Maggie
Shana and I are walking out of school through the main entrance, deep in a heated discussion about the set list for our first
gig—she wants to open with “No, Thank You,” which I think is a horrible idea—when I see Carter. He’s hanging out with Bodhi,
Robbie, and Amir near the big tree. They’re doing what they do: talking loudly, laughing even loudly-er, and radiating the
overly confident, obviously insecure energy of peacocking teenage boys. I knew it was only a matter of time before Carter
found his way back to Bodhi.
It definitely makes it easier to stay away. These first weeks back to school have felt infinitely better than those tragic
days before the holidays. The distraction of Mom’s engagement to Ron turned out to be really helpful, both because it meant
Mom was in the Best Mood of All Time and because it gave me something to bitch about that wasn’t Carter. Plus, Vivian being
home generally makes everything better. So I came into January on good footing, and every time I’ve passed Carter in the hall
has felt slightly less eventful than the time before; I don’t even look over anymore.
It’s impossible not to notice him right now, though. He is King Bonehead, doing over-the-top impressions of teachers and intentionally
bad parkour moves off the tree trunk as he gets huge laughs from the hyenas. He is a funny person, but this obnoxious brand
of comedy has always felt cheap to me.
Shana takes Carter in, I know she does, but she continues with our conversation, subtly shifting our path to the parking lot so we won’t pass as close to him.
“Starting with a ballad is a bomb move,” she says.
“You pull in the audience, make them lean forward to take in our tender melody, then hit ’em hard the next song with some rawk.
Blow their faces off. And blow their minds too. ”
“Yeah, no, I get all that,” I say, fighting to concentrate solely on her. “But I worry an opening like that will just put
everybody to sleep—”
I stop speaking because Carter is waving at me.
At least that’s what it looks like.
“Lindsey!” he says, looking straight at me as he leaps and grabs a tree branch, kicking his legs in random directions. “Right?”
My heart pounds. Fast.
Shana gasps. I’m frozen, my heart the only part of me in motion. It’s thumping like I just finished a race.
Carter grins as he hangs from the branch like he’s the subject of an inspirational cat poster. “Anyway, whoever you are, how’s
it goin’?”
I nod like a bobblehead and mutter a nonsense response: “Uh, yes.”
“Keep walking,” Shana hisses in my ear as she gives my torso a gentle shove. “Just keep walking.”
Carter loses his grip on the branch and falls on his ass, which gets a monster laugh from the hyenas—actually just Robbie
and Amir, Bodhi is looking at his phone—and helps thaw me out enough so I remember how to walk.
Or speed-walk, as the case may be, since Shana is pushing me along like a shopping cart at a Black Friday sale.
“What was that?” Shana asks once we’ve made it safely into her car and are pulling away from the school. “Why is he waving at you? Have you been waving at him?”
“Of course not!” I sputter. “I’ve been avoiding him!”
“Oh Christ. Someone told him about you.”
I think about Bodhi looking at his phone. That twerp. He said he wouldn’t say anything!
“Well,” Shana says, taking the ramp onto Route 51, “he clearly doesn’t know all that much, considering he thought your name
was Lindsey. So you just need to play it cool. Cooler than cool. Ice-cool.”
“You mean ice-cold.”
“Sure, if that phrasing is more helpful for you. Whatever you need to do to avoid falling for him again.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right.
But the freakiest part of Carter waving and shouting at me was how exciting it was.
My heart didn’t just pound; it leaped out of my chest and landed on the pavement, pulsing blood squirts onto my white Nikes.
Minutes later, I’m still not okay. My brain is sideways, my hands are unsteady, and, even if you paid me a hundred dollars,
I wouldn’t be able to focus enough to return to whatever conversation we were having.
The car stops. We’ve pulled into a spot in the Costco parking lot.
“Okay, so I have something,” Shana says.
“Oh boy.”
“No, it’s good. You’ll approve. It’s directly related to you needing to be ice-cool.”
“Ice-cold,” I say.
“Right. So my family’s going skiing this weekend.”
“We hate skiing.”
“That’s right, we do,” Shana agrees. “With a passion. Which is why I convinced them I should stay home.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
“You want us to . . . do band practice at your place?” I ask. “And we can be loud as hell?”
“No. I mean, yes, that too. Good idea. But the reason we are parked here at this moment in time is because I just decided
there will be a party. We need a party.”
“Oh no, Shane. Do we?”
“WE DO. So we are going to stock up on some supplies. In bulk. And we are going to forget about swinging-from-a-tree-branch
boy and live our freaking lives.”
“The October party got so nuts, though.”
Shana gives me a deadpan stare. “Like you know anything about that party. You were making out with tree-branch boy the whole
time.”
The grin appears on my face before I can wipe it away. Carter and I snuck into Shana’s younger brother’s room and pretty much
spent the whole party in there, messing around beneath Adem’s Stranger Things poster. Damn you, make-out memories.
“Sorry I brought that up,” Shana says. “But actually, here’s something else I have for you: Marigold wants to set you up with
this guy she knows.”
“Marigold?”
She’s a weird girl who graduated last year. Shana’s stayed in touch with her much more than I have.
“Why are we trusting Marigold’s judgment? Have you seen the people she dates?”
“I have.” Shana laughs. “But she’s much better at matchmaking for other people than she is for herself. She was the one who
introduced me to Bella!”
“You and Bella lasted two months.”
“Yeah, but that first month was—” Shana nods a few times and smiles. “And that’s what you need, Mags. Doesn’t have to be a long-term fit. Just someone who’s hot enough and interesting enough to sweep you off your
feet for a minute. Take your mind off . . . other folks.”
“I’ll think about it.” I step out of the car as a way to end the conversation.
“He’s apparently super attractive and has his shit together,” Shana says, also out of the car and following me toward the
Costco entrance. “Marigold met him at school.”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “What’d you say his name was again?”
“I didn’t. It’s Chord.”
“Great. I will consider the possibility of being set up with Chord. He sounds like a real catch.” I’m only saying this to
be nice. I can’t imagine being with anyone right now.
“Yay! Marigold says he’s free to come to the party Saturday.”
“What? I thought you just decided to have the party now.”
Shana shrugs and smiles. We cross the threshold of Costco and she makes a beeline toward the frozen appetizer aisle. I should’ve
been on to her instantly. But I know she’s looking out for me. And she’s probably right. This is what I need.
Ice-cold, I think as I watch Shana awkwardly grab a box of 128 mozzarella sticks out of the freezer. Ice-cold.