Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,88

me You are amazing. You are wonderful. Who lets me apologize. Who lets me be me.

Who doesn’t call.

AUGUST SCHEDULE

IMPORTANT DATES:

☐Princess Scarlett returns—Friday August 5th (finish cleaning Scarlett’s clothes!!!)

☐Party August 6th.

☐Organize for Waterman Scholarship: due date August 8th

LOOKING AHEAD:

☐Personal Essay.

☐Get junior year orientation packet.

☐Pi Nary meeting. Projector needed?

☐Call Bennett Pool to arrange for lifeguard lessons?

TWENTY-SEVEN

I DON’T WANT TO MAKE LISTS ANYMORE. I SCRIBBLE out the word “orientation” from my daily planner. I don’t need to write and rewrite things a hundred times. It’s not making me feel any better. Five days. It’s been five days since I talked to Andrew.

My fingers linger over the smooth metal of my cell phone.

Claudia agreed to meet me at the beach and then to go shopping. It’ll be good to have someone else to talk to. I can’t concentrate on my application anymore and I work well under pressure. Also, it stops me from staring at my phone.

An hour later, we’re sitting, my back sticky and hot against the plastic of a beach chair. The sand is well over one hundred degrees. Okay, so I was wrong. The rustling of potato chip bags and the mindless chatter doesn’t distract me from checking my phone endlessly.

“Oh my God, Sarah. Stop it.”

Claudia takes the phone and buries it deep in my NASA bag.

“Ugh. I know,” I say.

“People get in fights. It happens all the time,” she says.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t even responded to my text messages in five days. It’s over. I just have to accept it.”

She leans an elbow on the arm of her beach chair.

“Listen to me. Every time you think about calling or texting him, talk to me instead. If he’s too much of a jerk to accept your apology then screw him.”

It feels better to have a friend nearby.

“Should we head back home a day early?” one tourist asks behind me. All anyone else seems to be talking about is this stupid tropical storm. I wish Nancy would just cancel the party, but I know that’s not an option.

“Tropical storm just means there will be rain and some wind,” the other tourist says. “I don’t want to lose out on the hotel.”

A group of girls wearing string bikinis walk by the waterline. They are tourists, or I would probably recognize them. I’m wearing the American flag string bikini for perhaps the last time. I adjust the triangle top; Scarlett will never let me wear it when she comes home. I wear it because in the fantasy version of my life, Andrew is here on the beach. He recognizes the American flag, walks up to me on the beach, and kisses me. He will have some amazing reason for this silent treatment.

But in the reality version, my phone is silent.

“So I think I have to go home on Friday. My parents want to leave because of the storm too,” Claudia says later that afternoon at Viola’s. She holds a pink bandeau dress up to her frame. “Whatever, at least I’ll get to see the renovations at the theater before everyone else.”

“That sucks. Did you tell them you desperately wanted to stay for my sister’s insanely over-the-top going-away party?”

Claudia laughs. “Of course. But my mom is completely freaked out. When do you start school?”

“September third. I definitely want to see all your plays this year,” I add and pick out a black cocktail dress from the rack. It’s pretty short with spaghetti straps that crisscross and make complicated interlocking patterns across the whole back.

Claudia plops down in a chair by an oversized window that looks out on to the busy main street. “I’m going to miss you!” she says. “I wish we had started hanging out earlier this summer.”

“We’ll have tons of time this year and then all next summer,” I say. She nods and says, “But I wanted to see your aunt’s house. And your telescope.”

“Anytime you want. Come before you leave. Nancy will probably cater the event if I tell her I have a friend coming to the house. She might not let you leave. Ever.”

Claudia laughs and I step behind the familiar curtain of the dressing room. I change into the dress. It’s definitely form fitting. I step out and before the floor length mirror. Only this time, my friend breaks into a huge smile.

“Oh my gosh,” Claudia sits up. “You have to get that.”

Wow. It’s exactly what I’ve been wanting. It’s simple and elegant and makes my legs look long. This girl in the reflection is me—the way I feel inside.

This

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