Puddin'(94)
She sighs, rubbing her eyes. “The rodeo-clown cousin. Keith wanted to have them over, but I thought maybe he and I could just go out with them if you could hang back and watch Kyla.”
Kyla crosses her arms. “I don’t need watchin’.”
I shake my head and ruffle my hand through Kyla’s hair. “I don’t mind watching Kyla.”
“Date night!” says Mitch.
Mama laughs. “With a rodeo clown and his fourth wife! Lucky me.” She turns to me. “Thank you, baby.”
I nod. “No prob.”
Kyla flips over to the right channel, and the four of us sit back to watch. I rest my arm on the back of the sofa behind my sister, and Mitch coyly stretches his arm behind mine, tracing circles up the sleeve of my T-shirt. He leaves a trail of goose bumps everywhere his skin touches mine.
My phone buzzes and I find a picture of Claudia and her girlfriend, Rachel, attempting to paddleboard, except that Claudia is mid-fall and she is definitely taking Rachel with her. My super-serious older sister, who never took time out to do anything that didn’t move her one step closer to her dream of becoming an opera singer, is paddleboarding somewhere in Germany with the girl she loves.
Wow, I respond, what possessed your body and forced you to do an outdoor activity?
CLAUDIA: I guess you could say I’m diversifying my interests. You could probably stand to do the same.
I smile to myself and tuck my phone into my pocket.
We watch as the Shamrocks do their routine—the one I spent so many hours perfecting. They’re not perfect. They won’t place. But they’re still good. They don’t look out of place, like they made it there on some kind of fluke. I’m angry all over again about how underappreciated the whole team was and is. And then part of me is sad over the missed opportunity. I look over to Mama and I see it in her eyes, too. She would have done whatever it took to fly out to San Francisco and watch me and the rest of the girls. But instead both of us are here in this living room, watching other people live the life we’d both bet on.
I’m kind of surprised, though. Sitting here, watching my whole team at Nationals without me, isn’t quite as miserable as I thought it would be. I’m glad to be sharing this couch with Mitch, our kiss still fresh on my lips.
On the television, the cameraman focuses in on an immaculately crafted sign made to cheer one of the teams on. The fluorescent letters are piped with glitter and read WHY NOT US? GEAUX SOUTH BATON ROUGE! It’s craftsmanship Millie would’ve appreciated.
If I’m missing anything at all right now, it’s not dance or having a boyfriend or being one of the most popular girls in school. It’s a fat girl who surprised me in ways I could never expect and who I think might just have somehow become my best friend.
Millie
Thirty-Three
Mom is no longer giving me the silent treatment, which is convenient, because she has imposed a new rule stating I’m not allowed to go anywhere with anyone unless she confirms my plans with the other person’s parents. Basically, if you’re trying to read in between the lines, all that means is no more date nights with Malik.
I haven’t had the heart to tell him that I don’t think this will work anymore, so I’ve done about the worst thing I can imagine and lied, telling him I’ve been busy with family stuff and schoolwork. There are nights when he messages me online and I just let the open messenger box sit there for hours, blinking at me. During the day at school sometimes he’ll ask me if everything is okay, but I just put on my usual positive, cheerful face, except this time it’s nothing more than a costume. “Yes! Of course!” I tell him. “I’m so fine. I’ve just been so busy.”
Since my blowout with Callie and receiving my rejection letter, I haven’t exactly felt like wrangling the whole gang for a sleepover. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last few days wondering why I bother. Sure, I love Willowdean, Amanda, Hannah, and Ellen, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m the only one trying to make that friendship circle happen. Maybe it’s for the best that I just let them all go back to their normal lives and let the slumber party tradition die, just like my short-lived friendship with Callie.
The good news, though, is that school is nearly over, and while Daisy Ranch isn’t what I had in mind for this summer, maybe it will give me a chance to reset and somehow remember the things that are most important to me.
After doing my opening duties at the gym, I pull up outside Amanda’s house to pick her up for school. It’s the end of May, which means the end of the school year is so close, I can practically taste sunscreen.
I turn up the radio to some bouncy pop I know she’s sure to love. I can fake smile the whole way to school so long as I don’t have to talk.
Amanda hops into the passenger seat, and over the music, she shouts, “My parents finally said yes to two weeks at soccer camp! Me, the Kansas plains, and tons of balls!” She pauses. “Soccer balls! Not, like, actual balls.”
I give her two thumbs up and a huge grin before taking off down her street. I’m happy for her, I swear. Amanda’s wanted to go to this camp for years, and it’s not a cheap thing either. But I have to blink aggressively until the sting of oncoming tears is gone. I’ve told Amanda about the Callie situation, but I just can’t bring myself to tell her about the rejection letter. Something about saying it out loud makes it too real.