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Listen, its not like I got her a friendship bracelet or something.
Since when do you even talk to Anna Cartullo?
I sigh. I can tell shes not going to give up on this. I talked to her for the first time a couple days ago, all right? Lindsays still staring like the world is melting away before her eyes. I know the feeling. Shes actually pretty nice. I mean, I think you might like her if
Lindsay makes a high-pitched squealing noise and claps her hands over her ears again like the very words are torture. She keeps on shrieking like this while I sigh and check my watch, waiting for her to finish her performance.
Eventually she calms down, her squealing dying away to a gurgling noise in the back of her throat. She squints at me. I cant help but giggle. She looks like a total freak.
Are you done? I ask.
Are you back? She peels one hand off her ear tentatively, experimenting.
Is who back?
Samantha Emily Kingston. My best friend. My heterosexual life partner. She leans forward and raps once on my forehead with her knuckles. Instead of this weird lobotomized boyfriend-dumping Anna Cartulloliking pod whos impersonating her.
I roll my eyes. You dont know everything about me, you know.
I apparently dont know anything about you. Lindsay crosses her arms. I tug on the sleeve of her jacket, and she trudges forward reluctantly. I can tell shes actually upset. I put my arms around her and squeeze. Shes so much shorter than I am that I have to take mini-shuffling steps so our paces are matched up, but I let her set the rhythm.
You know what my favorite flavor of yogurt is, I say, hoping to appease her.
Lindsay heaves a sigh. Double chocolate, she grumbles, but shes not pushing me off of her, which is a good sign. With crushed peanut butter cups and Capn Crunch cereal.
And I know you know what size Im going to get.
Were at the door to The Countrys Best Yogurt now, and I can already smell the deliciously sweet chemical-y aroma wafting out to us. Its like the smell of the bread baking at Subway. You know its not the way nature or God intended it to smell, but something about it is addictive.
Lindsay looks at me from the corner of her eye as I pull my arms off her. Her expression is so mournful its funny, and I choke down another laugh.
Better be careful, Miss Jumbo Queen, she says, tossing her hair. All that artificial yumminess is going straight to your hips.
But her mouth is crooked up into a smile, and I know shes forgiven me.
FRIENDSHIP, A STORY
If I had to pick the top three things I love about each of my friends, heres what they would be.
ALLY:
Spent all of sophomore year collecting miniature porcelain cows and reading obscure facts about them online after one of thema real one, I meanwrapped its tongue around her wrist while she was on vacation in Vermont.
Cooks without recipes, and is totally going to have her own cooking show someday, and has promised we can all come on and be guests.
Sticks her tongue out all the way when she yawns, like a cat.
ELODY:
Has perfect pitch and the clearest, richest voice you can imagine, like maple syrup pouring over warm pancakes, but doesnt ever show off and only sings on her own when shes in the shower.
Once went a whole school year wearing at least one green item of clothing every single day.
Snorts when she laughs, which always makes me laugh.
LINDSAY:
Will always dance, even when nobody else is, even when theres no musicin the cafeteria, in the bathroom, in the mall food court.
Toilet papered Todd Hortons house every single day for a week after he told everyone that Elody was a bad kisser.
Once broke into a full-on sprint while we were cutting across the park, pumping her arms and legs and zooming across the fields in her jeans and Chinese Laundry boots. I started running too but couldnt catch up to her before we were both doubled over, huffing out the cold autumn air, my lungs feeling like they were going to explode, and when I laughed and said, You win, she gave me the strangest look over her shoulder, not mean, just like she couldnt believe I was there, then straightened up and said, I wasnt racing you.
I think I understand that now.
Im thinking about all these things at Allys house, feeling like I havent said them enough, or at all, feeling like weve spent too much time making fun of one another or bullshitting about things that dont matter or wishing things and people were differentbetter, more interesting, cuter, older. But its hard to find a way to say it now, so instead I just laugh along while Lindsay and Elody shimmy around the kitchen and Ally frantically tries to salvage something edible from two-day-old Italian pesto and some old packaged crackers. And when Lindsay throws her arms around my shoulders and then Allys, and then Elody scoots around to Allys other side, and Lindsay says, I love you bitches to death. You know that, right? and Elody yells, Group hug! I just barrel in there and put my arms around them and squeeze until Elody breaks away, laughing, and says, If I laugh any harder Im going to throw up.
THE SECRET
I just dont get it. Lindsays pouting in the front seat, halfway down Kents driveway, where the line of cars ends. How do you expect us to get home?
I sigh and explain it for the thousandth time. Ill get us a ride, okay?
Why dont you just come in with us now? Ally whines from the backseat, also for the thousandth time. Just leave the damn car.
And let you drive home, Ms. Absolut World? I twist around and stare pointedly at the vodka bottle shes holding. She takes this as a cue to toss back another gulp.
Ill drive us home, Lindsay insists. Have you ever seen me drunk?
It doesnt matter. I roll my eyes. You cant even drive sober.
Elody snorts and Lindsay wags a finger at her. Watch out or youll be walking to school from now on, she says.
Come on, were missing the party. Ally finger-combs her hair, ducking so she can check herself out in the rearview mirror.
Give me fifteen minutes, tops, I say. Ill be back before you even make it to the keg.
How will you get back here? Lindsays still eyeing me suspiciously, but she opens the door.
Dont worry about it, I say. I hooked up a ride earlier.
I still dont see why you cant just drive us home later. Lindsays grumbling, still unhappy about the arrangements, but she climbs out, and Ally and Elody follow. I dont bother answering. Ive already explained, and explained again, that I may be ducking out of the party early. I know all of them assume its because Rob will be there and Im afraid Ill freak or something, and I dont correct them.
Im planning to drop the car in Lindsays driveway, but after I pull out onto Route 9, I find that, without meaning to, I steer toward home. Im feeling calm, blank, like all of the darkness outside has somehow seeped in and turned everything off inside me. Its not an unpleasant feeling. Its kind of like being in a pool and kicking up onto your back until you find the perfect balance where you can float without thinking about it.
Most of the lights are off at my house. Izzys gone to sleep several hours ago. Theres a faint blue light glowing in the den. My father must be watching TV. Upstairs a bright square of light marks the bathroom. Through the shades I can see a figure moving around, and I imagine my mom dotting Clinique moisturizer on her face, squinting without her contacts, the tattered arm of her bathrobe fluttering, a bird wing. As usual theyve left the porch light on for me, so that when I come home I wont have to fumble in my bag for my keys. Theyll be making plans for tomorrow, maybe wondering what to do for breakfast or whether to wake me up before noon, and for a moment grief for everything I am losinghave lost already, lost days ago in a split second of skidding and tearing where my life ripped away from its axisoverwhelms me, and I put my head down on the steering wheel and wait for the feeling to pass. It does. The pain ebbs away. My muscles relax, and once again Im struck by the rightness of things.
As Im driving back to Lindsays, I think about something I learned years ago in science class, that even when birds have been separated from their flock they will still migrate instinctively. They know where to go without ever having been shown the way. Everyone was talking about how amazing that was, but now it doesnt seem so strange. Thats how I feel right now: as though I am in the air, all alone, but somehow I know exactly what to do.
A few miles before Lindsays driveway, I pull out my phone and punch in Kents number. It occurs to me that he may have thought I was kidding earlier today. Maybe he wont pick up when he doesnt recognize the phone number, or maybe hell be so busy trying to keep people from puking on his parents Oriental carpets he wont hear it. I count the rings, getting more and more nervous. One, two, three.
On the fourth ring theres the sound of fumbling. Then Kents voice, warm and reassuring: Hunky Heroes, rescuing distressed women, captive princesses, and girls without wheels since 1684. How can I help you?
How did you know it was me? I say.
Theres a surge in the music and the swelling of voices. Then I hear Kent cup his hand over the phone and yell, Out! A door shuts and the background noise is suddenly muffled.
Who else would it be? he says, his voice sarcastic.
Everyone else is here. He readjusts something and his voice becomes louder. He must be pressing right up to the phone. The thought of his lips is distracting. So whats up?
I hope your cars not blocked in, I say. Because Im in desperate need of a ride.
On the way back to Kents, were mostly quiet. He doesnt ask me why I was standing in the middle of Lindsays driveway, and he doesnt press the issue of why Ive chosen him to be my ride. Im grateful for that, and happy just to sit in silence next to him, watching the rain and the dark brushstrokes of the trees against the sky. As we turn into his driveway, which by this point is almost completely packed with cars, Im trying to decide exactly what the rain dancing in the headlights looks like. Not glitter, exactly.
Kent puts the car in park but leaves the engine on. I still havent forgotten that you promised me a secret, by the way. He turns to look at me. Dont think youre getting off so easy.
I wouldnt dream of it. I unbuckle my seat belt and inch closer to him, still watching the rain out of the corner of my eye. Like dust, kind of, but only if dust were made of solid white light.
