Look Both Ways(42)

Zoe smiles. “I’m dating someone from home, actually. His name is Carlos.”

“Ooh, what an excellent name. Is he an actor, too?”

“No, but he does play the guitar, and he has a really nice voice. He’s going to Rhode Island School of Design in the fall to study animation.”

“An artist! How delightful. Are you two serious?”

“Sort of,” Zoe says. “It’s a little complicated. We won’t be in the same city next year, and we don’t want to hold each other back or anything. So we’re going to try to be flexible if we find ourselves wanting to date other people.” She catches my eye for the tiniest moment, then looks away.



I try not to seem too interested, but this is the first I’ve heard of Zoe and Carlos having a flexible arrangement. I know it doesn’t change anything between her and me, but my illogical heart does a little skip anyway.

My mom is nodding. “That’s very mature, Zoe. Most people your age don’t understand that love dies if you strangle it. I learned that the hard way a couple of times. Is he coming to visit at all this summer?”

“Yeah, he’s actually coming in, like, two and a half weeks,” Zoe says. “Sorry, Brooklyn. I meant to tell you that yesterday. You don’t mind, do you?”

There is absolutely nothing I want less than to have Zoe’s cute, guitar-playing, animator boyfriend staying in our room, but I force my expression not to change. “Of course I don’t mind,” I say. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

The waiter arrives with our food, and the plate he puts down in front of me contains a yellow square with some vegetables stacked on top. I take a tiny bite, and it’s not terrible, but the texture is kind of weird and gritty. I wish I’d taken two seconds to actually look at the menu; Zoe’s burger looks much more appetizing. As if she knows what I’m thinking, she turns her plate so the fries are toward me.

“Speaking of liking people,” my mom says, “any summer sparks flying for you, Brookie?”

I look down at my plate. “Not really. The only guys I ever hang out with are gay.”



“It doesn’t have to be a guy. I was so in love with this girl the first summer I was at Allerdale. Her name was Madeline, and she had the sexiest legs you’ve ever seen.”

“Mom,” I say. “God.”

“What? Don’t get all uptight on me. I know there’s someone here for you if you look hard enough. Zoe, will you please encourage Brooklyn to find a nice boy or girl to date, even if it’s only a summer fling? She’s so picky.”

Zoe glances at me sideways. “Don’t worry,” she says to my mom. “I’m sure there are plenty of people here who would fall head over heels for Brooklyn if they knew she was available.”

Suddenly my polenta doesn’t taste nearly as disgusting.

Zoe gets up to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, and I’m sure my mom is going to take the opportunity to grill me about Birdie. But instead, she leans over and grabs my arm so hard, it hurts. “I knew it!” she whispers.

“You knew what?”

“She’s totally into you.”

“Mom,” I say. I glance toward the bathroom, but there’s no way Zoe could hear us from all the way over there. “She’s not. We’re just friends. She’s straight. Plus, she’s in a relationship.”

“An open relationship,” my mom emphasizes. “And she definitely wants to be more than your friend. It’s blatantly obvious. There’s no reason to be embarrassed, Brookie. I think it would be wonderful if something happened between you two.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” I say, even though my face is flaming. “It’s just…there’s nothing like that going on.” But now all I can think about is how Zoe’s lips felt pressed against mine, how her voice sounded when she whispered, There, now you’ve kissed a girl.



My mom rolls her eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m not blind. I see the way she looks at you.”

“What? How does she look at me?”

“Like you’re the brightest thing in the room. Like she wants to swallow you whole and then lick up the crumbs.”

I start to say, That’s insane, no she doesn’t. But what comes out of my mouth is, “Really?”

“Absolutely. I couldn’t be happier for you. She’s a wonderful girl.”

Zoe comes out of the bathroom and starts heading back toward the table, the silky skirt of her red dress swishing around her long legs. When she catches me watching her, she shoots me a brilliant smile.

“I know,” I tell my mom. “She really is.”



When Zoe switches off the light that night, I’m about to try to start a game of Love or Hate. But before I can come up with a question, she says, “So…your mom thinks you’re in the ensemble of Birdie.”

I bury my face in my pillow. “Ugh. Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I should’ve warned you that I wanted you to cover for me, and I totally forgot. And because it’s your show, and I, like, co-opted it. Are you mad?”



“Of course not. Why do you always think I’m mad at you? I’m never mad at you.”