Chapter 21: No regrets, in which the s#!t hits the fan and Joey forgets to duck.
Chapter 22: All you need is love, in which some things finally go right for Joey and she prepares for her big debut.
 

by Justme

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Chapter 21: No regrets

 

"So... well, would you be upset if I changed? It's not that I don't like it--in fact I love it--but..."

As Grandmother looks at Lori and back at me I can see her putting two and two together by the twinkle she gets in her eye. "Of course not, dear. You can't very well play volleyball in that. Now, run along and enjoy yourselves!"

"OK. Thanks!"

I think I'll put the dress back on later, though. I do like it and who knows when I might next get a chance to wear it.

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"Hey, Leigh!"

"Huh?" I turn around and it's Felicia. "Oh, hi! Liv didn't tell me you were coming today." I have this vaguely uncomfortable feeling about her showing up unexpectedly, I guess 'cause Rich is supposed to pop in for a bit and what with my life being a wacky sit-com and all, there's just too much potential for things to go horribly wrong. I can't quite keep that apprehension from coming through in my voice.

"Try not to sound so overjoyed." She looks a little hurt but I can't tell if it's an act.

"No, I mean--I didn't mean it like that."

OK, yeah, it was an act--now her face is saying gotcha!

I stick my tongue out at her; she just waggles her eyebrows suggestively in response so I roll my eyes at her in mock disgust. "All right, enough of that. We were about to get up a game of volleyball. Wanna play?"

"Sure!"

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"Well, if he's gonna be on your team then we get Lori!" We used to always play girls against the boys, since the odds were pretty even that way; well, Lori may be a jock but Lisa and Liv don't exactly qualify. And I did promise Ken I'd still be on his team. Anyway Liv's sitting this one out 'cause of her hand but Lisa and Felicia seem set on having Rob on their side, and not necessarily because of how athletic he is. Um, no, let me rephrase that--I mean not because of how good he might be at volleyball. Ken's trying to take advantage of that to improve our odds.

"That only seems fair." Rob's trying to be a good sport. Predictably, Lisa and Felicia are only too happy to go along with him; Lori seems a little put out but just shrugs and ducks under the net.

"Welcome to our team." I put out my hand and grin at her.

"Oh, the irony." She rolls her eyes as she takes my hand. And squeezes. As I wince, she smiles. Not a nice smile--the kind of smile you might see on a large jungle animal just before you got eaten. "All right, let's kick some butt here!"

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Fuck! Why does it always sting so much on my wrist when I serve? Is it just me? Am I doing it wrong, or does that happen to everybody and I'm just a big wimp? Shit, Rob's gonna spike it--ha! Right into Lori and she blocks it right down behind him. "Woo-hoo! Seven-four!" Rob looks a little miffed as he lobs the ball back over the net to me and now I've gotta serve again. Shit. My wrist still hurts from the last one.

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"Hey, Leash! Shoulda known you'd be here." Crap, is that Rich? Oh god, the shit's gonna hit the fan any minute now. That explains why my heart is suddenly in my throat, but why do I feel all kinda warm and melty inside? Fuck, here comes the ball - gotta dive for it. Oof! Ha, got it! OK Kenny, now set it up for Lori--oh well, at least he got it over in bounds.

"Dick! How'd you rate an invite to this shindig?" The words are kind of a cut-down, but you can tell Felicia's glad he's here. At least, I can tell.

"We're just stopping by on the way to my cousins' barbecue." OK, Felicia popped the ball up and Rob's setting himself for the spike. "Hey Leigh, sorry you had to cancel on our date. Woulda been fun." Say what? Oh god no, Felicia's looking at me like I just punched her in the stomach. I see Rob jumping out of the corner of my eye as I automatically turn toward Rich with my mouth hanging open, and whap! OwFUCK oh oh OW....

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"You OK, Joey?" Huh? How did I get to the picnic table? Why can't I see anything but my knees and my feet? I don't feel so good.

"I don't think she's OK. I'm gonna get Mom. Mo-o-om!"

I dimly hear other voices, farther away.

"What about me?"

"Shut up, Kenny. It's just a bloody nose, fer Chrissakes."

"Yeah, but--"

"I said, shut up."

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"OK, now just lie still and relax. I'll send your mother in while I go develop these pictures. Will you be all right in here by yourself for a minute, honey?"

"Um, yeah?" How the fuck should I know? I don't even know where here is.

"OK. Don't try to get up without help."

"OK." As the door clicks shut behind her I start to become aware of my surroundings. Clearly I'm not in my backyard anymore. Glaring lights, faint smell of rubbing alcohol, lying on butcher paper on a hard but slightly yielding surface--somewhere medical? A doctor's office? Huh, that machinery over my head would look pretty cool in a horror movie. Starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. I hear the door opening again and turn my head to see Mom coming in.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Um." How am I feeling? "Confused. And a little sick, I guess. And my head hurts. What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" She sounds worried.

"Um..." Something feels familiar about the situation and when I realize what it is I can't help it. "Something about a tornado picking up our house and dropping it on a witch?" The look on Mom's face is priceless. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." As is the expression of simultaneous relief and irritation. "We were playing volleyball, I remember Rob jumping up to spike one and then... I was sitting at the picnic table, and someone went to get you--Livy, I guess..." She nods in confirmation. "And then the nurse said to wait here and then you came in."

"Oh, my. You don't remember the drive over here at all? Or the waiting room?"

"No. Where's here?"

"The hospital emergency room."

"Where we brought Livy last week?" She nods, looking concerned. "The nurse, she said something about... pictures?"

"They took an x-ray to check for skull fractures."

"Oh. ...Did I hit my head on something?"

"The ball knocked your head into Kenny's cheek, then it hit his knee, and the ground."

"Oh." That would explain the headache. "Is he OK?"

"You gave him a bloody nose, and he's going to have a black eye. But nothing serious."

"That's good, I guess." He'll probably think the black eye is really cool. I would have.

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Jeez, it doesn't take me this long to develop film. And it's just the negatives; it's not like they're making two sets of 8x10 glossy prints or anything. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"How come they never have anything good to read in these places?"

"I don't know." She looks like she's actually thinking about it; it was kind of a rhetorical question. "I suppose since they have a captive audience they don't worry too much about keeping them entertained."

"I guess."

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Instead of the nurse I dimly remember, it's a doctor who comes in with the x-rays. He looks like a typical TV doctor--I mean like you see on Marcus Welby or Emergency, not like Hawkeye or Trapper John on M*A*S*H. You know, strong jaw, craggy face, neatly groomed hair with that "distinguished" touch of gray at the temples, that sort of thing. He clips the x-rays up on what I thought was a futuristic medicine cabinet, but I realize is actually a light box when he flips the switch.

"Hmm. I don't see any signs of cranial fracture or subdural hematoma, so it appears to be a simple concussion." His deep, warm voice matches his appearance perfectly. He turns to me. "I'd like to check a few more things before I send you home, just to be sure. All right?" I doubt I really have a choice but I can tell he's trying to put me at ease and I appreciate it. I nod and then let him do his thing with shining the penlight in my eyes, and even the rubber mallet thingy just below each kneecap making my legs jerk, which for some reason strikes me as exceptionally silly and makes me giggle. He smiles. "I see your sense of humor is intact." Which makes me want to roll my eyes but for some reason I giggle again. "All right, young lady, you pass with flying colors." He turns to Mom. "She may suffer from headaches or nausea for the rest of the day but she should be feeling better after a good night's sleep. No strenuous activity for the next few days and if you see any unexplained changes in mood or behavior, bring her back in immediately." Mom's nodding her agreement; I'm thinking that last part pretty much describes my entire last week so I'm not sure how she's gonna be able to tell. "You can give her Tylenol if she has headaches."

Mom nods, then looks like something just occurred to her. "Oh, I don't know if this matters at all, but--she had a fainting spell this morning. I'm sure it couldn't be related but I didn't know if it would affect your advice at all."

"Hm. Did she see a doctor about it?"

"No, she's had them a few times in the past and we've been to see her doctor about it. He didn't seem too concerned once he ruled out epilepsy. He said it was probably something she'd grow out of."

He looks intently at me. "Have your fainting spells just happened suddenly, or can you feel them coming on?"

"Oh, I definitely feel them coming."

He nods slightly, and looks like he's thinking. "And is there something you can point to as a cause, some common thread, or do they just seem to happen out of the blue?"

"No, there's always something that sets 'em off. Something that really, really scares me to think about, but I can't not think about it for whatever reason. That doesn't always set me off, but whenever I do faint that seems to be what did it."

"Mmm-hm. Sounds like a kind of vasovagal reaction. Not unlike people who faint at the sight of blood." He looks at Mom. "You're right, it doesn't sound like the fainting spell and the concussion could be at all related, and it doesn't change my advice--but it was good thinking on your part to mention it, just in case."

Huh. Nice to finally have a name for it, even if it doesn't really help.

Something he said a minute ago finally sinks in. "Um, wait--does 'no strenuous activity' mean I shouldn't, like, keep practicing for the cheerleading tryouts?"

"I'm afraid so."

"When can I start again? The tryouts aren't until next week but I don't want to get out of practice." Mom's giving me kind of a funny look.

He thinks for a moment. "I think you should wait at least until Friday to be safe. Then if all seems well I don't see why you couldn't start up again, as long as it doesn't involve any risk of blunt head trauma."

I smile. "OK, I'll stay away from the backflips and roundoffs then." Seeing as how I have no idea how to do those anyway.

"Yes, that would be best." I think he's onto me, from the twinkle in his eye. The twinkle gives way to a piercing look. "That's not how you came to be here today, is it?"

"Huh? No, nonono. Volleyball."

"Ah. Jumped for the ball, fell and hit your head?"

"No, the ball knocked my head into my cousin's face, and then it hit his knee on the way down, apparently." I look at Mom for confirmation and she nods.

He winces. "Ouch. I'd try to avoid that in the future too."

I don't know what it is about this guy that makes me giggle at his corny jokes.

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"I thought you were just doing this cheerleading thing as a favor." So that's what that look was about.

"I was."

"Well, I don't think you owe... her any favors, do you?"

"No, but..." I don't know how to explain it, really. Livy sort of got it when I told her but I don't think either one of us really understands it. "I dunno. I feel like I owe it to myself to see it through." No, it's not that. Or, not just that. "I mean... I dunno. Linda"--uh, just saying the name makes my stomach wrench--"made me realize maybe I had some unfair prejudices against cheerleaders." Mom's looking at me like how can you say that after what she did? "Yeah, I know, I know, but still. She did have more redeeming qualities than I would have thought possible. For a cheerleader, you know? So I guess I kinda feel like I need to give it a fair shot now." That's still not really it, but I guess it'll have to do. "And, you know, it is kinda fun. I guess. If I don't think too much about doing it in front of a bunch of people." Although, you know, I suspect audiences might be more forgiving of a cute girl in a short skirt than... what I used to be.

I don't know. What I do know is thinking about this is making my headache worse. The look of concern on Mom's face isn't helping, either. I turn and look out the window, not really seeing any of the stores and parking lots that make up the endless strip mall that is Walden Boulevard as we go by.

Not thinking helps. A little.

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Amazing. All that knocking a volleyball around, not to mention my head--and I didn't even chip a nail. Go figure.

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Mom's decided "no strenuous activity" means "lie quietly on her bed with the curtains drawn and the door closed and watch TV." Luckily there's a good movie on--Casablanca. Bogie is so cool. And Ingrid Bergman--well, she's beyond beautiful. But I'm not sure I like this Ilsa character she's playing. Kinda wimpy and underhanded for my taste. Too bad I missed, like, the first half of it. 'Course if I hadn't been at the hospital I'd probably have been outside playing volleyball still, and not even known it was on. Oh well. It'll be on TV again someday.

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"...one of the writers, Julius Epstein, has been quoted as saying the screenplay contained 'more corn than in the states of Kansas and Iowa combined. But when corn works, there's nothing better.' Right you are, Mr. Epstein, and it never worked better than here. Now back to the show." I love old movies but they're even better when Bill Kennedy shows 'em 'cause he brings 'em alive for you like this.

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Man, they don't make movies like that anymore. Wish I'd seen the whole thing--it's been a while so I don't remember some of what I missed. At least I didn't miss what has to be one of the best lines in any movie ever: "If that plane leaves the ground and you're not on it, you'll regret it. Maybe not today; maybe not tomorrow--but soon, and for the rest of your life." I mean, what ever happened to writing like that? OK, Brody's "You're gonna need a bigger boat" line in Jaws was pretty cool but it's just not in the same league, you know?

Apparently it's Bogie week on Bill Kennedy at the Movies. Tomorrow he's gonna be showing The African Queen. I'll hafta watch that, especially 'cause it's gonna be my last chance for a long time--I won't be home for it once school starts. What a depressing thought. Unless I get really sick, of course....

Nope, can't think of a way to pull that off. Damn.

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"Oh, sweetie, you should be resting still."

"Yeah, well, the movie's over so I hadda get up to change the channel anyway"--I keep hoping one of our TVs will die so we can get one of those new ones with the remote controls--"plus, I'm thirsty," I point out as I dig in the fridge for a Coke.

"I could have brought you a drink. How's the headache? Are you feeling any better?"

"Um, actually I think I could use some more Tylenol."

"All right. You go lie back down and I'll bring you some."

"OK."

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"Thanks. Um, could you bring me a book, too?" It's that time of day where nothing's on but soap operas, and I figure I could do without any more brain damage at the moment, thanks.

"Sure, sweetie. What would you like?"

"Um, Lisa brought some books for me and we put 'em on my shelf. The hardcover ones. Just bring the first one, I guess. The one on the left." I'm not in the middle of reading anything at the moment and she might be kind of hurt if she saw me starting something else after she made such a big deal about these being so special. Anyway they didn't look too bad so I might as well give 'em a shot.

Urp. Ugh. Washing down pills with carbonated beverages is a bad idea.

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You know, I could really do without the odd looks. At least she isn't saying anything. Out loud, anyway.

"Thanks." If I don't act like it's a big deal to me maybe she'll just go away and leave me in peace.

Damn, she's still here. And still giving me that look. "What?" I try not to sound too irritated.

"Oh... nothing. Enjoy your book." She gives me the funniest little smile and finally leaves.

Jeez. Parents.

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"Sweetie, wake up."

"Hunh?" I start to panic until I remember school hasn't started yet.

"Dinner's on the grill. Time to wake up and get cleaned up. Feeling any better?"

"Uh huh. How long 's I 'sleep?" My mouth seems a little slower to wake up than the rest of me.

"Oh, an hour or so. How's your headache?"

"Still kinda sore where I bonked it. Feels more like a bruise than a headache now."

"I don't doubt it. You'll probably have a nice lump there for a couple of days. Enjoying your book?"

Wait, what did I do with it? Oh, yeah, I set it on the floor. "Um... yeah, it's really good. Sort of like a Tom Sawyer for girls. Nice change from my usual stuff." An image pops into my head and I let out a laugh.

"What's funny?"

"I was just remembering the part where Mrs. Lynde calls Anne ugly and Anne just lets her have it." I guess that was just before I put it down to nap. I think I woulda gotten along pretty well with Anne Shirley. I dunno 'bout 'bosom friends,' seein's how I'm kinda deficient in the bosom department, but 'kindred spirits' for sure.

Mom gets this funny smile, shakes her head and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. "Well, you can read more later. C'mon, go get washed up for dinner."

"OK, I'm up, I'm up."

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Ugh. My eye makeup must've gotten all smeared while I was sleeping. At least, I hope it wasn't like this before and nobody bothered to tell me. Maybe I should just clean it all off--it's not like I need it dressed like this. Or, wait--if I'm not supposed to be active anymore today I might as well put the dress back on.

I guess I need to clean this off anyway, to redo it. I'm not sure I could fix it without starting over.

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"Mo-om!"

"What is it, sweetie? Are you all right?"

Wow, how'd she get here so quick? "Um--yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I just wondered if you know an easier way to get this stuff off. Soap and water doesn't seem to work very well."

She looks briefly annoyed, but then seems happy--for the opportunity to teach me something useful I guess. "You take off makeup with cold cream. Didn't Grandmother buy you any yesterday?" I shake my head. "I have a jar in the second drawer, towards the back... that's it, there." I take it out and open it. "Just take a tissue or some toilet paper, get a little cold cream on it and use it to wipe off the makeup. Be careful not to get it in your eyes."

OK, this stuff feels weird but... "Wow. Hey, that does work better. Thanks!"

----------

Hm, hair's kinda mussed--better take out the braid and re-do it.

Ow! Pulling the hair into braids hurts my bruise. Better just brush it up into a ponytail--kind of a loose one at that.

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"Ready to rejoin the party, sweetie?" OK, nodding vigorously--bad idea. Mom looks sympathetic as I force my grimace back into a smile.

"How's my makeup look?" It seemed a lot easier to get it right this time, or at least a lot faster, which is why I'm getting a second opinion. Mom looks closely.

"Hm. Not bad."

"Just 'not bad?'"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't be so critical. It looks fine. It's not a professional job, but it's better than I'd have been able to do at your age."

Yeah, but you didn't wear makeup at my age, did you Mom? Maybe I'd better not wear any to school until I can see how good the other girls are at it and make sure I won't look like an idiot.

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"It's alive!" I roll my eyes at Lori from across the yard as her announcement brings forth a few laughs, a couple of cheers and some whistles. It takes me a second to realize the cheers and the ensuing clapping are for my return to the party, not Lori's joke; when I do, I feel myself blush. To deflect the attention off myself and back to the joke I start staggering with stiff arms and legs like Frankenstein's monster as I continue on to the chow line. That gets a few more laughs than Lori did, then everyone goes back to what they were doing before.

"Hey, sis. Feeling better?" Liv's voice from behind startles me.

"Mostly, yeah." A worrisome thought occurs to me. "Um, hey--have the Weisses showed up yet? They were gonna drop by for a while."

She's looking at me really funny. What--oh, shit. Now I remember.

"Uhmmm, right. So, are they still here?"

"No, they left already." Whew. One less thing to stress out about.

I look around. "Hey, where's Felicia? I really need to talk to her."

Liv looks... concerned, I guess is how I'd describe it. "She left too."

"Oh." This isn't a good sign. I feel kinda sick to my stomach. "I thought she was gonna stay late."

"Yeah." I open my mouth to ask what happened but she cuts me off before I can say anything. "I already talked to her. I need to tell you about that. Tomorrow, though." I try to protest but she cuts me off again. "No, tomorrow. Mom said no more stress tonight. Don't worry, she's not mad at you--not really." I'm relieved by that, but as the implications of what she's saying--and not saying--start to really sink in I start feeling really rotten inside, dimly glimpsing how Felicia must be feeling right now and feeling like even if she's not mad at me it's still all my fault.

"But--shouldn't we call her, or--or... something?"

"Not you, at least not tonight. I promised I'd call her later."

My guilty feeling grows until I can almost taste it. "OK." At least Felicia will have a sympathetic ear to talk to. I feel like it should be mine but I know that's not possible this time.

"It'll work out, Joey. You haven't lost a friend."

"I--god, I hope not." I don't have that many left to lose. Suddenly the evening breeze feels chilly on my bare arms and legs.

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"Hey, Leigh." I turn my head slowly so it won't hurt. It's Rob.

"Hey, Rob."

"Sorry 'bout getting you in the head like that. Glad to see you're up and about again. I was worried I'd seriously hurt you."

What, being knocked out isn't serious enough for you? I don't feel like contradicting him though, so I try to hide my annoyance with a smile. "Nah, no big deal. Anyway it wasn't your fault--I wasn't paying close enough attention."

He actually looks pretty relieved I feel that way about it. "Well, I'm just glad you're OK, is all."

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." Another smile, an awkward pause, a little shrug, and I'm not quite sure what's going on here but I guess we're done so... where the heck is Dad sitting?

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"Hey, punkin. Pull up a seat and join your old man. How's your head?"

Any seat-pulling-up will have to be metaphorical, since we're at the picnic table again and not one of the folding card tables that have taken over the volleyball court. "It's been better. But I guess I've got a pretty thick skull."

"Good genes. You get those from me." He raps his forehead with his knuckles.

"Knock wood." I follow suit and gently rap him on the forehead with my knuckles--an old family joke that somehow never ceases to amuse him. "No, my good jeans are in the wash. And I got those from Linda." Saying it seems to hurt a tiny bit less than the last time.

"Pa-dum-pum." He gives me a verbal rim shot. "Obviously didn't hurt your funny bone."

For some reason the same dumb joke that made me giggle when the doctor said it just makes me want to roll my eyes when Dad says it. Everyone else at the table groans. Lori adds, "That was low even for you, Uncle Steve."

"I live for the sound of your groans."

"Yeah, don't--it only encourages him." I look around and notice someone's missing. "Hey Dad, did Michelle ever show up?"

"Right about the time you mysteriously disappeared."

"I don't see her around. Did she go already?" She wouldn't have left without at least having popped in to say 'hi,' would she?

"No, she's here somewhere. Last I saw her she was chatting up your grandfather."

I look around. "No, there he is over by the grill, but I don't see her with him."

I'm startled by a voice from right behind me. "You're not talking about me, are you sugar? And if not, why not?"

"Huh? Billy! Dad, you didn't tell me Billy was coming!" I jump up and nearly tackle him with a big hug. He seems surprised by it, but happy.

Dad looks bemused. "He wasn't sure he could make it and I didn't want you to be disappointed if he couldn't." We usually only ever see him when he's in a show with Dad but he's become almost like an uncle to us over the past couple of years.

"Stand back and let me get a good look at you! Oh, aren't you just adorable. You're going to be breaking all the boys' hearts! Well, most of them," he corrects himself with a grin.

"You don't seem surprised. I take it Dad told you...?"

"Well who do you think suggested he talk to Michelle about you, girl?"

Dad did say she was a friend of his, but for some reason I hadn't made that connection. I suddenly, inexplicably get all misty-eyed and give him another big hug. "Oh, Billy! You're the best."

"Well of course I am." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world but I can tell he's touched. As we sit down he adds, in a lower voice, "Anyway I knew there was something special about you long before he even said anything."

"How?" Now I'm worried about what I did to give myself away before, and who else knew or suspected.

"At the Halloween party last year, when we talked about..."

It takes me a second but his raised eyebrows cue me into what he's alluding to. He's still talking in a lowered voice but doesn't want to take any chances of being overheard I guess. My own eyebrows go up as I nod and try to look casual.

"...And you were asking me all those questions about...?"

I nod apprehensively, but I can't suppress a grin at the memory of him in a fairy princess costume with short hair, bald on top, a neatly groomed beard, and a big stuffed codpiece.

"The questions you asked, and the way you asked them--well, I kind of got the feeling you really weren't... yourself; even though you kind of gave off those vibes, you seemed like you had your head on straight, pardon my French, and it didn't seem like you were just in denial about it--but your interest seemed like a lot more than just simple curiosity. I've been waiting and watching you ever since to see what developed. And I must say I wasn't expecting this, but I wasn't too surprised, either."

"Yeah, you're not the first one to say that. I guess I wasn't hiding it as well as I thought."

Billy's saying more but I can't hear it over a sudden--and, I hope, unrelated--outburst of laughing from the other end of the picnic table, and anyway I'm not really paying attention 'cause I just caught a whiff of something that's somehow really familiar and I'm trying to figure out what it is and where I've smelled it before. It's faintly reminiscent of burning asphalt but we live on a gravel road and they're not doing any construction nearby so that couldn't be it. Then I have a flashback to sitting at a sidewalk café with Mom and Livy and it all clicks.

"Um, Billy?" He looks a little put out at the interruption but I ignore it and press on. "Does Michelle smoke?" As I'm asking this I get up and start trying to locate the source of the acrid reek.

"She used to, but she quit years ago. Why?" He gets up too and follows a few steps behind me as I get to where I can see around the corner of the house.

"Apparently she started up again." Michelle's leaning against the side of the garage, looking fit to be tied and puffing away furiously. The unmistakable stench is strangely making me nostalgic for Geneva and Paris. She sees us and looks a little embarrassed.

"How did you know it was her?" I can't tell if Billy's impressed or just thinks I'm nuts.

"Because she's the only one here who'd be able to stand to smoke those." I wrinkle my nose and indicate the battered blue pack in her left hand.

Looking mildly irritated, Michelle drops the remains of the noisome cancer stick on the walkway and crushes it under the toe of her sandal. "Yes, I 'ave been told Gauloise are an acquired taste." She looks at me and sighs. "I am sorry, Joey. I didn't know it would bother you."

"Oh, it's all right; it kinda reminds me of home." I don't know why--I mean, the whole time we were there I just desperately wanted to come back to the States--but for some reason now I think of Europe as home. The grass is always greener, I guess. "Just take it downwind next time, OK?" She nods and sighs again. "But... I mean, why?"

"It 'elps me relax when I am tense. I only 'ave to resort to this once in a great while; I've 'ad this pack since I quit--nearly three years ago now." As she returns it to her purse she sees the unasked question on my face. "Your grandpá¨re loves you but 'e is a stubborn, arrogant old fool."

Shit. She's been trying to get him to see reason, because I asked her to, and this is the result. I feel guilty. "That's OK; thanks for trying, anyway."

"De rien." But she has a sour look on her face, like she isn't too happy about the outcome.

Billy's been watching this exchange with a puzzled look, but now he seems to have caught on. "Anything I can do to help out here, muffin?"

Even in my disappointment I can't keep the corners of my mouth from twitching up at how easily he's adapted his little terms of endearment to my new situation. "Sugar" and "girl" and "muffin" so far--as opposed to all the "studs" and "sports" and "tigers" he used to tag me with. Even though they're really stereotyped I have to admit I like the change. But--"No, I can't think of anything. But thanks for offering." He looks disappointed and gives me a consoling one-armed hug.

"I 'ate to leave it like this. I 'ave let you down, Joey."

"No, come on--you tried your best and that's all I could ask."

"Even so, 'aving failed in my best efforts to persuade a supposedly reasonable man leaves me in a foul mood, and filled with self-doubt."

"Oh, honey. Never doubt yourself. You're a beautiful, loving person who deserves some happiness in life." Billy never likes to see anyone down on themselves. Michelle just shrugs but I can tell it helps a little.

Huh. Why didn't I think of this before? "I have an idea. Come with me."

----------

"You are an evil, conniving little witch." I know he means 'witch' spelled with a 'b' but Billy's got a wicked grin and a look of almost admiration on his face as he says it.

"Oh, no. I'm just an amateur. I'll leave this to the pros." I nod toward Grandmother, who is deep in conversation with Michelle, plotting her husband's downfall. She sees me and winks.

"Poor sap doesn't stand a chance."

"Nope." Now I'm wearing a wicked grin too.

----------

"I love this time of the evening, when the fireflies come out."

"And the mosquitoes." Billy swats at one landing on his forearm.

"Yeah, well."

"Little bloodsucking parasites. I think they were theatrical agents in a past life."

"You believe in reincarnation?"

"Oh, I don't know if believe is the right word. But it's a possibility. Don't you think?"

"I s'pose anything's possible. It just seems, I dunno--too much like wishful thinking, you know?"

"Well, what's wrong with that? If no one really knows, why not make up your own answer? One you like?"

"I dunno. I guess I don't believe in believing in something just 'cause you want it to be true. I guess I've been disappointed too many times doing that." He looks at me sympathetically. Sigh. "No amount of wishing, or magic spells, or self-hypnosis, or politely-worded requests to various deities ever managed to make my body right, or even to make me OK with it being like this."

"Well, but things seem to be moving in that direction now, right?"

"I guess. Sorta. Maybe."

"So, 'maybe' one of those wishes or spells 'sorta' worked, or 'maybe' one of those deities was listening, and it's just taking time to unfold."

"Or maybe it was inevitable that sooner or later someone would notice I sang like a girl and I was just lucky it ended up like this, and not with me getting the crap kicked outta me at school after the Christmas pageant."

"Maybe. I like my idea better."

"OK."

"Don't you?"

"Nah. I'm too old to believe in magic anymore."

"Well I'm not." He reaches gently toward my face and brushes his hand against my hair and for a second I freak out that he's gonna try to kiss me or something, which makes no sense whatsoever but it takes me a second to realize that and by the time I do he's pulled his hand back and there's a firefly on it, going blink-blink-blink, blink-blink-blink with an eerie bluish-green glow. He raises his hand and gives it a little shake and off it flies, blink-blink-blink, blink-blink-blink, trying to impress the girl fireflies I guess. Or maybe it is a girl firefly; I wouldn't know how to tell.

As I'm watching the firefly, kind of idly wondering how they tell, and whether any of them feel like I do about it, I hear piano music coming from inside the house and the first three notes match up perfectly with one of the firefly's blink-blink-blinks so I have to laugh. Then I hear a voice singing "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens" and I can't help myself--I join in for the next line: "Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens;" Billy smiles and adds his voice for "Brown paper packages tied up with strings; These are a few of my favorite things" and then swats a mosquito and says, "I think that's our cue. Shall we go join the fun?"

"Try and stop me!" Did I mention I love showtunes?

----------

I guess I shouldn't be surprised Tim can play the piano, seeing as how he's the music director and all. I just wish he'd play something other than stuff from The Sound of Music, you know? Not that I don't like it; I mean, yeah, it's great, but aren't we gonna be singing enough of it the next couple of months to last us the rest of our lives? I mean, I don't know 'bout you, but I get tired of hearing the same stuff over and over and over.

After he brings us back to Doe he starts playing a familiar intro and looks over at Dad, who smiles back at him. Then he turns to me and says, "Since Ann's not here tonight, why don't you take her part?" I'm assuming he's talking about the lady playing Maria, whose name is Ann something-or-other. I shrug and nod; I mean, I guess I'm not tired of it yet and it's not like I don't know the words or something. By this time Dad's started singing and proceeds to do a really nice rendition of Edelweiss once all the way through solo, to a hushed and rapt audience, then starts on the second verse but gets choked up with emotion and goes quiet. It takes me just long enough to realize he's doing the competition scene from the play that I almost miss my cue but somehow manage to chime in with "Small and white, clean and bright" at the right time and, deciding to go with the spirit of the moment, at the appropriate point I motion for the others to join in, which they do. As we get to the end I even do the little vocal harmony Julie Andrews does on the record.

Tim finishes off with a piano flourish and as we all congratulate ourselves on a stellar performance I notice Grandfather sort of peeking in from the dining room, looking sort of... confused, or worried, or something. But as soon as he sees me looking his way he sort of over-casually turns back to whoever it is he's sitting with. Judging from who's not in here singing with us I'm guessing it's one or more of Grandmother, Mom, Aunt Kathy, or Uncle Keith.

When the applause and back-slapping die down a bit Tim turns to Michelle. "You haven't been joining in the fun tonight. Not shy, are you?"

She laughs. "'Ardly. But one cannot sing when one doesn't know the words."

"Ah." He smiles. "Is there something I can play for you, then?"

Her smile is dubious. "Not unless you know any á‰dith Piaf. Je Ne Regrette Rien is something of a personal anthem."

His smile is regretful. "Sorry, no--at least not without the sheet music."

My smile is delighted. "You can sight-read?"

He looks down his nose at me. "But of course, young lady."

"Then we're in luck. Look in the piano bench."

He looks surprised and skeptical at the same time. "You have that in there?"

"Uh huh. ...Hey, c'mon, we lived in Paris for a year." I get some funny looks for saying it like Pah-rhee with a French accent, but I can't help it; that's how it's pronounced. Saying Pear-iss would be like saying Mackin-ack island or Salt-Sainte-Marie. I just can't bring myself to do it.

He raises an eyebrow but stands and opens the bench. He looks through it and thumbs through a couple of books of sheet music that catch his eye before finally finding the á‰dith Piaf one. It's in French which from the look on Tim's face he doesn't read but luckily the notes are the same in any language.

He finds the appropriate page with some help from Michelle and looks it over--"Oh, sure, I think I can handle this"--and starts playing something that sounds like the keyboard part from The Beach Boys' California Girls. I see Michelle looking almost as aghast as I am confused, until I realize what's going on. He's got the notes right, but...

"I, er, I take it you 'ave never 'eard this performed before?" I can tell that's way more polite than what she was thinking.

He stops playing. "No, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this song. Was I playing at the wrong tempo?" He starts scrutinizing the sheet music for clues.

"Not the tempo so much as..." Michelle seems a little at a loss for the right words and looks to me for help.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be like a march, or an anthem, like she said. You know, like when they all sing La Marseillaise in Rick's Café in Casablanca?" I love that scene. Never fails to bring a tear to my eye.

"You mean like this?" He starts over and bangs out a couple of bars, then looks at us to see our reactions.

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"Oui, trés bon."

"All right, then. Once more from the top." OK, this is the song I remember. As Michelle starts in with the lyrics I get a shiver and goosebumps. She's no á‰dith Piaf but she's not half bad, and she's really getting across how much this song means to her. I jump a little when I feel a tap on my shoulder, but it's just Ken. He leans close and whispers, "What's it mean?"

I start whispering translations of the lyrics back to him, between the lines so he can hear me 'cause Michelle's really putting her heart into it. She's already a few lines into it but it repeats later so I just start translating from where she is.

"...It's all the same to me

"No, absolutely nothing

"No, I regret nothing

"It's paid, swept away, forgotten

"I don't give a damn about the past

"With my memories

"I lit a fire

"My sorrows, my pleasures

"I no longer need them..."

But now I have to stop translating 'cause Michelle's waving for me to join in and I can't turn her down after all she's done for me. I shrug an apology to Ken as I'm unceremoniously dragged to Michelle's side and try to remember what words come next, until I realize I can just read them over Tim's shoulder. It's a couple of lines later before I join in, but Michelle's emotion is contagious and by the time we get to the last couple of lines I think I'm feeling it almost as much as she is:

"Non, je ne regrette rien

"Car ma vie

"Car mes joies

"Aujourd'hui

"á‡a commence avec toi..."

I have a lump in my throat as everyone starts clapping and cheering, and I reach over and give Michelle a big hug and try to hold back a tear. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tim get a kind of mischievous look on his face. I figure out why when I hear the opening bars of La Marseillaise, which gets everyone cheering again. I smile at Michelle, who smiles back but shrugs--oh, right, she's Belgian; I guess she doesn't know the words. But I do, and so does Dad so the two of us belt out the French national anthem like we're trying to drown out a bar full of drunken Nazis.

As we finish and everyone starts to cheer again, I hear someone shout out, "Play it again, Sam!" Which makes everyone laugh, and then Tim does start playing 'it,' which makes everyone laugh some more, and then Uncle Keith sticks his head in from the dining room and says, "'As time goes by' we need to get going, kids. We've got a long drive and I've got to go to work in the morning." Which elicits a chorus of "Awwww's," especially from Lisa, Lori, Ken, Livy, and me. And Tim brings the song to a crashing, discordant halt with a look of deep sorrow on his face, which sets everyone off laughing again, but it's kind of half-hearted this time 'cause we can all tell this means the party's winding down.

###

Chapter 22: All you need is love

 

"'Bye Grandmother." I give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "'Bye Grandfather. I'm gonna miss you." I hesitantly reach out to hug him and am relieved when he accepts.

"We'll miss you too. Be sure to call and let us know how you're doing."

"I will, Grandfather." Huh. He still seems a little confused by me maybe, but something feels different. I guess it's that he's making more of an effort to accept me. Or--holy shit, he just kissed me on the cheek! Should I do it back, or--yeah, I guess I'd better. OK, he's acting like it's no big deal but he's kinda blushing a little. I guess I am too.

Wow. That was unexpected. Livy saw and her eyes are kinda big too.

----------

"He what?" No way! I'm still asleep and it's all a dream. It must be.

"On the condition that we get you in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist as soon as humanly possible. And he gave me the name of an endocrinologist he used to work with in the Army Air Corps during the War, who was from this area." Mom sees me getting ready to start bouncing up and down for joy and holds up a hand to head me off. "If the psychiatrist agrees it's the right thing for you."

"Oh, OK. Can I see it?"

She hands me the prescription chit to read. It's barely legible, between the usual doctor's bad handwriting and Grandfather's shakiness which is mostly why he retired but I can definitely make out "Aldactone."

"He says it's normally used for high blood pressure, but it works by blocking testosterone so you shouldn't have to worry about any unwanted changes starting while we're trying to work things out. It's relatively safe and if you stop taking it everything will go pretty much back to normal."

As if I'd ever want that to happen. "But--why didn't he say anything to me?"

"I think he just didn't want a big emotional scene. You know how he is."

"Yeah. I just wish I'd had a chance to thank him, is all." But I guess he was right not to mention it to me, 'cause my eyes are getting all watery now. I can't believe he did this for me.

----------

"I'm going to run some errands--pick up your prescription and some groceries, and get you signed up for school. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"I was kinda hoping to get a ride to the library. I guess I can ride my bike though."

"I'll be going right by it. I could drop you off and then pick you up when I'm done."

"Great, thanks!"

----------

"I'll be back for you in an hour or two."

"OK." I don't know whether I'm in heaven or hell. I mean, all these books, for free--but I can't keep any of them no matter how good they are. It's like that Tantalus guy in the Greek myth.

I guess it's not quite like that--if I find one I like that much I can go out and buy it. And hope it's not out of print, and in stock, and I can afford it....

All right, enough of that. I came here for a purpose.

----------

Alphabetical, by author, OK--MAA to MCD... Here we go. McCaffrey, Anne. "Dragonquest." Cool, they have it. Well, it's in their card catalog at least. I'll just grab one of these index cards and write down the number.

Huh. The other side of the card catalog is alphabetical by subject. I wonder, as long as I'm here--I'm sure they won't have anything, but you never know. TOU to TRE... trade... trampolines... transportation... "Transsexual Phenomenon, The."

Whoa, why is my heart pounding suddenly?

And it's by H. Benjamin.

----------

OK, check to make sure nobody's looking--grab it quick, hold it so the title doesn't show, now move along quickly so no one sees where I got it from, but not so fast as to draw attention....

----------

"Time to go."

Huh? Oh, it's just Mom. "Jeez, you scared me. ...Um, I've got, like, five pages to go. Can I finish this first? I didn't want to have to check it out."

"What are you reading?"

"Um, just..." I lift up the front cover just enough so she can read it, and snap it back down quick when her eyes go kinda big.

"Oh, uh--of course, sweetie." She sounds way too casual as she changes the subject: "You're all signed up at Van Helsing. I've got your schedule out in the car."

"Oh, cool, OK. This should only take a couple minutes."

"That's fine. Take your time."

God, this just feels so awkward. Jeez Mom, will you please stop reading over my shoulder? I can't concentrate if you're gonna make me all self-conscious about it.

----------

You know, it's nice he bothered to study us and all, and point out that we're not just a bunch of sicko perverts, but man--Dr. H. Benjamin, MD has some fucked-up ideas about what it means to be a boy or a girl. I mean, it's not like he wrote this thing before Women's Lib got started. Yeah, sure, he grew up in a different time, and I guess so did most of the people he studied, but you'd think someone writing a book that's essentially about what makes someone a boy or a girl would, like, try to be up on the latest thinking on the subject, you know? Not mired in rigid medieval notions of masculinity and femininity. Gloria Steinem would have a field day with some of the stuff in there. I mean, I think he dispelled a lot of misconceptions people might have had about us, but it's pretty clear he doesn't have any more of a clue than I do what really makes us tick. Maybe less.

All in all, kind of a disturbing read. I almost wish I hadn't found it.

While I'm thinking about it, though--"Hey Mom, you got my pills on you?"

"In my purse."

"Can I take the first one now? There's a drinking fountain over there."

"All right, I don't see why not." She gets the brown plastic bottle out of her purse, takes out an orange pill and breaks it in half, handing me one piece. "The pharmacist said to start with half a pill twice daily for the first week to get used to it, then to go up to a whole pill twice a day."

I flip my hair over to one side and hold it back as I take a sip from the fountain to wash it down. I'm almost giddy as I swallow it. I feel like there should be some kind of ceremony or celebration or something. I can't believe I'm actually doing this! Finally!

----------

I want to start reading Dragonquest to get my mind off that creepy book, but I guess I should check out my school schedule first. Let's see--nope, I don't see any P.E. Phew. OK, now to look at what I do have.

First period, Algebra I. Not sure I like the idea of math that early in the morning. Second period, English; bo-ring. I wonder what stupid "classic" they'll make us read this year--hope it's not "A Separate Peace" again. Man, that has to be the most pointless book ever written. I mean, I realize science fiction isn't really considered literature so Heinlein or Clarke would be too much to hope for, but would it kill them to assign something by Edgar Allan Poe or Oscar Wilde or Jack London or someone like that who knows how to actually write?

OK, third period--History: Kings and Queens of Britain. Huh, that might actually be interesting. Looks like the ninth graders get the first lunch shift, then--fourth period, Drafting; I guess that's useful in case I want to make blueprints for that spaceship I'm planning to build in the back yard one of these days. Or something. Fifth period, Science, with Mr. Valuta; cool. And last but not least--

"German? You signed me up for German? I wanted to take French!" What was she thinking? And why's she raising her eyebrow at me like that?

"You already speak almost fluent French."

"Yeah, but--" That's kinda the point. Less work that way.

"You probably know some words the teacher doesn't."

"Yeah, but--" Again, I don't see the problem here.

"You'd be wasting your time in a junior-high French class."

"No, I wouldn't. It'd help me keep in practice. Charbon's not much of a conversationalist, in case you haven't noticed. And you and Dad--" I grimace. I mean, Mom can get by pretty well in French for shopping and basic dinner conversation and stuff, and Dad's got a decent grasp of the language too but their accents--man, it hurts my ears to listen to them.

Mom's looking kind of offended now. I think I may have mentioned about the accents once or twice when we lived there. Hey, I just call it like I see it.

"You have a sister who speaks it as well as you do, in case you've forgotten."

She has a point there. Guess it didn't occur to me since we haven't spoken French to each other since we moved back. Well, whaddaya want? Before last week we barely spoke English to each other, unless it was insults. "Yeah, and she's taking French this year."

"That's different; she's taking fourth year French. She stands a chance of actually learning something she didn't already know. And you can learn it along with her, by helping her study and practice."

Great, now I'm effectively taking two languages this year. "But--German? It's such a... barbaric-sounding language." All that hissing and spitting and running all the words together--sounds like you're cursing with your mouth full of bratwurst and sauerkraut. I wonder if the teacher will get offended if I can't help myself and end up doing Sergeant Schultz and Colonel Klink impressions when I speak it. Actually that might be kind of fun, now that I think about it.

"It's the language of science. A lot of research is published in German."

"Huh. Really?" I did not know that. You learn something new every day.

"Yes, that's why I took it in high school. Well, actually I think that may be even more true of Russian these days, but they don't offer that at Van Helsing. You can start taking it next year at Addams."

Oh joy - that'll make three languages. "Wait, you took German for the science? I didn't know you were that into it." I mean, yeah, she reads Scientific American, but who doesn't? Well, Dad, of course. And Livy. But other than them.

"I was planning on following Daddy into a career in medicine. Girls didn't really do that back then but I was never one to let that stop me. Then I met Steve and none of that seemed so important anymore."

"Wow. Doctor Mom--that woulda been so cool. So how come you're going back for accounting and not medicine?" She's on her summer break too but she started studying for her CPA last year when Livy and I were finally old enough to be left home alone in the afternoon.

"Well, for one thing we'd end up paying tuition for you, me, and Livy all at the same time. At least this way I'll be bringing in enough extra to help put you kids through college by the time you start."

"Oh. But still, I mean--it's kinda sad that you don't get to do what you really wanted to with your life."

She looks kinda wistful as she says, "I am doing what I really want to with my life. We all have choices to make. Marrying Steve was one of the easiest I've ever made and I've never regretted it." Most of me wants to retch but some part of me is wondering what it'd be like to feel that way about someone when she goes on, "Anyway it wouldn't have worked out. I wouldn't have been able to stand being around all those sick people all day. Too depressing." I give her a kind of shocked look but she can only hold the deadpan for a second before breaking into a grin.

"Well I think you'd have been a great doctor. But you make an even better mom." OK, now I'm making myself want to retch. I'm not sure where that came from.

"Thank you, sweetie. Are you feeling all right?" She puts her hand on my forehead to check for a fever.

"No, I seem to be coming down with a terminal case of schmaltz. Quick, go put on a Janis Joplin record before it's too late!"

----------

Bing-bong. Huh. Who could that be at the door?

"I'll get it! I'll get it!"

"No, 'sokay, Liv--I got it." I turn the knob and pull the door open. Why's she sound kinda panicky? Expecting a boyfriend or something?

No, it's just--

Oh.

Uh.

My mouth is kinda dry all of a sudden so my voice comes out as kind of a croak. "Hi, Felicia."

She looks about like I feel--like she'd rather be just about anywhere else right now. "H-hi, Leigh. How's... how's your head?"

"Better." I'm trying to make myself look her in the eye but I can't quite do it. Then again she's not exactly trying to make eye contact herself. I hear Livy coming up behind us but she's not saying anything. Waiting to see what happens, I guess. "But I'm the one who should be asking how you are."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I... saw the look on your face, just before...." She looks really uncomfortable. "I mean, I just... god, Felicia, I'm soooo sorry, I mean, I never expected him to ask me out, and at first I didn't even realize he had, I thought it was just a friendly game of pinball, and...." Oh god, she's crying, no--bawling her eyes out now and I don't know what to do--should I back away and let Livy console her, or--no, I gotta do something, this is all my fault; I reach out and wrap my arms around her and hug her as tightly as I can and murmur "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry" over and over. And she's not pulling away, so maybe this is right. Gently I guide her over to the sofa and sit down next to her, arms still wrapped around her, rocking gently as I feel my shoulder getting damp from her tears, and Livy sits down on her other side and gives me the "OK" sign before joining in the hug so I guess this is right. Gradually the sobs wracking her body get farther and farther apart and less and less intense.

"I just..." Oh man, the sadness, the pain in her voice stabs me through the heart. "It hurts, you know? In here." She hugs herself. "I didn't mean to fall in love with him. I just couldn't help it. He's so...." This sets her off sobbing again.

After a while she's able to catch her breath and go on. "Like, he never did or said anything to make me think he felt the same, you know? And you'd think after a while I'd just give up and get over it, but it's like--I dunno, like that just made me even more desperate for him, you know?" I don't know, but I nod anyway. I've never been in love, and the idea that it can do this to you doesn't exactly make me wanna run out and try it, you know?

But I guess she realizes I have no way of understanding 'cause she tries to explain. "It's like in the movies, when someone's lost in the desert, right? And they think they see water way off in the distance, only they walk for days and days and never get any closer, just getting thirstier and thirstier, you know?" Liv hands her a tissue to blow her nose and after doing that and then crying some more, she kind of moans, "I guess I just have to admit to myself I've been chasing a mirage. I mean, it's not like he's maybe just too shy to ask a girl out, is it?" She looks kind of disgustedly at me and suddenly I feel like a complete and total shit. I mean, I didn't do anything, at least not intentionally, but I did want to go out with him and I can't help feeling like it's still all my fault. I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut to keep from crying.

"Sorry. I never meant--"

I hear her sigh. "No, I know. I don't blame you. I blame him. And me, for being stupid enough to let myself fall for him."

I turn back to face her and give her a big hug. "You're not stupid. He's stupid, for not seeing what a great girl was right under his nose the whole time."

"Thanks. ...So, I mean--I'm not sure I really wanna know, but I'm just curious how it happened."

"How what happened?"

"How he asked you out, and stuff. Liv seemed kinda confused about the details."

Now they're both looking at me with a combination of curiosity and fear--I suspect for different reasons. "So, you remember the carload of idiots that drove by and spooked our horses?" They both nod. "And I thought one of them looked a little familiar?" More nods, followed by eyes getting big--first Liv, then Felicia. "Yeah, one of those idiots was Rich, it turns out. I guess he recognized me too, 'cause he called to see if I was OK, only I wasn't home so he talked to Mom." I see Felicia kind of quietly sigh, I guess 'cause it wasn't her he called to check on. "He wouldn't tell her what happened though." I turn to Liv. "Didn't she ask you about it?"

She shakes her head, looking puzzled. "No." Then after a second, "Oh, wait. Maybe. She asked if anything interesting happened at Felicia's. I told her about the chickens." She looks like something just occurred to her. "I guess that explains the funny look she gave me. Like I was hiding something."

"So, how did this turn into a date?" Felicia's trying really hard not to sound bitter about it.

"He, um, asked Mom to have me call him back. And I did, the next day, and he said he was afraid I'd be mad at him, and I was like 'who says I'm not,' and he apologized up, down, and sideways for being such a big jerk and then asked if I wanted to play pinball with him on Saturday, and I love pinball so I said 'sure, cool.' And then everyone started teasing me about having a date with Rich and I was all, 'no, it's just pinball,' but after a while it got to me and I realized, yeah, he probably did mean it as a date and I felt like a big idiot for saying yes to a date with the boy my best friend is in love with. So I called him back and said I couldn't do it. 'Cause, you know, pinball is pinball, but best friends don't grow on trees." And she's crying again, and I guess I coulda tried harder and been more sensitive about how I explained it, but--

She grabs me and nearly squeezes the life out of me and says, "Best friend? That is so sweeeet! Am I really your best friend?"

"Uh, yeah. Totally. You kidding? I could never have made it through this past week without you."

"Wow, this is so great, you guys. I haven't really had a best friend since Katie Johnson moved away in seventh grade, and now I have two. And you're sisters." This whole crying-when-you're-happy thing is gonna take some getting used to. I mean, yeah, I'm doing it too, but it's kinda confusing, you know? I'm used to just trying not to cry, ever, and it's taking some getting used to that there doesn't seem to be any inappropriate occasion to cry anymore. Not that that stops me. Don't look at me like that, Liv! I can't help it.

"We should make a pact."

I roll my eyes at Liv. "What is this, a Gidget movie?" She says it like she's been planning to all along and just waiting for the right moment. This is so not like her. What's she up to?

"I'm serious. The three of us can still be friends because you noticed what was going on and did the right thing when you needed to. Next time might not turn out so well. So we need to make a pact that there won't ever be a next time." The mood has suddenly gotten very solemn and I have to fight back an urge to giggle. Liv has our full attention now, and even Felicia's stopped crying, at least for the moment. "We need to vow that we'll never let boys come between us."

She holds out her right hand, pinky extended and slightly curled. Felicia hooks her pinky around Liv's, and now they're both looking at me. Not sure if it's what they want me to do, I kind of hesitantly reach out and hook my pinky around both of theirs. Liv nods.

"Now, repeat after me: 'Friends first. Friends last. Friends always.'" Yeah, she has been thinking about this. She didn't come up with that on the spur of the moment.

Felicia and I repeat the chant: "Friends first. Friends last. Friends always." Then we unhook our fingers and go into a three-way hug. It's corny as hell, but that doesn't stop the tears from flowing like Niagara Falls. And, you know, it seems to be just what Felicia needed. I think I have a whole new respect for Liv.

----------

OK, I've got clothes all laid out for tomorrow morning so I won't have to be in such a rush to get ready. And it only took me, what, an hour and a half to make up my mind about what to wear? I mean, yeah, I bought that one outfit specifically to make a good impression the first day of school, and it is really cute and all, but I was just having second thoughts, you know? Like, is it really me? 'Cause I'm not really completely sure what that is yet and would I be, like, setting expectations, committing myself to being seen a certain way, as a certain kind of person, that I'd end up regretting later? Would I end up putting off people who might be friends because I looked too 'popular' or 'stuck up?' Or maybe I'd look too, I dunno, prissy and lose any chance of credibility with the 'cool' crowd. I mean, I kind of knew who I was before, or at least had found a comfortable little corner to hide in, so I didn't have to even think about this stuff. This is me, starting my new life, and I want to get it right. This is important.

I really shoulda asked Felicia to help me figure this out. 'Cause, you know, she's the type of person I'd want to make friends with. Only I didn't want to ruin the time she was here by thinking about school. I did ask Liv but she didn't really see what the big deal was and thought I should just go with my first choice so she was no help at all. And Mom--I mean, come on, she's a mom; need I say more?

But I finally came up with something I think says what I want it to say about me, I hope. Now I just need to get to sleep, only I keep freaking out about being at school and not being able to remember where I'm supposed to go next and I've gotten back up and gone over my schedule like four times already so you'd think I'd have it down cold by now, 'cause there's only six classes and six teachers on there, plus lunch. Shit, does lunch come before or after fourth period? OK, make that five times. Maybe I should just keep it under my pillow tonight so I don't have to keep getting up to look at it. After lunch. Fourth period comes after lunch. Three classes, eat, three more classes. Not that hard to remember.

Come on, sleep already. Tomorrow's gonna be hard enough if I'm well rested for it. I mean, it's like, the point of no return, you know? Once I show up at school as a girl there's absolutely, positively no going back.

Not that I have any desire whatsoever to do that--go back, I mean--but it's like, I dunno, I'm looking forward to it 'cause once I cross that bridge it'll make it that much harder for anyone to take it away from me, you know? Practically impossible. But at the same time I'm dreading it 'cause, well, number one 'cause it's school and school sucks, of course, but also 'cause--I mean, all those people, you know? All those eyes. All those chances to fuck up. All those... I'm not even sure what. Kind of just a general nameless dread, you know? The Big Unknown.

I mean, I've never been to school as a girl before. What if it totally sucks? Even worse than usual, I mean? What if, like, the girls decide to pick on me, and play those mean talking-behind-your-back games on me and shit like Livy was talking about? I'm, like, so totally unprepared for any of that. What if I just, you know, can't handle it?

Jeez, I need to get a grip on myself. This is what I've always wanted, right? This is how it's supposed to be. How it was supposed to be all along. So maybe I have a little catching up to do. Maybe it'll be hard work at first. But at least, for once in my life, it'll be for something I want, something I care about, something that matters to me--not something I've been told I have to do, or been told should matter to me.

It suddenly occurs to me that this week has all been a big dress rehearsal. Tomorrow morning the curtain finally opens on my new life. My real life. That realization fills me with a warm glow of anticipation and excitement. And raw terror.

Shit!

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To Be Continued...