“Zac, Ashton, let’s be reasonable about this.” I look between the two of them, astonished they are giving me the time of day.
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“Ellie, you have to pick between us.” Zac Efron brushes his long locks from his eyes. His basketball jersey hangs snugly against his muscular frame.
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Fine, I pick you. And your muscles.
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“I agree with him, Ellie. You must pick,” Ashton Kutcher says, stepping forward and crossing his arms. His perpetual smirk rests on his lips. “And let’s make this quick. I need to be on set soon. We’re punking Rihanna today.”
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Just kidding, I pick you. Laughter is important in a relationship.
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“Oh, right, that stupid prank show you do. Can’t be late for that!” Zac huffs and steps closer to Ashton.
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“Oh, you’re just mad because I pushed your appearance.” Ashton turns and squints at Zac. “Don’t you have to go sing or something?”
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The two continue to stare each other down. How did I get in this situation?
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“Fellas, come on. We can all be friends, right?” I smile and give a thumbs up. They blink, unmoved. “Right?”
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Ashton opens his mouth to speak again, but all that comes out is a shrill beep.
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I furrow my eyes. “Ashton, are you okay?”
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He opens his mouth again. BEEP.
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“What is going on?” I step closer to the pair. Zac looks at me and opens his mouth. BEEP.
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BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
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I groan and roll over, slamming my hand on my alarm clock. It figures I’d be woken up in the middle of a dream like that. I crawl out of bed and amble over to my closest, grabbing the first shirt and pair of jeans I see. Yawning, I head out of my room and to the bathroom, anxious to feel the refreshing hot water over my body.
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Maybe I should take a cold shower and cool myself off after that dream.
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Stepping into the shower, I smile and replay the dream in my head. An imaginary love triangle with Zac Efron and Ashton Kutcher beats out a real relationship with Max any day.
--
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After I shower and dress, I head to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. My mom sits at the table with Frank, my stepfather. They both look up as I enter.
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“Good morning,” I venture, opening the fridge and taking out a yogurt and an apple.
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“Good morning, killer.” Frank picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip. “Who are you planning on knocking out today?”
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“Frank!” My mom scolds. “You shouldn’t be encouraging her behavior! She could have gotten into serious trouble!”
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Frank nods. “I know that. I’m not saying I support it. And I’m thankful we’re avoiding legal issues, even if you would have had a fantastic lawyer.” He winks at me and takes another sip of his coffee.
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I smile in return. “Obviously.” I take a bite of my apple and drum my fingers on the table. “I apologized to Max last night, Mom.”
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She smiles wide. “Good! See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
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I take another bite of my apple and look her in the eye. “I can think of several things I’d much rather do than have to do that again.”
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Her smile instantly turns into a frown. “Eleanor, you mustn’t be so bitter towards him. You’re the one who punched him, after all.”
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Of course she’s taking his side.
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“Not bitter,” I say, shaking my head. “Just over him and how much of a jerk he is.”
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“Honey, you can’t be mad at him forever. Forgiveness is important.”
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“Mom, he broke up with me three days ago. Forgiveness can wait. He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness right now.” I take another bite.
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“Being spiteful isn’t a good look, dear.” She arches her eyebrows and lifts her coffee mug.
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“I can do all things through spite, which strengthens me.”
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Frank chuckles as my mother sucks in a deep breath. “Eleanor, that is not appropriate,” she says, her cheeks turning red. I shrug and take another bite.
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“Well, if it isn’t the female Mike Tyson herself!” A voice says behind me. I turn to find my older brother, Clark, standing at the counter. His shaggy strawberry hair, the same rosy shade as mine, is ruffled and falls into his eyes. He’s still wearing his pajamas and he looks like he rolled right out of bed.
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Oh, to be a college student and have the ability to sleep in.
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“Morning, C.” I finish my apple and crack open my yogurt.
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“I hear you really socked it to Max yesterday.” Clark sits down next to me and grabs a muffin from the center of the table.
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I shrug and ignore the glare we’re both getting from my mother. “It’s not a big deal really.”
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“Not a big deal!” Clark smiles wide. “It’s not every day my kid sister wallops a guy. You must tell me your secret.”
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“It’s all in the wrist. See, you’ve got to clench your fist like you’re holding on for dear life and keep your arm straight as you go in for the kill.” I mimic my movements from yesterday.
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“Enough, Eleanor!” My mother’s shrill voice cuts through the room. “This is not a joking matter!” Her hands are spread out on the table and her eyes are wide.
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“Sorry, Mom,” Clark and I say at the same time. I finish my yogurt and stand. “I’ve got to get going. Is Leo going to need a ride today?” I ask, rinsing my spoon in the sink and depositing my yogurt container in the trash.
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“He wants to take the bus,” Frank says, standing as well. Leo, my 8-year-old brother, usually snags a ride from me in the morning.
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“Works for me.” I turn to leave the kitchen. A drive to school without having to listen to a full-blown recap of the latest superhero movie seems like a dream.
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“Oh, and Ellie, don’t forget to come home right after school today.” My mother’s voice is back to nurturing. “No going to Lindsey’s or Romina’s. You’re still grounded.”
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“Yes, Mom.” I rush out of the kitchen and grab my school bag before leaving the house. I go to my car, a 1995 Saturn, and throw my bag in the backseat. I still needed to figure out how to get myself ungrounded, and I’m sure the conversation this morning deterred my mother from ever relenting.
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I sigh and get in the driver’s seat, silently amping myself up for another day.
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--
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“I knew your mom would flip.” Lindsey closes her locker and turns to me. “Now you have to miss my party!”
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“You can always reschedule it,” I offer, grabbing my Physics book and tucking it into my bag before closing my own locker.
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Lindsey shakes her head. “No can do. My parents already paid the caterer.” Lindsey’s parents are known to consistently go above and beyond for any gathering, even a minor Labor Day party for their teenage daughter.
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I groan. “I will think of something, I promise.” The warning bell rings and we go our separate ways. I make my way down the hall to Physics.
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I will not punch Max today. I will not punch Max today. I. Will. Not. Punch. Max. Today.
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Simon’s already at our table when I enter the Physics room. Max is with Tiffani, and neither of them notice me as I slide into my seat.
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“Morning, Simon.” I take out my notebook and textbook.
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Simon turns and looks at me. He has large bags under his eyes and his skin is pale.
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“You okay?”
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Simon nods. “I’m fine. I was up late chatting with you-know-who last night.” He yawns and covers his mouth with his hand. I sneak a glance over at Marcus, who mirrors Simon’s ragged appearance.
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“Ah. That go well?”
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Simon shrugs. “I guess so. He still won’t tell his parents.” His voice drops. “But whatever, I can’t wait all year.”
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Mr. Whitlock walks into the room just as the bell to start class goes off.
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“Okay, everyone, please take out your textbooks and open to page 394.”
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--
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That afternoon, I have Senior Planning with Romina and Lindsey. We’re supposed to spend the year figuring out our lives. I’m expecting this year to go as it has in the past, where seniors spend each class until May goofing off and then whip out a half-assed essay the week before graduation.
The three of us sit in the back of the room. Lindsey has her notebook out and is party planning, ignoring what the teacher is saying about our major project.
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“Now, I’m sure most of you in this class are expecting to waste your time before turning in what is a less than remarkable assignment,” Ms. Slovenhall, the teacher, says. She’s a younger teacher, new this year, and her black-rimmed glasses and bob haircut make her look much older than she likely is.
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“However, this year, we’re going to do things a little differently. Each week, you will be responsible for meeting with me and showing me evidence of what you are completing. I know, I know, it’s terrible you have to actually work, but it will be better for you in the long run.” She smiles and starts passing out packets of paper.
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“I want each of you to think about who you are right at this very moment. Then, spend this year growing. Challenge yourself. Become someone better and reflect on your time here.” She stops at my desk and puts the packet in front of me. A weak smile crosses her lips. “Chances are, some of you have made some serious mistakes. Now is the time to change who you think you’re supposed to be.” She walks away.
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Great, so every teacher knows about what happened yesterday.
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“Each week, when you meet with me, you will need to complete a journal entry. Requirements for this are listed, and I’m expecting each of you to really go all-out for this.” She continues on, explaining the project requirements in detail.
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Lindsey pokes my arm with her pencil and passes me a note.
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Work session at your house after school?
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I make sure Ms. Slovenhall isn’t paying attention before responding.
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Unlikely. I’m grounded, remember?I pass the note back to her. She scribbles an answer.
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Even for school projects? Leigh won’t let you fail.
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She is, of course, right. My mother would rather saw off her arm than have me waste precious academic time.
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I’ll ask. I write back. I pull my cell phone out of my bag and compose a quick text to my mother, all the while sneaking glances to make sure Mrs. Slovenhall isn’t watching. The last thing I need is to get in trouble for using my phone. A few moments later, my phone buzzes with a response.
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Love the initiative. Work in the kitchen. No boys.
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I give a quick thumbs up to Lindsey and smile. I could use this time to prove to my mother that she could relent on the grounding.
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--
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After school, Romina, Lindsey, and I sit at the kitchen table, our notebooks spread out before us. A platter of chips sits in the middle of the table, and I have my laptop open.
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“I have zero clue what I’m going to do for this,” I mutter, eyeing the chips.
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“Same. I don’t even know what next week will bring,” Lindsey says, taking a drink from her soda can. “It’s like, how can teachers expect us to know what we’re doing with our lives at this age?”
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“You guys are being ridiculous,” Romina says. “Just do what you always do and bullshit it.”
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Lindsey and I stare at her.
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“What?” She raises her head. “It’s not like you guys were planning on actually putting in effort until you found out it was a weekly grade.”
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“You’re not wrong.” I sigh and grab a chip, sticking it in my mouth and savoring the salty deliciousness.
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We get back to work, each of us snagging more chips as the minutes pass by. We’re interrupted shortly after by Clark barreling into the kitchen. He’s followed by a guy I’ve never seen before and I find my heart picking up the pace.
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“Well, if it isn’t three of my favorite high schoolers!” Clark beams at us.
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“Hi Clark,” the three of us say in unison. I take a second look at the boy behind Clark. He stands about six feet tall, has bright blue eyes and soft blond hair, which is perfectly styled in a spiky fashion. My heart continues to beat faster.
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Stop it, Ellie. You do NOT need to get involved with another guy.
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My heart doesn’t listen though. Instead, it starts doing somersaults in my chest. Mystery boy stands there grinning.
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“This is Reuben,” Clark says, pointing to his companion. “Reuben, this is my sister Ellie and her two friends, Romina and Lindsey.”
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Be cool, Ellie. Be. Cool.
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“Oh, neat, like the sandwich?” Four pairs of eyes lock onto me and my stomach joins in on the gymnastics happening inside my body.
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Ellie, WHAT?
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Lindsey starts shaking with laughter and Romina’s lips pull tightly together. Clark stares at me in disbelief and I would like nothing more than to be invisible.
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Reuben’s eyes widen. “Sure, just like the sandwich.” His voice is as warm as the sun and I am melting.
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I smile. Reuben smiles back and my heart has resumed its practice for the Olympics.
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“You uh, have something.” Reuben brushes the side of his lip. I reach up and to my horror find crumbs lining my lips.
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Why God, why? He likely thinks I’m a complete slob.
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I wipe them away with a napkin and will my cheeks to stop burning.
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Now would be a great time for the apocalypse.
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“Well, it was nice meeting you.” Reuben raises his hand in a wave. “See you all later?”
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“Bye now, Reuben!” Lindsey waves back and forth. “We hope to see you again soon, especially Ellie!”
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Best friend or not, I want her dead.
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I pull her down into her seat. “What are you doing?” I hiss, looking back at the doorway. Thankfully, Reuben and Clark have left.
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Lindsey smiles. “I fancy a sandwich. Do you, Romina?”
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I groan.
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“What kind will we make?” Romina’s eyes are sparkling with laughter.
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“Grilled cheese?”
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“BLT?”
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“Club?”
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“Peanut butter and jelly?”
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“You two are hilarious.” I close my laptop and begin gathering up my things.
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“I know!” Lindsey says, sticking her finger in the air.
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“REUBEN!” The two of them say this together and break into fits of laughter.
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“Hardy har,” I grumble. “I’m so glad my embarrassment brings you joy.”
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“Let’s be real, though. He was cute, right?” Lindsey leans in close.
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I shrug. “He was alright, I guess. If you’re into that sort of thing.” I flutter my hands in the air.
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Lindsey snorts. “‘That sort of thing.’ Right. Whatever you say, Ellie.” She grins as she picks up her pencil. She starts writing in her notebook.
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“What are you writing?” I lean over. “Are those names?”
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Lindsey nods and hands the notebook over to Romina. “Have any to add?”
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Romina scans the notebook before chuckling. “Kale? Clementine? Benedict? What are these?”
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Lindsey flashes that devilish grin again. “Future baby names. I figured we’d stick with the food theme.”
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I drop my head on the table. “You guys suck.”
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“You forgot Olive! And Colby!” Romina picks up her pen and adds to the list.
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I am never going to live this down.
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