the world as my oyster.

Tonight at dusk, Tucker and I crept over to Luna’s house and called her cell phone. We circled around the backyard and through the grass, which was cold with dew although the night air was only cool.

She popped open a window and hopped out, barefoot, hair unkempt and nail polish chipped.
“What the hell?” was Tucker’s charming opener.

“I’m grounded,” Luna said brusquely. While we gaped—Luna’s parents didn’t do grounded, the did negligence—she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What the hell do you want?”

Tucker blinked, scowled. “We are trying to ascertain whether you are in good health, physically and mentally and maybe even emotionally. We are trying to be there for you.”

“Then maybe,” she retorted, “you should have watched my back at afterprom instead of going off to neck under the moonlight.”

There was an ugly silence during which my cheeks slowly flushed. Luna looked from face to face.

“You’re kidding,” she said flatly. “This is too precious for words. Feckin’ Tucker and little Jenny sittin’ in a tree, making love and peace and happiness. Wow, Jenny, you really committed to the cliché, hunh? Cashin’ in the ole vcard on Prom Night. I may puke with the sickly sweetness of it all.”

Tucker was enraged. “How dare you talk to Jenny like that! She hasn’t done a thing. She’s been nice to you, defended you when I haven’t. How dare you throw slander at her like that after all the times I’ve driven you to clinics and held your hair back and cut you off and drove you home.”

“So??” she screamed. "I’ve done the same for you. And you know what? Whatever. Jenny plays the good little girl, but no one stays that innocent. One day she’ll be just as twisted as you and me. And you—that little good girl vibe, that wholesomeness you wouldn’t stop talking about when we first hung out with her—it doesn’t rub off, dipshit. You’re trying to be good when you’re just as messed up as me! At least I’m self aware! I don’t delude myself!”

There was a little silence. Tucker spoke, calmer now: “Luna, this time you’ve gone too far with your hypocrisy. I know you think you’re untouchable, but you can’t talk your way out of this mess this time with that silvered tongue of yours. You have to appear in court, for crissakes. That’s not something to brush off.”

“Whatever,” Luna replied, looking away, the fight gone out of her.

“I’m through, Luna. I’m done holding your hair back and listening to you spew this crap. I’m out. Jenny, let’s go.” Tucker left, not looking back. Stomping through the grass. I lingered.

“Luna…please. It doesn’t have to be this way. Turn it around. Repent. Tell the judge you’re sorry, turn over a new leaf. Talk to your parents. See someone. Apologize to Tucker.”

She snorted. “You’re that kind of girl, Jenny. If the world were your oyster, you’d send it back to the farm to grow old and make pearls and tiny, adorable little baby oyster. The farm would be green and the oyster would live and die happily, free from pollutants and French chefs and tacky nouveau riche who think oysters and pink champagne are status. But really, it’s Maybachs and sleeping pill addictions that tell you money’s been bottled, chilled, and properly aged. But I bet you didn’t know that.”

She met my eyes dead-on, and I shivered. They had the dead look you see in inner-city cops and barracuda lawyers.

“Now, honey, I have predatory instincts. I would lever that sucker out and suck it down like fossil fuels at a Nascar convention. And squeeze a few fucking pearls out of it, too.”
She crawled back through the window and glided out of sight, and I was left staring into the empty frame.

Read more

Swans Mate for Life [it's all a lie!!]

Today I walked in during a free and a junior I know by sight was sobbing her poor little eyes out in the bathroom. She was one of those girls that wore so much mascara it looked ridiculous with her blonde hair. I’ve never seen the point in makeup that heavy for a day-to-day basis. What better way to prove you’re insecure than advertise that you cake on make up?

Now, she had raccoon eyes and black streaks down her cheeks. She heard me come in and defiantly wiped her cheeks and met my eyes. I hesitated, thinking about Luna. But I decided to be like Tucker and do what I wanted, despite what she’d say.

“Ashley…you alright? You want me to take you to the nurse?”

She glared at me and wet a paper towel. “Get out, Jane. I don’t need your pity or whatever.”

“It’s Jenny.” Woah. I’m never that assertive. I guess it helped that she was the vulnerable one here. And I knew she knew my name.

“Whatever.” She dabbed under her eyes. It wasn’t helping much.

“Seriously,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone.” I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a little tin of Vaseline lip therapy. “Here. If you rub it in than wipe it off, it’ll remove the makeup.”

She looked at it for a minute then snatched it out of my hand. Guess she cared about appearances, too. She rubbed it in and then wiped with the towel. She inspected her cheek and looked at me, surprised. “Woah,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling. “It’s a good trick.”

“I should’ve known this would happen,” she muttered.

“What?” I asked, startled.

“My boyfriend. He…last weekend…ick. He hooked up with one of my friends.”

“James,” I said. “You’re dating James, right?”

“Yeah. Huge mistake.” She smiled bitterly. “Apparently, it’s been going on for a while. That’s what I get for trusting that jerk.”

“Um, if it’s any comfort, you’re prettier than he deserves.”

She blinked. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve heard another girl my age say that and mean it. Thanks.”

I shrugged.

“Why can’t people be like swans?” she asked.

“What?” I said. For once, I wasn’t the one leading with the non-sequiturs.

“Swans,” she said. “They bond for life.”

“Actually, they don’t. They’re unfaithful like every other species ever, basically.”

She looked at the ground again. “How do you know?”

“Some scientists gave paternity tests to the children of a bunch of animals. Something crazy like 50% of fathers were raising kids that weren’t theirs. I’ll message you the Times article.”

“Well, shit. I guess I’ll never find a good guy.” She smiled sadly. She was smiling a lot, even though she was clearly upset. And she was being pretty cool about my nerdy word vomit. I liked her.

“There’s still hope. There’s some kind of worm that like fuses their body together. They never cheat.”

“So…what? I find a guy and become a level 5 clinger? Or put him on a leash?”

“Screw that. Find one that wants you so bad he wouldn’t mind fusing to your hip.”

“Then he’s clingy! I don’t want that.” She giggled. “I have a friend whose bf gave her his Facebook password the first week they were together. They’re disgustingly cute. But it’s not my style.”

I shrugged and smiled again. “Then find one from like the 50% who don’t cheat. Not one like James, a nice one.”

“Like your boy Tucker?” she said, smiling slyly.

I blushed and looked at the ground and couldn’t get the words out to say we were just friends.

She laughed. “Nah, it’s cool. Congrats on prom, though. Luna must be pissed.”

We walked out together.

Read more

Do I Buy the Boutonniere?

Earlier this Week:

“Go to prom with me.”

I laughed. Tucker stared at me. “Tucker, you’re going with Luna. Luna, your best friend? You asked her in March, for crissakes.”

“Luna and I aren’t going together. So much the better.” He waited. I began to get annoyed.

“That’s it? You simply aren’t going? Does she know this? Is she gonna come claw my eyes out or what?”

“Look, it’s not that big a deal. We had a tiff.”

“A tiff?” I screeched. “So you’re giving me two weeks to find a dress, shoes, hair, makeup?!”

“It’s a little more than two weeks. And, well, you are an underclassman.”

I smiled in that snarky way I learned from my mother. “So I should be grateful.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…” He growled and ran his hands through his hair, muttering apologies and curses.

I grabbed his hand. “Tucker, talk to me. What is going on?”

He sighed, angrily. “Luna and I had a fight.”

“Obviously.”

“She got asked to prom by one of her puppy dogs. And she tried to use it to make me jealous. And I got mad at her, since we’re only going as friends. And she said that since I like you so much better, I should take you. And I screamed fine!, and that I spend so much more time with you because she’s too busy playing at ringleader and playacting for her adoring fans.”

“…Tucker…What. Are. You. Talking. About. Adoring fans?”

“Look, you…Ugh. You don’t know her like I do. She puts on these airs. She constantly has to be witty and mysterious and she puts so much effort in to seeming spontaneous that she wears herself thin. A personality can’t be stretched out like that.”

“Tucker, that’s ridiculous. Luna doesn’t put anything on; she just is.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t see her like I do. There’s something wrong with her. Everything she does is adopted and calculated for effect.”

“I think maybe you’re just disenchanted. I think she just is that way and you’re trying to impose order on chaos, trying to find some reason for her method or madness. But you’re wrong. Luna, like the universe, tends toward entropy.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Come to prom with me, and we’ll debate it further.”

“So you’ll stick it to Luna by proving her right?”

“No. I’m sick of doing things because of how they look to other people. Come with me because I want you to. It’s only junior prom, but at least this way I’ll remember it fondly.”

I know we all say that we don’t care about appearances, that we shouldn’t. But appearances are social glue. Your standing, your job, your college acceptances; it’s all about how people perceive you. And when you can’t hold that together, when you can’t project the illusion of some conformity, you lose ground. People want to know where you stand.

So Jenny, the lowly sophomore, the girl who can’t seem to color in the lines no matter how she tries, will trot through the prom dog-and-pony show. She’ll carefully slip on an over-sized corsage and stilt-wobble out in a new pair of heels and endure the faux-romance of the “just friends” couple at prom. All because Tucker has unraveled so much that he can’t be worried about appearances.

So my weekend was spent with all three of us ignoring the obvious issues. Keeping up appearances, if you will. Luna offered to go dress shopping with me tomorrow. Peace offering or obvious condescension? Or a pointed "I don't care" statement?

Read more