Bad Idea (4 page)

Daisy hadn’t been one of the people who’d
seen the note Riva and Emmy had exchanged. Riva quickly rewound the
encounter in her mind and realized what it must have looked like.
Daisy’s supportive attitude made a lot more sense all of a
sudden.

“You thought I admitted to being gay. And
that people were being mean to me about it.”

“Is that not what happened?”

“No, no. I don’t think Emmy would have blown
me off so hard if that was what was going on.” Riva’s face
flamed.

Daisy was clearly a good person, someone who
didn’t want to let bullies win the day. It made Riva feel guilty to
know she’d been benefiting from a false impression—especially when
she still really wanted to go to the beach and have a friend.

Daisy’s jaw worked as she drove.

“It’s okay,” Riva said. “You can ask. You
deserve an answer at this point, I think.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what
did
happen?”

“It’s this stupid thing my boyfriend has been
wanting me to do,” Riva said. She was surprised at how easily the
sentence flowed from her mouth. She hadn’t talked to anyone about
this, hadn’t even brought it up during her IM sessions with her
best friend back home. She took a deep breath and confessed the
rest. “He wants to see me make out with a girl. I don’t know how to
find girls who would want to do something like that. It was a
stupid idea to ask Emmy. I’ve ruined my life, and Benton’s going to
be pissed off that I haven’t made any progress setting this
up.”

Daisy was quiet for a long time. The car sped
up slightly, then Daisy sighed, and it slowed back down.

“You’re judging me, right?” Riva said. “It’s
okay, really. I
know
I was being an idiot. If you don’t want
to hang out with me—”

“Stop it. I still want to hang out.”

Riva bit her lip. “I don’t know why.”

“You seem cool. Especially if you would quit
saying bad things about yourself.”

“What about me could possibly seem cool? So
far, I’ve embarrassed myself in French class, failed to climb a
fence, almost gotten us both in trouble with the deans, and told
you this screwed-up thing I’m trying to do for my boyfriend.”

More silence passed. Riva hadn’t been able to
stop herself from listing the day’s humiliations, but now she
regretted doing so. She didn’t really want to convince Daisy she
wasn’t
cool.

Around when the lack of reply became really
agonizing, Daisy exhaled loudly. “I like the shirts you wear,” she
said. “The ones about video games. I never could play. I don’t know
many girls who do. And I like that you’re in my math class even
though you’re a year behind me. A lot of kids are afraid to be
smart. I think it’s cool that you’re not. I like…” She shook her
head. “I don’t know. I just always felt like we would get
along.”

By the time Daisy finished talking, Riva was
smiling so wide, her cheeks hurt. “I think you seem cool, too,” she
said.

“You do?”

“Yeah, how could I not? I mean, you actually
know how to dress. I get stressed about that all the time—I’m
scared to really put on makeup—but you just make it all look so
easy. And you look so…I don’t know…
comfortable
.”

Daisy laughed at that. “I don’t think there’s
a single kid in our school who feels comfortable there.”

“I’d settle for looking that way. I think
it’s cool that you’re on the varsity volleyball team. And the way
you are with your friend, Jo. I miss that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was friends with this girl back
home. Casey Turner. We met in preschool. I guess I sort of expected
us to grow apart at some point, but we never did…until I moved
here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I just wish I
could act normal here. I don’t know who to talk to, how to be,
where to go. Nothing feels right.”

“Is that why you’re doing this stuff for your
boyfriend? You’re letting him pressure you because you feel like
you’ve got nothing else?”

“He’s not pressuring me,” Riva said quickly.
“I mean, he’s pushing me, sure. But I don’t want to be a boring
coward…” She trailed off, noticing that Daisy’s eyebrow had climbed
again. Even to her own ears, her words rang hollow. If Benton
wasn’t pressuring her, she wouldn’t be so stressed about
disappointing him, would she?

Daisy didn’t pursue the argument, though. She
just let Riva stew in what she’d said for a few minutes. Riva
wished Daisy would keep talking. Maybe that was because she wanted
Daisy to talk her out of trying to please Benton. Maybe it was
because she wanted to convince Daisy, and therefore herself, that
Benton wasn’t actually asking too much of her.

The car turned off the Interstate and onto a
state highway, the shoulder beside the exit covered in signs giving
directions to various beaches and beachside attractions.

“Want to know what feels right to me?” Daisy
asked.

“What?”

“Roll your window all the way down.” Daisy
flicked on the radio.

Riva didn’t know anyone who still listened to
the radio—even her mom always hooked her iPod up to the car stereo.
Static flickered through the music, and the song wasn’t familiar,
but there was something interesting about listening to whatever
came in through the airwaves, giving up control.

“Can you smell the ocean?”

Riva leaned out the window and inhaled salt
and heat. “Yeah,” she said, shouting over the music and the
snapping wind.

“Does it feel right to you?”

Riva stared at this girl too pretty and
popular to be putting up with her. She knew what Daisy was trying
to tell her. Whatever she thought of Benton, or of what Riva had
done in French class, they were still going to the beach together.
Daisy had cut class with Riva not out of pity, but for some other
inexplicable reason. Her offer of friendship remained on the
table.

“I think maybe it does,” Riva said.

Daisy grinned as she drove. Riva put her hand
out the window, catching wind in her palm. For once, the warmth of
the day didn’t feel wrong.

* * * *

“Wait, wait, wait, Mom.” Terrell Hubbard
stopped his mother before she carried the casserole out to the car.
“It’s not ready.”

She frowned at the red dish, still wearing
oven mitts. “You’ve been working on it all afternoon. How can it
not be ready? We have to go! Maura already texted me. She thinks no
one’s coming.”

“Why do you care? You never liked her.”

“We’re not going over there for Maura. This
is for Riva. She’s family whether we like it or not. Are you
looking out for her in school like I asked?”

Terrell shrugged guiltily. Keeping an eye on
his mostly white cousin didn’t seem all that important. He’d seen
the house she lived in. Maura might have been a single mom, but she
wasn’t hurting for cash. Riva might be new in town, but she wasn’t
in any kind of trouble. He had problems of his own. Serious
ones.

He nudged his mom gently out of the way. “I
need to put the garnish on top.”

Terrell had already chopped parsley and
tarragon. Taking one of the oven mitts, he lifted the lid off the
casserole and carefully sprinkled the green herbs across its crispy
surface. It smelled just as he’d hoped it would, garlicky with a
hint of sweetness, the savory richness of pork fat rolling up
through the clean, starchy smell of noodles, appetizing but not
overpowering.

“Are you sure you don’t want to claim the
credit for this?” his mother asked. “It looks delicious, and I
don’t even know what it’s called. One of these days, someone’s
going to ask me for cooking advice, and I’m going to put them on
the phone with you.”

Terrell took a deep breath, his pleasure in
his creation dissolving into the tension that always lingered at
the back of his skull. “No. Tell them you made it, okay?”

“Honey, what are you scared of? Fine young
man like you. Smart. Basketball scholarship on the way. If the
girls find out you can cook, too, they’ll be beating down the
door.”

He forced a smile. Maybe he was being
paranoid. Cooking didn’t mean he was gay. Kissing boys, on the
other hand—that’s what meant he was gay, and Terrell had done
plenty of it. The problem was that people
thought
cooking
was a gay thing for a guy to do. Maybe if he’d been into barbequing
and grilling, it would have been okay, but caring about the flavor
of tarragon versus marjoram wasn’t going to win him any manliness
awards from the other guys on the team. The last thing he needed
was for someone to think he was gay for some stupid, stereotypical
reason, and stumble on the real reason by mistake.

“I’m not ready for all those girls,” he said
instead, then winced. Given what he’d just been thinking, that
sentence sounded way too revealing.

His mom didn’t notice, though. She started
lecturing him about how she wouldn’t mind if he went on a few dates
before college, and then she started worrying that it was her fault
he didn’t go on dates because she appreciated it so much when he
stayed home and helped her around the house.

“You got elected Homecoming King!” she said.
“Since when does the Homecoming King not have a date to
Homecoming?”

“I had a date to Homecoming. The Homecoming
Queen.”

“I bet you barely talked to that girl.”

Terrell shrugged and finished the casserole,
letting his mom’s conversation wash over him. “See? That only took
five minutes longer. We’re not that late.” He led the way to the
garage.

“Nobody’s going over there, though. Riva’s
going to think she doesn’t have family here.”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Terrell said.

His mother gave him a sharp look as she
started the car. “She’s your Uncle Nelson’s daughter.”

“She’s a white girl.”

“Her momma’s a white girl.
She’s
family.”

“You never call Uncle Nelson. He’s family,
too, right?”

Terrell’s mother sighed. He knew he was
pushing her, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never heard her say
anything good about either of Riva’s parents. Now, all of a sudden,
he was supposed to befriend her in school, and it was a big deal
for them to go visit at the house.

For the rest of the car ride, his mom tried
to explain it to him. Uncle Nelson was always busy at work and
didn’t want to be called. Probably it would be good to treat Maura
like family after all. It was just that old habits die hard. It was
too bad the family had split apart when Terrell’s grandfather had
left his grandmother for a younger white woman, but Riva shouldn’t
suffer for the mistakes of the older generation. It was complicated
and sort of annoying. Terrell did understand how important it was
to look out for family, but Riva and her mom had appeared out of
nowhere six months ago as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t
imagine having Riva’s back the way he would for his other
cousins—especially because he
really
couldn’t imagine her
returning the favor. Even if she was family, he didn’t see how she
needed him and his mom.

They pulled up outside Riva’s house. Terrell
couldn’t help noticing the little flag in the yard that announced
which landscaping service they used. He snorted to himself. He’d
been mowing his mom’s yard since he was nine years old, and before
that, she’d mowed it herself. He couldn’t picture his mom ever
paying for a landscaping service. That was just a waste, a sign of
people who had more money than sense.

“There aren’t any cars out here,” his mom
noted.

“Maybe we’re early.”

“We’re not early.”

They rang the bell. Riva’s mom, Maura, was
all dressed up, diamonds at her ears, her wrist, her throat. Her
dress looked like an outfit for a movie premiere. Terrell felt
embarrassed for his mom, worrying so much about this woman who
didn’t have a problem in the world that he could see.

“That casserole smells delicious,” Maura
said.

There was a long pause. Terrell realized his
mom still wanted him to admit he’d made it. He nudged her. “Her
cooking is the best,” he said.

Maura took the red dish, lifting the lid to
peek at the contents. “It looks like the best,” she said. “And it
looks like I’ve got a fellow Food Network aficionado on my hands. I
saw this recipe two nights ago, Edna, but I haven’t had a chance to
try it yet. You’ll have to tell me how it worked outside the test
kitchen.”

Terrell’s stomach dropped into his shoes. How
could he be such an idiot? It had never occurred to him to worry
about where he got his recipes.

His mom shook her head slightly and muttered,
“This is why it’s bad to tell lies, son.” Then she pasted on a
smile and followed Maura to her kitchen. “It took a little longer
than I thought, but, otherwise, it went pretty well.”

“Well, I can’t wait to try it,” Maura said.
She started chattering about her favorite Food Network shows.

“Where’s Riva?” Terrell hadn’t thought he was
anxious to hang out with his cousin, but now he couldn’t get away
from the kitchen fast enough. He didn’t know which was worse,
fearing exposure or listening to his mother struggle to remember
basic cooking terminology.

“She’s in her room upstairs, second door on
the left. She said she had some homework to finish up.”

Terrell rolled his eyes. That was obviously
an excuse. He didn’t know why parents bought lies like that. He
climbed the stairs two at a time and knocked on Riva’s door.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Mom. I swear!”

“It’s your cousin Terrell.”

“Oh. Hang on.”

She opened the door a couple of seconds
later, releasing the telltale smell of the beach. He noticed the
balled-up towel in the corner of the room and the hint of coconut
rising from her skin and gave her a lopsided smile. She didn’t look
happy to see him.

“I was looking forward to visiting you, too,
cuz,” Terrell said.