Pushing Perfect(23)

The day of tryouts I knew I couldn’t go to school. I couldn’t face Becca. So I stayed in my room after my alarm went off and waited for Mom to come pry me out of bed.

“Why aren’t you up yet, honey?” she asked. “You know you’re going to be late.”

“I’m sick,” I told her, with a fake crack in my voice. I’d debated whether to fake it with some proof—putting hot water on the thermometer, or making retching sounds in the bathroom—but I’d never pretended to be sick before, and I was counting on Mom trusting me. Which made me feel terrible, but which also made me sounding sick way more convincing.

“Will you be all right at home by yourself? I’ve got a lot of meetings today.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

She came over to the bed and kissed my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

I got nervous for a minute. “But I feel awful. I just need to sleep.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll bring home chicken soup from the deli tonight.”

“Thanks.” And with that, I was free. I had the whole day to think about what a horrible person I was, and to debate what to do next. Should I text Becca and tell her I wasn’t coming, wish her good luck? Then it might distract her, throw her off during tryouts. Better to wait and hope she would call when they were over.

I watched the clock all day, imagining Becca powering her way through the water, beating everyone in her heat. She was a fantastic swimmer; there was no way she wouldn’t make it. Maybe she’d be too excited to be angry with me. The clock chimed three o’clock, then four. I didn’t know how long tryouts would last, so I kept checking my phone, waiting for a call or text.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I knew it was over, but I hadn’t heard a word. Not from Becca, or from Isabel, who’d planned to go by the pool after rehearsal. Why hadn’t they gotten in touch? Had something bad happened? Finally, I decided to send a text myself.

Home sick. Sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sure you killed it!

I didn’t know if I’d hit the right tone, but I had a feeling anything I said would be wrong. And I had no idea what would happen if Becca wrote back that she hadn’t made it. She’d never forgive me for not being there then.

I waited all night for her to write back, or for Isabel to check in, through the chicken soup and Mom’s insistence that I go to bed early, lying in bed with my phone next to me, switching it to silent mode after my parents went to sleep. Sleep wasn’t happening for me, though; with every minute that passed without a text or a call, I sensed my friends moving further and further away from me.

I went to school the next day exhausted, practically sleepwalking through my early classes to get to the cafeteria. Isabel was in our usual spot, but Becca wasn’t. “She’s sitting with her new teammates,” Isabel told me. “Swim team tradition, apparently. She made varsity, in case you were wondering. The only freshman who did.”

Her voice was calm, but the hostile undertone was impossible to miss. She didn’t ask me where I’d been, and I didn’t volunteer it. “I’m not surprised,” I said. “She’s an incredible swimmer.”

“Just figured I’d let you know,” she said. “I’ve got to go run some lines with the theater kids. Didn’t want you to think we’d abandoned you.” She didn’t say “like you abandoned us,” but I heard it, loud and clear.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, though she hadn’t asked.

Isabel walked away without turning around, and I sat there for a minute by myself, wondering if this was the end. I looked around the cafeteria and saw Becca laughing with the swim team girls, though she didn’t catch my eye. At a nearby table were some of the kids from my classes, the ones I’d met when I was younger and who I now saw every day. Unlike Becca, they noticed when I looked over at them; Julia waved at me to come sit.

It was better than being alone, I figured. Anything was.

That’s what I thought then, anyway. Hanging out with Alex had made me realize that there was a difference between being alone and being lonely. I was alone right now, but I wasn’t lonely, and I was okay with it.

I wasn’t alone for long, though. I looked down at my phone again to see if Alex had texted; she hadn’t, but I looked up to see someone standing in front of me. Justin, the theater friend of Alex’s I’d met earlier. “Mind if I sit for a minute?” he asked.

“No problem,” I said. “You enjoying the party?”

“Oh, you know, same old thing.” He sounded like he meant it.

“Not to me. Is this really normal for you guys?”

“Well, define normal,” he said. “I just watched a guy in seersucker try to breakdance, but I guess that’s normal for this crew. They’re going for something; I’m just not sure what.”

I wasn’t sure either. But I was starting to like Justin. He was as cute as Raj, but not so flirty, and talking to him was comfortable. “Guess I missed that part,” I said. “What I saw was fun, though.”

“I don’t know that you want to get used to this scene,” he said. “I know Alex is your friend, but be careful. You seem like a nice person. This group could be dangerous for you.”

What was that supposed to mean? Maybe I’d already misjudged Justin, like I’d misjudged Raj. Maybe he wasn’t so nice after all.