Tuesday feels like forever ago. But I force my mind back to that day—the day of the tampon explosion. The day Mom tried to convince me to call Dad. I texted Kassie to vent and she didn’t respond. Now I understand why.
She shoves a forkful of beet salad into her mouth and chews vigorously, like she needs sustenance to fuel her explanation. “Every time I bring up apartment hunting in Chicago, he gets pissy. I think he resents the idea of living with me next year instead of being in the dorms. Who wants to live in a 130-square-foot room when you can live with your hot girlfriend in a fabulous downtown apartment?”
Kassie has always had a weird thing against dorm life, especially since Nori and I found out we’re going to be dormmates. She’s always turning her nose up at the prospect of common bathrooms and shower shoes. But I suspect it’s less that she hates the idea and more that she’s missing out, not going to college.
I tilt my head in consideration. “Agreed. He should be more excited to get a place with you.”
“That’s what I thought. But he’s being so weird about the whole thing lately. He’s heading to the college next weekend to meet with the coach, and he doesn’t even want me to come with him. I don’t know what to do. I feel like he . . . sees me as some cling-on? I don’t chase guys, Char. They chase me.” Her blue eyes well with tears.
Normally, I’d be tempted to take the opportunity to commiserate with Kassie about Ollie. Anything to make me feel closer to her. But after experiencing kind and generous Adult Ollie, bad-mouthing him feels wrong. “Ollie wants you there,” I assure her, unable to stop envisioning Adult Yoga Kassie, sipping her smoothie, telling me she’s over long-term relationships and that she’s living her best single life.
“He doesn’t. He made that pretty clear.”
“Maybe he wants it to be a family thing?” I ask meekly. “I dunno, Kass. Maybe tell him it hurts your feelings that he’s being so meh about your future together. And that you’re feeling a bit left out.”
She considers this as she moves the salad around her plate. “Maybe. He’s at practice now.”
“Yeah. Don’t creep outside the locker room again. I’d wait until you’re feeling more chill. Like, maybe after school.”
Her eyes light up and she squares her shoulders, her confidence locked and loaded. “True. He kinda deserves the silent treatment for the afternoon anyway. It’ll keep him on his toes.” She pats my hand across the table. “You always know what to say. I’d be lost without you, honestly.”
“Same. Who else would work so tirelessly to find me a prom date?” I tease, trying to distract myself from telling her about my ladder fall. It probably isn’t the right time. Though let’s be real, it’ll never be an appropriate time to share that one.
Kassie’s smile turns serious. “For real, though. You’re always there when I need it. I’ve been shit. Nori and Renner did all the decorating last night.”
Her statement catches me off guard. “I thought Renner was busy?” It was the anniversary of his sister’s death, after all.
She shrugs. “With you down for the count, we needed an extra hand. He volunteered.”
I nod. Nori told me this morning that Kassie didn’t lift a finger. Not that they needed her help.
“I want to be a better friend,” she continues, gathering her hair over one shoulder. “How can I improve?”
I don’t know why, but my first instinct is to crack a joke. “Well, you can stop airbrushing yourself in group pictures. Leaving the rest of us with yellow smiles and oily foreheads is messed up.”
She snorts. “Noted. It is a toxic habit of mine. But what else can I do?”
“It’s fine, Kass. You can make it up at the Senior Sleepover tonight. There’s lots of setup to do.”
“Yes. Totally. It’s gonna be a girls’ night like old times. I’ll even bring the mini Reese’s Cups and Funyuns,” she adds, wiggling her brows up and down suggestively.
I cringe at the thought of her stinking up my sleeping bag with the smell of onion crisps. “You can leave the Funyuns at home.”
“Shut up. They’re God’s gift to humankind.” She rolls her eyes and pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Anyway, I made a new list of prom date contenders during stats class. Thoughts?”
I smile and nod as she presents her case for each guy on the list. This is the Kassie I became best friends with years ago. And even though things have been a little rocky lately, I’ll be damned if I let us drift apart.
TWENTY-NINE
When I get home, Mom is rooting through our kitchen drawer of takeout menus, nails encrusted with soil from gardening yesterday.
“Want to order from Smith’s tonight? I’m craving their mac and cheese.”
I’m bombarded with images of Adult Renner standing in the doorway of our house, two steaming bowls in hand, and my heart aches. I shake myself. I need to get a grip. Stat.
“Um, I don’t know about mac and cheese. What about Chinese? From Kozy Korner. You like their wontons,” I say, flinging my still-ripped schoolbag on the bench.
She shrugs. “Okay. Sure. Hey, how is your noggin feeling today?”
“Hard as usual,” I say, pretending to knock my skull.
“Sounds about right.”
“I did think about what you said yesterday morning,” I say, collapsing onto the couch, legs dangling over the armrest. The mention of food reminds me of how Renner took me to the drive-thru after I told him about Dad.
“What did I say yesterday?” she asks, half-distracted as she riffles through the drawer.
My heart twinges at the thought of Dad. He was gone. Leaving Alexandra and two technically-unborn-sisters behind. “About calling Dad.”
Truth be told, I’m still mad at Dad and the way he’s handled things. But now I understand how it feels to no longer have the chance to speak with him, even if I wanted to. So turning down the opportunity now, especially since he extended an olive branch, doesn’t sit right.
Her brows rise with surprise. “Oh, really? Okay. Great. He’ll be happy to hear from you.”
“I’ll call him. Maybe when I get home from the sleepover.”
“Oh right. The Senior Sleepover is tonight!” She does an embarrassing shimmy. “I remember my Senior Sleepover. Georgia and I made a pact to lose our virginities—”
I toss a throw pillow at her and pretend to gag. “Ew. Mom!”
“You’re such a prude, Charlotte,” she says, tossing the pillow back. It bounces off my knee and lands on the floor.
Mom has read one too many books on how to talk to kids about sex. Instead of having “the talk” like most parents, she tries to relate to me by using real-life examples, like when she told me all about losing her V-card in the back of a rusted Sunfire, Titanic-style. She’s under the impression (delusion) that the more open she is, the more I’ll tell her about my nonexistent sex life.
“Anyway, I didn’t actually lose it at the sleepover. Turns out the boys and girls had to stay on opposite sides of the gym,” she says, seemingly still disappointed.
“We’re separated too. If all goes smoothly, at least. Though who knows. Renner was supposed to arrange the chaperones.” I lurch. “That reminds me. I never confirmed them.”
She gives me a warning look. “You’re going to get a hernia if you keep this up. It’s Senior Week. These are the best days of your life. Have some fun for once.”
I think about Adult Renner. He told me to stop stressing and just enjoy life. “Easier said than done.”
She gives me a knowing look. Before she can say anything else, my phone pings.
It’s an email. From Cynthia Zellars from the Katrina Zellars Foundation.
My stomach flips.
I brace myself for what I already know. My official denial. I turn my face to avoid Mom’s inquisition. I’ll fall apart if she sees my disappointment. So while she’s distracted ordering dinner, I race to my room, close the door, and dive onto my bed.
Heart racing, I take in a deep breath and open the email.
To: Charlotte Wu <[email protected]>
From: Cynthia Zellars <[email protected]>
Subject: Scholarship
Dear Charlotte,
I am pleased to inform you that you are the recipient of the Katrina Zellars Foundation scholarship in the amount of $20,000 USD.