showed me his dad’s
shotgun
and I remember staring at it and
breathing in
the metallic,
harsh,
gunpowdery smell.
I felt cold, clammy,
like I might
pass out.
I wouldn’t touch that shotgun,
even when they
made fun
of me.
Anil reaches out
and closes
the glove compartment
with a decisive
smack.
Why would Brendan have a gun in his glove compartment? I blurt out.
Could be his dad’s, says Felix. I think he’s a big pro-NRA kind of guy.
I look down at my shirt,
splotched with MoonBuzz
red.
Like I’ve been shot.
I shiver.
I am having
a really
bad feeling
about this whole evening.
You okay, Max? Felix asks.
Okay, I say, my voice sounding thin, even to me.
I gotta take a leak, Felix says. And while I’m in there, he adds, rubbing his eyes, I’ll find Brendan and tell him some of us want to get out of here.
Thanks, Felix, I say.
Anil settles himself back
on the floor of the SUV,
his long legs
sticking out the door again.
It’s too bad about your shirt, he says. It’s nice. Looks really good on you.
And even though it’s
pretty dark
in the car,
I can clearly see he’s
blushing.
Wow, that sounded lame, didn’t it, he says.
Sorta, I say, trying not to smile. But thanks.
We laugh, awkwardly,
and then he
suddenly flashes me
his own smile.
Heart-stopping.
Okay.
So now I get why
Chloe Carney is with him.
Which makes me want to go home
even more,
though at the very same time
I don’t want
to go
at all.
To cover my confusion,
I take out
my camera,
pretending like I’m making sure
it didn’t get any
MoonBuzz on it.
You like to take pictures? Anil asks.
I do, I say. I’m on the wait list for Mrs. Pawley’s photography class.
Yeah, she’s good. What about working for the school paper? he asks.
I nod,
pressing the power button of
the camera
on and then off.
Was thinking I’d try for it, either that or the literary magazine. What’s it called, Versions or something?
Yeah, think you’d probably like that better, better than the paper I mean.
Why?
You’d be doing more creative stuff, not so many lacrosse games. Plus I’m the editor of the paper, and people say I’m a pain to work for.
That smile again.
Though we sure could use a good photographer, he says.
Between that and the shirt comment
I’m wondering if Anil could actually be
flirting with me,
even though he doesn’t seem like the
flirting type.
There you are, comes Emma’s voice. Chloe’s been looking all over for you.
Anil stands up,
looking guilty.
Where’s Felix? Brendan says, hopping into the driver’s seat. Jesus, my car smells like freaking Lollapalooza.
He powers down
all the windows.
Party’s lame, Brendan says. Emma wants to grab a burger or something.
As he puts the key
in the ignition,
Felix appears,
with Chloe close behind him.
When she and Anil slide past me
I get this strange, light-headed feeling
breathing in
his soapy smell.
Between the MoonBuzz
and whatever else they had at the party,
both Emma and Chloe are
pretty drunk.
Not gross drunk,
just giggly on Chloe’s part
and loud on Emma’s.
I find myself trying to
block out
Chloe’s throaty little giggles
coming from
behind me.
CHLOE
“Who You Should Fall in Love with, According to My Mom”
I’m a little messed up.
I think Anil saw Josh coming on to me.
He’s such a jerk,
Josh I mean.
Who wants something? says Brendan.
He’s pulled into a drive-through
fast-food place.
A milk shake suddenly sounds amazing.
Anil gets one, too,
and he pays,
so maybe he’s not too mad at me.
Toward the end with Josh,
he stopped paying for stuff for me.
Said it was because he lost
his job at the gas station.
But I wondered.
I can’t remember what Josh did exactly,
at the party,
maybe put his hand on my ass.
But I know Anil saw.
When Josh and I first got together,
sophomore year,
he was so devoted.
But middle of junior year
he started slipping away.
I could feel it.
Like he was distracted.
Bored even.
It sucked, and I didn’t know how to
stop the slide.
No matter how cute I looked,
how much I smiled.
Then it came,
Sorry, babe.
This just isn’t working out.
Hope we can stay friends.
Yeah, friends with benefits.
I don’t think so.
So I looked around.
And not that I want to brag
but there always seem to be guys
who want to be with me.
But no one else did anything for me,
not like Josh.
Till I saw Anil on the tennis court.
He was hot.
Plus he’s, what’s the right word,
decent.
Nice.
Nice.
For some reason that word
makes me giggle.
I know I’m giggling too much.
How’s the milk shake? Anil asks.
Cold. Creamy, I say.
I giggle again.
Stop it, I tell myself.
How come you never told me your brothers go to my mom? Anil suddenly asks.
Dunno, I say back. It’s not a big deal, is it?
No, he says. Except it seems sort of weird I didn’t even know you had brothers.
And it is weird,
weird that I’ve never brought Anil home.
But here’s why:
my mom would see this good-looking Indian guy
with a 4.0 and his two doctor parents
and she’d be like,
oh my god,
all drooly over him,
because if she’s said it once
she’s said it a thousand times:
Chloe honey, it’s just as easy to fall in love
with a future doctor
as it is to fall in love
with a future garage mechanic.
And I really don’t ever want Anil
to see that look
in my mom’s eyes.
Saturday, August 28, 11:45 p.m.
FAITH
Mom and
Dad are in
&
nbsp; the kitchen,
cleaning up.
Polly is
curled
at the
foot of
my bed.
I’m looking
at an old
photo album,
thinking
about Emma.
About Emma
before
Brendan.
Emma
always
had boys
liking her.
Always.
But she
never wanted
a boyfriend.
Not until
Brendan.
Sometimes
I think
she just
thought she
should try
it, the way
she likes
to try
everything,
at least
once.
Right away
I didn’t
like him,
even though
he looked
like a
fairy-tale
prince,
with his
blond curls
and dimples.
At first
I thought
it was
because he
took up
so much of
Emma’s time,
that I was
jealous.
And I guess
that was
part of it.
Truth is,
I’ve barely
seen Emma
this summer.
Not like last
summer.
We actually
hung out
a fair amount
then.
In fact,
my very
favorite
Emma
memory
was that
July.
Mom and Dad
were away,
at a
conference
for lawyers
in New Orleans.
Emma
and I were
watching TV,
reruns of
a silly show
about rich kids
living in
New York.
We hadn’t
even noticed
it was
raining
when suddenly
beeps
and warnings
came on
the TV.
Severe
thunderstorms
heading toward
Cook County.
The little
fluorescent
map in
the corner
of the screen
flashing
urgently.
Suddenly
we heard
the roaring
sound of
high winds
and lashings
of rain
on the
window.
And just
like that,
the lights
flickered
and went
out.
Awesome, said Emma.
We scouted
around for
flashlights,
found none
that worked.
By the time
we got
candles lit,
the storm
had blown
through.
A quick,
vicious hit
that left
the power
out for
days.
Freezers
full of:
melting Popsicles,
thawed T-bone steaks
and mushy boxes of Lean Cuisine.
While we were
looking
for candles,
Emma found
our old
dress-up
trunk.
C’mere, Faith, she called down the hall to me.
And in the
candlelight
we opened up
the trunk
and all
kinds of
memories
came
crowding out.
We each picked
a favorite gown.
Mine was
an old
wedding dress
of our
Aunt June’s.
It’s a hippie
wedding dress
with a
high neck
and delicate
ivory lace.
Emma picked
a deep purple
ball gown
of Mom’s,
from her
sorority days,
which shows
cleavage.
Then Emma
grabbed
my hand
and we
ran out
into the
backyard,
which was
covered with
wet leaves
and branches,
like nature
had been
having
a big old
crazy party
and left
a serious mess
behind.
But then it was
peaceful
and bright,
the yellow
half-moon
perched on
top of a
puffy bank
of silvery
clouds.
Emma led
me over
to the old
hammock,
soggy with rain,
and we both
lay back
onto it
side by side,
the way
we always
used to
when we
were younger.
We rocked
ourselves,
pushing
the ground
with our feet,
and looking
up at the
yellow moon.
Then Emma
took the
old lace
from my dress
between
her fingers.
You ever think about getting married, Faith? she asked.
No, I said.
She rolled
sideways on
the hammock
and looked
at me,
her head
propped on
her hand,
her elbow
sticking through
the mesh
of the
hammock.
Why not? she asked.
And finally
for the
first time,
I came
right out
and said it.
I don’t like boys.
I held
my breath.
That’s okay, said Emma. You’ve got plenty of time for that.
Yeah, I said. Thing is, I think I like girls.
She knew what
I meant.
I could tell
by the
flicker in
her eyes.
And I
expected,
Ew, Faith,
really?
But she
surprised me.
Sometimes
Emma
does that.
Well, that’s okay, too, she said.
Then she
reached over
to take
my hand,
giving it
a good
warm
squeeze.
And in that
moment,
in that
one lit
tle
squeeze,
I felt a
big weight
slide off
my heart.
Thanks, Emma, I whispered.
Hey, Faith, Emma said abruptly, turning to look at me again.
Yeah? I said.
You’re beautiful, you know. And smart. Really smart.
Me? I was taken aback.