I pull a shirt off the rack and hold it up to myself. She rolls her eyes. “It’s beige. You’re such a beige bitch.” I put it back. Who wants to be a beige bitch? I watch my best friend admire herself in the mirror. It’s the strangest thing to watch. The conceit battling the insecurity. I never knew a woman could be both until Della. A beautiful woman, racked by jealousy. Of what? I think. How many girls would love to be her? I wouldn’t. It must be exhausting to be that consumed with yourself. Boring even. I feel guilty about the thoughts I’ve been having about Della. If I were really honest with myself, I’d say they started around the time Kit showed up. Can one person make you view someone in a different light? It shouldn’t be that way. I’m disloyal.
A week later I am at Kit and Della’s for a BBQ. There are twenty or so people in their small backyard, some sitting on lawn chairs, sipping beer, while others are hiding out in the air conditioning, gathered around the guacamole. I am part of the outside group. We quickly nickname ourselves The Outsiders—for more than one reason. Kit is not among us, but he comes over in between grilling. June sits next to me. She is pensive and fidgety tugging on the tassels on her skirt.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her. “You’re acting like a girl.”
She glances back into the kitchen. That’s when I sort of know. Della must have spoken to her about something. June hates being put in the middle. I put a hand on her arm, narrowing my eyes. Before I can say something, the back door slides open, and Della walks out with a plate of meat. June spins around, not looking at her. She’s wearing hot pink shorts and a white tank. No bra. We all know you have nipples, Della. Thanks for that. I crack my neck as she hands Kit the plate and wraps her arms around his torso, pressing her face to his back. When all he does is smile at her, she goes in for something more drastic. She’s wanting attention. There are too many girls here, and Della needs to know she’s the best one. God, it sucks to know someone this well. It used to bother me less.
Someone’s passing around a joint. I take it and suck down a little too eagerly. My coughing fit disrupts the group. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kit pull away from Della to come check on me. No! No! No! I wave him and everyone else away. I don’t want any more trouble. I don’t like the way she’s been looking at me lately, like I’m a thing of danger that needs to be watched. Kit plucks the joint from my fingers.
“It’ll subside,” he says.
I can’t say anything back because I’m too busy coughing, but I manage to shoot him a dirty look. Della watches from near the grill, one arm folded across her waist, the other tugging on a strand of her silky hair. June is watching Della. Dammit June! And Kit is still watching me watch everyone else.
“I’m fine,” I say between my teeth. “I’ve smoked before, you know.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
It makes me angry that he’s singling me out. I’m just another guest at his house, and I want to be left alone, not chastised.
I’m not going to be drawn into a fight with someone who should be minding their own business anyway. I take the joint back from him and do another hit, then I pass it to the person next to me.
One of my fellow Outsiders cheers me on. “Thatta girl, Helena.”
Kit glares at me for a few more seconds before returning to his post at the grill. I glance at Della out of the corner of my eye; she looks sour. All life gone. June is whimpering beside me like a puppy.
“Shut up, June,” I say. “Awkward social situations are the building blocks of life.”
“We should talk,” she says. “But not here. She’s watching me.”
She is. She’s watching both of us. I look straight on at Della, because I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what we’re becoming. Our relationship is tearing, twisting. The friendship part is slowly blurring, and something else is coming into focus. We used to look at each other and find solidarity in our knowledge of each other. Now our looks are assessing. Sizing. That’s the worst thing about being young. You really have no clue about all the changes that are coming. And when they come, no matter how people have warned you, you are genuinely surprised.
I meet June for a late lunch on Saturday. I want to go to brunch, because I like brunch most, but June is a vegan. “Please, Helena. It’s all eggs, and bacon, and sausage. Brunch is the anti-vegan.”
“I just want normal friends,” I complain to her. “Ones who eat animals.”
“Then be friends with a vegetarian. I am a vegan.”
She shakes out her flowery dress as we wait for a table, and gives me a dirty look.
The tiny hostess leads us to a table on the patio where she spreads two menus in front of us. We are both itching to talk, but wait until our server has greeted us and asked for our order.
“She thinks you’re after Kit,” June finally tells me. And even as we sit a dozen miles away from Della, in a busy cafe, June looks cautiously around like she might appear at any moment. I tap my fingers on the table, annoyed.
“Why would I be after Kit?” I ask. “Why isn’t Kit after me?”
I don’t know why this bothers me more than my best friend talking behind my back. That she would blame this on me and not on him. I’ve sought him out … a couple times. But he’s the one always wanting to take walks. And everyone knows what happens when you take walks with a girl.
June rolls her eyes. “Because she’s a girl in love, and it’s never the man’s fault. Only the competition.”
“Oh, so now I’m the competition?”
I fold my arms across my chest and pout. June pushes her glasses up her nose. “Kit pays too much attention to you. That’s the problem.”
My head jerks in her direction. “No, he doesn’t.”
She laughs. “The reason Della sees you as competition is because you are. Kit has a thing for you. You’re blind if you can’t see that.”
My heart is being awful. I wish it would stop dancing. It’s wrong. But I also know it isn’t true. Kit is thoughtful and kind. People often misinterpret those qualities for something else.
“Della and I are nothing alike,” I say. “Kit has a thing for Della.”
“Maybe that’s his problem.” June leans back so the waiter can put her food down. “They aren’t much suited, are they?”
A week later I am at Kit and Della’s for a BBQ. There are twenty or so people in their small backyard, some sitting on lawn chairs, sipping beer, while others are hiding out in the air conditioning, gathered around the guacamole. I am part of the outside group. We quickly nickname ourselves The Outsiders—for more than one reason. Kit is not among us, but he comes over in between grilling. June sits next to me. She is pensive and fidgety tugging on the tassels on her skirt.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her. “You’re acting like a girl.”
She glances back into the kitchen. That’s when I sort of know. Della must have spoken to her about something. June hates being put in the middle. I put a hand on her arm, narrowing my eyes. Before I can say something, the back door slides open, and Della walks out with a plate of meat. June spins around, not looking at her. She’s wearing hot pink shorts and a white tank. No bra. We all know you have nipples, Della. Thanks for that. I crack my neck as she hands Kit the plate and wraps her arms around his torso, pressing her face to his back. When all he does is smile at her, she goes in for something more drastic. She’s wanting attention. There are too many girls here, and Della needs to know she’s the best one. God, it sucks to know someone this well. It used to bother me less.
Someone’s passing around a joint. I take it and suck down a little too eagerly. My coughing fit disrupts the group. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kit pull away from Della to come check on me. No! No! No! I wave him and everyone else away. I don’t want any more trouble. I don’t like the way she’s been looking at me lately, like I’m a thing of danger that needs to be watched. Kit plucks the joint from my fingers.
“It’ll subside,” he says.
I can’t say anything back because I’m too busy coughing, but I manage to shoot him a dirty look. Della watches from near the grill, one arm folded across her waist, the other tugging on a strand of her silky hair. June is watching Della. Dammit June! And Kit is still watching me watch everyone else.
“I’m fine,” I say between my teeth. “I’ve smoked before, you know.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
It makes me angry that he’s singling me out. I’m just another guest at his house, and I want to be left alone, not chastised.
I’m not going to be drawn into a fight with someone who should be minding their own business anyway. I take the joint back from him and do another hit, then I pass it to the person next to me.
One of my fellow Outsiders cheers me on. “Thatta girl, Helena.”
Kit glares at me for a few more seconds before returning to his post at the grill. I glance at Della out of the corner of my eye; she looks sour. All life gone. June is whimpering beside me like a puppy.
“Shut up, June,” I say. “Awkward social situations are the building blocks of life.”
“We should talk,” she says. “But not here. She’s watching me.”
She is. She’s watching both of us. I look straight on at Della, because I’m not afraid of her. I’m afraid of what we’re becoming. Our relationship is tearing, twisting. The friendship part is slowly blurring, and something else is coming into focus. We used to look at each other and find solidarity in our knowledge of each other. Now our looks are assessing. Sizing. That’s the worst thing about being young. You really have no clue about all the changes that are coming. And when they come, no matter how people have warned you, you are genuinely surprised.
I meet June for a late lunch on Saturday. I want to go to brunch, because I like brunch most, but June is a vegan. “Please, Helena. It’s all eggs, and bacon, and sausage. Brunch is the anti-vegan.”
“I just want normal friends,” I complain to her. “Ones who eat animals.”
“Then be friends with a vegetarian. I am a vegan.”
She shakes out her flowery dress as we wait for a table, and gives me a dirty look.
The tiny hostess leads us to a table on the patio where she spreads two menus in front of us. We are both itching to talk, but wait until our server has greeted us and asked for our order.
“She thinks you’re after Kit,” June finally tells me. And even as we sit a dozen miles away from Della, in a busy cafe, June looks cautiously around like she might appear at any moment. I tap my fingers on the table, annoyed.
“Why would I be after Kit?” I ask. “Why isn’t Kit after me?”
I don’t know why this bothers me more than my best friend talking behind my back. That she would blame this on me and not on him. I’ve sought him out … a couple times. But he’s the one always wanting to take walks. And everyone knows what happens when you take walks with a girl.
June rolls her eyes. “Because she’s a girl in love, and it’s never the man’s fault. Only the competition.”
“Oh, so now I’m the competition?”
I fold my arms across my chest and pout. June pushes her glasses up her nose. “Kit pays too much attention to you. That’s the problem.”
My head jerks in her direction. “No, he doesn’t.”
She laughs. “The reason Della sees you as competition is because you are. Kit has a thing for you. You’re blind if you can’t see that.”
My heart is being awful. I wish it would stop dancing. It’s wrong. But I also know it isn’t true. Kit is thoughtful and kind. People often misinterpret those qualities for something else.
“Della and I are nothing alike,” I say. “Kit has a thing for Della.”
“Maybe that’s his problem.” June leans back so the waiter can put her food down. “They aren’t much suited, are they?”
