Raegan ignores her. I focus on filling in the rest of my letters, still wondering why Alex would do that. He’s the type of person who generally stays under the radar—aside from his asthma attacks. But that hasn’t happened since fifth grade gym class. And he runs with the drama crowd, which means he has to keep up a certain GPA or become at risk of being suspended from theater activities. So why would he intentionally get on Donaldson’s bad side?
The back door opens. Mrs. Mahoy waddles out, shaking a carton of lemonade.
“I figured you girls must be thirsty.” She smiles. “Can I pour y’all a glass?”
“Sure,” Lin says, and I nod in agreement.
“Do we have any that’s not from concentrate?” Raegan asks.
“No.”
“Then no, thanks.”
Her mother sighs, then pours three glasses for the rest of us. “You know, soon enough you won’t be the only princess in this house.” She lays a hand over her belly.
“Trust me, I know.”
Her mom laughs. “The posters look great.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Even though Spirit Week isn’t until early October.”
Raegan glares at me. “Do you know how much I have to do before then?” Her mom takes this as her cue to leave, most likely well aware of what her daughter has to do before then. “Help organize the pep rallies, make sure the team has our routine down—oh,andhelp out with the homecoming parade. Plus there’s everything I have to do for Spirit Week.”
Lin gives me a deadpan stare. “Look what you’ve done.”
“Where’s the off switch?” Whitney says, playfully tapping Raegan’s forearm.
Raegan just gives us the finger.
When Lin and I finish our third poster, Whitney passes us another one. This one reads,WEAR YOUR MUMS & GARTERS WITH WILD PRIDE! GET PSYCHED FOR GAME DAY!
“Ugh, I hate this dumb tradition,” Lin says as she starts filling in theW.“It’s worse than Valentine’s Day.”
I don’t know how the tradition began, to be honest. Every year on homecoming girls wear fake chrysanthemums given to them by their dates. Guys typically wear garters. Both are decorated in school-colored ribbons, tacky bells, and other obnoxious trinkets that dangle down from the base of the flower, which is worn pinned to your shirt, bra strap, or worn around your neck—depending on the weight of it. The bigger and tackier, the better.
The mum I received from Jay seemed thoughtless, even though I would never tell him that. A few limp ribbons dangled from the base. There weren’t any colorful tassels or long strands of beads. Nothing sparkled. But I smiled and told him it was great, even though I’d spenthoursat the craft store choosing heart cut-outs to include on his garter.
“I’ll make you a mum,” I say, knowing I’ll be dateless this year. “I’ll even get one of those music boxes from the craft store and make it play our fight song. Oh, and those twinkling lights that you can turn on and off.”
Lin grins. “Only if you staple three mums together, not one. I’m a three-mum kind of lady.”
“Duh.”
Whitney isn’t laughing, and neither is Raegan. I know they’re all about school spirit and tradition, but they can’t deny that itdoessingle out all the singles.
I need more lemonade before I pass out from dehydration. I grab my empty glass and stand up at the exact time Whitney does. She must have the same idea because her glass is empty, too. We glance at each other for a moment before starting toward the back door.
We’re both quiet as we enter the kitchen. Raegan’s parents have always kept a spotless house. It’s a staging habit from her father’s realtor career. There isn’t a single crumb on the large granite island. The kitchen appliances are neatly aligned near the sink along with matching folded dish towels.
Her parents aren’t around, but I can hear the faint sound of TV coming from upstairs. I make my way toward the fridge and pull out the lemonade.
I know I should bring up Jay. I don’t want to, but I also don’t want things to continue to be tense between us. Making amends with her is part of my twelve steps, and dancing around the topic of Jay won’t get us anywhere.
“So, um,” I start, pouring the lemonade over melting ice. “You and Jay.”
Her hand tightens around her glass. “Me and Jay,” she repeats.
She’s making me do all the hard work. I take a deep breath. “Look, I know I wasn’t a good friend while I was gone. I get that everyone’s lives went on without me, but… I don’t know. I guess I want to say it’s okay. I mean, thatI’mokay. With you and Jay.”
