The one slice of pizza I’d managed to choke down at Beau’s earlier was a deadweight in the bottom of my stomach by the time Chloe Donnelly finished her stories about platinum favors she’d won, and I left the girls and turned onto my street. When I got to Nan and Pops’s house, all my good feelings about Mateo had been pushed aside by worry. I couldn’t stop thinking about a guaranteed yes and how it might change the intensity of the game. By any means necessary seemed different now, less of a joke. A platinum favor was actually something worth playing for, and rock-paper-scissors wasn’t going to work. The entire thing made me panic a little, even though I kept remembering the way Mateo looked at me like maybe he wanted to play because of me.
“Nan. Pops. I’m home,” I called, dropping my house keys into the little handmade pottery bowl on the table.
Nan and Pops had an obscenely clean house. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but it felt like a museum, albeit one without anything expensive in it. Nan was vigilant about her housework agenda on Saturday afternoons and usually bugged me or coerced me into helping her, which I felt I owed her, considering she was putting up with me for two years. I slipped my shoes off and tucked them in the front closet, hooking my bag on the side of the closet where Pops had installed a series of evenly spaced hooks.
“We’re in here, honey,” Nan called over the twenty-four-seven sound of Fox News. Even when we were leaving the house, they kept it on as if their houseplants couldn’t be deprived of the Republican agenda.
Considering my parents were practically socialists in the Spirit Corps, I couldn’t believe they agreed to let me stay with Nan and Pops when I begged to come home after that first summer in Burkina Faso. Mom did everything she could to remind me of “our values” when we chatted online, and she always asked if I’d changed my mind and wanted to come live with them in BF, to which I always answered no. The truth was, I did share my parents’ politics, and I did think the world was worth saving, but I’d been with my grandparents for more than eighteen months, and it was hard to argue with them when they started in with political talk—when they talked about how we needed to “protect” our country, but really meant we needed to keep out anyone who didn’t look like them . . . us. Usually, I nodded and bit my tongue and reminded myself how grateful I was to them for taking me in, then I’d go online and donate the tiny allowance I was given to the ACLU.
“You missed chicken and stuffing tonight,” Nan said. “Can you still smell it? I used rosemary this time.”
“Yeah, it smells amazing,” I called out. “I’ll bring leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
I made sure the stolen scarf was tucked at the very bottom of my bag, not wanting to get into a bunch of questions from Nan and Pops, still feeling ridiculous for ever being talked in to stealing it. I should’ve handed it to Chloe Donnelly when I left tonight, but I felt stupid. She said she was going to return it when she asked Cam for a ride to Walmart, but I couldn’t tell if that was for my and Mateo’s benefit only, an easy platinum favor that she’d never really ask for.
Nan came out from the family room, her brassy blond hair newly done at the Grinnell beauty salon, and smiled wide. “There’s also Neapolitan ice cream for dessert if you’re still hungry. Did you have a nice time with your friends? How’s the project?”
I tried to smile back. “It’s good.”
“Your mother called on the computer when you were gone. Sorry you missed her. She says hello and they’ll try calling again in a few days. She said she’d send you an email.” Nan fussed over my hair and patted me a little awkwardly, as if she’d been holding all these words in and wanted to get them right.
“She asked all about you, and I had to give her the whole play-by-play. She worries too much. As if your grandfather and I aren’t handling things. But I know it’s just because she’s so far away and misses you.”
I let her words sink in and then choked out, “I can’t believe I missed Mom and Dad’s call.”
I blinked back tears that pushed against my eyelids. I missed a conversation with my parents. It shouldn’t feel like that big of a deal, but it always hollowed me out if I couldn’t talk to them. The lack of regularity of their calls and the fact that I sometimes felt so lonely I wanted to die made every call feel like a lifeline. And it was a million times worse knowing it was a lifeline for them too, that they were desperate for me to join them in Burkina Faso, that it killed my mom a little not to have her only child with her and she’d give anything for me to change my mind about staying in Grinnell. I took a deep breath and reminded myself they’d be home soon.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when they called,” I said, trying to steady my voice. Then I kissed Nan on the cheek. “I’m going to get some more homework done.”
Nan squeezed my shoulder. “Okay, sweetie. Pops and I are going to watch Two and a Half Men in a bit if you want to join us.”
“Thanks,” I said, then went to give Pops a kiss before heading to my room.
“Two and a Half Men in twenty-two minutes, doll,” he called after me.
It was a nightly ritual. Fox News interspersed with reruns of a crap TV show that more often than not involved Charlie Sheen. I could almost hear my mom’s voice in my head muttering about misogyny and privilege and the pedestalization of bad boys. That voice made the choking tears diminish. It reminded me that Mom was always with me, in some way.
How she sprang from the sperm-egg combo of my conservative, Charlie Sheen–loving grandparents still baffled me. Though I suspected her politics had a lot to do with going to Grinnell College—the pinko school, as Pops liked to call it—and meeting my socialist dad there.
In my room I fired up Pops’s old Dell computer, saying a silent prayer that the rumors about GHS giving all students their own laptop next year were true. It was nice that my grandparents let me keep the one family computer in my room for homework, but it also meant no real privacy, as Pops randomly busted in to use it for fact-checking some damn thing he’d heard in town. Sadly, he never used it for fact-checking Fox News.
Because of the lack of privacy and the fact that Nan and Pops were doing me a big favor by opening their house to me, I didn’t decorate my room or let it get trashed like Eve’s. It was a tidy, light-yellow guest room when I moved in, and it remained that way almost two years later, with a bedspread of tiny blue and yellow flowers and a small bookshelf of Nan’s books. I checked my books out from the media center and mostly kept them in my schoolbag.
By the time the computer was humming, my phone had buzzed with a text from Chloe Donnelly.
So excited to play again. I know you’re worried but it’ll be pink. I promise.
Pink. Sure.
I took three deep breaths, then texted back. I’m not worried. I got Josh’s letter, remember? See you tomorrow.
Then I pulled up my email and clicked on the note from my parents.
Chloe,
Sorry we missed you, but your nan said you were doing a group project with friends. I hope that little spring break drama with Eve blew over. Girls can be so hard, but we believe in you and know you’ll work it out. Dad and I did an HIV/AIDS education presentation for the girls at the school this afternoon. I fall in love with these kids more every day. You wouldn’t believe the questions they asked and how little they know about sex and contraception! I keep telling myself you’re lucky to be going to school in the States with so many resources at your fingertips. Although that’s probably me looking for something good about you being away from us. Real talk (as the kids say!): As far as I’m concerned, there is nothing good about you being away from us. We both miss you like crazy. You know, if you lived here, I’d give you all the sex ed you’d need. LOL! (Your dad thinks I’m traumatizing you, but he doesn’t know how hard things are for teenage girls. No one tells them anything.)
Anyway, we can talk more about this the next time we chat live, but Dad and I wanted to float the idea of us extending our stay here in Burkina Faso and what that would mean for you. Nothing is
set in stone, but we’re making such real progress with this community and we feel like they’re really starting to trust us now. We’d hate to leave before we established something meaningful. Part of the problem in countries like this is so many NGOs are bandaging problems without putting in the infrastructure for sustainability, which leaves the people so vulnerable. We want this school to be able to run without us; the girls are so desperate for education. But for that to happen, we need to put in the work and the time. We won’t extend without you agreeing to live here for the duration of our stay (which we’re thinking will be another year, starting after this summer). We know that might cause some complications with school, but maybe you could look at it as a gap year taken one year early? You could return to Grinnell with us after we’re done and finish up your senior year then, or we could unschool you in BF and you can say good-bye to public high school altogether a few short months from now. Tempting, right?
Again, nothing has been determined yet, and we should all talk about this. It’s a family decision, but think about it. We’ll try to get our webcam going on Friday night, so I hope, hope, hope you’re around and our connection allows us to call.
Love and miss you so much,
Mom
P.S. Dad says that I’m monopolizing the computer too much and he’s going to write you his OWN note later. Men!
I stood on numb legs and crossed to my door, closing it as quietly as I could, even though I was sure my grandparents heard it. Nan and Pops didn’t like closed doors, said it was shutting out the family. They also insisted on tucking me in every night and giving me a hug before I left for school every day, which I didn’t mind so much. But the doors? I wished for closed doors a lot. Thankfully, this time, they let me have one.
I stretched out on my bed and let the tears come. Extending their Spirit Corps stay wasn’t a family decision. Not after my parents let me get away with living with Nan and Pops for two years. Mom and Dad would explain all the reasons why it was imperative for us to Be the change we want to see in the world, and in the end I would agree, because what else could I say? They’d given me a two-year pass, but all along they’d been coaxing me back over holiday-break trips when I got to see them in action at the village school, and peppering every conversation we had with heavy guilt about how much they missed me. Asking them to come home would be selfish, and I’d already maxed out my selfish card. I knew it and they knew it.
My parents had raised me to think of others first. Though the bitter side of me wondered why they couldn’t have waited a few years, I also knew my mom might not have ever come out of her miscarriage depression if she’d stayed in Grinnell. There’d be no argument about extending, just a necessary sacrifice on all our parts.
I allowed myself ten minutes to cry, then scrubbed my face against the yellow-and-blue quilt, opened my door, and moved back to my computer to type a response.
Mom and Dad,
Sorry I wasn’t around when you called. I miss you too. The HIV/AIDS thing sounds incredible. I’m really proud of all the work you’re doing. I know big global change is important, and it sounds like you’re making real progress. And I’m glad you’re connecting with the girls (though, Mom, it’s probably better to ease them into all the sex ed stuff).
I’ll be around early on Friday night, but I’m going to hang out with Eve and Holly and a new friend I just made (Chloe Donnelly from Chicago) later, so it’d be great if you could reach out around dinnertime.
Things are going pretty well here with Nan and Pops, but I know how much you guys want me with you. I’m not sure about school and what to do about that, but if they need you in BF still, we can talk about options for extension.
I love you and miss you,
C
My finger hovered over the mouse, and I almost, almost hit send, but I couldn’t. I was being horrible and selfish, but spending a whole year in Burkina Faso scared me. Mom and Dad would be working, and I’d have no friends and be alone even worse than when Eve and Holly blew me off over spring break. And that was one week, not fifty-two.
So I saved my note as a draft and shut down the computer. I took three deep breaths and stood just as Pops called out, “Come on, Chloe doll. Two and a Half Men is starting. It’s a Charlie episode!”
* * *
The next day, over my lunch of leftovers and Chloe Donnelly telling us a twenty-minute-long story about her best friend from Chicago dating a guy who’d burned the family house down and then later overdosed after the two of them ran away together, Eve asked me if I wanted to hang out after school.
“You’re not going to watch Holly practice with the dance team?”
“No,” Eve said, glancing at Holly as she sneaked out of the cafeteria early so she could meet Cam in the parking lot for what would no doubt be another PDA make-out session. “She’s not practicing today because she’s going to see her dad.”
The way Eve said it made it sound like Holly’s dad was in Wisconsin instead of in the next town over, but I wasn’t about to point that out when this was the first time Eve had asked to hang with only me in months. “Sure. My house or yours?”
Eve scrunched her nose. “Mine. I need to clean my room to get on my mom’s good side so she lets me play Gestapo tomorrow night.”
Which was how I found myself after school, folding Eve’s clothes and shoving them into her dresser while she organized her makeup and hair stuff.
“So, how’d you get Josh’s letter?” she asked as she tossed all her nail polish into a tiny plastic bucket under her desk.
I smiled kind of goofy and said, “Guess.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I know it didn’t involve tongues.”
“Ew. Gross. You’re definitely right about that.” Whether she knew this because of me or because of Josh was anyone’s guess.
“So how’d you do it?”
“We played rock-paper-scissors and I won two out of three times.”
She laughed so hard she snorted. “For real?”
“Yeah. I mean, what else were we going to do? It’s just a game.” The mantra I kept telling myself every time I thought about playing the next night.
Eve fussed with her charm bracelet and was quiet for a long time. It wasn’t the good quiet, like how we used to hang out and know so much about each other that we could have almost-silent conversations. It felt painful and awkward and loaded with questions I was too afraid to ask.
“It’s not that bad, you know,” she said finally, pulling at pieces of her hair to begin braiding it. The bracelet slid down her forearm and she knocked a bunch of hair bands to the ground as she separated hair, but she didn’t pick them up. Apparently, she was done with cleaning her room.
“What’s not that bad?”
“Kissing. Tongue stuff. Sex.”
I blinked slowly and paused in folding her shirt. “You’ve had sex? When?”
“No, I haven’t, but I thought about it. You know Holly’s always talking. And she told me what it’s like in detail, and I almost did it over spring break.”
She kept braiding her hair as I stared at her. “With who?”
She glanced at me in the vanity mirror. “This guy at the college who showed up to Cam’s one night when Aiden and his parents were gone.”
“A guy from the college?”
“Yeah. But I was pretty hammered and Holly said I’d regret drunken first-time sex, so she had Cam take me home.”
“A guy at the college? Someone you don’t even really know?”
“Um, yes.”
“Over spring break?”
“Yes, I said that.”
My brain stalled on that point. Spring break. This had all happened over spring break? The spring break when Eve wasn’t answering my texts except to say she was too busy to hang out. The spring break when I’d gone to see three matinees with Nan and had even let Pops teach me bridge because I was so lonely and bored. “Eve . . . ,” I said, and my voice sounded all hurt accusation.
“It wasn’
t a big deal and it’s not like I actually did it. I’m not sure why you’re being so weird about it.”
I looked down at the shirt clenched in my hands. I wanted to bite my nails so bad, but Eve would say something about it. I inhaled deeply. Sure, I knew that a good chunk of the world was having sex, so it’s not like I thought it was rocket science or anything, but still, part of me felt so betrayed. Not just that it had taken Eve this long to tell me, but that sex was something she was seriously considering at all. This wasn’t speculating about fifteen-minute orgasms promised by Cosmo, this was the real deal and Eve apparently was down for it.
“I don’t think I could be so casual about it,” I said finally. It was like she didn’t remember anything about me, or maybe didn’t care.
Eve turned around and looked at me hard. “Why? It’s only monumental if you make it that way. The whole idea of popping cherries perpetuates a bullshit virginity myth that punishes girls.”
I blinked slowly. “Who told you that?” This wasn’t exactly information garnered from GHS sex ed. If anything, our health teacher made it seem like a hymen that wasn’t intact on your wedding night was like being born with a cleft palate.
“Chloe Donnelly did.”
I released a loud sigh. Of course she did. “Well, it’s a big deal to me. You know it is.”
“Still? God. Our health teacher was full of shit. Seriously. Why are you still hung up on it?”
I didn’t know how to explain without sounding dumb—it wasn’t our health teacher; it was my mom. Eve wouldn’t get it. So instead of answering, I blurted, “Don’t you think Holly and Cam are sleazy? I mean, all the PDA and him messing with his fly after the practice game.”
Eve sniffed and turned back to the mirror. “She’s a lot different from you.”
I couldn’t tell if it was a condemnation or an explanation, and I was too scared to ask. Too scared to know the answer. I used to think Eve and I were so much alike, with all the things we agreed on or were afraid of, but she changed more every day. And I seemed to stay exactly the same.
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