“That’s easy for you to say,” Skylar choked out, turning off the stove as she smelled the soup starting to burn.
“I promise that everyone will forget about that video . . . and everything else . . . soon,” Gabby said, coming up behind Skylar to peer into the pot. “Yum. Do you want me to dish some out?”
“I’m not that hungry anymore,” Skylar said. Out of habit, she moved her hand down her arm to fidget with her silver watch. But she wasn’t wearing it, so she was left awkwardly holding her wrist and staring at Gabby expectantly.
“Well, how about a bevvy instead?” Gabby said, walking back to the table and digging in the tote, from which she pulled a half-full handle of Malibu rum and a carton of pineapple-orange juice. “Your aunt’s not home, is she? Let’s have a cocktail and relax. It’s been a crazy weekend. Is that okay? I brought these just in case.”
Skylar glanced at the clock. Nora wouldn’t be home for at least two hours—she cooked at Mrs. Davis’s house and usually took a long time dividing various casseroles into meal-size portions and labeling them for the elderly woman, who had lived right down the road for more than seventy years.
“No, but I have a lot of homework—”
Gabby cut her off. “So do I,” she said with a grimace. “But we can do it later. I was thinking we could brainstorm about the dance a little bit. You know, get the creative juices flowing. I brought over this old scrapbook of other dances. So that you could see what we’ve done already?”
There was something so earnest, so undeniably sweet about Gabby’s proposal, that Skylar couldn’t say no. “Okay. But not for too long.” She knew it was important to have Gabby in her corner. And if Gabby could overlook her embarrassing past, so could the rest of Ascension. She hoped.
“Yay! Good choice,” Gabby said, opening up the cabinet next to the sink in a hunt for glasses. Skylar watched her pour, trying to figure out what was different about Gabby this evening. She seemed smaller than usual, and not just because she was wearing one of her few pairs of sneakers instead of platforms.
They brought the drinks—syrupy and sweet, “like summer,” Gabby kept saying—into the living room and settled into the couch, placing the pint glasses on the coffee table in front of them and propping the scrapbook between them on their knees. Gabby took Skylar on a chronological tour of last year’s homecoming, Spring Fling, and Valentine’s Day dances, with a few nonschool holiday parties and summer beach bashes thrown in for good measure. Skylar noticed that she sipped from her glass after almost every page.
“Oh yeah, I remember when Fiona wore that dress—it had the coolest back.” Sip. “See how the band was right in the middle of the gym at this one?” Sip. “Oh my god, I cannot believe I kept this picture in here, I look like a whale!” Sip. “I think last year’s Spring Fling was the best one. My crowning achievement so far. . . .” Sip. Until her first drink was gone.
And then, out of the blue: “I have been so stressed out lately,” Gabby said, just the slightest bit too loudly.
Skylar didn’t know what to say. “Really?” You could have fooled me. And everyone else.
“I mean, looking at these pictures, it just reminds me of how much work goes into . . .” Gabby trailed off.
“Being you?” Skylar filled in, trying to keep the bite out of her voice.
“I guess so—even though I know that sounds dumb. I mean, I know I am so lucky. You know? But I just find myself being, like, totally . . . I’m just tired.” Gabby was staring down into her glass, watching the ice cubes melt. When she spoke again, her words had a staccato quality. “Part of me thinks it was easier when I was with Zach. One less thing to worry about, maybe? But now there’s just so much. Too much. I mean, SATs and the dance and, you know, being single . . . It’s like, what do I even focus on? I have to be perfect at all those things? Like my brothers. They’re both at Duke. People expect me to be, like, a girl version of them.” She ended her rant staring at an African mask that Aunt Nora had hanging on her wall.
Skylar still didn’t know how to respond. It was shocking to hear Gabby talk like this. Gabby, who had everything and made it look so simple.
“I mean, and it’s not even Zach that I miss the most,” Gabby said, looking at Skylar again. “At least without him I always had Em . . . but she’s never around anymore, and when she is, she’s just being weird. I don’t know what’s up with her, and it’s exhausting trying to figure it out.”