Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“Moving at fast-forward? I feel like I’m the one stuck on PAUSE while everyone else makes these epic future plans. You’re going to Mizzou to be a doctor and Kendall wants to go back to New York. I’ve got nothing except soccer, maybe. I’m going to end up as that girl who peaked in high school.”

“You’ll have epic future plans someday too,” Bee says. “You just have to figure out what you want to do. And if you don’t get a scholarship, then you can play wherever as a freshman and try get a scholarship somewhere bigger the following year.”

“You think?” I never thought about doing it that way, working my way up from a small school to a larger one. And then I realize I’ve made this conversation all about me. I have a feeling I do that a lot. “Forget it. What about Leo? You want me to tell him to hold off? He’s a good guy. I don’t want to see him get crushed.”

Bee giggles again. “I’m not sure if it makes sense for me to start dating someone now, but I’ll talk to him next time we work together. You know, if you and Micah would just admit you’re still crazy about each other, then the four of us could all hang out.”

“Micah is not crazy about me.” I shudder. “He won’t even look at me. He looks through me now. I’d say he even hates me, except that would require actual emotion on his part, and I’m pretty sure I don’t rate that much.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe it. I bet he’s miserable too. But if you want him, you might have to fight for him.”

I let my head fall to the tabletop. “For the love of all that is dead and Chinese, please, no more fighting. This army needs a break.”

“Forget The Art of War ,” Bee says. “Use ‘The Art of Lainey.’”

I peek up at her. “I’m pretty sure that book will not be getting published anytime soon.” But she’s right. It’s like I told Leo. I need to work with what I’ve got . . . even if I don’t know exactly what that is. The good news is I can’t really mess things up worse than I already have. “But what if I can’t fix things?”

I fully expect Bee to go into cheerleader mode, to tell me I’m being dramatic, that everything is fixable. She definitely takes a Disney-movie view of the world most days. But today she surprises me. “At least you’ll know you tried,” she says. “And then we’ll go run until you’re too tired to hurt. And then we’ll get ice cream.” She smiles again. “But only one scoop.”

Aweek passes. It’s Friday night again, maybe the first Friday night of the summer that I don’t have plans. Kendall hasn’t called me since the blowup at Beat. Pretty sure she’s waiting for me to apologize for calling her a bitch. I’m still pissed over that crack about not being able to defend myself. Standing up for yourself is about more than flinging barbed-wire insults around. It’s about picking your battles, knowing when to fight, knowing exactly what and who is worth fighting for. If only I had figured that out a little bit earlier.

I’m out in the backyard with my soccer ball. It stormed all day so the grass is wet and the ground is soft. Mud spatters up on my shins as I dribble the ball around a trio of weirdo totem poles my mom just got from some online hippie warehouse. They remind me of the tribal masks I hung up at the coffee shop. I swear there is no escaping the creepy leering faces around here.

I cut around the third totem like it’s a defender and shoot the ball at the back door. Goal. I’ve been practicing soccer a lot. Maybe I am good enough to score a Division I scholarship. So what if it’s not Northwestern? It would be cool to go to Mizzou with Bee. It’s worth a try.

Things are almost back to normal at work. By normal, I mean how they were at the beginning of the summer, when Micah and I had nothing to say to each other. My insides feel like someone is processing them in the bean grinder every time we cross paths so I’ve been staying out front as much as possible. I tried to talk to him twice—I swear I did—but the first time I trapped him in the manager’s office and he looked so uncomfortable that I just let him go. I remember thinking: Do not pursue an enemy who simulates flight. Yeah, it’s like The Art of War has become part of me. Even when I’m not thinking about it, I use it.

The second time I ran into him outside after a shift. He was leaning against the Beast smoking a cigarette and I thought maybe he was waiting for me. But before I could even make it across the parking lot, he got a phone call. I could sense it was her—Amber. I passed him up, went straight to the Civic.

But he smiled when he answered his phone. I saw that much from the safety of my car.

Which I guess will be my brother’s car again soon. As much as I’ll miss it, it’ll be good to have Steve back.

My phone buzzes on the picnic table.

911. Call me.

It’s a text from Bianca. I’m pretty sure I’ve never gotten a 911 from Bee before. She just isn’t dramatic like me. I call her back and she picks up on the first ring.

“Is everyone okay? Your grandmother?”

“No, no everyone’s fine,” Bee says. “It’s Leo.”

“What about him?”

She swears in Spanish. “He’s picking me up in two hours. We’re going to Tony’s.”

“ The Tony’s?” I whistle. “Nice.” I’m wondering if Leo is blowing all the money I just returned to him on one date. Talk about aiming to impress.

“I know,” Bee says. “But it’s our first real date and that place is so elegant. Everything I try on makes me look fat and my hair is extra huge since it rained earlier and I look so terrible I’m thinking about canceling.”

She sounds close to tears. Bianca is always the one calming everyone else down. Who would’ve guessed she couldn’t work the same magic on herself?

“Relax,” I say. “Remember the dress you wore to the state championship dinner? The navy blue one with the sequined shoulder straps?”

“Yeah.”

“Wear that.”

A pause. Deep breath. “You don’t think it’s too short for a fancy restaurant?”

“Nah. Wear flats if you’re worried about it.”

“Good idea. Now if I only knew what to do about my hair.”

“Why don’t you come over?” I suggest. “I’ll plug in my flat iron and we can tame it down a little.”

“Really?” Bee sounds so hopeful. “Don’t you have plans tonight?”

Plans. Let’s see. Micah isn’t talking to me. Kendall isn’t talking to me. The two people who still are talking to me are going out for a romantic dinner together. My parents have a better social life than I do. “My plans are to live vicariously through you,” I say. “I’ll be waiting.”

Bianca shows up about twenty minutes later in her navy blue dress. It hugs her curves in all the right places, but the humidity from the afternoon storm has made her hair twice as big as normal. I go after it with my flat iron, keeping the heat on low so it takes out some of the body but doesn’t completely obliterate her thick waves.

“You are a lifesaver,” Bee says, watching her hair return to normal size in the mirror. “Will you do my makeup too?”

“Sure.” I dig through my top drawer where I keep all my cosmetics. “So. Tony’s, eh? Pretty swank for a first date. I don’t even think my parents can afford that place. Is that why you’re so nervous? Thought you weren’t even sure if you wanted to date Leo.”

Bianca blushes. “Well, we’ve been talking on the phone for the past few days. You’re right. He is kind of funny. And smart. And it turns out he’s thinking about going to Mizzou too.”