“You’re not! I’ll change in a bit.” Lauren would start to crisp in twenty minutes. I planned to point that out and we’d both move to the shade. She’d be thrilled to have company and I’d avoid bikini, port, and weight-loss exposure. She selected a magazine and handed me the stack. I’d read them all in the hospital. Thank you, Nurse Hollywood.
It didn’t matter, because Lauren shut the magazine as soon as she opened it and turned to me with a confiding expression. “I really hated camp without you. Don’t tell Hil and Ally because they did their best to make me feel included, but they had all these captain meetings and I couldn’t go. I felt so lame and third wheelish.”
“That sucks.”
“They totally deserve to be captains—it’s not that—and I missed you the whole time you were gone, but especially then.”
“Sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you’d rather have been with us too.” She flipped her magazine open again.
“Definitely.” I pulled my feet up on the chair and thought. Of the Calendar Girls, Lauren was the best listener. Ally was too easily distracted and Hil was too opinionated. Lauren wasn’t a Gyver give-advice type listener, but the kind you went to when you wanted someone to nod and agree.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asked self-consciously.
“Just spacing out. Sorry.” I looked away, searching for a sign. Not finding anything obvious, I reached over and plucked a flower out of one of my mother’s patio pots. Tell her. Tell her not. Tell her. Tell her not … Not.
I dropped the naked stem onto Lauren’s open magazine. “So tell me about camp.”
She launched into a play-by-play and was still talking when Ally and Hillary flopped onto the waiting chairs and added their commentary.
“I hate that you missed everything: camp, parties, our trips to the shore—you should see the Mathersons’ shore house. And Ryan talked about you a lot,” Ally said.
“Really?” I sat up.
“Really. And he was all touchy-feely at Iggy’s,” Ally said.
I nodded. Hil put down her magazine.
“And he wanted you alone last night,” she added.
“So? Did you finally sleep together?” Lauren asked, since Ally wouldn’t. Hillary sat up and turned toward me. Ally squeezed in next to me on my chaise.
“No. We didn’t. We just talked. And kissed a little.”
“Ryan? Talk?” Hil scoffed. “Not when we were hooking up.”
“’Fess up,” teased Lauren. “We won’t judge.”
“He could talk to Mia.” Ally leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Ally. Sorry to disappoint, but that’s all we did. I don’t know, do you guys ever look at him and think … he’s got so much potential?” I asked.
“I look at him and think, God, he’s hot!” laughed Lauren. Ally gave me a puzzled smile.
“What do you mean?” Hil asked. “Boyfriend potential? Because you agreed.”
I struggled with the words, wanting to explain why I was so attracted to Ryan, besides the obvious. “That’s not what I mean. Like, he could be so much more than he is … if he wanted to. Does that make sense?”
“Um, not really. Sorry,” said Ally.
“What did you two talk about?” Hil asked. She was studying me again, clearly on the cusp of some bigger question. One I probably didn’t want to hear and probably couldn’t answer.
“Lots of stuff. His job, living with Chris.” I shrugged, frustrated I couldn’t express it and they couldn’t understand. My eyes darted over the fence to Gyver’s house. He’d get it, but he wouldn’t tolerate the topic.
“Hil hooked up with Chris,” Ally exclaimed. “Did we tell you? It was when we visited.”
“No way!” I turned to her in surprise. “So? How was it?”
Hil pulled a rhinestone flask out of her bag and began mixing its contents with Diet Coke. “I need a drink before I’m ready to relive that.”
She distributed cups and toasted, “Drink up, buttercups.”
I joined in the echo of “I will, daffodil,” but only pretended to sip. I knocked the contents into the grass and drummed my fingers against the empty plastic while they rehashed the hookup, then some party, or a beach trip, or whatever from their summer full of: “so wasted,” “oh my God, so funny,” and “you should’ve been there.”
I stood, mumbled “snacks,” and walked into the house.
I took my time pouring popcorn into a bowl, watching out the window as Ally demonstrated a cheer move and almost fell in the pool.
They were laughing; I was gripping the countertop with white fingernails.
It was the same summer day we’d had for years—but it seemed trivial, boring.
I wanted them to leave as fiercely as I’d wanted to see them—anything to end this hollow feeling, like I was betraying our friendship by not being on the same page. Or like they were betraying me by being the same when I wasn’t.
“Mia!” Hil was standing on her chair, yelling toward the house. “Where are you? Do you need help?”
“Coming.” I picked up the popcorn and practiced my casual smile at the toaster until it felt less like a grimace. Pushing open the screen door, I called, “Hey, Laur, you’re starting to burn. I can see it from here.”