Isabelle was brave. She didn’t care what people thought. Sometimes she didn’t wear makeup to school. She posted more pictures of sunsets than selfies. When rumors went around, like how Hannah Maxwell was getting a nose job, Isabelle was definitely not the person you’d ever trace them back to. If there was one human at all of OLR—middle school and high schools combined—who had no reason to get on anyone’s bad side, it was literally Isabelle Winters.
I definitely wanted to know more about it, like what happened, and who said/did what, and if Isabelle’s still invited to Carnivale. I couldn’t really ask Isabelle about it. Even though she sits by me in language arts, she gives off a vibe that she wants to be left alone. She pretty much shut herself off from everyone.
Brielle asked, “Hey, does your brother still have that girlfriend?”
My lunch was peanut butter and honey on wheat bread that Mom had made, and it was making me die of thirst on the hottest day on Planet Earth.
Technically, Brielle had a green tea smoothie and a salmon roll. But really, she wasn’t eating any of it.
“Stacy?” I asked, hiding my dry, sticky mouth with my hand.
“Yeah, I guess that’s her,” Brielle said. “Are they still together?”
“Yeah, they’re still together.”
“So, what do you think of her?”
“I think she’s paranoid,” I said, thinking about asking Brielle for a sip of her green tea smoothie. “She’s always thinking Eli’s going to have some winter fling with a big-time surfer girl. My dad isn’t a fan, either, but my mom likes her fine, I guess.”
“Really?” Brielle bit at the straw in her smoothie. She was into it, hearing about my life. I had important stuff to say, stuff that mattered. I thought about telling her I found the perfect twist on my Carnivale outfit—while everyone would be wearing feathers on top, I was picturing a strapless mini with feathers on the bottom—but it seemed too early. I wasn’t invited yet, I reminded myself. But I could keep talking about the Stacy stuff.
“Yeah,” I said. “My dad thinks she’s a ‘bad influence’ on him—on Eli, I mean—because she’s not going to school, and she’s older than him, and she’s kind of out of control.”
“Really?” Brielle leaned forward. “Like, how?”
“For one,” I said, “she’s always telling Eli how to live his life.”
Brielle slid her green tea smoothie toward me and asked, “Like…?”
“Like,” I said between amazing sips, “Eli asked Stacy if she wanted to go to Homecoming—I heard him telling Tate about that. But she has to work, and she doesn’t want Eli to go without her, so now he can’t go, either. So while Stacy works, he’s going surfing instead. When I asked if he was going, he said no, that he doesn’t have to stuff himself into a suit, that he can catch the last waves at Sandys instead.”
“He told you that? Your brother, like, tells you things like that?”
I told her Eli talks to me all the time. How he talks all about surfing. How he’d rather surf than go to Homecoming. How he’d rather surf than do anything.
“What else?” Brielle asked. “About Stacy?”
So, I can’t say I loved talking about Stacy. But Brielle was into it, so I told her Stacy’s a total partier. That’s what Dad thinks. He was losing it about that last night. But I didn’t tell Brielle that last part.
* * *
“Another C in English. Again.” Dad was standing in the kitchen with Eli’s progress report when Eli walked in, kicked off his flip-flops.
Eli didn’t say anything. But I did hear him kind of snort.
Dad went on. “How?! How is this happening again?”
Eli shrugged.
“You know how to write,” Dad said. He told Eli he writes better than half his students at the college. He said, “You could do something with that.”
Eli dug through the freezer, took out a frozen pizza. He ripped open the box and stared right at Dad.
“I’m not like you,” he said.
FALL
Prompt: Picture Day!
“She’s pretty,” Brielle said about Stacy today at lunch. She said she stalked her on social media.
“Yeah, kind of, I guess,” I said. “If you’re into neck tattoos and the whole ’40s pinup look.”
I didn’t want to talk about Stacy. Again.
I wanted to talk about Isabelle, and that whole thing. When was Brielle going to tell me about it? Why was it some random mystery?
Yesterday in language arts, Isabelle turned and looked at me like she was going to say something. Her eyes were soft, and her mouth opened a little, but she bit her lip and turned back around.
“She’s pretty,” Brielle said again about Stacy. “What is she, size zero?”
I had no idea what size Stacy was. I’d never thought about it. But speaking of looks, it’s Free Dress! Picture Day!
Brielle is: slate-gray dress with a black belt, a long silver key necklace, AND those strappy Stuart Weitzmans that JUST came out in Vogue. MAKE IT MAJOR: already perfect. Amazing.
I told her I LOVE those Stuart Weitzmans, and she said I can borrow them!!!
Me, I’m: striped maxi, black next-level wedges, and a double chain (the look Rachel Zoe just wore in St. Barth).
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Li Lu completely interrupted our whole conversation when she sat herself down at our table. “Are you talking about STACY—Eli’s girlfriend? You think she’s KIND OF pretty? Um, she’s totally MODEL material!”
How long had Li Lu been listening? I swear, she has bionic ears.
Li Lu was: lacy white top with a pointy collar buttoned right up to her neck. She was always interrupting my life, being so dramatic about everything.
Still, it was my job to protect her, right? What could I do? What could I say? She had put me in such an awkward position. Again. And I was trying to think of something—before Brielle did. I just had a feeling the whole thing could go south, and it would all be so unnecessary.
Was it possible to be friends with both Li Lu and Brielle?
Brielle was quicker than I was. She flicked her ponytail, and her drop-down diamonds shivered.
She said to me, but loud enough for Li Lu to hear, “Who wears a white top on Picture Day when white tops are our regular uniform?”
Li Lu pulled the collar from her neck. She looked at me, got up, and walked away.
I couldn’t eat. But the whole thing didn’t faze Brielle. Her eyes popped out and she swirled her finger in the “crazy” sign, then whispered to me, “SHE is a wingnut.”
WINGNUT! I had never heard that before. It was hilarious!
Li Lu took everything so seriously. But also, she was tough. She’d get over the white top thing. It wasn’t that big of a deal.
Brielle and me, we laughed. What everyone said about her wasn’t true. That she’s mean. That she uses people. Obviously, those people don’t know her.
WINTER
Prompt: If you were president, how would you reduce the national debt?
I wish I’d never met her.