From What I Remember

I hear Lily and her harpies laugh hysterically.

“Kylie, what the hell are you doing?” Charlie asks. He and Max continue to whack at the ball as if I’m not there.

For the second time today, Max looks at me and rolls his eyes.

I feel naked and ridiculous standing in the middle of the court, the ball whizzing around me.

“Max and I were supposed to meet forty minutes ago,” I say, holding my ground in what is increasingly becoming one of my worst ideas ever.

“Oops, my bad. The game went long. Obviously we’re not going to do it now. So can you get off the court?” Max asks.

“No. I ca

“No, Max wasn’t, but a barn is better than a trailer. Or do you people call them double-wides these days?” Charlie says.

Charlie is referring to the fact that I live in Logan Heights, not exactly the posh part of town. It’s twenty miles outside of La Jolla, but more like worlds away. My family’s shabby little rental house could be shoehorned into Charlie’s guest bathroom. I’m guessing, of course, since I’ve never seen any part of his house and never will.

Charlie’s comment sends me into the stratosphere. I go from angry to apoplectic in a split second, losing my pride, my dignity, and all sense of decorum in the process. Sure, I’ve got a temper and it flares up at inopportune times, resulting in verbal fireworks, but I’ve never gone completely postal. Until now. Maybe it’s graduation jitters or anxiety about my speech. Whatever it is, my fury has come to a rolling boil and just bubbled over onto the court. I can’t control my urge to pummel Charlie. I haul off and kick him in the shin. I swear I can hear Will gasp from outside the court. Charlie grabs his leg and yelps in pain. What a drama queen. It wasn’t that hard, was it? I am embarrassed by my slide into violence, but at least I’ve got their attention.

“What the hell?” Charlie says.

“What is your problem, Kylie?” Max adds.

“You are my problem, Max.”

A few other students have wandered over and are watching the show. I’m turning bright red. But I’m not putting my tail between my legs and backing away now. I’ve already gone too far; might as well go all the way. Right is might. I think. I hope.

“Actually, now is a perfect time for us to talk,” I say, whipping out my notebook. I poise my pen above the page. “You’re here. I’m here. What could be better?”

Max and Will gape at me like I’m some kind of creature from a horror movie.

“So, what’s your favorite book?” I ask Max.

“Kylie, let’s do this later. I’ll be done in half an hour.” He sounds almost conciliatory.

“Screw you, Max. You’re such an asshole. You’ve wasted enough of my time today. We’re doing it now.”

Jesus. Who says this kind of stuff in real life? Me, apparently. I’m not filtering. I’ve gone completely off the edge. I just wish I could have waited until after I delivered my valedictorian speech. I’m going to be standing at the podium, the laughingstock of Freiburg. Will anyone even want to listen to a speech I’ve labored over for months? Too late to worry about that now.

Max’s expression switches from placating to pissed. “You know what, Kylie, screw you. The deal is off. You’re on your own because you’re the only idiot who cares about doing the assignment. I was trying to be nice, but fuck it. And I’m in the middle of a game. So get the hell off the court.”

At this point, Max whips the ball at the wall, missing my head by only a few inches. He’s a very good player, so I have to assume that was on purpose. I’ve lost the battle and the war. I skulk off the court. I’m still livid, but my anger is now mixed with the sour taste of humiliation. I keep my head down and hurry toward the exit, ignoring the peanut gallery.

Will catches up with me outside. He loops his arm through mine. “You had me at ‘Screw you, Max.’ You were brilliant!”

I don’t say anything. I’m too busy beating myself up. Why can’t I just let go for once and kick Murphy’s stupid assignment to the curb? Will can tell I’m in the middle of round five of one of my self-boxing matches. He’s been ringside many times before.

“His ass isn’t what it used to be. Freshman year, it was tight and sweet. He’s getting soft. Doesn’t bode well for middle age,” Will says, trying to cheer me up.

“You know that’s not true.”

“I know. He’s got an amazing ass, not to mention his six-pack abs and those guns—”

“Is this supposed to help?”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“I’m getting worse. That was ridiculous.”

“They deserved it. No one else stands up to them.”

“I hate this place.”

“Me too. But you’re go

I love Will for trying to prop me up. But I worry I’ll be just the same at NYU, or anywhere else I go, for that matter. What if it’s not Freiburg? What if it’s me? What if I just don’t fit in anywhere, like my brother, Jake? Don’t get me wrong: Freiburg sucks and has, rightly, been an endless source of blame for most of my social shortcomings. There’s very little here for me besides Will. But I can’t help wondering if, at a certain point, it’s partly my fault.

“Yeah. Whatever…” I say to Will, my insecurity creeping across my skin like a bad rash.

“Stop it. Do not let these people make you feel less than extraordinary. You are one amazing human. Don’t forget it,” Will insists.

“I don’t know. It’s just, I can’t believe I lost it like that. It was totally mortifying.”

“It was inspiring. You’re my hero.” Will pulls me into a hug. “Wa

“Can’t. Gotta watch Jake,” I say, unhitching myself from Will and heading toward the street.

“‘Loser,’” Will calls to me.

“‘Blow me.’”

“‘Call me later?’” Will finishes the line from Cruel Intentions. He waves and disappears into the quad.

I need to get home. I’m already ru

I am sitting on the toilet, peeing, when I hear someone enter.

“What, Mom? This is, like, the tenth time you’ve called in the past hour.”

It’s Lily. I’m surprised to find her here.

“No. I can’t come home right now. We’re all going to Stokes’s and then out for di

I don’t know what to do. Lily clearly doesn’t know I’m here. But the longer I stay, the more awkward it gets. I don’t want to appear like I’m eavesdropping, but any way you slice it, it’s not going to be good when I suddenly appear. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. I have no interest in Wentworth family drama.

“What’s the big secret? Why can’t you just tell me now?” Lily barks into the phone.

I flush and exit the stall. Lily glares at me. I keep my head down and pretend I haven’t heard a thing.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back,” Lily says, hangs up, and turns her high beams on me. Ugh. I’m not in the mood. I’m worn out from my earlier outburst.