“Damn,” Seth says, taking a long drink from his soda.
We talk for a while in the parking lot—I tell him how my dad died when I was a baby and how it’s just me and my mom with my grandparents next door. He tells me that his parents are nice enough, just occupied with their art, and that in addition to playing football he wrote a music column for his old high school newspaper. It’s an easy conversation, each of us stepping on the ends of the other’s sentences, wanting to chime in or add something or agree with something. My body hums with the sure sense that I’m the coolest girl in the world. Sitting there in the front seat, the fluorescent lights of the Jack in the Box parking lot shining on us like the moon on steroids, it’s weird to remember that this afternoon in the hallway when Seth asked me to hang out I could barely make eye contact with him because I was so anxious.
After a while, Seth takes my wrappers and empty cup and gets out of the car to throw them away. I lick the salty tips of my fingers as he walks back toward the car, and I realize that the night is coming to a close. It’s 9:30.
Seth suggests we head back, and as he drives toward my neighborhood, the Jack in the Box parking lot disasppearing behind us, my breathing starts to tighten up and my heart begins to hammer.
Seth Acosta is going to kiss me. I know it.
As he pulls onto my street, I glance into the rearview mirror, pretending I’m checking for something in my eye. My lipstick is still holding steady. Is that a good thing or a bad thing when you kiss someone?
Seth slides into the driveway. Here, in the inky darkness of his car, he’s going to kiss me. Remember this, Vivian. Remember everything about this.
I wait for him to shift the car into park. How can you kiss with the car in drive?
But he doesn’t shift the car into park. He only turns to me and says, “I had a lot of fun hanging out with you tonight, Vivian.”
It’s definitive, the way he says it. There’s no question that this is The End of the night.
“I had fun, too,” I say, forcing a smile while dying inside. “Thanks for asking me to hang out.”
“Honestly,” he continues, “I haven’t really, you know, made a lot of friends since I got here, so, you know … this was really cool. I’m going to check out some of those bands you told me about. Especially more of that Bikini Kill one.” He sort of looks over my shoulder when he says it. Like maybe he can’t wait for me to leave.
“Cool,” I say, my hand on the door handle and my hammering heart twisting hard.
I haven’t really made a lot of friends since I got here.
Friends.
FRIENDS.
“See you Monday?” he asks.
“Yeah, see you then,” I answer, itching to get out of the Honda and into the safety of my bedroom.
“And I promise I won’t say a word about Moxie. I mean it.”
“Thanks,” I answer, “I really appreciate it.” I get out, slam the car door, and race up the front steps, grateful my mom is still at the game and the house is empty. Seth waits until I’ve let myself in and then drives away, and as I step into the living room and shut the front door behind me, I can’t help it. I start crying. Not heaving sobs or anything like that. Just a few warm tears peek out of my eyes and slip down my cheeks.
“Don’t be stupid, Viv,” I say out loud. “You still had a great time tonight, right?” Joan Jett saunters in at the sound of my voice, purring as she loops herself around my legs. I pick her up and bury my face into her fur. Then I put her down and get ready for bed, eagerly sliding under my covers, wrapping self-pity around myself with the blankets.
The truth is I did have a great time with Seth. And maybe we will hang out again. But I don’t want to just hang out with Seth. I want to know what it feels like to have a boy’s lips on mine. I want to press my entire body up against his and kiss him. I want a hot, cool, smart boyfriend, not a hot, cool, smart boy friend.
As I climb into bed, my phone buzzes from my nightstand. I reach for it, hoping for the tiniest second that it’s Seth.
It’s Claudia.
We got our ASSES KICKED tonight—lost 42–7 … but who cares HOW WAS YOUR DATE?!?!?!?
I know Claudia will hate me for not responding, but I toss my phone onto the carpet and slide deeper under the covers, hoping I’m asleep before my mom gets home. I don’t think I could stand one more person asking me how the night went.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Claudia and I are in Claudia’s bed staring up at the ceiling. It’s the morning after one of our Saturday night sleepovers, and she’s listening to me talk over my “date” with Seth for the ten millionth time. It’s been a few weeks since I was left kissless in his car, but that hasn’t stopped me from analyzing the night over and over. At least Claudia humors me. A little.
“Maybe he was just intimidated by you,” she says, stretching her arms out and yawning.
“I feel like that’s what you’re supposed to say so I don’t feel bad for being rejected.”
“Vivian, come on.”
“Well, I’m serious. I was sending him signals. I was alerting him to my lips. So what the hell happened?”
Claudia rolls her eyes and yawns again. A buzz interrupts us.
“Hey,” she says, nudging me. “Your phone.”
I reach toward Claudia’s nightstand. It’s my mom.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie,” she says. Something in her voice sounds weird. Off.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, everything’s okay.”
“Good,” I say. I peer over at Claudia, who is picking at her cuticles.
“The reason I’m calling … well, this is awkward, but I know I can be up front with you, Viv,” my mom begins, sort of clearing her throat.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Well, John is here.”
Nothing else really needs to be said. My mother knows I’m old enough to understand that John didn’t just show up at our house at nine in the morning to catch up on old times. And I know she knows I know. I squeeze my eyes shut as the idea of my mother and John having Sexual Intercourse invades my brain.
“Uh, okay?” I say, my voice flat. What else is there to say?
“Anyway, we’re getting ready to go out to get a bite to eat, but I wasn’t sure when you were coming home and I didn’t want you to be … surprised. I’m sorry, Vivvy, I didn’t know if you would still be sleeping or walking home when I called or what.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “We’re not sleeping, we’re awake. I’ll see you when I get home.”
And then I do something I’ve never done in my life. I hang up on my mom without waiting for a response.
As I fill Claudia in, she squirms appropriately at the idea of my mother and John Doing It. “It’s just so gross,” I say. “And I think she could do a lot better.”
“Is this guy that bad?” Claudia asks.
I don’t want to have to make my case to Claudia. She should be on my side automatically. So I just sigh dramatically and say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice quiet. “Sorry.”