Some Kind of Wonderful (2 page)

"Are you happy there? That's all I want to know. Do you think the people are, you know, enough like us?"

"I am happy," I said, glancing behind me to read the dessert menu specials. I was psyched to see that they had my favorite
bread pudding tonight. "The classes are actually challenging, and I like that. I also like that the people
aren't
exactly like me. Everyone's down-to-earth. It's refreshing."

"Refreshing is a week at Spa Montage in Laguna, Flan," my mother said, dabbing her lips with her napkin. "I worry about you.
I want to make sure you have all the same opportunities your brother and sister had, the same opportunities I had. You know
how much I loved Thoney."

My mother never ceases to regale us with tales of her wild days at her ultra-glitzy alma mater, the all-girls high school
I would have attended if I hadn't made the gut-wrenching decision to make a fresh start at Stuyvesant. No one in my family
could understand how anything that had happened to me in seventh grade could be so scarring that I'd want to subject myself
to public school. But it was a choice I'd made myself, and I was proud of all the things I'd had to overcome since I started
school in September.

"I know you did, Mom," I said, as the waiter set down a fantastic-looking plate of bread pudding. "But I love Stuyvesant.
My friends are so cool. I totally made the right choice." But as I said those words aloud, I couldn't help but wonder if they
were completely true. Sometimes I
wasn't
sure I'd made the right decision. Like when I held things back about myself with my very best friends. I glanced at my mom,
who was watching me carefully, and I had the very uncomfortable notion that she might actually be able to read my mind.

"Well, that brings us to our next important topic of conversation," my mother said, eyeing me as I used the biscotti that
came with her espresso to sop up some of my caramel sauce. "The Zumbergs have invited us—"

I groaned audibly.
The Zumbergs have invited us
was never an auspicious beginning to a sentence. They were the most intense socialites of all my parents' friends. I got a
headache just trying to keep up with my parents' stories of traveling with them. Dinner with the Pacinos, a safari with Karl
Lagerfeld—the list went on and on.

"Don't groan. We're all taking an island getaway. The Zumbergs have arranged a fabulous trip to Nevis. They've booked bungalows
for fifty people all along the beach! Why don't you bring one of your new friends and we can all get to know each other better
in paradise? It's exactly our kind of Thanksgiving, Flan," she said, flashing me a grin. "No cooking!"

"You're right." I had to agree, spearing the last of the bread pudding and imagining myself zoning out on the beach, without
a scarf and hat and gloves for a change. "It sounds great."

"Then it's settled. Good Lord, Flan, did you finish that entire dessert already? I knew you'd grown since I last saw you,
and now I can see why."

"What do you mean?" I asked. She'd only been gone a few weeks. How could I have grown that much?

She stood up and pushed in her chair. "Come on, Flan,
Idol
comes on in twenty minutes. I haven't seen it since Jennifer Hudson was eliminated." She stopped. "Flan, you're a giant!"

"Mom!" I said.

"It's just, I was so distracted by the kitchen disaster before. Now that I'm looking at you standing, you've shot up like
a beanstalk. You must be what, five-foot ten?"

"Mom, I'm five-foot seven."

"Fm
five-foot seven. You, dear, are now at least three inches taller than me. Don't stop growing either, Flanny. You'll be a model
yet! So long and lean.
That
I know you inherited from my side."

But I didn't feel like a model. Looking down at my feet, which suddenly looked really far away, I felt like a stork in too-short
jeans. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed this before. And suddenly, as I followed my mom out of the restaurant, I started
to worry. If I couldn't even figure out why none of my clothes seemed to fit anymore, how could I trust myself to make major
life decisions about what school, what friends, and what life was best for me?

Chapter 2

DOWN THE RABBIT'S HOLE

T
he next day after school, Judith and I were hanging at Alice's Tea Cup, waiting for Meredith to join us. Alice's Tea Cup is
this fantastic cafe on the Upper West Side where the pastries are to die for and the decor rule of thumb is that anything
goes as long as it's pink and plucked from some shabby chic antique store in the city. Gathering here was one of our standard
Friday unwinding rituals.

We always sat at the middle table, right in the center of all the action. We debriefed each other on the week that had passed
and planned fun outings for the weekend ahead. At the beginning of the year, when there were tons of new boys at Stuy to discuss,
evaluate, and prioritize, we spent so much time talking about guys that Meredith started calling our meetings at the cafe
"Boy Circle," and the name just stuck.

Usually, I really looked forward to Boy Circle. But today, instead of chilling out and enjoying my favorite Rooibos tea blend
while we waited for Mer to arrive so we could dish, I felt more like I was having an Alice in Wonderland moment of my own.

For one thing, Judith kept muttering about Meredith's "perpetual inability to arrive anywhere on time." If she'd been wearing
a top hat instead of her woven lavender wool beret, I might have mistaken her for the Mad Hatter. Even her standard hair flipping
habit had been aggravated by Meredith's tardiness, and I was trying to stay out of range of her flying blond locks. She was
wearing a white oxford shirt, and a cute little blue tie peaked out of her Bendel's cashmere V-neck. The whole women-wearing-tailored-men's-clothing
trend was practically created for Judith.

"You know," she said, straightening her tie, "this is just like Meredith. To go on a date last night and then be late for
Boy Circle today! Doesn't she know she's torturing us?"

Not wanting to side with her or against her, I kept my eyes on the menu.

"Mmm-hmm," I said jokingly. "The nerve of that girl. So what are we going to eat?"

I was still recovering from the night before when my mother had called attention to my major growth spurt. Sure,
she
still thought it was fabulous.
Don't stop
wearing heels, Flan,
she'd told me when she saw me in flip-flops at the breakfast table.
There's nothing more
showstopping than a tall woman in stilettos.

It didn't help that Judith was the definition of petite or that everyone else in the cafe seemed to be a six-year-old at a
birthday party. Happy little girls in pink tiaras paraded around us, making me feel like I'd just swallowed the
Eat Me
petit four from Alice in Wonderland and blown up to the size of a house.

My stomach growled. It hadn't been that long since I'd had lunch, but I was famished. I sighed and decided to embrace my growth
spurt by just indulging in Alice's awesome fried chicken with a Shirley Temple to wash it down.

"You're late," Judith said, as Meredith came in and made her way toward our table.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Meredith said. "For a very important date."

She piled her stuff on top of Judith's giant North Face backpack and my Brooklyn Industries messenger bag. Meredith always
carted around several bags. As scattered as she could be, she was super anal about her art supplies. There were different
colored totes for her knitting yarns, her jewelry supplies, and, occasionally, her schoolbooks.

"Sorry, I had to stop by Pearl Art Supplies for these awesome new beads." Meredith held out her new baubles for us to admire.
She cradled them carefully, as if she were holding the Hope Diamond. But they were black and tan wood and kind of weird looking.
Judith and I both did our best
oh, interesting
coos and smiles.

"Speaking of important dates," I said to Meredith as she tucked her beads away. "What's new in the world of you and Jules?
Did you end up going to Bowlmor last night?"

"Yes!" Judith said, like she'd been waiting her whole life to make that exclamation. "I'm going through a major gossip drought.
Spill all your bowling escapades ASAP. And please don't tell me Jules brought his own bowling shoes."

Jules was a friend of my ex-boyfriend Bennett, whom Meredith had liked just before—and then again after—she started obsessing
over Adam. I was particularly interested in the details of their date because the fact that Meredith's mind was occupied with
thoughts of Jules and his fedoras made me feel a tiny bit less guilty about Adam.

But Meredith just shrugged and folded her pink napkin into a tiny triangle. "I dunno. He's just kind of . . . goofy. There's
something about a guy with a hat collection. . . ."

Judith held up a finger. "Excuse me," she said. "Are you or are you not the girl who darted into the janitor's closet recently
because you were so intimidated by the beauty of a particular beanie of his?"

We all cracked up and then Meredith sighed.

"Yeah, I think we're just going to be friends. Last night we didn't have anything to talk about except why the best bowling
shirts have stripes. Besides, there's only room for so many hair accessories in one relationship. And I'm not giving up my
headbands." Meredith adjusted the polka-dot strip of fabric she'd woven expertly through her bun. Then she tucked a loose
brown ringlet behind her ear. "In other news," she said, leaning forward in her chair with a mischievous look. "Any recent
run ins with the Kelvinator to report, Judith?"

Judith groaned. Kelvin was this super creepy guy who had the hots for her. The time and energy she'd spent warding him off
was equal only to the time and energy she put into her science fair project last month.

"Don't even bring him up during Boy Circle!" Judith said, blushing and covering her ears. "Remember how I accidentally flirted
with him because he was cruelly disguised as a frog to throw me off?"

"Judith," I laughed, "the costume wasn't a ploy to trick you into flirting with him. It was Halloween! But yes, I do remember."

"Well," Judith said, going for the double hair flip, "yesterday I was looking at his Facebook page, and he has a picture of
me up there! Isn't that like some sort of identity theft?"

"I think what we need to revisit is the fact that you're admittedly cruising Kelvin's Facebook page," Meredith said, nudging
me. "Care to explain that one, Judith?"

"Ooh, busted. You totally love Kelvin," I said, laughing.

As I looked at my friends across the table, I realized that, despite Judith's earlier impatience, it was almost better to
hold out on spilling our gossip for these Friday afternoon sessions. The payoff was so worth the wait.

"If you guys say the name Kelvin one more time, I might lose my appetite. Anyway, the person we really need to hear from is
you, Flan. Don't you have something special planned with Adam this weekend? For your
anniversary}"

I blushed and cleared my throat. I guessed it was only a matter of time before the Boy Circle wand landed on me, but it still
made me uncomfortable to talk to the 'diths about Adam. I tried to stall, glancing across the restaurant, where everyone was
singing "Happy Birthday." A chic Upper East Side mother was cutting a giant pink cake for her daughter. She could have used
the same frosting-coated knife to cut the insta-tension between Mer, Judith, and me. Why did I feel like their eyes were suddenly
boring into me? Was I just being totally paranoid? I would have given anything to be that little girl, blowing out my candles
and wishing for a time when my friends didn't have even the smallest reason—though they swore they were over it—to resent
me.

Not too long ago, I'd been the one making
them
agree to the No Adam Rule when they both simultaneously started crushing on him at the beginning of the year. At the time,
I was just taking preventative measures to avoid a toxic situation. I couldn't have my only two friends at school fighting
over the same guy!

But then, I went and did the worst thing that a friend could ever do.

I fell for him myself.

The truth was, it happened so slowly, I didn't even see it coming. For a while, I'd mistaken Adam for just my obnoxious lab
partner. I thought he only cared about making lewd remarks in class for the benefit of his meathead friends at the back of
the room. I used to dread biology—having to hear all those testosterone-induced grunts from behind me.

But then, when we were assigned to monitor a frog together, I learned how funny and down-to-earth he was. And he was so cute
and parental about our little Bogie. I was dating someone else at the time, so Adam was not even on my radar—at least not
in that way.

But by now, we'd been going strong for almost a month. We did have an anniversary coming up, but everything was still just
uncomfortable enough with Meredith and Judith that I didn't feel like talking about the fact that Adam had promised to take
me to Perilla in the West Village for a romantic dinner tomorrow night. I'd been dying to
go
there ever since Harold, the owner, won Season One of
Top Chef.
Judith and I had been watching the reruns together on Bravo and I knew, under normal circumstances, she'd be psyched that
I was finally going to eat there. But something made me hold back. And it was all this
holding back
that was really starting to freak me out. I thought of my mom grilling me at dinner last night and I started to turn red.

It was kind of awful having to worry that an innocent discussion at Boy Circle could turn into a
The
Hills-style
standoff in no time.

"Um, so, what's everyone doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked innocently.

"My grandma's burning a turkey again," Meredith sighed, pouring us all more tea. "It's tradition."

"Boo," Judith said as she popped a raspberry petit four into her mouth. "My parents are going to visit my sister at her study-abroad
program in Budapest. They're chucking me off to my aunt's house in rural Pennsylvania for the week. Did I mention that I'm
dreading it?"

"Go ahead, Flan," Mer said. "Torture us with your special plans."

Judith laughed. "Yeah, what is it? A banquet at the Hiltons' house? Dinner at the Rainbow Room? Or will you be pigging out
on wasabi rice crisps and crazily expensive champagne with Sara-Beth Benny?" She flicked her hair around, and this time a
lock actually hit my cheek.

My face burned. Meredith and Judith had made remarks like this in the past about SBB, but they were always said in good humor.
Today, because I still had the awkward Adam moment on my mind, I wasn't so sure.

"Actually," I mumbled, looking down at my empty plate, "we're taking a trip to Nevis with some of our family friends. As if
my mom needs another Caribbean vacation. Anyway . . . I was going to . . . I'm allowed to invite one of you to come with."

Meredith's jaw dropped. Judith's fork clattered to her plate. They stared at me in stunned silence.

"Omigod!"

"Flan!"

"You have to take me!"

"My Thanksgiving is going to suck so much more than hers!"

"Not even! Have you ever
been
to rural Pennsylvania?"

"I'll do
anything!"

They were talking so fast, I could barely keep up. Suddenly both my friends were leaning across the table, all eager smiles
and sparkling eyes. Even the little kids in the restaurant were looking at us.

"Well," I said slowly, glad to see that they were so into the idea, but slightly overwhelmed by their exuberance. "I don't
know . . . how am I supposed to decide?"

"I'll do your bio homework for a month," Judith threw out.

"Flan doesn't need help with her homework," Meredith said, grabbing a piece of frilly fabric from one of her bags. "I can
add an awesome ruffled hem to the bottom of your skirt so it won't be so short on you."

"Hey!" I said, looking down at my plum corduroy Alice + Olivia skirt. Well, maybe it
had
gotten a little too short.

Judith laid her hand on mine. "I like the way your skirt looks, Flan. Plus, I know a sophomore girl who's an office aide.
I can get you a
permanent
hall pass."

Meredith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked like she was about to lay down her trump
card.

"I promise to lose any last bit of a grudge that I might have about"—she paused dramatically— "Adam."

Our table was quiet for a moment.

Then Judith said, "So will I."

"You guys," I said.

"No, seriously," Meredith said, and Judith nodded. "It's time we put all of this mess behind us . . . in Nevis!"

Wow. At least I wasn't the only one who still felt like Adam was the eight-hundred-pound quarterback in the room that none
of us wanted to talk about. I guess we were on the same page, which was such a huge relief. I couldn't help it—my lips curled
up in a grin.

"You know what," I told them, "screw the Zumbergs. If they have enough room for fifty people in their bungalows, they can
make room for fifty-one. I really want both of you to come."

At that instant, the whole restaurant erupted in cheers. The bratty six-year-old had finally unwrapped her last massive pink-ribboned
box (another life-size American Girl doll), and all the other parents seemed to be celebrating the fact that the party was
over. More immediately, at our table, Meredith and Judith had both attacked me. They flung a tangle of arms around my shoulders,
ruffled my ponytail, and even kissed my forehead. You'd think I had just asked them to be the maids of honor in my wedding.

"Oh, Flan," Judith breathed. "You won't regret this."

"We are going to have
somuchfun"
Meredith agreed.

And suddenly, I couldn't wait to be on the beach with them. I could picture the three of us lying out on matching plush terrycloth
towels, rotating the direction of our chaise lounges in time with the sun. I'd pour drinks from a frosty pitcher of virgin
daiquiris, Meredith would do all our hair up in crazy twists and knots, and Judith would follow us around with sunscreen.
And the tropical sun would set on any unpleasant misunderstandings we'd had in the past.