was a big, stupid thing, but the gist of it was they thought they were better than Natalie and me. I’d been trying to make it work with them since freshman year, ever since it was decided that we were, like, a ‘group,’ but the truth is they acted like my frenemies more than my friends. Finally my brothers pulled me aside and were like, ‘Why are you letting your “friends” treat you like this?’ And I thought, you know, they’re right.”
I was quiet, thinking of Maritza and JaKory. They were nothing like Lydia’s frenemies had been, but there was still a part of me that wanted to pull away from them.
“I’m going through a lesser version of that with my two best friends,” I told her. “I love them more than anything in the world, but sometimes when I’m around them I feel like—like I’m less than the person I want to be. Then I met Ricky and the rest of you, and it was like this whole new side of me got to breathe.”
Lydia’s eyes were on me, studying me. I felt it like a heat lamp.
“Can I tell you about my friends?” I asked her, and in that moment I felt more vulnerable than ever.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes intent on mine. “Of course you can.”
I took a long, deep breath, and then everything came spilling out, everything I loved about Maritza and JaKory even with the complicated feelings I had right now. I told her about how quirky and genuine they were, and how Maritza dressed up as Janice from Friends for Halloween one year, and how JaKory used to have a pet rabbit named Robert Frost, and how they sang me a song when I couldn’t stop crying after I sprained my wrist in PE class, and how we called ourselves JaCoMa for all of seventh grade …
“They sound amazing, Codi,” Lydia said. “I don’t think they’re going anywhere. Maybe you need to breathe right now, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love them.”
I swallowed. The vodka and beer were making me emotional, and I didn’t want to be emotional tonight.
“Well, anyway…” I said, feeling self-conscious. “I’m just glad I met you and your friends.”
Lydia looked hard at me. “You’re really cool, Codi.”
I met her gaze. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
“Sure it is. Everybody’s cool in their own way, once you give them the chance to show you.”
I smiled back at her. “You think so?”
“Yeah, don’t you think that’s how high school works? You go through it with your head up your ass, making judgments about people you don’t even know, but if you can get out of your own way and make room for the people you weren’t expecting, then everything finally clicks.” She shook her head, and the smile slipped from her face. “It takes forever to find your people, and then as soon as you do, you graduate and head to different colleges. You lose each other right when you’re getting to the good stuff.”
I watched her for a moment, how her body went still and her eyelashes caught the glow of the porch lights.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
She looked at me. “Don’t be. It’s just life. And hopefully”—she took a deep breath—“there will be some cool new people waiting for me at GCSU.”
“There will be,” I told her. “You’re going to make a million new friends in college. They’ll flock to you.” I took a breath, feeling my way into something that would make her smile. “Especially if you keep bringing giant popcorn buckets to parties.”
Her mouth twitched. It looked like she was thinking for a second, and then she turned to me and said, “I hope there’s a kernel of truth to that.”
I shook my head, laughing. “Terrible dad joke.”
“Completely terrible,” she agreed, her eyes bright, “but you’re laughing, aren’t you?”
* * *
The night went on. Samuel and Terrica talked me into a game of beer pong, which I played with Leo, who had finally retired from guarding the upstairs, and then Natalie invited me to play King’s Cup with her, Lydia, and a group of people on the family room floor. I’d never played that game before, but it was really funny, especially when people made up rules like “Everyone has to speak in a British accent” and “No pointing at anyone,” which, it turned out, was way harder than you’d think. Then I downed another beer and made some friends in the bathroom line, including the infamous Aliza