Aspen (8 page)

“You could do this, by the way.” Cass nudges me in the side. “Capturing people is, like, totally your artist thing.”

I elbow him back but don’t respond. My energy level for a discussion about my future, which I’ve already decided is too unexpected to worry about, is practically dragging on the ground.

“I like tearing the aliens’ heads off,” Cass says.

“How do you do that?” I squint at the screen, still mesmerized by how real everything looks.

“You press Y, X, A, B on the controller.”

“That sounds like a secret code.”

“It is,” Cass smiles. “You know you got one if they bleed green.”

“I didn’t know that about aliens.”

“That’s because Dex Mayhem is out killing them all, so you don’t have to.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” I ask.

“Wrong about what?”

“What if the person isn’t an alien?”

“They bleed red.” Cass points to a small puddle of red on the screen. It’s getting bigger as we speak.

“So you can kill a human?” I whisper, my eyes focused on the blood. I can’t look away.

“Of course. You can always kill a human, but it’s an accident. You would never mean to do it. You lose, like, a thousand points. It sucks.”

Red pops out on the screen, practically hitting me in the face. The glass on the TV holds my reflection in the color. Why does blood have to be that way?

When I feel like I might throw up, I turn away from the screen. “I think I need a drink,” I say to Kim.

“I think Cass needs a life.”

“Bring me back a Mountain Dew?” he asks.

I nod, the nausea receding the second Kim and I walk out of the store. People are starting to swarm the mall, bags linked over their arms. As we head over to the food court, we dodge through them like balls in a pinball game, trying to avoid getting hit by a rogue purse or shopping bag. We’re about to make it to the food court when I see a few familiar faces in the crowd. Suzy Lions and Claire Diaz are walking straight for Kim and me.

Suzy smiles an oversized grin. Her mouth takes up the entire lower half of her face, which looks kind of weird on such a small body. No wonder she’s loud when she cheerleads.

“Hi,” she says in a bubbly voice, waving. Kim looks at me sideways, but I ignore her. “We were just talking about you.”

“You were?”

Suzy digs into her shopping bag. “Totally. Check it out.” She pulls out a tie-dye shirt and holds it up to her slight body. “I just bought it at Forever 21.”

Kim glares at it. “Holy shit.”

“I know. It’s awesome. Aspen totally inspired me.” Suzy smiles.

“She did?” Kim says in a flat tone. I nudge her in the side.

“I’m sure it’ll look great.” I yank on Kim’s arm, pulling her away from this awkward encounter, but Suzy stops us before we can make a getaway.

“I’m having a party tonight. You should come.”

Kim and I stop still, both of us frozen, gaping at the two most popular girls in our grade.

“Yeah, you should come,” Claire repeats less enthusiastically, her face flat, like she has to force the words out.

“Why?” I say.

“Because it’s a party and it’ll be fun,” Suzy says. “Please.” She holds out the
e
for a while, making her sound like a five-year-old.

“You want us to come to your party?”

“Yes, silly.”

I look at Kim, trying to plead with my eyes for some reason not to go. Talking to Suzy in physics made me uncomfortable enough. The prospect of walking through her house, talking to her friends and drinking her alcohol makes my stomach hurt again.

Once Kim shrugs like she isn’t totally against the idea, I’m stuck. I can’t say no. It’ll make me suspect. Why wouldn’t I want to go to Suzy’s party, with booze and boys and bad decisions? It’s the teenage trifecta of awesome.

“Sure,” I squeak out.

Suzy claps and jumps up and down, excited. “We’ll see you tonight then.” She stuffs her tie-dye shirt back in the bag before she and Claire take off down the mall. Before they turn into Anthropologie, Suzy turns around and yells, “Just leave your boyfriend, Isaac, at home!” and winks at me.

Kim and I don’t move. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her jaw has fallen slack. “What the fuck just happened?” she asks.

“We agreed to go to a party at Suzy’s house.”

“I know that.” She hits my arm. “I mean, why were we invited?”

“Because we’re cool?”

“There are two kinds of cool: people who are obviously cool, and people who are secretly cool because they know it’s totally lame to actually say you’re cool. Suzy is the first. We’re the second. The two cools don’t mix.”

“I have a feeling there will be a lot of things mixing at the party.”

“We’re really gonna go?”

I pull in a deep breath. My skin feels tight around me. Malls aren’t natural places; with all the doors that only open inside, it’s like we’re trapped in shopping hell and there’s no way out.

“Why not? It’s our senior year.”

Kim nods at my declaration. “Why not. It’s our fucking senior year.”

Ninny and I stare at each other over pizza as I wait for Kim and Cass to show up. Incense burns in the kitchen, and Ninny has lit candles instead of using the lights, to save energy. Our dinner would look romantic if a Domino’s box weren’t sitting between us.

I pick at the pizza, digging each black olive out of the cheese and eating it individually. Ninny looks at me sideways. In response, I pass my glass of milk over to her.

“Why do I have to drink this?” she says. “You’re not eating anything healthy either, baby.”

“Technically, olives are a fruit.” I smile at her. “And osteoporosis is a real problem in older women.”

“I’m not an older woman,” she says. “And I’m not the one who looks like she spent the day being tumble- dried. You’re practically falling into your pizza. Do I need to tell Mickey to give you more time off?”

“No.” I answer quickly. “It’s just tiring to walk with this cast on.”

Ninny narrows her eyes like she doesn’t believe me. I shove the piece of pizza in my mouth to prove that I’m hungry and eating and not worn out. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Well, your cast comes off next week, and we can be done with all of this.” Ninny smiles, pulling the cheese off her pizza and blotting the tomato sauce clean with a napkin.

We sit for a minute in the dull light of the house. It’s quiet. I stare down at my plate and pull the crust of my pizza into little bite-sized pieces.

“Would you call me a mistake or an accident?” I ask.

“What?” I look up as Ninny sits forward in her seat, putting her pizza down.

“You didn’t mean to have me. So am I a mistake or an accident?”

“What’s the difference?”

“The definition of a mistake is ‘an action or judgment that was misguided or wrong.’ An accident is something unintentional and unexpected,” I say.

“If you’re asking me whether I think it was wrong to have sex in high school, the answer is no. Sex is natural and beautiful. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sloppy on the whole birth control thing. And you were definitely unexpected.” Ninny takes a bite of her bare pizza, eyes squinting in thought. “I guess you’re an accidental mistake, which is not to be confused with a mistaken accident.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I don’t really know. I like leading with the word I like best. Accidental mistake sounds poetic. Like I didn’t mean to do it, but my mistake produced something beautiful.”

“But this beautiful accidental mistake ruined your relationship with your parents. Seems like maybe I’m more of a mistaken accident,” I say.

When I was little and Ninny told me about her trust fund, she said her dad left her a note on the day her parents moved away from Boulder. The note said something like, “Our high school daughter left on a trip to Winter Park and a stranger came back. We donate to poor strangers, but we don’t live with them.” Even thinking about reading something like that makes my heart hurt.

“Aspen, baby, I
made
an accidental mistake.
You
are not that. You are a human being with a soul. Not a grouping of words.”

I nod. Ninny takes another sip of my milk.

“Tell me about school,” she says, changing the subject.

“It’s a brick building with lots of horny teenagers roaming the halls.”

“Aspen,” Ninny barks. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“People treat me differently,” I say, spinning my plate around on the table.

“Are they bullying you?” Ninny’s back gets straight. “Because I’ll march my ass down to that school and bitch the shit out of that principal.”

“Nice, Mom. You managed to use almost every curse word but ‘fuck’ in that sentence.”

“Fuck,” Ninny says and smiles. “Seriously though, what do you mean differently?”

I stack Ninny’s dirty plate on mine and carry them to the kitchen. She follows behind me with the milk glass and sets it down on the counter. I scrub everything clean, debating whether or not to tell her that Hunter Hunter talks to me every day. He’s upgraded to two-word sentences. “Rad T-shirt.” “Smokin’ Birkenstocks.” “Homework sucks.” And he never came into Shakedown Street before yesterday.

Also, Josephine Cusack asked me how I get my skin to be so clear. People say hi to me all the time and wave and smile. It’s like I’m the most popular person in school, which makes me want to cry.

“Mom,” I whisper as I stack the dishes in the drying rack. “I think I’ve made an accidental mistake. Maybe a mistaken accident.”

“What, baby? I can’t hear you over the faucet.” Ninny turns off the water.

“I think . . . maybe . . . ” A figure moves by the kitchen window. A flash of brown hair. I drop the plate in the sink. The porcelain rattles and Ninny and I jump. “Damn it,” I say, picking up the plate and setting it to dry.

Before Ninny can say anything, Kim and Cass burst through the front door.

“Ninny!” Cass yells, almost tripping on the doormat. “Shit, it’s dark in here.”

“Casanova!” Ninny flicks on the lights and runs from the kitchen to greet my friends. She wraps her arms around Cass, giving him a proper hug. I watch, my nerves still frayed.

I grab the sponge to clean the table, and internally wipe away the words I was going to say a moment ago.

“If you and I went to high school at the same time . . . ” Ninny’s looking Cass up and down.

“Mom!” I yell.

“No, keep going,” Cass smiles.

“I’m ready to get drunk. Let’s blow this joint.” Kim gives Ninny a high-five.

“Don’t bring up blowing a joint around Ninny. You’ll put thoughts in her head.” I wipe the crumbs from the table into my hand and carry them to the sink.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. And yet, a great point,” Ninny says, “So, what are you kids doing tonight?”

“We’re teenagers, not kids,” I correct her.

“Party at some popular girl’s house. Aspen got us invited. It’s like she’s famous or something. I’m hoping for naked chicks.” Cass nabs a slice of pizza from the open box and stuffs it in his mouth.

“Real sensitive, Cass,” Kim says.

“You love me.” He smiles, his mouth full of food.

I glance at Ninny. Her head is cocked to the side, and her eyes look like they’re working overtime to appraise the level of sexual tension between my two best friends. Her mouth cracks open, ready to say something, and her eyes turn sparkly the way they always do before she talks about sex. I cut her off before she can get a word out.

“We’re out of here,” I say, pulling the fringe on Kim’s brown suede jacket. She grabs Cass’ arm.

“Great to see you, Ninny,” he yells.

“Don’t drink and drive,” Ninny offers as we’re walking out the front door.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’re walking. It’s a nice night.”

“Aspen.” Ninny stops me before I shut the door. I poke my head back in. “Did you want to tell me something?”

I pause and take in the innocent look on Ninny’s face. In the house, the candles flicker. “Just that I’m sorry I called you old.”

“Be careful tonight. If anybody does something you don’t like, kick them in the crotch with your cast. That way it’ll be good for something after all.” Ninny smiles, and I can’t help but love her. Even if she’s not the most on-time person in a crisis and screws her boyfriend on the dining room table.

Suzy’s huge white colonial house sits on a hill and has a yard that takes up half the block. Two swings hang from a big tree in her backyard, alongside a bubbling fountain with a statue of a naked boy in the middle. Teenagers gather in the backyard, laughing loudly as a group of guys down shots. I see Tom Ingersol’s sculpted hair from the bottom of the driveway. It makes me nervous. And not the excited, itchy nervous that tells you something wonderful is about to happen. A creepy-crawly nervous.