Kim called me out right away. She leaned over the counter and looked me up and down. “What are you, like, thirteen?”
“I’m sixteen,” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
She laughed in my face and held up the ticket. “I don’t think I heard you right. How old are you again?”
It took me a second to figure it out. I cleared my throat and said, “Twenty-one.”
She arched one of her thick-as-hell eyebrows. “Where’s your ID?” I bit my lip. I didn’t have an answer. Luckily, Kim gave me one. “You left it in the car, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
She gave me the ticket. I tried to hand her ten bucks, but she wouldn’t take it. “I’ve got an extra comp ticket.”
“Wow,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Nobody else working here wants to see them, so I’ll be working the show alone. Monsoon sucks, if you didn’t already know. And you’re going to help me take down the set when it’s over.”
She was right, of course. Monsoon sucked big-time. But it was still one of the best nights of my life.
* * *
Kim peels herself off me so she can look me in the eyes. “Hey. Sorry about having to be so quick on the phone last week. It was a crazy show. The last band showed up late and so drunk they could barely get through their set, and Paul’s been a complete prick lately. You caught me at the worst time possible. It’s been—”
“It’s totally fine,” I say, cutting her off. Kim’s day doesn’t sound half as terrible as mine was, and anyway, I’ve got to get this done before the last ferry back to Jar Island. “Can I just chill in the office?” That’s where the copier is, and the store computer. They’ve got programs loaded on it to make flyers for shows. I helped Kim make them a couple of times. I’m going to lay this thing out real nice. But not so nice that it gets back to me. I’m thinking a scan of Alex’s handwriting with some cheesy clip art of two unicorns touching horns or something.
“Yeah, sure.” Kim rings up the Mohawk guy, and then he leaves. “What’s this school project about?”
“Umm, it’s more like an art thing.”
“Oh. Cool. And how’s your boy Alex? You guys riding off on a golf cart into the sunset?”
I feel a pang at the sound of his name but quickly try to cover it up. “Eww!” I say. When Alex was on his fishing trip, I came to the store almost every day. And I know I talked about him a lot. God, it’s crazy how much can change in a few weeks. I start walking backward, away from Kim, because I really don’t have time to chat.
“But he was so nice, Kat. You need a nice boy. And he liked you, I could tell. I think you’d be good couple.”
I roll my eyes. “I just can’t wait to finish this year out and get to Oberlin. I’m ready to, like, start my life, you know? If I had to live around here for another year, I swear I’d kill myself.”
Kim’s mouth gets thin. “Yeah. I hear you.”
I can tell she’s mad, but I wasn’t talking about her. Of course I wasn’t. Kim is, like, the coolest person I know. “Kim, I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t know if you ever caught on, but Paul and I are screwing. Well, we were screwing, until his wife found out. So now he’s being a huge prick and bitching about how the register’s off by a dollar or that there’s never any toilet paper in the store bathroom. Dude is trying to fire me and kick me out of the apartment over the store. I know it.”
“Damn,” I say. “That sucks.” It really does. I met Paul once. He’s kind of old. And gross.
“Yup,” she says, and the P makes a pop sound. “You know where the copier is. Just try not to make a huge mess.”
I feel like an ass. But I am in a rush. And when Kim gets in a pissy mood, it’s best to just leave her alone.
As the computer warms up, I take out Alex’s notebook and start flipping through it, because maybe there’s another poem even more lame than “The Longest Hallway.” Though I doubt it. That was so wack.
Near the front of the book, I see something called “Red Ribbon.” God, he is such a weirdo.
Winter stars fall so I keep wishing.
I love the way you look in sweaters.
Can we Eskimo kiss all night long?
’Cause your red ribbon has me tied up in knots.
Red ribbon? What the hell is that? Some kind of menstruation metaphor?
Oh, yeah. This is so it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LILLIA
IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT. REEVE GOT THE KEYS TO ONE OF THE empty summer houses his dad’s company takes care of, so everybody piled into cars, and now we’re in some random person’s house in Middlebury. Reeve just told us to take our shoes off so we don’t track dirt on the carpet, but then he helped himself to a brand-new bottle of gin from the bar and mixed it with a bottle of their Sprite. How considerate of him, right? He poured cups for everyone but himself, because he has to have his game face on for football practice on Monday. He’s so very moral about not drinking during the season.
I’m sitting on the living room floor, my legs stretched out in front of me. I’m super-sore from the last week of cheer practice. Rennie choreographed a new halftime routine, and she made us run through it a million times. A few of the guys from the football team are lying on the floor too, talking about some new defensive strategy.
I’m halfway falling asleep when Rennie bursts into the room, Reeve right behind her. “We just had an amazing idea,” she announces. She holds up an empty bottle of beer and does a little dance. “Who wants to play spin the bottle?” she shrieks.
The guys perk up. I’m wide awake now too. No way am I sticking around for this. Quickly I scramble up and say to Ashlin, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Everybody sit in a circle, boy-girl-boy-girl,” Rennie’s saying. “Ash, go get the people in the Jacuzzi.”
Ashlin covers her mouth and giggles and says, “Seriously, Ren? What are we, in the seventh grade again?”
Rennie glares at her. “Hello, it’s retro. And hello, it’s our senior year. It’s called making memories.” In a lower but not altogether quiet voice, she adds, “Perfect opportunity to make out with Derek, Ash.”
Ashlin’s face splotches, and she jumps up. From the other side of the sliding door, I hear her call everyone inside.
“I’m sixteen,” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
She laughed in my face and held up the ticket. “I don’t think I heard you right. How old are you again?”
It took me a second to figure it out. I cleared my throat and said, “Twenty-one.”
She arched one of her thick-as-hell eyebrows. “Where’s your ID?” I bit my lip. I didn’t have an answer. Luckily, Kim gave me one. “You left it in the car, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
She gave me the ticket. I tried to hand her ten bucks, but she wouldn’t take it. “I’ve got an extra comp ticket.”
“Wow,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Nobody else working here wants to see them, so I’ll be working the show alone. Monsoon sucks, if you didn’t already know. And you’re going to help me take down the set when it’s over.”
She was right, of course. Monsoon sucked big-time. But it was still one of the best nights of my life.
* * *
Kim peels herself off me so she can look me in the eyes. “Hey. Sorry about having to be so quick on the phone last week. It was a crazy show. The last band showed up late and so drunk they could barely get through their set, and Paul’s been a complete prick lately. You caught me at the worst time possible. It’s been—”
“It’s totally fine,” I say, cutting her off. Kim’s day doesn’t sound half as terrible as mine was, and anyway, I’ve got to get this done before the last ferry back to Jar Island. “Can I just chill in the office?” That’s where the copier is, and the store computer. They’ve got programs loaded on it to make flyers for shows. I helped Kim make them a couple of times. I’m going to lay this thing out real nice. But not so nice that it gets back to me. I’m thinking a scan of Alex’s handwriting with some cheesy clip art of two unicorns touching horns or something.
“Yeah, sure.” Kim rings up the Mohawk guy, and then he leaves. “What’s this school project about?”
“Umm, it’s more like an art thing.”
“Oh. Cool. And how’s your boy Alex? You guys riding off on a golf cart into the sunset?”
I feel a pang at the sound of his name but quickly try to cover it up. “Eww!” I say. When Alex was on his fishing trip, I came to the store almost every day. And I know I talked about him a lot. God, it’s crazy how much can change in a few weeks. I start walking backward, away from Kim, because I really don’t have time to chat.
“But he was so nice, Kat. You need a nice boy. And he liked you, I could tell. I think you’d be good couple.”
I roll my eyes. “I just can’t wait to finish this year out and get to Oberlin. I’m ready to, like, start my life, you know? If I had to live around here for another year, I swear I’d kill myself.”
Kim’s mouth gets thin. “Yeah. I hear you.”
I can tell she’s mad, but I wasn’t talking about her. Of course I wasn’t. Kim is, like, the coolest person I know. “Kim, I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t know if you ever caught on, but Paul and I are screwing. Well, we were screwing, until his wife found out. So now he’s being a huge prick and bitching about how the register’s off by a dollar or that there’s never any toilet paper in the store bathroom. Dude is trying to fire me and kick me out of the apartment over the store. I know it.”
“Damn,” I say. “That sucks.” It really does. I met Paul once. He’s kind of old. And gross.
“Yup,” she says, and the P makes a pop sound. “You know where the copier is. Just try not to make a huge mess.”
I feel like an ass. But I am in a rush. And when Kim gets in a pissy mood, it’s best to just leave her alone.
As the computer warms up, I take out Alex’s notebook and start flipping through it, because maybe there’s another poem even more lame than “The Longest Hallway.” Though I doubt it. That was so wack.
Near the front of the book, I see something called “Red Ribbon.” God, he is such a weirdo.
Winter stars fall so I keep wishing.
I love the way you look in sweaters.
Can we Eskimo kiss all night long?
’Cause your red ribbon has me tied up in knots.
Red ribbon? What the hell is that? Some kind of menstruation metaphor?
Oh, yeah. This is so it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LILLIA
IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT. REEVE GOT THE KEYS TO ONE OF THE empty summer houses his dad’s company takes care of, so everybody piled into cars, and now we’re in some random person’s house in Middlebury. Reeve just told us to take our shoes off so we don’t track dirt on the carpet, but then he helped himself to a brand-new bottle of gin from the bar and mixed it with a bottle of their Sprite. How considerate of him, right? He poured cups for everyone but himself, because he has to have his game face on for football practice on Monday. He’s so very moral about not drinking during the season.
I’m sitting on the living room floor, my legs stretched out in front of me. I’m super-sore from the last week of cheer practice. Rennie choreographed a new halftime routine, and she made us run through it a million times. A few of the guys from the football team are lying on the floor too, talking about some new defensive strategy.
I’m halfway falling asleep when Rennie bursts into the room, Reeve right behind her. “We just had an amazing idea,” she announces. She holds up an empty bottle of beer and does a little dance. “Who wants to play spin the bottle?” she shrieks.
The guys perk up. I’m wide awake now too. No way am I sticking around for this. Quickly I scramble up and say to Ashlin, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Everybody sit in a circle, boy-girl-boy-girl,” Rennie’s saying. “Ash, go get the people in the Jacuzzi.”
Ashlin covers her mouth and giggles and says, “Seriously, Ren? What are we, in the seventh grade again?”
Rennie glares at her. “Hello, it’s retro. And hello, it’s our senior year. It’s called making memories.” In a lower but not altogether quiet voice, she adds, “Perfect opportunity to make out with Derek, Ash.”
Ashlin’s face splotches, and she jumps up. From the other side of the sliding door, I hear her call everyone inside.
