Outcast (15 page)

Becca met with Bay a few more times. On our final day at the beach, they disappeared for forty-five minutes, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my bikini. I wished I had the courage to talk to guys I saw there. Maybe if I was more like Becca, I wouldn’t have such a hard time with
Chad
. Foolish thoughts.
Chad
—already rejected by me once—would never want to risk being jilted again. I should have grabbed him when I had the chance. Grace was happy with Henry; she no longer cared. I sacrificed something really good for her when I never had to. Now it was too late.

Becca, Bay-less, glided across the sand toward me. When she reached our square of the beach, she didn’t even sit down. She picked up her towel and bag and was ready to leave.

“Where are you going?” It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. Normally, we didn’t leave until four.

“Home.” She hovered over me, her neck bruised crimson with hickeys.

I picked up my belongings, ready to follow her.

“You better get comfortable with turtlenecks because Mom’s going to kill you.”

Her hand flew to her throat, and she seemed to blush. I took my necklace off and extended it to her.

She took it and put it on.

“Thanks.” I didn’t know if she referred to the necklace or the confidentiality. Either way, it was time for her to reciprocate.

Home. I needed to ask Becca how to win
Chad
back. As we unpacked and organized our clothing and souvenirs—shells, cheap wooden lighthouses, scores of postcards that would never be mailed to anyone—the phone rang.

“Noelle, it’s Aunt P. How was
Florida
?” Resentment tinged her voice.

“Good.”

“How are your grandparents?” The animosity really started to come through now.

“Fine, I guess.” I half listened to her because I noticed Becca moving my journal and my Miles Davis CDs around.

“Hey! Those are mine,” I rudely intercut between the phone conversation and the events inside the house.

“This a bad time?”

“Kind of. We just got home.” I turned the corner so my mother wouldn’t notice me talking on the telephone.

“So you wanted some advice. Remember?”

“Who is it, Noelle?” My mother’s voice flew through the air like a Chinese star.

“No one.”

“Have you thought about it?” Aunt P pushed. She was so out of the loop on things. As far as I was concerned, she couldn’t teach me anything. What did she know anyway? It wasn’t like Doctor Doug was married to her.

“I don’t really need help anymore.”

“Oh? Did you find a way to get that boy on your own?” She hurled a dagger of sarcasm at me.  

“Becca’s going to help me.” I stabbed her back with my answer.

“I see. You think she can?”

I paused for awhile, considering her question. I didn’t know if Becca could help me, but she certainly knew what she was doing in
Florida
. She impressed me more than Aunt P did.

“I have to go. My mom’s calling again.”

I hated to hang up on her so abruptly, but I felt pangs of disgust toward her. I guess I still hadn’t worked past the whole Doctor Doug thing.

It was advice that I wanted from Becca, a small piece of her expertise. I told her about
Chad
, relaying the scenario detail by detail, from my need to save Grace’s feelings to the fact that
Chad
was dating someone else as a result of my rejection.

“So what advice do you need?” Becca sat on her bed cross-legged, staring at me like the Buddha.

“How do I get him back?”

“I thought you said he had a girlfriend.”

“He does. How do I break them up?”

“Noelle!” 

“What?”

Becca jutted her chin at me from her enlightened stance. “You don’t break couples up.”

“It’s not like they’re married.” I crossed my arms stubbornly.

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe they’re meant to be together. Maybe the fact that you turned him down happened for a reason. For all you know, they could be in love. You may screw something up that should be left alone. Besides, it’s not cool to be a home wrecker.”

I was stunned. When did Becca find a moral conscience? After all I did to help her, this is what I received in return? A lecture?

“I thought you were going to help me.”

“I am helping you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe in that.”

“But it’s okay for you to sneak around behind Kevin’s back. I’m sure he’d be interested in knowing how much time you spent with Bay.”

She swung her legs off the bed, assuming a defensive stance.

“All right. You want advice? Call him. Find out if he’s still interested. If he’s happy with the other girl, then you know he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. And for the record, you rejected him. Guys don’t take too kindly to that.”

Had she been delving into the self-help books? Watching Oprah? I wanted tangible advice. Advice that I could use to gain instant results.
Call him and find out
is not what I was looking for. But I took what she gave to me. She refused to offer anything else.

I sat by the phone, picking it up every few minutes. After the first five numbers, I hung up. I wasn’t even gutsy enough to let it ring. I wanted to call him, but maybe he and Trina were in love now. Stranger things had been known to happen.

Maybe if I knew what I planned to say to him, it would be easier. I pulled out Aunt P’s journal and scribbled in it. I imagined dialogue between
Chad
and me, but my thoughts quickly turned to Trina and how much I truly disliked her. My entry became an ode to my hatred for her. I penned evil thoughts about rubbing her in fish parts and throwing her in a room with a thousand rabid cats; about force-feeding a bucketful of earthworms to her, freshly pulled from the rain-drenched ground, the smell of the moistened dirt emanating from their slimy bodies. Pretty soon I would fill my entire journal with vengeful thoughts toward Trina. But that would never change anything. She would still remain happy and in the arms of
Chad
, and I would be alone with my journal. I had to
do
something.

Over the summer, Grace was totally occupied with Henry. The date I thought would only last through the Spring Fling turned into an actual relationship. Grace relished having a boyfriend. She told me every little thing that happened between them:

“Henry told me I have nice fingernails.”

“Henry held my hand when we went to the movies.”

“Henry says I have the neatest handwriting he’s ever seen.”

Henry, Henry, Henry. It’s all I ever heard from her. It wasn’t exactly romance to me, but it certainly was to Grace. She wanted to share her happiness. It was depressing. I didn’t have anyone. It seemed like everyone I knew had somebody. Everyone but me.

When Grace finally finished filling me in on all the details I missed while I was away in
Florida
, she immediately moved to the next hottest topic on her agenda.

“Mike’s been asking about you.”

“You said you’d clear things up with him.” Anxiety settled into my voice.

“I thought you were kidding.”

“No.”

She manipulated the whole situation with Mike, wanting me to have a boyfriend at the same time she did. That would have been fine if the guy was someone I was actually interested in, but not when it was Mike.

“Maybe—”

“No.” I didn’t give her an opportunity to finish. “I’d rather be alone.”

I tried again. I progressed to dialing the entire number and letting it ring. A woman answered a couple of times—probably his mother—but I always hung up. I wished I hadn’t burned my bridges with Aunt P. I definitely needed better advice than
call and find out
.

Henry went to
Flagstaff
for a weekend in July with his family, so Grace and I went to Big Surf Waterpark in
Tempe
. It was the closest thing to a beach that the desert had to offer. I wore the forbidden bikini under my shorts and T-shirt and headed to Grace’s house. We planned to take the bus. We waited under the scorching sun, sweat dripping from our pores like melting candle wax.

A red Honda spun around the corner, then made a U-turn in front of us. It stopped across the street, and the tinted window rolled down. Jake craned his neck out of the driver’s side and whistled.

“Where you two headed?”

Grace pranced to the idling car. “Big Surf.”

My heart pounded. Then I spotted Mike observing me from his position in the passenger’s seat. I took a sudden and intense interest in the advertisement plastered against the bus stop side paneling.

“Jake’s giving us a ride.”

I remained motionless.

“Come on, Noelle.” Mike tried to entice me over.

I picked up my beach bag, dragged myself over, and crawled in. The smell of cigarettes and aftershave wafted from the Honda’s interior like incense from a burning wick. Jake looked good, and being near him made my palms sweat. I pretended he was someone other than who he really was: the troll in the picture book of
The Three Billy Goats Gruff
, the man who works in the pharmacy at the Walgreens who has a nose hair problem, or the news anchor on Channel 10 who looks like his face and hair are made of plastic. It made the ride with him easier if I believed he was someone else.

Mike grinned at me as though we shared a secret that no one else knew.

“How are you, Noelle?” The sound of Jake’s voice sucked me in like an undercurrent.

“Okay.” I swallowed hard.

Grace chattered nonstop. I watched Jake’s eyes in the rear-view mirror as he studied the line of traffic out the back window. They brushed across me briefly then returned to the road ahead. I just happened to be in his line of vision like he happened to be in mine.

I thought the two of them were going to drop us off at Big Surf then head their own way. They didn’t. Mike coerced Jake into going with us.

As we swung toward their apartment so they could pick up their beach things, we passed a broken-down car along the shoulder. A lone woman crouched by the tire, sweating at the road side.

“Maybe we should stop and help,” I said, my eyes following the desperate woman and her vehicle.

“Right,” Jake said. “It’s like 110 degrees outside. Besides, I’m done playing the Good Samaritan.”

“Someone else will come and help her,” Grace said, touching my arm as if that made up for it all.

What if Grace had thought the same of me when she found me cornered by Jerry Searfus? Would someone else have come along for me? Or would my life be markedly different because of her indifference?

“Besides,” Grace continued, “I’m anxious to get to the beach. Aren’t you?”

I definitely wasn’t. What was supposed to be a relaxing day catching up with my best friend turned into one of frazzled nerves, the kind you get when you have to go to the dentist’s office for a root canal. Plus, I felt unsettled. This was not the same Grace I once knew, completely oblivious to everyone’s feelings but her own. I studied her and wondered where that person was.

When we arrived, we marked a spot for ourselves on the man-made beach, and the three of them quickly stripped down to their bathing suits. Grace’s was a conservative tankini. I didn’t know what I was thinking by putting on the bikini Becca bought for me. I was reluctant to take my clothes off. It was one thing to wear it in front of complete strangers, but it was totally different to wear it in front of Mike and Jake. The last thing I needed was to have my body scrutinized by either of them.

“We’ll be back. We’re going to rent boogie boards.”

I watched Jake, tan and muscular in his trunks and no shirt, head with Mike toward the cabanas.

The water park was moderately crowded. Heads bobbed in and out of the waves. Everyone awaited the next big swell.

“Aren’t you going to undress?” Grace questioned me.

The word made me cringe.
Undress
encompassed, “Why don’t you
undress
? The doctor will be in to see you in a moment,” or, “I think I’ll
undress
now and take a shower.” The director tells the actor to
undress
before she does her nude scene.
Undress
means “get naked,” which is how I felt once I took off my shorts and T-shirt.

“Where did you get that bathing suit?” Her declaration made me feel even more self-conscious, if that was possible.

“
Florida
. Becca bought it for me. Do you think it’s too … slutty?”