The Fill-In Boyfriend
Page 35

“No, I don’t.” My backpack dug into my shoulder so I shifted it to the other one.
“Is everything okay, Gia? You’ve seemed different lately. Distant.”
I took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I guess I’m just feeling reflective. We’re about to graduate and I’m wondering what I’ve really accomplished.”
“You are one of the most popular girls at school. When people look back ten years from now, they will remember your name. They’ll know who you were.”
How would other people know who I was when I didn’t even know that?
She nodded her head toward where Bec had been. “She won’t even enter their minds.”
“So, being remembered? Is that what life is about?”
“Better than being forgotten.”
“I guess I’d rather be remembered for something, though.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea.”
I looked at Bec’s retreating back. Maybe a lot of people from high school wouldn’t remember Bec in ten years, but the people who did would remember she was loud and confident and sometimes mean but always knew exactly what she wanted.
We reached Claire’s car, where Laney and Jules were already waiting.
“Where are we going for lunch today, girls?” Jules asked.
Laney and Claire looked at me like it was my decision. “I don’t care. You guys pick.”
Claire and Laney exchanged a look like I’d never said that before. I was sure I’d let them pick our lunch spot before. Although now that I thought about it, I remember often declaring I was in the mood for certain things. I hadn’t thought that was a demand. More of a suggestion.
“How about Las Palapas? I feel like Mexican food,” Jules said.
For some reason, Jules picking made me want to make a suggestion after all but I didn’t. “Sounds good.”
When Claire drove, I sat in the passenger seat. When Jules drove, Laney sat passenger. It’s just how it worked, how we always did it. So when I rounded the car after Claire had unlocked the doors and I saw Jules walk straight for the passenger door and open it without a pause, I stopped in my tracks. Over the hood of the car, Laney looked at me wide-eyed. I smiled at her and climbed into the back. Claire gave me one confused look over her shoulder but then started the car.
“Ninety-six days until UCLA!” Jules screamed out the window. When had she started in on our countdown? She rolled up the window, reached forward, and turned on the radio. Then she started dancing and singing. Claire laughed and shoved her arm.
I sent off a text to Hayden: I’m having extreme patience with my frenemy. Does this count as being a better person?
The same frenemy I met?
Yes.
Being a better person doesn’t mean taking abuse.
She’s not abusive.
I respectfully disagree.
Is there any other way to disagree?
Many other ways, but I think respectfully is the most appropriate in this instance.
I laughed a little and Laney looked over at me. “Are you texting your blind date boy?”
I smiled and she squealed.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy over a boy before.”
That statement wiped the smile from my face. “What? Of course I’ve looked happy over a boy before.”
“I know, but you’re . . . I don’t know. It’s different. You had a shine in your eyes.”
Claire teased, “Were you glowing, Gia?”
“What? No. I hardly know him. He just said something funny.” I tucked my phone away. Of course I wasn’t letting a boy get to me. Especially not Hayden. Our story was way too complicated to turn into something real.
“I don’t think you ever told us his name,” Claire said.
Because of how hard it was for me to earn his name, I felt a bit protective over it. I wanted to refuse to tell them. But I knew that was stupid. “Hayden.”
“Hayden?” Jules said. I wasn’t sure if she said it with a disgusted tone or if she always used a disgusted tone so it was hard to know when she truly was trying to express that emotion.
“Yes. Hayden,” I said. “I really like his name.”
“Me too,” Claire said. She pulled into the parking lot and I was glad to be out of the car. Had there always been this much tension when I hung out with my friends?
I had waited half a week to ask my parents about driving to UCLA with Hayden and Bec but I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. The way my mom had said, “The decision has been made,” last time we talked about the ceremony was freezing me up. I rarely fought with my parents. I usually agreed with them. The more I thought of it, the more I realized that I rarely fought with anyone. I didn’t like fighting. I disagreed with people in my head a lot but rarely out loud.
But I couldn’t avoid it this time. I needed their permission. And the thought of a possible argument with my parents was making my stomach hurt.
We sat at the dinner table eating a Costco rotisserie chicken. This was a bad sign. It meant my mom had worked all day and didn’t have time to make food. And when she had worked all day, she was crankier.
“This is really good,” I said, picking the chicken off the bone with a fork, my stomach too tight to actually eat it.
“I’m glad you like it,” my mom said.
“How was work?”
“I spent all day with a couple and they still haven’t made a decision.”