Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel (12 page)

“Well, you sure know how to throw a soiree.” Tomas says, oozing with sarcasm.

I ooze it right back. “Glad you could fit it into your busy schedule.” He pinches my cheek just like my mom did, and he winks before exiting. Lisa’s the only one left. It’s strange to think that the night would not have gone so well without her. Okay, it was headed for complete disaster.

“Thanks for coming,” I say. “I’m sure there was other stuff you could have done.”

“You can thank your mom for that. I always liked her more than you,” she replies, straight-faced. Then she kicks my foot with hers to let me know she’s joking. We stand in silence for a moment. “It was you, you know.”

“What was me?”

“My first crush.” Before I have a chance to process what she’s said, I’m gazing at her back as she glides smoothly into her soft leather jacket and strides swiftly to her much too fancy car.

The rest of break I kept replaying in my mind what Lisa said. And I still can’t make sense of it. Mostly I just don’t believe it’s possible. And she’s spent so much time avoiding me at Armstead.

And then break is over. Going back wouldn’t be so bad if Saskia weren’t around. From the first day she soaks up all the male attention in the cafeteria. I’m sure it pisses Ashley off, because all the boys who used to sit at her table move to sit with Saskia, every one of them trying to impress her in some way or another. There is a new queen of the castle, and everyone knows it.

From my usual table, I watch Robert try to get Saskia’s attention, pantomiming some story about snowboarding, or at least it looks like snowboarding. Greg sits next to Saskia, who has linked her arm through his. It’s sort of funny trying to watch him eat using one hand while Saskia plays with the other. Greg catches my eye, and I quickly turn my head away. I’m still angry with him, but he doesn’t know it or have any idea why.

Lisa and I haven’t talked since my raging party. I still don’t know what to make of her confession. Did it mean she’s gay? Did it mean that she
still
likes me? Did she just say it to make me feel better about the whole Saskia situation? I never even considered Lisa as an option. That doesn’t mean I should now. I can’t begin to entertain any thoughts other than what the hell I’m going to do about science this semester and avoiding Saskia.

Tess places her lunch tray across from me, sits down, and removes her retainer. I’m thankful someone is blocking the view. “I watched all of the
Zombie Killers
films over break. They were great!” Tess exclaims. “I had to suspend disbelief about the science behind it, but the main character was surprisingly full of pathos. You know, before he disemboweled his best friend with a rusty spoon.” She takes a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. I appreciate that Tess is still willing to eat grilled cheese along with me. We’re the only ones left in our grade; all the other girls just eat salad.

Saskia laughs loudly, and I can’t resist looking past Tess to see what’s so funny. Greg is sort of wincing and Robert has a grin on his face, the kind that can’t mean anything good.

I hear a familiar voice before I sense a new arrival at our table. “May I sit with you?” I look up to see Lisa standing beside Tess’s chair. She’s changed her hair, brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Tess gapes up at Lisa, who quietly waits for her to respond. Of course: the dare.

“If you don’t mind our discussion of
Zombie Killers,
” Tess says at last, and Lisa sits down next to her. The cafeteria becomes much quieter. Ashley cranes to look at Lisa from her table, her nose scrunched and forehead wrinkled in confusion. It’s not a good look for her. Lisa pretends everyone isn’t staring.

“You don’t have to go through with the dare,” I mumble, slumping in my seat.

Lisa takes a sip of her tea from a paper cup, calmly and without batting an eye. “What dare?” She knows what dare. She’s just acting like this is normal behavior. I’m really sick of everyone acting like things are normal when they aren’t. You can’t just say something like “You were my first crush” like it’s perfectly natural, and not explain yourself!

“So,
Zombie Killers.
I’ve only seen the first two,” Lisa says. “Any point in seeing the others?”

“I actually thought the fourth installment had promise, but that subplot with the radioactive rodents was over the top. But in the third—”

“What is this? What’s happening here?” I demand. Tess and Lisa stare at me. “Greg and I talk about
Zombie Killers.
Greg. And he’s over at the asshat table.
You,
”—I address Lisa, staring her right in the eye—“decide to be friends again after
years
of pretending like I don’t exist. And then you tell me . . .” I almost forget where I am and that Tess is sitting with us. “Tell me something out of the blue and act like everything is just fine! Well, everything is not fine!” I must have said that a little louder than I thought I did because people are staring at
me
now.

Lisa blinks a few times. Ugh, she’s so exasperating! She turns to Tess. “So the fourth one isn’t so great, huh?” Tess just shakes her head and looks perplexed. I groan.

Lisa turns back to me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to be your
friend
back then. But I’d like to be honest with you again. When you’re ready. And when we aren’t surrounded by so many spectators.” I deflate and droop in my seat. She’s right. It’s not the place to have this conversation.

“The
Zombie Killers Part V
trailer is amazing,” I mutter. I look over at Greg because he would know what I’m talking about, but he’s hanging on to Saskia’s every word, just like all the other guys at their table. She’s probably telling them the best ways to poison someone.

“Hi-ho, losers.” Taryn saunters up to our table, Christina and Simone in tow. Taryn quirks an eyebrow when she sees Lisa sitting with us. “Well, I’ll give you credit. You do honor your dares.”

“Nice to see you, too, Taryn,” Lisa says.

“You guys working on the play this term?” I ask.

“Yes.
The Importance of Being Earnest
doesn’t really inspire me, but I’m looking forward to finding period costumes,” Simone says. “Do you think you’ll work on the play with us?” I can’t imagine having to watch people in petticoats over and over again.

“I’d like to do theater again, but I want to try something other than stage-managing,” I say.

“I’m designing the set for the middle school play. We need student directors if you’re interested,” Christina says. Direct? Me? Molding the future actors of tomorrow? Kids adore me!

“Yeah! I’d love that,” I blurt before I have time to overthink it.

“Cool. I’ll let Kessler know you’re interested. Tomas wouldn’t be able to handle them all by himself,” Christina says. Tomas! He’s going to take over everything!

The tech girls wave and walk out of the cafeteria. “Well, no sports again for me,” I say cheerily. Lisa just shakes her head and Tess laughs.

“So now I can run for real during squash practice?” Tess asks with a smirk.

“I will not stand in the way of your varsity dreams now that you’re buddies with the all-star here,” I say with a nod to Lisa.

Lisa finishes, chewing an orange slice before she answers. “I don’t know that I’m going to play this year.” Tess gasps a little because she knows how good Lisa is. She’s better at squash than she is at soccer, if that’s possible.

I feel myself getting angry. “You loved it, though. Plus, you’re really good. You’re good at basically everything.” Lisa sets her jaw and looks at me. I match her gaze and see her eyes have gone dull with refusal. Not even a glimmer of a shine.

“Why, Leila, I didn’t know you cared,” Lisa says. Tess just looks back and forth between us like a fight is about to start.

“If you don’t try out, I’ll have my mom tell your mom,” I say in the most threatening tone I can muster. It must not be very effective; Lisa just chuckles.

“Oh no. Not that. How will I survive?”

“If you don’t try out, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” I can’t think of anything to hold over her. She holds up her hands to stop me.

“I will try out if you agree to hang out once in a while.” She’s serious. She wants to be friends again. Or something more? The
something
freaks me out . . . but maybe in a good way.

“Okay,” I whisper. Lisa and I study each other for a moment. Like we are the cowboys sizing each other up in
Zombie Killers Part III,
just about to detonate the water tower and drown the town. A little bit of a spark has returned to her eyes, which are really pretty with those bangs off her face.

“You guys are weird,” Tess says, and takes a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. Tess really has no gaydar. But apparently neither do I.

“What’s up with you? Why are you avoiding me again?” Greg asks when he corners me by my locker at the end of the day. I keep my attention on the locker’s contents for as long as possible, stalling for a way to explain myself. There’s a picture on the door of Greg and me posing like we’re hard thugs, both of us wearing black Dickies skullcaps, standing back-to-back. I can’t believe a girl is coming between us.

“You’re going to be late for wrestling tryouts,” I say, and he touches my shoulder so I’ll face him. I fold my arms and refuse to meet his glance.

“You didn’t call or text all break. Didn’t even wish me a happy New Year. That’s messed up.” I stare at my shoes. What can I say to him? I’m angry with him but it’s not his fault. I’m angry with him and I can’t begin to tell him why.

“Yeah, well, you’ve made some new friends lately,” I mutter in a voice barely audible to the human ear. “I didn’t want to get in the way.”

He’s heard me just fine. “Is that what this is about? My seeing Saskia?” He chuckles, but it’s mean sounding. “Why do you care who I date, Leila?”

I stare him right in his stupid eyes. “I
don’t
care who you date!” It isn’t true, though. I care that he’s dating
her
. I’m glad people are off to their afternoon activities and not in the hallway to watch Greg and me argue.

Greg grunts in frustration. “I don’t get you! You told me you weren’t interested in dating me. So I can’t date anyone else?” He’s so dense, always making this about him. This isn’t fair. I want to tell my friend what’s wrong, what’s happening.

“I just don’t think she’s right for you,” I say, and I really mean that. He doesn’t know what she’s capable of or that she broke my heart in giant, jagged pieces. Greg is trying to read me, but I won’t let him. I’m working hard to keep any emotion off my face.

“Hi, guys!” Saskia calls, bounding down the hall to us. So much for not showing emotion. I wince a little as she gives Greg a peck on the lips. She puts her arm around his waist like he’s going to run away if she doesn’t hold him as tightly as possible. “Hi, sweetie!” she says to me. Is she seriously calling me
sweetie
? I want to scream but can’t let Greg know something is wrong.

“Hey.” That’s all she’s getting out of me.

“Did you have a nice break?” she asks with a saccharine smile. Like nothing has happened. Like she didn’t inspect my mouth with her tongue whenever it was convenient.

“Yeah. Pretty quiet,” I say trying not to get intoxicated by her scent again. She smells like expensive perfume and waxy lipstick. “You were busy, I bet.”

Greg just rolls his eyes and stares off to the side. “I better get to wrestling. I’ll see you later?” he asks Saskia. She kisses his cheek before he saunters off, not even looking in my direction. I watch him stride down the hallway and out the door. I want to yell at him but I can’t. I hate this.

“He has such a nice bum,” Saskia says. “But he’s so
boring
. What did you two even talk about?” I twist to glare at her. She seems to genuinely be waiting for my answer.

“There’s something wrong with you,” I say, slamming my locker shut. She doesn’t even blink.

“I’m just trying to be polite,” she says. “Look, I know you’re probably not over me, but I thought we could at least be friends. You’re the only person that makes me laugh in this place.” I’m tired of being her source of entertainment. I walk away, but she follows me. “If you’re upset about my being with Greg, I can break up with him.” I stop walking. The hall, the whole school is spinning around me. I’m dizzy with rage.

“Why would you do that to him?” I ask through clenched teeth. I don’t want Greg to be hurt just because I have been. Saskia grabs my hand and turns me around to face her.

“Because we’re friends, aren’t we? Isn’t that what friends do for each other?” No. That’s not what friends do for each other. I’m wondering exactly how many
friends
Saskia has had in her lifetime. She grasps my hand a little tighter now.

“Don’t you like him?” I ask, incredulous.

Saskia just bites her lower lip. “He has his merits.” She says it like she’s talking about a restaurant. “But I’d rather hang out with you.” She inches a little closer and as much as I’m upset with her . . . Wow, have her eyes always been that green?

I blink to break the spell, and try to make her understand. “Greg’s my friend, so I want him to be happy, and I don’t want to see him hurt. You should date someone you really like. But you can’t just play with people. ” Saskia gives me a blank look. “You know, toy with their emotions and toss them when you’re bored?” It still doesn’t register. I try again. “Poison their brownies?”

Saskia pulls me in a little closer. My hand brushes her breast and I blush. “I promise. I’ll be more conscientious of others.” I want to believe her. I really do. People make mistakes, right? Even gorgeous girls who are really good at kissing, but bad—BAD—for hurting people. She pulls me in by my arm and embraces me, nestling her head in the crook of my neck. I hate that part of me is creeped out and part of me is tingly. Emotions are so stupid. Zombies have it easy.

Mr. Kessler has given Tomas and me the reins to choose and direct the middle school play since he’s going to be so busy with
The Importance of Being Earnest
. Tomas suggested doing
Glengarry Glen Ross.
Mr. Kessler went pale and suggested we think along the lines of a one-act fairy tale. I suggest “Cinderella,” thinking of Lisa.

“‘Cinderella’? That’s so tired,” says Libby, a seventh grader with a lisp. The six other kids who signed up for the play, five girls and one boy, chime their agreement.

“Let’s do a play version of
Goodfellas
!” That Thurston Smith kid sure has a lot of energy. He gets the rest of the cast to cheer and Tomas tries to settle them down. I don’t know that we are cut out for this. Tomas blows a whistle and they finally shut up. I think my eardrum is busted.

“
Goodfellas
is an incredibly violent movie,” Tomas says. “And rated R, which leads me to question your parents’ child-rearing skills.” I look at the cast in front of us. The kids are awkward and fidgety, and they listen to Tomas like he’s the coolest person on the planet. Oh, what a few years will do.

“My older brother showed it to me, and it was
awesome
!” Thurston exclaims, pretending to fire a machine gun.

“What if we rewrite ‘Cinderella’? Make it . . . less tired?” I’m surprised by my initiative. Apparently so is Tomas.

“Why, Leila! You’re actually onto something,” he says, clapping his hands together. “And I thought I was going to have to carry the load of this production myself. What do you think, guys?”

“Can we have gangsters in it? Like Cinderella has a glass gun instead of slipper?” Thurston asks. The rest of the cast cheers his suggestion. Tomas blows the whistle again. I have a feeling I know how the rest of the play rehearsals are going to go.

After some improvisation games, like the human knot and freeze, which help us get to know the kids and figure out a little more about them, Tomas and I end rehearsal early so we can brainstorm our new version of “Cinderella.”

We walk from the middle school down the hill to the upper school. “What if Cinderella is in a corporate setting, and instead of being concerned with her glass slipper, she’s concerned with the glass ceiling?” I suggest. Tomas looks at me like I am the biggest dork in the universe.

“Leila, they’re kids. But I like the different, contemporary setting. What if we make Cinderella gender nonconforming?” Tomas asks.

“I’m not so sure about that.” I don’t know how that would go over in middle school. And I don’t want to be associated with more out-of-the-box stuff than I have to be right now. Tomas gives me side eye that would make a person of weaker character cry.

“The administration is always going on about how they
love
and support diversity, so they’d be hypocrites to disapprove,” he says. “We’ll write a tasteful story that gets people to think about their hateful, ignorant, stupid reactions to things they do not understand.”

“I just think we might be over our heads already, and to make a fairy tale controversial, well . . .”

“Leila! We have a chance to tell a story that can get people thinking. Aren’t you sick of being a wallflower? I know you are, because you’re not stage-managing again.”

“Okay. We’ll write the play. So long as we don’t call it
Cinderfella
. That would just scream amateur.”