have to reorganize my closet,” I say. She said I wasn’t her type, and though one part of me feels relieved, the other part of me feels hurt. Okay, I admit it. Girls aren’t a lot easier to understand than boys, after all.
By nightfall I’ve forgiven Andie for rejecting me. It’s not her fault that I’m as un-Goth as Mary Poppins. I have to learn to accept the way things are. Andie and Nico go around like a couple. Andie likes me. Maybe Nico like likes me, while I don’t know how I feel about either of them in the romantic sense. But I wish I could redo the scene on the sidewalk outside Nico’s house when Andie asked me to hang out. She’s my closest friend at the moment, though I barely know her. How pathetic is that? She’s online, so I IM her.
Me: hey, sorry bout 2day *slinks with tail between legs*
Me: i was feeling bitchy
Andie: no big
Me: thnx *pops a bottle of bubbly*
Me: i think carmen is just pretending
Me: she doesn’t really like like nico
Andie: no duh
Me: she’s covering for her tete a tetes with bryan
Andie: not
Me: then y pretend? *bites pinkie nail in confusion*
Andie: u r a smart girl
Andie: u figure it out
Me: y do u know so much?
Andie: i observe people, i notice things
Me: aren’t u speshul
With a friend like Andie, who needs adventure? Prozac could come in handy, though. After signing off, I send the world’s longest email to Sierra. In it, I confess all that I’ve done and cross my fingers that she won’t take a month to answer back.
Chapter
13
O n Sunday afternoon
when Eva returns from her piano recital, I dangle a salacious Lesbian Report as an incentive for her to drive me to the outlet mall. She agrees without hesitation. Soon enough I figure out why. The inside of her car acts as the perfect soundproof bubble. She chews me out the second I slam my door closed.
“You think rehearsals are bad now? If you don’t leave Bryan alone, it’s going to get worse.” Rant. Rant. Rant.
“I’m no threat,” I say. “I’m a dyke, remember?”
She ignores this, punctuating her long tirade with abrupt and unnecessary stomps on the gas pedal. The crazy accelerations make the point rather effectively. I’m guessing that lesbians aren’t usually this touchy about their boyfriends. My theory about Eva’s sexual orientation—thin and shaky to begin with—enters its final death throes and expires on the threadbare carpet at my feet.
While we’re stopped at a light, she wipes the inside of the windshield with a small towel because the fan broke two years ago. I slide a Good Charlotte tape into the player and turn the volume on high. Her ancient Honda doesn’t do CDs. I meant to spin an exciting version ofevents at Nico’s house yesterday, but her venting has put me in a dark mood.
When she pulls into the parking lot, the tires screech. “What happened to the L Report, Ch—Roz?”
I could mention her hateful lecturing, but she stopped herself just before using my hated nickname, and that act of grace softens my resolve to fight with her. Besides, I need someone to talk to. Maybe Eva can break Andie’s secret code.
“Why do you think Carmen’s all over Nico like cat hair on velvet?” I say.
“He’s kind of cute in a depressed, punky way.”
“I guess,” I say. “Andie and I went to Nico’s house yesterday for acting lessons.”
“And he taught you some advanced techniques,” she says.
“Ha ha. I was hoping to loosen him up a little. While we were practicing, Andie acted like she might kiss me.”
“In front of Nico?” Eva lowers her voice. Sitting in the car with her—the windows clouded with the moisture from our breaths—I get that under-the-kitchen-table feeling again.
“Details,” Eva says.
“We were doing the scene where Phebe falls for Rosalind. Andie looked at me with burning lust. Maybe it was the pot talking.”
“What will you do if she does? Kiss you, I mean.”
“Kiss her back.”
Eva squeezes the steering wheel with both
By nightfall I’ve forgiven Andie for rejecting me. It’s not her fault that I’m as un-Goth as Mary Poppins. I have to learn to accept the way things are. Andie and Nico go around like a couple. Andie likes me. Maybe Nico like likes me, while I don’t know how I feel about either of them in the romantic sense. But I wish I could redo the scene on the sidewalk outside Nico’s house when Andie asked me to hang out. She’s my closest friend at the moment, though I barely know her. How pathetic is that? She’s online, so I IM her.
Me: hey, sorry bout 2day *slinks with tail between legs*
Me: i was feeling bitchy
Andie: no big
Me: thnx *pops a bottle of bubbly*
Me: i think carmen is just pretending
Me: she doesn’t really like like nico
Andie: no duh
Me: she’s covering for her tete a tetes with bryan
Andie: not
Me: then y pretend? *bites pinkie nail in confusion*
Andie: u r a smart girl
Andie: u figure it out
Me: y do u know so much?
Andie: i observe people, i notice things
Me: aren’t u speshul
With a friend like Andie, who needs adventure? Prozac could come in handy, though. After signing off, I send the world’s longest email to Sierra. In it, I confess all that I’ve done and cross my fingers that she won’t take a month to answer back.
Chapter
13
O n Sunday afternoon
when Eva returns from her piano recital, I dangle a salacious Lesbian Report as an incentive for her to drive me to the outlet mall. She agrees without hesitation. Soon enough I figure out why. The inside of her car acts as the perfect soundproof bubble. She chews me out the second I slam my door closed.
“You think rehearsals are bad now? If you don’t leave Bryan alone, it’s going to get worse.” Rant. Rant. Rant.
“I’m no threat,” I say. “I’m a dyke, remember?”
She ignores this, punctuating her long tirade with abrupt and unnecessary stomps on the gas pedal. The crazy accelerations make the point rather effectively. I’m guessing that lesbians aren’t usually this touchy about their boyfriends. My theory about Eva’s sexual orientation—thin and shaky to begin with—enters its final death throes and expires on the threadbare carpet at my feet.
While we’re stopped at a light, she wipes the inside of the windshield with a small towel because the fan broke two years ago. I slide a Good Charlotte tape into the player and turn the volume on high. Her ancient Honda doesn’t do CDs. I meant to spin an exciting version ofevents at Nico’s house yesterday, but her venting has put me in a dark mood.
When she pulls into the parking lot, the tires screech. “What happened to the L Report, Ch—Roz?”
I could mention her hateful lecturing, but she stopped herself just before using my hated nickname, and that act of grace softens my resolve to fight with her. Besides, I need someone to talk to. Maybe Eva can break Andie’s secret code.
“Why do you think Carmen’s all over Nico like cat hair on velvet?” I say.
“He’s kind of cute in a depressed, punky way.”
“I guess,” I say. “Andie and I went to Nico’s house yesterday for acting lessons.”
“And he taught you some advanced techniques,” she says.
“Ha ha. I was hoping to loosen him up a little. While we were practicing, Andie acted like she might kiss me.”
“In front of Nico?” Eva lowers her voice. Sitting in the car with her—the windows clouded with the moisture from our breaths—I get that under-the-kitchen-table feeling again.
“Details,” Eva says.
“We were doing the scene where Phebe falls for Rosalind. Andie looked at me with burning lust. Maybe it was the pot talking.”
“What will you do if she does? Kiss you, I mean.”
“Kiss her back.”
Eva squeezes the steering wheel with both
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