PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black Page 2

  “Oh.” I shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s just Yamir.”

  “Just Yamir?” Georgina shrieks. “Okay, I know he’s Sunny’s brother and I don’t want to gross her out, but he was the cutest kid in eighth grade last year!”

  Georgina is a close second in the boy-crazy department. She’s, like, Eve’s sidekick for everything. So if Eve is into something, Georgina is too. But I think it’s more that she wants to make Eve feel like she’s not the only boy-crazy one. Georgina’s one of those people who will always tell you you’re doing the right thing. If you ever need any positive reinforcement, talk to Georgina.

  “Grossing me out. Thanks.” Sunny looks down at the tinfoil around her sandwich. “Cool if you stop now.”

  “He’s in high school. That’s all I’m saying,” Eve adds, but then continues—so it clearly wasn’t all she was saying. “He’s in a whole different school and he still chooses to be your boyfriend. That’s a big deal.”

  “We’re going to be in high school next year too,” I remind them. “But thanks. It’s cool to feel cool.” I laugh at how stupid that sounds and try to think of a way to change the topic.

  “Speaking of boyfriends, where’s Evan?” Eve asks Sunny. I think Eve keeps some kind of checklist on boyfriends—who has one, where they are, what they’re doing. She keeps saying she prays every night that we’ll all have one by Eighth-Grade Masquerade. We only have a couple of months to make that happen, and I’m not sure Annabelle even talks to boys except when it’s about Earth Club or Mathletes.

  “He only sits with us on Fridays.” Sunny laughs. “You know that.”

  It’s true, but it’s funny when she says it out loud like it’s an actual rule. At the beginning of the year, Sunny wanted Evan to sit with her at lunch, but Evan also wanted to sit with his friends. So they made up this silly plan that Evan would sit at our table on Fridays and Sunny would sit at his table on Mondays. But Sunny still sits at our table all the time, and Friday is pizza day anyway, so most people just grab slices and sit wherever they feel like.

  It seems like their relationship is always perfect. I don’t know what they’re doing that I can’t do. Maybe Sunny can teach a class on how to have a successful relationship. Or forget the class—maybe she can just teach me. Best friends are supposed to help each other out with those kinds of things.

  “Riiiight.” Eve laughs. “I forgot.” As much as Annabelle has grown on me, Eve still bugs me. I guess everyone can’t be perfect.

  So we spend the rest of lunch talking about who in the grade has boyfriends and who doesn’t, and who is going to bring a date to Eighth-Grade Masquerade. The conversation is making my stomach hurt, and I can barely finish my salad.

  “Sunny and Lucy are so lucky that they don’t have to worry about this,” Georgina says. “If I can make Harrison Tate know my name by the dance, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

  “Georgina!” I shout, too loud for the cafeteria. Mr. Mikros gives me a look. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. He’s new to the school. I bet he doesn’t know anyone’s name.”

  “He knows my name,” Eve says. “His dad just fixed our sprinklers and Harrison came to help him, and it was soooo embarrassing.”

  “He went to your house and you didn’t even tell me?” Georgina squeals. “That’s, like, against every code of friendship. You should have been texting me as soon as you saw his dad’s truck roll into your driveway.”

  “He didn’t come in a truck,” Eve says, completely serious.

  Georgina rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  Thankfully, the bell rings just in time, and we can end this silly discussion. Only five more periods and then school is over. After that, the Earth Club prep meeting, and then the meeting I’ve been waiting months for will finally be here.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Work hard on things that are important to you.

  Sunny meets me at our lockers after the final bell rings. We don’t have eighth period together, since four days a week she takes French and I take Spanish, and once a week we’re in different art electives.

  “Mrs. Deleccio said to meet her outside her office,” Sunny says.

  “Okay.” I throw my books in my locker and take a pen and a notebook with me. “Hopefully I’ll have time to ask Mom or Grandma to bring a dress over. Annabelle was smart and brought one with her, but I totally forgot.”

  “My mom can bring an extra for you,” Sunny says. “She has to drive right by here anyway on her way to pick Yamir up from swimming.”

  “Swimming? In January?”

  “Yeah, he’s trying out for the swim team. So he practices some afternoons.” She looks at me crookedly. “Wait. You didn’t know that?”

  “Oh, um, I think I did. I just spaced. I’m so nervous for tonight, y’know.”

  She doesn’t believe me. “Lucy. Come on.” We stop walking and she puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s talk for a second. We don’t have to meet Mrs. Deleccio until 3:45.”

  We sit down on the big blocks in the lobby. It’s kind of an unofficial student lounge, since we don’t have a student lounge.

  “So, what’s up?” Sunny asks, giving me her most sympathetic smile.

  “I don’t really know. I guess that’s the problem.”

  “Well, what don’t you know?”

  “Over Christmas break Yamir and I saw each other every day. Remember? But since then, he’s basically been ignoring me. I thought it was because basketball started, but maybe it’s something else. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Just ask him,” Sunny says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

  “I don’t want him to know I care that much.”

  “Huh? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I can’t explain it.”

  We sit there for a few more minutes going back and forth, not getting anywhere, and then it’s time to meet Mrs. Deleccio. We’re almost at her office when Sunny says, “I know what’s bugging you. That everyone thinks it’s so perfect. And that you know it’s not exactly the way it seems.”

  “That might be part of it. I really want everything to be perfect.”

  “Well, everyone doesn’t need to know everything. You know?”

  It sort of feels like we’re speaking in code right now, but that’s one of the amazing things about having a real, true best friend. You can speak in code and know exactly what the other is saying without even trying that hard to decipher it.

  “I guess. But isn’t that like lying?” I say quietly, almost in a whisper.

  “Not so much. More like just being a private person.” Sunny smiles. “Trust me. I’ve got your back.”

  Everyone needs a best friend like Sunny. Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs, but it’s really been more up than down. And when you have a friend like that, even scary things aren’t as scary as they would be alone.

  “I don’t even know what you see in him, honestly,” Sunny says as we finish our conversation outside the middle school faculty offices.

  “That’s because he’s your brother,” I explain.

  “So tell me what’s so great about him as a boyfriend. Tell me three things.”

  I hesitate for a second, wondering if this is something I can even put into words. And I especially don’t know if I can do it on the spot.

  “Well, he’s easy to talk to. I feel like he gets me. Like, sometimes he knows what I’m about to say before I even say it. And he’s funny; he always makes me laugh. And I never get bored of him. I’m always excited to see him.”

  “That may have been more than three things.” Sunny squints. “I lost count. But good answers. Let’s continue this conversation later, when no one else is around.”

  I nod in agreement.

  The door to Mrs. Deleccio’s office is open a little, so we knock softly and walk in.

  “Welcome, ladies,” Mrs. Deleccio says. In all my time at Old Mill Middle School, I’ve never been in her office, and it feels special. S
he arranged some chairs in a circle and put out mini doughnuts and cups of water. This feels like the most official, grown-up Earth Club meeting we’ve ever had. Annabelle and Evan are already there. Our Greening the Cafeteria Committee is complete.

  “Any questions? Additions? Concerns?” Mrs. Deleccio asks. She’s wearing a wool sweater with embroidered pens, pencils, blackboards, and chalk on it. I’m pretty sure a student made it, since one sleeve is longer than the other and the collar droops. But she wears it anyway. That’s the kind of teacher she is.

  “Will they give us their decision tonight?” Evan asks.

  “Most likely,” Mrs. Deleccio says. “There are a few other proposals up before yours. One about the parking lot, another about temporary classrooms. Boring stuff.” She laughs. “And then you guys. You’re all going up together?”

  I nod. “We know the order. We decided that alphabetical by first name made sense. So Annabelle, Evan, me, Sunny.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll be sitting there cheering you guys on, and available for any last-minute questions.”

  After the meeting, Annabelle goes to get help from her math teacher. She doesn’t really need help, but she does it anyway. Evan decides he’s going to shoot hoops with whoever is in the gym, so Sunny and I call her mom and decide to go back to her house for a little while before the meeting.

  “Which dress do you want to borrow?” she asks.

  I think about it for a second. “Maybe that green sweater one you got on sale a few weeks ago. And can I borrow tights too?”

  “Of course.”

  As soon as I see Sunny’s mom’s car pulling into the school parking lot, my heart starts pounding. If Yamir is sitting in the front seat, I won’t know what to say. I wonder if he even realizes he’s been ignoring me. Sometimes boys are oblivious to that stuff. He could think that everything is perfectly fine, for all I know.

  But he’s not in the front seat. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. Sunny hops in front. I sit in back, staring out the window and telling myself that everything will be okay.

  I wonder if I cared about him this much when things were fine between us. Sometimes life is weird like that. You only obsess over something when it’s gone sour. Why don’t we ever get excited about the good things?

  “Where’s Yamir?” Sunny asks, and I bet she’s doing that just for me. She doesn’t care where Yamir is. She probably wouldn’t even mind if he moved to India to live with their grandma.

  “Something about studying with Anthony,” Mrs. Ramal says, sounding suspicious. “I guess we’ll find out if he was telling the truth when his report card comes.”

  Sunny groans. “Yeah, right. If he gets anything above a C, I’ll pass out from shock.”

  “Sunita, enough.” Mrs. Ramal turns down the Indian music and glances at me in the backseat. “Lucy, my darling, how are you?”

  I’ve always loved the way Mrs. Ramal calls me “my darling.” She pretty much calls everyone that, but it still feels special.

  “Pretty good. Excited that the meeting is tonight. Then we have to start getting ready for Eighth-Grade Masquerade.”

  I could have just stopped at “pretty good.” I don’t know why I went into an explanation. I wonder if she can tell that I’m really trying to act calm despite the stress her son is causing me.

  “Ah yes. The big dance. Exciting!”

  Sunny turns around and gives me a look, but for once I can’t figure out what she’s trying to say. That her mom is weird? That I won’t have a date? I decide to ignore it.

  Back at Sunny’s, we’re trying on dresses since we have lots of time. She puts on this pink fluffy thing that she’s worn to a million bar and bat mitzvahs.

  “Too much,” I say. “We need to look professional.”

  She nods, and slips it off.

  I thought I wanted to wear her new green sweater dress, but I’ve changed my mind a million times after looking through Sunny’s closet. Finally I try on her gray A-line dress with the skinny silver belt. “What about this for me?”

  “I love it! You can wear my black ballet flats and my houndstooth tights.”

  “Perfect!” I love wearing Sunny’s clothes. It’s a miracle that we’re both the same size and have the same tastes. It’s like we were put on this earth to be best friends. But so many variables could have kept us apart. Her parents could have stayed in India. My parents could have stayed together and moved to the Berkshires, like they used to dream about. Anything could have happened. But the universe wanted us to be BFFs, and so we are.

  Sunny puts on her flowing blue maxi dress, even though it’s really for summer, and wears a silver cardigan over it. She has silver ballet flats that match perfectly.

  “That’s the outfit,” I tell her. “You look sophisticated and smart.”

  “Ha! I’ll take it!”

  Next, we test eye shadow colors.

  I’m immediately more relaxed. Kind of like how people feel better once they start running or at the beginning of their yoga class. I put a brush to a face, and I feel better right away.

  If this school year continues the way it’s been going, I’m probably going to look like I’m in a Broadway show every single day.

  I’m trying out this sparkly silver shadow when the phone rings. Her mom yells, “Sunita, answer the phone, please!” from downstairs, but Sunny is mid-eye with the eyeliner pencil, so she tells me to get it.

  I’ve already said “hello” when I realize I should’ve announced myself.

  “Hello?” the voice on the other end says, confused.

  “Um, it’s Lucy.” I sound tentative and scared, my least favorite tone.

  “Oh! Luce-Juice!” Yamir sounds excited but normal, like I answer the phone at his house every day, like we just talked an hour ago.

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, first of all, how are you?” He’s using that jokey but confident voice that I like so much. To me, it seems like nothing in the world ever bothers him, like everything’s always going to be okay, like he has everything under control.

  “I’m good.” I freeze. Suddenly I can’t think of a single thing to say. To Yamir, my boyfriend. If that’s what he is.

  “Yeah? Good. Good to hear you’re good.” He pauses for a second too, and then says, “Listen, can you tell mi madre that Sir Anthony is giving me a ride home, and that yes, I have my key.”

  “Anthony drives now?”

  He laughs. “Yes, Luce, they changed the driving age to fourteen. Very funny. His mamacita is driving us home.”

  “Got it. I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “Oh, and good luck tonight.”

  I hang up the phone and I’m all flickery, like fireworks as they’re about to fall into the ocean. I can’t stop smiling. Nothing even happened. He didn’t say where he’s been or why he hasn’t called. But he did say good luck. He remembered. Sometimes remembering is the most important thing of all.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Try to act confident even when you’re not feeling that way.

  Sunny’s mom drives us back to school, and all I can see are Yamir’s muddy sneakers on the floor in the backseat. I didn’t notice them before, but now I do. Something about them being here makes me happy. It’s strange, though—who leaves sneakers in the car? Did he walk into the house barefoot?

  “Good luck, darlings,” Mrs. Ramal says, and then we walk inside. It always feels funny to be at school after hours, when it’s dark out. It almost makes school seem more exciting, like I’d be able to pay attention better if we went to class at night. Even the ugly peach wall tiles look pretty when I see them at night.

  “Ready?” Sunny squeezes my hand as we walk into the auditorium. There’s a table set up on the stage, and people are already filling out the seats in the audience. It’s hard to believe that so many came out on a freezing-cold winter night. They must really care about the schools.

  “They pay taxes. They want to know what’s going
on,” Sunny explains. I bet she’s repeating something her dad said once, but it sounds smart.

  Annabelle and Evan are up front, by the stage, chatting with Mrs. Deleccio. Evan and Sunny high-five when they see each other, which I think is pretty cool. It’s not like they’re going to smooch in front of anyone.

  “Why don’t you guys sit over here, and then we’ll all go up together when they call us?” Mrs. Deleccio guides us to a row of seats toward the front.

  Suddenly it all feels real. I’m wearing a whole outfit of Sunny’s and it’s snowing outside and we’re in school at night and we’re about to make our presentation. In a way, I realize I’ve been waiting forever for this, and in another way, I find it hard to believe that it’s actually here.

  This is all part of the end of middle school—a time that I’ll remember forever. It has to go right, and I’m confident it will. But it’s more than nerves I’m feeling. I really need it to be perfect. I’m only going to do this once; there’s no do-over. I don’t want to constantly think about what I could have done differently, if only I had the chance.

  But life is like that too. There’s no do-over. Maybe we should approach every situation like this, constantly trying for perfection.

  The president of the school board, Clint’s dad, goes up to the microphone and starts the meeting. I zone out for the beginning part, since it’s pretty boring to discuss the sizes of the parking spots in the high school student lot. Then there’s some discussion about adding an extra position for a technology teacher in the elementary school, which is borderline interesting. Next is a big debate about adding temporary classrooms on the field behind the elementary school to make room for students with special needs. People get heated over this one, but I can’t figure out why. The more the merrier, right?

  Finally it’s our turn.

  “Next on the agenda is our big presentation from the Old Mill Middle School Earth Club,” Clint’s dad says. “I’d like to call up Lucy Desberg, Evan Mass, Sunita Ramal, and Annabelle Wilson.”