“RiAnne, you don’t have cellulite. Vanessa says stuff like that when you look really pretty because she knows it undermines your confidence.”
“You’re right. I should’ve told her what I thought of her dress. She should not be wearing horizontal lines on those hips of hers.” She giggles then says, “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“I won’t. Pinky swear,” I say, making the ultimate promise. “I’m going to break up with Sander.”
“Why would you do that? You can’t do any better than Sander.”
I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a backhanded slam.
I sigh and go with it. “I know. I think maybe I just need a break. You’ve dated a ton of guys. I’ve really only dated one. Speaking of which? What happened last night?”
“You know, same as everyone. He took me to the hotel, expected sex, got it, then brought me home early this morning. What about you and Sander? I’m surprised you’re still not getting it on. You’re so lucky. He’s sexy, and he adores you. Everyone will just die if you break up. You’re the perfect couple.”
“Just because we seem like the perfect couple doesn’t mean we are.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure if I’m in love with him.”
“Oh.” She is quiet for a minute. “Can you make sure it’s a friendly breakup? We want to still be able to sit at our lunch table.”
And there you have it. Another example of why I wonder if my friends are real, and if being popular is all it’s cracked up to be.
I throw myself dramatically across my bed and stare out at the ocean. I think about what Brooklyn said last night. His words, You’re very desirable, keep running through my head.
I decide to do it. I call Sander.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’s up?”
“Um, Sander, I think we should talk.”
“Why does it sound like you’re about to break up with me?”
“Because I am thinking about it. You know I adore you, but we’ve dated for so long. I was thinking maybe we should consider taking a break. What do you think?”
“Is there someone else you want to date?”
“I don’t know. I really haven’t dated anyone but you. You’re amazing, and you’ve been the perfect boyfriend. I heard Vanessa hitting on you at the party. Don’t you sometimes want to date other people?”
“No way would I date that skank. I really don’t know why you’re friends with her. Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I got the part.”
“Of Danny!? Sander, ohmigawd, I’m so happy for you!”
“Well, it’s not finalized. They’re still negotiating, but they want me. Honestly, I’m going to be leaving in a few weeks to start working on the choreography and was going to break up with you then. Not because I don’t love you, but I just wanted to be fair.”
“Sander, do you really want to wait until you get married, or am I just not, like, desirable enough?”
“Keatyn Douglas, don’t you dare do that to yourself. You’re gorgeous. The guys all think I’m very lucky. If they catch wind that we broke up, they’ll all be calling. Trust me.”
“They think we’ve had sex.”
“I know. I’m sorry I never set them straight about it. I just wanted to go to high school and be normal. I wanted to live out a movie.”
I laugh out loud. “Ohmigawd, Sander! Me too! You and I think so much alike, it’s crazy. So you’re cool with breaking up?”
“We’re gonna stay friends, right?”
“I hope so.”
“Good. You know what though? I’ve never had a role where I got my heart broken. In Grease, Sandy breaks my heart. Do you mind if I use our breakup as practice? Like I’ll act devastated at school. I’ll be all dreary and full of angst. I’m going to have to dye my hair for the role. Maybe I should do it now. People at school will be shocked. Kinda like when Danny shows up looking like a jock. Only I’ll go the other way. Dark hair, dark leather jacket, maybe a few hoodies. I’ll definitely need new clothes. Wanna go shopping with me later?”
“I’m gonna surf with the guys this morning, but I’ll call you afterward. I need to find a sexy dive bar outfit.”
“Is there such a thing?”
I laugh again. “Damian’s last gig is tonight. You should stop by.”
“I’ll try to. So are you going to tell people, or should I? Will we still sit together at lunch?”
“I don’t know. Will it fit the role?”
“Oh, good point. I should sit somewhere else and wallow. Look broken hearted. Put the hoodie up and earphones in so no one will talk to me. Play the outsider. The jilted man. Can I have one of those big emotional breakdowns by your locker?”
“Sure, why not? Am I supposed to ad lib, or are you gonna script it out?”
“Hmmm. Not sure. This is gonna be fun, I think. I miss acting.”
“I know you do. So, Sander, I hate to do this, but I’m breaking up with you. I will post it on Facebook for the world to see. I hope you understand.”
“But sweetheart, I will die without you. You are my one true love. Now I have nothing. I will sink into the dark blackness of oblivion without you.”
“That might be overkill.”
“I’ll have to work on it. See ya later.”
And just like that. A year and a half.
Done.
I change my Facebook status to single and look out at the waves. Brooklyn and some of the guys are already hitting the surf.
I pull my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, spf my face, throw on a bikini, and look at myself in the mirror.
If today is the start of a new me, I should make a new impression.
I rummage through my drawer and pull out a different bikini.
The skimpiest one I own.
Before I started high school, I told Mom I wanted to look a little more, um, polished, I guess is the word, so she totally pampered me. I got polished, scrubbed, and massaged from head to toe. My hair is naturally a dark blonde, but the salt water and sun make all the light blonde highlights come out, so my long hair just got trimmed. I got lessons on how to apply makeup and how to fix my hair. My braces came off, and my teeth got whitened. I don’t need glasses, but Mom even let me get cool colored contacts, so I can change the color of my eyes from a piercing turquoise blue to a bright emerald green. I usually don’t wear them, though. My eyes are naturally kind of a bright purplish-blue, an exact replica of my dad’s. And, I don’t know, seeing them helps me feel like he’s still kinda with me.
I think about how much I’ve grown in the time I’ve known Brooklyn.
I now stand five foot nine inches tall. I’m tan and in good shape from a combination of surfing, kickboxing workouts with Tommy, dance classes, and soccer practices.
I bought this bikini a few years ago in France. It was the bikini I always pictured myself wearing in the scenes I wrote. I thought that if Brooklyn saw me in this bikini, he’d stop thinking of me as a little girl and see me as the woman I thought I was.
I chuckle to myself because wearing this bikini is a slam to all that Vanessa holds dear. She would have a fit if she knew I was being seen in a two-year-old bikini.
You know, always worrying about what people think of what you’re wearing can be exhausting sometimes.
And, let’s face it, most boys don’t know if you’re in last season’s bikini or not.
My phone dings and dings. I grab it. Read the texts and Facebook notifications.
Vanessa: WTF! Why in the world would you break up with Sander? He’s the fucking PROM KING!! Do you know how hard we’ve worked for this? And you want to throw it all away?
Vanessa: Fine. So yes, I was hitting on him last night, but I was just doing it because I’m your friend. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t the kind of slime ball that would take me up on it. He passed. Oh, and by the way, I’m still sitting at his table even if you aren’t. Like no hard feelings.