I reach under my mattress, pull out Shannon’s journal once again, and open it to her next entry.Tuesday, August 3, 1993Can you say awkward?Mom and I went shopping today with Eve and her mother, the whole mall run and food court extravaganza that we do every year before school starts.
I smile. That’s the shopping trip Eve mentioned on the phone. This entry is going to have a happy ending.Mom and Mrs. Brice go bananas over that disgusting sweet-and-sour chicken. Tastes like grease balls dunked in maple syrup that’s passed its expiration date.I remember how excited Eve and I used to get about these shopping trips. She’d spend the night before with me and we’d spend hours making a list. Jelly bracelets or toe rings? Doc Martens or tennis shoes? T-shirts or Polos? Power-shopping, we called it.So that was then. This is now. No sleepovers this year, no lists. Just Mom and me meeting Eve and her mom at the entrance of Macy’s, followed by a bunch of fake smiles and air kisses. Our moms dragged us through the stores, up and down the aisles, with Eve and me acting all fake-cheery but not even looking at each other.Anyhow, we shopped for a couple of hours, bought a few clothes, wolfed down some grease balls in the food court and I thought, Thank heaven we’re done. Our shopping trips used to go on all day, but every minute was dragging by like an hour. Even Mom and Mrs. Brice seemed ready for this funfest to be over.So … time to go, right?Wrong.Mom and Mrs. Brice suddenly announced they wanted to look at woks, or steamers, or something food-related. I said I’d come, too, but Mom said no, they’d just be a minute, Eve and I should just wait there in the food court.So there we sat for the next half-hour. For the first few minutes, we stuck to safe conversation—how much reading would be involved in AP English, whether we’d have to do projects in honors chemistry, that sort of thing. I told her I was sorry I hadn’t gotten to hang out with her much during the Beta Club trip, what with her being in Group A while I was in Group B.Then, the weirdest thing happened. It was like we both got totally gushy at the same time.She said, “I miss you, Shannon,” and I said, “I miss you, too” and we were all sappy and blubbery, crying like babies.I told Eve I was sorry we’d drifted apart, but I’d felt so judged by her, and she said no no no, she never meant to judge me, she just didn’t want to see me get hurt. I told her that Chris and I are doing GREAT. She smiled and said she was glad to hear it, but she didn’t look convinced. Whatever.It just felt so good to feel close to her again. She and Chris will learn to love each other eventually. She’ll come around when she sees for herself what a great guy he is. And she’ll find a great guy of her own soon! I told her that would be our fall project.Senior year, HERE WE COME!P.S. I bit the bullet and kept my appointment with Dr. Deadhead yesterday. He said he was proud of me, that we’d come so far and that my future is so bright. And when I smiled, he said it was the first time he ever really saw me smile. A REAL smile. A GENUINE smile. A smile from the heart. I said, “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”
I smile, thinking of Shannon and Eve hugging and crying in the food court at the mall.
Mom and Mrs. Brice must have done some behind-the-scenes plotting to make sure Shannon and Eve would have some time alone to patch things up. I guess Mom’s micromanaging comes in handy once in a while. Once in a great while.
I finger the last few pages of Shannon’s journal, the ones I have yet to read. After page upon page of angst and confusion, it’s beyond exhilarating to read that, for one moment at least, she’s excited about the future.
Senior year, HERE WE COME!
It occurs to me, just this instant, that my senior year is coming, too. I mean, of course I already knew that … but Shannon’s journal has kind of disoriented me. I’m following her story so closely that I’ve lost track of my own.
I grin at her pep-squad verbiage and punctuation: Senior year, HERE WE COME!
“Senior year, here I come,” I say aloud, feeling silly and wistful at the same time.
A knot clutches in my throat.
Oh, God, Shannon. I wish you’d had your senior year. I wish that so much.
But at least you were happy.
Except that she wasn’t. Not for long. My stomach muscles tighten as I slowly turn the page, knowing I’m closing in on the last days of her life:Saturday, August 7, 1993Guess what I did tonight?Go on … guess.Oh, forget it, you’d never figure it out.I scrapbooked with Grandma! Isn’t that the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?But we actually had fun.I was supposed to go to a party with Jamie, but I changed my mind at the last minute. The two of us hanging out always involves my car, my gas, my money, my jewelry for her to wear … blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.So when she asked if I wanted to go to some party and I said no, she was STUNNED. No? What would she do? How would she get there? Whose clothes would she “borrow” ? (and forget to give back). Whose house would she sneak into and crash at? (since her folks lock her out if she’s not home by her curfew, which she never is).Of course, she couldn’t say all those things, so instead, she tried to make me jealous. I’d better be there, she said, to keep an eye on my boyfriend.Except Chris isn’t even in town, I told her. He’s at a car show with his dad.That’s what you think, she told me.That’s what I know, I told her.But she kept trying to get me to change my mind. Why couldn’t I go? What was I doing instead, knitting booties for orphans with my prissy friend Eve?That didn’t work either (and God, I’m so ashamed to think of the times when it did), so then Jamie started crying. She said I’m her best friend, her only friend, and I’ve been such a good example for her, and why oh why am I blowing her off?The tears got to me. Okay, okay, I’ll go, I told her. At first, she was gushing all over me—Thank you, thank you, you’re my best friend ever!But a few minutes later, she was calling me back with the same old snotty attitude, telling me which of my clothes she needed to “borrow” and how much money I needed to “lend” her.So I told her I couldn’t go after all. She was so mad she slammed down the phone.And Grandma and I sat in the basement all evening, pasting family photos onto scrapbook paper and eating s’mores. Yes, she drove me crazy with her nitpicking, but what can I say? That’s Grandma. At least she doesn’t use me.I’ll never let myself be used again.
Thank God Shannon is seeing the light about Jamie. I turn to the next entry.Tuesday, August 10, 1993Something’s up with Jamie.She called this morning practically hyperventilating, telling me she needed to see me NOW. I lied and told her I was busy all day with a “family function.” (Happy you taught me how to be such a good liar, Jamie?)Tonight, then, she said.Gee, sorry, I said. Busy tonight, too.So she started up the waterworks again. She sobbed and blubbered and told me she has to see me, she just has to. She’s got big news. HUGE. (Yawn.)She sounded so frantic that I almost felt a little sorry for her. But when I think of how long I’ve let her call all the shots, I can’t help but smile a little to see her squirm when the shoe’s on the other foot.I finally told her fine, I’d do my best to squeeze her in. So I guess I’ll see her tomorrow.Wonder what her big news is.