Blending Out

by Priyanka Bagrodia

  “Ryley, you’re the one who wanted to come to this. Do you want me to turn around?” Her mom’s hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel, and Ryley could hear the tiredness in her tone. Although her mom had quit her strategy consulting job to raise them, she regularly helped her dad clinch deals, and Ryley’s mom and dad had spent the whole day figuring out how to close a prospective client.

  “No, I’m good,” Ryley said, making sure to draw the O sound out. She’d recently stumbled upon a whole collection of whale songs when she was looking for new forms of white noise to drown out Harrison’s trumpet playing, and she liked how the whales wailed their Os.

  “Okay, great. I know you’ll be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, call me, okay? I’ll come in a heartbeat. Or Harrison can take you home. He’s going to be at Homecoming too.”

  “It’s fine. There’s no way I’m going to make him leave early. He’ll think I’m so lame.”

  “Ryley, he acts tough and all, but you know he would never judge you. He loves you.” Ryley would 100 percent disagree on the judgment bit, but he was probably a better choice for a getaway driver than her mom; he’d be quick and smooth leaving. And he’d already be at the scene of the crime, so Ryley said nothing and just pulled on the red shirt with the Go Wolverines! plastered across the front, ridding it of imaginary wrinkles. As they pulled up to the curb in front of Carly’s house, Ryley began revving herself up. Going straight to Homecoming from a pregame with the softball girls would be good for her. It would definitely help refurbish her image.

  As Ryley sat there, giving herself a pep talk, her mom softly chuckled before reaching over the console to yank her into a hug, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Go now.”

  Ryley let out a long-suffering sigh but finally pushed the car door open, waving bye to her mom, even as her mother’s car stayed stationary. She wouldn’t leave until Ryley had entered Carly’s house. Ryley stepped gingerly onto the grass, pulling at her shirt once again and running her fingers lightly against one of her eyebrows. She’d only recently begun getting her eyebrows threaded as part of the whole makeover routine, and she hated every second of it. The Indian cosmetologist who saw her would always tell her that her “eyebrows looked like a man’s” without fail and yank out the hair mercilessly. Ryley knocked on Carly’s door and then ran a couple of fingers against her traumatized right eyebrow again as she waited for Carly to open the door.

  A second louder knock and phone call later, Carly threw open the door, giving Ryley a bear hug and a giant smile though her glazed eyes seemed to look slightly through Ryley and beyond. Ryley offered Carly a shy smile and a small flap of her hand.

  Carly exclaimed, “Rye-Rye! Come in, come in. All the girls are already here. I’ve invited the baseball guys over too, so they’ll be here in about thirty and then we can all leave together to go to the game.” Ryley gave what she hoped was an enthusiastic nod and stepped gingerly across the threshold.

  All the girls were lounging on bright, patterned cushions thrown haphazardly on the carpeted living room floor, the couches pushed to the side. Two of the seniors sat huddled on one of the couches, whispering to one another. As Ryley watched, one threw her head back, almost knocking down one of the paintings hung up on the white crepe wall. The painting looked expensive, but Carly didn’t bat an eye as she pounced on the two girls, half-sitting on one with carefree disregard. Ryley turned her feet toward the girls sitting on the floor. A couple of them gave her small waves; most, however, kept their eyes focused on Kyle. Kyle was in fine form, holding court.

  “At this point, I’ve called him a friend a billion times, and I’ve blown him off to go on a ‘date’ that’s just me hanging out with my dad, but he really doesn’t want to get it.”

  “Oh, no!” a couple of the girls interrupted to half-laugh, half-moan.

  “Right? So eventually, I have to just be straight with him, and I say, ‘I think you’re really sweet, but I promise I’m not going to change my mind, so please move on to someone else. Besides, date me for a month, and you’ll be begging to go back to being friends.’” The other girls laughed, charmed by Kyle’s perfect blend of self-deprecation and entertainment value.

  Ryley was curious to know which boy Kyle was talking about and pondered what it must be like to inspire that sort of devotion in someone else. Kyle was definitely beautiful in a sort of classical way, but she’d always thought boys preferred less muscular girls, and Kyle was built. That being said, she was bleach-blond and funny, and in theater and Improv. A real renaissance woman.

  Ryley settled down on one of the open seat cushions toward the periphery of the group as Kyle matched wits with another girl there. Ryley listened to them casually discuss boys, last week’s party, and Mr. Newton’s impossible exam. With nothing to contribute, she stayed silent, focused on taking it all in and listening to the careless, self-assured way they talked. As Kyle circled back to discuss “the boy”—though Kyle must have shared his name at some point given the way three-quarters of the girls smirked when she said that—Ryley focused on the bouquet of scents around her. She loved the grown-up smell of perfume; she picked up vanilla on one girl, citrus notes on another, and sandalwood on a third.

  Eventually, at some point in Kyle’s repeated story, Carly walked past Ryley and leaned slightly down to say, “Oh Rye-Rye, take whatever you want from the table. My brother bought a bunch of stuff for us.”

  Ryley hesitated and then said, “I’m good for now.” She hoped Carly wouldn’t make a big deal of it.

  Carly responded, “Okay, but we’re playing Never Have I Ever, so you’ll need something.” She then turned to the larger group of girls and repeated herself, causing all the girls to get up and scurry over to the drinks table.

  Ryley hoisted herself up, got a head rush because she’d gotten up too fast, stumbled, gracefully, of course, and trudged her way over to the table. She found herself next to Carly at the back of the group as they waited for girls to pick out drinks.

  Ryley racked her brains for something to say and finally just landed on, “Who was the boy Kyle was talking about?”

  “Just some guy named Josh. He’s on the baseball team and thinks he’s way cooler than he is, but he means well.”

  Ryley considered poking fun at Josh, bringing up to Carly that he’d had the nerve to lecture her about having no game, but she decided the poor boy had been punished enough. She simply said, “Oh, I know him.”

  “Yeah, he’s a good kid. He just needs to grow up.” Ryley could get behind that sentiment. As Carly got pulled into another conversation, Ryley let her gaze drift to the far side of the room where Anu was sitting. Ryley had yet to go over and say hi, but Anu had not been making any effort to socialize, texting on her phone all evening. A couple of the girls half-heartedly called out to Anu, urging her to try something, but Anu was steadfast in refusing. Ryley knew where Anu was coming from; Anu’s parents were the type to stay up until Anu came home and would freak if they smelled alcohol on her. Ryley was thankful she didn’t have to deal with that.

  Pulling up to the drinks table, she dithered, saw Carly grab a Bud Light, and then grabbed one too—she liked the Clydesdale horses from the commercials. The metal can was also an added bonus, obscuring the volume of beer inside; she’d easily be able to take the beer to the bathroom and dump most of it. Movies showing drunk people unwittingly speaking their unfiltered truths and making fools of themselves were the only form of anti-drinking propaganda Ryley needed to see.

  When Ryley turned from the table, she saw there was only one open cushion left, located next to Anu. Ryley went over to Anu slightly hesitantly, leery of others thinking she was not making an effort to blend in by going to sit next to the one other Indian. Ryley made a show of taking a swig of beer as she sat down. She was trying.

  “Hey Anu,” Ryley said, confident and level. The slight hesitance marking her tone during the entire evening was notably absent with Anu.

  “Hi.” Anu’s response wasn’t
very encouraging.

  “What’s up? I don’t see you hanging much with the team,” Ryley said, letting the words trail away, allowing the unsaid question to linger.

  “Yeah, they’re not my vibe.” Anu fidgeted with a cushion.

  “Got it, got it,” Ryley said for lack of anything better. She couldn’t agree. She wanted the team to become “her vibe.” After a few more seconds of silence, Ryley asked, “So who do you hang out with?”

  “No one you would know. None of them are Indian. They’re all juniors involved in artsy stuff.”

  Ryley dropped the names of two juniors in her honors calculus class to show she did know juniors who weren’t Indian. Anu stayed silent, texting someone on her phone. As Anu smiled at the response, Ryley tried to surreptitiously peek and see if the name was masculine or feminine. Maybe Anu was too good for the softball team because she had a boyfriend on the sly. Anu turned her phone over. Ryley couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed; it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Finally, the game started.

  “Okay, never have I ever done coke.”

  “Never have I ever done oral.”

  “Never have I ever done a keg stand.”

  Ryley hadn’t done anything, clearly. She didn’t even bother faking a half-lift, like she was considering drinking, like she’d done something that came anywhere close.

  “Ryley, your turn.”

  Saying she’d never kissed a boy would be horrific; she tried to think of something more hardcore.

  “Never have I ever had sex.” About half the girls drank. Not bad.

  Kyle shouted out, “Ryley, play your cards right tonight, and we can change things.”

  Ryley forced herself to make a chuckle-like noise, even as she considered what it would be like to just get it over with early. The game continued for some rounds more and Ryley sipped her drink cautiously. She didn’t like the light buzz that began to run through her, making her feel entirely out of sorts. She felt like she was slightly floating and could see herself letting her guard down and spilling all the feelings out. She stopped sipping.

  She surreptitiously glanced around, but no one was watching her. They were all too fascinated watching Kyle and Carly consume their drinks with alarming rapidity. As Kyle nonchalantly talked about all the things she had done, Ryley felt a surge of surprising resentment run through her. Ryley wished she knew where Kyle got the courage from.

  Soon, the baseball boys were ringing the doorbell, and because everyone was running late, they almost immediately left for the football game. Before leaving Carly’s house, Ryley made a quick run to the bathroom, and with a huge sigh of relief, dumped her beer down the drain.

  * * *

  Ryley was seated next to Kyle and Josh in the eighth row of the bleachers. Josh had cajoled Kyle into being in his car and Ryley had asked to be in it—he was the only baseball player she knew. But Josh had taken a wrong turn, so by the time they’d arrived, everyone else was already settled into the bleachers and they’d been relegated to the outskirts of their softball-baseball group. Although it wasn’t too cold a night, they were comfortably into sweater weather, and Ryley wished they could have sat in the center of the grouping and been afforded the protection of body heat. Ryley’s sweater was slightly on the thinner side and pulling the sleeves over her hands and tucking her hands between her crossed legs was doing nothing in the way of generating even an iota of extra warmth. Beside her, Kyle and Josh seemed relatively unaffected by the wind chill, but they had drunk significantly more than she had; she’d heard that alcohol made people less sensitive to the cold.

  As others jeered at the football players, Ryley looked around her, taking in the general merriment and the carnival air. The large, fluorescent outdoor stadium lights shone a spotlight on the field and on the parking lot to the right, where dozens of food stands were set up. The stands were staffed with parents handing out cotton candy, samosas, boba tea, burritos, falafel, and so much more. Josh and Kyle, citing hunger pains, had demanded they go over to the food stands immediately upon getting there, blitzing past the drumline and the milieu of people wandering along on the dark red track that formed a natural perimeter to the football field. Ryley had followed them even though she’d eaten beforehand, wanting to keep her hands clean and not risk spilling.

  When Ryley, Josh, and Kyle had swung by the Indian food stand so Kyle could get a samosa, Ryley had been surprised to see the line spilling out twenty people deep. As she had breathed in the smell of fried onion and garlic wafting outside the confines of the tent and into the open air, Josh had nudged her, asking her if she was happy to see the stand’s popularity. She’d nodded. The Indian food was inescapably a representation of her in a way that no food would ever be for him.

  Josh nudged her again now. “So, how’d you like your first softball party?”

  “It was good, I had fun.” It wasn’t like she could say anything else; they were surrounded, but she could appreciate his politeness. And she had liked the thrill of living up to the high school movie experience instead of just watching it.

  “Yeah, good group of girls,” he said fondly, a tad too presumptuously. Kyle looked at him and shook her head but said nothing.

  Ryley, not wanting the conversation to so quickly sputter, asked, “How about you? What did you do beforehand?”

  He puffed out his chest slightly. “I actually hosted our pregame. My parents were away, so I offered up my home. Don’t worry though, I didn’t drink much. I took the wrong turn because I’m a moron, not because I was buzzed.”

  Ryley was gratified he’d thought to assure her, that he’d predicted the thoughts going through her mind. Before she could say anything, Kyle butted in.

  “What the hell, Josh! You should have had all of us over. We wouldn’t have needed to go to Carly’s to pregame then.” So much for sisterhood. Ryley’s thoughts must have shown on her face because Kyle followed up by saying, “Whatever. We had fun. You all missed out coming as late as you did.”

  As she finished speaking, Kyle pulled out a flask and pushed it at Ryley. Ryley passed it over to Josh.

  Kyle groaned. “Ryley, don’t be such a buzzkill. You barely drank at the pregame. Come on. Loosen up. Show Josh what he missed out on by not inviting us.”

  “I am loose. I just don’t want that right now.”

  “What, like you’ll want it in five minutes?” Kyle loudly scoffed.

  “Yes, if I have to keep putting up with you,” Ryley muttered.

  Kyle didn’t ask her to speak up and instead said, “Come on, live a little. Break a couple of rules. Lose the stick-in-the-mud image.” Kyle always had a loud speaking voice, and it seemed alcohol only exacerbated her volume. Some of their neighbors were turning to look at them. Ryley clenched her fists and prepared to “accidentally” knock the flask down as she grabbed for it.

  Before she could take a course of action that she would have very obviously regretted, Josh piped up. “Kyle, come on. Leave it.”

  Kyle turned to look at Josh, her voice still unnaturally loud and her eyes slightly unfocused. “Oh, playing knight in shining armor for Ryley here? Found your newest girl to woo?”

  Josh exclaimed, “No! No, definitely not.”

  Ryley tried to calm herself even as she felt her head beginning to pound. She would rather not have been so clearly shown how offensive he found the idea of being into her. He was nice to everyone and unthreatening, even if he tried to play at being a JockTM. She wanted to leave. Kyle in a rather rapid, startling about-face, then parried with, “What are you trying to say? Ryley’s not good enough for you?” Kyle started to lightly sway from side to side as she spoke, seeming unable to find her grounding.

  Josh sputtered, “What? Of course she’s good enough for me, but I don’t think about her like that.”

  Ryley looked down upon hearing the casual finality in his tone. She’d never been attracted to him beyond thinking he was good on paper, but being good on paper counted for a whole lot at this
moment in time, so she found herself hurt now. Especially given that he’d thrown himself at Kyle god knows how many times. Kyle had, perhaps, wanted to put them into stark relief on purpose. Indeed, she’d calmed down now that her point was made, no longer swaying, her eyes focused, as Ryley watched her type out a surprisingly coherent message to her dad.

  Josh shot Ryley a semi-apologetic look in the face of her continuing silence, which she did not like. Really did not like. She craned her head to see who else was in the bleachers and saw her de facto friend group two bleacher stands over. Her fade-out was supposed to be gradual and/or non-existent depending on how things went with the softball girls, and one of her old friends had just invited her to see Twilight. She jumped up out of her seat without another word and walked over to the hot dog stand, a stand close to her friends but with a line lengthy enough that it would buy her some time to calm down before she talked to them. She would take them up on their Twilight offer.

  As she stood there, she realized it was truly moronic to have joined this particular line. The smell roiled her stomach; she was vegetarian. She could’ve thought this out better. But she couldn’t very well step out of the line in case Kyle and Josh were looking at her—though they probably weren’t.

  Before she could take any definitive action, Harrison walked up to her. “Ryley, hey. How’s it going? Mom said you were nervous about tonight.”

  “It’s going great.” Her words did not sound convincing. She didn’t want to talk to him and looked down at her phone.

  “What happened?” he asked in a tone that demanded honesty.

  “Nothing. It was dumb. Just two people making a scene. A guy said he was not into me very loudly because a girl was goading him.”

  “Oh. Don’t sweat it, Ryley. You’re just looking at the wrong people. They don’t understand you.” He pulled her out of line, knowing she couldn’t possibly want a hot dog, and dragged her along until they stood outside the Indian tent. He must have led her here because he automatically felt safer as well. “Maybe hang out with people who are more your speed? Who are happy talking about school, video games, and things like that? That’s what I did.”