I pit-stopped home to freshen up, ditch my graduation gown and touch up my hair and makeup. It was tradition for the grads at St. Norman’s to wear white on graduation day, and I loved the chiffon tank dress I’d found, the way the A-line skirt fanned out from hip to knee. Every step I took made me feel like a prima ballerina, the silky fabric floating around my legs.
I’d blown my hair out straight so that my graduation cap would fit on my head, but mostly, I was trying to look more classic and natural, like Michelle Pfeiffer at the end of Grease 2. I changed out my silver hoops for my diamond studs, put my St. Christopher medal on and did one last mirror check before running downstairs to say goodbye to Dad and Bruce. My brother and all the other underclassmen still had three days of exams to look forward to, and the public schools weren’t due to let out for weeks. Seeing as it was a Tuesday, we knew that the town of Norman would belong exclusively to the senior Class of ’91 that night.
I headed outside just as Trip was pulling in the driveway. On my way down to his truck, I could see him just sitting there behind the wheel smiling at me as I approached. By the time I opened the door, I realized the look I saw on his face could only be described as... proud.
“Hey, Chester,” I offered by way of a greeting. I only called him that when we were alone; one, because I didn’t want to sell him out, and two, because I liked having a secret kept just between the two of us.
“Hey there, Lay-Lay. Looking good, I see.”
I smiled back in answer, caught off guard because I never knew what to say whenever he threw a compliment my way. He looked gorgeous in his dark blue jeans and white, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “You, too,” I said, trying to keep everything in perspective. I mean, we were still taking these little babysteps, still working on getting our friendship back on track. I had to remind myself of that.
We got to Rymer’s where the party was already in full swing. We made our way out to the back deck together, and I couldn’t help but be reminded how it was Tess who’d been his date for the last deck party. And this time it was me. Well, sort of.
Rymer was in rare form-the full keg he’d picked up hours before was his treat-filling up cups and passing them out like candy on Halloween. I grabbed my beer and headed into the kitchen, looking for some bowls to put snacks into. I saw Margie Caputo, and before I could even say hello or wish her congratulations, she snipped out, “You came here with Trip?”
I was surprised by her tone and just answered, “Mmm hmm.”
I went about my task, opening a bag of Ruffles and dumping them into one of the Tupperware bowls that was waiting on the table. Margie gave a snort and spat back, “So, what, are you guys like back together again or something?”
I folded the empty bag and threw it in the trash as I shot a confused look her way. When I saw the snotty look on her face, I decided to say, “Um, not that I owe you an explanation, but we’re just friends.”
She crossed her arms and added, “Well, no wonder. I heard you wouldn’t give it up and that’s why he broke up with you.”
What?
I was stunned on about twenty different levels.
Firstly, I couldn’t believe how Margie was talking to me. It’s not like we were bestest buddies or anything, but we’d always been friendly with each other over the years. Yet there she was, talking at me as if our friendship suddenly didn’t exist.
Mostly, I was surprised at what she’d said about Trip and me. People thought we were a couple at one point? And they thought we’d broken up because I was holding out on him?
I was fairly shocked to find I was the subject of a very misinformed grapevine. God. Didn’t people have anything better to do with their time than talk shit about other people’s lives?
I leaned against the counter across from Margie with my arms crossed, mirroring her same pose. I felt my anger rising like a heat wave up the back of my neck. Any minute, steam would start escaping from my ears.
“First of all, you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” I leaned forward, trying to seem intimidating, and aimed two fingers in her direction to continue, “And secondly, it’s none of your business!” I only half-registered that Lisa had entered the kitchen as I added, “What the hell is your problem tonight anyway? Are you serious?”
Margie snorted back, “Are you? What, you think a guy like Trip enjoys your company so much, he’s willing to take cold showers every night?”
What was up with her? What a psychopath!
Before I could get over my astonishment and say a single word, Lisa piped up. “What do you care?”
Margie actually had the bad taste to look smug as she said, “Well, I got to second with him, which was further than her.”