  "She was having a terrible time."

  "That's impossible. It's so amazing here." She frowned. "I don't get it. Why didn't she say something?"

  "She did say something," I said. "If you'd been home, you would have heard her." I chose to leave out the part about Judith leaving only because of how badly I'd made her feel last night.

  Now Meredith did look like she felt guilty. "Crap. I fell asleep at Kennedy's last night. It was so late when we got home from kayaking and too dark to walk home by myself. TZ offered to walk me home, but . . ." she trailed off. "Hey, I looked for you last night. What'd you end up doing? Did you have an awesome night, too?"

  "Something like that," I said.

&nb
sp; It was crazy. For so long, I'd been lying to Meredith and Judith, saying that I didn't go to a great party that I did go to, just so they wouldn't feel like our lives were totally divergent. And now I was lying to her again, saying I did do something fabulous just to keep up with her? We couldn't seem to get in sync.

  "You must feel like me, then," Meredith said. "I'm practically sleepwalking right now."

  Meredith did look exhausted. Her sarong was rumpled and bunched in all the wrong places. She looked like a tablecloth after a long dinner party. Her eyes had bags under them, and her hair desperately needed to be washed.

  But somehow, her face was glowing. Her wild time last night had pumped some life into her, and I had to admit, it suited her. She definitely had the hurts-so-good thing going on.

  "Yeah," I lied. Again. "I'm probably going to go take a nap, too."

  "Oh, I'm not taking a nap," she said. "There's way too much fun stuff going on. Caffeine will have to do for now." She jogged past me and into the kitchen, where I heard her rummaging through the fridge. She came back gulping a can of Starbucks DoubleShot espresso. "Love this stuff. Do you want to shower first, or can I? I think the yacht leaves in an hour."

  "What yacht?" I said.

  She paused mid-sip. "You're not coming? I figured you were in on it."

  "I didn't see a yacht on the itinerary." Even saying those words aloud made me feel like a total geek. Of course this wasn't the type of yacht trip to be on the itinerary. Just like the late-night kayaking hadn't been on the itinerary.

  "No, it's . . . oh, it's just this thing Kennedy organized. I'm sure you can come if you want. If you haven't already made plans for yourself."

  It was hard to tell which one of us the role reversal shocked more: Meredith or me. Both of us were used to things being the other way around.

  Meredith looked deep into her Starbucks can, as if the answer to why things between us were suddenly a little tense was hidden at the bottom of it.

  I had nothing to do and no cool friends to even consider meeting up with, but there was no way I was going to play tagalong with Kennedy—even if Meredith did swear she was different now. It'd be better for both of us if I just kept lying through my teeth.