Freshman Year (23 page)

“I hope it comes true.”

I hug and kiss her. “Me, too.”

Next, she puts the small box in my hand. “I hope you like it.”

I know some words are supposed to come out of my mouth at this point, but all I can do is stare at the pretty shiny wrapping and smile.

“Come on, you're killing me,” Keeta says with an unexpected girly excitement.

Careful not to tear the silver paper, I peel off the tape very slowly. Once the box is free from its wrapping, I open it up. Inside, nestled in red tissue paper, is a dainty silver chain with an A pendant dangling from it.

“It's for Amara, not Abbey. But only we need to know that, huh?” She walks behind me, reaches over my shoulder for the necklace, and moves my hair aside so she can put it on me.

“Thank you, Keeta,” I finally say, after it's latched and resting against my chest. I like how it feels against my bare skin. “I totally didn't expect any of this. You really didn't have to.”

“Oh, I'm not done with you yet. It's time for the grand finale.” She directs me to a chair that's facing the stage. I sit down and tuck my legs underneath to make them seem less obscenely long. “I'm going to play you a little birthday song,” she says. “I just wrote it, and it's not perfect, but it's from the heart, okay? So no laughing.”

“Okay,” I say. “I promise.”

She strums a couple of notes and tunes her guitar. Then she clears her throat. “This song's called ‘A Girl Named Amara.'”

She starts to sing, and I'm in just as much awe as I was that first night in the guitar store. I can't believe how she makes the music so strong, how she sings each note with such clarity, or how she manages to do it all while staring right at me.

Here comes the chorus again:

And this girl named Amara

She has blue eyes like pools of sky,

And they sparkle and shine

More than any jewel you can buy.

It takes me two times hearing it to realize where I'd heard some of those words before. They were in that letter that Stef wasn't supposed to see, the one Stef shredded in the locker room during one of their fights.

“And what this girl called Amara doesn't know,” Keeta continues to sing, “is that I feel the same. Yeah, baby girl, I—”

Ding, ding, ding
, goes the bell, and my real-life fantasy comes to an end.

“Pinches campanas,”
she says, and we hurry to clean up our birthday party.

*

I manage to make it to my PE locker to hide the little cake before Kate comes over to say hi. Even though she knows about me and Keeta, it's pretty obvious we still feel very uncomfortable talking about it from the way she never asks about Keeta and I never bring her up.

I've already changed into my gym clothes and am putting on my running shoes when Kate sits down on the cold cement bench next to me. “Hey,” I say. “What's up?”

She fiddles with the zipper of her Gila High hoodie. “Abbey, I have some bad news about tonight.”

I have a sinking feeling that my birthday dinner is about to become a party of two. “What?” I say, shoving my backpack, clothes, and special birthday bra into my locker.

She waits a second and then gives me her lame excuse. “Derrick needs me to go with him to Phoenix tonight. He has to pick up his uncle from the airport.”

“And you have to go because…let me see, he doesn't know how to read street signs?” She's not going to get off easy. Not today. “Or is it that he suffers from narcolepsy and he needs you to keep him awake? No, wait—”

“Abbey, don't make this harder than it already is.”

“Why shouldn't I, Kate? How long has it been since you came over for a horror movie marathon? Or went out for pizza slices with me?”

“It's not me, it's Derrick,” she pleads. “He just doesn't want…”

“Want what?” I yell, just as two Gila cheerleaders walk by. They whisper something to each other and laugh.

Kate turns her back to them and whispers, “Abbey, don't.”

But they aren't the first girls to stare at me in a homophobic way. And I know they aren't going to be the last. But, like Garrett did, I'm learning how to care less and less about them.

“Whatever, Kate. Just tell me what you came here to say.”

“Well, it's just that…” She pulls at her zipper again. “Derrick, um…”

“Derrick doesn't want you to hang out with me, does he?”

She doesn't even try to make it better. She just keeps saying, “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry, Kate? You're not even going to tell me how stupid that is? It's my freaking birthday.”

Then she shuts her mouth, which pretty much says it all.

I slam my locker shut. “I know I lied to you, Kate, but I never turned my back on you like this. And I only lied because I didn't want to lose you as a friend. I don't know what is so special about him, but I hope he's best friend material because you just lost me.” I storm off so she won't see me cry, and I leave her sitting there in the dark row of lockers I've become very familiar with.

*

After PE, I head to my hall locker to find it's decorated with wrapping paper and ribbon just like I've seen on popular girls' lockers, and it's all I need to feel better about what happened with Kate. As I'm spinning in my combo, a confetti egg gets smashed on my head. “Happy birthday, Dear Abbey,” Garrett says, as tiny pieces of yellow, blue, and red paper pour down my face.

Before I can recover from the blow to my head, Stef grabs me. “One, two, three, four,” Stef counts as she slaps my butt.

“Garrett, help me,” I yell and finally get away from Stef around slap number ten.

“So, what do you think?” Stef asks, pointing to the decorations. “We got passes out of first period to do it, thanks to Tai.”

“It looks really cool. Thanks, you guys.”

“Yeah, well,”—Garrett rubs the confetti into my messed-up hair—“it's not every day our little freshie turns fifteen.”

“Hey, this is new.” Stef says as she picks the A pendant off my chest and looks closely at it. “Pretty nice. Mom give it to you?”

It's not that I forgot I had on my new necklace, but I did forget I'd have to come up with a good lie about it. Thankfully, Stef did the legwork for me. “Yeah, she gave it to me this morning.” Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Garrett roll her eyes. “So, we're still going to the University Planetarium tomorrow night?” I ask. Although I've been there six or seven times with my dad, I didn't tell them that when they called last night to tell me about our exciting plans.

Stef and Garrett exchange devious looks. “Among other things,” Stef says, rubbing her hands together like a mad scientist.

“Don't, you're scaring her,” Garrett says and hits Stef in the back of her head.

“I can take it, whatever
it
is,” I say, but I am sort of worried that they'll make me get drunk or something, which I am not sure I will ever be ready to do.

“Speaking of parties,” Stef says, “did you guys have a party in guitar this morning?”

Oh crap,
I think but say, “Sort of. There was a class contest.” Apparently, I can now lie without missing a beat.

“Really?” Stef asks. “That's cool.”

Garrett looks at me, raises one eyebrow, half smiles, and then adds a slight shake of the head. I recognize this as her
Girl, you are so close to getting caught in your web of lies
look.

But I ignore Garrett and hope Stef will drop the subject when I turn and dig in my locker for my Spanish book.

“Was the prize a cake or something?” Stef asks. No such luck for Abbey.

“Kind of,” I say cryptically. “Why?”

“Oh, my mom and I saw Keeta leaving Josephine's Bakery this morning. So I figured it was something like that.”

“Yes…exactly. There was a guitar chord quiz contest and the award was some cookies from Josephine's, and”—I'm not sure if the lie can carry me this far, but I say it anyway—“I won.”

“So, where's your prize?” Garrett unzips my backpack and starts to dig through it. “Come on, Abs, why you holding out on us? Hey, what's this?” She holds up a card Keeta gave me at the end of class, one I was told to open tonight before bed.

“Nothing!” I grab it from her. “It's just from Kate,” I say more calmly. “She told me to open it tonight at dinner. It's probably a gift certificate to some slutty clothing store at the mall. You know how she is.”

“That's weird,” Stef says. “Why didn't she just bring it with her tonight?”

“I don't know. She's complicated,” I practically yell.

“Okay, whatever you say, Abbey,” Stef says.

The bell rings, but this time I'm happy to hear it. “Come on guys, we gotta jet,” I say and slam my locker shut.

All through Spanish I wonder how much time I have before my snowy mountain of lies melts, revealing the truth underneath. And I wonder if Keeta and Stef started off like me and Keeta. Is this how she seduces all her girlfriends? Am I just another one of Keeta's basketball scores? How can I keep on lying to Stef like this? There are only a few more days to go until Stef leaves, but I'm about to crack. That's when I realize what a hypocrite I am. I mean, I'm a backstabber and a liar. God, I'm worse than Kate.

“Two for dinner,” my mom says to the hostess of the Golden Buddha, our favorite special occasion restaurant.

“Right this way.”

My mom links her arm in mine as we walk through the restaurant to a booth in the corner. “I'm sorry Kate had to go to her dad's house tonight, honey. But at least she gave you a really thoughtful gift.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I reach up and play with the pendant that my mom thinks is from Kate and that Stef and (maybe) Garrett think my mom gave me. This necklace is feeling more like Pandora's Box than a birthday present.

We get settled at our table and are handed menus and poured tea. My mom looks like she wants to talk about something serious, so I read through the long list of dishes even though I already know I want the spicy garlic chicken and a Coke.

“Abbey Road? You seem so quiet these days. Everything okay?”

I hold the menu up a little higher so she can't see my eyes turn glassy. “Yeah, it's just been a long week. You know, big game last night and all that.”

I know she's not quite satisfied with my answer by the way she says, “Hmm,” but then she says, “Okay,” and looks at her menu even though she knows what she's going to order, too.

Enter uncomfortable silence.

Our waiter arrives and asks if we're ready to order.

My mom and I both say yes a little too enthusiastically.

Once we're alone again, my mom attempts to dissolve the unfamiliar tension between us. “Time for presents,” she says and digs in her purse. She unloads its contents on the table and, like Mary Poppins's carpetbag, out comes the oddest collection of items: paintbrushes, a visor, four cabinet-door handles, three tins of mints, and finally my birthday present. She puts a small package in front of me. “I hope it fits.”

It's not very big so it's most likely not clothing. I'm sincerely stumped. “You hope it fits?” I ask and inspect the present a little closer.

“Open it!” she says like she knows I'll love it, but I still have my doubts. Not that I'm a brat about presents, but my mom doesn't usually get me anything more expensive or elaborate than school supplies, books, or a Beatles CD.

I pick at the tape and carefully remove the present from its leopard-print paper. I'm blown away. “No freaking way, Mom!”

“I got one, too. I thought it'd be good to have for work.” I look at her and she's smiling ear to ear. “Do you like it?” she asks, as if I might not.

I tear open the box and remove the cell phone carefully. I admire it from every angle because it's a work of art. Instead of buying a cheap plastic cover from one of those mall kiosks, she painted my initials on the back in really cool lettering and even added a basketball on the back with my number painted in the middle. No one else in the world will have one like it. “I love it, Mom. Oh my God, thanks!” I climb out of my side of the booth and hug her. “It's perfect.”

“Well, it's not that fancy, but it's better than nothing, right?”

I slip it in my back pocket, but then take it out pretending I'm getting a call. “Oh hey, I'm going to have to call you back. I'm having dinner with the best mom ever,” I say to no one.

“Now don't go all crazy. You only get two hundred minutes a month, so if you run out, you run out. And, sorry, no web stuff. Okay, kiddo?”

“Got it.” Now I'm the one smiling ear to ear because I'm thinking about how I can call Keeta whenever I want. Too bad she doesn't have one, too.

“Who are you going to call first?” Mom asks, like a mind reader.

“Kate, of course,” I say, pretending we're still friends. “She'll totally freak out.”

*

It's six on Saturday night and I'm getting ready for my Birthday Extravaganza, which includes going out to dinner, looking at stars at the U of A's planetarium, and something else that they won't tell me about.

My cell phone rings and I jump at the obnoxious ringtone I selected. “Hello, Abbey Brooks's cell phone. Abbey Brooks speaking.”

“You're such a nerd,” Stef says. “You almost ready?”

I sit on my bed, loving how it feels to be gabbing on my cell like a real teenager. “Almost, punk nugget. When you guys coming over?”

“Like seven. Cool?” Stef asks.

“Yeah. Cool.”

“I'm gonna stop by Keeta's before walking over to G's house. I haven't been able to get ahold of her today, so whatever. Wish me luck.”

I grab a lock of my hair and start twirling.
Any day now, she'll be gone
, I think to myself like the selfish bitch that I am. “Okay, well, have fun. See you soon.”