License to Spill Page 7

  I need to clean off Audri’s lens residue before the value depreciates. I need to emancipate my knee from Duffy. I excuse myself from the booth.

  Lie #34: I touched a gum wad under the table. Gotta wash my hands.

  There’s a 25¢ machine outside the bathroom. It’s pushing scented erasers, sparkly key chains, rainbow stickers. That kind of thing.

  I put in a quarter and turn. Out rolls a clear plastic ball. There’s a purple ring inside. It says Best Friend in yellow bubble letters. I put it in the front pocket of my jeans. I want to give it to Audri when we are alone. To express my lo-like.

  I go back to the table. Audri says they already ordered, then stands so I can slide back in. I’m knee-to-knee with Duffy again. He knows it’s awkward and chexts. That’s my sugar glider’s made-up word for checking texts. Chexting.

  If any other girl ever said gimme a minute while I chext, I’d give them more than a minute. I’d give her an eternity. But Audri makes it work.

  The Flames sit across from us. They’re looking at us and laughing. Duffy is chexting and doesn’t notice. My nervous system does.

  My pits itch.

  My intestines beat like a heart.

  The taste of Susan B. Anthony dollars fills my mouth.

  I move my knee as far away from Duffy’s as possible: one-eighth of an inch.

  They yuk it up even harder.

  If you’ve ever been looked at and laughed at for three years straight you know how real this is.

  I try to remember what Dr. Lloyd taught me.

  1) Get out of your head, Daniel.

  2) Look around the room. Name five objects. Five colors. Five sounds.

  3) It’s just a panic attack. It will pass.

  It does. The panic, I mean. Not the yukking up. So I rest my elbow on Audri’s shoulder to prove I’m not getting bromantic on their teammate.

  The desserts come. A lot of them.

  Sheridan attacks the Oreo cheesecake.

  She asks Duffy why he’s staring at her.

  He says because he never sees girls eat. Sheridan stops chewing but doesn’t spit the cake out. It just sits there in her open mouth while she looks at Duffy and goes, is that a bad thing?

  Duffy says, no way! It’s the best. It means you have passion.

  Smooth. No wonder girls sniff him.

  Audri nuzzles her cheek into my arm. Her glasses poke into my flesh. I don’t care.

  She feeds me a bite of warm apple cobbler.

  I feed her a spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream.

  She feeds some back to me. It gets on my lip. She licks it off.

  We bake trout.

  Right there.

  In front of everyone.

  It’s so tacky.

  I don’t care.

  I can’t stop.

  That 25¢ plastic ball feels like it’s going to burst through the front of my jeans and shoot clear across the room. I take it out and stuff it down the back of the booth.

  The bill comes.

  Audri says she has me covered because I barely ate anything. I know she’s just trying to be nice because she thinks I’m poor. But I’m a liar not a mooch and insist on paying.

  I pull a brown paper bag out of my backpack. It’s filled with pennies. Rolls and rolls of them. I say I find them on the streets. Money is money.

  LIE #35: There is an entire closet in the Legacy Hygienics Mini Mavericks club filled with penny rolls. Kids use them to make wishes in the koi ponds. I use them to make friends.

  We’re walking home. It’s raining and dark and the streetlights glare like Paris. It’s the perfect time to give her the lo-like ring. Only I forgot it in the booth.

  So I give her a roll of pennies instead.

  She says she loves them.

  I say I love her.

  She asks if I mean it.

  I say yes.

  She smiles. She says she loves me too. She makes me promise that I won’t break her heart.

  I promise.

  LIE #36.

  10.25.12

  INT. THE SPENCER HOME—BATHROOM—NIGHT.

  SHERIDAN locks the door then turns to the looking glass to address her reflection. Correction, her soul.

  Mom says you seem angry at the world lately. Is that true? (SHERIDAN to her caramel-colored eyes.) It’s okay. Take your time. Go deep…

  (BEAT)

  Mom’s accusation would be true if this was last month. Because I’m angry at Audri and last month Audri was my world. But not anymore. Do you hear that, soul? NOT. ANY. MORE. Today’s public display of affection was more like a public display of rejection. Toward me.

  The whole point of the double hang was to get Audri away from Octavia so we could make new memories. Would I have preferred a one-on-one? O’course. But without the jaws of life there’s no separating her and Jagger so I included him. I’m supportive like that. Another thing about me? I’d never compete against Audri for the Most Attention from a Boy award. But the second Duffy said I’m passionate she one-upped me with a makeout. As if that’s passion. It’s day-class-ay if you ask me!

  Anyway, Audri, if that made you appear passionate I certainly didn’t notice. I was too busy chexting messages I didn’t have. My eyes needed to make an emergency landing on something before they crashed into Duffy. What if he thought I wanted to make out too? What if he thought I didn’t? What if he heard what you told me when we were putting on our coats—that something of Jagger’s was pressing against your leg while you were mauling each other?

  Cheeses, Audri, did you not see him getting smelt-up by that put-the-ho-in-hostess? Do you know how hard it is to channel a blind person when someone is doing that to your crush? Duffy is superlatively cute. He’s on the Varsity team. He started wearing cologne!

  DUFFY. HAS. OPTIONS!

  And there you R (yes, it’s a pun for rated R), reminding him—and half the guys on his team—that he’s with a rated P.G. (for Prude Girl). Yes, Audri, you took the R-bar, hooked it to a gigantic crane, and raised it high above my head. Duffy knows it, too. We haven’t reached sugar glider status yet but the chemistry has been undeniable. We were getting there. Now, notsomuch. Look what he gave me!

  SHERIDAN lifts her hand to the mirror. A purple plastic eyesore saying Best Friend comes into frame.

  If this doesn’t state-example-explain his intentions in perfect paragraph form (only with a ring instead of a paragraph), nothing will. What I wanted was to be his leading lady, but he sees me as more of the sidekick in a buddy movie.

  I guess I need a new best friend anyway, so… lucky me.

  END SCENE.

  Thursday

  Feeling = Brains should be able to throw up like bodies.

  Then I could flush my memory of Rosco’s down the bowl and be done with it. But no. I just get to feel sick for the rest of my life because I needed the orphan to rescue me.

  Feeling = UGH! Thinking about it literally makes me say that. Out loud.

  UGH!

  The whole double date thing felt a little slick to begin with but Sheridan is chill so I figured Audri would be too. She’s not. The girl must sink a lot of ships because she’s all loose lips. First she was filibustering about X Factor like this new season is going to help us win the war on terrorism. Jagger and I are just sitting there like two dudes tied to a radio that won’t turn off. He probably doesn’t even know what X Factor is. I’m not exactly a fan either but Mandy and Bubbie Libby are, and Demi Lovato is kind of hot so I tolerate it. But that’s the last thing a guy wants to admit while his teammates are killing themselves laughing because the hostess announced that he’s wearing cologne.

  UGH!

  I know Jagger can’t take it either because at one point he leaves to go to the bathroom. So now I’m tied to the radio alone and getting texts from the guys complimenting me on my “perfume,” and I want out. I’m about to tell Sheridan my mom needs help with something so I can leave but the food comes. Then I’m glad I stayed because Sheridan is eating in a way that
Mandy, Morgan, and Megan never would and it makes me happy. Not that she’s some turkey I’m trying to plump up for Thanksgiving. I just think it’s cool that she doesn’t have to talk about stuff that doesn’t matter and I wanted to tell her that because Bubbie Libby said girls like boys who appreciate girls.

  Feeling = Or something like that.

  Anyway, I told her that eating meant she had passion. I’m not exactly sure how that adds up but Amelia always says it and it made Sheridan smile so I felt pretty good about things. Then I felt awful again because Audri and her loose lips were back on the scene. Only this time instead of filibustering my ears, she was filibustering Jagger’s face.

  It’s not like I’ve never thought about kissing Sheridan because I have, but I wasn’t about to do it in a public pie shop, especially with all my ex-friends watching. But she was obviously hurt because she wouldn’t look at me and when Mandy doesn’t look at Gardner it means he did something wrong.

  UGH!

  So I’m trying to think of what to do but of course all I come up with is—run!

  That’s when I felt it. Jagger’s knee knocking my knee. Like he was trying to tell me something. So I look down all sneakily, as if he’s trying to pass a note in class. Then he takes something out of his pocket and jams it down the back of the booth. I slip it into my hand. It’s a plastic ball with a ring inside.

  Feeling = Jagger is smooth.

  Living on the streets must have sharpened his senses because the guy knew I needed to make things right with Sheridan and he helped me out. Not like a buddy, like a brother. Or Yoda.

  I waited until we were walking home.

  ME: Things were kind of weird in there.

  SHERIDAN: Tell me about it.

  ME: I know.

  (We watch a car drive through a puddle like it matters.)

  ME: Anyway, I want you to know, you know, where I’m coming from and…

  SHERIDAN: And what?

  ME: And that kind of thing.

  SHERIDAN: O-kay…

  ME: So, here.

  I give her the plastic ball. She opens it. I kind of laugh because I didn’t realize the ring said Best Friend.

  Feeling = Like a bit of a One Direction dude telling a girl I’m into her and that she’s my best friend at the same time. But I guess she is my best friend because she’s my only friend so…

  SHERIDAN: Wow.

  Feeling = She was so speechless she barely talked the rest of the way home.

  Feeling = I owe Jagger big-time.

  Friday, October 26, 2012

  No, John Lennon, you’re not the only one. I too imagined all the people living life in peace. At least for today, the day I, Lily Bader-Huffman, turn fifteen. But alack, I’m a dreamer too.

  Do you know how agonizing it’s been watching Blake delete me from his life and replace me with Vanessa? What am I saying? Of course you do. You had your share of drama with the Beatles but you broke up with them. Don’t worry, John, I’m not going to take the easy route and blame Yoko because Mom has brainwashed me against speculative gossip. But I will say this: You know why the band broke up. You know what the fighting was about. You died knowing. Lucky you.

  Me? I’ve been in a cold war for ten days, frozen out by my enemies for no apparent reason. I’ve been desperate to wave the white flag and offer my pride in exchange for answers. Instead, I held firm, pretending I was too busy to care. When really I was certain that whatever I did to get Blake’s slim-fit indigo J.Crew denims in a bunch would be forgiven on the anniversary of my life. Or at the very least, explained in a heartfelt card. So I held my tongue, blinked back my tears, and hoped that if I could just make it to today…

  By last period Blake still hadn’t wished me happy birthday and I panicked. It was the only special day I’d have for another year. If not now, when? The window of forgiveness was starting to close. If I didn’t force it open I’d be left outside forever.

  I followed Blake to English and begged him to talk to me. He refused so I followed him into class. Then I sat on his desk. He told me to go away in that angry whisper of his. I angry-whispered back, “Never.” I didn’t care if Ms. Silver sent me to the principal’s office. I didn’t care about anything but peace and I was ready to fight for it.

  Blake realized this once Ms. Silver started teaching and I was still there. He nudged the small of my back. Go.

  I readjusted my posture. No.

  Ms. Silver tilted her head like a confused dog. She glared at me. I glared back.

  “Can I help you, Lily?” she asked.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “But Blake can. Is it okay if I talk to him in private for a minute? It’s urgent.”

  A few guys made that stupid ooooh sound like Blake was about to get some. Others laughed. Ms. Silver rolled her eyes at their immaturity and said, “Ahhhh, the lost art of communication… a perfect segue to today’s discussion on Cyrano de Bergerac.” She waved us toward the door like that cool usher at the Independent who helped us sneak into the Fellini festival.

  Once we were in the hall I began to cry. I couldn’t help it. It was the first time I had seen Blake’s eyes in almost two weeks and they seemed dead and hard in a way they’d never been before.

  “Has Vanessa turned you into a zombie?” I asked, wiping my cheeks.

  “That’s what you had to ask me?”

  “No. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  He put his hands on his hips and sighed like we’d been through this a thousand times.

  “Seriously, Blake, I have no idea what this is about. Are you mad because I was gone for six days? Because that wasn’t my fault and you know it.”

  He stared blankly down the hall.

  “So that’s it? I get pulled out of school and cease to exist. Replaced by some girl you didn’t even want to hang out with last week? Better get a harness and some carabineers for all that social climbing.”

  Blake began wheezing. “Yeah, Lily. This is about social climbing.”

  “Then what?” The tears came back. “Tell me, because so far zombie is my only lead.”

  “Try outed by my best friend and I’d say you were on to something.”

  Outed?

  “Stop trying to act, Lily. Your attempt at shock makes you look constipated.”

  “Act? I’m not trying to act. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Really. Then why did Mandy Duffy come up to me last week and ask for a ‘gay guy’s take’ on her mullet skirt?”

  “What? She asked you that?”

  Blake took a hit off his asthma inhaler. “Yeah.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘If you want a gay guy’s take on your mullet skirt, ask a gay guy.’ Then I bolted. I’ve been avoiding her ever since.”

  “I know how she feels,” I mumbled.

  “I’m not avoiding you, Lily, I’m divorcing you.”

  “But—”

  “You told Duffy, didn’t you?”

  My lungs tightened.

  “I had to. He asked if we were a couple. I wanted him to know we weren’t so he’d ask me out.”

  Blake took a quick hit off his inhaler “And how’d that work for you?” He hurried back into class before I could answer.

  I stood there dumbfounded for the next five minutes. How would I survive Pub without Blake? How would I survive anything without Blake? Had I really betrayed his trust for a date with a non-Jewish guy who ignored the birthday banner I taped to my front door? Who gave an ironic Best Friend love ring to Sheridan Spencer last night? Yes. Yes I had. And I hated myself for it.

  I slumped to the cold checkerboard tiles and sobbed into my knees.

  A pregnant woman appeared above me and offered me her swollen hand.

  “Come,” she said. “We can talk about it in my office.”

  I had no idea who she was or if this “office” was even in New Jersey, but she hugged me when I stood so I said yes.

  My pregnant angel was Mrs. Martin,
the student adviser. A compassionate woman who eventually agreed to hook me up with a backbreaking work schedule. One that would leave no time to miss the friends I no longer had. The goal being I skip a grade or two so I can graduate early and go to college, where I belong. All I have to do is check in with her every week to prove I’m not losing my mind or peeing Red Bull.

  I thanked Mrs. Martin for making me feel so much better. But the moment I left her office I felt horrible again, because guess who was sitting in the waiting room? Vanessa!

  I was so shocked I accidentally said, “Hey.” She didn’t say a word back.

  Now I’m in the library, where I will spend the next eight months of my life gathering dust with everything else in here that’s not digital. Jagger is here too.

  He’s returning a book on exotic animals. He reminds me of a lizard. Always looking around nervously. He had the right idea. Only instead of emancipating from my parents I’d cut ties with my birthday. Then today would have felt like a regular disaster instead of unassailable proof why I, Lily Bader-Huffman, never should have been born.

  Friday

  Brandy the hostess must have told her boyfriend about WhispHer for Him because some dude named Daniel Ponnowitz just wasted $38.85 on three bottles.

  Feeling = $2,035.15 to go before I’m out of the red.

  October 26th

  I’ve always been hard-core Mach74 about Beni’s. I didn’t care how or why my family got there as long as we did.

  Ver? That’s the lie I told myself.

  It turns out I do care how and why we get there. I care a shedload. So much so, that I should be marched into the town square, stripped of my Mach-status, and have the video go viral.75 You see, Journal, we went to Beni’s last night. Mom and Dad didn’t argue once. And I still had a Richter breakdown in the bathroom. Why? Because we weren’t there to celebrate me.

  It was all about A.J. getting his job back at Spencer BMW. Nary a single toast was made to the girl who cracked the case76 or the one who forced Sheridan to set the record straight77 or the one who persuaded A.J. to get over his anger and accept Mr. Spencer’s generous offer.78 Nary a one. And I’m not okay with that.

  I started rattling off some of my B-list accomplishments so I could inject some sweetness into this very bitter dish79. Praise from a teacher with tenure… Acing the endangered animals quiz on the Girl Scout website… Washing the recyclables… Anything to resuscitate my dying status as an overachiever. I even considered announcing my romantic victory but it’s not official until we Blake-out, and undeserved praise would have left me feeling emptier than no praise at all. I needed something real to keep me from suspecting what my roiling stomach already knew. That my eight-year reign as Queen Outstanding was over. But I had nothing. My Instagram likes are down by 6 percent, my Facebook comments are scant, my SWAP bracelets are still being held by U.S. Customs, I haven’t received a single compliment since Blake asked where my green shirt ends and my eyes begin, my motivational Tweets are not being retweeted, and my grades are all F’s80. I have fallen off the Google Map and landed next to a pile of washed-up reality stars, injured athletes, and recalled dog food.