Our Song (11 page)

Knowing Annie wasn’t going to take no for an answer, I held the camera up to my face and looked through the little peephole. “I don’t even know where to press. See? Total waste.”

“Not so fast my little naysayer,” she protested as I tried to hand the camera back. “Just relax and have fun with it.” She positioned my finger on the correct button then showed me how to focus the lens and adjust the zoom. “And remember, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

That was the problem. I wasn’t happy when things were imperfect. As much as I hated to admit it, maybe I wasn’t so unlike my mother after all.

I aimed at the cotton candy booth just ahead, fiddling with the lens until Jill Rosen’s face came into sharp focus. I sat next to Jill in math but had never noticed that she had so many freckles. I shifted the camera a bit to the right and snapped. Click. The shutter closed on Jill’s outstretched pink tongue making contact with the fluffy mound of candy just as another round of fireworks erupted in the sky.

“There you go. See? Not so hard. Finish the roll and I’ll help you develop them.”

“Only if I can get a few of you,” I said, zooming in on her face. “Don’t think you can get out of it just because you’re the editor.”

“Then you’ll have to keep up with me.” Annie ran ahead, weaving through the thick crowd.

As I took more pictures, I felt my whole body relax. There was something comforting about the camera covering my face like a mask, while granting me this special window onto the world. I was usually so busy worrying about what other people thought of me that I didn’t ever stop to notice them. Looking through the lens, I began to really see things—two hands touching, a stolen glance—like I was suddenly given a front row seat to other people’s private moments.

We reached the end of the field and started back on the other side when a large, cheering crowd drew our attention.

“Try to get some shots of this,” Annie said as we got closer. A heated pie-eating contest was underway.

There were so many people crowded around the stand that I couldn’t make out the competitors. Following Annie’s instructions, I kept snapping away as I inched closer and closer to the front of the crowd. I was almost there when Derek’s face suddenly appeared in the frame. He was standing at the center of the booth, judging the contest. His smooth, clean-shaven skin, the dimpled indentation above his upper lip, his blond eyelashes were so vivid and clear through the lens, it felt like I could reach out and touch him.

My finger hovered over the shutter release. It was the closest I had come to him since everything happened. But I couldn’t even take the picture.

Sensing what was happening, Annie appeared right behind me. Without saying a word, she took my arm and led me away from the crowd, to the other side of the field. We stopped in front of the bouncy castle. “Take off your shoes,” she said, kicking off her vintage Doc Martens. “We’re going in.”

“I’m not in the mood.” I hadn’t been in a bouncy castle since I was five and I didn’t even like them all that much back then. “We’ve taken a lot of photos. Can’t we just go?”

“You need to cut loose and forget about that nerd-jerk once and for all.” She stood over me with her arms crossed.

“And a bouncy castle is the way to do that?”

“It’s a start. Besides, if you won’t talk, you’ve got to let it out somehow.”

I thought about the day I tore my room apart in anger, how even that didn’t make me feel any better, how memories were deeper than anything you could touch or see. I began unlacing my sneakers.

“Yay!” she squealed. “I promise this will make you feel a thousand times better.”

I poked my head in to make sure it was empty before crawling through the narrow opening. I struggled to gain my balance on the uneven surface. It was like trying to walk across a waterbed. At least the inflatable walls blocked out the sounds of the carnival, reducing the cheers from the pie-eating contest to a distant, muffled drone.

Just as I managed to get my footing, Annie dove in, causing the ground to swell like a wave.

“Hey!” I yelled as I toppled over. “You just knocked me down.”

“That’s the whole point! Now repeat after me: Screw him!”

“This is dumb,” I said, trying to regain my balance.

“Come on, what do you have to lose? Just try it. Screw him!” Annie said, launching up into the air like a rocket.

“Screw him,” I muttered, flinging myself into one of the walls.

“I can’t hear you!” she yelled.

“Screw HIM,” I said, a little louder.

“Now say it LIKE YOU REALLY MEAN IT!”

“SCREW HIM!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, hurling myself up so high my hands practically reached the ceiling, the castle’s bold yellows, reds, and greens blending together as I tumbled down onto my back. I just lay there floating on the wobbly floor when I heard the sound of muffled giggling. I thought it was Annie until I turned my head and saw Betsy and her cheerleading posse peering in through the entrance. They were all in uniform: micro-mini skirts, midriff bearing tank tops, pom-poms and all.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Betsy said, her hands poised on her small hips. “I’d hate to interrupt your little routine.”

Another round of giggles followed.

Lying on the teetering ground, a giant wave of humiliation crashed over me and I suddenly felt seasick. I glanced down at my legs quivering on the castle’s shaky ground. They looked so big from that angle, especially compared to Betsy’s legs, which seemed to go on forever.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t speak skank,” Annie yelled back to Betsy. “Can you translate?”

Betsy just stared at her before curling her upper lip and doing an about face. Her friends followed suit. I lay motionless watching them retreat, their long, perfectly shiny ponytails swaying in sync. All I could think about was how many times I had tried to make my thick, unruly hair look just like theirs, but had never succeeded. Looking at Betsy’s equally perfect round and compact butt, I tugged on my button-down shirt, wishing it covered more of me. There wasn’t a single pair of jeans that could make my butt look like hers.

“You can’t let her get to you,” Annie said once they were gone.

“She’s my replacement,” I said flatly, staring up at patches of the dark sky poking through the top of the castle. “My upgrade.”

“Sometimes I just want to shake you. Do you even hear yourself? You’re a thousand times better than Betsy Brill, but that’s not even the point because you can’t see it.”

“No, I’m not. My life is over,” I said emphatically, propping myself up on my elbows.

“If you think your life is over, then do something about it.” She went to put her boots back on and gather her bags. “Maybe you were given a second chance for a reason. Maybe this is your opportunity to start over. Did you ever consider that?”

I knew she was only trying to help but her words cut deep. I suddenly felt very tired, like I could slip into a long, permanent sleep. “No,” I said. “I’m not like you.”

“That’s right, you’re not. And you’re not like Betsy or Derek or your mother or anyone else you think has control over your life. You’re the one in charge. You’re the only one who can change
your destiny no matter what you might think. The sooner you figure that out, the sooner you can start living for real.”

• • •

We drove home in silence. The moon was even brighter now, exposing all the fault lines in the pavement along the way. When I was little, I would avoid the cracks in the sidewalk and step over them, convinced it would keep me safe. But now I knew it was useless. The cracks were everywhere, and there was no escaping them.

The house was dark when I came in. I had no idea whether my father had come home yet, and I didn’t care. Before heading out into the garden, I stopped to do my nightly check of Derek’s Facebook profile. I nearly fell out of my chair when a new picture—of him and Betsy—appeared at the top of his page. A sharp pain pierced through me as I stared at the two of them, cheek to cheek, all smiles. It was just like the pictures he and I used to take. Betsy had only just posted it a few moments ago. It was as if she had done it for my sake, like she knew I still obsessively checked his page and wanted to send me a clear message that Derek belonged to her now.

But my heart stopped when I noticed another change. There, in clear black print, his relationship status now read,
In a relationship with Betsy Brill
.

My stomach clenched and my heart sped up in my chest. I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up. It hurt all over and nowhere in particular. I sat back and caught my reflection in the window. My hair looked all knotted and covered half my face. I looked just like the girl in that horror movie
The Ring
.
I was terrifying. No wonder Derek could barely look at me anymore.

I ran down the hall, past my bedroom, and into the bathroom. I flicked on the light and searched the medicine cabinet for the blunt scissors my mother always used to cut Noah’s hair. The shelves were practically empty, devoid of the collection of old prescription bottles and Advil and cold medicines that normally accumulated there. I felt a dull jab in my gut. Yet another sign that my mother didn’t trust me.

I finally found the scissors, hidden in the back of the second drawer next to the sink. I grabbed a thick chunk of hair and began to cut.

In the mirror’s reflection I watched the long strands float down, like feathers in suspended animation, daring me to care.

But I didn’t. I no longer had a reason to.

THE LAST BELL
of the day finally rang. I sprang from my seat and was first out the door. There were still almost four hours until the meeting, but being on the move made it seem like time might go by just a little bit faster. I was sure Nick hadn’t given me a second thought; that is, if he even remembered who I was. And there was no guarantee he’d even show up, especially given the fact that he spent a grand total of about twelve minutes at the last meeting. Still, the thought of seeing him again allowed my mind to escape while the rest of me was trapped at school. For those few minutes that we spoke, I didn’t feel like I was playing the role of Olive Bell the way I had to here at school.

Out in the hall the bell reverberated against the metal lockers. Classroom doors swung open like dominos. Students streamed into the corridor, surrounding me like an army of marching ants. Instinctively, I reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear but felt nothing but bare skin. I glanced up, afraid of the intense stares I had become accustomed to. But no one was
looking. Maybe I was finally old news now; maybe chopping my hair off wasn’t such a disaster after all.

“Boo!” Annie grabbed me from behind and yanked out one of my earbuds.

I jumped, nearly dropping my books. “Jeez, you scared me!”

“I still can’t believe you cut it all off,” she said, touching my empty back where my hair used to fall. It was like a blanket had been yanked off me during the night. I couldn’t decide if I felt lighter and free, or naked and exposed.

Just then Derek rounded the corner. It was pointless trying to avoid him anymore. It just made the times that I did see him hurt even more.

I quickly buried my head in my locker. Derek used to make fun of Annie’s short hair behind her back, saying she looked like a “lesbo”—his word, not mine. Even though my hair wasn’t boy-short like Annie’s, I could still practically hear him laughing about my new look with Betsy.

“Can you not make a big deal of it?” I hissed.

“How can I not make a big deal? This is, like, the boldest thing you’ve ever done! Not to mention you look freakin’ awesome.”

I stared at my reflection in the mirror tacked to the inside of the door. My face looked so big and round framed by the short, blunt cut. I’d made sure to even it out into a semi-stylish bob. At first, I looked like a crazy person, with long, uneven strands sprouting out at every angle. I could tell my mother wasn’t into my new look from her reaction (“Oh, you cut your hair”), but
short of praise, she let it go. Looking at it now, I tugged down on the edges, willing them to magically grow back, to reverse my actions. “It was an impulse. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t think more often.”

The back of my head throbbed like the wound was still fresh. If I had stopped to think, I would never have done a lot of things. I angled the door to try to catch a glimpse of Derek through the mirror, but he was already gone.

“I seriously can’t wait for you to meet someone else,” she said, following my gaze to Derek’s locker. “It’s the only thing that will make you forget him once and for all.”

My mind immediately went to Nick. But instead of feeling excited by the possibility of seeing him tonight, I suddenly felt terrified. I had almost told Annie about him so many times this past week, but now I was relieved that I hadn’t. I’d already built him up in my head more than I should have. Telling Annie would elevate him to some super status and only guarantee disappointment.

Annie was looking at me expectantly. What did she know about moving on anyway? “Is that how you’ve gotten over all
your
exes?” I asked. The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

Annie reached into her locker. “I have to return this,” she said, holding out a book as if she didn’t hear me. But I knew she had, and that I had gone too far.

“I didn’t mean that—”

“I’ll meet you at my car in five,” Annie said, cutting me off before I could finish.

I let it go as she hurried down the hall toward the library. I knew that if Annie didn’t want to talk about something, there was no point trying. Like the time her parents went through a rough patch freshman year. She had told me enough to know that they were fighting, and that I shouldn’t ask any questions. It was the main reason I knew I could count on her to not push me about that night. Annie was always private, especially when it came to her parents. They were this tight, happy little threesome that existed apart from the rest of the world. I used to think it was because she was an only child, but I came to believe it was really that her parents were so much cooler than everyone else’s. They were interesting and fair and you could say anything to them without worrying they’d take it the wrong way. Maybe it was why Annie didn’t care about boys and love as much as I did. Because she had so much love at home. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me. I knew they did. They just didn’t know how to love me in the right way, in a way that didn’t make me feel so alone.