Goodbye Stranger (11 page)

“Thanks.” Tab stuffed the bag back into her pocket. “And for your information, the Human Rights Club is studying civil disobedience. Like Rosa Parks. The wrappers are just a side project.”

The soccer ball rolled toward them. Tab bent down to grab it, then flung it back onto the field, where a swarm of yellow sweatshirts ran after it.

“Want a peppermint patty?” Tab said.

“Sure.”

Tab handed her two. “We have all this candy left over. I kind of wonder whether Celeste even answered the door last night. I’ve eaten like half a bag already.”

“Your poor teeth,” Bridge said.

“Please. My teeth have bigger problems.”

“Oh yeah. When’s the big day?”

“Not for a while. Don’t talk about it.”

“You brought it up.”

“Four teeth! Who has to get four teeth pulled, just for braces?” Tab held out a hand for Bridge’s candy wrapper.

Bridge’s dentist had told her mom that her mouth was too “immature” for braces. She’d probably have to wear them in high school, when everyone else had already gotten theirs off.

Bridge scanned the yard for Sherm and spotted him at the far end, standing against the fence with a few other kids. She watched him until Tab gave a big “Woot!” and butted her shoulder-to-shoulder. Em had scored a goal.

“Go, Emily!” Bridge shouted to make up for the fact that she’d missed it.

Em threw both arms up in the air, did a graceful U-turn, and started running back to her team.

SHERM

November 3

Dear Nonno Gio,

I hate Halloween now. Nonna gave me some of your navy stuff, but when I put it on, the jacket was huge and I looked like a little kid in grown-up clothes. I said I wasn’t going to the party.

She said I should just go, and if I wasn’t having fun I could leave. I told her I had a nauseous headache. Obviously that was a lie, but Nonna got me a cold washcloth for my neck and asked me if I wanted to lie down. We ended up watching a movie. Nonna left the candy on the stoop for trick-or-treaters.

It’s hard to believe October 31 used to be my favorite day of the year. Remember when you were Tintin and I was your dog, Snowy? I still have that dumb wig you wore.

I probably should have gone to the party. I could have just worn my navy turtleneck with your old hat. The hat almost fits.

Sherm

P.S. Three months and eleven days until your birthday.

P.P.S. I decided to ask Mr. Partridge if I can learn the stage lights.

CHICKEN

“Chicken?” Bridge repeated. She and Em were in homeroom, sitting in the back row. She was thinking at first of the
bird
chicken.

“Yeah,” Em said. “Chicken
.
You know. The whole thing with Patrick?”

“I
don’t
know. What does Patrick have to do with chicken?”

“The game, dummy. Chicken? Like two cars drive directly toward each other until one chickens out and swerves away?”

“That’s a game?”

“So I took that picture of my foot, right? And he sent me his ankle. I sent my leg, and he sent his belly button, blah blah blah.”

“Wait—‘blah blah blah’? What does that mean?”

Em rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “I sent him a picture of my—thigh, I guess? I was wearing shorts and I wrote…something on it.” She cut her eyes back to Bridge. “I didn’t tell you guys. Sorry. I didn’t want to hear Tab’s lecture.”

“You wrote on your leg? Like on your
skin
? What’d you write?”

“Um…” Em leaned in. “I wrote
Make me crazy.
”

“Seriously?”

“I know. Julie Hopper and I were hanging out after practice. It seemed really funny—we actually couldn’t stop laughing.”

“ ‘Make me crazy’?”

“Shhh! It was Julie’s idea, okay? And after that, he sent—this.” She passed Bridge her phone under the table.

Bridge found herself looking at a head-to-toe picture of Patrick standing in his underwear. He had taken the picture in a mirror.

“Is this—real?” It wasn’t as if Bridge hadn’t seen Jamie in his boxers a thousand times. But still, this felt semi-
un
real.

Em nodded slowly, her face bright.

“Whoa,” Bridge said. “When did he send this?”

“On Halloween. A lot of the eighth graders were at Julie’s house watching horror movies.”

“He took this picture at Julie’s house?”

“Yeah. In the bathroom. According to Julie.”

“But now you’re going to stop, right? It’s all…crazy!”

“I can’t stop now!”

“Why not?”

“ ’Cause then I’m the chicken!”

“So what? The chicken is the smart one!”

“Julie says this goes on all the time. It’s not a big deal. Okay?”

“Okay?”
Bridge repeated. “What does ‘okay’ mean?” Bridge’s brain flicked to all of those comments between Em and Julie:
UR gorgeous. ILYSM.

“They’re all in love with him, you know,” Em said. “The girls on soccer. Do you even get how crazy it is that he picked me?”

“Em, lots of people would pick you.”

“It’s like a trust thing.”

“A trust thing? You showed me his picture. You think he won’t show people your picture?”

“I’m going to lose him if I don’t, Julie says.”

“
Julie
says? Em. Are you sure you even like him that much?”

Em just gave her a look. “Please help me, Bridge. I want the picture to be decent. Not one of those stupid selfies.”

“I
am
helping you. I’m helping by saying
stop.
”

“You know what? You have no idea. You just—don’t. Bridge, I kissed him.”

“When?”

“Right after Halloween.”

“
Halloween?
That was days ago! You didn’t tell us?”

“I know. I should have.”

“Did you tell Julie?”

Em looked at her desk. “We were at practice together. It just came up.”

“Wow. So it ‘came up’ with Julie, but not with
us
?”

“I said I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you guys would even, like, want to know.”

“Of course I’d want to know! This is a big deal, Em. Right?”

Em nodded. “Right.”

“What was it like?”

“Good. Weird. Good.”

“Let’s find Tab,” Bridge said. “As soon as the bell rings.”

“Tab’s all
judgy
now, with the Berperson.”

“She cares about you.”

“I know. But neither of you gets it.”

Bridge looked at Em. “Maybe I don’t get
everything,
but look—we’re sticking together. Okay? We’re still a set.” She grabbed Emily’s hand.

“So you’ll help me with the picture? Please? Please-please?”

“But you’re not going to rush into this, right? You have to promise.” She squeezed Em’s hand. “Don’t send any more pictures until you think about it.”

“I promise. You’re the best. Can you come over right after school tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Just to take the picture. I won’t send it. Promise.” Em hesitated. “And don’t tell Tab, okay?”

The two-minute bell rang, and Bridge’s attention jerked to the blank page in front of her. “Can I look at your French homework?”

Emily smiled. “Sure.”

—

After the last bell, Bridge was bumping along in the sea of kids leaving the building when Em grabbed her arm. “Hey, superstar.”

“Hey. Where were you before sixth period? Tab and I waited by your locker.”

“Nowhere. Everywhere.”

Bridge looked at Em more closely. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Em put her mouth next to Bridge’s ear. “What would you say if I told you I just kissed Patrick in the hall behind the science lab?”

“Congratulations, I guess?” But Bridge couldn’t exactly picture it. Did they just stand there in the hall with their lips touching, or did they lean up against the wall? What did they do with their hands? And weren’t they afraid someone would see them?

Em smiled. “Thanks. Gotta go. Banana Splits.” Em rubbed her stomach theatrically and started walking backward toward the library, bumping into everyone in her way.

“Save me a cookie?” Bridge called.

“Not a chance!” Em yelled.

VALENTINE’S DAY

The blond girl with dreadlocks is wiping down tables. You can now see that her boxing-glove T-shirt has words on the back:
TOUCH ME AND YOUR FIRST LESSON IS FREE.

You try not to meet her eyes, but there aren’t that many places to look.

“So what happened to your money?” she asks from across the room.

You think about saying that your bag was stolen. “I forgot it. At home.”

“You need to call someone?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You got a phone?”

“Yeah. But not with me.”

“You left that at home too?”

“Yeah.”

“You must have left in a hurry.”

You say nothing to that.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You told the lady in the goofy hat that you’re fourteen.” She gives you a hard look and then walks back behind the register, where she yanks a gigantic purse onto the counter and starts feeling around inside. “You can use my phone.”

“Thanks. But I’m really just waiting for my friend.”

“Your friend,” she says.

“Right.” You want to change the subject. “So, how do you like working here? It’s been a while, right?”

She nods. “Five months. It’s pretty good. Nice boss, free food, can’t complain. Do you have a job?”

“Not really. I mean, I babysit.”

“I used to babysit. My brothers. But I never got paid.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

“I’m Adrienne,” she says, and sticks her hand out.

You have to get up and walk over to her to shake. Her grip is slightly painful. She shoves her bag back underneath the counter and then starts hopping from foot to foot. You are not about to ask why.

“So.” She glances around. “Do you really know the Barsamians, or was that just something to say?”

“No, I do. Our families are friends. I remember when Mr. Barsamian bought this place, after Bridge—that’s his daughter—”

Adrienne nodded. “I know Bridge.”

“Well, she got hit by a car, about five years ago.”

Adrienne blinked, stopped jumping. “Huh. I didn’t know that. Was it bad?”

“Really bad. She was in the hospital a lot, having these surgeries. Anyway, that’s when her dad opened this place. Before that, he had a different job—he traveled a lot, I think.”

“What about the brother?”

“Jamie?”

“Yeah.”

“Jamie’s great. I mean, we don’t hang out much or anything. He’s a year ahead of me, and we don’t go to the same high school.”

“I don’t miss high school.”

“Yeah.”

“I left early.”

“You did?”

Adrienne nodded. “I’m doing this boxing thing. And working.”

“Wow. My parents would flip.”

Adrienne smiled. “Mine definitely flipped. They want me to be a marine biologist. I’m thinking about it.”

“Wouldn’t you have to finish high school for that?”

“Oh, I did finish. Got my last credits at summer school and skipped senior year. Who needs the drama, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So now I’m into boxing. Maybe I’ll go to college next year, maybe I’ll wait. You can have it all, but you can’t have it all at once.”

You look at her. “How old are you?”

She laughs. “How old are
you
?”

“Almost fifteen,” you admit.

She nods, then points at herself. “Eighteen.”

“You look older.”

“You don’t. You sure you don’t want to use my phone?”

“No thanks. I should go. I guess my friend isn’t coming.”

But you just sit there.

“Keep me company for a while,” Adrienne says. “I get bored.”

SUITS

What Emily had decided to do was take a picture of herself in her new jeans, with no shirt on.

“But wearing a bra, which is basically the same as a bathing suit,” she told Bridge. “And I’ll do one of those photo filters, so it’s kind of fuzzy? You know, artsy.”

“Tell me again why you’re doing this?” Bridge said. “One more time.”

“What if my boyfriend asked for a picture of me in my bathing suit?”

“I’d say he was creepy. Is Patrick even your boyfriend?”

“You promised not to be judgy. People walk around the city in less than a bathing suit!”

“I’m not being judgy,” Bridge said. “I’m being—asky.”

Em started brushing her hair out in front of the mirror. “We want to, like—show ourselves. Be real. Do things for each other we wouldn’t do for anyone else.”

“Why don’t you just talk to each other? Isn’t that more real, more
you,
than a fuzzy picture of your bra?”

“I think,” Em said, “that you’re, like, just not there yet. With Sherm.”

“Sherm! What are you talking about?”

“And Tab…Tab has no idea
at all.
”

“She turned you down, didn’t she? You asked her for help and she said no. Right?”

Em mimicked: “ ‘You know I love you, but I can’t be part of this.’ ”

“She does love you.”

“I
know.
I love her too.”

But suddenly the air felt different. Tab wasn’t here with them, on purpose. That had never happened before.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bridge said.

Em put her brush down, crossed her arms, and pulled her T-shirt over her head in one quick motion. Underneath, she was wearing a lacy black bra.

“Wow, fancy,” Bridge said. “Where’d you get that?”

“My mom’s drawer. Can you believe it? She has, like, ten of these.”

“You can wear your mom’s bras?”

“Shut up.”

“You look like a perfume ad or something.”

Em smiled. “Really?”

—

On her way home, Bridge stopped by the Bean Bar. It was one of their busy times, right after the end of the regular workday.

“Bonjour, Finnegan!” Adrienne said, waving to Bridge over the customers’ heads.