Chapter Five October 21
Chapter Five
Before high school, Friday nights meant the start of a hibernation cycle.
I’d come home from school, change into comfortable clothes, tackle homework right away, and then settle in for a couple of nights of gaming, movies, writing, and/or whatever special interest was occupying my mind at the time.
Of course there were also the familial obligations.
Meals together. Sometimes church on Sundays.
Occasionally being dragged to some Arab person’s home or party.
But now that I’m in ninth grade and have a best friend, my Friday nights belong to Andie.
And tonight, she’s asked me to tag along to the movies with her and Dean.
There’s just the small formality of asking my parents for their permission. Ever since Georgie’s pregnancy, I try not to ask for too much, but it always feels like there’s something I need or want from them.
“So what time is Dean the teenage dream meeting you?” I ask from my desk, where I’ve gotten a head start on my homework. Andie is lying on my bed, scrolling on her phone. I put my pencil down and let a breath out. “Sorry,” I say, turning to look at her. “That came out rude.”
She sits up and smiles. “Don’t apologize. It was funny. Dean is meeting both of us,” she says, emphasizing the last three words, “around seven.”
“I guess I should ask my parents,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says, like Duh but kinder, and with a twinkle in her eye.
“How are things going with you and Dean?” I close my textbook and then squeeze in next to Andie, who makes room for me on the bed.
She stretches her arm out and takes a selfie of us. Her face, full and bright, contrasts sharply with my sad eyes and still expression. “We’re just having fun,” she says.
“Do your parents know about him?” I grab her phone, grimacing at the sight of myself before deleting the photo.
“I told my mom that I’m talking to a guy from the retreat. And she knows we’re meeting up with him tonight.”
“So they’re okay with you having a boyfriend?”
“Technically I’m supposed to wait until I’m fifteen, but my parents are realists. They know that I’m going to do what I’m going to do, so they’d rather I just be smart about things and not lie.”
“Can’t relate,” I say, almost to myself.
I give Andie her phone back and she takes a new series of photos, with only my shoulder making it into the frame of these ones.
It sometimes feels like everyone else is on a conveyor belt that is progressing steadily, hitting the easy-to-reach markers, while I’m off to the side maneuvering past boulders and other unexpected obstacles, trying and just barely managing to keep up with the pack.
I wish I could return to being the kid who didn’t care about being on par with my peers or falling in love, but lately it’s all I can think about.
To the point where I wonder if I’m even normal.
I share so much with Andie, but part of me is afraid to admit to her how often John crosses my mind.
Because I know what she’ll say: “You’ve had two conversations with the guy.
You’re reading too much into it.” “He has a girlfriend.” “He was just being nice.” “Pitch closer to home.” Okay, maybe that last one was my own inner critic.
The door to the garage closes with a thud and I sit up. “My dad’s home.”
“Do you want me to wait here while you ask?”
“Yes. Who knows what kind of mood he’s in.” I swallow before clenching my jaw. “If you want to go alone with Dean, I really don’t mind staying home.”
Andie props herself on her elbows and playfully scowls at me. “You’re not getting rid of me, Lennon. So stop trying.”
Andie knows I’m autistic. And not only that, after I told her, she read books and watched videos about autistic people.
She’s not afraid to call out my self-sabotaging ways.
Outside of my parents and sister, no one else has ever been so determined to break down my walls.
And yet I still can’t shake the fear that I’m going to lose her one day.
I know that’s part of why I push her away, so that I don’t let myself get too close.
I’ve seen what happens when I put too much trust in others.
I go all in, and then one day, when they tire of me or get upset at something I did or said, they walk away.
No conversations. No fights. No goodbyes.
Just silence that feels like a slow death.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I say.
I close my bedroom door behind me as I leave and race down the steps. Mom’s in the kitchen cooking and Dad’s sitting at the island, cupping the open beer bottle next to him. I greet my father with a kiss on his cheek, and he wraps one arm around my waist, squeezing me closer.
“Yalla, dinner will be ready soon. Set the table,” Mom says in Arabic without even looking up from the stove.
“Can I go out tonight?” I blurt.
“Out where?” Dad asks, releasing me from his embrace.
Mom shoots me a you shouldn’t have asked that look, but I don’t care. I’ve been in high school for almost two months, and I’ve had next to no social life outside of Andie coming over.
“To the movies. With Andie.”
“I don’t like this girl,” Mom says in Arabic. “She’s silly and loud. Don’t her parents ever wonder where she is? Always here and there.”
“You wanted me to make friends, and now that I have one, you don’t like her?” I reply in Arabic, for fear that Andie might hear us.
Mom clicks her tongue like I said the wrong thing. With Mom, I always seem to say the wrong thing.
“Let her go,” Dad says, taking a sip of his beer.
“But what about dinner? I made kibbeh,” Mom says.
“We’ll eat first and then go,” I respond. “Andie knows how to use the bus, so you don’t have to worry about driving us there.”
“Bus? You think we’d let you use the bus?” Mom’s eyes are wide like saucers at the very idea of taking public transportation.
“I’ll take her and pick her up,” Georgie says as she enters the kitchen, wearing her lavender sweats. She’s somehow even more beautiful since becoming pregnant. She’s still not showing. My stomach is bigger than hers. “I have some errands to run anyway.”
“Errands.” Dad scoffs. “You mean seeing Zach?”
“No. I mean errands.” I can tell Georgie is biting her tongue. We’re all learning that not every battle is worth fighting.
“Can I go?” I look to Mom for her approval. I already have Dad’s. And a ride.
“Will there be boys there?” Mom asks.
“Lennon doesn’t even like boys yet,” Dad says, before taking another sip of his beer.
I choose not to reply. That way I won’t have to lie.
After Mom finally agrees, I run upstairs to tell Andie the good news.
We wolf down dinner with the rest of the family and then return to my room to get ready.
Which for me means running a brush through my hair and packing my portable phone charger, small notebook, pen, and wallet.
Andie changes into a different outfit and puts on mascara and a fresh coat of lip gloss.
“Want to borrow some makeup?” Andie asks.
“If I look like I’m trying too hard, my parents will think I have an ulterior motive.”
“Your parents think everyone has an ulterior motive,” Andie says, her lips curving up.
“You do catch on quickly.”
As Andie and I come down the stairs, the muffled voices of my parents and Georgie grow louder. I hold in a breath, avoiding eye contact with Andie. It won’t be long before another fight erupts.
Georgie storms out of the kitchen, her gaze widening when she spots me and Andie. “Let’s go,” she says, grabbing her bag from the coatrack and slipping into her Uggs.
I pop into the kitchen to kiss my parents goodbye. It’s hard leaving them when I can clearly see how upset they are. I try not to take sides, especially since I can sympathize with both. But all that does is put me in the middle of an impossible situation.
In the car, it’s silent for the first few minutes. I don’t dare touch the stereo since Georgie is super serious about the terrible music she listens to.
“So, am I really taking you two meatheads to the movies?” Georgie asks.
I shake my head. “Where else would we go?”
“It’s a miracle I got Lennon to agree to even leave the house tonight,” Andie says, tugging gently on my ponytail from the back seat.
When we arrive, Georgie pulls into a parking spot. “Andie, can you give us a few minutes?” she asks, turning in her seat.
“Sure. I’ll meet you inside,” Andie says to me. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem,” Georgie says.
We sit in silence as we watch Andie cross the parking lot into the movie theater.
“You know why Mom doesn’t like Andie, right?” Georgie asks.
I don’t respond because I know Georgie is going to tell me regardless.
She’s good at reading people. Brilliant, really.
She’s just very, very impulsive. She was the kind of kid who touched the stove right after being told not to because she had to see for herself how hot it was.
She learns things the hard way, but I also feel like that’s the only way for her.
“It’s because Andie is like me,” Georgie states.
“They barely even know her. Judging people is their hobby.”
It’s quiet again. I want to use this opportunity to ask Georgie questions. How is she feeling? What’s the plan? But how do you ask someone questions about their life when their life is falling apart?
I never told her about Zach confronting me at school. I figured I’d poked my nose in their business enough after blabbing and maybe embellishing about the redhead.
“Do you want to come to the movies with us?” I ask. “My treat.”
Georgie doesn’t answer. Instead, she shifts in her seat to face me. “I want to tell you something.”