she can carry off almost anything, including the lopsided neckline and the weirdo bow, but the color looks muddy on her.” Annie scrolled through a menu on her phone. “Mon, let me take a picture and send it to Emily. Just in case the sight of us actually in these dresses can bring her to her senses.”
The woman on the floor finished pinning Monica’s hem and stood up. “Oh, I think they’re very flattering,” she said.
“We know you mean well,” Annie said, waving the woman away. To us, she muttered, “She’s paid to say that.”
• • •
The dress did look as bad on me as I thought it would, the bow resembling a second, less-defined head sitting on my shoulder, the color giving my skin a reptilian hue. I collapsed into the chair next to Annie.
“What did Emily say about the pictures?”
“That she’s all tied up with wedding stuff; she’ll get back to us later.”
“I can’t believe she’s actually getting married.” Emily was only a year older than Monica and I; she was the same age as Annie.
“When I tell people she’s getting married at eighteen, they all ask if she’s pregnant. And I say, ‘No, just stupid.’”
I snorted. “Don’t you think she and Brian are good together, though?”
“Oh, Brian’s fine. But he’s only nineteen. They’re talking about the rest of their lives . I don’t even know what color sheets to get for my room next year, and they’re making lifetime decisions.”
“I know.” I thought about pairing up with Connor for the rest of my life, and something squirmed inside me. Not about Connor himself—because right now, I loved being with him. But it was bad enough to think of the commitment it would take to become a doctor: the years ahead of me, laid out in a planned track. I didn’t want to lock up too much of my life too soon.
• • •
I took another stab at calculus that night, but didn’t get very far. Monica and Annie said that the exam should be easy since it was open book, but I told them what Connor and I hadalways said: These exams are worse because what open book means is that the book can’t save you .
I couldn’t work on it anyway, because I had to answer a Frantic Bride call from Emily. I didn’t have the heart to complain about the pineapple monstrosities while she freaked out about the fact that forty of Brian’s relatives still hadn’t RSVPed and the caterer was demanding the final count, and Brian’s uncles were too busy arguing about who was going to drive whom to the ceremony and whether Brian’s cousins could afford to miss their karate class, and nobody wanted to sit in a car with Great Aunt Sophie for three hours. And then I had to soothe Emily’s worries that her hair wasn’t going to look right because she’d just cut it, and what on earth had made her cut her hair so soon before the wedding? She just knew she was going to look totally ugly and weird. Her older sister had had a terrible hairdo on her wedding day.
“It looked like a giant toadstool on her head,” Emily moaned.
“I promise you, your hair will not look like a toadstool,” I said. And I promise you, I will never ever get married if this is what it’s like , I added silently. “You’re going to look beautiful. Everything will go fine. Everyone who needs to be there will be there.”
And she believed me for about three minutes, before she started agonizing all over again.
By the time I got off the phone, exhausted from surfing the giant wave of Emily’s emotions, I glanced at the calculus book and couldn’t even bring myself to pick it up. Tomorrow, I promised myself, and popped a chocolate brain in my mouth. Maybe the peanut butter would be good for my neurons.
• • •
On Sunday afternoon we met at Connor’s house, and shuffledthrough the pages of our calculus books. Then he started rubbing his foot against my calf, and I stroked his shoulder blade, and then the books were on the floor and his tongue was in my mouth. Emily
The woman on the floor finished pinning Monica’s hem and stood up. “Oh, I think they’re very flattering,” she said.
“We know you mean well,” Annie said, waving the woman away. To us, she muttered, “She’s paid to say that.”
• • •
The dress did look as bad on me as I thought it would, the bow resembling a second, less-defined head sitting on my shoulder, the color giving my skin a reptilian hue. I collapsed into the chair next to Annie.
“What did Emily say about the pictures?”
“That she’s all tied up with wedding stuff; she’ll get back to us later.”
“I can’t believe she’s actually getting married.” Emily was only a year older than Monica and I; she was the same age as Annie.
“When I tell people she’s getting married at eighteen, they all ask if she’s pregnant. And I say, ‘No, just stupid.’”
I snorted. “Don’t you think she and Brian are good together, though?”
“Oh, Brian’s fine. But he’s only nineteen. They’re talking about the rest of their lives . I don’t even know what color sheets to get for my room next year, and they’re making lifetime decisions.”
“I know.” I thought about pairing up with Connor for the rest of my life, and something squirmed inside me. Not about Connor himself—because right now, I loved being with him. But it was bad enough to think of the commitment it would take to become a doctor: the years ahead of me, laid out in a planned track. I didn’t want to lock up too much of my life too soon.
• • •
I took another stab at calculus that night, but didn’t get very far. Monica and Annie said that the exam should be easy since it was open book, but I told them what Connor and I hadalways said: These exams are worse because what open book means is that the book can’t save you .
I couldn’t work on it anyway, because I had to answer a Frantic Bride call from Emily. I didn’t have the heart to complain about the pineapple monstrosities while she freaked out about the fact that forty of Brian’s relatives still hadn’t RSVPed and the caterer was demanding the final count, and Brian’s uncles were too busy arguing about who was going to drive whom to the ceremony and whether Brian’s cousins could afford to miss their karate class, and nobody wanted to sit in a car with Great Aunt Sophie for three hours. And then I had to soothe Emily’s worries that her hair wasn’t going to look right because she’d just cut it, and what on earth had made her cut her hair so soon before the wedding? She just knew she was going to look totally ugly and weird. Her older sister had had a terrible hairdo on her wedding day.
“It looked like a giant toadstool on her head,” Emily moaned.
“I promise you, your hair will not look like a toadstool,” I said. And I promise you, I will never ever get married if this is what it’s like , I added silently. “You’re going to look beautiful. Everything will go fine. Everyone who needs to be there will be there.”
And she believed me for about three minutes, before she started agonizing all over again.
By the time I got off the phone, exhausted from surfing the giant wave of Emily’s emotions, I glanced at the calculus book and couldn’t even bring myself to pick it up. Tomorrow, I promised myself, and popped a chocolate brain in my mouth. Maybe the peanut butter would be good for my neurons.
• • •
On Sunday afternoon we met at Connor’s house, and shuffledthrough the pages of our calculus books. Then he started rubbing his foot against my calf, and I stroked his shoulder blade, and then the books were on the floor and his tongue was in my mouth. Emily
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