“Did you lie about me or not, Kristina?”
She stands there dumbfounded. I get in my car and drive away.
I approach Dad after his evening toke.
“I need a sick note for today,” I say. “I totally skipped school.”
He looks at me and shakes his head and smiles. “It just keeps getting worse with you.”
“Nah. Today was just the day off I should have had on Monday. I want to get back.”
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
“Nowhere special.”
I hand him the blank absentee card, and he scribbles his signature on it, and I slip it into my backpack before I go to bed.
When I walk through the kitchen to get to the stairs, I look into the living room and see that Mom is still ironing.
36
FRIDAY IS JUST GROSS.
I WAKE UP LATE on Friday and rush to the bathroom to wet my hair and brush my teeth. In the hall, I meet Ellis wrapped in a towel. When she sees me, she grabs the front of the towel and pulls it up to her neck and scurries into her room quickly, as if I’ll become aroused at the sight of my own sister in a towel.
I don’t have enough gross words in my gross vocabulary to describe how gross that gross thought is. Gross.
While I’m brushing my teeth, I think about how our sisterhood deteriorated. I blame Mom. Of course. But as I look at myself in the mirror, I see some other stuff. My snubbing her when she decided to be a small-town girl. Me deciding she didn’t need me anymore when she got old enough to stop watching The Wizard of Oz. Me not inviting her when Dad and I would make stuff together. Me deciding that Mom would always like her more… and having it reflect on her instead of just on Mom.
So maybe I helped it happen. Maybe we’d be closer. If I told her the truth, she’d probably accept me eventually, and we could just be sisters again.
None of this changes the fact that what she just did was gross.
The janitor took pity on me and cleaned off the wall above my locker, even though I can still see the flecks of red crayon embedded in the crannies of the painted cinder blocks. I know it makes me a horrible person, but after Ellis’s grossness this morning, I kinda wish it was still there.
“They closed down your bar,” I hear from behind me. It’s Jeff Garnet. “Did you see in the paper today?”
I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t my bar. And no, I didn’t see that.”
“Well, they closed it, and they arrested the owner, I think.”
“Huh,” I say. “I guess that’s what you get for serving underage kids.” What else am I supposed to say? I turn around so he’s not talking to my back anymore.
“I’m really sorry, Jeff. About everything. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I was totally wrong, and I—”
“It’s cool, Astrid. I mean, I think you’re really nice, you know?”
Oh, man. I am so not nice. I am the opposite of nice when it comes to what I did to Jeff Garnet. I want to say I am scum because I feel like scum. But before I can, he talks again.
“Your mom called my mom last night,” he says.
I just stare at him like I’m totally scared of what he’s going to come out with next. Because I am.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. Sorry about her. She’s nuts.”
“She asked my mom to talk to me about how you just made a mistake and went there so you could drink and dance and stuff. Is that true?”
“Yeah, kinda.” No, not at all.
“She wanted to know if I’d go out with you again.”
“Oh, God,” I say. “I’m really sorry. Just ignore her. She hasn’t been able to locate her mind-your-own-business medication for years.” I think my cheeks are actually purple. They physically hurt.
He’s fidgeting as though he’s actually about to ask me out again. I can see his leg going all jiggly. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m kinda going out with Karen Koch now,” he says.
Do I look as relieved as I am?
I say, “I am so happy to hear that! You guys are perfect for each other. God! She’s been into you for a long time.”
I send my love to Jeff Garnet. Jeff, I love you. Not in that way, so don’t even try it. But I love you since you’ve been standing here talking to me like a normal person for more than a minute. I hope Karen totally lets you in her pants, okay?
“Cool. So we’re cool?” he says.
“Totally. And thanks for coming to talk to me. You’re the first person who’s talked to me for more than a few seconds in a whole week.”
“Shit—you know it’ll blow over. Everything blows over around here.” We nod at each other. It makes me feel better. Then he says, “But that Justin and Kristina thing was a bit hard to take, man. I can’t believe they lied like that. And I used to change next to him for gym all the time.” He makes a cringing, concerned face.
“Don’t worry. He’s not into you.”
“Yeah, but still. It’s weird,” he says. “I hear he’s in jail now.”
I shake my head. “Don’t believe what you hear.”
As he walks away, I think about what he said about Justin in the locker room, and I think about Ellis and her gross towel thing this morning, and I figure out what confuses people so much about other people being g*y. They think it’s all about sex.
Humanities class is abuzz with paradoxes. Most people are still keeping them secret, but one, in particular, is tossed out for Ms. Steck and me to hear.
Penny Uppergrove says, “Love is between a man and a woman.”
Ms. Steck continues to work with another student on a computer in the back of the room. Clay turns around and says, “I think that’s one of the best ones I’ve heard.”
“Thank you,” Penny says.
“So what you’re saying is that love can’t possibly only be between just a man and a woman because that lacks all common sense. For example, a woman can love her child, correct? And a boy can love his dog. And I, personally, love peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Good paradox. Well done.”
“But that’s not what I meant,” she says. Then she gets flustered and starts going through her notes.
“Oh. Then color me confused,” Clay says. “What else could you mean?”
“Shit,” she says. “So a Socratic paradox is about something that probably isn’t true, but you make it sound true?” She shuffles through her notebook and finds a part she highlighted in pink. “So I should say the opposite.”