Lucky (12 page)

After we docked, I was collecting my bag of filleted fish from the mate and, turning around, smacked into Luke. “Sorry,” I said.

“Hey,” he said.

I stopped.

“I don’t,” he said.

I felt myself deflate. But what did I expect? And why did he have to rub it in? He had made himself clear already with his silence.

“Whatever,” I said back.

“Wait,” he said, catching up to me on the dock where I was following my father.

“What? I got it. Okay already. You don’t like me. I don’t blame you.”

“No. I mean, I don’t…hate you,” Luke said.

I stopped. He was right behind me. My father kept walking, oblivious. I didn’t want to turn around, and not just because I had my hands full of fish and my teeth full of poppy seed.

“At all,” he whispered, his voice so close to my ear I could feel the breath that carried the words.

I swallowed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said, too.

Then I started walking again, and didn’t look back, even after I was in the car, heading toward home. He didn’t hate me. Not at all.

“You look happy,” Daddy said as we pulled up the driveway.

“I am,” I admitted.

“Me, too,” he said.

Luke doesn’t hate me, I stopped myself from explaining. Not
at all.

Daddy cooked up the bluefish for dinner and everybody went nuts over how delicious it was. That’s all Mom and Dad and Quinn and Allison talked about, rather than everything that was actually happening. Any time there was a silence that threatened to let another topic slip in, one of them would combine the words
bluefish
and
delicious
in a slightly new variation. I hardly tasted it, myself. After all that wind on the boat all day, I could still feel the echo of Luke’s exhale across my left cheek.

T
UESDAY MORNING, JUST AS
the sky started pinking up, I tiptoed down to the kitchen and slid the $110 I had won into the emergency envelope. If it had been ten or twenty times that amount, I might have been tempted to keep it myself and use it to fund the party. Before all this happened, I would’ve just spent it on nothing. It was mine, after all. But it might help somebody in an emergency. That almost empty envelope kept bothering my mind; it felt better to have it filled. And maybe, even, to be the one filling it. I closed the drawer feeling a tiny bit better.

When I heard the new tea kettle already nearing a boil, though, I sprinted back up the stairs and crouched in the upstairs den until my heart stopped pounding. Then I went up to Gosia’s room and waited. When she came out I asked her to drive me to school. She looked at me sadly. I told her I had a really important early meeting before school for a project, which was kind of close to the truth.
She said no problem, go get dressed.

I was taking my chances toasting a waffle when I heard footsteps behind me. Thinking,
Thank goodness Gosia is fast,
I said, “Great, I’m ready, just incinerating a waffle and I’ll eat it in the car.”

“Sounds delicious,” she said, only it wasn’t Gosia, it was Mom.

I spun around. “Oh,” I said.

Behind me the button popped up again. I spun back around, thankful for the distraction. Mom was in her suit already, briefcase in hand, beautiful as ever. The waffle, on the other hand, was still pale and sagging under the weight of its barely melting ice crystals. I opened the door and pulled it out. It crunched when I bit into it, still being solidly frozen beyond the limp damp outer edges. Not gourmet, but I wasn’t about to be forced to eat coal this morning. This morning was already going to be lousy enough.

Coming into the kitchen behind Mom, Gosia jiggled her keys and asked, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my bag with my other hand and rushed toward the back door. Allison was coming down the stairs, with Quinn right behind her. “I have an early meeting!” I said frantically, grabbing my flip-flops from the floor between them.

Allison raised one eyebrow.

“Me, too,” Mom said, head bent over her BlackBerry.

“With the lawyer?” Quinn asked her, pushing past me, but I didn’t wait to hear an answer. Instead I followed Gosia out to the car.

Gosia didn’t turn on her music as we drove and thankfully didn’t talk to me either. The day was gray and chilly and I sank down in my seat, not wanting to watch it go by out the window. At the red light just before school, Gosia held out her pack of gum to me. I took a piece as the light turned green.

“Tough day ahead?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Those are Allison’s flip-flops.”

I looked down. “Yeah.”

“Good luck,” Gosia whispered, slowing to a stop.

“Thanks.” I got out of the car in the deserted circle. After the taillights were gone around the corner, I stopped pretending to rush inside; I let go of the door handle at the front of school and went over to sit down against the brick wall near where the buses drop off. Waiting, I tucked my hands up into my jean jacket sleeves. Despite the gray of the morning, I slipped my sunglasses on. I needed to hide behind them, even if there was no sun. It was hard to believe it had been so hot I’d been sweating, swimming, when? Last week? Though not as hard to believe as the fact that I was sitting there thinking about the weather instead of what to say to Kirstyn, whose bus was pulling into the circle at that very second.

Where was Ann? No way was I doing this myself. How totally unfair!

Kirstyn got off our bus in front of Luke and William, who were deep in conversation, laughing together. They didn’t even glance my way. Kirstyn saw me immediately and ran right over. “Hey,” she said. “I thought you were sick or something. Why weren’t you on the bus?”

Before I could concoct an answer, Gabrielle, getting off the next bus, yelled, “Kirstyn! Phoebe!”

Luke had his back to me, talking to William, Dean, and a few other guys. Like he didn’t even notice me. Like nothing had happened, nothing was going on between us, he was just joking around with his buddies. Well, nothing actually was going on, nothing official. What had I expected? I had other stuff to deal with anyway so it was just as well that he hadn’t come over to say hello or
how was the bluefish
or
will you go out with me
or
can you believe this weather.

“Good weekend?” I asked Kirstyn as Gabrielle made her way toward us. My voice had none of the casual lightness I’d been trying for.

Kirstyn tried to look into my eyes but luckily my sunglasses were a shield. “Not as good as it would’ve been if you’d been there,” she said. Smiling, she turned to Gabrielle. “Right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Gabrielle agreed. “We kept saying something is missing—oh, wait, I know! Phoebe!”
Gabrielle and Kirstyn laughed together at the memory of that hilarious comment. “Seriously. I made my parents promise next time I won’t get shafted like that, so unfair. My brother had four friends there. Why couldn’t I? We brought you and Ann these.”

She held out two yarn bracelets, one pink and red, one yellow and green. I chose the pink and red and Kirstyn was tying it around my wrist when I noticed, first, that she and Gabrielle had yarn bracelets on, too, and second that Ann and Zhara’s bus was disgorging its passengers. Zhara looked more relaxed than ever, her dark hair down in back and the front just held back by a tiny clip. She was wearing a navy and turquoise yarn bracelet and, I noticed as she came closer, slightly sparkly gloss on her dark lips.

Ann, on the other hand, looked like a nervous wreck, her hair standing practically straight up, her face blotchy and puffy, brown eyeliner smudged under her left eye like a bruise.

Kirstyn and Gabrielle were immediately cooing over how pretty Zhara looked, asking if her mother liked her makeover. As Ann chewed on her lower lip, Gabrielle said, “Oh, Ann, we brought you this!” and handed her the bracelet. Ann’s eyes, full of alarm, flicked up to mine. I shrugged; she let Kirstyn tie it on her.

The warning bell was ringing. I had six minutes to do this.
Oh, dread.
I stood up and glanced at Ann, which was a mistake; she interpreted it as a push to start, and she said,
of all things, “Wait. Don’t go in yet. Phoebe and I have something to say.”

We all stared at Ann. Her neck was red and her face was bluish white. She looked dangerously ill. “You okay?” Zhara asked her, putting her hand on Ann’s shoulder.

Ann nodded, pleading with me with her eyes, which made everybody turn and look, horrifyingly, at me.

I tried to smile. “It’s nothing, it’s just…”
Here we go. Do it.
“We were talking about the party.”

“Oh, so were we!” Gabrielle answered, her huge smile lighting up the day. “We couldn’t stop talking about it, or at least Kirstyn couldn’t. I think she may even have roped one of my cousins into coming, and Miles said he’d definitely be there unless he has regionals that night.”

I closed my eyes behind my glasses.

“What?” Gabrielle asked.

Ann was clearly not going to be any help. She was barely breathing, leaning against the wall.

“It’s just…it’s starting to feel a little out of control,” I mumbled.

“Are you kidding?” Gabrielle asked. “It’s totally out of control! The invitations aren’t going out until today and everybody’s already booked hair appointments! Did you hear what those girls—”

“I mean,” I interrupted, “it’s starting to feel like, stupid. Too big, too much, nothing to do with us, really, I mean the five of us, and everybody in our grade and…It’s
just like, I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong, Phoebe?” Zhara asked, looking concerned.

Kirstyn tilted her head at me and said softly, “It’s going to be great, Phoebe, don’t worry. It’s going to be the best night of our lives so far, just like you promised.” She put her arm around me, like comforting me, and that was more than I could take. I shook her off.

“No, Kirstyn,” I said. “It’s not. Forget it. It’s not OUR party anymore, it’s yours. It’s all about you, your taste, what you want, your flower arrangements, your stupid little photo albums, your perfect shoes not dyed to match. It was supposed to be about our friendship, not about you in the green dress, the center of attention as always.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Phoebe,” Gabrielle said. “I can’t believe you would say that.”

I clenched my jaw, thinking,
Sure, you’re Kirstyn’s new best friend, you should defend her, Gabrielle. Just watch out when she finds somebody new and drops you, too.

“If you want the green dress, you can have it,” Kirstyn said.

“It is totally not about the green dress,” I shrieked, louder than I’d intended. I tried to settle my voice, my breathing, my heart. “It’s just…tacky, the whole overblown party. My parents think it’s disgusting, and honestly so do my sisters, and so do I. And so does Ann.”

“You do?” Zhara asked Ann.

“I guess,” Ann said meekly.

“She does,” I said. “We just feel like it’s ridiculous and gross and honestly I don’t want to be a part of something that reeks of
ooh, look how great and rich and pretty we are
!”

Now it was not just my small circle of friends staring at me, it was everybody on their way into school. Even Bridget Burgess stopped, her hands in the pockets of the jeans that used to be Quinn’s, and watched as if this were a show being put on for her benefit.

Luke turned around. When he saw me, he smiled a little. “How was the bluefish?” he asked.

“Um, good,” I answered.

“She caught like a thirty pounder,” he said to my friends, who nodded a little numbly.

“We’re kind of in the middle of a big fight here,” Gabrielle told him.

“Yeah, I gathered,” Luke said as the bell rang. “Well, you going in?” he asked me.

“Um, soon,” I said.

“Flirt much?” Kirstyn asked coldly.

“No,” I said, not looking at Luke.

“Why don’t you just admit you like him already, Phoebe?”

I glared at her. Forget it. I wasn’t giving in anymore, I was just sick of it. Too bad. “I did,” I said. “I do. I like him. I admit it.”

“It’s about time,” Kirstyn said.

“Yeah,” Luke said, behind me.

“I just think it’s so lame when a person feels like she has to hide the truth from her best friends,” Kirstyn said. “It’s so…insulting.”

“It’s not about
you
, Kirstyn,” I said. “Believe it or not, not everything is about you!”

“I never said it was,” she snapped back. “I was talking about
you
!”

“Well, we’ll be late…” Luke said. He waited a second but we weren’t budging, obviously, so he and his buddies headed in.

Kirstyn and I had turned away from each other. I could see Gabrielle looking back and forth between us but I wasn’t backing down this time.

“Come on, you guys,” Gabrielle whispered. “Let’s just forget this happened and go in. By lunchtime we’ll…”

“No, Gabrielle,” I said. “We can’t just move on, and not everything is fine. Kirstyn said it herself—‘
I think it’s clear to all of us that this is good-bye
.’ Remember? Well, I for one just don’t see any reason to have my good-byes catered and photographed.”

“You’re not…” Zhara started. “You don’t want to do the party?”

I glared at her.

She swallowed hard. “So wait, just the four of us, then, or, Ann, are you pulling out, too?”

“I guess,” Ann said.

Zhara put her hand on her hip. “How can we…”

“We can’t,” Kirstyn said, flipping her sunglasses down onto her face. “We’ll just cancel.”

“But what about the deposit?” Zhara asked.

“My mother will take care of it, don’t worry,” Kirstyn said. “It will be worth it to me, to be done with this whole thing. I never wanted to do the stupid party in the first place.”

“That’s not what you were saying this weekend,” Gabrielle objected.

“Shut up, Gabrielle,” Kirstyn said. “Phoebe is right. It’s over.” She turned and stormed toward school, leaving the rest of us, as always, to straggle in after her.

I
WON
,
I
TOLD MYSELF
. I did it.
And it went surprisingly smoothly, too.

So why did I feel so bad?

I ambled through my classes, doodling in my now-useless party planning speckled notebook, with the purple Sharpie Kirstyn had bought in the five-pack, to give us each one. Everything was connected to her. We did our best not to look at each other. Well, actually everybody was doing their best to stay out of my way. I went to the library at lunch and opened my party planning notebook and began a list:

R
EASONS
I
AM LUCKY TO BE OUT OF THE PARTY

• 1. No other choice—had to get out of it
  
• 2. You can’t choose friends over family
  
• 3. Green dress
  

Then I cried for a minute, hiding behind the math textbook I was pretending to study. I tore out that page and started a new list on the next:

W
HY
I
HATE MYSELF

• 1. I just wrecked my friendship with my best friend.
  
• 2. Maybe she’s selfish and materialistic, but she’s been my best friend for four years.
  
• 3. I’m not going to have a graduation party.
  
• 4. Nobody likes me anymore.
  
• 5. I am in the library at lunch.
  
• 6. The way Kirstyn looked at me just before she went in to school.
  
• 7. The way she hasn’t looked at me since.
  
• 8. I am probably going to have to sit in the high school library every lunch period for the next four years.
  
• 9. Kirstyn will never forgive me and neither will any of my other friends, ex-friends I mean, because I have no friends now.
  

I sat there reading over my list for a while. It was really bad. But the main reason wasn’t on it. As the end-of-lunch bell rang, I added a final reason to hate myself:

• 10. As much bad stuff as I can (and did) say about Kirstyn, she is not the real reason I canceled the party, and I blamed her anyway.
  

I collected my books and left the library. All afternoon I tried to convince myself that it didn’t really matter. What I had said was all true. It was ridiculous to spend so much money, or make our parents spend it, for an eighth-grade graduation party. Kirstyn does like to be the center of attention. She does want to exclude people, and she does look down on you if your family is not in the same league as hers. Even if I had told her the truth, it would have ended our friendship anyway, probably. The Phoebe she liked was happy, smooth, easy, untroubled. But that’s not me anymore. So what does it matter, ultimately, if I blamed her? She is at fault on some level. Isn’t she?

I didn’t go to track, even though our last meet of the year was coming up in two days and if you miss a practice you don’t run. I didn’t care. No way could I have run anyway. I could barely drag myself up to the speed of sulk. I sank down in the back row of the early bus and kept my eyes closed the whole way home.

Mom was sitting on the front steps when I got there, talking on her cell phone and fiddling absently with her necklace, the sapphire on the thin silver chain. She hung up as I got to the walk. She was wearing thick socks, jeans, and a pale pink long-sleeve T-shirt.

I stopped in front of her. Maybe she wanted to be alone. She looked kind of like a kid, her arms resting on her knees like that. I wondered for the first time in my life if it might be better to have a mom who was big and chubby
and could gather me in her arms and rock me.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she said.

I swallowed. “Well…I guess I’ll go in and…”

“Wait.”

I stopped.
Oh, dread.
I sat down a few feet from her on the front step and looked at the front yard, out to our hedges that were still only medium.

She sighed, kind of sadly.

I should never come home early,
I thought.
What if she started to cry? I wouldn’t know how to deal with that at all. She’s the mom. The grown-up. She’s not supposed to fall apart, especially not in front of me. I can’t handle it!

My hand levitated again and hovered near her shoulder and then, almost maybe by accident, landed on it. I felt her boney shoulder tense under my fingers and I almost pulled away, scalded, but then, I didn’t.

Her shoulder relaxed.

I slipped my hand around to her other shoulder and pulled her toward me. She came easily and rested her head against my shoulder. Neither of us said anything more. We just sat there like that and I looked out at the tulips blooming down by the hedges, which I had never noticed before. It was nice, kind of. It felt good. It was weirdly comforting, to comfort her.

“You know what’s so dumb?” she asked, pulling away.

Me?
“What?” I was a little disappointed but also a little
relieved because my arm was starting to fall asleep. It’s not in shape for that, I guess.

“Double doors.” She pointed behind us to the massive entrance we never use.

“That’s what’s dumb?”

“I was so freakishly proud of these double doors. The day we bought the house, while you girls were in school, Daddy and I came over after we signed the contracts and I threw these double doors open and stood in the wide space there, surveying all the grandeur I had just bought for my family.”

She stood up and winced a bit. Her right leg looked stiff.

“That was the last time I ever opened those doors. I tried today and I couldn’t get them open. I think I lost the key.”

“Oh,” I said. “Maybe it’s in the drawer with the tape.”

“No, I looked.” Hands on hips, she turned to face the front lawn. “It’s just so…emblematic. This is hard on you girls, I know that, and I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”

“No, Mom, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.” She sat back down beside me, wincing a little. “You can’t own your victories if you won’t admit your failures, you know?”

I kind of shrugged. I didn’t know, really. It sounded right, but everything she says does, and it’s only later that
I realize I didn’t really know what she meant.

“I got an interesting call this afternoon,” Mom said.

“Oh?” I hated the tremor in my voice.

“From Kirstyn’s mother,” she said. “I admit I always kind of thought of her as a little, what? Annoying. A small-minded materialistic busybody, if I’m completely honest.”

I sat on my hands to hide their shaking. “Wha…Why did she call?”

“She called about your graduation party.”

“Again?” I asked. Mom looked surprised at the question so I added, “Daddy said she left a message.” I tried to hold down the panic. “What did you tell her? I told Daddy I was handling it myself.”

“Yes, well, apparently she called
again
last night after dinner, and spoke to Daddy about your party. He told her he thought that you girls had canceled the party. She said absolutely not, she knew nothing about that.”

“I, see, the reason…” I stammered, but luckily Mom interrupted me.

“You were working on that angle?”

“Yes.”

“I figured,” she said. “Well, meanwhile, my check for the down payment for your party bounced. You know what that is, right? When a check bounces?”

“Yes,” I said. We were all business, me and Mom, having a quiet little conference there on the front step. “What did Daddy tell her?”

“Kirstyn’s mother thought that there was a bank mis
take. Your father, I gather, corrected that impression.” She sniffed once. Her eyes focused on the hedges bordering our lawn. “He told her that there was an
issue
—that was his word—an
issue
for me at work and we couldn’t afford—”

“No! He told her that?” I demanded. I stood up and kicked the step. “I can’t believe he did that to me!”

“To you?”

I gripped my jaw tight and stared at the stone landing under my feet. Rain drops were starting to fall. Great, just great.

“When she called me, just before, on my cell, I was blindsided myself.”

“What did she say?” My voice was cool and quiet again, like Mom’s.

“Well, honestly, she could not have been more gracious.” Mom took a deep breath and let it out with a small half chuckle. “She asked how I was holding up.” Mom sighed, then continued. “And she said, and I agree, that the adult work world and its
issues
are nothing for you girls to worry about. She said,
Please do not give it one moment’s thought.
”

“Meaning what?” I asked.

“Meaning, she wants to pay our share of the graduation party.”

“No!” I didn’t care that I was screaming. “Absolutely not!”

“My words exactly. I said we were not comfortable taking charity from—”

“Charity?! Oh, my God.”

“Right. Her position was that it wasn’t charity but friendship.”

“You don’t even like each other!”

“True. But she meant you and Kirstyn. Apparently you have been a wonderful friend to Kirstyn these past few years. Her mother thinks the world of you, Phoebe. She went on and on about how beautiful your friendship with Kirstyn is and how important it is to celebrate that. She said she actually envied what you and Kirstyn share, because she never had that, herself—close friends she could really count on. She’s so happy Kirstyn has that, with you.”

She knew. It suddenly hit me. Kirstyn knew. She stood there and took it from me this morning, I realized, even though she knew the truth.
Because
she knew it. “The party is off.” I closed my eyes. “I canceled it.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’ll find a way…. This isn’t your problem.”

“Too late,” I said. “I canceled it this morning.”

“Oh.” Mom blinked twice. “Because of my…issues?”

“Because of a lot of things.”

Mom nodded. “Okay, then. Generous of her to offer, though. I’ll have to send her a note. Let’s go inside. I have a conference call at three thirty.”

She picked up my bag. I followed her down the walk toward the door we actually use, but didn’t go up the step. She turned around after she opened the screen door and
said, “Come on in, it’s raining.”

I shook my head. I knew where I had to go.

“What are you doing?” she asked impatiently. “I have to—”

“You said, remember with the tea kettle, the drippy one? You said we are the Avery women; we will never be intimidated.” The rain running down my face fell into my mouth when I opened it to talk. I didn’t really care. “But I was. I was intimidated. I wanted you to be proud of me. I tried to act strong, be like you, but I’m not. I’m always intimidated. Did you know that about me?”

“Phoebe, come inside and we’ll…Where do you think you’re going?”

I had turned away and was walking the rest of the way down the path, arms crossed over my chest, toward the driveway. “To Kirstyn’s,” I said.

“It’s pouring!” Her BlackBerry was ringing. She wasn’t answering it.

I stopped and turned to face my mother. “I thought I was a Valkyrie.”

She tilted her head at me.

“But I wasn’t. Kirstyn was.”