A Tale of Two Besties (30 page)

“Really?” I said, trying to wipe off my face with my blazer sleeves. “But, what about our pact? I totally broke it. I didn't stay true to who I was, and I let you down, and I let my grandma down . . . I let everyone down!” I started to bawl again.

“Psh, a temporary slip. I know that you don't actually feel that you need to wear anything to be you. I notice that you're not wearing your wings now, for instance!”

“Only metaphorically,” I said, cracking a smile.

“Oh, well, of course,” said Harper, returning my smile.

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I should have been there right by your side at the Ranch, pretending to be drunk with you and telling Derek that he better treat you right or I'd come after him with every superpower in my repertoire. I guess I just assumed that you were okay without me. Because you're always okay. But I know now that that's not fair to you. As you said, we're all human beings . . .”

“Yes, even us superheroes are still human beings at heart.”

“Exactly. So. Forgive me?” I said, letting one last tear fall down my cheek. Harper let out a big mock sigh. “Ohh, I suppose.
On a temporary trial basis.
” She gave me a sly wink.

“Well, maybe I can get off early for good behavior? Or maybe a bribe will help?” I reached into my blazer pocket and pulled out my secret weapon: two jagged pieces of gold attached to two delicate chains. Our broken heart BFF necklaces. After Harper left me alone in the bathroom, the first thing I did was gather up her half and make sure it was clean and safe inside my bag.

“My necklace! You saved it. Thank you.” Harper fished her half out of my hand and fastened it around her neck.

When I'd imagined my reunion hug with Harper, I pictured it like one of those slow-mo, on-the-beach moments with some terrible jazz playing in the background. Maybe I would twirl her and promise never to leave her again while the ocean surf sprayed on our feet.

In reality, it was just a comfortable, familiar bestie hug, the kind I'd been missing worse than I'd realized for the past several weeks. Then, suddenly we both seemed to catch on to how cold it had gotten, because we both started shivering.

“Shall we?” Harper said, nodding toward the boardwalk.

“Definitely,” I said, and we both started walking homeward.

“Hey Lily,” Harper said in the waning light after a few moments of silence. “Guess what?”

“What?” Our feet made crooked crisscrosses through each other's shoeprints.

“I actually really liked your friends Jane and Drew. They seem cool and nice. I'm happy you found people who really like you at Pathways, and that you're finding out what you like to do and who you are. That's important. I'm sorry if I ever seemed like I was jealous of that part of it. I'm actually so proud that you're in a band.”

“Hey, thanks! You know, I'm actually really proud of us, too. I mean, it's so silly but I guess at this point it's the only extracurricular I'm involved with. Well, besides NAMASTE . . . for now.”

“Can you just tell me one thing?” Harper asked slyly when we got to the boardwalk, which was lively as usual and filled with the scents of all kinds of delicious treats. I could feel my mouth begin to salivate over the idea of food—any food—as long as it was deep-fried and not macrobiotic. “Can someone please, please explain to me what you guys actually do in this cult of yours? Like, what does NAMASTE actually do?”

I opened my mouth with the answer ready, but in that moment it must have flown away. Maybe it was the owl of Minerva that had stolen the words from me, on her way to warn the next poor schlubs who would be too late to save themselves from Pathways' mind-meld.

Instead I laughed. “You know?” I said, throwing my arm around Harper's shoulders. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Going back to school on Monday was difficult. Everything was the same, but completely different all at once. Lily and I were friends again, but after everything that happened, things still felt a little tense between us. And while I appreciated that Tim had played the go-between to set us up together, I still found myself irrationally annoyed that he'd more or less tricked me.

Per usual, I was definitely not in a rush to get to history, where I knew Kendall and Derek, the “it's complicated” couple, would be cozily snuggled up together in the back. I made sure to come in at the last possible moment (but not too late to get detention—it's an art, really), and slid into my seat with my eyes looking straight ahead.

“Hey,” said an all-too familiar voice. I could feel Tim on the edges of my peripheral vision, tapping a pen cap on the edge of his desk. “Harper, what's up?”

“Hi, Tim.” I bent down and pulled a pen and piece of paper from my bag, explicitly not making eye contact with him.

“What's up? What happened with you and Lily? You haven't answered any of my texts.” His tapping increased in tempo.

“I've just been pretty busy, that's all,” I said curtly. “Can you please stop tapping your pen? It's driving me nuts.”

He stopped, clearly stung. “Sorry.”

When I didn't turn around again, he poked me with the tip of his pen. “Hey, are you mad at me? Because—”

“I'm not mad,” I hissed, turning on him suddenly. “Why would I be mad? I'm just annoyed because . . . because . . .” I floundered. In truth, I had no idea why I was so pissed off. “Because you're always, like,
inserting
yourself into my life.”

This time, Tim was so surprised that he dropped his pen and had to make a grab for it as it rolled away toward the floor. As soon as he sat back up, class had officially started. I could feel him looking at me throughout the entire period with those hurt, quizzical eyes, and I had to really suppress my Empathy Powers so as not to turn and tell him directly, in front of the whole class:
I'm upset because I spend so much time worrying about what other people feel that I literally have no idea what I'm feeling. About anything. Ever.

I felt so on edge for the entire fifty-minute class, and when the bell rang I practically jumped out of my skin from a combination of surprise and relief. I decided I couldn't risk Tim trying to catch up to me in the hall, so I decided to just keep freezing him out and stall a while to make him leave first. As everyone else filed out, I pretended to be busy on my phone, while Tim just sat there, relentlessly giving me those puppy eyes.

“Okay, well. See you later, I guess,” Tim said, finally getting up from his desk when the second-period bell rang. As he passed me, I smelled that woodsy-clean scent of his again, and I furiously swiped at my phone to overcompensate for the fact that my hands were shaking. I watched him walk away from me and didn't take another breath until he disappeared down the hall.

“Hey, Carina.”

I looked up. Derek Wheeler waltzed back into the classroom, slinging his backpack into Tim's empty seat behind me. He yanked on my braid, like a fifth-grader demanding attention, when I refused to acknowledge his presence. He tugged again and I looked over reluctantly, but my scowl turned into an
O
of surprise when I saw his T-shirt.

“Hey, Derek,” I said, as neutrally as I could, while scanning the room to look for signs of Kendall. I was in the clear. “Is that your D.A.R.E. shirt from . . . fourth grade? You still have it?”

“Yeah, well,” Derek smiled, wrapping his finger around my braid. “I remember you said you liked it.”

“I said I remembered it, not that I liked it or that you should bring it out of retirement.” I pried my hair out of his hands. “I mean, god, hasn't it disintegrated from all the combined stink particles and subsequent hosings?”

For a moment, Derek look embarrassed. He flicked his hair to the front of his face as if it were a shield that could protect him from ridicule. “I actually bought it new, yesterday,” he shrug-mumbled behind his hair. “When you mentioned it the other night, it kind of got me thinking how much I loved that shirt.”

I just looked back at him and nodded, completely perplexed as to what was going on.

“Anyway.” Derek shook back his fluttering mane like a surly pony. “I've actually been meaning to talk to you. . . .”

“So talk,” I said.

“About the other night.”

“Sure.” Was I still nodding? I had to forcibly stop my head from moving in an agreeable motion.

“I'm sorry I let Kendall take that video of you. You were so good at pretending to be drunk and I honestly thought it would make for a funny scene in my movie, but then she uploaded it to SchoolGrams without telling me. I felt really bad about it, and, uh, I didn't know how to approach you about it.”

Huh. I must have missed the part in my horoscope that said October would bring me a record number of apologies.

“It's just that . . . you kind of intimidate me,” Derek went on after a pause. He pulled his dark, wiry eyebrows together in what looked like an attempt at deep thought.

“Sorry?”

“You just come off as so, I don't know . . . put together. Like you have everything figured out and live this, like, perfect TV commercial life.”

“Uh.” I said.
TV commercial?
What commercials was Derek watching? My life was as put together as a telenovela soap opera. Minus the murder and secret love children, but still. “Thanks for that, Derek, but now that everyone's seen that video the most obvious comparison for my life would be the nightly story on
TMZ
.”

Derek laughed. “See? You can make me laugh, and I don't even think girls are funny.”

Wow.
And he actually said this like he was proud of it.

“Okay, well, good talk, Derek,” I began gathering up my things, still totally overwhelmed by this turn of events. “But you should probably get out of here before Kendall sees you talking to me.”

At the mention of her name, Derek rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Despite his dreamy physique, I realized he was still just a little kid.

“Kendall and I are
not
dating. She doesn't own me. Plus, the other reason I wanted to talk to you is . . . uh . . . well, I wanted to give you this.” Before I could move, Derek jerked into me and fastened his lips onto mine.

For a moment I was too stunned to do anything. All I could think about was how chapped his lips were, and how he really needed to moisturize his stubble area. Plus, his hair obviously hadn't been washed in a while and he gave off a patchouli-scented funk.

“Mmph!” I said after I somehow regained my full senses, my arms pin-wheeling out until I hit Derek in the chest. “Mrrrph!”

“What's wrong?” Derek pulled back, and I had to do everything in my power not to wipe my lips in disgust.

Suddenly, I heard a cough behind me.

“Sorry.” It was Tim. “I just forgot my notebook,” he said stonily, standing in the doorway. Had he seen everything? “Didn't mean to interrupt.”

“No problem man,” Derek smiled, clearly supremely pleased with himself. Tim gave us one more angry glare then turned on his heels, stalking off without even pretending to come in and retrieve his imaginary lost notebook. Every single one of my nerve endings wanted to run after him, but what would I say? I didn't know how to explain how I felt about him, so here I was taking the easy route with a guy I had absolutely zero complicated feelings for.

“Derek,” I said gently, reaching into my pocket and leaning in toward him.

“Yeah?” He leaned in, too.

“Here's some ChapStick. Please . . . for Kendall's sake . . . use it.” The last thing I saw as I ran out the door was Derek's look of total confusion. I knew I'd treasure it forever.

I texted Lily immediately.

I considered leaving my wings at home the next day, but in the end I couldn't do it. I needed them for one last appearance as LilyFairy, the freshman representative of NAMASTE.

It was the day of our NAMASTE council meeting, the first one since Nicole had given her speech out in the Lane. Without my diaphanous appendages, I would be just looking for trouble, and I wanted to be as in control as possible. Nicole had already made it known that she thought the “best me I could be” was the one that dressed exactly as she decreed. But with Jane and Drew and even Nicole now sporting their own versions of my persona, I was beginning to feel like one of those characters from Dr. Seuss. You know, a Star Bellied Sneetch, or one of the Sneetches with no stars, who then gets a star, but then all the other Sneetches get stars and now the stars aren't as special anymore.

I was walking around aimlessly during my morning free period when I heard a familiar, welcome voice.

“Why, hello young sprite, you seem to have lost your way!” I looked up from my texts with Harper (I hadn't realized how much I had missed talking to her like a normal person!) and saw Drew smiling goofily up at me from his usual spot on the grass. He wasn't wearing his wings, and instead had his guitar slung to his back. Bold move. “Where are you off to on this fine Monday morning?”

“Oh, you know. Fighting crime, saving the world. The usual.”

“Sit down.” He patted the grass. “Rest awhile.” I took a seat and texted Harper one last time

before turning my attention to Drew. “Want a macaron?” he asked, pulling out a tin from his knapsack.

“Only if you're sure you won't tell anyone how you're contributing to the plight of those overworked sugar granules.”

Drew laughed and stretched out with the ease of a guy who spends most of his free time in downward facing dog and handed me a honey-flavored macaron. And then a bright pink pistachio one. And then a coconut. Before long, half the box was gone.

“Oh, my sweet lord,” I moaned, spraying crumbs everywhere. “My belly is going to explode. I am literally in my third trimester of a sugar baby.”

“Just make sure you deliver before our first show this weekend,” Drew said, patting my tummy. “We could use the extra audience member.”

My laughter died in my throat as I saw who had materialized behind Drew and was now regarding him with the cocked hip of a gunslinger. Nicole's hair, her follicular mood ring, was jet black and gelled down flat against her head. She glared down at us with dark, kohl-rimmed eyes, and her face was completely pale save for a slash of dark red lipstick.

She looked nothing like the bohemian girl I had met on my first day of school, and I wondered if her new Goth look was any more “true” to her real self than that nu-hippie persona had been. Maybe, I thought,
none
of this was part of the real Nicole. Maybe she was like a chameleon who changed colors, but instead of using her outfits to blend in to the background, she used her plumage to stand out.

I looked at her wings, which today were so black they were almost blue, like a dark angel's. She had taken my fairy wings, which used to be my escape,
my
fantasy, and turned them into just another part of her ever-evolving “look.”

“What are you doing?” Nicole said to Drew, who was unfortunately still holding the macaron box on his lap.

“They're gluten-free, Nicole.” Drew said, exasperated. “And . . . vegan. And made with agave syrup.”

Nicole shook her head, the wings shuddering with the motion. “I meant, where are your . . .” Nicole mimed a bird flapping with her arms, her ankh rings glaring and casting sunlight into my eyes.

“I left them at home?” Drew looked confused. “Was I . . . you don't expect us all to wear them every day, right?”

“Here,” I said, tugging down a strap. “You can wear mine, Drew.”

Nicole seemed to notice my existence for the first time. “I appreciate your concern, Lily,” she said, her voice icy. “But Drew needs to own up to his lack of personal responsibility.” She shook her head again. “I'm sorry, Drew, but if you mess up one more time you're out of NAMASTE.”

“You can't do that!” I said. I knew how much NAMASTE meant to Drew. “Don't you have, like, a three-strike policy? It's not fair to kick him out because of one mistake!”

Nicole pursed her lips coolly. “Get ahold of yourself,” she said, as if I were a bawling baby instead of a high schooler talking in a reasonable tone. “That's not the attitude we're looking for in a NAMASTE representative. Your behavior is rather . . . normative.”

“I think you mean ‘
normal,
' Nicole. ‘Normative' means something completely different. And what's so wrong with being normal?” My voice was cracking, but I stood up and drew myself to the tallest height I could be. “There are worse things in the world then being normal! Like being judgmental and making everyone feel bad about themselves!”

The words were out before I could stop myself, but instead of looking upset, Nicole just kind of shrugged and smiled lightly, as if I had just told her I liked her shoes. “It's so sad when conformists try to pretend they're something they're not. In the end, they always show their true colors,” she said, addressing Drew. “I guess for some people, cafeteria hierarchies and America's patriarchal beauty standards are still more important than what's on the inside.”

But Drew's smile just became even more serene. He clasped his hands together and, without standing up, gave a mock-bow from the waist. “Nicole, I want to thank you for this humbling experience. You've really made me think and reflect on who I want to be and how to be a better person. Also? I quit.”

Nicole rocked back on her heels, swaying like a charmed snake. “Don't you
dare
talk to me like that, Andrew! When I found you, you were just a wannabe musician working part-time in the Grove!”

“So?” Drew shrugged nonchalantly and stood up, his tall frame towering over both of us. “Who cares, Nicole?” He turned toward me as smoothly as if he'd just complimented someone on their alpaca poncho. “So, Lily, we still on for band practice tonight? And the show on Saturday?”

I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from Nicole, who was almost shaking with fury. I started to back away slowly, the way I do with the bigger and more ferocious charges at PuppyTales.

“Sure,” I said. “I'll see you! Oh, and Nicole? I quit too. I don't think it's a good idea to wear wings every day, not while they're still so ‘trendy.'” And then, without another word or glance, I fled.