The Book - E Lockhart

I pulled back. “I can’t.”

He stroked my hair. “Why not? If things are going that way, like you said.”

“I get panic attacks,” I said, shifting myself away. “Do you know what those are?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“I have to see a shrink because I freak out about stuff,” I said. “And I’ve been trying to figure out why I do things, and why I feel like I feel, and how I ended up not having any friends for such a long time.”

He looked at me as if asking me to go on.

“And I just last month made up with Nora, and she finally wants to be friends with me after everything that happened, and, well—we have a code.”

“Like what?”

“Like we can’t take up with a guy if someone else likes him first.”

Noel paused. And then said: “I see.”

“She’s my friend, and I don’t want to lose her like I lost Kim and Cricket, and I’m trying to figure out how to be a good person, and it doesn’t always come naturally to me.”

“I think you’re a good person,” said Noel.

“Sometimes I am,” I answered. “And this is one of those times.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m really sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything else to do.” I stood up. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You probably should.”

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I turned and walked out the door.

Tuesday, I went to school with The Boy Book wrapped in some old Santa Claus paper. On it was a note I had written:

Dear Kim,

We were friends once.

I doubt we’ll be friends again. Too much has happened. But maybe we can remember what it used to be like without such a ginormous quantity of bitterness.

So I want you to have this book.

I was telling you the truth the other day. I know sometimes I am sour mean bitter breakup lady, but sometimes I am also loyal truth-telling lady who messes in business that’s not her own. But only because she really can’t stand it when bad stuff is going on.

Anyway.

Here’s The Boy Book.

Brava for Kaptain Kangaroo. May she rest in peace.

—Roo

I left it in her mail cubby, though I had to squash it in order to get it in. It was easier than giving it to her in person.

And I felt relieved.

Like that whole era of my life was over.

Like The Boy Book and everything it stood for—me, Nora and Cricket and Kim—was done with. And the thoughts inside it too.

Some of them were worth remembering. The front-close bra and not sunbathing topless and the clever comebacks to catcalls. But most of it was in the past.

It was a document of how I used to think. When I was, sort of, someone else.

The Girl Book: A Disorganized Notebook of Thoughts, with No Particular Purpose, Written Purely for the Benefit of Me, Ruby Oliver, and My Mental Health

Nancy Drews.

That is, things I am good at. 1

1. The backstroke. Not great, but decent and getting better.

2. Talking. I’m like my mom that way.

3. Making lists. I really could medal in this one.

4. Movies. Remembering trivia and being able to say semi-intelligent stuff about cinema when called upon to do so.

5. Getting animals to like me. And not being afraid of them.

6. Reading mystery novels. Which is not that hard. But I do it fast.

7. Writing stuff down in such a way that it is at least moderately amusing.

8. School, generally. With the exception of math, which, if I am honest, I just don’t care about at all.

9. Painting pictures of animals that semi-resemble the actual animal that I am trying to paint. Human bodies still elude me, as proven by multiple attempts in Advanced Painting Elective—and my landscapes suck, as do my pictures of fruit. But when I paint something by myself, from a photo in one of my animal books or just from memory, it comes out pretty good. Not that I do it that often.

10. I am good at giving presents.

11. And finding clothes in vintage shops.

12. And being a good friend. At least, I am getting better.

—written by me, Ruby Oliver, all by myself. Exact date: November 21, junior year.

meghan broke up with Bick at Thanksgiving. He cried and begged her not to.

It was very satisfying to hear about, but Meghan was sad. Because she loves him. But she told him that the long-distance thing, whether they were faithful or taking it one day at a time, was making her insane. And she hated thinking that she had to go to college in Boston, when she might want to go somewhere and study singing, or skip college and train to be a yoga teacher, or go to school somewhere warm by the beach. And she didn’t actually think they’d ever get married, and she didn’t want to think about getting married now anyway, and there wasn’t any point to it anymore.

She couldn’t live her life in Seattle with her heart and mind at Harvard, she told him.

Nora and I took her out for espresso milk shakes to make her feel better. Then we went and saw a big cheesy movie with alien invaders, and slept over at the Van Deusens’. 2

Kim said thank you for The Boy Book, and we had a little fake hug, and then went back to pretty much ignoring each other, only now we said hi in the halls and I could go to parties without angsting that something awful would happen. She and Cricket became fully enmeshed in the Katarina-Heidi-Ariel set, and Nora stayed on the fringes, mainly hanging out with me and Meghan.

Kim and Jackson stayed together. What I heard from Nora (who made up with Kim quickly after Canoe Island) was that Kim confronted him, and there was really quite a scene, but he broke things off with the zoo girl and told Kim he was incredibly sorry and had just been so confused and lonely that he’d made a big mistake. And he wrote her notes and gave her a Hello Kitty lunch box and a cashmere sweater. So she forgave him.

I never told her about the notes he wrote me, or how he invited me to Kyle’s party.

I decided it wasn’t my business to tell.

And besides, Jackson was fully cured of his tendency to flirt with me or try to get me to forgive him, or whatever it was, by the obvious fact that it was I who spilled the beans to his girlfriend about his stepping out with the zoo girl.

Things were awkward between me and Noel for a few weeks, but after that it got a little better. We stayed Chem lab partners, but he stopped sending me e-mails. We ate lunch together on the Chemistry days, but we always found other people to sit with, too. Sometimes he came out to the movies with me and Meghan and Nora, but we never went anywhere alone, and we never talked on the phone. The Hooter Rescue Squad was officially defunct.

I never told Nora what happened when I went to his house with the CD.

Noel didn’t like Nora, not that way. She would sometimes sit next to him on purpose, or look at him for a long time like she wasn’t keeping track of the lunch conversation, and I could tell she still liked him.

Besides which, she told me she did. She said he was interesting, and funny, and she liked the way his hair stood up.

And I had to agree.

She said he was outside the Tate Universe, at least more than everyone else was, and that the guys at Tate were generally too pigheaded and sexist. And even those who weren’t were manly-manly preppy future doctors of America.

Muffins.

Which was true.

But Nora never got the courage to ask Noel out. When I hinted around about it, she kept saying she would. But then she didn’t. A senior from the basketball team tried to scam on her at a party Heidi Sussman had in early December. Nora kissed the guy for a short time in the kitchen, but then she complained she was tired and went home, never to really deal with him again.