242
the Internet? No soaked raw peanuts, no banana-avocado pudding?"
Surprisingly, she said okay. Salad was acceptable, so long as the dressing was entirely raw. So Hutch stayed for dinner now and then, and after eating salad we'd watch documentaries and do our French homework at the same time.
One day I went for ice cream during a free period with Varsha from swim team. I was surprised she invited me. She's a sporty girl, plays soccer in the spring, while until this year I always did lacrosse. I've never been in her circle even though we did November Week together. She and Spencer were getting into Varsha's BMW. I was heading through the parking lot to get my sweater out of Meghan's Jeep and they waved me over.
"Ruby!" Varsha said when I stuck my head in her window. "Do you like ice cream?"
"Do pigs fly?"
It was a joke, but they didn't get it. "They have sorbet if you don't eat dairy," Spencer said.
"We're going to Mix in the U District," Varsha explained. "You in?"
"Sure," I said, opening the rear door and folding myself into the seat. I was trying to hide my surprise, so I added: "With Baby CHuBS over, now I'm having trouble keeping my sugar intake up, so I appreciate the help."
I got espresso ice cream with graham crackers mixed in. Varsha got cheesecake with strawberries, and Spencer chocolate with smashed peanut-butter cups. We had to eat
243
in the car on the way back to school so we wouldn't miss class, but it was some serious deliciousness anyway.
As the lowest-status person, I was in the backseat as Varsha sped down the highway licking her ice cream cone and blasting what I think was Hillary Duff. I stared out the back window of the car at Mount Rainier looming above the city and wondered: If I wasn't going to try to reconcile with Nora or Noel, why didn't I make new friends? True, a ridiculous number of people at Tate Prep were Future Doctors of America who didn't much interest me, but had I put any effort into hanging out with them?
Take Varsha. She'd stood up for me once earlier in the year. She'd delivered her baked goods to Baby CHuBS. She swam a wicked butterfly and had no shame about singing Hillary Duff lyrics at the top of her lungs. Maybe she wasn't the wittiest, most ironic person. Maybe she didn't always laugh at my jokes. She wanted to be a pediatrician and thought vintage clothes were dirty. Still, she was smart and nice, she didn't seem to view me as a roly-poly slut, and if I didn't like having my school social life limited to Finn&Meghan, couldn't I do something about it?
"You guys!" I yelled, over the sound of the CD.
"Yah?"
"You want to go to the B&O tomorrow after school?"
"What's the B&O?" asked Varsha.
It seemed incredible to me that she'd never been to the B&O. I'd been there every week for years. "I'll say one thing to you," I shouted. "Free white chocolate cake. At least on the days Finn Murphy works there."
244
"I'm in," said Varsha. "Double in," said Spencer.
So we went. Finn was there behind the counter and he gave us free day-old cake. (Meghan was at her shrink.) Sitting with Varsha and Spencer was a little awkward, and it made me remember how fun it had been sitting with Kim and Cricket and Nora in the B&O so many days freshman and sophomore year--but we sugared ourselves up and did our homework and talked about swim-team stuff and the hotness of Mr. Wallace.
It wasn't great.
But I was glad I'd asked them.
***
One Saturday morning in early June, I stepped outside with Polka-dot and there was a shoe box on our deck. A Converse shoe box. Taped to the top was an index card with my name on it. I pulled the card off and flipped it over. There was the note:
They came out kinda flat, and
They came out kinda greasy.
I made them really, really late,
And honestly-they 're not that great.
But:
They took me several hours,
There's a burn across my thumb,
Then I had to clean the kitchen,
Now I want to give you some.
245
The handwriting was Noel's.
Polka-dot was going crazy with the box, nosing it and pawing it, and finally trying to eat it, cardboard and all. I took it away from him and peeked inside. Eight kinda flat, kinda greasy, pains au chocolat.
Like he had promised to make for the bake sale but never did.
Shoved inside and stained with butter was a sheet of yellow legal paper folded in quarters. I took it out and gave Polka-dot a pastry to stop his whining. Then I tucked the box inside the front door and walked the path along the lake with the dog while I read.
Roo:
You said to me once that you were not always a good friend, lam not always a good friend either.
I couldn't really deal with Ariel Olivieri and how I made out with her when I didn't want to. So that meant I couldn't deal with you.
I couldn't really deal with the questions people were asking me about what happened in the art studio, bringing up that stupid boyfriend list from sophomore year. And that meant I couldn't deal with you.
I have never been able to deal with Jackson Clarke and how he's always been taller and better-looking and cooler than me. So that meant I couldn't deal with you.
And I couldn't really deal with Nora and how she wanted me to be her boyfriend when I wasn't interested. And that meant I couldn't deal with you.
246
So I acted like everything was your fault. And I didn't deal with you.
Only the thing is: I want to deal with you. I meant what I said in the art studio.
I still mean it. I told Nora how I feel, too, which was hellishly awkward.
Anyway, I don't expect you to understand, since it took me so long to tell you. Way longer than it should have.
But I hope you will understand anyway. Here are the pastries I promised. Noel
I walked along the lake, holding the note in my hand and crying. Crying because someone had come to me rather than me going to him.
Crying because the someone was Noel. Crying because I didn't have Rabbit Fever anymore, I just wanted Noel and nobody else.
Crying because even with Hutch and Varsha and Spencer and Finn&Meghan, even with Robespierre and Polka-dot, even with Doctor Z, even with reminding myself that I did have treasure, and the treasure was all around me-I had felt alone for a long time.
Crying, even, because I knew Noel and I wouldn't ride off into the sunset. I could pretend this was a happy ending-but it wasn't the end and things wouldn't be easy. Noel and I would misunderstand each other. People would talk about us. And Nora might not ever stop being
247
angry. Life isn't like the movies, and it can never be real and uncomplicated at the same time.
Polka-dot, who was off his leash, came running back to me and looked into my wet face with his huge eyes. He licked my hand, then trotted away for a moment and returned with a slimy stick. I threw it for him for half an hour, just absorbing the fact that Noel had made me pastries and written that note.
Absorbing the fact that sometimes, people do cut you slack and forgive you and want you anyway. Sometimes they do.
And when they do, even if it's not a happy ending-it is delicious.
248
[Blank Page]
249
acknowledgments
I am greatly in debt to my editor, Beverly Horowitz, and my agent, Elizabeth Kaplan, as well as the people around them who support my books so wonderfully, including Adrienne Waintraub, Tracy Lerner, Chip Gibson, Lisa Nadel, Lisa McClatchy, Rebecca Gudelis, Melissa Sarver and Kathleen Dunn.