Cracked Up To Be

He hands the phone to me. I give him a death glare.

"Hi, Mom."

"Why couldn't you ask me that yourself?" she demands.

"I don't know. But I got a hundred percent on my math test."

"Are you being serious or are you joking?"

"I'm not joking. I can show you the test later tonight."

"You're not going to be drinking over there or anything, are you?"

"No, Mom. Chris said his parents will be there."

"Well, you know the Ellorys. They may be there, but they're not--"

"Okay, forget it. I'll see you after school." Yes.

"No, no, no," she says quickly. "Go and have a good time. I'm proud of you, Parker--for the test. And I didn't know you and Chris were still on speaking terms. That's good--these are good things. Go have fun. Your father and I love you."

I close my eyes. "Bye."

FOURTEEN

I can't figure out what's stopping me from just ditching Chris, Becky and Jake and going home while they stand in front of the shelf full of new releases, trying to decide what movie to rent. Suddenly, we're a group. It makes me sick. I head over to the horror section and try to remember how to breathe and that's where Jake finds me ten minutes later, my eyes closed, snapping my fingers.

Breathe in.

"We've picked the movie," he says. Out. "Chris is paying now."

"Okay." In. I open my eyes.

He extends his hand, like for me to take, and when I don't, he drops it and it's awkward. That's what happens when you sort of tell someone it's okay if they've kissed you and it's okay if it happens again, but you don't tell them if it's okay to do couply things like hold hands and, I guess, care.

"Okay," I repeat. "Let's go."

"Wait."

"Stop following me." Slam. "I said get away from me!"

I turn my head in the direction of the noise. It takes such an effort, I think I must be dying. I feel like it. I blink slowly, several times, until I can sort of focus on a pair of people silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in through the window blinds.

"Nothing is going on between me and Jenny Morse--"

"That's not what Parker said!"

I close my eyes.

"What? You're taking Parker's word for this? She's drunk off her ass! When we dragged her in here she was telling us what a beautiful person Becky is! I am not fucking Jenny Morse!"

"Oh, really? Because that's not what Jenny Morse told me and she wasn't drunk off her ass when she said it!"

She starts to cry.

"Oh, Jesus, Jessie. Don't cry, please..."

"I can't even look at you right now. Get out."

"No, please, Jess--we can figure this out. I'm not leaving this room until we do. Don't do this. Please."

"There's nothing to figure out, Evan."

"What does that mean?"

Silence.

"I asked you what that meant."

"What do you think it means? I don't want you here. Get. Out."

All of a sudden I'm being jerked upright. My stomach lurches. I try to tell whichever one of them it is to stop and leave me alone, but I can't move my mouth.

"Parker, sit up. You can't stay on your back because if you get sick--" Jessie sobs and taps my cheek, once, twice, three times. Stop. I want to sleep. "Parker, come on."

"I hope she chokes."

"Nice, Evan. Would you just leave?"

"Not until you talk to me about this." "If I talk to you about this now, I'll just say something that you really won't like--"

Their voices disappear and so does everything until seconds, minutes, hours later, I don't know, Evan's shaking me, grabbing me roughly by the shoulders.

I try to push him off me, but my arms don't work. I think he's crying.

"--Because you couldn't keep your goddamn mouth shut--"

"Jessie."

I open my eyes. I'm pressed up against Jake's left side and the flat screen mounted to the wall is rolling the end credits for the movie I didn't watch. I rub my eyes and straighten up. Chris and Becky stare at me.

"Welcome back," Jake says.

"Trust you guys to pick the most boring movie in the whole store," I grumble.

"It kept the rest of us awake."

I lean forward, rest my head in my hands and try to shake the sleep off.

"Who were you dreaming about?" Chris asks.

My eyes travel from him to Becky.

"Nothing. No one." I stand. "I'm going to get some air."

"Come back in soon," Chris says. "We're popping out the bubbly."

"Really?"

"Coke's bubbly, isn't it?"

Becky giggles and rests her head against his shoulder. He puts an arm around her.

I've never met a girl so content to be a growth.

Outside, I stand in front of the woods, but I don't go in. All I can think about is getting caught, the cameras that could be recording my every move, that memory-dream and Bailey's my dog and Evan's coming back and there's a bottle of Jack in my locker Becky gave me and Jake's allowed to kiss me and this isn't at all how things are supposed to be going. I wanted to be alone. It's safer that way.

After twenty minutes or so, I hear footsteps behind me.

"I've kissed Jake," I say.

"I know."

I turn and there's Chris, all washed-out in blue moonlight.

"He told me because he felt guilty," he explains. "I told him to go for it."

"I don't like you with Becky. She's not a very nice girl."

"I don't like you with Jake. He's not me."

"Do you remember that party at the end of junior year..."

I trail off and look up. The stars are out tonight, full force. They're pretty.

Of course he remembers.

"How could I forget?"

"I'm a different person now."

He regards me for a long time before he says, "No, you're not."

"Yeah, I am. I am so, so far away from all of that." I don't even know why I'm saying this. It just feels like I should. "It's all totally behind me." "Whatever you say." He holds out his hand. "Let's get back to the house."

"She's nicer than me, though."

"Who?"

"Becky."

"Come on, Parker. Let's go in."

"Wait; I--"

I turn back to the woods before I realize what I'm doing. I didn't even get to--

"Are you okay?"

"No. What?" I want to shake myself. Stop looking over there; you can't go over there, so stop. I run my hand over the bracelet on my wrist. There's nothing else there that I don't have. "I mean, yes. I'm just tired. I was hard on you, wasn't I? I never let you get away with anything."

"Yeah, but you never let anyone get away with anything."

"You were worried about me."

"I worry about you."

"You know, even when I was really hard on people and not very nice, they always thanked me afterward because you couldn't argue with the results." I kick at the ground and give a bitter laugh. "Couldn't argue with perfection."

"You were running yourself into the ground."

"I didn't want anyone else's mistakes jeopardizing my track record. And God forbid I made a mistake. Because if it ever turned out wrong, what would that say about me? I mean, what would happen?"

"The world would end. You wouldn't even know how to cope," Chris says lightly. "And that's what did happen."

"No, it didn't." I shake my head. "That's what I'm trying to tell you: I'm not Perfect Parker Fadley anymore. I never was. I know who I am now and I'm more in control of my life than I've ever been."

"You're a perfect mess. You even have to do that perfectly."

"Look, I'm trying to tell you not to worry," I say impatiently.

"I'll do what I like." He sighs. "We should really go in."

Becky and Jake are talking happily when Chris and I return to the house. They each have a glass of Coke. Chris pours one for me.

"So," Becky says as we crowd around the island. It feels like those moments after everyone has left the party and before you start cleaning up. "Ms. Abernathy told me all these old cheers the squad used to do, like, way back in the day, so at the next game, we're going totally retro. Old-fashioned music, chants, everything. I think it'll be great, like nothing we've done before."

"What about the outfits?" Chris asks. "You're not going to go retro with those, are you? When Abernathy was a cheerleader the skirts went down to the ankles."

The guys laugh like Chris has told an amazingly funny joke.

"Oh, don't you worry, Chris," Becky says, touching his arm. "You'll be able to see our gitch. Gitch? Gitches? Is it `gitches' in plural?"

I raise my glass. "Whatever it is, it's classy."

"I know." She eyes me. "What do you think, really? Think it's a good idea?"

I shrug. "Can't be any worse than the cheers you've been doing lately." "I can't believe you were cheerleading captain," Jake says to me.

Becky smirks. "Cheerleading Nazi."

I set my glass down.

"Jake, walk me home? That way Chris doesn't have to get the car out."

So he does.

"It's nice out," he says, as we tromp down the driveway. "I mean, it's definitely getting warmer out."

"Yeah..."

"My mom doesn't talk to me."

"What?"

"My mom doesn't talk to me," Jake says. "Because I chose my dad. He cheated on her with Wanda. I guess she thought I'd stay with her because of what he did, but I've always had more in common with him."