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“So that’s why you want to spend Friday nights with her, too?” Dad asked. “Because she doesn’t get in your way as much as I do?”
“No!” I protested. “It’s just that … this is important to me. You don’t understand.”
“I don’t,” he said. “Explain it to me.”
He looked at me closely, and I thought for a moment about telling him everything. What Start was, why I needed it. After all, he was on national tour with his band when he was just two years older than me. Maybe he would be cool with it.
But what if he wasn’t?
I shook my head. “I can’t explain it to you.”
Dad kicked his guitar, and I flinched at the sudden atonal squawk as it hit the ground. “You know what, Elise?” he said. “Do what you want.”
I stood still, hardly breathing.
“You want to spend every single night at your mother’s house? Fine. I’ll be here if you ever decide that you need me.”
He lunged to pick up his guitar and lifted it over his shoulder like he was about to smash it into something. I clapped my hand to my mouth. Then slowly, painfully, he laid the guitar down on the armchair and walked out of the room. I heard his footsteps hard on the stairs to the basement. And a minute later I heard the sound, unmistakable to anyone who has heard it before, of a softball bat whacking a futon.
* * *
“Look, if you want to go to Start tonight, you should go,” Vicky said over the phone the following Thursday evening.
I lay down on my bed, my cell phone pressed to my ear, and glanced at the clock on my bedside table. Nine o’clock.
“I think I want to stay home,” I said.
“If you want to, sure.” I heard the sound of spritzing through the phone, like Vicky was putting on hair spray or perfume. “But you shouldn’t not come tonight just because of Pippa. You’re the DJ. You do what you want.”
“Does she want me there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well, whenever she’s mentioned you over the past week, it’s been as ‘that slag,’ so I’m thinking probably not.”
“What’s a slag?”
“I asked her that,” Vicky said. “It’s British for slut.”
“How am I a slag? Char is the first and only guy who I have ever…” Kissed. Seen naked. Slept in a bed with. “Anything,” I finished.
“I don’t think she means it literally,” Vicky reassured me. “And for whatever it’s worth, I’m on your side. They weren’t together. Pippa can’t call dibs on every guy who she thinks is hot, because that would be every guy. Except for the Dirty Curtains. She thinks Dave looks like a caveman, and not in an ‘I will protect your young’ way. And Harry isn’t ‘man enough’ for her. You know, because he’s not actually a legal adult.”
“Oh, so speaking of the Dirty Curtains,” I said, “I have a proposal.”
“Shoot.”
“You know how I get to DJ Friday nights now?”
“I’m so excited,” Vicky replied. “Goddammit, I am so excited. Glendale’s hottest DJ. Do I or do I not keep saying that?”
“Well, Glendale’s hottest DJ wants the Dirty Curtains to play a set at her first-ever gig next Friday.”
There was silence for a moment.
“What do you say?” I asked.
Vicky let out an earsplitting shriek. “I say yes!” she squealed. “Harry and Dave also say yes, or they will once I tell them, since they do basically everything I say. Elise, this is awesome. I can’t believe you would share your big night with us.”
“There’s no one I would rather share it with,” I told her.
“You have to come tonight, then,” Vicky said. “So we can celebrate together our impending fame. Honestly, Elise, don’t worry about Pippa. You need to understand, the past few weeks have been hard on her.” Vicky’s voice grew quieter. “Pippa likes being in the action. Like the sun, with everyone revolving around her. When she was in Manchester, I think she felt like she was completely in the dark, closed off from her own solar system. So to come back here and discover that all of us kept orbiting without her … well, she’s not happy. It isn’t about you.”
“Isn’t she in the room with you?” I asked. “Aren’t you two getting ready together?”
“I locked myself in the bathroom.” I heard the sound of a toilet flushing. “See?”
I sighed. “I don’t want her to hate me. Enough people already hate me.”
“I don’t know if this matters, but I want you to come tonight.”
I pulled my quilt over my head.
“This will all resolve itself on the dance floor,” Vicky told me.
“Oh, really?” I said. “How’s that going to work?”
“How could anyone hate anyone when we’re all out there together, moving to the same song? How can we not be united? Come out tonight and join in—it’ll be good for you. Oh, and wear that top you got from Calendar Girls. The lacy one.”
“It makes me look like a snowflake,” I mumbled.
“Just trust me!” Vicky chirped. Then she hung up the phone.
I sat for a moment under the fortress of my quilt. Tiny flecks of light peeked through the stitches. I could just live the rest of my life under here. I could pay Neil to bring me food three times a day.
I groaned and threw the blanket off my head. Unfortunately I hadn’t thought to make feeding time arrangements before hiding in my bed, and now I was hungry.
Before I went to forage for a snack, I glanced at my computer to see what Fake Elise was up to right now. I hadn’t checked in on her since right after coming home from school this afternoon.
June 10: nobody likes me. sometimes i think people like me, i pretend that i have real friends, but i know i’m just kidding myself. why would they really like me? why would anyone ever really like me??? whenever someone is nice to me i know it’s just because they’re taking pity on me. xoxo elise dembowski
I looked in the mirror on the back of my door. I stuck my fingers in the corners of my mouth and pulled my face into a hideous grimace. Then I practiced some affirmations.
Lots of people really like you!
For example … your mom!
Alex!
Neil!
People who gave birth to you or who still have most of their baby teeth totally like you!
Sure, the only thing your dad said to you during the entire time you were at his house last night and this morning was, “Well, I’ll see you again one week from now, since that’s what you want.” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. He’s just mad at you. And he will get over it, if only because he is your legal guardian!
Vicky likes you! She is not just taking pity on you. Really. Her kindness to you is genuine.
How do you know this?
Because you’re awesome at reading a crowd!
Char likes you! Okay, he kind of ignored you at Start last week, and okay, you haven’t heard from him since then. But this situation with Pippa is delicate. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Who does? You don’t want to hurt Pippa either. Why would he have taught you to DJ if he didn’t like you? Why would he kiss you? Because he likes you!
You are a likable girl, Elise Dembowski!
Affirmations complete, I headed toward the kitchen to make myself a hot chocolate. On my way back, I noticed my mother sitting on the couch in the sunroom. Alex was with her, which surprised me. Neil’s weeknight bedtime is 8:15 and Alex’s is 8:35, so the fact that it was past nine and Alex was still awake was definitely not fair.
“What’s up?” I asked them.
“We’re just admiring the poetry castle,” Mom answered. She took a sip of her tea and gestured at Alex’s creation.
I sat down on Alex’s other side, and the three of us stared contemplatively at the castle.
It was massive. I had no idea how Mom and Steve pla