Leah on the Offbeat
Page 32
“That’s still almost two hundred dollars.”
“Lee, this isn’t for you to worry about.”
“How can I not worry about it?” There’s a lump forming in my throat. Yet again. This is ridiculous. I’m not even a crier, but now I’m spending half my life on the verge of a breakdown.
“Leah, we’re fine. You know that, right?” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got all that overtime from last month, and we’ve got another check coming in from your dad—”
“I don’t want him paying for this.”
“But you’re okay with him paying for your cell phone? Your sketchpads? Lee, that’s how child support works.”
“Well, it’s gross.”
“Okay, you know what? He’s only paying for another two months, and then you can be as financially independent as you want. But for now, can we just say, hey, it’s done? It’s paid for. He can afford it.” She shakes her head. “Do you have to make everything hard?”
“Excuse me?” I say. And for a moment, we just stare at each other.
She exhales, shoulders sinking. “Look, can we talk about this when I get home?”
“Um. If you want.”
“Okay. Good. Sweetie, please don’t worry about the money, okay? We’re fine, I promise.”
I press my lips together.
“Leah, for real. We’re good. I wouldn’t have bought it if we couldn’t afford it. You know that, right?”
“Okay.” I feel myself softening.
“I love you, okay? I’ll be home at six. I can’t wait to hear about your trip.”
“Love you, too,” I mutter. “And thanks for the dress. I guess.”
She snorts. “Keep playing it cool, Leah. And you’re welcome.”
But I’m not cool. Not even close. I practically rip the garment bag open as soon as we hang up. I stare at the dress.
It’s as perfect as I remember. Maybe more perfect. I forgot how badass flowers can look.
I slip out of my jeans and wriggle into the gown, tugging the zipper up in back. The skirt trails on the floor all the way to the bathroom. We’re talking Beauty and the Beast–level gliding. I fucking love it.
I flip on the bathroom light and peer at my reflection. And it’s sort of a miracle: I don’t look like shit. The yellow of the dress makes my skin look creamy, and my hair falls in loose waves past my shoulders. Even my cheeks look apple-round and flushed. Now I want to stare into the mirror until I memorize myself. I want to cast this version of me in every daydream. This is a Leah who could kick some solid ass. It’s a Leah who could make out for days.
When I get back to my room, my phone screen lights up with a text. I sink onto the bed, still wearing the dress.
It’s Anna. Are you back?
I want to say no. Maybe I could disappear. Just for the rest of spring break. I could hole up in my bedroom and not talk to anyone and spend the next four days cycling through my ever-expanding repertoire of daydreams. Like the one where I’m drumming under a strobe light, wearing my prom dress, totally nailing it, and then Abby catches my eye from the audience, and the music slows, and she’s smiling that quiet half smile I can only assume she does because she’s literally trying to wreck me.
I miss you! Anna adds. Want to do Starbucks on Friday?
Yeah. So now I feel like a dick, because I haven’t even thought about Anna in days. I barely remembered she existed. And even though I’m mad at Morgan, Anna hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m just a shitty, negligent friend.
Yes! Just us?
She writes back with a smiley emoji.
Luckily, Anna’s an early bird, so I can head straight to Starbucks after dropping Mom off at work. But I forgot what a shitshow this place is on Friday mornings. The line for the drive-through is so long, I can barely get into the parking lot, and I end up having to park in the lot for the gentlemen’s club next door. I’m five minutes early, but Anna’s car is already here, and as soon as I step inside, I see her—dark hair in a neat ponytail, back to the door.
She’s sitting across from Morgan.
I’m so angry, I could vomit. My stomach is actually lurching. Morgan catches my eye and murmurs something to Anna, who twists around to smile at me. She waves me over.
I just stand there, staring.
Anna turns back around, leans toward Morgan, presses her hand down on the table and stands. Then she walks straight toward me.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her.
“Leah, no. Come on. You guys need to talk.”
“I can’t believe you lied to me.”
Anna winces. “I didn’t lie.”
“You said it was just us.”
“Technically, I replied with a very ambiguous emoji.”
“It was a smiley! That’s not ambiguous.” I glance over her shoulder at Morgan, who gives me a tentative smile. Yeah, no. I turn away from her quickly. “You knew I didn’t want to talk to her.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “Okay, do you even realize how ridiculous you’re being? It’s senior year. There are two months left of school. Ever. And you guys have been friends since middle school. You’re going to throw that away? Are you that fucking stubborn?”
“Don’t you dare act like this is my fault.”
“God, just stop.” Anna sighs. “Leah, she knows she messed up. She was upset. She said something stupid. Can you please just let her apologize?”
“Abby’s the one she should be apologizing to.”
“Well, you’re the one who’s upset about this.”
“You think Abby’s not upset?” My cheeks are suddenly burning. I can’t even say her name without blushing.
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that. How does Abby even know what Morgan said?” Anna asks, eyes narrowing.
“Are you asking if I told her?”
Anna shrugs.
“Oh my God. That’s seriously what you’re focusing on right now?”
“Leah, don’t do this.” She sighs. “Can you just talk to Morgan. Please?” Her voice softens. “I’m really sick of being in the middle.”
“Then stop putting yourself in the middle.”
“Can you just stop? Okay? I just want things to be normal. We don’t have a lot of time left.”
I look at her, and suddenly I’m eleven years old. A freckly mess of a sixth grader with no friends. Literally none. I’d go to school, come home, and watch TV with Mom. I’d spend lunch periods reading manga in the bathroom. It was right after my dad left, so my mom was always angry or weepy, and the thing about Morgan and Anna is that they were the first people here to give a shit about me. They were my friends even before I knew Simon and Nick existed. So maybe I’m an asshole. Maybe I’m overreacting.
I swear to God, someone tied a knot in my stomach.
Anna shakes her head slowly. “Like, what’s next? Are you going to find a reason to hate me? And Nick? What about Simon? Are you going to shut us all out because you can’t deal with saying good-bye?”
“Okay, that’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it?”
“This isn’t about me,” I snap. “Morgan said something racist. And she didn’t apologize to Abby. So, that’s it. We’re done here.”
I turn on my heel and storm out of Starbucks, leaving Anna standing in front of the counter with her mouth hanging open.
22
SIMON TEXTS ME BEFORE I even get to my car. Can you come to Waffle House? Like right now?
I write back immediately. Eerily perfect timing. Just stepping out of Starbucks. I almost wonder if he knew. Waffle House is so close, I could actually walk there.
Oh awesome—we’re in the back, come find us!
My stomach drops. Us?
Me and Nick, he replies.
Fuck. Fuckstravaganza.
God, the thought of facing Nick right now. I don’t even know how I’ll look him in the eye. What if he just knows? What if he can read it on my face? Guess what, Nick! Guess what I did! With your ex-girlfriend! Who you’re still in love with!
Like, this isn’t some minor fuckup. This is a straight-up friend felony.
“Lee, this isn’t for you to worry about.”
“How can I not worry about it?” There’s a lump forming in my throat. Yet again. This is ridiculous. I’m not even a crier, but now I’m spending half my life on the verge of a breakdown.
“Leah, we’re fine. You know that, right?” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got all that overtime from last month, and we’ve got another check coming in from your dad—”
“I don’t want him paying for this.”
“But you’re okay with him paying for your cell phone? Your sketchpads? Lee, that’s how child support works.”
“Well, it’s gross.”
“Okay, you know what? He’s only paying for another two months, and then you can be as financially independent as you want. But for now, can we just say, hey, it’s done? It’s paid for. He can afford it.” She shakes her head. “Do you have to make everything hard?”
“Excuse me?” I say. And for a moment, we just stare at each other.
She exhales, shoulders sinking. “Look, can we talk about this when I get home?”
“Um. If you want.”
“Okay. Good. Sweetie, please don’t worry about the money, okay? We’re fine, I promise.”
I press my lips together.
“Leah, for real. We’re good. I wouldn’t have bought it if we couldn’t afford it. You know that, right?”
“Okay.” I feel myself softening.
“I love you, okay? I’ll be home at six. I can’t wait to hear about your trip.”
“Love you, too,” I mutter. “And thanks for the dress. I guess.”
She snorts. “Keep playing it cool, Leah. And you’re welcome.”
But I’m not cool. Not even close. I practically rip the garment bag open as soon as we hang up. I stare at the dress.
It’s as perfect as I remember. Maybe more perfect. I forgot how badass flowers can look.
I slip out of my jeans and wriggle into the gown, tugging the zipper up in back. The skirt trails on the floor all the way to the bathroom. We’re talking Beauty and the Beast–level gliding. I fucking love it.
I flip on the bathroom light and peer at my reflection. And it’s sort of a miracle: I don’t look like shit. The yellow of the dress makes my skin look creamy, and my hair falls in loose waves past my shoulders. Even my cheeks look apple-round and flushed. Now I want to stare into the mirror until I memorize myself. I want to cast this version of me in every daydream. This is a Leah who could kick some solid ass. It’s a Leah who could make out for days.
When I get back to my room, my phone screen lights up with a text. I sink onto the bed, still wearing the dress.
It’s Anna. Are you back?
I want to say no. Maybe I could disappear. Just for the rest of spring break. I could hole up in my bedroom and not talk to anyone and spend the next four days cycling through my ever-expanding repertoire of daydreams. Like the one where I’m drumming under a strobe light, wearing my prom dress, totally nailing it, and then Abby catches my eye from the audience, and the music slows, and she’s smiling that quiet half smile I can only assume she does because she’s literally trying to wreck me.
I miss you! Anna adds. Want to do Starbucks on Friday?
Yeah. So now I feel like a dick, because I haven’t even thought about Anna in days. I barely remembered she existed. And even though I’m mad at Morgan, Anna hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m just a shitty, negligent friend.
Yes! Just us?
She writes back with a smiley emoji.
Luckily, Anna’s an early bird, so I can head straight to Starbucks after dropping Mom off at work. But I forgot what a shitshow this place is on Friday mornings. The line for the drive-through is so long, I can barely get into the parking lot, and I end up having to park in the lot for the gentlemen’s club next door. I’m five minutes early, but Anna’s car is already here, and as soon as I step inside, I see her—dark hair in a neat ponytail, back to the door.
She’s sitting across from Morgan.
I’m so angry, I could vomit. My stomach is actually lurching. Morgan catches my eye and murmurs something to Anna, who twists around to smile at me. She waves me over.
I just stand there, staring.
Anna turns back around, leans toward Morgan, presses her hand down on the table and stands. Then she walks straight toward me.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her.
“Leah, no. Come on. You guys need to talk.”
“I can’t believe you lied to me.”
Anna winces. “I didn’t lie.”
“You said it was just us.”
“Technically, I replied with a very ambiguous emoji.”
“It was a smiley! That’s not ambiguous.” I glance over her shoulder at Morgan, who gives me a tentative smile. Yeah, no. I turn away from her quickly. “You knew I didn’t want to talk to her.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “Okay, do you even realize how ridiculous you’re being? It’s senior year. There are two months left of school. Ever. And you guys have been friends since middle school. You’re going to throw that away? Are you that fucking stubborn?”
“Don’t you dare act like this is my fault.”
“God, just stop.” Anna sighs. “Leah, she knows she messed up. She was upset. She said something stupid. Can you please just let her apologize?”
“Abby’s the one she should be apologizing to.”
“Well, you’re the one who’s upset about this.”
“You think Abby’s not upset?” My cheeks are suddenly burning. I can’t even say her name without blushing.
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that. How does Abby even know what Morgan said?” Anna asks, eyes narrowing.
“Are you asking if I told her?”
Anna shrugs.
“Oh my God. That’s seriously what you’re focusing on right now?”
“Leah, don’t do this.” She sighs. “Can you just talk to Morgan. Please?” Her voice softens. “I’m really sick of being in the middle.”
“Then stop putting yourself in the middle.”
“Can you just stop? Okay? I just want things to be normal. We don’t have a lot of time left.”
I look at her, and suddenly I’m eleven years old. A freckly mess of a sixth grader with no friends. Literally none. I’d go to school, come home, and watch TV with Mom. I’d spend lunch periods reading manga in the bathroom. It was right after my dad left, so my mom was always angry or weepy, and the thing about Morgan and Anna is that they were the first people here to give a shit about me. They were my friends even before I knew Simon and Nick existed. So maybe I’m an asshole. Maybe I’m overreacting.
I swear to God, someone tied a knot in my stomach.
Anna shakes her head slowly. “Like, what’s next? Are you going to find a reason to hate me? And Nick? What about Simon? Are you going to shut us all out because you can’t deal with saying good-bye?”
“Okay, that’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it?”
“This isn’t about me,” I snap. “Morgan said something racist. And she didn’t apologize to Abby. So, that’s it. We’re done here.”
I turn on my heel and storm out of Starbucks, leaving Anna standing in front of the counter with her mouth hanging open.
22
SIMON TEXTS ME BEFORE I even get to my car. Can you come to Waffle House? Like right now?
I write back immediately. Eerily perfect timing. Just stepping out of Starbucks. I almost wonder if he knew. Waffle House is so close, I could actually walk there.
Oh awesome—we’re in the back, come find us!
My stomach drops. Us?
Me and Nick, he replies.
Fuck. Fuckstravaganza.
God, the thought of facing Nick right now. I don’t even know how I’ll look him in the eye. What if he just knows? What if he can read it on my face? Guess what, Nick! Guess what I did! With your ex-girlfriend! Who you’re still in love with!
Like, this isn’t some minor fuckup. This is a straight-up friend felony.
