I spit and rinse my mouth out, getting more pissed with him by the second. Some things, like secrets between a father and daughter about said daughter skipping school, are supposed to be sacred. I take my time settling my toothbrush into the cup by the faucet. Not so long ago, it used to have three toothbrushes in it. Now it just has two.
“Did Daddy at least tell you why I skipped?” I ask, slowly turning around.
“No?” Her stormy face turns even stormier. “Your father knew about this?”
“Double crap,” I mumble. “No?” I try.
She rolls her eyes and sits down on the edge of our tub. Her knees bump hard into my shins.
“Jesus, Cleo. I can’t even look at you. And your father…”
For a split second, she seems…hurt. Like we’ve ganged up on her. Like our life together is a fight and she’s all on her own. But then she’s right back to looking like she’s ready for battle.
“Give me your phone,” she says, holding out a manicured hand. I snatch it from the counter, where it’s innocently playing “Blue in Green” by Miles Davis, and clutch it to my heart.
I slip out of the bathroom and head down the hall, negotiating. “Mom, no! Please? Anything but my phone,” I whine.
“I don’t want to hear it, Cleo.” She follows me to my room, where I reluctantly hand it over. She pockets it and storms out, slamming my door so hard the row of snow globes on my shelves rattle. I flop down on top of my blankets, knowing I’m probably grounded on top of losing the phone. When she yells back to me, “Your father’s picking you up first thing tomorrow. You’ll get the phone back on Monday,” I bolt upright.
“MONDAY?!”
then: July
EVIL GENIUS
“What are you wearing t-t-t-tonight?” Layla asked me.
I stretched out on her pale blue sheets. The window was open and the humidity was punishing. Even the creases behind my knees were sweaty.
“It’s so hot,” I said. “What can I wear to be as close to completely naked as possible?” Layla laughed as she pulled on a long, thin-fabricked dress, its pale pink color delicate and pretty against her sun-kissed brown skin. She lifted her dark wavy hair from where it was tucked against her back, then shimmied her little “new dress” shimmy. Her reflection winked at me in her full-length mirror. “I’m sure mmmost of the guys, and a few of the girls, w-would freaking love that,” she said, raising her thick eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes, because dating was the last thing on my mind. I was mostly just nervous to be going to my first big high school party. As rising sophomores, Layla and I had been invited to a grand total of two, and I’d skipped the first one earlier that summer because my dad had gotten us tickets to Shakespeare in the Park. I was only going to this one because Layla was making me, and because Valeria’s building had rooftop access that would provide an excellent view of the fireworks.
“You have a dress like this, right?” she asked a few minutes later, holding out a thin black thing in my direction. I took the wisp of clothing in my hands, rubbing the smooth fabric between my fingers.
“You own something in black?” I asked, teasing her because black was my signature color, and the majority of her clothes were as light as the walls of her bedroom—lavender and seafoam, shades of powdery pink, pale yellows, and sky blues.
“Shut up,” she said. “D-don’t you?” I nodded, though the dress that hung in my closet wasn’t nearly as delicate.
“So you should wear it tonight….” Her mouth was still open, so I knew the sentence wasn’t finished. Sometimes, Layla’s stutter caused her to get blocked so badly that words got stuck in her throat and no sound came out at all. I waited.
She closed her mouth, cleared her throat, walked over to her dresser, and tried again. “W-with these.” She pulled out a pair of shiny gold hoop earrings. “And you should p-put in your c-c-contacts. Oh! And let me do eyeliner. You have great eyes, C-Cleo.” I always hated that my name began with one of the hardest consonants for her to pronounce.
I stepped up to her mirror, holding the dress in front of me. I took my glasses off and stepped even closer to my reflection so I could see my face more clearly. Will anyone even notice my “great eyes” with all these freckles? What does having “great eyes” even mean? But Layla knew about this stuff in a way I didn’t. She’d cared deeply about aesthetics for as long as I’d known her, and she’s been wearing at least a little makeup since the first time her older sister showed her how to use a mascara wand when we were still in middle school.
I pulled Layla’s dress on and it was way too tight. I had curves in every place she didn’t, but she refused to acknowledge that we were completely different sizes.
“I like, don’t know how to party,” I said, immediately taking the dress off. “Do you think people will be drinking?”
Layla pulled off the pink dress she was wearing and slipped into a yellow one before wrapping me in a hug. Her voice was soft and raspy and her hair and skin smelled like sandalwood. She pulled back and looked at me.
“Cleo. Obviously there will b-b-be drinking. That d-doesn’t mean you have to drink. I’m not g-going to. And if some d-douche tries to make me or you, I’ll k-k-kick him in the balls.”
I laughed. It made sense that she smelled like a forest and sounded like the beginning of a wildfire. She had a temper, and once it was lit, the girl could burn.
To take my mind off the party, off the way Layla wanted me to look and who all might be there drinking, I said, “So I got this email from Novak today.”
Layla looked at me and cringed. “Why is a t-teacher emailing you in the summer?”
I grinned and flopped back down on her bed. “She’s spending part of the summer at the Globe Theatre in London,” I said a little dreamily. I’d been obsessed with everything about London since I was twelve—the tea, the culture, the landmarks—and Layla knew this. My London snow globe was the most prized one in my collection.
I noticed a blankness on Layla’s face, so I added, “The, like, Elizabethan theater originally built by the Lord Chamberlain’s Men.” Layla blinked. “Shakespeare’s freaking playing company, Layla! Shakespeare’s freaking Globe! Are you kidding me right now? I thought we were friends.”
Her eyes cleared a little. “Oh that thing, right.” Her mouth opened, and closed, and opened again. “Okay so, um, wh-wh-wh-what’d she say that c-couldn’t wait till school started?” I groaned and lay back on the bed staring at the ceiling again.