So I’m someone’s girlfriend. I got the official fax.
It’s Monday, the first day back at school since my date with Evan, the first day interacting in person as boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s kind of surreal. We talked for two hours last night. That’s the longest I’ve ever spoken into a phone.
“So…,” I said. “I saw you called me your ‘gurl.’ ”
“Hell yeah I did,” he said. “Is that okay?”
I wished we’d talked about it first, but I didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a downer. So instead I overcompensated with “Oh yeah, totally!” and sounded really into it. I’m not good at this.
“Sweet,” he said. “I already told my mom you’re my girlfriend. Hope that’s all right.”
“Oh sure,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if it was sweet or disturbing. “I already told my stuffed turtle you’re my boyfriend. Hope that’s all right.”
“Is he jealous?”
“Nah, we already worked through all that in third grade, when I was crushing on my teacher, Mr. Lee.”
“TMI, girl.”
As I get off the bus this morning, Evan is there to greet me, immediately taking my hand in his. I’m so used to finding Leili and Azadeh first thing, but they aren’t here yet, and Evan is already walking into the school, which means I am too.
He walks me to my locker and makes jokes over my shoulder as I gather all the books I need.
“Hey, I had an idea,” he says. “Why don’t you do the announcements with me?”
My heartbeat quickens. I’m sure I’ve misheard him.
“That way we get to hang out longer.” He flashes me one of his patented puppy dog grins. “And look, I’m even asking first!”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah, consent is important.” I was trying to be funny, but it ended up sounding kind of serious.
“Right,” Evan says, not really sure what to do with that. “So, you down?”
A river of classmates flows past us.
Of course I’m down. I couldn’t be more down. I can’t believe it took him this long to ask again.
“Sure,” I say.
We hold hands as we walk to the office, the student population rapidly thinning as the clock ticks closer to homeroom.
“Oh, hello,” white-haired Ms. DiMicelli says as we enter. “You brought the angry dog girl again, wonderful.”
“Hi,” I say. “It’s actually Winnie.” Really gotta put an end to this Dog Girl business.
“Hi, Ms. DiMicelli,” Evan says, once again a sweet, all-American kiss-ass. “Winnie’s doing the announcements with me today.”
“You have approval from Mrs. Costa, I presume?”
“Of course!” Evan says, though I have no idea who Mrs. Costa is and I’m sure he hasn’t asked for her approval.
“Then it’s fine with me,” Ms. DiMicelli says, her attention already shifting elsewhere as she speaks into a phone at a fast, urgent clip.
“Welcome back,” curly-haired Ms. Moore says from her desk without looking at us as we weave our way over to the PA system.
Evan takes down the sheet of paper with the announcements on it and examines it. “So, you want to just alternate every other one?”
“Uh, sure, whatever you want,” I say. This time Evan’s kindly informed me what’s going to happen, but I still feel overwhelmed. Couldn’t he have asked me about this during our epically long phone call last night?
“Should we make out between announcements?” he asks, I hope quietly enough that the secretaries haven’t heard.
I just stare at him. I can’t tell if he’s kidding.
“That’s totally a joke,” he says three long seconds later. “Wow, would you have been down to do that?”
“Of course not, you maniac.”
The homeroom bell rings. Evan gets the Ms. DiMicelli nod, then turns to me. “You want to be the one to do the Pledge?”
“Of Allegiance?” I ask.
“Do you know another one?”
“Okay, sure, I’ll do it,” I say. “Is it written on the paper?”
“You don’t know the Pledge of Allegiance?”
“Time to get started,” Ms. DiMicelli says, and now Ms. Moore is actually looking up from her work for once, to see what the holdup is.
“Sorry about the delay,” Evan says, pushing the button and directing everyone to please stand for the Pledge. I assume this means he’s going to do it, until he throws me a nod and an inquisitive look. I nod back. I got this. I can do this.
So what if I can’t remember a single word of a pledge that I’ve recited every school day of my life?
My hands are shaking. My brain is a blank canvas. Evan is staring at me. I should have started by now.
Isn’t Pledge the name of a cleaning spray?
I put my right hand on my chest, in the hopes that it will trigger my memory.
“I…” Pledge! It’s a pledge! “…pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.” The sentence comes out in a garbled rush. Evan puts up a hand, like Slow it down. I nod and then realize I have no idea what comes next.
I will never again take the PA person’s Pledge guidance for granted.
I give Evan my Panic Eyes. I can’t tell if a few seconds have gone by or a whole minute, but he seems to be getting a huge kick out of it. He’s trying not to laugh as he attempts to help me, mouthing the beginning of the next line. Antu! Antu!
“Antu?” I whisper.
And to, he mouths emphatically.
“And to!” I say. World’s most atrocious game of charades.
Evan nods, and suddenly the rest of the Pledge is unspooling from my mouth, as if the knowledgeable brain cells have finally gained control of the ship’s helm. Evan is silently applauding me, which feels earned, as it seems like a small miracle that I made it through.
Then he dives into the announcements and, as discussed, we alternate. Evan spices his up with his little jokes and asides, but I’m too nervous to do anything except dryly read the words in front of me. I sound boring even to myself.
Be funny, I think. Be funny be funny be funny.
But then we’ve made it down to the bottom of the paper, and when I glance at the other side, it’s blank. Evan concludes with a “Have a stupendous day, everyone!”
He pushes the button, and the school is no longer able to hear us.
I had my shot and I blew it.
I beefed the Pledge of Allegiance.
“I couldn’t remember it,” I say. “I couldn’t remember the Pledge.”
“Aw, I know,” Evan says, wrapping me in a hug and kissing the top of my head. “That was pretty hilarious, but I bet nobody even noticed. I get it, you were nervous.”
“Maybe next time you want to study up on the Pledge first, sweetie,” Ms. Moore says. “Or print out a copy for yourself.”
I’m too mortified to respond.
But then I realize: I would have been prepared if someone had thought to inform me it would be happening.
“It’s not a big deal,” Evan says. I can’t begin to articulate the mix of shame and anger and sadness that’s swirling inside me, so I put my head down and walk out of the office.
“Hey, wait.” Evan catches up to me in the lobby, which is silent, since first period is about to start. “What’s— Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” I say without stopping.
Evan walks quickly to keep up with my pace. “Is this because of the Pledge? It really wasn’t that big a deal!”
I shrug. I’m embarrassed that I’m so frustrated, and that he’s seeing me so frustrated, and I just want to be in homeroom, no longer having this conversation.
“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?” Evan asks. “You seem kinda mad or something.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway. I grip my backpack straps.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Okay…,” Evan says, one eyebrow up. “So what’s the problem?”
Hmm. If we really are in a relationship, I should be able to tell him some version of the truth, right?
“I just…” Evan is giving me a wary look, like he’s worried he’s not going to like what I’m about to say. “I wish I had more time to— Like, I wish you’d told me about the Pledge last night so that I…”
“But it’s the Pledge. I figured you would know it.”
Well, I didn’t, okay? I want to shout. Because I guess I’m stupid about some stuff!
“I know,” I say. “I get…I get nervous sometimes.”
“Aw, girl, I’m sorry,” Evan says as he hugs me. He’s trying to be sweet, but it’s not what I need right now.
“So maybe…,” I say, the words sliding out almost involuntarily. “Maybe you don’t always need to throw me into these situations. It always feels like you’re testing me or something.”
Evan pulls back from the hug, his arms still on my shoulders. “What does that mean?”
His surprised reaction makes me suddenly question if maybe I’m the one overreacting. “No, I don’t know, like…last time we did the announcements. You didn’t tell me I would be a part of it until a second before it happened.”
Evan looks wounded, dropping his arms. “I already told you, I was trying to surprise you. I knew you’d be great.”
“No, I know, but…” I’ve never had a boyfriend before, maybe this is just what it’s like.
“Everybody loved what you did on the announcements that morning.” I can’t help but hear it as a contrast to this morning. “And I thought you felt good about it too.”
“I did, yes, but—”
The homeroom bell rings. We’re both late, but Evan gives no indication that he’s going anywhere. “When else have I thrown you into a situation?” he asks, making finger quotes around thrown you into a situation.
I’m not a fan of finger quotes.
And at the moment, I can’t think of other examples of him doing this, even though I’m quite sure there are some.
“If I’m just forcing you to do all this stuff, then say you don’t want to do it.”
“You’re not forcing me,” I say.
“Well, that’s not what you just said.” Why, hello there, Reason I Never Brought This Up Earlier. Part of me is annoyed that he’s reacting this way, but another part wonders if some of the blame lies with me and wants to calm the situation down.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”
“Do you two have somewhere to be?”
We turn to see our freakishly tall principal, Mr. Bettis, hands in his pockets, handsome and empty-headed as ever.
“Oh, uh, yessir,” Evan says. “We just did the announcements, so we were discussing how it went.”
“Oh, that was you?” Mr. Bettis leans his head back, like he’s only now seeing us clearly. “You both did a wonderful job. Terrific diction.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to smile that he just complimented our diction.
“I’d say the only spot for improvement was the Pledge.” My stomach lurches. “Which of you did that?” He’s asking to be polite, but obviously it was me, the female with the feminine voice.
I slowly raise a hand.
“Ah yes,” Mr. Bettis says. “The rhythms were a little off. A bit glitchy.”
Glitchy?
“She’s still getting her sea legs,” Evan says. I would have preferred I asked her last-minute so she had no time to prep, but it’s better than nothing.
“Well, kudos to both of you. Now why don’t you head on over to first period?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Evan says.
“Thanks,” I say again, not even sure what I’m thanking him for.
We stride down the hallway side by side. Evan’s looking straight ahead, obviously still frustrated by our conversation. I am very good at being in a relationship. Only took me a day to completely eff it up.
As my homeroom comes into view, and we’re out of sight of Mr. Bettis, I decide to speak, since Evan clearly isn’t going to. “Hey, I’m sorry I said that stuff. That wasn’t entirely fair.”
“Did you think I was forcing you to go to the movies, too?” He’s still not looking at me.
“No, of course not,” I say. He’s taking this harder than I would have expected. I’m actually starting to feel bad for him. “I think you misinterpreted what I said.” I’m choosing my words very carefully. “I really like hanging out with you, and I’m so glad you asked me to do the announcements.” Evan finally looks at me. “I would just love more of a heads-up next time.”
Evan smiles. “So you’re basically saying we had a fight because you couldn’t remember the Pledge.”
That’s not how I would characterize the situation, but okay. At least he’s not pouting anymore. “I’m saying we had a fight because our love triangle with Ms. DiMicelli is starting to stress me out.”
Evan laughs. “I choose you, okay? Ms. DiMicelli is a thing of the past.” He stops and takes my hands, and we’re right back where we were first thing this morning, as if the fight never even happened. “So, Winnie Friedman, I would like to officially invite you to do the announcements again with me tomorrow. How’s that for a heads-up?”
“Hey, that was really good. I’m proud of you,” I say. “I would love to.” I’m gonna get a chance to redeem myself after this morning’s shit-show! Hallelujah.
“Awesome. Then I shall catch you later.” Evan leans toward me, and I realize a second before his lips touch mine that he’s about to kiss me. In school.
It’s just a peck on the lips, but still. We’re suddenly the couple fighting and kissing goodbye in the hallway. Who even am I?
“You’re late,” Mr. Novack says from his perch on the front of his desk as I step gingerly into class. I’m realizing I ran out of the office so fast I forgot to get a late pass.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, the entire class staring at me. “I was…doing the morning announcements.”
“That was you who bungled the Pledge?”
A few of my classmates snicker. Of course I have homeroom with the most Pledge-obsessed teacher of all time. I look down. I want to cry.
“Okay,” Mr. Novack says, moving on before I can answer, a rare graceful gesture, “take your seat. We have a lot to get through this morning.”
At my desk, I listen to Mr. Novack drone on about the way revenge functions in the plot of Tess of the d’Urbervilles, and my brain has chosen this moment to feel bad that I didn’t get to see Leili and Azadeh this morning. I know they’ll understand, but it’s such a regular part of my routine, it feels like I left the house without getting dressed. I pretend to be reaching down into my bag for a pen and surreptitiously rattle off a text to them.
Someone clears his throat behind me.
I turn to see Fletcher at his desk wagging his finger back and forth like an old schoolmarm.
I narrow my eyes at him.
He slowly shakes his head, in this way that’s so intense, I end up smiling.
An eternity later, Mr. Novack’s voice is finally done filling the room, and I’m about to peek into my bag to see if Leili and Azadeh have texted back when Fletcher appears beside me.
“Flying close to the sun, Friedman,” he says as we walk into the hallway.
“It’s not what you think,” I say.
“You weren’t reaching into your bag to text during class?” He hasn’t cracked a smile, still pretending to be angry.
“No, I was, uh, feeding my pet baby chick.”
Fletcher’s face finally relaxes. “Oh, why didn’t you say so? I love baby chicks.”
“Me too. How was your weekend?” Seamlessly shifting from a joke into actual conversation is one of my favorite things.
“Chill. Boring. Worked a lot.” Fletcher takes a pack of Fruit Stripe gum out of his pocket and unwraps a piece before folding it into his mouth. “You want?”
I stare at the zebra on the package. He’s playing soccer. “I haven’t had Fruit Stripe since I was, like, six. The flavor goes away so quickly.”
“I know, but it’s damn good while it lasts.”
I shrug and take a piece. It’s zigzagged with blue zebra stripes, and he’s right, that first moment of chewing is pretty damn good.
“See?” Fletcher says, as enthusiastic as I’ve ever seen him. “That first burst is undeniable.”
“I think I’m ready to spit it out now.”
Fletcher laughs. “Thought maybe you and your dad would come into the store again.”
“Oh. Yeah. No.” Mom insisted on doing the food shopping this weekend. Dad wanted to, but she thought he needed another week to get the hang of walking with his cane. I can’t say I disagreed; watching my father fall at Stop & Shop two weeks in a row is not my idea of a good time. “We didn’t want my dad to fall again.”
“Word. I get that.”
“Yeah.”
“Is he all right, by the way?”
I lift my shoulders. “Eh.”
“I don’t mean to get all in your business.”
“No, it’s fine.” I actually mean that. And before I even know what I’m doing, I tell him. “He has ALS.”
“Oh shit, seriously? That’s, like, Lou Gehrig’s disease, right?”
I nod.
“That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
He says it with so much genuine empathy that my eyes are suddenly wet. Damn you, Fletcher Handy.
“My uncle died from cancer,” he says. “Two years ago.”
It shouldn’t make me feel better—cancer and ALS have nothing to do with each other, and why would I want to hear about someone dying right now—but for some reason, it’s a calming reminder that everyone has pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That sucks.”
Fletcher pops another piece of Fruit Stripe into his mouth as we walk in silence. I’m tempted to say something else to fill the dead air, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so I don’t.
Leili and Azadeh don’t seem mad about me not seeing them this morning, but not to worry, there’s tension at our table anyway.
Azadeh and Roxanne are doing their laughing thing again.
They’re leaning into each other and nudging knees under the table. Leili is quietly eating her feta flatbread sandwich while Evan and I try to figure out what’s so funny.
It came out of nowhere. We were all talking about how Principal Bettis’s pants never seem to fit him right, and then Roxanne looked at Azadeh for a second, and they lost it. It’s disorienting. I’m used to decoding Azadeh and Leili’s nonverbal twinspeak, but this language I’m not fluent in.
“Wow, hard-core giggle fit,” Evan says, which is like pouring gasoline onto a fire, the giggle flames climbing higher. Like last time, Azadeh and Roxanne are simultaneously cute—they clearly like being together—and annoying. Ol’ Tattoo Shirt is absent today, but I almost wish he weren’t. He could be an irritating counterbalance.
“Yeah,” I say, trying and failing to make eye contact with Leili, who’s staring across the room. “Save some laughs for the rest of us.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Azadeh says, pulling herself together. “It’s not even that funny.”
“Is it about that thing Siobhan on the field hockey team does?” Leili asks while looking at the table. Her sarcasm levels are off the charts.
“Wait…what’s up?” Azadeh asks, her love bubble momentarily pierced.
“Nothing’s up,” Leili says. “I’m great.”
“Okay,” Azadeh says, sharing a look with Roxanne like Uh, she definitely doesn’t seem great. I feel a pang of jealousy, a small taste of what Leili might be feeling, as I’m usually the person Azadeh looks to in those moments. “Well, it’s really not a big deal.”
“Okay,” Leili says. “I didn’t say it was.”
I want to jump in on her behalf, but again, taking sides with the twins has always come back to bite me in the butt.
“Great then,” Azadeh says. “So. It’s not a big deal.”
We’re all silent.
“Whatever, fine,” Leili says, packing what’s left of her lunch back in the sleek purple lunchbox she always uses. “I’m gonna go. I have yearbook stuff to do anyway.”
I can’t remember a single other time Leili has left lunch early.
“You’re leaving?” Azadeh says. “Because we laughed?”
“I just feel bad for Siobhan,” Leili says, even more sarcastic than last time, and man, she can really turn the knife when she wants to. I’m expecting Azadeh to say something else, to tell her to stay, but she just makes her offended face.
So I’ll be the one. “Leili, stay.”
Leili looks at me for the first time since the giggles. “What do you care?”
I stare back at her with an open mouth.
“See what I mean?” Leili says before swinging her backpack over her shoulders and walking away.
“What? Of course I care!” I shout at her back, too late.
I should follow her. I know I need to.
Across the table, Azadeh and Roxanne are speaking in hushed tones. Leili is almost at the far cafeteria door.
Maybe she needs the time alone. I mean, sure, the laughing was annoying, but I get the excitement of being in a new relationship, and maybe Leili could be a little more understanding. And furthermore, I’ve had a hard morning too, majorly beefing the announcements. I mean, I said antu! As if it were a real word!
So I don’t follow.
When I turn my attention back to the table, Evan is cracking up at some video on his phone. “Yo, check this out,” he says, “they’re pranking this girl by replacing the frosting on her cupcake with wasabi.”
I already regret my decision.