Tuesday, May 11
Glorious T-shirt weather, at last. Time to show off those toned upper arms and slender waists, those perky breasts and patrician necks. Peel off the layers, shed off the winter plumage, and shine! Emerge from your cocoon, Zoe! If only it were that easy.
Without my baggy sweaters and woolen cardigans, I felt vulnerable. Lounging outside Bruler's High dressed in a skimpy top and torn jeans, my imperfections were laid bare, exposed to everyone to see. My skinny arms were milk-white, my goose-bumped skin - in a need of sanding. Meet the Corpse Bride. Also, my bra didn't fit quite right. The straps kept on sliding off my shoulders which annoyed me to no end. That's what you get for looking for deals online.
Usually, none of it mattered, because no one noticed me. Sienna soaked up all the attention. Her dad had installed a gym in their house and she worked out religiously. Her mother had a tanning bed and an unlimited budget for trips to Bruler's top beauty salon. And Sienna was blessed with natural beauty, pretty much ticking off all the boxes.
When Sienna was here, all eyes were on her. Everyone else paled in comparison. I didn't resent her for it, on the contrary. I felt comfortable in her shadow. I could breathe a little easier when sheltered from the scrutiny of my classmates. But today she was having one of her migraines and I found myself alone on the grass by the school entrance, overexposed in the harsh sunlight, a magnet for the unwanted attention of others.
I was pretending to read but finding myself unable to concentrate on my book. A few feet away, Marisol and her bestie Elena were cross-legged on the lawn, analyzing some stranger's Instagram feed.
"No way he looks like this in real life," said Elena. "These abs are too perfect."
"That's the whole point. You're not supposed to look like your actual self because if you did, you wouldn't get any followers."
Marisol had a point. I had learned that from observing Sienna, the queen of filters and stickers. She knew how to pose and cultivate her fan base, and took every chance to pout into the camera.
I, on the other hand, was too shy to post selfies. I took some but none was good enough. My hair was stringy, my lips pursed, my forehead spotty. There was always something wrong. So I deleted them. Not perfect enough to command the admiration of strangers. As a result, my Instagram feed was full of snaps of mountains and flowers, and my followers... Well, let's say I knew all 33 of them in real life. I envied Sienna for being so gutsy and inhibitions-free. She snapped and snapped, and snapped. But she also looked gorgeous in everything. Unlike me, painfully self-conscious in my new bra.
Elena got up and dusted off her behind.
"You coming?" she asked.
Marisol wavered.
"I'll catch up with you," she said and scooted closer to me.
"Fine," shrugged Elena and walked away. At the school steps, she glanced over her shoulder, unhappy to be excluded.
Marisol pushed her hair behind her ears and pointed at my book.
"The fault in our stars. Is it any good?"
I was wondering the same. Good, yes. Good for right now? No.
"If you're into sad stories, you can borrow it after I'm done."
Marisol flashed her braces.
"Not interested if it's gonna make me cry."
She had almond-shaped eyes and hair to die for. Full-bodied and glossy, her locks were a beautiful shade of auburn.
"You know, I was wondering," she began but her voice faltered.
"Yeah?" I was intrigued.
Marisol glanced around and said quietly, "Can I ask you something just between the two of us?"
"Sure."
"Are you with Victor?"
I didn't see that coming.
"Me and Victor? What makes you say that?"
Marisol smiled bashfully.
"It's just that the way he looks at you sometimes is so-"
Marisol of all people should be able to read guys. I mean, she had two brothers.
"We're friends. Nothing more." I hadn't told anyone about the kiss and I was pretty sure Victor hadn't either. Because it didn't matter. It was a non-event.
Marisol was eyeing me unconvinced.
"Is he seeing someone else?"
"Not that I know."
She sighed and gathered her things.
"If you like him, ask him out," I said.
"Just like that?" Marisol shook her head and stood up. "It's that simple, huh? Tell me something, Zoe, have you ever asked a boy out?"
No and no. But Marisol already knew that. She rejoined Elena who was waiting for her on the school steps and they went in, probably, no- likely - talking about me. I adjusted my bra straps for the umpteenth time and I opened my book but I didn't feel like reading anymore. Who was I to give dating advice? Marisol was right, asking a boy out was pretty scary. How do you do it? Is there a line that doesn't sound lame? And if he says 'no', how do you face him the following day?
My eyes kept bobbing over the page. It didn't help that I got distracted by a familiar sound that only grew closer. I recognized it with a jolt. The scrapping of polyurethane wheels against the cracked concrete of the school walkway. I looked up and saw Arlo leisurely skating by. He saw me too and hopped off his skateboard.
"Hi, Zoe."
He looked like he belonged in a popular Instagram feed. Symmetrical face, velvet skin, long lashes. Not an ounce of excess on his lean body.
"Mind if I join?" he asked.
"Not at all." I was no longer regretting Sienna's absence.
Arlo sat on the grass next to me and rested his skateboard on his knees.
"Free period?"
I nodded and pointed at my book, "Enjoying the sunshine in the company of a good book."
"It is a good book."
"You've read it?" There I go again, judging him. "I mean, it's a love story, not necessarily what I'd expect a guy to read."
He scratched his chin and gave my dumb remark serious consideration.
"Are there stories for guys and stories for girls? I don't know about that. To me, books are either good or bad."
Yup, I had made it worse.
"Like people," he added. "Except sometimes people can change."
I didn't know what to say in response without sounding moronic. Luckily, he didn't expect a reply.
Arlo took off his backpack and pulled his little notebook from one of the side pockets.
"I'm not good with words," he said. "You might have noticed."
I was the one with a severe case of foot-in-mouth disease but never mind.
He opened his notebook and handed it over to me. On the page was a drawing of a boy. He was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees, his back against the wall. Dark shadows swirled around him. His face was contorted by suffering. His anguish and loneliness were so potent, I wanted to reach out and console him.
"Arlo, that's amazing. Where did you learn to draw like that?" I was about to turn the page, eager to see more of his work but he hastily took his notebook back and put it away.
"My mom taught me," he said curtly.
"That's where you got your talent from?"
I could see I was making him feel uncomfortable.
He flipped his skateboard over and began to spin one of the wheels absentmindedly.
"It's not hard, drawing."
"Maybe not to you but to me even painting my room is a big deal."
A hint of a smile crossed his lips.
"So, I was thinking we could do a text comic. For the Health project."
A comic? That was brilliant.
"I love that idea!" I exclaimed. Frankly, had he suggested we write a sonnet, I would have reacted the same way. Whatever, I would have been game.
"Once we come up with the story, I'll draw it. You can do the captions."
"A kid who goes through a lot but overcomes thanks to having a strong support network."
"Sure," he said and gave me his number. He also said that he'd like to get to know me better. Actually, he didn't. I was reading too much into his green eyes.
The bell rang, its timing as awful as always. Arlo got up and I scrambled to my feet. I rose too fast and felt lightheaded. He noticed me swoon and clasped my arm. His fingers on my skin felt burning hot and ice cold at the same time. I didn't know this was possible. His touch was electric and jolted me awake. I had been sleepwalking through life and was only now coming to my senses, seeing everything around me in a new light.
"Zoe, what's up?!" someone called out behind me. I turned and saw Tyler and two of his friends.
Arlo pulled his hand away and the sun lost some of its luster. My skin smoldered where his fingers had touched it.
"Where's Sienna?" asked Tyler. He was wearing a ball cap backward and had a hint of mustache going, which made him look sleazy.
"Migraine," I said.
"That figures," he said, not even acknowledging Arlo.
I pointed at his upper lip with a questioning look.
"You don't dig the 'stache?" grinned Tyler. "I lost a bet. Choices have consequences, you know? You can tell that to Sienna."
Tyler turned and sprinted up the stairs to rejoin his friends.
"Who's the friendly dude?" asked Arlo as we walked towards the entrance.
"Sienna's ex-boyfriend."
"Why did they break up?"
I thought about our conversation last Saturday and what she said about her dream man.
"Sienna found him too immature."
"Really?" Arlo held the door for me. "I wonder what made her think so."
When I texted her about Tyler's comment, she was nonplussed.
"Typical Ty. But tell me more about the 'stache. Truly terrible?"
"Worse."
That cheered her up enough to show her face at school the following day.
Friday, May 14
"How do I look?"
I glanced up from my book. My mom was standing in the doorway of my room, wearing a floral dress I didn't know she owned.
"Is that new?" I asked.
She smoothed the fabric with her palms and gave herself a once-over.
"You don't like it?"
I was used to seeing my mom in jeans and blouses faded from too many spins inside our aging washing machine. Dressed to the nines, she looked like a stranger.
"I love it," I said. "Very chic."
She smiled in return and pointed at her earrings. She had on big hoops, bigger than the ones she normally wore.
"That's fine too," I said.
Mom was getting ready for her second date with Jim Lundy. Her hair was freshly blow-dried and she had painted her toenails which said more than splurging on a new dress. Painting her toenails was a sure sign she was pulling out all the stops. Mom really cared what he thought.
"You don't think it's too much?" she asked anxiously. "Be honest."
"On a date, there's no such thing as too much," I said, speaking from my vast wealth of zero experience. She needed reassurance and I was the only one around.
I wanted Mom to have a great time tonight. I wanted her to enjoy herself. I also wanted her to hate Jim's company. Next thing, she'd invite him for dinner, and before I knew it-
She sat down on my bed and hugged me.
"Thank you, Zoe."
I felt bad for wishing things between them didn't work out. When did I become so spiteful? She deserved to be happy. I would be off to college in a year and she would be all alone. That was the last thing I wanted for my mom.
"You look fine, Mom. And you smell fine too. The Sheriff won't know what hit him."
She shook her head but was amused by my words.
"Who are you," she said, "and what did you do with my daughter?"