Chapter 8
My white iPod headphones were plugged into my ears as I sobbed silently to my most depressing playlist. I was seated in the window seat with my legs pulled up to my chest, staring at the clouds as the plane moved farther and farther from home.
The thoughts of everything I would be missing swirled in my head. What if I came back and Emily and Madison had formed this tight bond with no room left for me? What if it’s the greatest party of our lifetime and they have all these inside jokes I don’t understand? What if they get boyfriends and no longer want to hang out with a single loser?
Truthfully, none us of had ever had a real boyfriend. The last boys we dated were in fifth and sixth grades, and they didn’t count. It was more like everyone in our class thought we were supposed to be dating, so we all paired up in matching couples—one girl for every boy. But we didn’t hold hands, hang out or even speak to each other in person. It was too embarrassing.
Since we got to high school, we hadn’t really met too many guys worth pursuing. And there were certainly no guys pursuing us. Not that we hung out with people outside the walls of Spring Mills. All of our free time was spent happily dedicated to ballet, which didn’t introduce us to very many boys. It was hard to make new friends, but to be honest, I would rather have two great friends I could trust with my life than a flock of so-called “friends” to occasionally hang out with but who would stab me in the back the moment the opportunity arose.
Now I was going to Puerto Rico where I had no one but my brother. And considering this whole mess was his fault, I wasn’t currently placing him on my list of allies.
“Mariana, come on. Stop crying,” Vince whispered, nudging my elbow with his.
I continued staring out the window and pretended not to hear him.
“I don’t get why you’re acting like this is the end of the world. Do you realize how awesome this is gonna be? Trust me, it’ll be a lot more fun than if you stayed in crappy old Spring Mills.” He yanked my headphone cords until the earbuds fell from my lobes.
“God, that’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it? Vince, you’re going off to college in September. Your life in Spring Mills is over.You don’t care what happens there. Great,” I snapped, my head jerking to face him. “But mine isn’t.”
“So? You miss one party. Trust me, there are going to be others. Heck, your sixteenth birthday is in October. You can have a huge blowout then and put Madison’s to shame. I mean, do you think that much is gonna change in two months?” he scoffed, as he flipped through the latest Sky Mall magazine.
“Vince, how long did you go out with Suzy Taylor?”
“Two months,” he mumbled.
“And when she slept with Sam Jenkins and the whole school found out, did it not bother you because it was only two months? Because nothing happened during those two months? Because those two months were no big deal?”
Vince didn’t answer, not that I expected him to.
“A lot can happen. And regardless, who wants to go home feeling like an outsider in their own life?” I asked, shaking my head.
“You’re never gonna be an outsider with Emily and Madison. Come on, you guys practically communicate telepathically.”
It was exhausting trying to explain how I felt to a boy who was not at all empathetic. I closed my eyes and let the buzzing of the plane’s wing fill my head.
“Mariana, we are going to have fun.”
“You don’t know that,” I whispered as I opened my eyelids and smoothed my palms over my messy red hair. “You have no idea what it’s gonna be like there. We might be the only people under eighty-five.”
“So, we’ll make new friends.”
“You’ll make new friends. It’s easier for boys,” I said, my fingers fidgeting.
“It can be easy for you, too. Maybe now that you’re surgically removed from Emily and Madison you’ll actually talk to . . . other people,” he said dramatically, raising his hands and wiggling his fingers in front of his face like a low-budget magician.
“Vince, seriously, now is not the best time to be giving me attitude.” I returned my gaze to the clouds outside my window.
“Dude, right here, right now. As you cry your little eyes out, I predict that you are going to have the best summer of your life—way better than any stupid party. I predict that in two months, when we’re back on this plane, you’re gonna be crying that you have to leave Puerto Rico,” Vince said, slamming the tray table in front of him for emphasis.
“Yeah, what do you think this is? Dirty Dancing?” I asked. “That stuff doesn’t happen in real life.”
I popped my earbuds back in and tuned my brother out.