Noel. Jackson. Pretty much all boys.
If I remain in the state of Noboyfriend forever, everything will be okay. Nora will still love me.
"Did you see that note from Archer I put in your mail cubby?" I asked.
Nora groaned. "Baby CHuBS? That's the stupidest name I ever heard."
"I know," I told her. "But Meghan's doing it with me."
"Didn't we just do a bake sale in December?" asked Nora, wiggling her toes.
"Yes, but we need you," coaxed Meghan. "You're the only one who knows how to bake. Plus, we can call ourselves cochairs now. It will look good for college applications."
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"It's hardly baking," snorted Nora. "It's snipping marshmallows and bits of Fruit Roll-Up into shapes."
"But don't you think we could do something better now that I'm in charge?" I said. "I mean, don't you think the student body of Tate Prep could be collectively convinced to eschew cute but disgusting marshmallow confections in favor of true deliciousness?"
"Speak English, Roo," said Meghan.
I splashed her.
"Fine," said Nora. "You talked me into it with your ridiculous vocabulary."
"Spankin'," I said. "See, Meghan? Nora appreciates me."
"You promise no marshmallows?" Nora asked. "I promise. Deliciousness only."
"All right, then."
Meghan changed the subject. "Nora, tell us all about the whole Kim-Jackson breakup thing," she said, leaning forward.
I held my breath, waiting to hear what Nora would say.
"Kim's shattered." Nora took a sip of her ginger ale.
"Really? What did Jackson do?" I asked, trying to sound like it didn't matter to me, he'd never been my boyfriend.
Nora heaved herself onto the edge of the hot tub. "I can't get into the details," she said, and sighed. "I promised her I wouldn't. She doesn't want everyone knowing all about it."
"Oh."
My intense curiosity must have showed on my face,
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because Nora added: "It's not that I don't trust you guys, it's just-it's not my secret. It's Kim's."
I ached to know. After seeing them holding hands in the hallway. After watching him stroke her hair the way he used to stroke mine. After feeling like a blade was going through my chest every time I saw them together, for so many months-I almost felt I deserved to know what had happened.
"All you really need to know is, she's better off without him," Nora continued. "He made her feel insecure all the time. Like something else was always more important than she was."
I remembered that feeling. I used to dread being invited to parties because if I went, I'd be miserable while Jackson chatted in a dark corner with some girl from another school-but if I didn't go, it seemed like maybe he'd end up doing something more in that dark corner, and then I'd hate myself for even thinking such a thing and feel like I must be insane possessive untrusting jealous girl. It was a cycle.
But I always figured Kim was different. Jackson left me for her because she was the one he loved.
"She was so sure he was 'the one,' " I couldn't help saying.
"Well, he's turned out not to be," said Nora. "He broke up with her at school. Can you believe it? And then he told her, 'No hard feelings.' "
"What did she say to that?" Meghan asked.
"She said, 'You're breaking up with me. I'm allowed to have hard feelings, you fuckhead.' "
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Meghan laughed.
Nora plunged back into the tub. When her head came back up, she said, "That's it, we have to change the subject now."
Meghan started talking about her ex-boyfriend Bick, who was now at Harvard smoking pot and being pretentious, and I appreciated Nora's loyalty, so I didn't ask anything else about Jackson and Kim. But I couldn't concentrate on the conversation.
One part of me felt sympathy. Poor Kim. Even though Jackson had chosen her over me, still she was someone I used to love, and I felt sorry for her, knowing she was shattered.
One part of me felt shock. Because the idea that Jackson had made Kim feel insecure just like he'd made me feel insecure-I couldn't quite believe it. He had given her a cashmere sweater. He had begged her forgiveness when she came back from Tokyo. He had written her romantic letters. I knew these things were true, and yet... she had felt just like I had. Like she hadn't really mattered to him.
Then one tiny, shameful part of me thought: He doesn't love her. He never loved her. Yay.
"I can't believe she called him a fuckhead," I finally said.
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6.
I Am a Reluctant Bodyguard
Here's a true confession, I skipped Chemistry first day back for a reason. A reason involving Ariel Olivieri. On the rebound from her breakup with Shiv. A reason involving a chance encounter at Bailey/Coy Books the last day of winter break.
Her giving me a ride home in the rain.
And physical contact that now I shudder to recall.
My advance spies tell me AO may be up for a repeat.
No repeat is going to be happening.
I am filled with remorse and a general sense of yuckiness
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at the memory of what I did under the influence of an atmospheric rainstorm, random hormones and a general sense of being alone on the planet.
I could not face Chem first day back. But I also can't ditch class for the rest of the term without incurring the wrath of Fleischman, so I have a proposition for you. I need your protection from the undesired advances of AO.
I wish to employ your services as bodyguard, and will pay you gladly in Fruit Roll-lips.
I leave this note unsigned, as it is highly incriminating. I suggest you eat it when the contents have been memorized.
--written in Noel's scribble on yellow legal paper, folded in quarters, with the word "Top-secret" across the outside. in all the years we've been at school together, Ariel Olivieri's mail cubby has always been directly next to mine-Ruby Oliver. More than one painful situation has occurred due to this proximity. Someone with my history knows better than to leave such an explosive note in a public mail cubby-not even taking into account it's being a public mail cubby directly next to the mail cubby of the person being discussed in the note-but Noel was untraumatized by the dramas of the Tate Universe and therefore fairly stupid in this regard.
I ripped the note into tiny shreds and flushed the pieces down the toilet, thinking how Noel was the third guy who had liked me and then liked Ariel instead. Sure, one was in
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fourth grade and one was freshman year. But still. Three guys.1
Were Ariel and I similar? Aside from being average height with a muscular build and brown hair--no. Ariel was pretty in a warm, dimpled, blue-jean way, whereas on a good day I was pretty in a sharp, eyeglasses, fishnet-stocking way. As for social status, she was golden and I was a roly-poly; and as for personality, she was a vacant shell decorated with charming mannerisms and occasional mild bitchiness, while I was-I don't know what I was.
Neurotic.
Maybe I ought to highlight my hair, I thought. Maybe I should wear jeans that cling to my butt. Maybe if I didn't come to school in torn fishnets and clunky Mary Janes people wouldn't always be choosing Ariel over me.2
Ag. No.
Thoughts like this are exactly why I'm too neurotic to have a boyfriend.
Anyway, Noel had kissed Ariel. At the very least. There had been "physical contact." And even though he said he shuddered to recall it and there would be no
***
1 For the record, the two boys were Hutch (fourth grade) and Shiv (freshman year).
Yes, Hutch. Certified retro-metal roly-poly and my dad's gardening assistant.
No, I don't want to talk about it.
2 Movies in which a makeover facilitates love: Grease; Pretty Woman; Sabrina (both versions); Working Girl; Clueless; The Breakfast Club; My Fair Lady; She's All That; The Mirror Has Two Faces; Cinderella; Now, Voyager; Strictly Ballroom; Miss Congeniality; Moonstruck; The Princess Diaries; Never Been Kissed.