by Robin Talley
“All right,” I said. “I promise. But this still isn’t right. You have to end it before it goes too far.”
“How far is too far, exactly?”
“Lori. Come on.” We locked eyes. “Tell me you haven’t.”
She stared back at me for a long moment. I finally exhaled when she said, “I haven’t.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“But you’ve changed, Aki. You used to have my back.”
“I still have your back, but come on—”
“You’re a different person down here.” Lori pressed her lips together tightly. “I think about you and her sitting around making fun of me, and it makes me want to throw up. You start hooking up with somebody for, what, a week, and suddenly you know everything there is to know about sex, and this random girl is more important than your best friend.”
“She isn’t.” I swallowed. “We don’t make fun of you. I’d never do that.”
“Yeah, okay.” Lori looked down. Her chin quivered. “I’ve barely seen you since we got here. You stick me with this stupid jewelry project and you barely even help—”
“I totally help!”
“And all you want to talk about is her. All you want to think about is her. Then you tell her about this thing we did and suddenly it’s all a big joke. Well, whatever. What I have going on is a thousand times better than what you and her have.”
“No. What you’re doing is wrong, Lori. Come on. You’ve got to see that.”
The look in her eyes was dead serious. “If you don’t have my back, I don’t have yours. That’s how it works.”
“I do have your back, just not on this one thing. Look, let’s go talk to someone—I bet your aunt Miranda will know what to do if we only—”
“No! God! You promised you wouldn’t tell and now you want to go tattle on me to Miranda?”
“No, that’s not what I said, I—”
“Forget it.” Lori looked up. There were tears in her eyes. “Forget all of it. You can borrow your stupid girlfriend’s clothes from now on.”
Lori turned around and walked alone into the dark.
CHAPTER 12
Three days went by.
Lori and I didn’t speak. When we saw each other, we turned and looked away. In our jewelry lessons, we sat on opposite ends of the blanket and divided everything in half without a single word. As though we didn’t even know each other.
I’d barely gone twelve hours without talking to Lori since we were kids. I hadn’t realized how much I counted on her. I’d listen to the guys in our group telling dumb jokes and I’d already be rehearsing in my head how I’d recount it all to Lori.
Then I’d remember I couldn’t tell her. I was on my own.
It wasn’t as if this was the first time we’d argued. There was the Barry Tuckerton thing in middle school, of course. And once last year on a field trip, Lori had gotten bored and told three of our friends this made-up story about some guy she’d supposedly hooked up with, and I was annoyed at her about it, and we argued in hushed tones for the whole bus ride home. By the time we got back to school, though, we’d pretty much forgotten the whole thing.
This was different. This was...painful.
This was my best friend, gone. It felt as though a part of myself was gone with her.
I didn’t even really have Christa to talk to anymore. There was nowhere it was safe to be alone. We hadn’t kissed since the night Jake caught us. We still had lunch every day with the rest of our group at the Suarezes’ house, but lately Christa had started spending most of lunch going back and forth to the kitchen. At first I thought she was avoiding me, but then I realized Señora Suarez was teaching Christa how to make Mexican food. Christa’s face, whenever I saw her at lunch, was either screwed up in concentration as she tried to get the beans right or blushing when Señora Suarez pointed at something she’d done and said, “¡Bueno!”
Every now and then, when no one was around, Christa and I would smile at each other. Sometimes we’d touch hands.
I’d started borrowing her clothes, too. They didn’t fit me any better than Lori’s had, but wearing them was exciting, and it was kind of a turn-on. Which was nice, since hand touching wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I pictured my summer fling.
I’d been spending more time with Gina and our other friends, and with Jake, who I was really starting to like. I’d even hung out with Drew and Sofía some, and to my surprise, that was actually fun.
Drew looked at me differently now, as though he was seeing me for the first time. At first he kept giving me weird looks, like he expected me to start doing, I don’t know, overtly lesbian stuff right in front of him. But eventually, when he saw that I hadn’t shaved my head or tried to make out with Sofía or anything, he seemed to calm down. But the best part was, it turned out Sofía was a fellow Prince fan. I didn’t tell her just how into him I was—it was too embarrassing to admit that I used to dream about growing up to be Prince, or that my favorite song was—well. But either way, Sofía knew a lot about him, and soon we were analyzing the differences between his eighties albums and his later stuff and reenacting all those weirdly cryptic interviews he used to give so often that Drew had learned to groan and wander off whenever we got going.
Still, though, as I sat in vespers that night, trying to sing along in Spanish to a song about Jesus being the king of my life, all I could think about was how my summer had been ruined before it could even get going.
Up until I got to Mexico, the idea of having a girlfriend—even a kinda-sorta-not-really-because-she’s-with-someone-else-but-still-kinda girlfriend—was this faraway idea I’d thought about with words like maybe and someday. I’d imagined an older version of me, in college or something, who was so mature that dating a girl would be no big deal. Back then, I figured that if I ever really hooked up, or even had sex, with a girl, that it would all fall into place easily.
In reality, nothing with Christa and me was easy. I hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to keep things between us secret. Maybe if we were back in Maryland where we could be alone—where we had actual houses or even cars—things would be different. Here, though, everything seemed to be a problem.
Next to me, Jake wiggled his eyebrows at the King Jesus song. I laughed. At least I had one friend who things weren’t complicated with.
Jake started lip-syncing along to the song with really exaggerated movements. He basically unhinged his jaw on the last, big “Jesus!”, silently howling at the ceiling. I choked down my laughs so Dad wouldn’t notice.
Then I spotted Nick and Tyler across from us. Nick was imitating Jake, his own “Jesus!” howl directed at Tyler, who was laughing a lot louder than I had. Soon I noticed other people watching Nick and laughing, too. When I glanced back at Jake, his face had collapsed.
Everyone was clapping now that the song was over. I held out my hands so Jake would know I was clapping for him as Lori’s aunt Miranda, that night’s vespers leader, gave the closing.
“Now we depart with the holy spirit in our hearts,” she intoned.
“Amen,” we all chorused.
I climbed to my feet and held out my hand to help Jake up. I was about to tell him not to worry about Nick and his dumb friends when I heard someone else come up behind me. I couldn’t see who it was, but Jake said, “Hey, Christa.”
“Hey, Christa,” I echoed. When I turned, I was startled to see her only inches from me.
“Hey.” She half smiled as she bit her lip. “I was wondering if we could talk?”
Everyone was still milling around Reverend Perez’s living room. The adults weren’t paying any special attention to Christa and me, but we were getting stares from some of the others. Christa didn’t seem to mind, though.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
As so
on as we got outside, Christa started walking to the long tables under the trees where we’d eaten dinner. People would see us there, but we’d be too far away for them to hear us talking. I turned to say goodbye to Jake, but he’d already slipped away.
Christa lowered herself onto one of the benches. I made sure I left space between us as I sat next to her. She pulled her digital camera out of her bag.
“Turn to your left,” she instructed. “Look at the sky, the way you were doing a second ago.”
I turned, a smile climbing onto my face before I could stop myself.
“No, don’t smile. Look neutral.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I tried to look blank. Christa grabbed my chin, making me giggle, and turned my head a little farther to the left. Then she let go.
“Okay,” she said. “Make your expression serious.”
“I’m trying!” But I couldn’t stop giggling.
She giggled, too, but she started taking photos anyway, the camera clicking away just out of my view. Finally I managed to smooth out my face. She took more shots, then got down on the ground to take photos of me from below.
“This is getting weird,” I said.
“It’s okay, I got what I needed.” She climbed back onto the bench beside me. “You should really be an art model. You have the coolest face. All these incredibly interesting angles.”
“Uh. Thanks, I guess?”
“Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” She tucked her camera back into her bag. “When you’re a rock star, you’ll be on all the magazine covers. The celebrity photographers will love you.”
I covered my face with my hand. “I’m not going to be a rock star.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. Hey, when we can finally get online, you’ve got to play me some of your songs. Since I can’t convince you to sing for me.”
Some of my songs were probably still online. I hadn’t listened to them since middle school, though. I could only guess how crappy they’d sound now.
“Maybe.” As always, I changed the subject. “So, this is kind of nice. I’m not used to sitting someplace like this, where people can see us together.”
Christa tilted her head backward. The motion made her shiny dark hair slide off her shoulder and curl against the back of her neck. I traced the line of skin there with my eyes. I imagined reaching over and lifting her hair off her neck. Running my fingers along the curve of her shoulder blades.
“It makes me nervous, though,” she said. “After what happened last time.”
Okay, we probably shouldn’t have tried to hook up in the church where everyone we knew spent half their time. That hadn’t been my brightest idea.
Still, though. There was something about the way she talked about it. As though she was ashamed of me. Or of what we did together.
Maybe she wasn’t that far off. After all, if my dad found out, apparently he’d be crushed.
I didn’t want to think about that anymore.
So I said, “Lori isn’t speaking to me.”
Christa looked up, her mouth in an O of surprise. “What happened?”
“She—” I hesitated. I wanted to tell her everything, but Lori had sworn me to secrecy, and even if we weren’t friends anymore, I wasn’t about to betray her again. “She’s mad at me. I guess word got out that she liked Paul.”
“Well, that’s not your fault.” Christa shrugged. “That’s how it is in these kinds of places. Everybody knows everything that’s going on. She’ll get over it in a couple of days.”
“It’s already been a couple of days, and she isn’t over it yet. And, look, it is my fault. She heard Rodney telling some guys he’d heard about it from Madison.”
“Madison?” Christa’s forehead creased.
“Yeah. You told her, right?”
Christa looked away. “She wouldn’t tell anyone. I trust Madison.”
“She definitely told them. Lori heard them laughing about it.”
Christa shook her head. “It couldn’t have been her.”
“No one else knew. Besides, you shouldn’t have told her.”
“You—” Christa looked away. “You never told me it was a secret.”
Crap. I hadn’t? “Still. You should’ve known. I thought I could trust you.”
Christa drew her shoulders up. Then she hung her head. “I’m sorry. You can trust me. Listen, I’ll talk to Madison. She’ll be sorry, too. I know Lori was your best friend, and it really blows when something like this happens.”
Is, I wanted to correct her. Not was. Lori and I were best friends right now.
But what if that wasn’t true? What if this was the end for Lori and me?
“Anytime you need to talk, I’m here,” Christa said. “I mean, it’s hard because we can’t really be alone, but if you’re, you know, missing your BFF, I get it. I’ve been there. It’s the worst.”
“Thanks.” It was hard to stay annoyed at her when she was being so nice. “Well, actually, I do have something to tell you. Something kind of big.”
“What is it?” She touched her pinky to mine. I felt warm all over, even though I was nervous, too.
“I—um. I told my brother.”
Christa’s head shot up. Her hand fell away from mine. She clearly knew exactly what I meant. “Why?”
“Because he asked me, and he’s my brother. I’m not going to lie to him.”
Christa’s face was scarlet. “What if he tells someone?”
“He’s not going to tell anyone.”
Christa turned away, staring off into the clusters of people lingering around the edges of the Perezes’ yard.
“Does your dad know?” Christa’s hands trembled in her lap.
“Of course not. Drew won’t tell him. He promised.”
I didn’t mention what Drew had said about Dad being crushed. Telling Christa would only make it more real.
She dropped her face into her hands. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
I sighed. “I’m glad Drew knows. He was fine with it, and now I don’t have to worry about keeping a secret from him. It’s better this way.”
Christa lifted her head. “I told you, I can’t risk my parents finding out.”
“I know, but no one here is going to tell your parents. Not my brother, not our friends and not any of these random people from West Virginia. It’s seriously going to be fine.” I swiveled around on the bench, staring down at the surface of the table. I traced a swirl in the cracked paint with my finger. “And I kind of wish you could be happy for me about telling Drew. Because that was a pretty big deal for me.”
We sat in silence. I traced the swirl in wider and wider circles and kept my eyes on the table, trying not to think about what Christa might say. How her voice might sound.
I could feel the stars watching us overhead. I wondered if there were people watching us, too.
“I am happy for you,” she said, finally. “That’s awesome, about your brother. I just...can’t imagine what that would be like. That’s all.”
I didn’t know how to answer her. So we sat there in the dark, in the still silence, until I felt something touch my finger.
I looked down. My hand had been resting on the bench beside her, and now her fingertip was brushing the edge of my wrist. I ached to move closer, to slip my hand into hers.
“I’m sorry I’m so complicated,” she whispered. Her finger traced the outside of my hand. I wanted to put my arm around her. To kiss her, right there. “The only thing I know for sure is that this summer, I want to be with you. Sometimes I wish I could make everything else go away and have it only be you and me in our own little world.”
I closed my eyes. Those words.
I never knew how much words could mean.
“I wan
t to be with you, too.” I kept my eyes focused on our hands. If I looked into her eyes, I was pretty sure I’d collapse. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this many things at once and still be sitting here like a normal person.
“I think that’s all that really matters.” Christa was still whispering. “We can figure the rest of it out. We’ve got to be careful, but what matters is that we make the most of the time when we can be together.”
I nodded. “It’s worth it.”
I wanted so badly to kiss her. I settled for stroking her finger instead.
She wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with her.
And that was it. That was what mattered.
CHAPTER 13
Maybe we could meet at the work site, at night.
Except it smelled like paint in there. And it was so big. Totally exposed. At least in the old church there was a tarp to hide behind.
Maybe we could go into town? There didn’t seem to be many streetlights in Mudanza. We could hide and kiss in the shadows.
But we wouldn’t be safe outside. Anyone could stumble across us. And who knew how far the coyotes roamed?
Besides, kissing wasn’t enough anymore. Now that we’d gotten started, I wanted to go forward, not back.
I could see the pink streak in Christa’s hair over on the far side of the group. She was walking with her friends, snapping photos every so often, but I resisted the urge to look her way. It had been almost a full week since we’d last kissed—three days since she’d said those words, I want to be with you—and I ached to touch her again.
We had to find a place. Soon.
But it was Saturday afternoon, which meant we were walking into town, and Christa and I were studiously pretending to ignore each other, just as we’d planned.
Not that anyone seemed to notice. Everyone was too caught up in their own dramas.
The latest development was Nick and Emma, who were walking at the front of our group. The rest of us were behind them, whispering at the sight of their linked hands. As of yesterday, the last I’d heard was that Nick and Hannah were a thing. Maybe that was why Hannah was walking at the very back of the group, surrounded by three of her friends, holding her hand in front of her face.