That was on the table for a while.
The girls tighten their hold around me, a cocoon of best-friend love. I have my new version of the Three Amigos. No Ewww, the purple house, but this will do.
The ceremony goes by faster than I thought it would—months of dread for one and a half hours of good-bye.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I say to Nat and Lys as I hurry down the bleachers.
I get to see you before you go off to a party with the senior class. We’ve agreed to meet on the baseball field before you find your parents.
“Hey,” you say, wiping away my tears. I hate that I’m all splotchy. “I love you. Nothing’s going to change that.”
I nod, miserable. “I just love you so much and what if—”
You press your lips against mine, soft and sweet. I hold on to you, greedy. I don’t care who sees us.
“I have to go,” you say, pulling away. “There’s no way I’m not seeing you all summer—we’ll figure it out. Promise.”
I sleep over at Nat’s and she, Lys, and I spend the night eating popcorn and chocolate. If it weren’t for them, I would have been inconsolable tonight. We talk about you going to college and how, even though it’s local, it’s an entirely different world. No—an entirely different planet.
“He’s going to be this hot rocker guy and all these college girls are going to throw themselves at him,” I say miserably.
Lys nods. “Yeah. Sorry, but … yeah.” Nat hits her and she says, “What? It’s true.”
Nat puts an arm around me. “He’s obviously in love with you. I think you guys will make it next semester … if you want to.”
“Of course I want to,” I say. I can’t really picture any scenario in which we’re not together. “Okay, no more boy talk, it’s too depressing.”
“Agreed,” Nat says. “Can you believe we’re officially seniors now?”
Lys reaches for the bag of kettle corn. “I know, right? Time to blow this Popsicle stand.”
The future is creeping up on me. The possibilities, I realize, are endless. I’d forgotten that over these months with you. My already tiny world had shrunk to the circumference of your arms.
“Am I losing myself?” I ask suddenly. “Have I become that girl?”
“That girl” is the one who ditches her friends for a boy, a girl whose whole life revolves around him.
Nat hesitates. Takes a long sip of her Pepsi Freeze.
“Well,” she says, weighing each word in that thoughtful way of hers. “Maybe a little.”
I reach for her hand, then Lys’s, and squeeze them. “That’s lame. I’m sorry.”
Nat shakes her head. “You’re happy, right?”
“With Gavin? Yeah,” I say. “It’s my parents who are making everything with him so complicated.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
Happy. This time next year, Gavin, I won’t be happy. I won’t be desperate to see you. By this time next year, I’ll be ready to say good-bye.
EIGHTEEN
You have the perfect family.
I like to just sit back and watch you together—your mom, teasing you, kissing your cheek to reassure you when you take her ribbing seriously. I love how when she kisses you, she makes a smacking sound. Mwah! That means she really loves you, in case you didn’t know. Your dad: absentminded and sweet, always walking into whatever room we’re in, looking for his glasses (or maybe checking up on us, I don’t know). You’re an only child and it’s obvious: you are their entire world. They worship you just like everyone else does—your first acolytes.
“Grace, I wish we could just put you in one of our suitcases,” your mom says. “You’re such a tiny thing, I bet we could manage it.”
“A carry-on bag would be better,” you say. “Then she wouldn’t have to stay in the bottom of the plane with all the other luggage.”
Your dad chuckles. He thinks you’re the cleverest boy in the world. I do, too.
You come closer and kiss my head, expression serious. “I can’t believe your mom said no. I thought for sure—” You break off, sighing.
“I know.” I look away when my throat starts to close up. I’ve been crying so much lately.
I am so in love with you, Gavin Davis. I love how messy your hair is and how you wear the same three outfits all the time. I love how I can hear you playing guitar when I walk up to your house. I love that you’re the only person who knows that I’m unbelievably ticklish on the inside of my elbow.
“It’s criminal,” your dad agrees.
Your parents are taking you to Hawaii for ten days and they offered to pay my way as a graduation present to you and my mom said no. Hawaii. A tropical beach and hardly any clothes and you you you.
It is criminal. I hate my mom. I know that’s a horrible thing to say, but it’s true. I think she’s jealous of me, that I have a guy that doesn’t walk all over me, that I’m young and thin and happy. That I have lots and lots of orgasms. Sometimes I’ll catch her looking at me with real dislike. And she’s become more critical of me lately. I have fat rolls in my stomach when I hunch forward, I don’t have nice enough knees for short dresses and skirts, my favorite color (red) makes me look pasty. She even got pissed when I weighed myself and realized I’d lost a couple pounds. Just wait until your metabolism slows down, she said. You take after your dad and look at the women in his family.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I say. I’m practicing having a stiff upper lip. Chin up, as Beth would say.
“That’s the spirit,” your mom says as she places a Coke in front of me—she knows how soda deprived I am at home, how it’s considered a luxury on my family’s grocery list.
“Thanks, Anna,” I say. I like that she refuses to let me call her Mrs. Davis. You’re one of the family now, she says. He loves you, she says, so we love you. It’s that simple.
And it really is. Your parents have become parents to me, too. They give me advice, they worry about me, they feed me. Your mom even insists she and I have girl time together. Manicures or lunch. It’s all the things I hear about other moms doing, but didn’t know they actually did. When you told them what happened the morning I missed my SATs, your mom actually started crying. You made me promise that from now on, you’re my ride for anything important.
She squeezes my hand. “When you two get married, we won’t have to deal with this crazy anymore.”
By now I’m used to your family’s openness, but I had no idea your parents approved of me that much.
You smile at the surprise on my face. “Yeah, we talk about you behind your back” is all you say.
I blush. You will always be able to make me blush, no matter what. You plop down next to me and bury your face in my shoulder. It’s been days since we’ve made out, since we’ve gotten to touch each other. One more chance, Mom said, after the night The Giant took my summer away. Next time, you’re breaking up with him.
I think I might die if I had to break up with you. The thought of another girl in your arms, lying beneath you—it kills me.
“Anna, Grace’s parents aren’t crazy.” Your dad looks from your miserable face to mine. “Okay, maybe a little.”