October 19
Twenty-Four Years Ago
7:00 P.M.
Leo followed Mish and Brooks as they led the way to the food court. Mish and Brooks each had a hand in the other’s back pocket, so they were cupping each other’s butts as they walked. Why was that even allowed in public? Leo cringed to see it but she was jealous too, of course.
David Griffin was leaning against the wall near the hot dog and lemonade stand when they got there. Leo recognized him now. He was not the cute Dave. He was a little on the short side, with cropped dark hair and a wide grin. He was the guy who was forever walking down hallways and flipping up cheerleaders’ skirts.
“Hey, hey,” he said, when he saw them. “Birthday girl, huh?” he said, turning to Leo.
“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks,” she added, even though, technically, he hadn’t wished her a happy birthday, just stated the fact. It would be something she would remember later, that he’d been a creep from the start.
“Let’s get a picture!” said Mish, who appeared to be determined to record every awkward moment of this day.
Leo grimaced as Dave put his arm around her.
“Sweet sixteen. Tell me, how sweet is it?” he said, wagging his eyebrows as if he were funny or clever.
Leo glanced at Mish, who rolled her eyes. “Dave, don’t be gross,” said Mish. Leo extracted herself from his embrace. Mish put away her camera.
“You guys hungry?” asked Brooks hopefully.
“Not yet,” said Mish, even though Leo could have used a little snack.
She spoke up then, and internally chastised herself for being so quiet. Leo did that sometimes, let Mish run everything. “Actually, I could eat something.”
“Oh,” said Mish. “Okay, what do you want?”
“Anything,” said Leo. “Whatever.” Her boldness went only so far; she was back to being agreeable.
Dave made it clear he found this indecision boring and turned to talk to Brooks about an upcoming lacrosse game, which he kept calling “lax” to be cool.
“Pretzels?” asked Brooks, who had been paying attention to the girls’ conversation after all.
“Sure,” said Leo, determined to be amiable even as she did the food math of pretzels = carbs = fat. The modeling scout had ordered her to lose weight, but she could start next week maybe.
They went and got pretzels from one of the concessions, and sat down at a table to eat. Dave didn’t seem that interested in her, and the feeling was mutual. Brooks appeared a little tense, not relaxed like he usually was around them. Like he was trying to be more of a guy’s guy because Dave was there. Usually he gossiped with them about everything that was happening in school.
Mish wasn’t having it either. This birthday was turning out to be a bit of a dud. I’m sorry, she mouthed.
It’s okay, Leo mouthed back. She took a bite of her pretzel because she was hungry, but it tasted leaden in her mouth.
“Brooks, can I talk to you?” asked Mish, pulling him away from the table.
“Sure, babe.”
They left Dave and Leo alone at the table. Leo had no idea what to say to him, not that she didn’t know how to talk to boys. She talked to Arnold a lot. Except she didn’t really consider Arnold a boy, per se, he was just Arnold. Mostly, Arnold listened. Leo thought most people would choose David Griffin over Arnold Dylan any day. Dave had that clean-cut all-American look, while Arnold looked, well, dirty. Like a little filthy, like he lived on the streets, which he had to sometimes.
Dave continued to eat his pretzel in big, wolfy bites and ignored her. She took a little bite of hers. “Have you always played lacrosse?” she asked politely, to break the silence.
He shrugged. “I guess. I play soccer too. And baseball. But I had to choose a spring sport, so I chose lax.”
“What position do you play?” asked Leo, who had no idea what kind of positions there were.
“Lead attack,” he said smugly, although it meant nothing to Leo.
“Cool,” she said.
“Damn straight it is,” he said.
The conversation went like that: one-sided; he never asked her any questions about herself. Not even if she’d ever seen a lacrosse game, which she had. Mish dragged her to watch Brooks sometimes.
There were twenty players on the Arlington lacrosse team and any one of them would have been preferable to David Griffin. Noah Limerick, for instance, had a sweet smile, or Josh Pierce, who had a goofy sense of humor, or even Kurt Evans, Ryan Jones, or Patrick Ortega, who were all catalog-handsome.
Leo hoped Mish and Brooks would come back to the table soon. When they finally did, Leo tried not to look too relieved.
Dave got up. “Dude, I’m going to jam.”
“Yeah?” asked Brooks.
“Yeah, I gotta meet everyone at Stacey’s,” he told them. “You’ll be there, right?”
Brooks looked to Mish.
Mish shook her head.
“Okay, man, your loss,” said Dave. He slapped Brooks’s back and nodded to Mish. He didn’t even say goodbye to Leo.
Mish took a deep breath. “You know what we need?” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“What?” asked Leo.
“Drinks. Come on. It’s time we got this party started for real.”