“Thanks,” I say. Grace is still blond and pretty, but she doesn’t wear too much makeup like she did freshman year. From what I know, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. But she has that confidence about her, from knowing other girls—not me, but some—admire her, look up to her. Envy her.
“You must be so happy!” She’s still beaming, flashing big teeth that are so white she must use those whitening strips. Maybe I look blank or confused, because she continues: “I mean, obviously you’re happy. But it’s just—it’s just so wonderful.”
“Yes, it is,” is all I can manage to say.
Right then a few of Grace’s friends come and hover around us. I know these girls, but I’ve never really talked to any of them before.
“Come sit with us,” Grace says. “Can you?”
I look toward my usual table but don’t see Chita or anyone else. We’ve sat at the same table together every year of high school. I guess Grace sees me hesitate.
“Please,” she says, sounding like she did years ago, when she begged me to try out with her. “It’s been too long,” she says.
“Okay, sure,” I say, because how can I say no?
“Good,” she says, sounding almost relieved.
You don’t switch lunch tables. You just don’t. But my feet keep walking along with Grace and her squad. I sit down at their table and it’s like they’ve always had this seat open for me, saving it for when I was ready. I feel jumbled when they all talk to me at once.
“You were so calm and collected on TV,” this girl named Margo says. Then another girl says, “You looked really pretty.”
“You have to tell us everything about it,” Grace adds, flipping her hair aside, like I’m some boy she’s flirting with. It’s nice, I realize, that Grace is talking to me like no time has passed.
“It was crazy,” I say, surprised that they’re all looking at me like I have something important to say. “They had people to do our makeup and hair, and tons of clothes to choose from.” I go on and on about it, and they all sit there like what I’m telling them is the most electrifying thing they’ve ever heard in their lives.
“I grew up with Beth,” Grace says to the group. “I knew Sam when he was little. I think he had a crush on me.”
“He did.” I laugh, remembering suddenly those times when she slept over and Sam would bug us.
“I mean, seeing him on TV, I can’t believe how much he’s grown up. It’s just such a miracle he’s back,” Grace says, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
“Omigod, tell us about Helen Winters,” this girl Aimee says. She’s a cheerleader. They all are, I realize.
“She’s really old. Like, grandmother old,” I say, which gets a few laughs. Right then I see Chita enter the cafeteria, heading to our usual table. I look back at the girls before me. “But she was very nice to us. They put us up in this fancy hotel, like near Central Park. A lot of celebs stay there.”
“Omigod, did you see anyone famous?” Margo asks.
“Well, we were there just for a little while, so I didn’t see anyone. But they told me, like, Selena Gomez and Ryan Gosling and a bunch of other people stay there all the time.”
“So cool!”
I glance over to my old table, and I see Chita staring over at me, confused. Darla sits down and I see Chita say something to her as she watches me. I turn back to the cheerleaders. Margo’s speaking now, talking about her trip to New York, how they saw so-and-so on the street, but I’m not really listening to the words. I’m just nodding, smiling, trying to act like I belong.
“What sights did you see?” Aimee asks. “And what shows?”
“Did you shop?” Margo asks.
“Well, it was a quick trip. But Mom says we’ll go back.”
“Your mom is so nice,” Grace says.
My mom, nice?
“Come with me to get some food?” she asks. “I’m starving.”
“Sure,” I say, following her to the food line. It’s like I’ve gone back in time to freshman year, and this is the first day, and this is how things should have gone.
We stop at the salad bar and before we load our plates, Grace looks at me, suddenly serious. “This is nice,” she says. “Talking to you.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I feel . . .” she starts to say, then stops. “It’s just . . . It’s been too long.”
“Yeah,” I say, the hardness I’d felt for Grace melting away inside, like whatever happened between us, all those years ago, doesn’t matter anymore.
Once we get our food, I sit back down at the table with Grace, careful to avoid looking at Chita and the girls. I mean, is it so bad that I want to re-establish an old friendship? It doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them. I just think back to something Mom said, on the plane coming home from New York, when Earl and Sam were dozing off in the row in front of us. “When we get back home, we’ll make a fresh start. A new beginning.”
Mom made it sound so easy. But maybe she had a point. Because that’s what I’m doing now, I think. Making a new beginning for myself.
===
When the bell rings for the last period of the day, I walk out to the soccer field, dressed in my normal clothes. I’m going to chat with Coach, to see if she thinks I can work out with the team. My ankle feels better, and it might be nice to just be outside, so I can clear my head and not think about Sam or anything. On my way, Donal jogs up to me. He’s already in his cleats.
“Hey, Beth,” he says, slowing down to match my pace.
“Hey.” I feel my face flush a little and look away. The last time I was this close to him, we were kissing.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he says. His accent has faded over the years, but it’s still there, so glad sounds like glod, and back like bock. “I was worried about you. I left you some messages.”
“Yeah, things have been sort of crazy.”
“I bet. I mean, your brother, Sam. Your brother! That’s so incredible. I just wanted to . . . To tell you I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’d never talked to Donal about Sam, but he must have known about it—everyone did at some point. Then they filed it away and it didn’t matter. I was just Beth to them. But not anymore. Now everyone is so concerned. Everyone wants hugs. It’s like they all want me to break down so they can comfort me.
“We missed you at lunch today.”
“I was there.”
“Yeah, I saw you. With Grace and those girls.”
“So?” I stop walking. “What about it?”
He stops and holds up his hands. “Nothing.”
I start walking again.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, so sick of having to tell everyone that. We’re almost at the field. I can tell he wants to ask me something else but is holding back.
“So, that day at my house?” he says, sounding hesitant, looking off toward the field. He swallows, his Adam’s apple poking out sharply.
“The day I found out about Sam?” I say. I was a different person then. A different Beth.