The List (8 page)

t’s the homecoming dance, and Abby is pressed against a boy, her cheek snuggled on his brushed flannel shirt. They shuffle to a song she doesn’t recognize, the music fuzzy and deep and far away, like when you hold your fingers in your ears next to the DJ speakers. Abby is in her perfect dress, the black one with the white ribbon sash, and the layer of tulle under the skirt rustles against her legs. A disco ball spins overhead, flashing tiny patches of light over the gymnasium floor. As Abby twirls, the light falls on the faces of the couples dancing around her. Everyone smiles in her direction. The whole thing is warm and soft, the way the best dreams are.

But then it falls away.

Abby loses the dream to the whip of fabric, the slap of morning cold.

She opens her eyes and sees Fern standing over her. Fern lets Abby’s quilt fall on the bedroom floor.

“What’s going on?” Abby mumbles, still half-asleep and suddenly freezing. She pulls her sheet up around her.

“Our alarm didn’t go off.” Abby hears the accusation in her sister’s voice, as if Abby had been the one to screw it up. “I’ve totally missed academic decathlon practice.” Fern clicks on their bedroom light. “Hurry up and get dressed. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

Abby sits up and shields her eyes from the brightness. Fern is
already dressed, her bed made. She tosses her textbooks into her bag. “Five minutes? But I need to shower!”

“There’s no time,” Fern says, and walks out of their room.

Abby stands so fast she gets woozy, but manages to make it to the bathroom without falling. Five minutes tick down to four.

Her hair is unwashed and dented from having been slept on, so she twists it into a little knot at the nape of her neck, and then braids the front section so it runs across the edge of her forehead and down behind one ear. She washes her face, brushes her teeth, puts on a touch of blush. Because there is no time left to actually plan an outfit, Abby throws on a navy wool A-line dress with cream kneesocks and her new brown loafers, and wraps a striped scarf around her neck. She loves the fresh-faced schoolgirl look, even if her grades don’t match up to her studious image.

Abby stops at the foyer mirror on her way out the front door. She looks fine. Better than fine, considering the five minutes she had, but it disappoints her that she won’t be looking her absolute best this morning. She hopes her classmates won’t take one look at her and think her inclusion on the list was a mistake. Already the list has made her a person to notice. She’s never had so many people smile at her before. Strangers, girls and guys from every single grade, acknowledging who she is, congratulating her for being prettiest. She spent four weeks as an anonymous freshman to most, and as Fern’s stupid little sister to her teachers, but now Abby is somebody in her own right.

Only one person didn’t mention the list yesterday. Fern. Maybe she is hurt about the genetics comment. Or maybe the only list Fern cares about is honor roll.

Abby runs out of the front door, closing it so hard, the knocker taps a couple of times. Her family is already in the car, waiting. She hears the monotone voices of news radio through the closed windows.

Fern coughs as Abby slides into the backseat. “God, Abby. How much perfume did you put on?”

Abby pulls her arms inside her dress sleeves. “I only used two squirts.” And anyway, it’s her cupcake perfume. Who doesn’t like the smell of freshly baked cupcakes?

Fern inches away until she’s pressed against the passenger-side door and then opens the window, even though it’s cold outside. “I feel like I’m going to throw up a pile of icing.”

Abby leans forward to the front seat. “Hey, Dad? Can I get ten dollars for my homecoming dance ticket?”

“Sure,” Mr. Warner says. He pulls out his wallet.

“Fern?” Mrs. Warner asks, eyeing her older daughter in the rearview mirror. “Do you want money for a ticket, too?”

“I’m not going,” Fern says in a way that implies they should have already known that.

Abby watches her mother share a look with her father. “Oh? Why not?”

“Because the
Blix Effect
movie is opening this weekend and all my friends are going to see it.”

“Why don’t you see the movie on Friday?” Abby asks. “Then you can go to the dance on Saturday.” Not that she cares if Fern goes to the homecoming dance or not. She’s just saying. It
is
possible.

Fern doesn’t look at Abby while she answers. Instead she speaks to their parents, as if they were the ones who’d
posed the question. “Because we’re going to see the movie on both nights, two different theaters. Once in 3-D and once in regular.”

Abby stares at Fern, utterly perplexed. She knows the Blix Effect novels are super popular, but who wants to see the same movie twice, back-to-back? The homecoming dance is so much more exciting, more special. It’s a once-a-year thing, and the only dance at Mount Washington High that every grade is allowed to attend.

Her sister must see her staring, because Fern suddenly pulls her hair out from behind her ear and lets it cover her face. The morning sun lights up Fern’s split ends. Fern’s hair is the flattest shade of brown, without any of the reddish highlights Abby had gotten when she was at the beach.

Abby scoots across the backseat and takes Fern’s hair in her hands. “Do you want me to twist up your hair for you, Fern? I could do it like mine, so it’s up off your face.”

“No thanks,” Fern says, jerking her head so her hair pulls out of Abby’s grasp.

“Come on, Fern. It’s all ratty in the back. Trust me. It’ll look so much better this way.” Abby doesn’t know why she’s being so nice, seeing that Fern is giving her major attitude. But it feels mean to know Fern looks like crap and not do anything to help her, especially after the list had compared them.

Fern whips around. Her eyes are big and angry, but she sighs and pulls an elastic off her wrist. “If you want to do two French braids for me, fine. But I’m not walking around school looking like I’m your twin.”

It is the last thing Fern says to her. Abby does the French braids, and the rest of the car ride is silent.

When they pull up to Mount Washington, Fern bolts past Freshman Island and goes straight into school.

Lisa sits, leaning against the base of the ginkgo tree, doing homework. “Morning, Abby!” she calls as Abby walks over.

“Hey,” Abby says and kneels down next to her. The ground is cold and hard, and not all that comfortable in a dress, but she doesn’t feel like standing. She doesn’t feel like doing much of anything, to be perfectly honest.

“What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“Nothing.” What was there to say, after all? She and Fern hadn’t fought, exactly.

“Well, I’ve got some news that might cheer you up. Bridget said she’d take me shopping for homecoming dresses on Thursday. I know it’s kind of late in the week, but she hasn’t been feeling well. Anyway, do you want to come with us? She said it’s totally cool if you do.”

Abby picks at some dead grass and wishes that she could have the kind of relationship with Fern that Lisa does with Bridget. But Lisa has so much in common with Bridget. Abby and Fern are as different as could be. Abby wonders if she and Fern would even like each other at all if not for the fact that they were related.

Probably not.

“That would be awesome, Lisa. Thanks. And tell Bridget I said thank you, too.”

Lisa doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, so Abby looks up from the ground. Lisa is staring off into the distance.

“Oh my god, Abby!”

“What?”

“Act natural,” Lisa whispers tersely, “but practically every
sophomore boy on the varsity football team is coming over here right freaking now.”

“Seriously?”

Lisa pushes her black hair behind her ear. “Like this?” Then she shakes it out. “Or like this?”

Abby threads the hair back for her friend. “Like this,” she says. “What about me? Do I look okay? I had, like, zero time to get ready this morning.”

Lisa pouts. “Are you kidding? You always look beautiful.”

It is a little compliment, and not even one that Abby is inclined to believe. But it still is nice to hear.

About six sophomore boys walk casually across the lawn toward Freshman Island. It is unheard of, really, for any non-freshmen to be seen around the ginkgo tree.

“Hey, Abby,” the biggest boy says. His name is Chuck. Abby knows this because Chuck is the biggest sophomore boy in the school, and he usually smells like musk. “Nice job on the list yesterday.”

“Thanks,” Abby says, quickly looking over the rest of them. A few of the boys are definitely cute. Chuck, not so much. But he is the only one making eye contact with her. So that’s where Abby focuses.

“I wanted to let you know that a bunch of us are going to be hanging out at Andrew’s house after the homecoming dance.” Abby doesn’t know who Andrew is, but she assumes it’s the skinny boy who Chuck punches on the arm. “His parents are going out of town, and we’re going to get some beers. If you two want to stop by, you can.”

Abby looks at Lisa, who is grinning a smile of metal. She can tell Lisa is excited, and Abby herself is excited, too. But
she tries to play it cool. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m not sure what we’re doing yet.”

“We’re probably not doing anything,” Lisa quickly adds.

Chuck laughs. “Well, don’t spread the word, okay? We don’t want every freshman thinking they can come over. It’s just you two who are invited. And maybe a couple of your other friends, if you want. But no guys.”

“It might not even happen,” Andrew says. “My parents might come home early. Who knows?” From the grimace on Andrew’s face, Abby can’t tell whether he’s upset or relived that his party might be canceled.

Chuck gives Andrew a hard elbow. “Excuse my buddy, here. He’s having a bad week. Look, ladies, unless you hear otherwise from me, the party is
on
,” Chuck says, and then starts to walk backward, away from Abby and Lisa. His friends follow.

When the boys are out of earshot, Lisa grabs Abby’s arm tight. “Um, did that actually happen?”

Abby laughs. “I think it did!”

Lisa looks like she might explode. “I can’t wait to tell Bridget! She is going to freak! She never got invited to a single nonfreshman party when she was my age.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “She says it was because she was pudgy back then.”

Abby shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t remember Bridget ever being pudgy.”

“Exactly.” Lisa twirls her finger around in a tiny circle next to her head. “She’s totally crazy. I bet boys were too nervous to talk to her. But seriously, this is so exciting.” She takes a deep breath. “I mean, they only asked us because you are on the list. Abby, you have no idea how lucky I feel to be your best friend.”

“Thanks, Lisa. That means a lot.”

The first bell rings, and the two friends hurry inside. Abby is glad to see a few copies of the list still hanging up, despite Principal Colby asking the janitors to take them down.

It was a relief that no one volunteered any information about who might have made the list during yesterday’s meeting. Abby didn’t want the person who had rewarded her to get in trouble, even if other people were mad about it.

Abby sees Fern standing near the water fountain with her friends and suddenly gets the urge to tell her about the party and invite her along. Chuck did say she could bring whomever she wanted. It might be a way to smooth things over from their kind-of fight this morning.

Abby walks over and waits for Fern to notice her.

It takes a while.

Finally, Fern turns her head. “Yeah?”

“Guess what.”

“What?” Fern asks.

“I got invited to a party after the homecoming dance.”

“Oh,” Fern says flatly. “Congratulations.”

Abby watches Fern turn her attention back to her friends. She can sense it’s her cue to leave, but she keeps talking. “And the guys told me I could bring whoever I wanted with me. I know you’re planning to go to the movie, but maybe you’d want to stop by afterward. I could find out from Chuck where Andrew lives and give —”

Fern finally looks back at her. “Wait. Whose party are you talking about?”

“Chuck and some other sophomores. It’s going to be at this guy Andrew’s house. His parents are away.” Abby considers
telling Fern about the beer they’d have there, but decides against it. It wouldn’t be a selling point for Fern.

Fern laughs haughtily. “I’m a junior, Abby. Why would I want to go to a sophomore party?” Fern makes a funny face at her friends, and they all laugh, too.

Abby feels suddenly hot. She unwinds her scarf from her neck. “Okay. Whatever. I thought I’d ask to be nice.”

As she walks away, Abby bites her lip and holds in what she really wants to say — that Fern and her friends would
never
get invited to a junior party, never mind a sophomore party. Instead, she just pulls up her kneesocks as they slide down her legs.