Then Everything Happens at Once, page 14
“Just forget it,” I repeat.
“No,” he says, but I don’t know how to interpret his response. No, what?
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” I say. “Being around you makes me feel like shit in all the ways—like, next-level shit. I’m tired of it.”
“Wait . . .” He’s dazed, his voice trailing off.
He’s so beautiful, he makes me want to cry.
“You and Lara can just go off together to frolic in the fucking meadow and leave me out of it.”
I turn back toward JJ’s, passing by the convenience store. There are hushed voices to my right, and I turn to see two guys standing beside a truck I saw pull in earlier. It takes a moment for me to clue in that one of them, some skinny guy with emo-style sideswept bangs, looks familiar. The other one has his back to me.
The emo guy locks eyes with me and recognition passes over his features. “I know you.”
I nod.
“Well, I guess we all know each other, then,” Pen says, turning around.
“Oh, hi,” I say, not having realized she was there. Awkwardness settles over us, and the silence is broken by Freddie dropping an F bomb on his way past, headed for his car. I point to the skinny guy, desperate to pull the focus away from Freddie. “You’re Tristan, right? You’re friends with Garrett.”
“Shizz, man. Not anymore!” Tristan says.
“You know Garrett?” Pen says to me.
I nod, then I point to JJ’s behind me. “I have to go. My friend’s in there.”
“Thought that was your friend,” Pen says, pointing to Freddie’s car as it pulls out of the lot. “The dude frolicking through the parking lot.”
“He’s not my friend now.”
“Sounded like more than a friend thing, though.”
“Well, it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.”
I shrug and head inside to fill Rianne in on some of the details. Most of what was said—like the part where I, once again, threw my feelings at Freddie—I keep to myself.
Late that night, I get a text from Lara.
[Lara] I know you hate me now, but please don’t tell Trey.
Telling Trey is the scenario I will play out in my mind before I go to sleep, enjoying the destruction it would cause. Loving the way it would instantly make Freddie and Lara regret having gone there. Relishing the idea of the two of them losing their closest friends, too.
[Baylee] I won’t. But please stop talking to me.
I haven’t decided if I’m mean enough to tell Trey, but what I do know is that telling him would make it real. I don’t want that.
Twenty-Two
The week unfolds in a not-entirely-awful way. Rianne and I spend our lunch periods working on a group assignment for English class. Lara manages to avoid everyone by blending in with Taylor’s crew, which is the most predictable thing ever. The only reason I’m able to keep coming here, day after day, is Trey. His presence means Lara and Freddie cannot come near each other at school, which means I’m not subjected to witnessing their usual flirty, sexy expressions being aimed at each other. It’s like it’s not even happening.
All anyone is talking about in the hallways is the coronavirus.
“Why do you look so sad today?” Rianne asks me on Thursday, bumping her shoulder against mine in English class.
“Just kind of realizing my birthday is tomorrow, and I’m going to spend it sitting at home, staring at the wall.”
“I told you—I can call in sick!”
“Don’t bother. You could get in trouble if your parents find out,” I say. “We can just hang out Saturday after you get off work.”
“I’ll bake you a cake!”
“Can you do red velvet?”
She considers this for a moment. “I can add red food coloring to vanilla cake?”
“That’ll work.”
Class breaks for lunch, and I head for the bathroom, mostly to check my latest DMs from Alex in total privacy.
[Alex] So ur bday is tomorrow. U prob have plans already but I thought . . . would u maybe want to come out with me, Pen, and Blake?
[Baylee] YES!
[Alex] OK, awesome. 😁
[Baylee] Where?
[Alex] I was thinking Toronto. If u feel like going to the Village, that is.
[Baylee] Which village?
[Alex] THE Village, with a capital V. The queer area, downtown.
My eyes widen with the realization that these are real plans. This is me heading downtown with older, cooler people.
[Baylee] I would love that. How do we get there? GO train?
[Alex] Not at all. I drove my dad to the airport yesterday, so I’ve got his car.
[Baylee] What kind of car is it?
[Alex] A big, black SUV. We’ll be riding in style. 😎
I breathe a sigh of seat-belt-related relief and float out of the bathroom with my head deep in the envisioning of this very legit birthday outing. Then the universe decides to put Freddie right in my path.
“Hey,” he says, stepping closer.
“Okay,” I say.
We stand there, me trying to seem nonchalant to the point of having zero reaction, him staring at me like I’m being next-level immature.
“You know what?” he says. “Forget it.”
“Okay, sure.”
None of it will ever be forgotten.
I ride the city bus home and arrive to find my mother instead of the worker who does late afternoons with Rebecca. Mom has the news on loud enough so she can still hear it from anywhere on the main floor of the house, which is typical these days. There are grocery bags on the floor by the entrance, waiting to be carried to the kitchen, but she’s just standing in front of the TV like something major distracted her. I’m about to ask her what’s up when my phone starts buzzing.
[Rianne] OMG did you hear? MEGA LONG MARCH BREAK!!!!!!
[Baylee] What do you mean?
[Rianne] Check out the news. NOW.
“Mom?” I call, grabbing a couple of heavy plastic bags. “How come you’re home so early?”
“Juliana let me know stores are crazy busy all of a sudden, so I left early to stock up on a few things.”
“What’s the March break thing about? Rianne texted me.”
“They’ve just announced that schools will be closed for two weeks after March break.”
Inside, I’m swelling with excitement, but I keep my voice level when I ask, “So no school from, like, March sixteenth to . . . sometime in April? How come?”
“This is not good,” Mom says, looking like she’s talking to the TV more than she’s talking to me. “There’s a press conference, and the premier and government people are assuring everyone that we can all still go on vacation and have a great time, but now they’ve realized young people are catching corona, so schools are going to shut down to try and stop the spread. Seems a little ridiculous to tell people to go on with their travel plans, if things are progressing to the point of closing schools.”
“How young?”
“What?” Mom turns to face me. “Oh, healthy young people—children. Which means it could spread in schools and day cares.”
“So we’re off for three weeks?”
No school means these people—Lara, Freddie, Garrett, Taylor—they no longer exist. Not for a long while, anyway. This is perfect timing, and I just feel so zen about things now. I understand this is the wrong thing to be feeling, so I make sure to keep my face very neutral.
“What do they expect parents to do with day cares and schools closed?” Mom says.
“I wonder what Freddie’s mom is going to do.”
Talking about him makes me check my phone, like I’m expecting him to have texted, even though I don’t want him to.
[Baylee] Did you hear about school being closed?
[Alex] Yeah. My boss called to see if I can give him more availability. They’re super short-staffed all of a sudden.
[Baylee] We can still go out tomorrow, right?
[Alex] I guess? I mean, it’s just schools and day cares that are closing.
“Mom?” She heads over to meet me in the kitchen, carrying the last of the grocery bags. “I can go out tomorrow, right?”
“Go out where?”
“Just . . . here,” I say, figuring my mother would be a hard sell on a Friday night in downtown Toronto during regular times. “Bookworm or Hot Mugs for karaoke night.”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m sorry, but if they’re closing schools to prevent people your age from spreading the virus, I’m not letting you go hang out in a crowded coffee bar.”
“Okay, but what if it’s not a crowded place?”
“I would prefer not, Boss,” Mom says, distracted with the stacking of canned goods in the annoying corner cupboard we can barely reach.
“But, Mom, it’s my birthday.”
“I thought you were getting together with Rianne on Saturday,” she says. “I got a cake for tomorrow. I thought we would spend it together, safe at home, watching a movie.”
“Well, Rianne got the night off,” I say. “It’s my birthday, Mom.”
“Just Rianne?”
“Yes.”
“Bookworm or her house—that’s it,” Mom says. “I mean it.”
I nod, then fire off a text to Rianne as I shove boxes of pasta and crackers into the appropriate cupboard.
[Baylee] Can you cover for me tomorrow?
[Rianne] Why, what’s up?
[Baylee] I’m sort of going out for my birthday. Downtown.
[Rianne] With who?! Why can’t I come?
[Baylee] Because you’re working!
[Rianne] Fine. But with WHO?!
[Baylee] If I tell you the story, will you pretend you’re with me tomorrow night?
[Rianne] If you tell me ALL the details, I’ll even make a fake IG post about you being at my house.
[Baylee] Deal!
[Rianne] Video-chat me.
After the groceries are put away, I run upstairs and into my walk-in closet. I close the door and sit cross-legged on the floor. I slip my earphones in, then video-chat Rianne.
“Tell me!” Rianne says, her voice too loud in my ears, so I lower my headset volume.
“So I kind of met this person—this girl—from Bookworm.”
Rianne’s mouth opens wide. “Yes! This is juicy. What happened? Oh my god! Wait—where does Freddie fit into all this?”
“Nowhere. He’s nothing,” I say. “So anyway—we hung out once.”
“Where? What did you do? What does she look like?” Rianne’s face comes close to the screen. “I need the details.”
So I tell the story of meeting Alex at Crestonvale Square. There are different kinds of butterflies within as I realize I’m the one with the juicy story to share. I can almost see myself sitting next to Rianne, listening to me talk, completely riveted.
“Baylee! You went on a date with her!”
“No, I didn’t,” I say. “It was literally our first time hanging out.”
“That was a date!” She laughs. “Do you not know what a date is?”
I shrug because no. I don’t.
“And tomorrow is date number two!”
“No, I don’t think so. We’re going out for my birthday, and her friends are coming.”
“Uh, Baylee—ever heard of a double date?”
I make a face, and Rianne waves it off. She starts asking me about cheek piercings, and I answer as best I can, feeling myself distracted by the idea of dating Alex. Wouldn’t I be aware of the dating if that’s what we were doing?
Twenty-Three
The next day, most of our time at school consists of talking about our superlong March break, and most of the teachers don’t seem to be in the mood for serious learning. Our math teacher even pulls out the trivia game she usually saves for the end of the year. My mind and belly are full of butterflies in anticipation of my after-school plans.
I get home with enough time to freshen my makeup, brush my teeth, and throw on the outfit I picked out last night. Alex pulls into my driveway in a shiny black SUV, with Pen and Blake in the back seat. Alex assured me she’d pick me up before five, which means Mom isn’t here to see me not going out with Rianne. I fluff my hair one last time, rubbing my lips together to even out the gloss. I take the passenger seat, afraid to look at Alex and reveal how giddy I am about tonight.
“Hi,” Alex says.
“Hi.”
“Happy birthday!” Blake yells, arms up.
“Yeah, happy birthday, Baylee,” Alex says.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Did you know you live super close to Pen’s parents’ house? They’re just a few streets over,” Blake says.
“Really?” I ask, twisting my head to look at Blake. “Well, I guess that kind of makes sense.”
“She’s friends with Garrett,” Pen says.
“What?!” Blake says.
“No, I’m not. He just goes to my school now,” I say. “He and his evil friends have been guarding the walkway by my house for years.”
“Tristan’s not evil,” Pen says.
“No,” I say. Whenever Tristan was among Garrett’s group of turds, he was quiet and definitely seemed out of place. “How come I’ve never seen you hanging out with them there?”
“I stayed away from that group when they got together,” Pen says. “I had better shit to do.”
“Yeah, like play Smash Bros. or whatever,” Alex says.
“It’s Smash Brothers,” Pen shoots back.
“It’s spelled B-R-O-S.”
“It’s still Brothers. You don’t say Mario Bros., you say Mario Brothers,” Pen says. “Forget it, dude. I don’t need to be arguing with you about something you know nothing about.”
Next to me, Alex laughs as she steers the car down my street.
My phone buzzes, the way it’s been buzzing all day with notifications for birthday messages from people from school, from the uncle and cousins I never see, from Juliana.
[Lara] Happy birthday, Baylee. 🎂 My dad and I are going to drop by later to bring you a batch of biryani.
I roll my eyes at how thoughtful she can sometimes be, even though she’s probably just going to swing by my house on her way to Freddie’s.
[Baylee] That’s OK. I’d rather you didn’t.
[Lara] . . .
[Baylee] I’m just not home right now, and I don’t want you coming to drop something off to blow my cover with my mother. She doesn’t know where I am.
[Lara] Where are you?
[Baylee] Out.
[Lara] Fine.
Delicious food isn’t going to make me suddenly forget what happened.
[Baylee] Can you please thank your father for me, though? That’s really nice of him.
[Lara] Fine.
I stare at Alex while she drives, and when she notices, she gives me a shy smile. I can’t believe I’m here right now, headed downtown on a Friday night. It’s exhilarating, this feeling of being out there, having a life. Is this what a date feels like?
Downtown, we head to the Village. After finding an underground public lot with a flat rate, we set out walking down Church Street. I try not to seem like such a newb about it, but I’ve never been to the queer area of Toronto, certainly not with friends, just to hang out. We might’ve driven through at some point, trying to avoid downtown traffic on the way to SickKids Hospital, but that’s about it.
Pen and Blake walk a little ahead of Alex and me, and they move closer together as Pen hooks her pinkie around Blake’s.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I ask Alex.
“This trashy restaurant that does drag shows. The menu is pretty great.”
I gaze around, taking in the different shops and eating spots. There are a few people scattered about. “It’s a little quiet around here. Is it because it’s winter?”
“No. I guess it’s still early for the dinner rush?” Blake says. “I mean, we don’t come often, but it does seem a little dead tonight.”
“It’s gotta be the virus-pandemic stuff,” Alex says, looking around. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come out.”
“Too late, we’re already here,” Pen says.
We veer left to a one-story building that sits a little farther in, with a large empty patio out front that lines the sidewalk. We pile into the small foyer and wait by the hostess podium. A young-looking guy with perfectly tweezed eyebrows comes to us right away. Inside are several tables, a wall of booths, and a long bar counter. The person behind the bar is wearing hospital gloves, pouring drinks. A couple of booths and tables are taken, and three or four people sit at the counter.
“Welcome to Raunchy Chauncey’s, kids,” the hostess says. “Where would you like to sit? It’s a little more pathetic than usual in here tonight, so you get your choice.”
A quick glance at the booths tells me that even if I manage fitting in, I won’t be able to slide out, so I point to the tables by the window facade that looks out to the patio. “Can we sit by the windows? It would be cool to see outside.”
We sit, Alex and I on one side, Pen and Blake on the other.
Little droplets of rain start randomly sprinkling the window. Pen looks at her phone, then holds her fist up in victory.
“What?” Alex asks.
“Mild weather and rain means no snow tomorrow,” Pen says. “I hate plowing and shoveling. Who the hell likes getting up at four a.m. for that kind of shit? I’d rather still be doing fall cleanups. And I hate fall cleanups.”
“What’s fall cleanups?” I ask.
“We clean up . . . in the fall,” Pen says, and Blake smacks her forearm, flashing a warning glare. Pen shrugs innocently, then says, “My brother has a landscaping and yard-work company. I work with him when I’m not at school. Since landscaping business is nonexistent in the winter, you switch to snow removal stuff.”
