Gilbert and Louis Rule the Universe: First Impressions (3 page)

Gilbert and I live in the Piermont slums.
This is the area of Piermont basically reserved for the single parents or those with less money than the average
Piermonter
.
Our houses are small and quaint, while up the street there are, like, super huge mansions.
For the most part, this isn’t a problem, but every now and then you notice something’s different.
Like I roll to school in an old VW, while other kids’ parents are dropping them off in
Beemers
, Mercedes, and Porsches.
Or that all the rich kids are carrying around Blackberries and
iPhones
while Gilbert and I still are practically dialing rotary with our flip phones.
You get the idea.
But like I said, for the most part it’s not that big a deal, it’s not like some of those movies where we are the kids from the “wrong sides of the tracks.” We blend.

I pick another daisy from Gilbert’s yard and try to punch a hole in the stem with my thumbnail without breaking it.
“Ms.
Elston
is ruining the seventh grade for me.
Science is so lame, I mean why would I possibly ever need to know how to make sulfur?
Gross!”
I say.
Why can’t we just take electives like they do in college?
I mean, I am so good at drama.

“True,” agrees Gilbert.
She always agrees with me about important matters.
“I mean does pre-algebra really matter in the great scheme of things?
I doubt it.”

I pop another fry in my mouth as we sit quietly thinking on the injustice of it all.
Gilbert slips the last daisy on her chain into the first and puts the crown on her head.
The white flowers stand out against her brunette hair.
She looks really pretty—not that I tell her.

Gilbert and I have been friends since she moved to Piermont in the third grade.
I’ve lived in Piermont since I was born.
We bonded over our American Girl dolls; we both thought Emma was the coolest, and have been best friends ever since.
Although occasionally we can be a wee
bit competitive.
Like if she gets an A on a math test, then I better get an A on the math test.
The competition works out in school or like in dance, when she can do two pirouettes, then I need to master twirling around twice.
It’s not so good when she is having a better hair day.
Then I may get a little jealous and can be bitchy with her for no reason.

“So what are you going to wear to the dance?”
I ask.
The middle school dance is Friday night and we are so excited.
Not that we can let on, we don’t want anyone to think we are, like, geeks.

“I
dunno
.
Whatever.”
Secretly, Gilbert had been planning her outfit for weeks.
So, of course, had I.

“I wish my dad would buy me that cashmere sweater we saw in that magazine.”
I knew I didn’t have a chance; my dad would never spend that kind of money on a single item of clothing.
“I guess I will wear my jeans and yellow sweater I already have.”
I have the cutest Chinese flats to wear with it too, but I don’t want to get too carried away.

“Really?
I was going to wear that mini-skirt with the embroidered pocket and those layered tanks.
Do you think that will look cute?”
Gilbert asks.
Shoot, I did, I really did.
I mean, why didn’t I think of that?

“Yeah, if you want to seem casual, that would be cool.”

Damn.

*   *  
*

Later that night I was out to dinner with my dad.
As part of the divorce, I get these thrilling weeknight visits where my dad takes me out to dinner, and I spend every other weekend with him and his
vapid
girlfriend, Bonnie.
Gag.
Tonight, thankfully, it is just the two of us at The Olive Garden.
My mom and Bonnie hate going there—they think it is l
ow-brow and full of
carbs
, but my d
ad and I love it.
We find comfort in an all-you-can-eat pasta bowl and endless breadsticks.

My dad works as an engineer in the city.
He’s like really smart in math and stuff and gets frustrated that I am not in any of the advanced math classes.
I think he sometimes wishes he'd had a boy that he could play
Legos
with and talk about cars instead of playing with
Barbies
.
We have a little trouble finding stuff to talk about.
Our father-daughter conversations usually consist
of subjects about school and the weather so most of our dinner is spent in silence.
But he’s alright, I mean, for a dad.

I
think
I might try again for the cashmere sweater.
“Dad, I have this dance coming up on Friday and there’s this sweater I am just dying to get for it.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, “how much is it?”

This was the question I am dreading he will ask.
“I think it’s around $300, but it’s really cute.”

“Are you kidding? You know we can’t afford something like that.
I am sure you have plenty of nice clothes to wear that are already in your closet.”

Shoot, that is exactly what I expected him to say.
Ever since my parents got divorced three years ago everything is out of our price range—something about
alimony
and two households.
My parents are always telling me “the divorce doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Yeah?
Well, tell that to my distinctly lacking wardrobe.

“So, do you have a date?” my dad asks.

“It’s not that kind of dance, Dad.”
This is the kind where you go with your friends, judge other girls on their outfits, and pray that you are picked for the last slow dance by the boy you are crushing on.

“Will there be any cute guys there?”
he asks. I hate talking to my dad about boys.
Ew
.

“Dad, there are, like, no cute guys in our school.
I’ve told you that before.”

“Good,” my dad says as he flags down the waiter for more breadsticks.

Chapter 3

Friday, November 6

Today’s horoscope: Take the time to get to know someone new.

We finally made it through the week, and it is the night of the middle school dance.
I have been getting ready for the past two hours, have perfected my hair, touched up my lip gloss, and still have about fifteen minutes before Gilbert is supposed to come over.
Annoyingly, I always budget too much time for everything so I have to sit there and watch
60 Minutes
with my mom until the doorbell rings.
I run to the door.
Gilbert looks at me and her mouth falls open.

“I thought you were going to wear your yellow sweater,” she says.

I did have on the jeans I told her about but decided the layered tanks were too cute to pass up. So from the waist up Gilbert and I look like twins, except that Gilbert is about a foot taller than me and brunette.
I’m a natural blonde.
No really, I am.

“Yeah, I changed my mind.”

“Are you two girls ready?” My mom shouts from the kitchen.

“Yes!” we yell back.
Gilbert takes one last look at me and shrugs.
She grabs my hand.
“Your hair looks really cute,” she says.
I know it did.
I spent an hour getting my bangs exactly how I wanted them.

*   *   *

We enter the gymnasium after the dance has already begun.
A balloon arch hangs over the entrance with a sign that says Moonlight Serenade.
On one wall the art department painted a large mural of skyscrapers set against the night’s sky, but I don’t think cheap streamers and a disco ball fool anyone into thinking this place is anything more than the school gym.
There is a DJ spinning in the corner.
We both give him a nod and throw him the peace sign (we had seen on MTV that you have to acknowledge the DJ whenever you go into a club) and head over to our friends.

Maddy
is there looking super cute in jeans and a tube top, Riley is wearing this awesome sheer top and tank that I think I saw at Target, and poor Rowan, who transferred to our school from New Zealand, is wearing a prom dress with poufy sleeves and is a color that can best be
compared to an eggplant.
Nobody told her that this wasn’t that kind of dance.
I like Rowan, even if she is like totally foreign, and I want to make her feel better.

“Rowan, that is such a cute dress.”
It was terrible, even if she wore it to prom, but you know.

“Thanks, I, um, thought, well…”

“No, totally cute,” Gilbert agrees.
“You look better than anyone here.”
The girls all look at Gilbert's and my matching tops.
They think better than to say anything.

Gilbert and I are like totally BFF bu
t this is the rest of our
posse
.
Maddy
is even shorter than me with brown hair and freckles—totally cute, super smart, and an artistic genius.
She’s the girl you want to decorate your binder; you know what I mean?
Maddy
lives in Upper Piermont in a really nice house.
She has brothers and sisters but they are away at college so she is practically an only child like me.
I go over there all the time because they have this
rad
TV set up with a huge flat screen, enormous speakers, and a super comfy couch so it is like being at the movies.
You would think her family is totally rich because of where they live and the TV and all, but they bought the house, like, a million years ago, and I guess sending two kids to college costs a lot of money so
Maddy
doesn’t get it any easier than any of us when it comes to an allowance or anything.