Getting Over Garrett Delaney(30)
Author: Abby McDonald

“You good hanging out a while longer?” Kayla calls over, snuggled in the crook of Blake’s arm.

“Sure.” I nod. “I’m good leaving whenever.”

“OK.”

I watch them drift gently back toward shore with their hands intertwined. I still feel a flush of shame about what she said earlier. She was calling Garrett the jerk, but I deserved it just the same. Maybe even more, because I was the one who was friends with her, way back when. I can see me and Garrett now: huddled together on the edge of every party, pointing out all the ordinary kids who we were sure would go on to lead such ordinary lives. At the time, it always felt like an affirmation. I wouldn’t settle for the easy path; I would be someone extraordinary, no matter how hard that made things right now. But now, looking back, I wonder if we weren’t just as bad as the bitches and cliques we made fun of, thinking we were different, above them all.

I paddle aimlessly around the edge of the water for a while, watching dragonflies buzz in the reeds. It’s cooler now, and the kids splashing with their water wings have made way for adult swimmers, and dog walkers are skirting the edge of the lake. But by the time I reach the dock again, the girls are packing up, shrugging on sweatshirts and jeans over their swimsuits. “Hey, good timing.” Kayla hands me a towel as I pull myself out of the inner tube. “We were thinking about heading out for something to eat.”

“My mom went to the store this morning,” Suzie offers. “There’s, like, a ton of meat we could grill.”

“Grill! Grill! Grill!” The guys chant and beat their chests.

“Could you be any more Neanderthal?” Yolanda sighs, fixing her hair up in careful braid.

“I’ll be your caveman,” TJ says with a wink.

“Animal, more like.” She rolls her eyes at me in solidarity. “Anyway, I vote the Burger Shack. Then we don’t have to worry about cleaning up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Suzie says. There’s a general chorus of approval.

“What about you, Sadie?” Kayla asks, packing up her stuff. “We can drop you, if you need to be anywhere.”

I look around. These aren’t my people, and I know I’m just tagging along, but right now, tagging along feels just fine to me. Better than sitting home alone, anyway — trying to ignore the messages from the only other friend in my life.

“I’m good,” I decide, smiling at Kayla with genuine enthusiasm. “Count me in.”

This task is way too big for one girl to handle on her own. No matter how humiliating it seems to admit that (a) you’re madly in love with a boy who (b) doesn’t love you back and (c) has broken your heart so thoroughly that (d) you have to work through a twelve-step program to get over him, be brave.

Why suffer alone when you could share the burden? Friends bring comfort, support, and snack foods for every occasion. And heartbreak goes so much better with cookies.

14

I creep into work Monday morning, unsure if I even have a job to creep to. I didn’t get any “You’re fired” voice mails over the weekend, so perhaps my prayers were answered, and the Gods of Short-Term Amnesia managed to wipe out all recollections of my last shift.

“Here she comes — guard the china!” LuAnn calls out, laughing, as I slink through the door.

No such luck.

“Um, hi.” I look around, nervous. We haven’t opened yet, so the place is still empty, aside from Aiko, who is curled up at a corner table, working in her sketchbook with her hood pulled up and the blue tips of her pigtails peeking out. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come in, or . . .”

“What are you talking about? Catch!” LuAnn tosses me my apron.

I fumble for it. “Are you sure? Because after Friday . . .”

“Ancient history,” LuAnn declares. “Now, give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone,” she repeats, holding out her hand. Her nails are painted a bright apricot, tipped with green. “Hand it over.”

“Your buddy Kayla called,” Aiko adds, looking up. “She explained your whole unrequited love thing. Said you needed support.”

“So we’re going to help,” LuAnn finishes with a smile. “I’m on phone duty today, and Aiko will . . . what is it you’re doing again?” She looks over.

“Providing artistic inspiration,” Aiko says. She turns her sketchbook to show an elaborate sign: GARRETT-FREE ZONE! it says, with a big red X across his name.

I’m overcome with a rush of emotion. After everything I did? “You guys . . .” I feel myself start to tear up. They’ve only known me a matter of weeks here, and still they want to help out?

Then I’m struck with a sudden insecurity. Maybe Kayla guilt-tripped them into it. Or worse, they feel obligated, like I’m a charity case. “You know, you don’t have to,” I tell them quickly.

“Sure we do!” LuAnn exclaims, surprisingly enthusiastic. “I love a good project.”

“She’s right,” Aiko agrees. “You’ll be doing her a favor. And us,” she adds. “If nothing else, it’ll get her off my case.”

“Hey!” LuAnn lobs a sugar packet at her. “I’ve just suggested, a couple of times, in passing, that you should be selling your art on Etsy, that’s all.”

“Ha!” Aiko snorts. “Try ‘incessantly nagged.’”

LuAnn pivots to face me again. “Anyway, I’m sorry that we didn’t take you seriously before,” she tells me sincerely. “It wasn’t fair to tease you like that.”

“Oh,” I pause, awkward. “Well, thanks.”

“Yay!” She smothers me in a quick hug, then steps back to show she’s plucked my phone from my back pocket. “So, starting today, it’s a clean slate. We’re going to get you through this — for the sake of our jobs as well as your mental health. Friday’s takings were . . . let’s just say below average.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say again as she hustles me behind the counter. “I’ll make it up to you — I swear.”

“We’re counting on it, kid.”

I’m just tying on my apron when my cell phone begins buzzing loudly in LuAnn’s grip. She checks the screen. “It’s him!”

I freeze. Aiko bounces over. “What do we do now?” she asks, excited. They huddle over the phone, full of excitement, like . . . well, like me. For a moment I forget that they’re supposed to be the calm, mature adults in this equation.