My whole body burned.
“Shut up, Grant! Of course I’ve kissed someone, and even if I hadn’t, you can bet I’d never chicken out on it!”
“Fuck you, Codi!”
“HEY!” JaKory said, his voice booming. “Stop talking, all of you. Just stop.”
A loaded, searing silence swept through the car. I faced the windshield without seeing it, my insides burning. I was angry, I was hurt, and I was embarrassed, but more than anything, I hated myself and the limited world I’d been living in.
“You should put your seat belt on, Grant,” JaKory huffed.
Grant didn’t move. I wanted nothing more to do with him, but the big sister in me couldn’t let it go.
“Grant,” I said, my voice hard. “Seat belt.”
Still, Grant didn’t move.
“What is wrong with you?” I said, whipping around to look at him again. “Put your seat belt on! Now!”
The way Grant looked at me then—murderous and resentful—confirmed we were strangers like never before. That my little brother had grown into a popular, self-possessed, too-cool-for-you Teenager who didn’t need his dorky older sister for anything. He buckled his seat belt in one swift, angry motion, then dropped his forehead against the window and didn’t speak again. When Maritza pulled into our driveway a few minutes later, he raced out of the car without bothering to shut the door.
My friends and I sat with the car still running, the music still playing. I didn’t have anything to say, especially not to Maritza.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, getting out of the car. I didn’t bother to invite them in.
* * *
My brother’s room was the first off the upstairs landing. I stood in front of his door for a long minute, feeling the vibrations from his loud, blaring music. The hand-painted sign from my grandparents was still affixed to his door: a small wooden rectangle with footballs, trains, and Grant’s Room written in swirly, child-friendly lettering.
I did something I’d never done before and held up my middle finger to his door.
Alone in my bedroom, I looked around and took stock of my world. Maritza’s NASA sweatshirt that I’d stolen a month ago and kept forgetting to give back. A battered copy of a Doctor Who novel JaKory kept bugging me to read. Selfies of the three of us in my basement, in the school courtyard, in the Taco Bell drive-through.
No sign of a life any bigger than this. No wilted bouquets from the prom, no blurry photos from late nights I couldn’t remember, no movie ticket stubs from a date with a pretty girl. The burning embarrassment I’d felt in the car was gone, but now there was a furtive pit of shame in my stomach, threatening every idea I had about myself.
My brother was becoming a real Teenager. He’d met up with a girl at the movies tonight, had probably paid for her ticket and bought her candy from the concession stand and held her hand in the dark space of the theater, and after the movie he’d spun her away from his sea of friends and come so, so close to kissing her, and I had watched from my spot in my best friend’s car, fresh off an evening of playing with kids’ toys at the pharmacy.
How had I gotten to be seventeen years old without anything happening? Surely my dad had enjoyed his share of wild adventures by the time he was my age. And surely Mom had kissed a few boys by the time she was crowned homecoming queen. They always talked about high school with that wistful tone in their voices, with that mischievous gleam in their eyes. What had their high school summers been like? What had they gotten up to on those late nights, in those fast cars? And what had their friends been like? Were they anything like mine?
Maritza and JaKory. They’d always been the center of my life, but suddenly my life felt so small. How much of that had to do with them, and how much of it had to do with me?
3
I woke early the next morning. It was raining again, and for a while I lay there listening to it, letting the feelings from last night wash over me. My parents had come home late from their gala, speaking in low rumbles, their dress shoes clacking on the kitchen floor. I’d pretended to be asleep when my mom had poked her head into my room.
When I finally came downstairs, the rain had let up and the sun was reaching through the windows, pearly white and timid as it stretched across our family room. Grant was in the kitchen, eating Froot Loops. He made a show of clanging his spoon around the bowl and keeping his eyes on the kitchen TV. I ignored him and poured my own bowl of cereal, but when I opened the fridge, something was missing.
“Are we out of milk?”
Grant said nothing, but when I looked at his bowl, I saw he’d poured way more milk than he needed. His Froot Loops were practically drowning in it. The empty milk gallon was on the stool next to him. I shoved the refrigerator door closed and grabbed a banana instead.
JaKory called around noon, asking if I wanted to get coffee.
“Is this because you wanna talk about last night?” I asked.
JaKory sighed, long and pained. “Don’t you?”
The small pit of shame still hummed in my stomach. “Maybe,” I admitted.
“The sun’s out,” he said enticingly. “You could do some painting.”
I laughed. He knew how to hook me. “I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
The Chattahoochee River was the most underrated thing about Atlanta. It wound through the northwest side of the city’s perimeter, long and sprawling and glistening. No one really talked about it, but we drove past it all the time, even when crossing the interstate. It was like an open secret, something we forgot was there.
Our favorite coffee shop was right on the banks of the Chattahoochee, in a quiet little haven nestled behind the highway. The shop itself was in a huge, multistory cabin, and the grounds stretched out along the river, carefully landscaped with close-cropped grass that extended to the nettle-strewn tree line. You could walk along the river rocks or sit in one of the Adirondack chairs overlooking the water, listening to the steady rush of the river sweeping past. Usually, when my friends and I came here, we’d take our backpacks and stay for hours. Maritza would spread a blanket and practice yoga, JaKory would sit at a picnic table and lose himself in a book, and I’d sit across from him, painting the brightest colors I could find.
Our usual table was still damp from the rain. I brushed off my side without caring too much while JaKory methodically dabbed every part of his bench with a napkin. By the time he was finished, I had already dug my sketchbook and watercolors out of my bag. There was a patch of vibrant marigolds by the water that I was excited to paint.
We were quiet at first, but it wasn’t strained—more like a gentle blanket. I could sense we were about to have a heart-to-heart. JaKory and I were good at those. We may have tried to save face with Maritza sometimes, but with each other, we always said exactly what we were feeling.
“Did you feel horrible yesterday, too?” JaKory asked.
I looked up from the colors I was mixing. “The worst I’ve felt in a long time.”
JaKory was silent. Then he screwed up his mouth and said, “I went home and wrote a poem about it.”
I smiled wryly. “’Course you did.”
“There was one line I really liked. ‘My youth is infinite but my fears are intimate.’”
I mixed my orange and yellow paints. Such bursts of color, such vibrant promises, like the infinite youth JaKory spoke of. And yet those intimate fears loomed larger.
“I’m scared, too,” I admitted. “Scared of … I don’t even know what.”
“I’m so pissed at myself,” JaKory whispered. “I always knew I was different … black, nerdy, queer … but that’s not why I’m missing out. It’s because I’m standing in my own way. I know it.”
I wilted. JaKory was speaking the same truth I felt in my bones. Did Maritza feel that way, too? Were all three of us stuck in a co-dependent friendship because it was easier than facing our individual inertia?
“What are we supposed to do?” I asked quietly.
JaKory held my eyes. “Maritza has a plan. She’s on her way to meet us so we can talk about it.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘a plan’? I thought this was just you and me hanging out. You know I don’t feel like talking to her after how she acted last night. Didn’t you hear what she said to me? He definitely doesn’t need your help.”
“She didn’t mean it.”
“You know she did.”
“We’re family, Codi. Families fight and make up.”
“So you invited her without telling me?”
He looked past me. “Here she comes. Just listen and keep an open mind, okay?”
I spun around, caught off guard by this whole setup. Why was JaKory prepping me for a hangout with Maritza? Why did I feel like I was being ambushed?
Maritza approached cautiously, watching the ground like she might trip any second, even though she was the most graceful of the three of us. She sat next to JaKory and placed a large croissant on the table like a peace offering.
“How’s it going?” she asked, looking directly at me.
“Fine,” I said, not meeting her eyes. JaKory eyed the croissant, but I ignored it and went back to my painting.
“How was the dance camp meeting?” JaKory asked, clearly trying to break the tension.
Maritza was on our school’s varsity dance team, and this summer she would be working as an assistant teacher at the middle school dance camp. It was a highly selective position that only a handful of dancers had been chosen for, and Maritza was elated, especially because it would help with her application to Georgia Tech in the fall. The only downside was that it was a full-summer commitment, which meant she’d be missing her family’s annual Panama trip for the first time ever.
“Fine.” Maritza shrugged. Her eyes darkened. “Except Vivien Chen was being a snotty bitch again.”
Vivien Chen was Maritza’s sworn enemy. She was in our class at Buchanan High School and was one of the smartest, most accomplished people around. Unfortunately, she had a knack for high performance in the same exact things as Maritza: science and dance. This past year, Maritza and Vivien had been in the same honors physics class and had competed for the position of dance team captain. And while Maritza had earned the better grades in physics, Vivien had ultimately won out as dance team captain. Maritza had taken it pretty hard; on the day their coach had announced it, back in April, she’d cried for two hours in my car.
“JaKory said you have a plan,” I said pointedly, glaring at her. “I’d rather hear about that than Vivien Chen.”
Maritza stared at me for a beat. Then her words tumbled out, loud and fast as ever. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have made that dig at you, Codi. I was just—I was caught off guard. I never imagined in a million years that your little brother would go on a date before I would. Before any of us would.”
The only sound was the rushing of the river. I stared at my watercolors, trying to make sense of my emotions.
“Codi-kid,” Maritza said, using the old nickname. She nudged the croissant toward me. “I’m sorry, okay? It was a dick thing to say. I was just feeling shitty about myself, and … well, I think we were all feeling shitty.”
She tore the croissant and held out a piece to me. I was still annoyed, but my urge to hear her plan outweighed it. I met her eyes and took the piece she offered.
“Ha,” she said, grinning. “Softening y’all with food always works.”
“Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes and dipping my piece into her fresh coffee. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or what?”
She tapped her fingertips together, giddy. “Okay, so … you know that girl Rona, on my team?”
“The one who used to sit in Ben Reed’s lap while Mr. Clanton ‘rested his eyelids’ during health class?” I asked. “Yeah.”
“She was talking to me at the meeting just now, and she mentioned this party she’s going to tonight. This guy Ricky Flint, he just graduated, is having it at his house. Rona said anyone could come. And guess where he lives?”
A sense of apprehension trickled over me. “Where?”
“In your neighborhood, Codi.” She said it like a punch line, her eyes bright and fiery. Next to her, JaKory nodded triumphantly. It was obvious she’d already told him this part.
I knew where they were going with this, but it wasn’t something I wanted to hear. We were falling into a conversation I wasn’t ready for.
“And … you think we should avoid driving that way in case they accidentally set the house on fire?” I said.
“Ha, ha,” Maritza said, rolling her eyes. “But for real, wanna go?”
They looked at me expectantly. JaKory nodded very slightly, like he was trying to encourage me.
“Not really,” I said quietly.
“But think about it!” Maritza insisted. She moved to straddle the bench so she was facing me directly. “It’s so close, we could walk there. That way we could drink!”
“Drink?” I repeated, feeling dazed. “Since when do we drink?”
“Since today, because I want to try something new. We’ll drink, and we’ll meet new people, and maybe—maybe—there will be a cute girl or guy that we can talk to, and flirt with, and kiss—I mean, isn’t that what you want?”
I looked to JaKory for help, but he avoided my gaze.
“We can’t just go to some random guy’s party,” I said.
“Why can’t we?”
I struggled to articulate what I was feeling. “We—we don’t—I mean, what are we gonna do, just waltz in there and act like we were invited? We won’t know anyone. We’ve never even been to a party before.”
Maritza leaned forward, an urgent energy about her. “Listen to me,” she said. “Last night we picked up your little brother from a date, something none of us have ever experienced, and we watched him almost kiss a girl for the first time, something I’ve been wanting to do for ages. Didn’t that feel as shitty for you as it did for me? I’m tired of feeling like I’m missing out. We keep hanging out just the three of us, doing the same shit we always do, watching bad movies we’ve already seen…” She clasped her hands in front of her and steeled herself. “We need to try something different, meet people who are different. It’s like Einstein said: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result.”
I looked between them. “This isn’t an experiment, you guys,” I said, trying to slow them down, to make them see reason. “We can’t just throw stuff at the wall and hope it sticks. We need to think this through, figure out how to make ourselves ready—”
“Our entire adolescence is an experiment,” Maritza cut in. “And it’s time to try something new. Now. Today.”
I sat in silence, a wave of panic crashing over me.
“She’s right, Codi,” JaKory said quietly. “We’re obviously not happy with how things are going, so we need to make a change.”
I looked at Maritza. “Why did you tell JaKory the plan first? Why didn’t you tell us together?”
They exchanged brief, meaningful looks that made my stomach turn.
“What?” I asked.
“Well—it’s just—don’t take this the wrong way, but I knew you’d be the harder one to convince. You’re more … you know…”
“What?” I asked sharply.
“Complacent,” JaKory said, wincing.
“I’m not complacent!” I yelled. “Not any more than you, anyway!”
JaKory’s eyes sizzled. “Yeah, well, I’m done being complacent. I’m done being afraid.”
Maritza’s words had obviously gotten to him. She had drawn a line in the sand, marking herself as brave, daring, and adventurous on one side, and marking me as cowardly, weak, and stagnant on the other. JaKory was aligning himself with the side he wanted to be known for.
“I’m sorry,” Maritza said, without sounding like it. “It just feels like I have to push you more. You’re so content to fl
ap around in your comfort zone.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” I said, my voice rising.
“Then stop acting like that,” she countered, her voice matching mine.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re small. Like you’re afraid of everything.”
“I’m not afraid—”
“I think you are. You’ve always been afraid to put yourself out there, even when you want something badly. Can’t you see you deserve bigger things, Codi?”
My chest was heaving; my cheeks were burning. Never before had Maritza attacked me like this, going straight for my weak points like my brother did. I glowered at her, and she glowered back, and there was something more than anger in her eyes. It took me a beat to recognize it, but when I did, my stomach plummeted.
It was worse than anger, worse than pity: There was something in Maritza that was ashamed to be my friend.
All the breath seemed to go out of me. Just when I’d started to worry that I was outgrowing my best friends, they had rushed to the same conclusion about outgrowing me. They were ready to leave me in the dust and set off on their new adventure together. I stared at the two of them like I’d never seen them before. In a way, I felt like I’d never truly seen myself before.
“Well?” Maritza said after a heavy pause. “Are we gonna go tonight?”
There was silence for a long, hanging moment. I watched the rushing river. The moment stretched on.
“No,” I said. “If this is really how you guys think of me, then I don’t want any part of your stupid plan. Y’all have fun.”
As I stood up, I caught them looking away from each other. An impenetrable wall seemed to solidify in my chest, and suddenly I was desperate to get away from them.
* * *
I stayed in my room that night, playing music and sketching for hours. It was comforting and familiar, but several times I found myself staring at my sketchbook without seeing it, lost in visions of Maritza and JaKory at that party. They were somewhere here, in my neighborhood, but not to hang out with me. That had never happened before.
Late to the Party Page 3