Blackbird Fly (9 page)

“Uh,” I said. I considered shouting out random numbers, just anything, so I wouldn't keep standing there like a moron, but even random numbers wouldn't jump into my head. My entire brain was empty. All except, “Uh. Um.”

He looked up. “It's hard to remember your own number sometimes, since you never call yourself.”

I chuckled. Another out-of-body experience. “Yeah.”

And then they came to me: all the fours and fives and threes in the right places.

At least I
think
they were the right places.

After he put my number in his phone and we said our awkward good-byes, I waited until he left the library before I walked out too. My heart didn't stop pounding until I was back to my normal life, which meant sitting with Alyssa and Gretchen under the oak tree in the quad.

“Where were you?” asked Alyssa. “We looked all over.”

She took a swig of her Diet Coke. Usually she drank Dr Pepper, but as soon as the school had announced the Halloween dance, she switched to Diet Coke. She said she had to watch her weight.

“We were just discussing the spring swing-choir show,” she said. “I decided to stay in, because Mr. Z says we're doing
Grease
this year and I'm up for Sandy.”

“Oh. Great.” Hearing Mr. Z's name made my cheeks warm.

“If I get it, I just hope that Jake doesn't get too jealous about me singing with another boy. He can be
so
overprotective when he likes someone.”

I glanced around the quad to see what Jake was up to. He was standing against the north wall, knocking Jane Domino's braids off her shoulders while she slapped his hand away. He didn't seem too interested in anything Alyssa was doing.

“I have a date to the dance,” I said.

Gretchen's eyes lit up. Alyssa glared at me—suspicious but full of curiosity.

“Who?” Alyssa asked.

“I don't really want to go with him, but he just asked me in the library, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings.” The fib spilled out without warning. Little white lies, but with each word that came out of my mouth, I felt more and more like Analyn the Thief.

“Who? Who?” Alyssa said.

“Yeah,” Gretchen said. “Who?” She scanned the quad as if she could guess who my date was simply by looking around.

“Evan Temple,” I whispered.

“Ohmygod!” said Alyssa. “I can't believe you're going with him.”

“I couldn't say no,” I said. “He looked like he really wanted to go.” It was amazing how easily the lies came out now, like I'd been lying my whole life.

Gretchen nodded knowingly. She knew all about breaking boys' hearts.

“Of course you couldn't say no,” Alyssa said. “He's your only hope.”

“What are you going to dress up as, Apple?” asked Gretchen.

“I don't know.”

“Gawd, can you imagine what Evan might be?” said Alyssa. “He'll probably be all decked out in some kind of devilish freak costume. How embarrassing.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said. “I don't like him or anything.”

“Good. Because Braden isn't going with anyone, and he kinda asked if you had a date.”

My heart dropped. “Braden? Really?”

Part of me was elated. Even though I was on the log, Braden had asked about me and he was one of the most popular guys in school.

Then again, he was also one of the most idiotic.

But still.

“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “Jake told me that Braden asked if you had a date to the dance. I said no. So I asked Jake if Braden wanted to ask you, and Jake said Braden didn't want to go with anyone in particular,
but he was planning to ask you to dance with him on a couple slow songs.”

I bit my bottom lip, thinking about all this new information. Ever since Braden had nicknamed Mr. Ted “Sweaty Teddy,” and especially since the day of Alyssa's party, I'd thought Braden was a jerk, but suddenly he transformed into something different. Alyssa was with Jake. Gretchen was with Lance. It would be amazing to have a boyfriend in the same crowd—the
right
crowd. Dating one of the popular guys in school was sure to get me off that stupid Dog Log. And maybe Braden wasn't all that bad.

“Maybe you could ditch Evan once you get to the dance. You know, nothing too harsh, but just like sneak away and dance with Braden real quick,” said Alyssa, taking another sip of her Diet Coke.

“That doesn't seem like a nice thing to do,” said Gretchen.

“Evan is a jerk anyway.” Alyssa tossed her hair
off her shoulder. “Remember?”

“Maybe he won't mind if I dance with Braden,” I said. “I mean, it's not like I'm married to Evan. I just need him. For redemption, ya know?” Even as I said it, it didn't feel like me saying it. I don't know who it was. I felt like I was someone different, someone I didn't like that much but someone who was still trying to be better all at the same time. If you lie and still have good intentions, it's still almost okay—right?

A
few years ago, my mother spent an entire afternoon watching a really long movie about Cleopatra. My mom never took her eyes off the TV except during the commercials, when she would go to the bathroom or load the dishwasher or grab a quick snack of sardines from the pantry, all in a big rush so she could get back to the movie. Personally I thought the show was super boring. All except
Cleopatra. She was so pretty, I could hardly believe it. Dark, dark hair and eyes like crystals. She didn't look like the other actresses in the other old movies my mom liked to watch, but she was prettier than all of them put together. At least I thought so. That's why I decided to be Cleopatra for Halloween.

My mom had an old dress that she said I could wear. All it needed was a few pins here and there to make it fit right. And I had something I could use as the headdress. It was a beaded headband that Alyssa had left in my bag after one of her dance recitals at the beginning of sixth grade. She said she didn't need it back, so I just tossed it in my closet and forgot about it. When I got the idea to use it for Cleopatra, I went through an entire greatest-hits anthology digging around in my closet to find it.

After that the main thing was the eyes. Cleopatra wore dark eye makeup and eyeliner that made her eyes look wide and enchanting. I pulled up a picture of Cleopatra on the computer and set it next to my
dresser mirror so I could get it just right. I'd never had so much makeup on my face in my entire life, but I didn't mind. I felt like I was covering up all the things that made me ugly.

When I was done, I stepped in front of my mother's full-length mirror and couldn't believe it. I looked like myself but not. Maybe I wasn't as gorgeous as Cleopatra, but I didn't feel like a girl on the Dog Log either. I imagined Alyssa's and Gretchen's faces when I walked in. Even the boys would be amazed. Maybe.

The only thing is, I didn't have any Cleopatra-like shoes, so I wore my Chucks. The dress was just long enough to cover them.

I wondered what Evan's costume would be. I half expected Gandalf or Bilbo Baggins. Instead here's what I saw when I opened the door: a white T-shirt and blue jeans. A red stripe went straight down the T-shirt, and another red stripe went across it, but the horizontal stripe wasn't just on the shirt. It was also
across the insides of his forearms. He was wearing his Vans. A woman stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders and a smile so wide that it looked like she had a thousand teeth. Her hair was the same color as Evan's, and her nose was shaped the same way.
It must be nice,
I thought,
to know where all your traits come from.

“Wow,” he said, looking my costume up and down. “Cleopatra?”

“Yeah. What are you?”

He raised his arms. The red stripes made a T. “I'm a plus sign.” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “This is my mom. Her name's Anna.”

Anna exploded in hellos as she and Evan stepped into our living room. His mom smelled like the art room at school. Nothing like the smell of Filipino food that had buried itself into the walls of our house. I tensed and looked at Evan, waiting for a reaction, something that might tell me he planned to pinch his nose for the rest of the school year. But he just looked
around like it was normal. I was suddenly aware of everything in our house: the weird Santo Niño in the cabinet, my mom's map of the Philippines on the wall, the dull-looking furniture in the living room, our small kitchen table with its one slightly wobbly leg. My house felt completely different with Evan here, like I was sharing a secret I wasn't ready to tell.

“I'm so glad Evan is going to the school dance with you, Apple,” his mom said. She put an arm around me. The bangles on her wrist jangled. She had on a long dress covered in flowers and splattered with paint. “You look gorgeous! Just like Elizabeth Taylor.”

My mom smiled wildly as they made the usual introductions.

“I couldn't believe it when Evan told me he was going to a school dance already,” said Anna. She had the happiest smile I'd ever seen. “I was worried it would take him a long time to adjust, but he seems to be doing okay, going to the dance with a pretty
girl and all.” She glanced down at her dress. “As for me, I look a mess. My apologies. I can't help it much though. All my clothes are a nightmare.”

“You should use our dry cleaner. They're very good and won't rip you off,” said my mother.

She started telling Evan's mother all about our dry cleaner. Of all the things to talk about. My embarrassment grew to epic proportions. I didn't want to look at my mom, Evan, or my house, so I focused on one of the flowers on Mrs. Temple's dress instead. It was a daisy that looked like it was being eaten by a big glob of white paint.

“I'm an artist, so it's no use trying to keep anything clean,” said Anna. “I paint.”

“Oh, a painter!” said my mother. “What do you paint?”

“Abstracts, mostly.”

“That's a fancy word for paintings that don't make any sense,” Evan mumbled.

His mother shot him a scolding glance.

Evan and I sat at the almost-wobbly table next to each other as our mothers exchanged numbers and started talking about stuff like Evan's dad and his new job. Evan chewed on his fingernail. I ran my hand over my hair. I had to put extra conditioner in it to make it softer before I straightened it. It felt weird.

“How come you told your mom my name was Apple?” I whispered to Evan.

“Sorry, I guess I forgot,” he said, still chewing. “But it's just because you look more like an Apple.”

Was he saying I had a big head? I didn't ask.

“It's neat that your mom's a painter,” I said. “I bet she's good at it.”

“If you like crazy paintings that don't look like anything,” he said, brushing his hair away from his forehead. I wondered why he didn't just cut his hair if it bothered him so much. “Sorry about her clothes. She's always covered in paint or has chopsticks coming out of her head. She's kinda weird.”

I thought about her big smile, how she smelled
like the art room, and all the bright paint stains. I wondered what it was like to have a mom who loved to create things. I bet she wouldn't have any problem with Evan learning how to play an instrument, even if it was something out of the ordinary, like the organ or the harp. I bet she had a favorite song.

“She seems really cool,” I said.

“I guess,” Evan replied.

Mrs. Temple offered to bring us to the dance, and I prayed that she would, but my mom insisted on driving us there.

“I love driving around,” said my mother. “In the Philippines, I didn't have a car. I walked everywhere—down to the store, down to the river, down to my friends' houses—because everything was close together. Then I came to America and learned how to drive. I learned quick.” She snapped her fingers. “And now I love it. I even cheat the speed limit sometimes. Right, Apple?”

I wanted to die. I jumped up from the table so quickly that it rattled. I was ready to get to the dance and
show off my Cleopatra costume, but mostly I was ready to get out of the house and away from my mother.

Finally Evan's mom left, and we got in the car. Evan stared out the window while my mom quietly hummed. As if she wasn't embarrassing enough.

She dropped us off in front of the gym, which was decorated with spider webs and guarded by Principal Earnshaw, who was dressed as a pirate.

“Be sure to say hello to the principal so he can forget about what happened,” said my mother as Evan and I got out of the car. She waved like a maniac to the pirate, who didn't see her.

Evan and I walked down the sidewalk leading to the gym entrance. I heard music thumping from inside the building.

“Why does your mom want you to say hello to Earnshaw?” Evan asked.

“It's a long story,” I said.