Authors: Elizabeth Scott
Tags: #Teenage girls, #Fiction, #Love & Romance, #Best Friends, #Dating & Sex, #Shopping malls, #Realistic fiction, #Schools, #Family Relationships, #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Family problems, #School & Education, #Popularity, #Family Life, #Family & Relationships, #Marriage & Divorce, #Friendship, #First person narratives, #Emotions & Feelings, #Family, #General, #Interpersonal Relations, #Dating (Social Customs), #High schools
"No," I said.
"No?" He looked startled, which confirmed what I already knew, that him asking me out wasn't about me at all, but it still hurt. It hurt a lot.
"That's right," I said. "I don't want to go out with you. I don't want anything to do with you. You hook up with me, then humiliate me. I've had more than enough of you."
And so I did get to have a say, I got to end something before it could end on me.
It wasn't what I wanted. But then, what was in my life that I did want?
Work was weird. I didn't get to go home, not even to make something to eat for dinner, because Dad had to close the booth down to come get me and was anxious to get back.
Mall management didn't like it if stores were shut down during mall hours, and apparently Dad had already gotten in trouble for it.
When I asked him when he'd shut the store down, he muttered something about
"taking a break" to look at video games with Todd "a couple of times." Figured.
"How come you never take me to the movies or ask me to go somewhere with you at work?" I said, and looked out the window. The mall loomed in front of us, just waiting to suck me in. I couldn't believe I'd ever wanted to spend time here.
"Well, I--you're always doing homework or fixing things in our storage area," Dad said, and I cleared my throat, embarrassed that he thought I was working so hard when I'd mostly been making out with Will.
"Plus, whenever I ask you about coffee or getting something to eat, you always tell me to bring you something or say you aren't hungry or--" Now Dad cleared his throat.
"Look, the truth is, I know you don't like working with me, and I wouldn't--I don't want to embarrass you. But if you want to do something together, I'd really like that. Like tomorrow, I'm planning on visiting Todd at work in the morning, before the mall opens, to hand out some free samples. You should come. You'd miss a little bit of school, but I bet you wouldn't mind that, right?"
"You're going to try and sell Perfect You stuff at Todd's job while he's working? Won't that get him in trouble?"
Dad shook his head. "No, it's not like that. I'm just going to put some samples by the door and say hello to anyone who picks them up. I think it'll be a great way to start building a client base."
How was that different from what I'd said? And how could my father be so clueless?
"Todd wants you to do this?"
"I thought I'd surprise him," Dad said. "Thank him for pitching in. I know it's been hard on him, giving up his dream to take the first job that came along."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. I knew it was mean, but come on! Todd's "dream" had consisted of watching television, hogging the computer, bathroom, and phone, and going out.
"You think what your brother's done is funny?" Dad said. He didn't sound mad, just disappointed, the most negative emotion he seemed to let himself feel, and I sighed. I knew why Dad was
upset, that he saw all of Todd's so-called dreams as reflections of the one he had, and that was both sad and really worrying. I thought losing the house might make Dad less enamored with his "dream job."
I guess I was wrong.
"I don't think it's funny," I said carefully. "I think it's great Todd's working. But maybe--
maybe you should ask him if it's okay to bring all the Perfect You stuff with you before you visit."
"Oh." Now he sounded hurt and sad, but when I looked over at him he was smiling like always. Great. I wished he could get upset like a normal person. The way he always turned away from anger made me feel guilty for having any of my own.
"I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't care," I said, "but he's probably in some sort of training/new employee thing, and I bet that's keeping him really busy. He'd probably be too busy to even talk, you know?"
"I hadn't thought about that, but I guess you're right. Thanks, honey." He sounded cheerful, but as soon as we got to the booth he took off on an "errand" and I was left alone. I got out my homework and wondered why it sometimes felt like I was the parent and Dad was the kid.
I went to the food court on my dinner break, but even though I sat in the middle, visible to everyone, and lingered for an extra ten minutes, I didn't see Will.
I went out to the trash bins right before the mall closed, to throw out some expired vitamins that hadn't sold, but didn't see him there either. I told myself I wasn't going to check our storage space but I did, and stood there for a moment, alone. I guess Will really had heard what I'd told him earlier. That was good. It really was. If nothing else, it was about time someone listened to what I had to say. That I'd ended things before they ended on me.
But the thing was, even though I'd meant what I'd said to him before, I still wanted to kiss him. I wished I'd never gone to that stupid party. I wished I knew why he'd asked me if I was going. I wished he'd been in the food court or behind the mall or waiting for me by our storage space.
I wished that he really wanted me.
Todd was asleep when we got home, curled up on the sofa with a blanket pulled over his head. It pretty much discouraged conversation, and for once Grandma wasn't lying in wait. Even Mom hadn't waited up, though I could hear the television on in her and Dad's room.
I went to my room and thought about doing homework. I didn't feel like doing it, though. I wanted to talk to someone about what had happened. I wanted to talk about life with Grandma and Todd, about losing the house, about how I'd made a pyramid out of fourteen bottles of Garlic Gels at work and it was the only time Dad had truly smiled at me all night.
Weirdly, the first person that came to mind when I saw myself talking about all of it was Will. I guess what happened at school had gotten to me more than I realized. Maybe . . .
maybe he'd meant it when he asked me out. Maybe . . .
No, I wasn't going there. I'd seen everyone looking at us. I'd seen him see it too. I'd done the right thing. Plus Anna had said that me and Will together was insane. I was angry and hurt when she'd said it, but she was right, wasn't she? She'd known what I hadn't wanted to see. I should tell her that.
So I did.
I kicked off my shoes as I called her, curling up on my bed.
"Hello?"
"Hey," I said. "It's me. Kate, I mean."
"I know, silly. What's up?"
This was familiar. This was how we always talked. "I hate vitamins. Also, my feet hurt."
"You know what I mean," she said. "What's up with you and Will?"
"Nothing."
"Come on, Kate. He asked you out in front of half the school, and you destroyed him.
Sarah told me all about it."
Great. Remembering the way she'd been looking at Will the last time he spoke to me, I could just imagine what she'd said. "Did she tell you it was obvious he asked me out because half the school saw him talk to me about total crap and then run off all day?"
"She didn't say that, but I figured that's what happened. Because, okay, Will dating someone? Please. He's the king of hookups."
"So you knew it was a pity thing."
"I . . . Look, even if it was, so what? Will is okay but he's nothing special, you know? I mean, he totally blew Sarah off when she went out to the mall to talk to him this afternoon, and it's like, who does he think he is?"
"I--I don't know," I stammered, because I was too busy thinking about the fact that he'd blown Sarah off to be coherent. "Maybe he was too busy to talk."
"Please," Anna said. "You know what I mean by talk, and since when is Will too busy to hook up with someone?"
Wait a minute. Not only had Will not talked to Sarah, he hadn't hooked up with her?
My mind was reeling. "Has Sam said anything to you about it?"
"No. Will and Sam only hang out because . . . well, they used to be friends, but then Will's mom talked Sam's mom into starting this stupid business, and now Sam says Will's accused him and Sam's dad of trying to stop it, which is so stupid that-- hold on a second." I waited for Anna to click over to another call, but instead I heard her put the phone down and the faint sound of her mother's voice.
"Sorry," she said, picking up the phone again. "Mom's having a bad day."
"You okay?"
She sort of laughed/sighed. "Sure. I have to be, don't I?"
"Anna--"
"No, it's okay. I don't want to turn into mopey girl. I've got Sam. I mean me, fat Anna Dray, is with Sam. I have the perfect life, you know? And I have the perfect boyfriend."
She didn't sound like she believed any of it, though. She just sounded like she wanted to, like she felt like she had to.
"That's . . . good."
"Good?" she said tightly, and then sighed. "You know me too well, Kate. Things aren't totally perfect. Sam . . . well, okay, first, his feet stink, which just.. it seems wrong to me. Plus he messed around with Tara over winter break."
"What?"
"Yeah." Anna's voice cracked a little. "I haven't--you're the only person who knows, okay? Tara told me a couple of weeks ago, all 'Yeah, Sam's great, and after we hooked up at Heather's over winter break he said he really loved you and I thought that was so sweet.' She was so upset when she realized I hadn't known about it that I felt bad for being mad."
"Anna!"
"You think she did it to be a bitch, right?"
"Yeah, I'd say casually mentioning she messed around with your boyfriend but hey, by the way, he totally loves you, qualifies as bitchy. What did Mr. Perfect have to say when you asked him about it?"
She mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "I don't know."
"You haven't said anything, have you?" I said. "Anna--"
"I can't say anything," she said. "He hates it when I get jealous. And it's Sam. Sam, Kate."
"I know it's Sam, but. . . okay, remember what you said last year when everyone knew that the senior Diane was messing around with was just using her to get back at his ex-girlfriend? You said it was stupid for Diane to pretend everything was okay just so she could be with some guy who didn't care about her or her feelings."
"Sam loves me, Kate," Anna's voice was clipped and cold. "And what happened to Diane was actually pretty terrible. She
really loved the guy, and she just wanted him to love her back."
"Oh, come on. She just wanted to go to the prom because she'd have been the only ninth grader who went. We even heard her say that in the bathroom before lunch, remember?"
"No. But it's nice to know you think I'm like that, which I guess means you think I'm using Sam. What exactly am I using him for?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Had talking to her always been this . . .
frustrating?
"Whatever. You don't know what it's like for me, okay?" Anna said. "When everyone knows who you are, there's all this pressure and you have to--"
"Anna, are you really going to lecture me about how hard it is to be beautiful and popular?"
She was silent for a moment, and then she laughed. "All right, I get it. I just--it's hard with Sam, but I don't want to give him up. I feel special when I'm with him. I am special when I'm with him."
"You'd be special without him."
"I wouldn't."
"Would."
"Wouldn't," she said, her voice soft. "People still remember who I was, Kate."
"You make it sound like you were a diseased yak or something."
I'd hoped she'd laugh, but she just sighed again. "Look, I gotta go watch a movie with Mom. She had a really bad day. Call me tomorrow?" She wanted me to call her? I guess we really were friends again. "Sure. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," she said, and I heard the "but" in her voice before she said it, and felt something shrivel inside me. "But I have to spend time with Sam and Diane and everyone else, okay? And it's--it takes up a lot of time. You understand, right? Please say you do, because I meant what I said this morning. If I didn't know you'd always be there for me, I'd be lost. I really need to know I can always count on you."
"You can," I said, and we said good-bye.
The thing was, I did understand what she meant. Anna was being nice when she talked to me at school, acting like Sam, who would sometimes talk to people he didn't have to notice, only she didn't have Sam's lifetime of popularity to fall back on. Sam had always been liked, and until this year Anna was a nobody, and people knew that. Remembered it.
I hadn't thought about what her life was truly like now because I'd been so busy wondering why it was so easy for her to forget me, but it seemed like her perfect life wasn't perfect at all. I'd thought it was. She'd seemed so happy. Finding out that she wasn't, that she'd gotten the great life and the great guy only to have it be not-so-great was sort of depressing.
It was also sort of not-depressing. I felt bad for thinking that, but the truth was, I was glad Anna wasn't totally happy.
I was glad she felt like she needed me.
Will didn't talk to me the next day. I hadn't realized
it, but I'd gotten used to talking to him, even if it was only to pretend he was annoying me while I thought stuff like, "I've kissed you! You've kissed me!" But he didn't ask me about homework or butt into any of my conversations, even when the Jennifers were complaining about the PSATs. In fact, when Jennifer M. asked me if I knew how she could do better for the four millionth time and I said, "Bribery," Will still didn't say anything. He didn't even smile.
I didn't see him at work either. I thought about going to Sports Shack to see if he was working, but what if he was? What was I going to say? "Hi, I know I said I didn't want to go out with you, and I know you only asked because you'd made yourself look like an ass, but the thing is, I kind of miss you?"
Besides, I didn't miss him. Not exactly, anyway. I missed making out with him. And hearing him talk about work. And how he never made fun of my crappy job, or even my dad. And the way he'd smile at me.
And the way I always felt like smiling when I was with him.
It wasn't even a relief to get home because things were so different there now. Mom was always picking up after Dad, trying to keep the house clean for potential buyers, and Todd had turned into someone who smelled like coffee, complained about how much his feet hurt, and wouldn't take phone calls after ten at night.