Goodbye Stranger (16 page)

She covered her face with her hands and whispered into them. “Marco.”

“Whoa. Really? But you said he’s like—”

She nodded. “We were babies together! His parents are my
godparents
.”

“Does he know how you feel?”

“No! He has no idea. And I can’t tell him—it would wreck everything. I don’t even understand how it happened. But it’s been almost two years.”

“Two
years
?”

“Yes!” Gina smiled. “Two years. And it feels so good to have someone I can tell. Most of the girls at my middle school were such bitches.”

—

A vaguely familiar kid with sunglasses and a smirk on his face is hovering near the cash register. Adrienne looks up and groans. “Not again.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Don’t call me beautiful, kid.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Sixteen going on twelve.”

His confidence is unshaken. “Can I get a smoothie?”

You remember now: he’s Alex, from middle school. He was a year ahead of you, and you’re pretty sure he’s still a friend of Bridge’s brother.

Adrienne puts a hand on her hip. “What kind of smoothie?”

He smiles. “You pick something out for me.”

She pats her shoulders. “Me pick?”

Alex nods.

Adrienne turns her back on him and walks over to the smoothie blender. You watch Alex read the back of her T-shirt. He shakes his head, smiling as if she’s adorable. He’s so arrogant. You never understood why Jamie liked him.

Then you catch yourself having that thought and laugh.

“Hey,” Alex says, noticing you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I forget your name,” he says.

“That’s okay,” you tell him. “Is school out already?”

He gives you a funny look. “No, I have a free period.”

Adrienne comes back, holding what looks like a glass of frothy milk with brown and green stuff floating in it.

“That’s—a smoothie?” Alex says.

She nods. “You told me to pick the ingredients.”

“Is this because of the other night with Jamie?”

“Don’t you want to know what’s in it?”

“Okay. What’s in it?”

“Milk. And I threw a whole-wheat spinach-feta wrap in there.” She holds it out. “It’s healthy! Five fifty, please.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

She glares. “You asked me to pick the ingredients. Did you or didn’t you?”

He pays.

When he’s gone, Adrienne looks at you. “Annoying guy,” she says.

“What did he mean? When he said ‘Is this because of the other night with Jamie?’ ”

“Not much of a story,” she says. “Jamie is kind of sweet. But he needs to find some new friends.”

“Yeah.”

Adrienne picks at what’s left of her banana-chocolate-chip muffin. “Whatever it is that’s bugging you,” she says, “it’s about a guy, right?”

“No. It’s not about a guy. And nothing happened to me.”

“Something happened to you,” she says. “Or some
one
happened to you.”

No, you think. I happened to someone.

COOL

Bridge was four blocks from school when she saw Sherm standing on the corner ahead of her. Just standing there.

“Hey,” she said when she reached him.

“Hey,” Sherm said. “I saw you coming, so I waited.”

“Thanks.”

After two blocks of what Jamie would definitely call awkward silence, Bridge said, “Em isn’t mad, you know. She’s sorry she threw that stuff at you. She feels bad.”

Sherm nodded. “What about you? Are you still mad?”

“Me?
I’m
not mad. I was upset for a second that you didn’t tell me you were going to tell Mr. Ramos. But I get it. You didn’t know for sure that I even knew about the picture.”

This would have been a good time to say that she had actually helped Em take the picture. But she didn’t want to admit that to Sherm, or even think about it.

“Remember your riddle?” Sherm said. “The two brothers and the two doors?”

“Yeah.”

“I had to pick a door. You know? If I hadn’t said anything, that picture would be everywhere by now.”

“I can’t believe Patrick didn’t get suspended,” Bridge said.

“He says he didn’t send it.”

“I know. Someone ‘grabbed his phone.’ ”

“And sent it to David Marcel,” Sherm finished.

“David Marcel got it first?”

“Yeah, and he sent it to at least ten guys right away.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t
he
get suspended?”

Sherm looked surprised. “He did get suspended. You didn’t know?”

“No. You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure David Marcel got suspended because he hates me now. And so do a lot of his friends.”

Sherm had made a sacrifice, really. And then Emily had thrown half her stuff at his head. Poor Sherm. “Wow,” Bridge told him. “You were looking at two crummy doors.”

He laughed. “Yeah. But I just picked the one David Marcel wasn’t standing in front of. Not that hard.”

—

When they got to school, Sherm said, “So, tomorrow morning, same corner?”

Bridge hadn’t expected that. “Okay. What time?”

“Eight?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.”

LITTLE BY LITTLE

Bridge watched as her mom tried to zip her suitcase. She got stuck on a boot heel at the third corner, unzipped the bag, and laid it open on the floor to rearrange her things.

“It’s only three days,” she told Bridge, “but you wouldn’t believe the number of events—we’re playing at the rehearsal dinner, the prewedding cocktail hour, the ceremony, and then—get this—there’s a
high tea
the day after.”

Her first fancy wedding had been a big success, and now she was getting other jobs. This one was a last-minute fill-in for a famous violinist who’d gone down with the flu.

“What’s high tea?” Bridge asked.

“Oh, just a big spread, I think—lots of little sandwiches and pastries. And, you know, tea.”

“Yum.”

“Yeah, yum. Though I’ll have my hands full.” Bridge’s mom tilted her head toward the cello case leaning against the closet mirror.

She knelt and tried to zip the bag again. It still wouldn’t close. She yanked out one of the boots. “Looks like I’ll have to wear these on the plane.”

Bridge smiled.

“Sweetie,” her mom said, feeling for the other boot, “we need to talk.”

Em had warned Bridge. “The moms have been talking,” she said in homeroom. “This is definitely going to come up at home. Feel free to express your shock and disgust at my behavior.”

“About the thing with Em, you mean?” Bridge said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything like that.”

“I just wish she’d talked to her parents about what was going on. You would talk to me, right, Bridge? You’d tell me if you felt that way about someone? If you were thinking of doing something like that?”

“Sure. I’d tell you.”

Her mom stood up. “So…
is
there anything you want to tell me? About anyone, I mean?”

Bridge looked back at her. “Nope.”

“Great.” Her mom smiled. “I mean—”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant.”

“Great.” Bridge saw her mom mentally checking this task off of her to-do list. Then she said, “Is Em okay?”

“She’s okay, yeah.”

Her mom started pulling on a boot. “When I was your age, I went with my friend Marjorie to get my ears pierced—without permission.”

“You did?”

“Yes. But when I got home, Grandma told me that I was under the mistaken impression that my body belonged to me. She said that until I turned eighteen, it actually belonged to her. And she hadn’t given anyone permission to put holes in it.”

“Seriously?”

Stepping into the second boot, Bridge’s mom nodded. “She was
very
serious. She made me take the earrings out and let the holes close up.” She stood up, stamped once to make her dress fall straight, and looked at herself in the mirror. “You think the boots work with this?”

“Definitely.”

Her mom caught Bridge’s eyes in the mirror. “Grandma was wrong, Bridge. She was wrong. My body was mine. Your body is yours.”

“Okay.”

“Especially
your
body, Bridge. You earned it back, little by little. Don’t forget that.”

Then she zipped her suitcase closed.

SHERM

December 10

Dear Nonno Gio,

Last night Dad and I were at the table, just us.

He said, “How are you doing, hon?” And I honestly didn’t know what I was supposed to tell him. I said, “Good. You?” and Dad said, “You know what? I think this whole time I’ve been convinced that Nonno’s coming back. It just seems like a joke, doesn’t it? Or something? And I’ve been waiting.”

And I said, “Yeah.”

Dad told me that you called him at work, to give him your new address in Hoboken. That you asked about me. You told him you’d been trying my cell.

Well, I saw your voice mails and deleted them. Dad didn’t know.

Dad says you still love us. He’s like the perfect poster child for divorce:

Adults are complicated!

Sometimes people change!

But everyone still loves the kids so much!

I nodded at him like I was supposed to. But you
moved
out
. That and your supposed love are two supermagnets that repel each other. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make them touch.

Sherm

P.S. Two months, four days.

NOT LITERALLY

Just before winter vacation, Bridge watched as the letters from the Talentine committee were distributed in homeroom. Emily slid hers into her binder without opening it. Then she turned and smiled at Bridge. It was such a careful smile. Bridge got a terrible feeling.

“Can you believe this? I got dinged!” Em waved her letter in the hall after class. “And I know why.”

“There were so many good singers,” Tab said. “You picked the hardest thing to go for. They said singing was the most competitive—”

“Oh please. That’s not why! It’s because of you-know-what. This stupid school hates me.”

“Nobody hates you,” Bridge said. “Em, they said there aren’t that many spots for seventh graders, remember? You guys will get in next year.”

Tab shrugged her knapsack down from her shoulder so that it dangled from her elbow. “I got in, actually—but it was only because I was, like, the only juggler.”

Em stared at Tab for a second and then said, “You know what? I’m turning into a huge jerk. I didn’t even ask whether you got in. But—this is amazing. Now Bridge and I have a reason to go to the show. We’ll sit in the front row and cheer for you.”

“Actually,” Bridge said, “I have to do Tech Crew stuff—we kind of design the whole show, and then we run the lights and sound and everything.”

“That’s so cool!” Tab said. “I went to the show back when Celeste was in it, and they did this crazy psychedelic ghost-town cowboy theme: rainbows, tumbleweeds, and a gigantic papier-mâché…um, I think it was a horse, but it might have been a unicorn.”

Bridge made a face. “I hope we come up with something better than that.”

“No, it was cool.”

Em looked at them. “Well, then I’ll sit by myself and cheer you both on. And we’ll meet up after. Okay? It’s a plan!” She marched off toward class.

Tab and Bridge watched her go. “Those jerks,” Tab said.

“Who?” Bridge asked.

Tab spun to look at Bridge. “Don’t you get it? They totally banned her. You were there. Her audition was crazy good! Definitely one of the best.”

“So why didn’t you say so? To Emily?”

“I thought it would make her feel even worse. This makes me want to kill someone!”

“You? Kill someone?”

Tab sighed. “Well, not literally. Come on. We have French.”

VALENTINE’S DAY

Why you’re there, at the Bean Bar, wrapping day-old muffins, has nothing to do with a boy. Not exactly.

It started right before Halloween, at Dollar-Eight. The four of you were at the big round booth in the back.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Zoe said. Truth or dare always gets an automatic yes from Vinny.

“Okay,” Vinny said, leaning forward. “I’ll start. Something really easy.” She pointed at Gina. “Who’s your crush?”

“My crush?” Gina looked sick. She has one of those faces that can’t hide anything.

“You’re supposed to ask her truth or dare,” you said. “You didn’t even ask what she wanted.”

Vinny ignored you. “Crush. Spill it. Here and now.” She knocked on the table, gave Gina a friendly smile.

Gina shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

Vinny’s smile changed. “Complicated?” Your head began to ping. You knew that smile. You tried to send Gina a telepathic message:
Just make something up.

But Gina isn’t like that. She smiled back shyly. “Yeah. It’s not that I don’t
want
to tell you. I just literally
can’t.
Can I tell you something else? A different truth?”

Vinny straightened her back, and you saw Zoe do the same. Did she even know how precisely she copied everything Vinny did?

“That’s not how it works,” Vinny said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. Vinny was truly genius at being awful while looking incredibly nice. Part of you had to stand back and almost admire it. “If you refuse to tell the truth,” she said, “you have to do a dare.”

“Oh—right.” Gina looked relieved. “Great. I’ll do the dare.”

“So you’ll definitely do the dare?”

“Sure.”

Vinny tossed her a ChapStick and said, “Okay. Here you go.”

Gina caught it, smiled. “What do I do with this?”

“Eat it. Obviously.”

Gina’s smile caved in. “You’re not serious.”

“It’s not poisonous or anything,” Vinny said reassuringly. “I know someone who ate one, and she was fine.”

“Voluntarily?” Gina asked. Her eyes went to you, then dropped to the ChapStick in her hand.