Some Kind of Wonderful

by J. Minter

  I looked at Guy and shrugged. "Sorry," I said. "Maybe the bungalow next door?"

  He glanced at a receipt and seemed confused. He looked at the address on our mailbox and then back to the paper in his hand.

  "You are Flan?" he asked. "Meredith? You get chocolate chip pancakes and fruit salad for two?"

  "Wow," I said, before I even realized I was speaking out loud. "That sounds good."

  He winked at me. "I think this is for you. Come on, I'll take it inside."

  I wasn't going to argue with a man bearing chocolate chip pancakes, so I showed him into the house. He wheeled the cart into the kitchen and unloaded a whole table-scape worth of things more quickly than I would have guessed was humanly possible. Suddenly, there was a brilliant white tablecloth, china service, candlesticks (which he lit), a small bouquet of hyacinths, a small pitcher of OJ, and two covered silver platters at each of the place settings. Guy took a tiny bow, winked at me again, and said, "Bon appetit."

  And before I could even say thanks, he was gone. He was pretty good at that whole disappearing act thing.

  I stared at the banquet before me, wondering where in the world it had come from. Cautiously, I lifted up the lid of the place setting closest to the window. A waft of chocolaty deliciousness came at me, and my mouth watered when I saw the piping hot stack of pancakes. But when I looked more closely at the pancake on the top of the stack, my hand went to my heart.

  Someone had spelled out I'M SORRY, FLAN in tiny chocolate chips.

  "I really am," a voice said from behind me. "Sorry."

  I turned from the table to see Meredith standing in the doorway in her Paul Frank pajamas. She'd taken the braids out of her hair and had tried to tame the kinky mass in a large bun, but strands of crimped brown hair were sticking out all over the place. She looked the way I'd felt for the better part of the trip.

  "Did you order this?" I asked her.

  She nodded and walked over toward me.

  "What happened last night was not something I would have ever wanted to see happen," she said. "Things have just spun so wildly out of control. I feel really badly about the way I acted this week. Do you hate me?"

  For a second, I had to think about it. Meredith had been a pretty bad friend this week. But when I tried to see it from her point of view, I realized I hadn't been at my best either. I knew she hadn't joined forces with Kennedy to make me miserable on purpose. She'd been feeling her way through this vacation as much as I had.

  "Meredith, I don't hate you. I don't think we'd be up for Best Week Ever right now, but I don't hate you."

  We sat down at the table. Seeing the food made me forget how tired I was. Suddenly, starvation overtook me, and I couldn't stop staring at the pancakes. But it felt weird to dig in while we were in the middle of an intense conversation.

  Luckily, Meredith must have been feeling the same way.

  "I'm famished. I haven't eaten since Kennedy and I found these—wait, what am I doing? I'm sorry for bringing that up. I just . . . I don't know when I got so caught up in all this stuff."

  Meredith gave me a half smile. I could tell she was still feeling uptight about how rocky things had been.

  "So," I said.

  "So," she said.

  "I guess we should start at the beginning," I said, biting into my first syrupy bite. "What happened to us this week?"

  Meredith took her time chewing and swallowing. She took a sip of juice and looked out the window for a moment.

  Finally, she said, "You know how Judith and I promised to get over all of our Adam issues before we came on this trip?"

  I started to nod my head, when suddenly it hit me that I hadn't thought about Adam in . . . many, many days. Sure, there'd been a lot going on in my head, but how could I have forgotten all about him? That couldn't be a good sign.

  "Flan," Meredith said, looking like she'd been waiting for me to answer. "Remember that?"

  "Yeah," I said. "That I do remember."

  Remembering my friends' issues with my boyfriend was one thing. Remembering my boyfriend in general . . . hmm.

  "Well, I guess it was easier said than done," Meredith said. "But it wasn't just about Adam, you know. It was everything with you. How Judith and I always felt excluded from your life. Like we weren't good enough, or fancy enough, or cool enough to be in the loop about what was going on."

  I sighed, because I thought I'd been over this with Meredith a million times before. How many times were she and Judith going to punish me for having a life outside of them?

  Meredith was stammering. "I know I should be able to put it behind me, because it seemed like after Adam, you were really trying to be honest, but I just . . . it's taking longer than I'd thought for me to get over it."

  "But I don't get it," I said. "You're trying to get over Adam . . . but it feels like you were trying to get back at me by becoming friends with my worst enemy. What kind of friend is that?"

  Meredith looked down. "A bad one," she said. "I swear I didn't do it to hurt you—at least not consciously. Kennedy just seemed so cool at first. I thought maybe she'd changed. I mean, how great would it have been if I could help you guys move past your problems with each other?" She fiddled with her napkin and twirled her fork around in her hand. "But then, when it became obvious that you two were never going to be BFF . . . I guess I was already sucked into her web. There's something about Kennedy; she's just so inclusive, and she was always bringing me everywhere with her. We're having so much fun," she said.

  We were quiet for a minute, and I tried to get over the fact that Meredith had used the words "inclusive" and "Kennedy" in the same sentence.

  "I didn't stop to realize what it was doing to you," she continued. "I always thought you were so self-possessed, that you didn't even need me around. You always seem so in control."

  "Meredith," I said, feeling hurt. "Just because someone may seem self-possessed doesn't mean she doesn't need her friends to stick by her. It doesn't mean she's okay with being treated like crap."

  Meredith nodded. "I know, I know, I can see that now. I was so shocked to see you, you know, all bummed out this week."

  "I was pretty shocked to be all bummed out this week."

  "Kennedy is my friend, too, and I want to keep hanging out with her, but I don't ever want to be the reason that you're upset," she said. "I promise to be more considerate."

  I hesitated. Was that good enough?

  "Flan?"

  "Yeah?"

  "What now? Is this going to be another one of those things we say we're going to get over but can't?" Meredith twisted a kinky lock of brown hair around her forefinger, waiting for my response.

  "We've only been friends for three months," I said. "I'm just not sure we should have this much baggage yet. It feels like we've spent more time misunderstanding each other and hurting each other's feelings than we've spent having fun."

  "That's not good."

  "No, it's not," I said, tapping my plate with my fork as I sorted through my thoughts. And then, as things became clearer in my head, I knew that I needed to be really honest with Meredith.

  "I'm really glad we're talking all this through," I said. "But I just wonder about us. I've been doing a lot of thinking—about where I fit in, about what will make me the happiest right now—and I know I need to figure out a few more things. But I also know that I don't want to fight with my best friends all the time. It shouldn't be this much of a struggle."

  "I think I feel the same way," Meredith said slowly. "I'm so glad that I met you this year, and I'm so glad we got to know each other, but I think we're both starting to feel like we were just—"

  "Trying each other on for size?" I finished.

  "Exactly," Meredith said. She laughed, but she sounded sad. "And you're this really beautiful Marc Jacobs sweater that I desperately want but that is totally out of my price range."

  "And you're the vintage cable-knit cardigan that I'll always admire but could really never pull off."

&nb
sp; "This is sad," Meredith said. "I feel like we're breaking up."

  "We're not breaking up. We're just starting to understand our friendship for what it is. I still want us to be friends. I hope you do, too."

  "I do," Meredith said. She was pushing her fruit salad around on her plate.

  "It's better that we recognize this kind of stuff now before we force ourselves back into BFF territory and end up having a huge fight about it."

  "You're right," Meredith said. She refilled my OJ glass. "You're always right, Flan. That's another thing about you that totally drives me crazy."

  We laughed.

  "How about we toast," I said, "to sweaters that we'd love to buy but that really don't match anything else in our closets."

  We raised our glasses.

  "Cheers," we said at the same time. We smiled at each other, but it was a bittersweet feeling that I couldn't really explain.

  Chapter 20

  ASCENDING TO THE THRONE

  Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. The flight attendants will be coming through the cabin with a selection of brunch options."

  On Saturday morning, Camille looked over at me from her window seat and frowned. "It's crazy that we're already heading back to the city. Can you believe how fast this vacation flew by?" she asked.

  It was funny—there was a time when I thought this was the never-ending vacation from hell, when my stay in Nevis had seemed like an interminable nightmare. But pretty much as soon as I had reconnected with Camille, the trip had been a nonstop blast.

  Sitting next to her on the plane, with TZ and Rob passed out in front of us, and Kennedy and Meredith clinging to each other on the other side of the plane, far away from my sphere of recognition . . . I did feel a little bit bummed-out that we were already on our way home.

  "No," I said to Camille. "I can't believe it's over."

  "At least you'll always have your memories," TZ said in a mocking falsetto voice from in front of us.

  Camille and I both kicked his seat. "Shut up,TZ," I said. "Go back to sleep and dream of scratchy necklaces around your whole body."

  "Flan, you're killing me," he groaned.

  Camille and I giggled and clinked our glasses of sparkling water together. We turned our focus to selecting our brunch options from a touch screen on the front of our seatbacks. Camille ordered the awesome-sounding croissant French toast, and I was toying with the idea of an egg white omelet with spinach.

  "I feel like such a heifer after this week. I should probably get something light," I said.

  "Like a tasteless, floppy egg white? Whatever, Flan! We're growing girls who are taller than half the boys on this plane. We need our fuel. Plus, we're still technically on vacay. Indulge!"

  "Okay, okay. You twisted my arm." I laughed.

  Minutes later, the flight attendants brought over two trays of crispy, delicious French toast, with warm maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

  "I say we close our eyes and try to pretend we're still in Nevis," Camille said. "I'll probably be doing that all week. In class, my French teacher will whack me on the head with an eraser like she always does when I zone out."

  "Is your French class name still Isobelle?"

  "Oui oui! And is yours still Madeline?"

  "Bien sur."

  "We used to have so much fun in French. Remember the day we tried to make crepes, and we got batter all over the slide projector? Madame Virgily was like, 'Psss, you klutzeee girlzzz! What huzzzband will love you if you cannot make proper crrrepe?'"

  Both of us busted out laughing, and then I said, "I really miss having you in my classes."

  "Ditto," Camille said. "Obviously you should just drop out of Stuy and come to Thoney!"

  "You say that jokingly," I said, "but the truth is, I've been thinking seriously about it. I've already talked about it with my mom."

  Camille's eyes got as big as her plate. "No. Way."

  "Way. It's not definite yet. I still have some thinking to do. But especially after hanging out with you on this trip, I have to say it's really tempting."

  "Wow. Well, I won't try to sway your decision too much. I know you have to figure it out for yourself. But please please please please please come back!" She grinned. "See, I'm totally staying out of it."

  "Part of me wants to," I said. "But what about Kennedy? Am I up for all that drama and competitiveness again? I don't know."

  "Okay, here's the thing," Camille said. She put down her fork, like whatever she was about to say would require our full attention. "You know how everyone is super insecure in middle school?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, that's why people like Kennedy can get away with acting psycho. Most people are followers, and they'll just do whatever the Queen Bee says. That's why Miss Mallard's was so painful. That's why you stood out, because you were the only one who'd stand up to Kennedy."

  "I don't know . . . I guess."

  "But high school's not like that. It's definitely not like that at Thoney. I'm telling you, Kennedy's really not even that cool."

  "But she's still so high and mighty."

  "She's a little fish in a big pond now. And all the girls who used to follow her around," she said, raising her hand sheepishly, "yours truly included . . . well, everyone's sick of her. None of us sees any reason to let her boss us around all the time. The whole class is pretty much over it."

  "I bet that pisses her off," I said.

  "Like you wouldn't believe." Camille laughed. "That's probably why she's gotten even bitchier this year, if that's possible. She's just lashing out and trying to control whatever and whoever she can."

  I craned my neck around to see if I could get a peak at Meredith. I could see her chatting away, but I couldn't see Kennedy's face. Then, all of a sudden, Kennedy bolted up from her seat, grabbed her pillow, and started angrily tramping up the aisle.

  "Where are you going?" I heard Meredith whine.

  "You told me you were going to take a nap for the whole flight," Kennedy said. "You even brought your eye mask. And now you won't shut up for one second. You're driving me effing crazy."

  I watched Meredith slump down in her seat and figured that was the end of her run with Kennedy. Bummer—but I wasn't going to say I told her so. At least when she got home, she'd have Judith to return to.

  Seeing Meredith look bummed out did make me sad, but it was also really gratifying to glance around the plane and see people buzzing about Kennedy's bitchy outburst.

  I turned back to Camille. "So she doesn't rule the school?"

  "Absolutely not," Camille said. "In fact—•"

  "Oh, boy," I said. "I know that tone of voice. Do you have an idea?"

  "Well, it just so happens that there seems to be a vacancy for who's ruling the ninth grade at Thoney. And I was thinking . . ."

  "If I came back . . ."

  "It could be you and me!" Camille said.

  I thought back to the dream I'd had when we first arrived in Nevis, before I knew half of what was in store for me. How I'd imagined myself walking down the halls at Thoney with girls practically bowing down to me. That had been a funny kind of fantasy, but it wasn't actually what I'd want my life to be like.

  I knew then that what I wanted was just to have a tight group of cool friends to go through school with. We didn't have to rule over anyone; we just had to have a good time.

  "So ruling the school," I said. "What exactly does that entail?"

  "Um, probably something like . . . hanging out with each other every possible second, sharing lots of clothes, planning some non-lame school social functions for a change, ranking at the top of the class, and having blowout parties with the boys every weekend."

  "That sounds like one of your best ideas yet," I said.

  "Told ya," she said.

  And once that had been settled, both of us snuggled back in our seats and let a week's worth of exhaustion overtake us. I didn't wake up until Camille tapped me on the shoulder to point o
ut the glittering skyline of New York City out the window right below us.

  "Welcome home," she said. "Now vacation's really over. We can only deny it for so long."

  I watched the city glide below us—the Empire State Building, the little stacks on stacks of Midtown buildings, the vast greenness of Central Park—before we veered east to land at LaGuardia.

  "You know what," I said as the plane's wheels touched back down in our city, "I think we're going to be okay."

  Chapter 21

  IT'S RAINING REJECTION

  By the next day, Nevis felt like a slip of a dream. Tucked into bed and listening to Feist drown out the freezing November rain pelting my windows, I found it pretty impossible to believe that only forty-eight hours earlier, I had been diving off a cliff at sunrise.

  Now I hunkered down in my room, surrounded by my unpacked suitcase and a whirlwind of papers and books. Every time a burst of thunder rumbled, Noodles would start whimpering and running around in circles like a maniac. I was spending a lot more time calming him down than I was actually studying.

  Also, I was keeping pretty busy screening calls from Adam.

  Why? What was my problem? We hadn't seen each other in over a week and most people would probably be chomping at the bit to see their S.O. ASAP. But when I got off the plane yesterday and had two messages from him, I suddenly felt a little bit stifled.

  Hey, Flan, it's Adam. Hope you had a good time on your vacation. Chicago was really cool, too. Anyway, just wanted to see when you're getting back to the city. Give me a call when your plane lands.

  Followed by:

  Hey, Flan, it's Adam again. I know I just called you, and I know you're still on your flight home. But I just walked by the Fresh store on Bleecker, and they're having a sale, so I thought of you because I know you like their soap and stuff Anyway, I was hoping we could talk sometime soon. Call me.