Pink & Green is the New Black (23 page)

Then Zoe tells Gavin she wants to show him the new giant TV in her basement, and they go downstairs. Now, all
of this is pretty innocent. It's not like we're in some kind of cheesy high school movie where crazy stuff happens. It's just that everyone is disappearing to be alone with someone else—and I don't like it.

So then it's just Hunter, Erica, Travis, and me watching the cartoon and eating the pita chips. And it starts to get awkward. Erica keeps flipping her hair all around, and it's making me dizzy. It looks like it's making Hunter dizzy too, because he keeps squinting and backing away from her on the couch.

“Hunter, are you still really into the violin?” I ask. It sounds nerdy, but the thing is, Hunter plays some kind of rock violin. He travels to Providence for lessons, and he's really serious about it. He always gets a solo at the winter concert and then a standing ovation.

“Oh yeah. I think I'm starting a band with these kids from Madison in a few months,” he tells me. “We have the same teacher, and we're pretty pumped about it.”

“Sounds cool,” I say. Hunter's one of those kids that's going to be famous one day.

“Hey, Hunter,” Erica says, putting her hair up for the twentieth time. “Zoe's dad plays electric guitar. He has this whole music room upstairs. Come on, I'll show you.”

This is my fault. I shouldn't have brought up the violin. But we were all just sitting there silently watching Erica do
crazy things with her hair, and it was getting awkward. I even found a few strands of hair in the hummus. Gross.

“Cool,” is all he says, and he follows her upstairs. It's too bad that Zoe's house has so much interesting stuff.

The cartoon is still on, and Travis seems pretty engrossed in it. And he's still eating the hummus. I'm not sure he realizes that everyone else has left the den.

“So, Travis,” I start. It takes a few seconds for him to look up. And the longer I wait to say this, the harder it's going to be. I wasn't really honest the other day. If I've learned anything this year, it's that you have to open up.

“Yeah, what's up?” He looks at me, and I start to feel guilty about what I'm going to say. But I know it's the right thing.

“So . . . the other day when I brought up the whole no-dates thing. Um, I don't feel like I really said all I needed to say. The thing is, um, I don't know what you're thinking about the two of us, and stuff,” I say. “But, like, I feel like we're just better as friends. And maybe you already knew that, but I just wanted to be honest.” I pause. “Honesty's the best policy, you know?”

I feel like a total idiot for saying that last part, but I couldn't think of what else to say.

He's looking at the TV again. And then he says, “Wait, what? Sorry, I spaced.”

He's really going to make me say this whole thing again?

“I was just saying that, like, I don't know what you're thinking about us. But I think we should just be friends.” There. I said it. Sure, it's a little bit lame and the cliché you hear all the time. But it's true. He's nice for a friend. For a boyfriend, he's not for me.

“Oh. Um. Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He looks at me for half a second and then stares at the TV again, shoving the rest of the pita chip crumbs into his mouth.

That's it?
I wonder. I should feel relieved right now, but instead I just feel confused.

We sit there for what feels like forever. Travis is flipping through the channels on someone else's TV and drinking five cans of Dr Pepper. I play games on my phone and then text Claudia:

Ended things with Travis. Still weird with Yamir. Excited for Masquerade.

I get a quick reply:

Glad you're excited. All is well here. Frigid but good. Bean & I are going skiing this weekend. xoxo

We text back and forth a few more times. I watch the clock ticking above the doorway. This evening will end. Even the most boring, awkward evenings come to an end eventually.

Soon everyone comes back, Zoe orders a pizza, and we all sit around eating and laughing. I don't know if Hunter really likes Erica, but maybe it doesn't matter. She seems happy now, and he's not even paying that much attention to her. Maybe sometimes we just need to be told what we want to hear, even if it's not totally true. It's not lying exactly, just a little fib.

Like the whole thing with Claudia—I wonder if Mom and Grandma really would have forbidden her from marrying Bean. She's an adult; could they even do that? But I think hearing them say “no way” was what Claudia wanted to hear. She loves Bean and she's happy with him, but I think she was scared to think too much about getting married. She almost wanted them to forbid her. Even though it was a fake proposal with a Ring Pop for two years from now, she still got scared.

I guess Erica was scared too. Scared of everyone moving on to high school with boyfriends, maybe. Or scared of being all alone. It's hard to say.

So many things have surprised me this year. Some good surprises. Some bad surprises. I guess that's just the way life works sometimes. The more you feel like you have everything figured out, the less you actually do.

Lucy's tip for surviving eighth grade:

Try to slow down and enjoy the moment.

I wake up at five in the
morning on the day of the Masquerade. I try as hard as I can to fall back asleep, but I can't. My mind is spinning with worry and excitement and is fizzy with anticipation.

I go downstairs and cuddle up under a blanket on the couch. Maybe if I turn on the TV, I'll drift back to sleep. But no. I'm up. I text Sunny to see if she's up too, but I don't get a response. She must still be sleeping.

When you wake up at five in the morning, you're starving. So I scramble up some eggs with cheese. I pop some slices of my favorite oatmeal bread into the toaster. I cut up strawberries and bananas and pour myself a tall glass of grapefruit juice. A breakfast fit for a queen. And as nervous as I am, I'm still able to eat all of it.

After breakfast, I go back upstairs, crawl into bed, and
start reading. And then I fall back asleep. I guess my body was so tired from all the eating that it just needed to rest again. When I wake up this time, it's eight, and I only have fifteen minutes to get to the spa before the first appointment.

Now I'm running late and I'm rushing, and the gourmet breakfast I ate is sitting in my stomach like a pile of wet laundry.

I pack my costume carefully in a bag and head downstairs, dressed in whatever sweatpants and sweatshirt were on my desk chair. They seem clean enough.

“You ready?” Mom asks as soon as she sees me. “I was worried you'd oversleep.”

“I was up at five,” I explain. “And then I fell back asleep.”

“Ah, so that's where the frying pan in the sink came from. I thought we had middle-of-the-night intruders who like omelets.”

“Nope. Only me.”

“Dad's on his way to drive you to the spa,” Mom says. “He wanted to make sure he saw you on your special day.”

I take a minute to think about that, and appreciate it. All the years he lived in London, I never imagined he'd be back and living so close to me. That's the thing about life—you never really know what will change, and whether that change is good or bad. You have to be open to anything.

“Ready?” my dad asks me after I'm in the car.

“I think so.” I smile. “Thanks for driving me.”

I almost fall asleep on the short drive over to the spa. I'm so excited about this day, but I'm also really tired. I hope I can run on adrenaline. Ninety makeup treatments need to go smoothly, and then I need to have the best time ever at Eighth-Grade Masquerade. After everything that's happened, I'm still striving for perfection. I guess that's just the way I am.

And you're only in eighth grade once, after all.

Lucy's tip for surviving eighth grade:

Baked goods make a good thing even better.

At the spa, Penelope has
set up the reception area with the most amazing spread: scones, muffins, cut-up fruit, fresh-squeezed juice, and Greek yogurt.

“I didn't want anyone to get hungry,” Penelope explains. “And if we run out of seats, I set up the Relaxation Room as well.”

I smile. I haven't heard anyone call it that in so long, but it's refreshing to hear. My idea. My creation. And it still exists. People still hang out there when they're waiting for their prescriptions.

“Great. Thank you so much!” I give Penelope a hug. “And thanks for getting up so early to make it here.”

“Of course. This is your day. And it's going to be an amazing one.”

I hope she's right. One doofy eighth-grade boy could ruin
the whole thing. I'm imagining someone like Matt getting a bloody nose all over the beautiful couches in here. He can't help it, some people say, but I think he can. I won't get into the reasons why. They're too disgusting. Or someone like Andy could sneak in and put on a face mask and walk around that way, making everyone laugh and wasting our products.

Middle school boys can be so dumb. I guess middle school girls can be dumb too, though—getting into fights, crying over everything, storming out of the room, refusing to talk to someone. I've been through it all over the past few years.

I guess we just have to hope for the best.

I told Erica, Zoe, and Sunny to get here early too, and they show up right on time. They come rushing in, all excited.

“Oh my God, it looks unbelievable in here,” Erica says. “I'm too nervous to eat. Okay, actually, I can't resist.” She takes a chocolate chip scone off the table.

Penelope takes us on a tour of all the treatment rooms. They're modified so that a few makeup applications can go on at the same time. Everything is set up perfectly, and I can't wait for everyone to get here.

“Here's the schedule, Lucy.” Grace walks over to us. “I gave each person a half hour. That should be more than enough time. And I know not everyone in the grade signed up. So we can accommodate some walk-ins.”

“Those people are dumb,” Erica says. “They clearly don't know what they're missing.”

People with early appointments start trickling in. Grace made sure that kids with complicated costumes come in early—like Luca Smith, who's getting some crazy Darth Vader thing done, or Blythe Silverstein, who literally wants her face to look like Taylor Swift's. I'm not exactly sure how Mary the makeup artist is going to make that happen. She's the best in the world, but that's still a little complicated. She's not a plastic surgeon, after all.

Zoe, Erica, Sunny, and I are getting our makeup done late in the day, because it isn't that complicated and we wanted it to be as fresh as possible. But we came early to oversee everything. I decided to leave the makeup work to the amazing spa staff, so I could enjoy the day without being too stressed.

Now groups of kids start to show up. The sporty boys like Phil, Sam, and Mark are getting some kind of wacky makeup that makes their skin look like leather.

Mina, Leslie, Angie, and all the other super-studious girls aren't getting much done, just a little eye shadow and blush. I think they're going as colors of the rainbow.

It's funny to see where people go with the whole “come up with your own costume” thing. Most people are following
the Pink & Green theme, since Erica basically drilled it into their heads. She reminded the whole grade every day at lunch and put up posters and had all the homeroom teachers remind everyone too. She's a drill sergeant, but this Masquerade was her big thing and she wants it to go perfectly. I get that.

The AGE girls come in a little after that, all psyched about their “Shoop Shoop girls” theme. They even have images printed out from the Internet of what they want their makeup to look like.

“I am
so so so so so
excited,” Annabelle tells me. “I never could have imagined how awesome this would be.”