by Barbara Dee
He smiled again. “I hate cats.”
“Really? I love them. I always wanted one, but my mom—”
As soon as I said the word “mom,” I froze. I should never have brought her up. She wasn’t just something to talk about.
“Allergies?” Tanner asked.
“Uh-huh. To cat fur.” Which was probably a lie Mom had told me.
“So is Logan,” Tanner said, nodding. “Her face blows up. I mean swells, not kabooms.”
“Who’s Logan?”
“Hey, I’ll show you.” He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolled thorough some stuff, then handed it to me. “That’s her on the beach,” he said proudly.
I stared at the photo. It was Orange Bikini. You could see her chest sticking out the top of her bra. Cleavage, which always sounded to me like the name of a disease. Sorry to tell you this, madam, but you’re suffering from a severe case of cleavage. Fortunately, we have antibiotics.
I swallowed. “Your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. We just had our three-month anniversary. Isn’t she hot?”
I gave him back the phone. “I guess,” I said. “I wouldn’t know.”
He grinned so I could see his perfect teeth again. “You will when you grow up,” he said.
Then he did something truly horrific. He messed my hair. Like I was a little kid. Or a puppy.
I almost bit him.
♥ ♥ ♥
Aunt Shelby called us into the kitchen for supper. I don’t know how I got through that dinner. Mrs. Clayborne kept asking me about school and Maplebrook and my friends, so basically I had to talk about how babyish I was. Tanner didn’t say very much; he ate about half the entire serving bowl of veggie chili, so he really didn’t have time to talk between bites, anyway. Finally he finished, gave a little burp into his napkin, then sent someone a text. I figured it was Orange Bikini, Whose Face Swelled Up from Cats (yay, cats!) and Who Was Snotty to Me Because She Thought I Was a Little Girl.
“Awesome chili,” Tanner said, when he’d stopped texting.
“Thank you,” Aunt Shelby said, bowing her head. “This time I added a mystery ingredient. Can you figure out what it is?”
“Cinnamon,” I said.
“Nope.”
“Ketchup?” Tanner asked.
“Nope. Although what a good idea; I might try that in the future.”
Tanner smiled. You could tell he was proud of himself for thinking of ketchup. What a dumbo, I thought.
“Hmm,” Mrs. Clayborne said, as if she were searching through her mental spice rack. “How about cumin?”
Aunt Shelby shook her braids. “Maple syrup! It really sets up the spices, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Clayborne said enthusiastically, although I might have seen her gag into her napkin.
They finally left around nine o’clock.
When the door closed, Aunt Shelby grinned at me. “So, Lia. I guess there are some nice teen boys around here, after all. Don’t you think?”
I realized this was her way of apologizing.
But I didn’t care. By then I was feeling like a messy blob of blueberry-pie filling.
“Aunt Shelby?” I said. “Can I ask you something?”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “Niecelet, you can ask me anything. Anytime.”
“Can I go home now?”
My aunt opened her mouth like she was going to protest. But all she said was, “If that’s what you want. Of course you can, Lia.”
Souvenirs
THREE DAYS LATER, I WAS back in Maplebrook. Dad didn’t ask why I wanted to come home two weeks early when none of my friends were back in town yet, and I didn’t explain. Even if he had asked, I’m not sure what I would have said. I went to Maine so I wouldn’t have to deal with girl stuff; I came home so I wouldn’t have to deal with Shelby. Because the truth was my aunt was the total opposite of my mom. Who knew how to listen. Who didn’t act judgy. And who would never have hired a spy, or invited Tanner for dinner, or tricked me into getting bras instead of blueberry pancakes.
Or stuffed the bras into my duffel bag along with three more, the kind with the padding. Aunt Shelby had obviously gone back to Winnie’s Intimates on her own, without me, and said to Winnie something like, “Oh, I’m sure my little niecelet meant to buy these super-fake padded ones too and was just too shy to admit it!” And Winnie would have answered, “You’re the expert, Shel—and at forty percent off, they’re a steal!” Aunt Shelby must have decided it was simpler not to mention them to me, and just snuck them into my bag right before Dad came to drive me home. She’d even pinned a note to the pink bra with the little-girl ribbon in the center:
Dear Lia,
Even if you don’t think you need these now, you will later. Heywood girls are late bloomers, but we’re worth the wait!!
Here whenever you need me. Call anytime, and please visit again soon!!
So much love,
Aunt Shelby, Stinkbug, Pashmina, Escobar, Doomhammer & Archie. Also Demon Spawn, who is feeling much better now.
When I read this note, I was so mad I felt like punching something. My aunt had zipped open my private bag, forced those extra stupid bras on me, maybe even snooped through my personal things, because she thought she “owed it” to Mom. Did she ever once consider my feelings? It was clear that the answer was no.
I tossed the bras—all eight of them now!—into my closet.
For the next two weeks Dad kept Nate and me busy with end-of-summer stuff—doctor checkups, dentist checkups, an expedition to the Maplebrook Mall for new sneakers. He even took me shopping for a few new tops and a couple of sweaters, which I thought was pretty nice of him. Although back-to-school shopping was one of those things that made me miss Mom extra hard, so I only pretended to be happy.
On the Wednesday before school was about to start, Marley came home from Chicago. She’d brought me a tiny Chicago Cubs pennant, so I gave her three pieces of sea glass—green, ice blue, and white. She went nuts thanking me for them and promised to draw them in different poses. Then she went on and on about all the fun stuff she did in art class, all the fun places she visited in Chicago, and all the fun things she did with her fun cousins. Finally she asked about my summer.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “I mostly hung out on the beach. And read.”
I saw her eyes change behind her glasses. I knew that look very well. She felt sorry for me.
“ . . . and shopped with my aunt,” I added.
“Yeah?” Marley said. “Like for what?”
“You know. Stuff I can’t really do with my dad.”
She blinked. “Oh, right,” she said. “That.”
The next day Abi, Jules, and Makayla returned from camp. I knew about the bus arriving in Maplebrook because I still had a copy of the camp schedule, and for a minute I actually considered meeting them in the parking lot. But I didn’t.
That night Abi and Jules showed up at my house.
I screamed when I opened the door. They screamed back.
We stood there screaming.
Nate came running. “Lia, what’s going—oh. Hey, Julianna. Did you have a nice summer?”
“Yeah,” Jules said, smiling. All the screaming had turned her cheeks extra pink. “It was awesome. How was yours?”
“Not too bad, considering I was stuck here.”
“Oh, poor Nate,” Abi exclaimed. “My heart bleeds for you.” She laughed loudly.
The three of us ran upstairs to my room. I immediately shut the door, and we all plopped on my bed. Abi looked browner than before. Taller, too, as if her body had been stretched after washing. (So I didn’t see how Nate—or anybody else—could call her “fat” anymore. Not that she ever was.) She was wearing her long dark hair pulled tightly in a high side ponytail; that was a new style for Abi, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, truthfully. I mean, it made her look older.
Jules looked the same as before the summer, except her blond hair was lightened by the sun, and her skin w
as scabby with old mosquito bites and faded poison ivy. Both of them were wearing tank tops that showed pink bra straps; both of them had fingernails polished sky blue.
“Omigod, we haven’t been together in ages,” Abi exclaimed. “I missed you so much, Lia! But you know I’m still mad at how you deserted us like that!”
“But you can’t be,” I protested. “I wrote you back, didn’t I? You said you’d be mad if I didn’t.”
“You didn’t write to me,” Jules said, pouting.
“That’s because I didn’t have tons to report.” I stopped myself; the last thing I wanted was more friend pity. “Anyhow, I was kind of busy at my aunt’s. Did you have a great time?”
“Haha, did we, Jules?” Abi teased. “Oh yeah, and we made something for you.”
They both reached into the pockets of their shorts and pulled out lanyard thingies. One was red, white, and blue, and the other was yellow and green, our school colors.
I didn’t know what to say. Lanyards were one of those things that were so important when you were at camp and kind of pointless once you were back in the real world.
“They’re key chains,” Abi explained.
“Or you could use them for other stuff,” Jules said.
“But they’re best as key chains,” Abi insisted.
“They’re so cool,” I gushed. “Thanks.”
But if Abi and Jules were giving me souvenirs, I had to give them something too, so I reached into a bin to scoop up more sea glass. It stung a little to give away so much of my newest collection, and who knew when I’d ever go back to Aunt Shelby’s beach. But the sea glass seemed to be a good choice, anyway; they both went, “Oooooh.”
“So where’s Makayla?” I asked, when they’d finished oohing.
Abi and Jules exchanged glances.
“What?” I said.
“It’s . . . um, gotten slightly weird with her lately,” Jules said. She scratched a scab on her shoulder.
“What do you mean by ‘weird’?” I looked at Abi.
Abi sighed. “I’m only telling you about this because I trust you, Lia. You can’t tell anyone else.”
“Who would I tell?”
“I don’t know. Marley?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” I promised. “What happened?”
“Okay. So all summer I had this mega crush on this lifeguard named Nick.”
“Junior lifeguard,” Jules reminded her.
“And Makayla knew about it?” I asked.
Abi nodded. “Oh, definitely. And by the way, she’s called Mak now.”
“Mak?”
“Everybody in our cabin had to have a nickname,” Jules explained. “I already have one, obviously, and nobody calls Abi ‘Abigail,’ so Makayla had to be Mak. Oh, and all the counselors were named after food. Like we had Cupcake, Lollipop, Snickers, Funyun—”
“Wait,” I said, giggling. “ ‘Funyun’?”
“Anyway,” Abi said loudly. “So on the last day of camp, when we were all at the lake, Mak kept showing off her swim-team strokes. To get Nick’s attention. And it totally worked. He didn’t pay one bit of attention to me; when he got on the bus, he didn’t even say good-bye.”
“Huh,” I said. “Are you saying she was trying to steal him from you, Abi? Maybe she was just practicing for swim team.”
“You want to know the truth, Lia? Mak is always so competitive with me! It got really, really bad this summer. It’s like she has to be the best all the time, and she won’t let me have anything.” Abi’s voice wobbled.
Jules put her arm around Abi’s shoulder.
“Did you talk to her about it?” I asked.
“I tried! She just denied the whole thing. The worst part was that she didn’t even care that she hurt my feelings.” Abi sighed. “Oh, never mind, Lia. I didn’t mean to talk about all this. I really just wanted to invite you to my sleepover this Saturday night. Can you come?”
“Sure,” I said quickly.
“Yay!” Jules beamed at me. “Marley’s coming too.”
“But not—?”
“Of course I invited Mak, but who knows if she’ll even come,” Abi said. “It’s totally up to her, you know?”
Then they both left, leaving the sea glass on my bed.
Truth or Dare
THAT SATURDAY AT FIVE-THIRTY, MARLEY showed up at my door wearing a Chicago Cubs jersey, blue gym shorts, and blue and red rubber bands on her teeth. We were walking over to Abi’s together, which was definitely awkward, because Abi had told me not to tell “anyone” about the business with Makayla, and “anyone” included Marley. But then I realized that Abi and Jules had already invited Marley before they came to my house, so maybe they’d told her the whole Makayla story first.
Although I doubted it. It wasn’t just because Abi had said all that stuff about telling me because she trusted me. It was also because of a feeling I had, a feeling I didn’t like to admit—that Marley was connected to the group through me. That the other girls didn’t see her coolness the way I did. That she was sort of on the edge of things, like a moon that could slip out of orbit one day and just kind of drift away.
I worried: What would Marley think when we got to Abi’s if Makayla wasn’t there? Would Abi (and Jules) even give her any explanation? Or make up a lame excuse—Mak said she had her period and just felt too bleh to see her best friends?
But it turned out that I didn’t need to worry about any of this. Because when Marley and I arrived at Abi’s house, Makayla was already there, in the kitchen, sitting on a stool and eating cherry Twizzlers.
“No more braces!” she shouted as a greeting. “They came off yesterday, and now I can eat Twizzlers again, my long-lost loves!”
“That’s so great!” I exclaimed. My eyes darted over to Abi, to see if I could detect any weirdness between them. But Abi was beaming.
So was Makayla. “Although I still have this stupid retainer, but I don’t care! I don’t care if I turn into a Twizzler!”
Abi, Jules, and Marley laughed.
Abi put her arm around Makayla’s shoulder. “Careful, dahling. Or you’ll end up like Ren!”
“Who’s Ren?” Marley asked.
“Omigod,” Makayla exclaimed. “This girl at camp? All she ate was ice cream and carrots, ice cream and carrots.”
“Together?” Marley made a face.
“No, you dummy, one at a time. Ice cream, then nothing but carrots all day. Then more ice cream and a ton more carrots. And from all the carrots? Her skin actually turned orange.”
“It literally did,” Abi said, laughing. “She looked like she had a spray-on tan, except she picked the wrong shade.”
“It’s not funny,” Jules said. But she was giggling.
“Girls, to me your friend sounds like she had some eating issues,” Val commented. How much had she been hearing, I wondered, as Val turned off the oven and stacked some plates on the table for us. “I certainly hope you didn’t eat like that this summer.”
“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Makayla said, laughing. “We ate everything! And seconds! And thirds!”
“Omigod, that chocolate cake they had at camp.” Jules gasped dramatically. “I’m going to starve without it, I swear.”
Val smiled. “Yes, I heard about that cake from Abi, so I thought I’d make chocolate cupcakes for you girls for dessert. After pizza.” She put one arm around Abi’s shoulder and one arm around mine. “Oh, I missed my girls so much,” she cried.
“We missed you too,” Makayla said. Then she threw her arms around Val and squeezed the three of us, which made me feel like a limp piece of lettuce inside an overstuffed sandwich.
♥ ♥ ♥
When we’d finished our pizza, Abi announced, “All right, dahlings, time for fun and games!”
Looking back at everything that happened, this probably should have been a giant neon warning sign for me. Seventh-grade girls don’t do “fun and games” unless there’s a trophy involved. At least, we didn�
��t; all the girls I knew were ultra-competitive.
But I was just so glad to be back with my friends. They weren’t even fighting anymore. We were having a sleepover at Abi’s, the way we always did—pizza for supper, then one of Val’s amazing desserts. And it was so nice how she let us bring the cupcakes upstairs to Abi’s formerly pink bedroom, which was now black and white and full of so many clashing animal-skin patterns it made me kind of woozy.
The five of us sat cross-legged on the floor, trying not to get chocolate frosting on Abi’s new white shag rug.
“Okay, so here’s the game,” Abi announced. “It’s called Truth or Dare.”
“Truth or Dare?” Marley repeated, licking some frosting off her pointer finger.
“We played it in camp this summer,” Makayla explained. “It’s the most fun ever. The way it works is—”
“You don’t need to tell me,” Marley interrupted. “I do it with my cousins. And I’m not sure.”
“About what?”
“If it’s such a good idea, frankly.”
Makayla shrugged. “We played it with counselors. As a bonding thing.”
“It’s really fun, Marley,” Jules said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Marley said. “I just don’t know if I want to play.”
Abi shrugged. “Fine. Then don’t.”
A secret conversation started then between Abi’s eyes and Makayla’s eyes. Jules’s eyes might have been in on it too; I couldn’t tell for sure.
“Hey, guys,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Can you explain the rules to me? I’ve never played Truth or Dare.”
(This wasn’t a lie; I’d never played it before. I knew the rules, though; pretending not to was just a way to change the subject.)
“Okay, Lia,” Abi said, happy that she could explain something. “So we sit in a circle, right? And let’s say I start. I turn to the first person on my right, who in this case is the beauteous Mak—”
Makayla did a diva smile and wave.
“—and I ask her, truth or dare?”
“Truth, dahling,” Makayla said, making a kissy face.