Sometimes It Happens (5 page)

Ava leaps out of her seat and throws her arms around me. “Ohmigod, I missed you so much!” She pulls away and grins.

“You just saw me two weeks ago,” I say, sliding into the seat next to her. I reach into my bag and get really busy
pulling out a notebook and a pen. I wish it wasn’t the first day of school, so I’d have books or homework or something to keep me busy. Of course, I wouldn’t have homework for homeroom, but I’d have at least something I could pretend I was finishing up.

“Yeah, but that was different. Did you get my text last night? I wanted to see if you wanted to meet up before school.”

“Yeah, I was . . . I was already sleeping.”

Her eyes narrow in concentration as she studies me. “Did you . . . you didn’t cut your hair, did you?”

“No,” I say, reaching up and fingering my hair. “I mean, kind of . . . I just . . . I got a few layers.” I went with Lacey a couple of days ago to Bellaria, this super swanky salon in Boston. She got her long red curls straightened, and I got a trim and some layers, and then we went shopping for school clothes. It was really fun, although Lacey kept having to stop and fish around in her bag for her hand sanitizer. She doesn’t do well with taking public transportation or touching things that a lot of other people have been touching, like doorknobs, clothes racks—you know, pretty much anything.

“You should totally get extensions,” Ava says. She tosses her newly long hair over her shoulder. “Don’t you think they look totally natural? Long hair is really in right now.”

“Totally natural,” I agree.

“Maybe after school we can go and get you some clip-ins,” she says. “You know, so you can try them out. They’re not that expensive, but you should probably get real human
hair ones.” She giggles, like the thought of real human hair is funny. Which it kind of is. And also kind of gross.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, even though there’s no way that’s going to happen. First for the aforementioned gross factor, second for the fact that I really love my new haircut, and third because I’m totally and completely broke. “So how was the last day of camp?”

“Amazing,” she says. “The girls just grew so much, you know? I really didn’t want it to end. I spent the whole car ride home last night bawling.”

Ava’s been away in Maine, working as a camp counselor. If you knew Ava, you would know that this is not what you would call, um, a good fit. Ava doesn’t really like to work, and she’s definitely not the outdoorsy type, unless you count lounging around by the pool. So when she told me she was going, I was shocked. Especially since she told me the day after I caught Sebastian cheating on me, which was definitely not the best timing.
Not the best timing
, the voice in my head whispers,
story of your life.

“That’s great,” I say, deciding not to get into the fact that from what I saw when I was visiting her there a couple of weeks ago, it didn’t seem like Ava had really learned anything. And the girls there seemed pretty much like exactly what they were—spoiled little rich girls, whose parents spent fifteen thousand dollars to send them away for three months.

“Yeah, it was kind of life-changing, you know?” Her smile, while usually vibrant and white, seems even more so today.

“Did you . . . did get your teeth whitened?”

“Yeah,” she says, pretending to be embarrassed, but I can tell she’s pleased I noticed.

“When did you have time to do that?”

“Oh, you know, on one of our days off last week,” she says. “I went with Lulu.”

Oh, right. Lulu. Ava’s camp friend. Apparently Lulu is super cool because she has ten piercings in one ear and none in the other, and she meditates and Ava thinks that’s so super spiritual. The two of them are planning a spring break trip to an ashram where they’re going to do Bikram Yoga six hours a day and eat an all-vegan diet. “So listen,” she says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry again about what happened when you came to visit, that was . . . I mean, it was kind of . . .”

“Yeah,” I say, remembering the weirdness that happened that weekend. “It’s not a big deal, really!” I force a smile, hoping she doesn’t want to get into it. But I don’t have to worry, since Ava doesn’t have a chance to say anything. Because at that moment, Sebastian Bukowski comes walking into the room, his eyes scanning the class until they land on me.

“Oh my God,” I say, turning my head and looking away. “I didn’t know he was in our homeroom.” I thought he was in room B3! I asked Jessica Conrad to ask her boyfriend, Blake, who’s really good friends with Sebastian, and she told me Sebastian was in B3, and since I’m in A3, I figured I was safe. But I must have gotten misinformation. Damn that Jessica Conrad! I should have known better than to trust
her—she pushed me off the swings once in third grade.

“Don’t talk to him,” Ava instructs, “He doesn’t even deserve your acknowledgment. What a jerk-off.”

She’s right. He is totally getting ignored. Who even cares if he’s in this homeroom? It doesn’t matter, because that is really of no concern to me anymore. In fact, of all the bad things that could happen today, this shouldn’t even rank. La, la, la, not caring.

But then Sebastian slides into the seat next to me, his hair all floppy and cute, wearing his favorite black jeans even though it’s about eighty-five degrees outside. He taps me on the shoulder, and Ava’s eyes widen in shock.

“Hey, Hannah,” he says. “Can I talk to you?”

My phone rings at nine o’clock the next morning, and I reach over and look at the caller ID, wondering if Sebastian couldn’t sleep, like me, and is calling to explain/apologize/beg to take me back. But it’s only Ava.

“Hellooo,” I say morosely into the phone. I’ve been up all night crying. Big, sloppy, wet tears that pooled on my pillow and made it hard to sleep since my pillowcase became a disgusting, sopping mess. Although I have to admit Ava was right—the making out with Jonah Moncuso did kind of help. And so did the three beers I drank. But definitely not enough to erase the fact that Sebastian never called me to see how I was doing, or to ask me
why
I spent all night making out with Jonah Moncuso, or to tell me why
he
was making out with some other girl, or even to at least break up with me properly. I mean, who does that? He obviously knows that I know that he cheated, and he knows that I was making out with Jonah. Everyone knows I was making out with Jonah. It was kind of creating a buzz at the party, if you want to know the truth.

“I knew you’d be awake,” Ava says. “Get out of bed.”

“No thank you.” I roll over and bury my head into my damp pillow. The sun is streaming in through the windows, and I calculate how much energy it would take to get up and close the blinds. Too much, so I decide to just keep my eyes shut extra tight.

“I’m coming over and taking you to Starbucks,” Ava says.

“You
are
?” This is a supreme sacrifice on Ava’s part. She hates Starbucks. She thinks coffee stains your teeth, plus her psycho ex-boyfriend, Riker, works there, and sometimes Ava thinks he might, like, slip something into her drink. Like poison or a laxative or something. She thinks this not because she’s paranoid, but because one time after she ordered, Riker actually said, “You want some poison or a laxative with that?” She totally complained to his boss, but the boss didn’t care. That’s because the boss, this college girl named Britney, is having sex with Riker.

“Yes,” she says. “And we’re going to order breakfast sandwiches and cookies and whatever other overproduced, disgusting, addictive things Starbucks has to offer.”

“Will you even get whipped cream on your coffee?” I ask her.

Pause. “Yes.”

“Ava, I love you!” Things are suddenly looking up, and I throw the sheets off and jump out of bed, heading to my dresser to pull on a tank top and shorts.

But when Ava gets there ten minutes later, I’m depressed
again. And when we get to Starbucks fifteen minutes after that, I’m really,
really
depressed.

“I loved him,” I moan once we’re sitting at a table in the back, an assortment of muffins and breakfast sandwiches in front of us.

“No you didn’t,” Ava says. She’s making my coffee for me just the way I like it, with tons of cream and sugar. It’s actually making me feel better that she’s treating me like an invalid. I’m glad she knows I’m having a hard time and that I need to be coddled.

“Yes, I did,” I say, as she slides my coffee across the table to me. “I really did, I thought he was the love of my life!” Even I know this is a little dramatic. I mean, I didn’t really think Sebastian was the love of my life. But he could have been. You know, like when he matured. But now I’ll never know. It’s totally sad.

“Well, you need a new life plan then,” Ava says. “And pronto.” She hands me a breakfast sandwich, melted cheese oozing out of one side. “Eat,” she instructs. I take a bite obediently, and Ava nods in satisfaction. Then she says, “Anyway! I have news!” She claps her hands and looks excited.

I immediately drop the sandwich back onto my plate and look at her. “What?” I ask, my heart soaring. She might be about to tell me that Sebastian loves me after all! That he heard about my hot make-out session with Jonah and now he’s realized what he had. Of course, I couldn’t take him back after he cheated on me. Could I?

“I’m going to Maine!” Ava declares. She takes a dainty bite of her raspberry cheese Danish, then delicately licks her fingers, all without making crumbs or getting any kind of mess on herself.

“A road trip?” I ask hopefully. I love road trips! It’s exactly what I need, too! I’ll stay away from Facebook, my phone, and all other communication devices. Like my instant messenger and my front door. (A front door is totally a communication device! What if he decides to show up? You know, to communicate.) “Where in Maine? What should I bring?” I’m standing now, and almost jumping up and down. An old man sitting in the corner is looking at me like I’m crazy.

“Uh, no,” Ava says, looking nervous. “Not a road trip. Um, I’m going to Maine. For the summer.”

I sit back down. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought you just said you were going to Maine for the summer.” That can’t be right. Ava never goes anywhere for the summer. She likes to relax and stay right here. “Wait,” I say. “Is your family going on vacation?” If so, maybe I can go with them! Ava’s mom loves me. Like, for real. Whenever Ava and I would get into fights in middle school (or, let’s face it, high school), she would always email me and be like, “You and Ava should be friends again.”

“No,” Ava says. “I’m getting a summer job there. I’m, uh, going to be a camp counselor.”

“You’re
what
?” I ask, looking at her incredulously. “But you and I decided we weren’t going to get summer jobs!”
It’s true. Ava and I decided we’d rather spend the summer hanging out by the pool, so we didn’t look for summer jobs. Ava’s philosophy was that we’d have to get jobs
next
summer before we went to college, and probably every summer after that, so it was our last chance at freedom. And even though I kind of sort of wanted to spend the summer working so I could get a car when school started, I figured she had a point. Although the logic
did
seem slightly flawed, because the freedom a car brings is totally better than the freedom of one summer. But whatever, I’m all about the instant gratification.

“Hello, ladies,” Riker Strong says, walking over to our table. He’s in his Starbucks uniform, and holding a tray of cut up bagels. “Would you two like to try a free sample of our new cranberry vanilla bagels?”

“Sure.” I take one off the tray and pop it into my mouth. I guess depression hasn’t affected my appetite.

“Hannah!” Ava yells. “Don’t eat that!” She holds out a napkin. “Spit it out immediately.”

“No,” I say, chewing and swallowing. “It’s good.”

“Ava?” Riker asks, grinning and holding out the tray.

“No, thank you.” Ava turns away and refuses to look at him. When he’s gone, she looks at me. “You can’t just eat things he offers, you have no idea what he’s done to them!”

“He didn’t do anything to them,” I say. “He didn’t know what bagel I was going to take. Look, he’s over there giving them to the other customers now.” I watch as the old guy in the corner who was staring at me earlier takes three samples
off the tray and gobbles them down. Geez, talk about greedy. Doesn’t he know it’s one per customer? “So unless he wants to poison us all . . .”

“He probably does want to poison us all,” Ava says. “And besides, I didn’t say poison. He could have done anything, like spit on them, or . . .” She trails off, leaving me to imagine all kinds of gross bodily Riker functions that could have been released on or near those bagels.

“Ava,” I say, “that’s disgusting.” But I kind of wish I’d spit it out now, and I take a big drink of my coffee to get the bagel taste out of my mouth. “Now can we please get back to talking about how you’ve lost your mind?”

“I haven’t lost my mind,” she says. “My mom’s friends with the camp director, and he called her early this morning saying they were one counselor short, and asked if I’d be interested.” She shrugs, as if to say,
what could I do?
(Answer: Um, say no because your best friend is heartbroken and needs you here, and besides, even if the aforementioned heartbreaking hadn’t taken place you guys still had plans to spend the summer together.) Then she looks at me like she’s expecting me to be happy for her.

But all I say is, “We said we weren’t going to have summer jobs this year, remember?”

“I know that’s what we
said
,” Ava says, waving her hand like that was so five years ago, even though we just talked about it last month. She takes off her sunglasses and sets them down on the table, then shakes out her ponytail,
letting her long, blond hair pool around her shoulders. “But I couldn’t pass this up! This isn’t, like, a summer job, Hannah, this is an
experience
.”