Page 53 of Please, Sir

“Lene,” I correct, annoyed that he knows I want to go by Lene but refuses to do it. I tug open the fridge and dig around for a yogurt and some other snacks to take to get me through the school day and long practice after.

“I was hoping to talk to you for a minute,” he says when I close the fridge, watching me as I shove an apple and string cheese into the front of my backpack.

“Peyton and Cassidy are on their way. We’re getting breakfast before school,” I tell him, the subtext being,I don’t want to talk to you right now.

I glance up just in time to see his face fall. The knot of discomfort in my gut grows a little. I love my dad. I do. And most of the time, I hate myself for being so mean to him. But sometimes, he’s just so nice, always doing the right thing, but never doing the thing I need most–never bringing up my mom. Ever. Never dating. He’s keeping us trapped in a life where we feel that thing we don’t have, and it makes me so irrationally angry with him. I study his defeated expression. I don’t want my dad to be sad. But I don’t know how to talk to him about any of this, either.

“Alright,” he says, “have a good day. Glad you’re hanging out with the Brownstock girls again.”

“We’re not hanging out again dad, okay? It’s breakfast,” Isnap, immediately wishing I would’ve just said, ‘yeah, me too. Let’s talk tonight.’ But for some reason, it’s so hard.

He says goodbye as I’m at the front door, and I ignore him as the door swings shut and Peyton pulls up.

Peyton picksthe sprinkles off her donut, dropping them onto the square of wax paper it was served on. “Really?”

I nod. “We went for a drive after practice the other day, and we’ve talked on the phone three times, totalling almost one full hour.”

“Whoa,” Cassidy sighs. “He’s so cute. Did you know he’s in a band?”

I lick my lips, leaning forward, a bite of maple bar almost to my mouth. “Yes! He read me the lyrics for their new song. It’s so good,” I gush, before finishing my sweet, washing it down with a carton of 2% milk.

Peyton crumples the wax paper her cruller was sitting on, and faces me. “We should get pizza tonight, rent some movies. Our parents just got a little outdoor fire pit and my dad got this bottle of wine my mom is like, bonkers for. They’ll be out there all night so we’ll have the TV to ourselves.” It sounds divine.

I feel like the wax paper, crumpled and sad. I want to sleepover, to recapture my most important friendships. But I already committed to the JV cheer slumber party tonight, and I’m still trying to fit in with the girls on my squad.

“That sounds like so much fun. Maybe tomorrow? I have plans tonight.”I wish I didn’t, I don’t say, because that wouldn’t be right to my squad, either.

Peyton toes my calf with the tip of her boot. “Rawley Coltplans?” She makes her eyebrows dance, wiggling her tongue, while her sister simulates a kitten’s wild purr.

“No,” I reply awkwardly. My hesitance warms my skin. “There’s a JV team slumber party tonight. I’m still trying to fit in because I’m the only freshman on the team so I kinda feel like I have to go. And I already told them I would,” I admit, adding truthfully, “I’d rather hang out with you guys.”

Peyton refuses to look at me. Cassidy takes pity, maybe, giving a small smile. “We understand.”

The drive to school is quiet, and even though I know they’re disappointed, I feel like we made up some ground over donuts. I need more mornings like this.

“You should never have thoughtAlexa Jordan would be your friend,” Miley says, pinching a piece of S’mores popcorn from the bowl. “She’s been a bitch since 5th grade.”

Amber laughs, twisting the plastic lid back onto her bottle of water. “You can’t be a bitch in 5th grade.”

“She was,” Miley deadpans, reaching for her soda.

“Jasmine is Alexa’s little yes-man,” Kelly joins the conversation, sitting cross-legged, scooting up to us. “So you can assume that even if Jasmine does like you and wants to be your friend, she can’t unless Alexa deems it okay.”

I replay moments in my mind with Jasmine and Alexa, and that’s definitely the energy I got. “She was never really mean,” I say, not in the habit of speaking badly about anyone.

“We heard they were making fun of you because you haven’t got your period yet,” Kelly adds, her eyes darting to Miley’s, then Ambers. “That’s actually a good thing. If things with Rawley Colt get serious, you guys can have sex withouta condom and you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”

“Ohh,” Miley teases. “Someone paid attention in Miss Rivers’ class this year.”

I chew the inside of my cheek nervously before saying, “Well, I wouldn’t have sex with him anyway.” Their eyes magnetize to me, expressions of confusion and disgust twisting their features. “I mean, without a condom,” I lie, because admitting I’m not ready for sex doesn’t seem like something they need to know.

Miranda, who has been quiet the last few minutes, texting on her phone, gets to her feet. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she says, slipping out. Kelly and Amber grin, knocking fists, like they’re privy to whatever secret thing Miranda is doing. And even though I’m here in my pajamas as part of the sleepover, they don’t tell me why they’re bumping knuckles, or where Miranda went, and what’s so funny. And I worry that I’ll never be in, and I’ll always be on the outside wishing, hoping and waiting.

I think about Peyton and Cassidy on their parents' huge sectional couch, the fireplace roaring, some old Adam Sandler movie on the big screen, and I long for it. I long to be with the people that let me be me.

“Yeah,” Kelly agrees, and I relax a little when they do. “Who knows where he’s been. You don’t want any diseases.”

That has me thinking about Rawley Colt, and if he’s a virgin or not. But I don’t get to think about it too long. Because Miranda returns, holding something under her shirt. Locking her bedroom door, she pulls out a glass bottle.

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