Harsh Pink with Bonus Content (9 page)

“Sally and Meredith and I are going to the mall tomorrow,” she tells me as I’m about to leave. “You want to come with us?”

I consider Jocelyn and feel uncomfortable. Not that I have to include her in everything, but it did seem like we were becoming good friends. I glance over to where she’s dancing with Chad. The place has been steadily clearing out the last few minutes, but there are still some couples on the dance floor. Jocelyn seems like she’s really into Chad, which is a surprise to me because she hadn’t mentioned this before. But it might just be the effect of the alcohol. I’m pretty sure she’s overdone it tonight.

“Just you,” says Kendra, as if reading my mind. “I don’t want to be mean, but my car’s not that big, you know. Four is pretty tight.” Then she laughs as she points toward Jocelyn. “Besides, that girl is going to be nursing a nasty hangover tomorrow. Mark my word.”

I laugh too. “You’re probably right. Sure, I’d love to go to the mall.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Thanks for the party,” I tell her. “And everything.”

She smiles and it really does seem sincere. Then I go and get Jocelyn, peeling her off Chad and directing her out the door and across the parking lot. She’s definitely weaving as we walk, and we’re almost to my car when she starts moaning and groaning.

She hunches over and holds onto her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, bending down to see her face.

That’s when she starts hurling. I jump back just in time to miss the explosion.

“Eew!” I yell, moving even farther away from her. “Gross, Jocelyn!” But then, hearing her quiet sobs, I feel bad. I go back over and help to balance her as she continues to barf her guts out. I try to hold back her hair and keep her from falling as she hurls and hurls. I tell her it’ll be okay and that I’ll get her home soon, and finally she seems to be finished. Careful to miss the puddle, I help her get into my car, hoping that she isn’t going to hurl again, although it seems like her stomach should be totally empty by now. I find a couple of unused McDonald’s napkins as well as a half-full water bottle in the backseat. I give these to her. “Wipe off your mouth,” I tell her. “And have a few sips of water.”

She doesn’t say a word as I drive her home. This is a relief, because all I can think about right now is that I somehow seem to have crossed the invisible line. It feels like Kendra has accepted me, like she has allowed me into her inner circle. Oh, I realize it could be a trick. But something tells me it’s not. Anyway, it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Thankfully, Jocelyn seems a lot better by the time I get her home.

“Do you want me to help you into the house?” I offer.

“No,” she says in a raspy voice. “I’m okay.”

“Take care,” I say as she gets out. “And drink some juice or something before you go to bed. I’ve heard that too much alcohol can really dehydrate a person. Maybe have some Gatorade or something, okay?”

She gives me a weak smile. “Thanks, Reagan. You’re a real friend.”

I nod and wave, thinking,
No, I’m not a real friend. I’m more like a real phony.
Then I drive away and try not to think about it.

***

Although I’m Chinese by birth, I am truly 100 percent American. It’s all I’ve ever known and all I can relate to. Even so, I think I may have some Chinese — rather, Buddhist — traits. Not in a religious sort of way, since I think of myself as generally nonreligious, but more in a philosophical sort of way. My only explanation for this is DNA — meaning I think my Chinese DNA is compatible with Buddhism. All this to say that since I was a little girl, my way to make up for my mistakes has always been to work very hard. It’s part of Buddhism to believe you can replace bad with good. For instance, when I was about seven I broke an antique rocking chair by doing a gymnastic trick. I swept the kitchen, vacuumed the carpet, washed dishes, folded laundry, all sorts of domestic things. Whatever it takes to balance the scales. For the most part this has worked for me. But sometimes it makes me really, really tired.

Like today. Even though I went to bed quite late last night and this is Saturday, I got up early this morning to do chores. I know this is partly because I feel guilty for going to a drinking party, something Mom would not approve of, but also because I feel guilty that I’ll be leaving Jocelyn out in the cold by going to the mall with Kendra today. Of course, Jocelyn is clueless, and I’m sure she’s still sleeping off her night of boozing. I warned her to take it easy last night. I told her she’d had too much. But, no, she wanted to “partay!” And look where that got her.

Anyway, as I fix Nana some breakfast, clean up her messes, do a few loads of laundry, change Nana’s sheets, and fix her a lunch for later, I somehow convince myself that all this work makes things right. By the time Kendra pulls into my driveway around noon, I’m convinced my slate is clean.

“Have fun,” calls Nana as I sprint for the door. I hurry because I don’t want to take any chances of Kendra or the others getting close enough to my house to gaze inside and see anything. Not that it looks bad. It doesn’t. But Nana is so unpredictable. She could say or do anything. It’s just not worth the risk.

Kendra has the top down on her pale blue BMW convertible. She and Sally are in the front seat and Meredith is tucked into the back.

“Hop in,” says Kendra, and I assume she means literally since no one is opening a door. So I start to climb over.

“Hang on,” says Sally in a somewhat snooty tone. “I was about to open the door, Reagan!”

“Oh.” I attempt a small laugh at my own expense and wait as she slowly opens the front door, then pops the front seat forward just enough so that I can barely squeeze in. Kendra wasn’t kidding about the size of her car. Five girls would be like sardines in here.

“Good thing none of my friends are fat,” says Kendra as she backs out. “Hang on, girls!” Then she squeals her tires down the street and I hope Nana’s not watching from the front window, because I know she’d worry that I’ll be killed.

I wish I could relax and enjoy this. I mean, it’s a beautiful fall day, and riding in a convertible with friends could be such fun. But I know these girls aren’t really my friends. At least not yet. I hope to win them over, to make them my friends. Being on their side would make my life so much easier. But I know I have to be on my guard. I have to watch every step, every word. And I especially have to watch for any tricks aimed at me. I’m fully aware that today could be a total setup. Kendra could just be pretending to like me so that the three of them can undermine me in some totally humiliating way. It’s ironic, because I’m sure someone could see the four of us driving by and assume that we’re all having such a good time, that we’re close friends, girls on the town, just hanging and enjoying each other. And, okay, that may be true for them. But it’s the farthest thing from the truth for me. Still, maybe someday. If I pass their test.

“Jocelyn made such a fool of herself last night,” says Kendra as we walk across the parking lot.

“Yeah, I heard she puked all over your car,” says Sally.

“Fortunately, she hurled
before
she got in,” I explain.

“Even so, how can you stand hanging with a loser like that?” asks Kendra.

“Yeah,” says Sally. “She probably smelled like barf when you drove her home. Did you have to disinfect your car and everything?”

I force a laugh. “Well, I couldn’t just leave her on the street. Then poor Kendra would’ve been stuck with her. And she’d have some explaining to do to her cleanup crew in the morning.”

“Not to mention the security guard,” adds Kendra.

“So I figured I did everyone a favor by hauling her home.” Okay, if this was a test, I think I passed. They’re laughing and I think they assume that Jocelyn and I are not as good of friends as it may have appeared yesterday.

We go into the mall and as we do the shops, I find out these girls aren’t that much different from my friends back in Boston. We pretty much like the same kinds of fashion, same designers, same shoes, same brands of cosmetics. We all love sushi, green tea, and are comfortable with Greek food. Really, in some ways, it’s a very small world. I find out that Kendra went out with hottie Logan Worthington, but apparently the chemistry wasn’t quite right, since they only went out once. Meredith throws a jab at Kendra, suggesting that perhaps Logan wasn’t as attracted to her as she was to him, but the icy looks this gets her from both Sally and Kendra shut Meredith up pretty quickly. I suspect they shut her down due to my presence.

A reminder to me that I’m still on the outside. I’m still not welcome in their sacred space or allowed to know all their secrets. And I realize I’m being watched. Every move I make, every word I say, is carefully weighed and scrutinized. But I remain on my best behavior. I try to act relaxed, like I’m cool, but I stay alert. I compliment someone when the timing is right, not laying it on too thick, but sounding sincere — and intelligent. I realize it’s important to sound intelligent. It’s one of the things that I’ve learned can really work for me. I am respected for it. As long as I don’t go too far. No one likes to be around Miss Smarty Pants. I learned that lesson in fourth grade when I beat my best friend in a mental math contest, then made sure that everyone in the school knew about it. It’s better to be quietly intelligent. You don’t need to rub anyone’s nose in it.

By the time we’re done and heading home, I feel exhausted. But I think maybe I passed their test. Or, more accurately,
today’s
portion of the test. Who knows how much more is left? But I’m pretty sure it’s not over yet. I thank Kendra for inviting me, tell Sally and Meredith that it was fun getting to know them better, and then say that I’ll see them on Monday.

“I’ll call you,” says Kendra, which actually surprises me, but I just nod like that’s perfectly normal. And that’s when I notice Sally bristle ever so slightly. It’s a small gesture, almost unnoticeable. But like a venomous snake that’s posing to strike, it’s a warning. I remember now that Sally is Kendra’s best friend and obviously unhappy with the idea that Kendra’s befriending me. According to Jocelyn, Sally has occupied this enviable position for at least two years, and I’m sure she’s not willing to relinquish it now. Especially to a newcomer like me.

Watch your step,
I think as I walk toward my front door. Not literally, of course. It’s not like I’m going to trip and fall on my face right now. I’m thinking of Sally. Not only is this test not finished, but it could become even tougher now. And I find this very irksome. I mean, just when I think I don’t have to be on my lookout for Kendra anymore, I realize Sally could be an even worse threat. When will I get a break?

O
N
S
UNDAY MORNING MY MOM ANNOUNCES THAT SHE’S TAKING THE DAY OFF
.

“That’s cool,” I tell her. I want to add,
What else is new?
since she often takes the day off on Sunday — usually to go shopping, her favorite form of stress relief. But I don’t say this. She seems to be grumpy enough already. Why push things? Besides, I got to go shopping yesterday. Even if it wasn’t exactly stress free.

“So you’ll stick around the house then?” she asks as she picks up her new Marc Jacobs bag — the one I’ve been eyeing lately and wish I could borrow sometime because I’m pretty sure it would impress Kendra. One nice thing about my mom is that she really does have good taste, especially for an older woman, and she doesn’t mind spending money on designers either. “You’ll keep an eye on Nana?”

“Sure. Have a good time.” I point to her purse. “I so love that bag, Mom.”

She shakes a finger at me. “You already got my Burberry bag, Reagan. Don’t sneak off with this one next.”

I laugh. “It was just a compliment, Mom. Have fun, okay?”

She smiles. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get you something while I’m out.”

I consider putting in a specific request but think better of it. My mom does not like to be told what to do. Better to just play it safe. “Cool,” I say

I’m actually relieved to spend the day at home without Mom in the house. I’m ready for some R&R. Oh, it’s not that I don’t love my mom. I totally do. But she can be pretty demanding. And the truth is, it’s hard to really relax when she’s home. It’s like she wants me to stay busy or something. I realize this is because Mom has a type A personality, which she is quick to point out to anyone interested. In fact, everyone who knows my mom is fully aware of this. I’ve even overheard coworkers talking behind her back. Naturally, I’d never repeat anything like that to Mom. There would be no point.