I wake up late on Saturday—it’s almost noon by the time I roll out of bed. My body clock has already adapted to a summer schedule. It’s sunny, one of those warm, breezy June days that make you glad to be alive and out of school for the summer. When I get downstairs, the light above the basement door is on. I don’t think it’s been off for the last two days. I know Dad’s still alive because he leaves dirty dishes in the sink, but I haven’t seen him since we had our stew dinner together. He’s left me two sticky notes on the fridge. One, left yesterday, said Plz p/u milk and had a ten-dollar bill attached to it. He likes lots of milk in his coffee. I walked down to the corner mini-mart to get it for him and spent the change on chips. Today’s note says Don’t frgt to mow with a smiley face drawn under it.
The lawn is my job. I mow it once a week during the summer, and I get ten bucks a pop. Keeps me in Twizzlers. And Dad thinks it teaches me about responsibility. Who knows, maybe it does.
After a brunch of cereal and a banana, I go out to the garage and get the mower. It’s already hot out, and the sun beats down on the top of my head. The lawn doesn’t look too bad—it won’t take long. That’s good, because tonight’s Lara’s thing, and I want time to get ready. I usually don’t give much thought to what I wear, but I know I’ll try on five different T-shirts before I hit the right one for tonight.
My phone vibrates just as I’m finishing the lawn. It’s Charlie. He’s texting to see what time he should be ready.
Crap.
It’s not like Lara even invited Charlie. I mean, he just happened to be there when she invited me. And none of my daydreams about how the party is going to go involve Charlie standing around drooling while I put the moves on Lara.
Still, he’s my best friend. He stood up for me in fourth grade, when Ben Anderson decided to start his career as class bully with me as his first victim. When Amy Winters broke my heart in sixth grade, he told her that Donny Morris, the guy she ditched me for, cheated on her. Last year, when I thought I was going to flunk Algebra II, he explained how to solve linear equations over and over until I got it.
Part of me wants to ignore the text, just pretend I never got it, but I know I can’t. I do a quick revision in my head of all the scenes of the party I’ve imagined so far, and add Charlie. It’s not quite the same imagining me and Lara and Charlie hanging out on her sofa, listening to music, while all the rest of the people at the party just fade into the background. It doesn’t work quite as well when I lean in for that kiss if Charlie’s grinning at the two of us like a loon.
Nothing to be done about it, though. I text Charlie and tell him to meet me at the bus stop at seven thirty.
I shower—the longest shower ever, I think—and shave, even though there’s not much to shave yet. After several tries I find just the right combination of jeans and a T-shirt. Once I’m happy with my look, I head downstairs to make a sandwich.
The light is still on above the basement door, and the generator is humming away. I grab the peanut butter from the cupboard and slather some on a slice of bread. There’s an apple left in the fruit bowl, and I eat that too. It’s seven fifteen; almost time to go. I know better than to disturb Dad, so I go to the fridge to write him a note and find one he’s left me, sometime between when I went out to mow and now. It says Have a good time—be careful. Home by eleven.
My hopes of getting out of the house without a clear curfew crumble. Eleven! That’s so lame. I draw a frowny face under his note and write Eleven?! Love you anyway. See you tomorrow. Although knowing him, he’ll probably choose tonight to wait up for me.
Charlie is standing at the bus stop. He waves when I’m still half a block away, and jumps up and down a little. I duck my head and grin. What a goof. I’m glad I didn’t pretend not to get his text, even though he’s bound to throw some sort of wrench in my plan to get next to Lara.
“Dude,” he says once I reach the stop.
“Uh-huh?” I take in his Death Cab for Cutie T-shirt and his khakis. Red high-tops finish off the look. If I was hoping for Charlie to wear something sort of normal, I was wasting my time.
“I figured you’d pretend you never got my text.”
I try to look like he’s crazy. “Would I do that?”
Charlie just laughs. The bus pulls up and we climb aboard.
“Who else do you think is coming?” Charlie raises his voice in order to be heard above the bus engine.
I shrug. I’ve been so focused on the fact that Lara invited me that I haven’t even thought of who else she’s invited.
“I bet Morris will be there.” Charlie knows I still harbor a grudge against Donny, ever since he stole my girlfriend in sixth grade. Okay, it was just sixth grade and barely even counted, but even so. “He’s always checking Lara out in chem lab.”
I hate to admit it, but I saw that too. It was almost like sixth grade repeating itself, except that Lara didn’t seem to be interested in Donny, even though now he’s the quarterback for the stupid football team. Chem lab had been a sort of sweet torture, watching Lara from three stations behind, wishing I could get up the guts to ask to be part of her group for the final project, knowing I never would. At least Donny hadn’t either.
“Man, I guess I should have brought my jacket.” Charlie’s voice brought me back from my reverie.
“What do you mean? It’s . . .” I was about to say “It’s an awesome day,” but when I look out the bus window, I see what Charlie means. There’s a mean-looking storm cloud far off in the distance. It will take a while to reach us, but by the time the party’s over I bet it will be pouring rain. I didn’t bring a jacket either.
“Oh, well,” says Charlie. “We can steal Donny’s jacket.” He grins.
“Listen, Charlie.” I’m not sure how to get my point across without hurting his feelings. “Not sayin’ it will happen, but if by some miracle I get next to Lara . . .”
Charlie looks at me blankly, waiting for more. I can’t think how to put it in a delicate way. “I mean, if we were to, you know. . .”
“You mean you don’t want me around you at the party?” He looks a little hurt.
“It’s not that I don’t want you around . . .”
Charlie starts laughing. “Got ya.” He shakes his head at me. “Dude. Like I’m gonna hang on you if you get a chance with her? Tell me you know me better than that by now.”
Charlie may be a pain in the ass sometimes. But he’s still my best friend, you know?