Then Everything Happens at Once, page 15
Alex’s phone must vibrate, because she fishes it out of her breast pocket. “It’s my dad. I’ll be right back.”
As she walks away, my eyes are drawn to the way her crisp black polo shirt folds against her, the way her jeans hang just a little too low on her hips, the way the veins on her forearms seem to pop.
“All right, let me ask you this,” Pen says, leaning forward. “Are you into Alex? Like, not just as a friend?”
“Pen! None of your business,” Blake says. “I told you to keep that to yourself.”
Pen is still focused on me. This is about the weird conversation she overheard between Freddie and me. My cheeks get hot, and my head fills with potential explanations of what happened, and what’s going on right now.
None of it is adequate. It’s too big to explain.
“Alex is my bud, you know? She’s had enough confused girls messing with her. She might not wanna say anything, but I got her back, you know? I’m being honest with you.”
“Um, okay?”
“I’m just saying,” Pen says, looking at Blake now. “No need to lead anyone on, right? If you’ve already got some stuff going on with someone else, then—”
“Ignore her. She can be kind of a douche,” Blake says to me.
“Yeah, but what I’m saying is still the truth. Me and Tristan overheard enough to know that—”
“So? Let them figure their own stuff out. Please!”
“I have nothing going on with anybody. Nothing at all. But say I did, I would never be messing things up like this. I would be smart,” I say, shuffling my feet, pulling at my top so that it doesn’t cling too much.
“Dude, I saw what I saw and I heard what I heard. It wasn’t nothing.”
“You like to make up your mind about stuff before you’ve got all the facts,” Blake says. “You become convinced about something, and then you get all wound up about it, Pen. Can you stop making everything awkward? Alex will be back any second.”
“Fine!” Pen says. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Blake smiles at me, her black-smudged eyes twinkling in the light in a way that makes me wish, for the hundredth time, that I was her, except for the dating Pen part. “I feel like we should go to the bathroom, right?”
She pops up from her seat, and I follow, glad to put some distance between myself and Pen.
In the bathroom, Blake fluffs her hair, sending her blond locks flying about. I wish I could feel the way I imagine Blake feeling. She is one of those people who walks around like the skin they’re in fits them in every way, like no one else’s attention or approval matters, like no makeover could ever improve them because they are already their best selves. She is living that feeling I only ever get tiny glimpses of.
There is a clear line between girls like me and girls like Blake, even though we’re probably both considered fat by the world’s standards. Girls like me are not just a little bit chunky. Girls like me are a lot of everything. Girls like me worry about fitting into the booth at the restaurant, we worry about rickety folding chairs giving out on us, we worry about being wider and taller than all the boys—than all the people, really. Some of us can’t even fit a car seat belt all the way around ourselves.
I’ve never wished to be skinny, but I wish so bad that I wasn’t this fat. That I was closer to Blake, curvy with squish in all the right places, and moving through the world would be easier.
“I think Pen is getting the wrong idea about everything,” I say. “She really doesn’t like me, but it’s for things that aren’t actually reality-based.”
“Pen seems harsh, but it has to do with the way she says things,” Blake says. “Ignore her. She’s got a thing with loyalty, and Alex’s ex was a terrible person, so Pen has decided she’s going to be Alex’s shield.”
“Okay, but I don’t think Pen has anything to worry about. It’s not like that between me and Alex.” I grab locks of my hair, freeing my hoop earrings. The angle I see in the mirror right now has no double chin, and I like it. “It’s not like that.”
“But you get that it could be, right?” she says, locking eyes with me through the mirror.
That makes me laugh, but under the laughter is me wishing with all my might that it could be like that between Alex and me.
“Do you like Alex?” Blake asks.
I nod. “But—I mean . . .”
“But what?”
I shrug because it’s too much to lay out there, on this person I don’t really know.
Twenty-Four
An hour or so later, we walk out of the restaurant to a darkened sky. The drag show that was set to begin at seven was canceled when a couple of the performers had to bail.
“This wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be,” Blake says.
“I thought it was great,” I say.
“Your birthday could’ve been a lot more fun,” she says. “Last time we came, the show was amazing and the vibe was just magical.”
I’m not going to admit that it all feels very magical to me, making the one-year difference in age between us obvious, so I shrug in response.
The four of us stand on the sidewalk, gazing up and down the street.
“What are we doing? It’s cold, and the sky might start leaking again,” Pen says.
“Where can we go?” Blake asks.
We stand there a few more minutes, and it becomes pretty clear that our options are slim.
“I guess we can just drive back,” Blake says. “Maybe we can grab a coffee or something on the way?”
I’m about to agree when some guy runs over to us.
“The coronavirus isn’t real! It’s a government conspiracy,” he yells at us. “Don’t be sheep!”
“Go home!” Blake yells back.
“Babe,” Pen says, her voice sharp. “This is Toronto. You’re gonna get us murdered.”
While we power-walk our way back to the car, I pull my phone out to check in with my mom, who made me promise I would.
“Oh, look at those earrings!” Blake says, pointing to the front window display of a boutique. “Can we please stop quickly?”
“Aw, babe. Let’s just go!” Pen whines.
“I would, um, kind of like to go in,” I say, pointing to the purse I would love to see up close.
“It’s your birthday, so you get to pick what we do,” Alex says.
Pen says, “I’ll remember that when it’s my birthday. It’s going to be Mario Party for an entire day, and you won’t be able to bail.”
We head inside the little shop, where everything seems handmade and features a lot of leather, stones, and metal. My eyes move across the jewelry, belts, and bags. Blake holds a pair of rustic copper hoops up to her ears, checking herself out in the mirror. I head for the studded red leather satchel that caught my eye.
“Three hundred!” I say.
“Yikes,” Alex says. “It’s nice, though. It suits you.”
I put the bag back, pouting. Alex wanders deeper into the store when Pen asks her to come look at something. On the other end of the counter is a tray of wallets. I waste no time locating the matching red leather wallet, silver studs lining the front of it.
“Oh my god,” Blake says, coming up next to me. “That wallet is righteous. How much?”
“Ninety-nine dollars,” I say. “I wanted the purse, but it’s way too much.”
“The wallet totally goes with the purse you have already, though.” Blake picks up the matching black wallet. “Let’s get them!”
“You can afford this?”
“I’ve been putting in too many hours at the Gamer Depot since Christmas. Time to buy myself a present!” Blake nods. “I’ll get black, you get red.”
These people all have jobs. I should have a job, and I am suddenly feeling really opposite of legit for not having one. The little bit of money I came here with was spent on dinner. I suppose there’s always the emergency credit card my mother gave me years ago. I do have a little backup money in my piggybank, plus it’s my birthday, so I could put the money I’m sure to get toward the cost of the wallet. I think it’ll be fine as long as I tell my mom about it before the bill comes in.
“I would love to change up my style a little,” I say. “Or more like, add to it.”
I was going to elaborate, but I don’t want to come off like a young weirdo, trying to copy the older, cooler girl next to me.
The feel of the heavy red wallet in my hand is lovely. How could I put it back now, when it already feels like it’s mine?
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
“We’re twinning now,” Blake says.
We head for the counter, and I swipe my credit card. The clerk takes such care wrapping the wallet in tissue.
Out on the street, the four of us pass a hot dog cart, and Blake goes, “Wait—can we get a hot dog?”
“We just ate, Babe,” Pen says.
“So? I’m hungry again,” Blake says. “And I never pass up an opportunity for street meat. Come on!”
Pen and Alex shake their heads no, and although I could totally eat a hot dog, I decline the invite. Blake is just laying her hunger out there, totally not ashamed about being able to eat more than everyone else she’s with, but I can’t be that girl. Not tonight.
“Whatever,” Blake says. She turns to Pen. “I’m getting a hot dog with lots of onions, so I guess you and me are not making out later.”
“Oh, we’re still making out,” Pen says. “You’ll just have to chew a whole pack of gum first.”
Alex laughs and pulls out her keys. “Why don’t Baylee and I go get the car, and we’ll pick you up here?”
“Sure,” Blake says, then she’s pulling Pen by the sleeve.
Saying no to the hot dog thing was the right decision, because now I get to walk alone with Alex. We cross the street and make our way to the ramp for the underground lot. At the SUV, we stand next to it. A little red car comes down the ramp and parks next to us. Three people exit, laughing, and their voices echo.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Alex says. “We should hang out more.”
“Really?” I say. “I think so, too. We have a really long March break now, so I’ve got nothing but time.”
“I took a ton of shifts, but I think it would be really nice to spend the time I have between them with you.”
“Next-level nice.”
Before I have a second to consider what’s about to happen, Alex steps over to me and grabs the fingers of my left hand with her right one. It’s the lightest touch, and I feel it resonate as goose bumps in the small of my back. It’s like I’d been waiting for her to touch me like this my whole life.
She raises my hand, like she’s some noble sir and I’m a delicate beauty, and she brushes her lips against my knuckles.
I literally die right there, in this underground lot. A death of a thousand butterflies.
Twenty-Five
On Saturday evening, Alex and I are texting, discussing possible plans during March break. Neither of us mentions last night. I want to so badly, but no matter how I picture myself bringing it up, it feels awkward or cheesy. A glance at my hand sends shivers through my back with the memory. When I seek Google’s advice, it says, Hand kissing is a gesture indicating courtesy, politeness, respect, admiration, or even devotion by one person toward another. Which qualifier did Alex have in mind? How do I know what’s going on without being told?
[Baylee] The phone? Really? You want to speak to me live?
[Alex] I do. I want to hear ur voice.
[Baylee] Well . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . OK!
My phone rings about three seconds later, so I put down the piece of leftover chocolate birthday cake I was working on. I answer it, saying “hi” and “hello” together, which turns into this weird combo thing.
“High-low to you, too,” Alex says.
“Of course, the first thing I say ends up super dumb.”
“It’s all right. I think it’s cute,” Alex says. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Probably nothing exciting. Possibly painting my toes red. You?”
“Possibly talking to you,” she says. “Although I’ve been thinking I might go grab a coffee at Hot Mugs.”
I feel tiny fireworks in my belly, anticipating that she might ask me to hang out.
“Really?” I say, trying my best to seem nonchalant. “I think that sounds like a really good time.”
My mom’s voice rings out over Rebecca’s cries, yelling my name repeatedly in a way that makes it clear she’s probably been calling me for a while. I cut my Spotify playlist.
“Can I call you right back? My mom needs me.”
“Sure.”
I yell, “What?” into the hallway.
“Door’s for you, Boss. I’ve been calling ten minutes,” Mom yells back.
A glance out my window reveals Freddie’s car on the street out front. Now that my music is off, I can hear his voice downstairs. I spin around my room to find my new push-up bra and change out of my ugly T-shirt and shorts. The possibility of this occurrence is exactly why I make sure my hair and makeup are always done.
In the living room, Mom is sitting on the couch while Rebecca is on her play mat, rolling around happily with Freddie crouched next to her. The news headlines roll on the TV screen.
“This is going to get out of hand real fast,” Mom says.
“Yeah,” Freddie says as he holds one of my sister’s light-up toys above her head, and she tries swatting at it. “There are over a hundred cases in Ontario now.”
My sister, oblivious, smiles to herself as she wiggles around on her mat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask from where I stand on the bottom step of the stairs.
“I was hoping to talk to you,” he says. “Please.”
Mom gives me a look of curiosity, like she can sense something serious is going on by the way Freddie’s last word was spoken.
This is stupid. Alex is waiting for me to call her back.
Yet here I am, slipping on my boots and coat, throwing a couple of pieces of gum into my mouth and following him outside.
Freddie stops by his car, rolling on the balls of his feet, fists in the pockets of his jeans. For some reason, I find myself wondering what it would be like to have the ability to walk over and have him wrap his arms around me. Why am I thinking this? Why did I come out here? I shouldn’t even be in this place with him, physically or mentally.
But he came after me. I wasn’t the one running after him this time. This feeling could be addictive.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Happy birthday, one day late.”
I cross my arms. “Okay?”
“Can we hang out for a bit?”
“Not really.” I run my hand through my hair, tipping my head to the side, extending my neck in a way that I hope flattens my chins—because I can’t help myself.
I throw him what I hope is a fierce glare.
He sighs. “Just come with me. Let’s go for a ride. I’ll take you to Port Perry.”
“Now?”
“Sure,” he says. “Anywhere.”
As if I’d get into his car again. I study his face, wondering what kind of mood he’s in. Nothing explains what he’s doing here.
“I fixed the seat belt, Bay.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I guess everything is just perfect. Your car’s seat belt was the root cause of all the shittery that’s happened in the last few weeks.”
He snorts at my sarcasm.
“I would like to talk to you about some stuff,” he says. “Can you just come?”
He came for me this time. This must be what it’s like to be Lara. To be busy elsewhere and have a guy coming after you, not giving up. This isn’t right, but I like it.
“Fine.”
We get into the car. I don’t say anything, and neither does he.
I send my mother a text: Just outside with Freddie for a while.
Soon, it’s obvious we’re headed to the empty lot of the factory his grandfather worked at. He brings the car to a stop in the middle of the lot, and his fingers drum against the steering wheel. I can’t look at him. All this weirdness is like a pair of jeans one size too small.
“Let’s get some air,” he says, pulling the keys out of the ignition.
We both lean against the back of the car, a couple of feet separating us. The night is mild again, and the sound of melting snow and ice trickling down a sewer grate to our left can be heard. Freddie pulls out his vape, and the smell of grapes surrounds us. He hops onto the trunk, and the car bounces against my butt.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He gives me a sharp glance, clearly not impressed with my tone. Time passes, then he goes, “I’m thinking of applying for university in Vancouver. They have a pretty solid screenwriting and story design program.”
It’s like my lungs lose air. “Why? I thought you wanted to go somewhere in Toronto.”
We were all planning to stay close by for college. We were all still going to hang out together. He wasn’t supposed to be far away.
“I can change my mind about stuff,” he says.
“Well, I think you’re just trying to make me mad,” I say.
“Why would you be mad?”
“People always think moving far away is going to make things better. That’s so unoriginal.” Silence. I take a breath, letting the annoyance growing inside me take the wheel. “So you’re just going to like, run away to a part of Canada that’s going to end up lost under the ocean soon? Solid plan.”
He snorts. “You make it sound like it’s sinking.”
“It kind of is!” I cross my arms, looking out at the vacant field past the paved lot. “Super slowly, but still.”
“I’ll get a houseboat. How’s that?”
“That’s a dumb idea.”
I find myself getting more and more irritated with the way my earrings and wavy locks can’t ever play nicely together.
