Elaine and Mark don’t know each other very well. The only thing those two have in common is me, and I get the feeling they’re not crazy about each other. Well, it’s more than just a feeling. Mark thinks Elaine talks too much, and Elaine thinks Mark is dull. The three of us don’t hang out together much anyway. When it’s Elaine and me, it’s just us, and when it’s Mark and me, it’s just us too. If truth be told, I like it better that way.
When we get to Sherilyn’s house, most of the other kids are already there. Mairi Stevenson and Hadley Smith are sunning on deck chairs. Mairi is wearing a pink two-piece, and Hadley, a yellow polka dot one. (I saw both of those bikinis at the mall, but Mama said she thought a bikini on a twelve-year-old girl was absolutely ridiculous. I think it was because they cost sixty dollars, but Mama would never admit that there was something we couldn’t afford. She’s a good one for making excuses when it comes to spending money.) Sherilyn’s bustling around the food table in a zebra-print tankini. The boys—Kyle, Jack, Tommy, and Hugh Sasser—are in the pool splashing one another.
With the exception of Elaine, us Clementon kids have known each other for most of our lives. We grew up together, learned to ride bikes together, took swimming lessons at the YMCA together. We used to all be friends, at least in the general sense. Somehow the cream of our crop rose to the top, and it’s clear we’re not all friends anymore. I have a feeling that this will be the last neighborhood back-to-school pool party at Sherilyn’s house.
Before Elaine, Sherilyn was my closest girl friend. I still like Sherilyn, but after so many years of knowing each other, the little things started to pile up and bug me. She cares way too much about what Mairi and Hadley think. It’s embarrassing. Even when we were little, she was rushing to impress them, rushing to anything them, and she just never measured up. Once Mairi and Hadley and that kind of girl decide you’re not good enough, you never will be. You just won’t. And the sooner you realize that, the better. Sherilyn has never figured it out. She’s so eager to please and imitate that she ends up going overboard.
Like the way her clothes never look right. Mrs. Tallini still picks her school clothes out, and she usually has the right idea, but she takes a good thing too far. If miniskirts are in, Sherilyn will show up in a purple miniskirt with lace trim, plus dangling beads and maybe rhinestones. I do feel slightly guilty for dropping Sherilyn for Elaine, but I didn’t really have a choice. Elaine and I are soul sisters. What could I do?
Mark throws his towel on a picnic table and dives into the water. We say hi to the girls, and then Elaine and I spread out our beach towels. We’re both reluctant to take off our clothes with everybody there pretending not to look. Elaine unbuckles her overalls, and I throw my T-shirt off in a flash. Why prolong the agony? Elaine’s skin is tan and smooth, and I wish I could cover up all my freckles.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boys watching us. Elaine and I pretend not to notice, and I know that she’s just as aware of the boys as I am. We’re doing pretty well until the boys start to snicker, and even then we keep our cool. But then I hear the boys guffawing, and that is pretty hard to ignore.
“I like your bikini, Elaine,” Hugh Sasser calls out, and everyone guffaws some more. Hugh is the second cutest boy in our grade, after Kyle Montgomery. He makes red hair and freckles look good.
Elaine lifts her head up from the towel, and her hair swings like a silk curtain across her cheek. “I just bet you do, Huey.” Her tone is dry, and she rolls her eyes, but I know she is pleased. Elaine knows how to play the game. I look over at Mairi and Hadley, and Hadley looks like she just swallowed a cactus. Hadley’s had her eye on Hugh forever.
Later Sherilyn’s mom brings out a couple of pizzas, and of course the boys stumble out of the pool and fall onto the pizzas like wild beasts. They’re dripping pool water all over the food, and I elbow my way in to get a couple of pieces of pepperoni before they’re either soggy or gone. As I inhale my first piece, I overhear Mairi announce that she’s on a no-carb diet. Hadley says she wouldn’t eat greasy pizza anyway, and Sherilyn looks crestfallen.
Lightly, I say, “Didn’t I see you guys eating pizza at the mall last week? Wasn’t that you two?” I’m treading extra softly, because challenging Mairi Stevenson in public just isn’t done.
“I doubt it,” Mairi says coldly. “We don’t eat pizza.”
“I thought I saw you guys there too,” Kyle says. “At Pizza Expresso.”
Mairi turns to Kyle and smiles, and it’s like I’m not even there anymore. She tilts her chin to one side and coos, “Then why didn’t you come over and say hey?” Her thick lashes flutter like twin butterflies. I swear, Mairi Stevenson thinks she’s Scarlett O’Hara reincarnated.
I want to say, he didn’t come over and say hey because the two of you were too busy stuffing your faces with pizza and he didn’t want to interrupt. But I don’t dare. I can’t afford to burn any bridges with those two. Once they decide to freeze you out, you’re done for. I’ve seen it happen. I’m hanging off the side of a precipice as it is, and the only thing keeping me there is Elaine. I look at her, and she shakes her head slightly.
No one mentions my green one-piece or me until I hear Jack Connelly say, “Her chest is flatter than my back. It’s flatter than that diving board.” I know he’s talking about me, and I want to kill him. I would do it with my bare hands and a smile on my face.
My face is burning and I struggle to keep it devoid of expression, perfectly blank. I have to focus on my rage, or else I will cry. If I cry even one tear because of that cretin, I will never ever forgive myself.
For my sake Elaine is busy pretending she didn’t hear a word. She is nattering on about getting a better tan before school starts. “I hardly got tan at all this summer—”
“Jack Connelly is an ass,” I hiss.
Elaine whispers, “Just forget it, Annemarie. He’s a moron. He has the IQ of a cockroach.”
“More like a gnat. A dead, squashed-up gnat.”
Full of spite, I jump into the pool. The guys are doing cannonballs off the new diving board Sherylin’s dad bought at the beginning of the summer. Wading to the deep end, I bide my time and wait until Jack is just about to jump. At the top of my lungs, I yell, “Choke, Connelly, you big jackass!”
He stumbles and belly flops into the pool. The guys laugh, and I feel somewhat vindicated. When Jack resurfaces, he snarls, “That was so lame, Annemarie. I’d like to see you do better.”