Some Kind of Wonderful Read online

  I groaned audibly. The Zumbergs have invited us was never an auspicious beginning to a sentence. They were the most intense socialites of all my parents' friends. I got a headache just trying to keep up with my parents' stories of traveling with them. Dinner with the Pacinos, a safari with Karl Lagerfeld—the list went on and on.

  "Don't groan. We're all taking an island getaway. The Zumbergs have arranged a fabulous trip to Nevis. They've booked bungalows for fifty people all along the beach! Why don't you bring one of your new friends and we can all get to know each other better in paradise? It's exactly our kind of Thanksgiving, Flan," she said, flashing me a grin. "No cooking!"

  "You're right." I had to agree, spearing the last of the bread pudding and imagining myself zoning out on the beach, without a scarf and hat and gloves for a change. "It sounds great."

  "Then it's settled. Good Lord, Flan, did you finish that entire dessert already? I knew you'd grown since I last saw you, and now I can see why."

  "What do you mean?" I asked. She'd only been gone a few weeks. How could I have grown that much?

  She stood up and pushed in her chair. "Come on, Flan, Idol comes on in twenty minutes. I haven't seen it since Jennifer Hudson was eliminated." She stopped. "Flan, you're a giant!"

  "Mom!" I said.

  "It's just, I was so distracted by the kitchen disaster before. Now that I'm looking at you standing, you've shot up like a beanstalk. You must be what, five-foot ten?"

  "Mom, I'm five-foot seven."

  "Fm five-foot seven. You, dear, are now at least three inches taller than me. Don't stop growing either, Flanny. You'll be a model yet! So long and lean. That I know you inherited from my side."

  But I didn't feel like a model. Looking down at my feet, which suddenly looked really far away, I felt like a stork in too-short jeans. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed this before. And suddenly, as I followed my mom out of the restaurant, I started to worry. If I couldn't even figure out why none of my clothes seemed to fit anymore, how could I trust myself to make major life decisions about what school, what friends, and what life was best for me?

  Chapter 2

  DOWN THE RABBIT'S HOLE

  The next day after school, Judith and I were hanging at Alice's Tea Cup, waiting for Meredith to join us. Alice's Tea Cup is this fantastic cafe on the Upper West Side where the pastries are to die for and the decor rule of thumb is that anything goes as long as it's pink and plucked from some shabby chic antique store in the city. Gathering here was one of our standard Friday unwinding rituals.

  We always sat at the middle table, right in the center of all the action. We debriefed each other on the week that had passed and planned fun outings for the weekend ahead. At the beginning of the year, when there were tons of new boys at Stuy to discuss, evaluate, and prioritize, we spent so much time talking about guys that Meredith started calling our meetings at the cafe "Boy Circle," and the name just stuck.

  Usually, I really looked forward to Boy Circle. But today, instead of chilling out and enjoying my favorite Rooibos tea blend while we waited for Mer to arrive so we could dish, I felt more like I was having an Alice in Wonderland moment of my own.

  For one thing, Judith kept muttering about Meredith's "perpetual inability to arrive anywhere on time." If she'd been wearing a top hat instead of her woven lavender wool beret, I might have mistaken her for the Mad Hatter. Even her standard hair flipping habit had been aggravated by Meredith's tardiness, and I was trying to stay out of range of her flying blond locks. She was wearing a white oxford shirt, and a cute little blue tie peaked out of her Bendel's cashmere V-neck. The whole women-wearing-tailored-men's-clothing trend was practically created for Judith.

  "You know," she said, straightening her tie, "this is just like Meredith. To go on a date last night and then be late for Boy Circle today! Doesn't she know she's torturing us?"

  Not wanting to side with her or against her, I kept my eyes on the menu.

  "Mmm-hmm," I said jokingly. "The nerve of that girl. So what are we going to eat?"

  I was still recovering from the night before when my mother had called attention to my major growth spurt. Sure, she still thought it was fabulous. Don't stop wearing heels, Flan, she'd told me when she saw me in flip-flops at the breakfast table. There's nothing more showstopping than a tall woman in stilettos.

  It didn't help that Judith was the definition of petite or that everyone else in the cafe seemed to be a six-year-old at a birthday party. Happy little girls in pink tiaras paraded around us, making me feel like I'd just swallowed the Eat Me petit four from Alice in Wonderland and blown up to the size of a house.

  My stomach growled. It hadn't been that long since I'd had lunch, but I was famished. I sighed and decided to embrace my growth spurt by just indulging in Alice's awesome fried chicken with a Shirley Temple to wash it down.

  "You're late," Judith said, as Meredith came in and made her way toward our table.

  "Yeah, yeah, I know," Meredith said. "For a very important date."

  She piled her stuff on top of Judith's giant North Face backpack and my Brooklyn Industries messenger bag. Meredith always carted around several bags. As scattered as she could be, she was super anal about her art supplies. There were different colored totes for her knitting yarns, her jewelry supplies, and, occasionally, her schoolbooks.

  "Sorry, I had to stop by Pearl Art Supplies for these awesome new beads." Meredith held out her new baubles for us to admire. She cradled them carefully, as if she were holding the Hope Diamond. But they were black and tan wood and kind of weird looking. Judith and I both did our best oh, interesting coos and smiles.

  "Speaking of important dates," I said to Meredith as she tucked her beads away. "What's new in the world of you and Jules? Did you end up going to Bowlmor last night?"

  "Yes!" Judith said, like she'd been waiting her whole life to make that exclamation. "I'm going through a major gossip drought. Spill all your bowling escapades ASAP. And please don't tell me Jules brought his own bowling shoes."

  Jules was a friend of my ex-boyfriend Bennett, whom Meredith had liked just before—and then again after—she started obsessing over Adam. I was particularly interested in the details of their date because the fact that Meredith's mind was occupied with thoughts of Jules and his fedoras made me feel a tiny bit less guilty about Adam.

  But Meredith just shrugged and folded her pink napkin into a tiny triangle. "I dunno. He's just kind of . . . goofy. There's something about a guy with a hat collection. . . ."

  Judith held up a finger. "Excuse me," she said. "Are you or are you not the girl who darted into the janitor's closet recently because you were so intimidated by the beauty of a particular beanie of his?"

  We all cracked up and then Meredith sighed.

  "Yeah, I think we're just going to be friends. Last night we didn't have anything to talk about except why the best bowling shirts have stripes. Besides, there's only room for so many hair accessories in one relationship. And I'm not giving up my headbands." Meredith adjusted the polka-dot strip of fabric she'd woven expertly through her bun. Then she tucked a loose brown ringlet behind her ear. "In other news," she said, leaning forward in her chair with a mischievous look. "Any recent run ins with the Kelvinator to report, Judith?"

  Judith groaned. Kelvin was this super creepy guy who had the hots for her. The time and energy she'd spent warding him off was equal only to the time and energy she put into her science fair project last month.

  "Don't even bring him up during Boy Circle!" Judith said, blushing and covering her ears. "Remember how I accidentally flirted with him because he was cruelly disguised as a frog to throw me off?"

  "Judith," I laughed, "the costume wasn't a ploy to trick you into flirting with him. It was Halloween! But yes, I do remember."

  "Well," Judith said, going for the double hair flip, "yesterday I was looking at his Facebook page, and he has a picture of me up there! Isn't that like some sort of identity theft?"

  "I think
what we need to revisit is the fact that you're admittedly cruising Kelvin's Facebook page," Meredith said, nudging me. "Care to explain that one, Judith?"

  "Ooh, busted. You totally love Kelvin," I said, laughing.

  As I looked at my friends across the table, I realized that, despite Judith's earlier impatience, it was almost better to hold out on spilling our gossip for these Friday afternoon sessions. The payoff was so worth the wait.

  "If you guys say the name Kelvin one more time, I might lose my appetite. Anyway, the person we really need to hear from is you, Flan. Don't you have something special planned with Adam this weekend? For your anniversary}"

  I blushed and cleared my throat. I guessed it was only a matter of time before the Boy Circle wand landed on me, but it still made me uncomfortable to talk to the 'diths about Adam. I tried to stall, glancing across the restaurant, where everyone was singing "Happy Birthday." A chic Upper East Side mother was cutting a giant pink cake for her daughter. She could have used the same frosting-coated knife to cut the insta-tension between Mer, Judith, and me. Why did I feel like their eyes were suddenly boring into me? Was I just being totally paranoid? I would have given anything to be that little girl, blowing out my candles and wishing for a time when my friends didn't have even the smallest reason—though they swore they were over it—to resent me.

  Not too long ago, I'd been the one making them agree to the No Adam Rule when they both simultaneously started crushing on him at the beginning of the year. At the time, I was just taking preventative measures to avoid a toxic situation. I couldn't have my only two friends at school fighting over the same guy!

  But then, I went and did the worst thing that a friend could ever do.

  I fell for him myself.

  The truth was, it happened so slowly, I didn't even see it coming. For a while, I'd mistaken Adam for just my obnoxious lab partner. I thought he only cared about making lewd remarks in class for the benefit of his meathead friends at the back of the room. I used to dread biology—having to hear all those testosterone-induced grunts from behind me.

  But then, when we were assigned to monitor a frog together, I learned how funny and down-to-earth he was. And he was so cute and parental about our little Bogie. I was dating someone else at the time, so Adam was not even on my radar—at least not in that way.

  But by now, we'd been going strong for almost a month. We did have an anniversary coming up, but everything was still just uncomfortable enough with Meredith and Judith that I didn't feel like talking about the fact that Adam had promised to take me to Perilla in the West Village for a romantic dinner tomorrow night. I'd been dying to go there ever since Harold, the owner, won Season One of Top Chef. Judith and I had been watching the reruns together on Bravo and I knew, under normal circumstances, she'd be psyched that I was finally going to eat there. But something made me hold back. And it was all this holding back that was really starting to freak me out. I thought of my mom grilling me at dinner last night and I started to turn red.

  It was kind of awful having to worry that an innocent discussion at Boy Circle could turn into a The Hills-style standoff in no time.

  "Um, so, what's everyone doing for Thanksgiving?" I asked innocently.

  "My grandma's burning a turkey again," Meredith sighed, pouring us all more tea. "It's tradition."

  "Boo," Judith said as she popped a raspberry petit four into her mouth. "My parents are going to visit my sister at her study-abroad program in Budapest. They're chucking me off to my aunt's house in rural Pennsylvania for the week. Did I mention that I'm dreading it?"

  "Go ahead, Flan," Mer said. "Torture us with your special plans."

  Judith laughed. "Yeah, what is it? A banquet at the Hiltons' house? Dinner at the Rainbow Room? Or will you be pigging out on wasabi rice crisps and crazily expensive champagne with Sara-Beth Benny?" She flicked her hair around, and this time a lock actually hit my cheek.

  My face burned. Meredith and Judith had made remarks like this in the past about SBB, but they were always said in good humor. Today, because I still had the awkward Adam moment on my mind, I wasn't so sure.

  "Actually," I mumbled, looking down at my empty plate, "we're taking a trip to Nevis with some of our family friends. As if my mom needs another Caribbean vacation. Anyway . . . I was going to . . . I'm allowed to invite one of you to come with."

  Meredith's jaw dropped. Judith's fork clattered to her plate. They stared at me in stunned silence.

  "Omigod!"

  "Flan!"

  "You have to take me!"

  "My Thanksgiving is going to suck so much more than hers!"

  "Not even! Have you ever been to rural Pennsylvania?"

  "I'll do anything!"

  They were talking so fast, I could barely keep up. Suddenly both my friends were leaning across the table, all eager smiles and sparkling eyes. Even the little kids in the restaurant were looking at us.

  "Well," I said slowly, glad to see that they were so into the idea, but slightly overwhelmed by their exuberance. "I don't know . . . how am I supposed to decide?"

  "I'll do your bio homework for a month," Judith threw out.

  "Flan doesn't need help with her homework," Meredith said, grabbing a piece of frilly fabric from one of her bags. "I can add an awesome ruffled hem to the bottom of your skirt so it won't be so short on you."

  "Hey!" I said, looking down at my plum corduroy Alice + Olivia skirt. Well, maybe it had gotten a little too short.

  Judith laid her hand on mine. "I like the way your skirt looks, Flan. Plus, I know a sophomore girl who's an office aide. I can get you a permanent hall pass."

  Meredith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked like she was about to lay down her trump card.

  "I promise to lose any last bit of a grudge that I might have about"—she paused dramatically— "Adam."

  Our table was quiet for a moment.

  Then Judith said, "So will I."

  "You guys," I said.

  "No, seriously," Meredith said, and Judith nodded. "It's time we put all of this mess behind us . . . in Nevis!"

  Wow. At least I wasn't the only one who still felt like Adam was the eight-hundred-pound quarterback in the room that none of us wanted to talk about. I guess we were on the same page, which was such a huge relief. I couldn't help it—my lips curled up in a grin.

  "You know what," I told them, "screw the Zumbergs. If they have enough room for fifty people in their bungalows, they can make room for fifty-one. I really want both of you to come."

  At that instant, the whole restaurant erupted in cheers. The bratty six-year-old had finally unwrapped her last massive pink-ribboned box (another life-size American Girl doll), and all the other parents seemed to be celebrating the fact that the party was over. More immediately, at our table, Meredith and Judith had both attacked me. They flung a tangle of arms around my shoulders, ruffled my ponytail, and even kissed my forehead. You'd think I had just asked them to be the maids of honor in my wedding.

  "Oh, Flan," Judith breathed. "You won't regret this."

  "We are going to have somuchfun" Meredith agreed.

  And suddenly, I couldn't wait to be on the beach with them. I could picture the three of us lying out on matching plush terrycloth towels, rotating the direction of our chaise lounges in time with the sun. I'd pour drinks from a frosty pitcher of virgin daiquiris, Meredith would do all our hair up in crazy twists and knots, and Judith would follow us around with sunscreen. And the tropical sun would set on any unpleasant misunderstandings we'd had in the past.

  "Just so you know," Judith said, shaking me out of my reverie. "I would have totally killed you if you'd picked Meredith over me."

  We all laughed, but as I looked across the table, my stomach knotted. As SBB always wisely told me—that girl has a proverb for everything—every jest carries a glimmer of truth.

  Chapter 3

  DATE NIGHT...WITH MY BODYGUARD?

  On Saturday night, I was stand
ing before my vanity a mirror, trying to figure out how to zip up the back of my new black knee-length dress, when Adam called to say he'd be at my place in twenty minutes. I calmly said I couldn't wait to see him, and then flipped into frantic primp mode.

  I wished Feb were home. I'd been her date prep assistant since I was seven years old and she went on her very first official date. His name was Trenton Tallard the Third, and he asked Feb to accompany him to his sister's wedding. I still remember the pink streaks she put in her hair and the fishnets she insisted on wearing, despite my mother's stern warning that "no respectable girl goes to Tavern on the Green dressed like Gwen Stefani." I sat next to Feb in front of her vanity while she painted both sets of our toenails with dark green NARS nail polish.

  Whenever I had trouble sleeping when I was a little kid, I used to imagine my own first date. I'd lie in bed and picture my own grown-up self, sitting in front of my vanity, switching the lighting setting to evening and primping and powdering so that my own Prince Charming would be blown away when he knocked on my front door with calla lilies.

  Little did I know then that the ideal date in a guy's universe didn't exactly include an arranged bouquet from Michael George and a carriage ride through Central Park. So far, I'd had my share of boyfriends, but Jonathan's idea of eighth grade courtship included buying me a large box of Hot Tamales and coming over with something from Netflix. And Bennett, my most recent ex, was very sweet, but his romantic overtures included me helping him leaf through racks of comic books in dusty comic book shops in the Village.

  Adam was different. He was super observant, so he was great at reading me and was always the first person to notice the little things—from a new haircut I'd gotten, to my embarrassing fear of cactuses, to the face I unintentionally made when I was ready to leave a party.

  Which is why it didn't surprise me that Adam actually remembered the date of our one-month anniversary, and thought to plan ahead since it fell during Thanksgiving weekend, and showed up on time with a bouquet of some really unique bright orange calla lilies.