From What I Remember (19 page)

Okay. Now I want to play. Is this more flirting? Or something else entirely? Whatever it is, I could get used to it. It’s challenging and fun, forcing me to think on my toes. I would have thought Max Langston was too cool for games like this. I’m certainly not.

I interrupt Max. “And with the baby coming and all, I just wasn’t up for a big wedding anymore.” I have no idea who this person is talking. But I want to be just like her someday.

Manuel’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “You had me until the baby.”

Max and I crack up.

“Tell you what. I’m going to make you guys the best margaritas you’ve ever had. And you celebrate whatever it is you want. Wedding. No wedding. Baby. No baby.”

“Thanks, man. That sounds great. But she doesn’t drink,” Max says, pointing to me.

“So there really is a baby?” Manuel asks.

“No. She just doesn’t—”

“Actually, I’d love a margarita. Salt. No ice,” I tell Manuel. It’s high time I tried one.

h. My. God. Check it out!” Stokely screams as we approach school.

I turn to see Jason Simon and Billy Stafford streaking through the quad. Completely freaking naked. They must be totally high. Last day of school, indeed. Everyone is standing on the lawn watching.

Ms. Glades, head of the upper school, appears out of nowhere.

“Okay, show’s over, people. Back to class. Let’s try and get through the last day with a minimum of wreckage. We’ve already had a lunchroom table and two chairs destroyed.

Let’s see if we can’t keep our bodies calm for the last hour,” Ms. Glades tells us, like we’re five.

Our bodies calm? Lady, our bodies haven’t been calm in years.

Mr. Cane and Mr. Yarrow, the Rec Arts teachers (otherwise known as “gym” in public school) flank Ms. Glades like bodyguards. She signals to both of them and they break into a run, easily overtaking Jason and Billy. They throw towels around the boys and haul them off to God knows where. Detention? A dungeon? Seriously, what can they do? It’s the last day of school. We’re seniors. No one cares.

Stokely and I file into the building with the rest of the sheep.

I head up to my locker to finish cleaning it out. I get to the sixth floor and find people partying like it’s the end of the world. Justin Brandt and Lola Kellogg are making out in the stairway. Shirah Lang, Ella Bing, and Nicole Collins are singing along to Eminem, which they’ve got blasting from mini speakers hooked up to an iPod, and Charlie and his crew are tossing around a football. The inmates are running the asylum. I gather Ms. Glades has yet to visit the sixth floor.

“Wanna scratch our names on the bathroom wall?” Celia Higgins asks me as I’m throwing crap from my locker into a garbage bag. I don’t really care what it is. It’s all got to go. I’m not in the mood for memories.

“Already did it last week,” I say. That is so Celia—a day late and a dollar short with every idea. She’s got middle management written all over her. But then again, so do I now. Maybe we can job share at McDonald’s. God, how depressing. Dad has seriously got to figure something out.

“Wanna, maybe, go grab a smoothie at Jamba Juice?” Celia’s desperation drips from her like a leaky faucet.

“I’m actually going to class,” I say, throwing the stuffed garbage bag into a corner already loaded with garbage bags, and head toward math, pointless as it is.

Celia trails me.
Please, Celia. It’s over. We’re not friends. Never will be. It’s just not going to happen for us.

“Why? You totally don’t have to.”

“I know. But I’m going anyway.”

The thing is, I’d rather sit in Calculus than talk to people right now.

I slip into AP Calculus without saying anything more to Celia. Mr. Daimler is standing at the chalkboard writing up some formula.

“I was thinking as a graduation present I’d show you all a little trick that helped me with college calculus.”

There’s an audible groan. I mean, seriously? Give it a rest. Everyone’s texting on their phones. Mr. Daimler looks out at us for a minute, throws up his hands, and takes a seat. He opens a drawer, pulls out a bag of chips, and sets them on his desk.

“Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t let it get too loud.”

Everyone gets up and starts to mingle, like we’re at some fabulous cocktail party. I sit at my desk and stare out the window, ignoring Charlie and Shirah, who wave at me from across the room. Isn’t the last day of school supposed to be the best day ever? I want a do-over.

I’m going to try my damnedest to wring some kind of small joy out of graduation, but I’d be shocked if it happens. My life is in shambles. My future is completely uncertain.

And Kylie Flores and I will be wearing the exact same cheapo dress when it becomes official that she’s done better than me in school. Sure, I’m one of the valedictorians, one of nine, but Kylie’s at the top of the heap, giving the speech. No medals for trying. Yeah, tomorrow is pretty much a wash. Soon, all of Dad’s dirty laundry will be public information. I might as well write off the rest of the year, the rest of my life. Jesus, it’s been a day, and it’s not even two o’clock yet. And where is Max? I mean, what is up with the disappearing act? I haven’t heard from him since last night.

“You okay, Lil?” Charlie asks, taking a seat next to me.

“Yeah, just…tired.”

“I hear you. Last night at Joe’s was pretty crazy.”

“I’m not sure I can keep this up every night.”

“It’s good college prep. It’ll build up your tolerance. Make you the best drinker at Stanford.”

“That’ll make my parents proud.” If only Charlie knew the half of it. But I’ve got to love Charlie for trying. He’s a glass-half-f kind of guy, which can be nice to have around at moments like this.

“Have you seen Max?” I ask Charlie.

“Got a text from him this morning. He was at Starbucks. But haven’t seen him yet.”

“I haven’t heard from him. And he’s not in school.”

“You know how Max can go off the radar sometimes. Maybe he needs a breather.”

I’d be worried, except I know Charlie is right. Max is most likely lying low, not wanting to deal—with me, with the last day of school. He’s not into all the rituals. He’ll appear at the party when he’s good and ready. It’s so Max. I’m pissed just thinking about it. The last we spoke, at Joe’s party, I wanted to talk about next year—how things were going to work when I was at Stanford and he was at UCLA. We need to figure these things out, but Max never wants to talk about it. He said it would all work out, which is just so Max. In March, the night after a big fight (where I told him he needed to spend Friday nights with me, not playing squash with Charlie), he went surfing with Charlie instead of meeting me at Stokely’s birthday party. He said he forgot. But the truth is, he just didn’t want to deal.

Emotions freak him out. I wish it weren’t the case, because I really need to unload on him about…absolutely everything. I have no idea how he’ll take it. I’m going to have to go slowly. Really slowly. Because he cannot break up with me now. I need a boyfriend, a rich boyfriend. I know how awful that sounds, but I’m fighting for my life and I’ve got to play hard.

“Luca Sonneban’s having a pre-party at the new house. After school. Full liquor cab. No one home. His house is sweet, right on the beach. I’m sure Max will show up.”

“Sounds good. I’m there.”

Maybe getting drunk is the answer. Might be helpful if I knew the question.

’m sucking down the last of my margarita and laughing so hard at something Max said I almost pee in my pants. When I realize that I can’t even remember what it was he actually said, I laugh even harder. Max looks at me and then bursts out laughing.

“Settle down, Flores,” he says.

I kick Max in the leg to show him I’m feeling a little feisty. Ready to tussle. Max kicks me back, gently.

“Don’t make me get off this stool.”

“Ooooh, tough guy.”

I have to assume I’m flirting again. I may be new at it, but I know it when I see it. I’m also not stopping to consider why I’m doing it. Whatever. It’s fun, that’s why, nothing more. The truth is, I’m feeling pretty good. Great, even. Warm and relaxed. I totally get this drinking thing now, why everyone wants to spend all weekend doing it. I could hang here, at this dive bar, forever. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.