Solstice

by Lorence Alison

  I felt myself leaning a little closer. It seemed like he was leaning closer to me, too. My heart thumped wildly. I hadn’t wanted to read too much into it at the time, but after our calculus final, when I came out the school’s front doors, Hayden was … there. Waiting, it seemed … for me. He’d fallen into step beside me, chattering about the questions, asking how I thought I’d done, asking what classes I was taking next year.

  I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. Hayden was just being friendly. I didn’t have a lot of experience with guys—it had always been drilled into my head that I could concentrate on guys later … that now was for school and working hard and getting somewhere. So I didn’t know the cues.

  “So,” Hayden said now, propping his elbow on the stand. Behind him, I noticed that Ms. One Egg White had twisted around and was looking at Hayden with interest. I felt a little zing of satisfaction. “You going to Quinn’s party tonight?”

  “Uh…” I’d been invited to Quinn Carey’s party—all of the Huntley juniors had. It was supposed to be epic: She had a huge swimming pool, a local band was coming to play, and I’m sure there’d be booze. It would be a mini Solstice Festival, actually—without the ten-thousand-dollar price tag.

  I was about to tell him sure when I heard a voice behind me. “What party?”

  My mother burst out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her jeans. A brown takeout bag with a handwritten receipt stapled to the front dangled from her left hand. “A party?” she repeated, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Just this … end-of-school thing,” I said meekly, wanting to melt into the checkerboard floor. “I won’t be out late.”

  My mother set her mouth in a line. “You’re meeting with Michael at the law firm in the morning, so that’s probably not a good idea.” Then she looked at Hayden, a businesslike smile on her face. “Are you picking up for Collins?”

  Hayden nodded. She thrust the bag at him and punched the total into the register. A couple stepped through the front door just then, waiting to be served. My mother shot me a warning look, then scrambled off to seat them. This meant I’d have a few seconds with Hayden to myself, but I could tell that was exactly what my mom didn’t want.

  I could feel him looking at me curiously. “Michael at the law firm?” he asked. “You suing someone?”

  “No!” I cried, aghast, though I knew he was kidding. “I have this summer internship,” I muttered glumly. “Of all the annoying things, the guy I’m working with wants to train me on a Sunday.”

  “That sucks.” Hayden sounded genuinely disappointed. “But that’s impressive. An internship at a law firm will look way better on a college application than my boring lifeguarding.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather lifeguard,” I said under my breath, nudging the register closed with my elbow. “Actually, what I’d really want to do is…” I trailed off, then shrugged.

  “Is what?” Hayden goaded me.

  His eyes were on me, which gave me a little jolt just below my belly button. “Forget it,” I muttered. I felt silly telling him about the internship I’d seen posted on CNN.com. It was something I’d desperately wanted to apply for. My advisor at the student newspaper, Mr. Richards, said I should. The ad probably wasn’t even up anymore, though. I’m sure they’d filled the position.

  “Adrianna?”

  My mother stood at the far end of the aisle, hands on her hips. The people who’d just arrived were ready to order, so I had to do my job. My mother’s eyes flicked from Hayden to me, then back again.

  I sighed, then gave Hayden a weary smile. “Back to work, I guess.”

  “Good luck,” Hayden said, eyeing up my mother like perhaps he understood her type. “And I’m sorry you aren’t coming tonight. Seriously.”

  “Me too.” Abruptly, ridiculously, I felt like I might cry. God, Adrianna, do not cry.

  Suddenly Hayden pulled out his cell phone and started tapping. My spirits sank—maybe I wasn’t interesting anymore—but then I felt a buzz in my pocket, my own phone telling me I had an alert. Hayden gave me a cryptic wave before grabbing his takeout and turning for the door. I pulled my phone out and saw that someone named HHTK had followed my Instagram and sent me a DM. When I clicked on the profile picture, Hayden’s own face stared back at me. I widened my eyes in surprise. Then I looked at the DM.

  It was great to see you. Here’s my cell.

  My heart flipped. I wanted to text him with a dozen heart emojis right that second.

  “Ahem.”

  When I looked up, I could feel my mother’s steely, judging gaze. I tucked my phone back into my jeans pocket, trying to temper my glee. As she and I passed each other in the narrow aisle that separated the line of booths, I expected she’d be frosty, standoffish, maybe even angry, but instead she suddenly grabbed me in a strong, crushing hug.

  I let out a bleat of surprise. My mother patted my back. She rested her head on my shoulder for a millisecond. Make no mistake—this wasn’t a hug that said, It’s okay. You can have a boyfriend. It was more like, I know I’m hard on you, baby. I know I suck the fun out of things sometimes. But it’s because we love you.

  And what can I say? I loved her, too.

  From the Solstice website:

  Welcome, friends, explorers, pirates, and party people! This is the official site of the SOLSTICE MUSIC FESTIVAL taking place on the beautiful Caribbean Myla Island on June 19–21! Yes, we know those dates have popped up quick and you might have to rearrange your schedule, but we have a good thing going down here, so let’s make this HAPPEN!

  If you are coming, please peruse the website for which items to bring and what you can leave to us. (Bring: bug spray, medications, chill vibes only. Leave to us: a decadent experience that challenges the borders of the impossible!) Please note: All travel arrangements must be made through private carriers. Also, you MUST fly to MYLA ISLAND AIRPORT. Those who fly to Myla will be brought to the Solstice Festival by private limousine. Your chariot awaits!

  Check out our official Twitter account: @SolsticeFestZa

  Comments:

  @JaredJ1920: Wow. By limo? Nice! Takes some of the sting out of the ridic price tag!

  @DiamondsZ20: I’d much prefer a Range Rover.

  @MoniMone: Are those girls in the YouTube ad going to be there? PLEASE SAY YES!

  @_jbird43: Heard a rumor that Blink-182 is going to play a pop-up concert? Need deets!

  @redflagatnight: I heard tix are already sold out. Scalpers selling at double the price. Still interested!

  @BLankin: Dude, that island is infested with sea monsters! Abort abort abort!

  @ruskybex99: @BLankin stop being a troll! Sea monsters? What you smoking?

  @UlrichGreen1: @BLankin Uh do you realize how amazing a sea monster selfie would be? Think positive!

  2

  “AND HERE’S THE COPY MACHINE,” Michael Graham, the associate training me at Richards, Canopy, and Cairl said as he led me into a small room off the main office. The copy room was littered with papers and smelled pleasantly of warm ink. “To make a copy, you lift this lid, put the paper in here, and press this big red button.”

  No way! I almost wanted to gasp in mock surprise. I had no idea a copy machine could do such a thing! The knee-jerk part of me wondered if Michael was treating me like a kindergartner because he knew my parents owned a diner—and perhaps figured I’d never been in an office in my life. I guess he forgot the part of my résumé that said I was the school’s office assistant for the last three years running. I could probably out–Microsoft Excel him any day of the week.

  Michael showed me the desk that would be mine for the next three months. It was a plain cubicle, separated from the other desks by three low, beige walls that had a weird, fuzzy quality to them. The flat-screen monitor showed a screen saver bearing the company’s logo. The keyboard was covered in one of those plastic protectors that always reminded me of the couch at my abuela’s house. There was a tiny cactus plant in a ceramic pot next to the phone. I wond
ered who had put it there. The last intern, maybe? I wondered why they’d left. I wondered if they’d liked it here or felt as trapped as I already did.

  “You’re right next to my office,” Michael went on. He was a slender guy about thirty-five with an eager face and thick, sandy hair that fell boyishly across his forehead. He wore clunky, square glasses and had a few tiny acne scars on his cheeks. “Which is great, because I’ll need you to transcribe a lot of my depositions. It’ll give you a good sense of how to interview people once you’re a lawyer yourself.”

  He exchanged an excited glance with me that seemed to indicate we were part of the same club, like we’d just figured out we were both huge fans of the same superhero franchise. Then again, in the letter I’d written when applying for this job, I’d gushed about how I’d known I wanted to be a lawyer since I was three years old. Which was absolute BS. What kid wanted to be a lawyer at three?

  Ping. I glanced down at my phone. I’d set up a Google Alert about the breaking news that this housing developer, Morris-Evens Homes LLC, was going to raze an entire neighborhood of Atlanta—a cool, cultural, historical neighborhood—so they could build more McMansions. Today’s scheduled protest got about 300 percent more people than they’d expected. Whoa. That was huge.

  “You need to get that?” Michael asked, eyeing my screen, his tone suddenly testy.

  “What? No.” I dropped the phone into my bag. But immediately it started pinging again. More updates about the protest. God, I wished I was canvassing the crowd for quotes and reports. This was just the kind of story that interested me and that—I hoped, someday—I’d get to work on. But obviously there was no way I could be there.

  “Probably best if you turned that off,” Michael said, making a little face.

  “Oh my gosh, of course.” I held down the OFF switch, heat rising into my cheeks. It wasn’t like me to be reprimanded. I needed to focus.

  Michael went through the various computer programs I would be using—the Microsoft Outlook calendar, Word—and sometimes I’d have to transcribe depositions. He talked about the case he was working on—some boring thing about an insurance claims adjuster who’d run a scam on a bunch of buildings around Brookhaven. “Turns out, all of the buildings that had policies with him filed for insurance payouts at one point or another,” Michael said. “We’d never seen so many pipes burst or houses randomly explode or sewer lines fail. It was like the buildings were doomed … until we realized the disasters were rigged—by the insurance guy.” He eyed me, a way-too-excited smile on his face. “This guy got a big percentage for every claim paid out. The bigger the disaster, the bigger the payout for him.” He leaned back on the edge of my desk, proud of his detective work. “He’s going down.”

  I made careful notes to show that I was being the best intern I could, but the details were sifting through me like sand. This insurance guy was a criminal, but this case wasn’t going to improve anyone’s lives—it was just going to make the insurance company richer. How could Michael get jazzed about that?

  My eyes drifted to the clock at the bottom right-hand side of the computer screen. I had to find a way to make this job more interesting. I had to find a way to shine for Michael, too—his wife was the one who worked in Emory admissions, and that was my whole point of being here.

  A million years later, we finally wrapped up. When I turned my phone back on and checked the news, it seemed that the protest had ended. I packed up my purse, and Michael walked me outside. The air felt stale and heavy. Sweat immediately prickled on the small of my back, making my blouse stick to my skin.

  “Thank you for coming in on a Sunday,” Michael said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” I chirped.

  The late-afternoon sun baked the top of my head as I walked to the parking garage. A whole day had passed, and I’d been stuck in a cubicle. We’d barely even stopped for lunch. My phone buzzed in my purse. I was elated to see Hayden’s name at the top.

  How’s office life?

  I leaned against the side of a bus stop kiosk. Boring. Absolutely nothing to report. And that’s saying a lot, considering I want to be a reporter.

  He texted back: Nothing to report at the pool, either. Well, except someone puked in the shallow end, and we had to shut the facility down for 45 minutes.

  I snorted. That’s big news!

  Not if you were the one who had to clean it up, it isn’t.

  I couldn’t believe I was texting with Hayden. I’d taken a risk yesterday—before the party that I wasn’t going to, I’d texted him a jokey: Hey, someone DM’d me using your Insta, tossing out your cell number—think your identity’s been hacked!

  That’s right, he’d written back, this isn’t even Hayden. It’s a scammer overseas. And now I’ve got your personal information, too!

  If it were up to Elena Sykes, my very best friend in the world, she’d tell me that I had to wait at least three days after a boy gave me his number to call him … but Hayden had seemed overjoyed that I’d reached out so quickly. Suck it, dating rules.

  After that, he and I had texted and Snapchatted for almost an hour—I’d even made him late to Quinn’s party. We talked about silly things, mostly—like how when I was really little, my older sister Maria and I used to dress up in wigs and sparkly dresses, pretending like we were the Latina Destiny’s Child. Or stories about Maria’s failed attempts to find a career, first going to school for dog grooming, then deciding she wanted to be a potter, then almost filling out a form to get a certificate in organic farming until my father found out and put a stop to it. Maria still lives in her old bedroom in our house, I’d written. Which is probably why my parents put all their faith in me.

  Yeah, let’s stop talking about Maria, Hayden had written back. I’d rather hear about you.

  By the thrill I’d gotten, you’d have thought he’d said he loved me.

  Hayden told me his single mom was a nurse and worked just as hard as my parents did to send him to Huntley. His older brother had enlisted in the navy after high school, which would give him a free ride to college. Hayden had thought about following that path, too—especially since he wanted to go into engineering, for which there were a lot of opportunities in the military—but he wasn’t sure he could endure boot camp.

  I’d never really bonded with a boy before. I’d had a few brief boyfriends—hidden, of course, from my parents—but those had mostly been surface flings. Talking to Hayden didn’t feel any different from talking to Elena. I liked that our trajectories were the same. I liked that we were square pegs in a round hole in the privileged, easy-life sea that made up most of our high school class. For example, Hayden was lifeguarding not so he could work on his tan, but because he legitimately needed the money. We understood where each other was coming from in a way a lot of people around me didn’t, and that felt like an instant bond. I just wish I’d gotten to know him sooner.

  An added bonus: He was so cute. Whenever I saw those little bubbles appear on his end, indicating he was typing, I pictured his handsome face bent toward the screen, his lips pursed just so, his long, slender fingers tapping … and I got tingles all over.

  Now, I was about to write back to Hayden when another alert came in. It was Elena, sending me a Snap. I opened the message and saw a picture of Elena with the koala filter—she had a cute round nose where her sloped one should have been and a pair of fuzzy gray ears on top of her head.

  How’s the internship? read big, round letters beneath her chin.

  Meh, I answered back. But it’s over for today.

  A new Snap came in. Maybe I should get a job there, too, she wrote. Then we could spend the whole summer together.

  I wrinkled my nose, trying not to feel exasperated. But I loved how Elena, who’d never had to work for anything in her life, simply thought she could just call up the law firm and score an internship—and that it’d be fun.

  The office definitely isn’t for you, I wrote back. Do something cool this summer like worki
ng at your cousin’s boutique on Peachtree.

  A half minute went by with no new Snaps, but then Elena sent one that read: Can you come over right now? I have something to tell you.

  Everything okay? I asked. It’s not about Steve again, is it? Steve was Elena’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. He was a college student and rubbed me the wrong way. Long, long story. Elena swore that the last breakup with him was for good, though. I hoped she’d finally learned her lesson.

  Nope, Elena wrote back. I have a surprise!

  I was at my car by then. I checked my watch. I probably had time to pop over to Elena’s before my mother sent out a search party. It wasn’t like we had a big Sunday dinner at the Sanchez house—usually, my parents were too busy finishing up at the diner to throw together much more than leftovers. A surprise seemed perfect right about now.

  * * *

  I always felt a little breathless and out of place when I pulled up to Elena’s dad’s house in Buckhead. The place looked like a fancy wedding cake: white facade, white columns, a fountain in the center of the circular drive. I didn’t know what a weed would do if it found itself in her front yard—probably slink away in shame. There were Juliet balconies on the second floor and a long series of double doors along the side that opened into a massive outdoor kitchen, seating area, and pool. And though Elena’s father lived only a block from a major road, the property had a hushed feeling, as if it had an invisible barrier around it, stopping the noise.

  I pressed the buzzer at the gate, feeling the usual mild embarrassment about coming here in my rattling old Toyota, which had primer spots all over it and sometimes sputtered to an agonizing slow speed on the highway. Elena’s picture popped up on the video screen, and she squealed when she saw me. She buzzed the gate open, and by the time I pulled up to the house, she was bouncing out the door. “You are not going to believe it you are not going to believe it you are not going to believe it!” she shrieked as I stepped out of the car.