Cancelled, p.16
Cancelled, page 16
“How’s it going?”
“You know, I’ve been trying since October, but—I don’t know—nothing was flowing. I wasn’t inspired, I guess.” He looks over at me, meeting my eyes. “But that’s changed.”
I swallow. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, roaring above the sound of the ocean.
I am not allowed to feel this way for Charlie.
“Anyway,” he continues. “What about you? Cadence told me about the gathering tomorrow.”
Relief rolls through me. I needed this subject change. “Yeah, we’re brainstorming for the showcase,” I say. “Did you finish your piece? For the show?”
“Almost.” He digs his left foot deeper into the wet sand. “I’m also helping Grant with his set. He has a drummer and guitarist but needs a pianist. Cadence and I took lessons until freshman year.”
Heat rises in my cheeks, and I tell myself it’s nothing. It’s definitely not a growing crush, even though picturing Charlie playing the piano creates a tingling warmth that I feel all over my skin.
“So promise you won’t make fun,” he finishes.
“Never,” I say quickly. Maybe too quickly. “It’s cool. Really. Girls go crazy for musicians. Own that shit.”
A faint redness flushes over his face. I don’t think he’s used to compliments.
He clears his throat. “Hey, Cadence said Faith was bullying you out of going to prom?”
I scoop a load of wet sand on the top of my foot and kick it into the ocean, pretending it’s Faith Tobinson. “She was getting people to sign her petition under the guise that I was a bad influence at the Halloween dance, but it was really because of the whole Lenora-and-Duncan thing.”
“You shouldn’t let that stop you.”
I move a piece of windswept hair away from my face. “She’s also pubbing a piece about the club in the Gazette that’s . . . less than flattering.” I look out into the ocean. “I’m tired of being the center of things. I want real change, you know? To show them how their actions affect people. Cancel cancel culture.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “Greenlough thinks they’re progressive, but they have a long way to go.”
“Exactly.” I drop my shoulders. “I’m going to admit something. Don’t judge me.”
His thick eyebrows pull together. “I would never.”
And I believe him. “Duncan shit-talking me hurt me in more ways than one, but I still care about Lenora. I wish we were friends. I wish that—” I stop myself. I don’t want to get into that. The reason we’re not. So I go, “Out of everyone, I wish she believed me. She shouldn’t be with Duncan after what he did.”
Charlie gets this knowing look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
Something soft and earnest flashes in his eyes. “It’s very clear to me you still care about Lenora as a friend because you care about people.”
Another wave brushes over our feet. I let that sink in. It’s more or less what I’d said in response to the essay prompt last night. Outside of my educational focus, I like fostering connections. I like improving people’s chances at navigating meaningful conversation. And I like it because I get invested. I care.
Charlie sees it. Mrs. Burchill sees it. If only I can make the entire school see it too.
“I don’t know what else to do,” I admit.
“Well,” he begins. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you. I think the only way through is to keep going.”
* * *
—
On Sunday, we decide to take advantage of the breezy seventy-degree day. The four of us meet up at Temescal Canyon Park to discuss the showcase. Tahlia’s spread an enormous blanket for us to sit on, and Marlowe’s brought a spread of tangerines, apples, Oreos, and Wheat Thins.
For the last half hour, we’ve been talking about how to make a statement at the showcase. Everything Cadence suggests falls under the EXTREME category. Things like freeing the nipple in front of the whole school to crush the unnecessary censoring of women.
“It’s like you’re actively trying to get me expelled,” I say, exasperated.
“I’m sorry, it’s the reckless side of me,” she replies, flipping to a blank sheet of paper in her notebook. “I’ll tone it down.”
But we get stuck after that.
“You know what’s weird?” Tahlia asks, flicking her eyes to me. “Katie Delcavo texted me to see if the club is meeting this week.”
My brows shoot skyward. Showing up at the first meeting was unintentional. Now she wants to come again? On her own?
I hate feeling suspicious, but I can’t help it. I know what’s going in the Gazette tomorrow. Faith could be sending Katie as a spy.
But maybe I’m overreacting. She might want to learn. Isn’t that what she told me after the first meeting? And, okay, I may have a soft spot for Katie because we used to be friends. It’s why I don’t want to believe she’s working with Faith to actively take me down.
“What did you say?” I ask.
“I mean, I told her it was happening.” She fingers a loose thread on the blanket. “We’re welcoming everyone, aren’t we?”
“We can be welcoming and also suspicious,” Marlowe says. “Considering.”
“True, but we can’t make her feel exiled,” Tahlia explains. “We said it’s inclusive.”
It’s true, and we have to lead by example if we want to change the way the student body thinks about acceptance. But I do wonder if Faith has a hidden agenda.
The sun breaks through the marine layer, warm and comforting, and the four of us lie around the woven blanket like cats in a sun puddle. We fall off topic, our conversation switching to sharing our Thanksgiving stories.
“They’re really pushing the Ivies on me,” Tahlia’s saying. Today she’s wearing a stunning emerald-green hijab with rings that match the gemstone coloring. “It’s so much pressure, but it’s all they want to talk about.”
I feel for her. Tahlia has these breakdowns every few months, usually when her parents’ expectations overwhelm her. Most of it comes from her immigrant grandparents insisting that anything other than an Ivy League school is less-than. It’s not like she doesn’t want to go. She applied to Brown, where she wants to study psychology, but she’s also applied to Boston University and the University of Maryland.
“My dad guilts me whenever we talk about those other colleges, then he belittles me in front of family. I was telling my cousins where I’d applied and he basically threatened that I wasn’t going to embarrass him by going to a non-Ivy school. Not to mention he keeps pushing medical school so I can become ‘a real doctor,’ like psychology is a waste of time.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Is there anything you can do to change his mind?”
“I don’t know. We talk in circles whenever I bring it up.” She massages her temples. “God, I’m sorry. I’m being a baby about this, aren’t I?”
Marlowe props herself up on her elbows. “You’re not. It’s hard when family gets involved.”
“It’s true,” Cadence says. “My grandparents immigrated here, too, and I know they put a lot of pressure on my mom. And then she puts a lot of pressure on me, so you can imagine how they took the pregnancy news. I used to get mad, but I think it comes from a good place. They’re always going to want what they think is best for us.”
Tahlia lets out a shaky sigh. “Thanks. I should put this stress away until colleges start sending acceptances, then deal with it.”
Cadence passes her the box of Wheat Thins. “We’re here for you when that happens.”
“Speaking of family,” Marlowe says to me. “How was seeing your dad?”
I roll my eyes. “Surprise, surprise; he never showed.”
Tahlia looks appalled. “That’s awful, Brynn. After he said he wanted to see you?”
“It’s nothing new.” I shrug it off. At this point, I’m used to the men in my life disappointing me. “My mom wanted me to talk to him about helping with college funds, but I doubt he’d be on board. He’s told me before that it shouldn’t be hard for me to land a scholarship.”
“He’s so disconnected from reality!” Cadence exclaims. “He thinks they hand out scholarships these days? Like millions of other kids aren’t vying for the same spots?”
An overpowering sense of unease slams through me. She’s not wrong.
Cadence sees the look on my face and tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know. It’s reality,” I say, stopping her apology before it starts. “It’s why I need to gain people’s trust again. With Smith in rehab, it’s like we’re barely staying afloat.”
I’d followed up with the jobs I’d applied to without any luck. Marlowe suggests going to Palisades Village tomorrow, a luxury square filled with high-end shops. I’m hoping they’ll need holiday hires.
“Is there anything we can do?” Tahlia asks gently.
I shake my head. My mom has always been so certain we can handle things. Even if it’s hard, we get by. She’s made me tough. If there’s anyone who can create a plan to win over my peers and reinstate my side hustle, it’s me.
I grasp for a subject change. “Tell us about your photoshoot with Zoë.”
Marlowe rolls over, cupping her face with her hands. “Do tell us everything.”
“She’s so talented,” Tahlia gushes.
Cadence raises a brow. “With her tongue?”
Tahlia waves the joke aside. “No, with her camera. She’s been entering photography contests, and I know she’s bound to win one.”
“She’s placed before,” Cadence reveals. “Back when Tyla, Devin, and I were friends, we’d enter the same competitions.”
Cadence looks down at her hands, tucking them into her sweatshirt sleeves. I remember the photos in her bedroom, the ones of Tyla and Devin by the pool, laughing. I hate that they dropped her when she needed them the most.
“And what happened after the shoot?” Marlowe prompts.
“Nothing! Well, not nothing. She packed this lunch for us? And we sat on the beach and talked for like, three hours. Then she drove me home, and we’ve texted a lot since.” She rubs her lips together, thinking. “I know she’s bi, though. She mentioned going out with Kelsey Farrow last year. I had no idea.”
“She’s into you,” I say. “I know it.”
Tahlia grins. “Okay, no more talking about it! I don’t want to jinx it.”
The conversation shifts back to the Gazette piece that’s allegedly publishing tomorrow, and a second later, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Adeline
thank you, Brynn. it worked! we’re hanging out later today. :)
I should be overjoyed at the prospect of fifty much-needed dollars hitting our bank account, but the creeping disappointment lingering in the pit of my stomach expands.
I try not to think of Charlie meeting up with Adeline. I haven’t told my friends that I’m helping her. It’s a matter of privacy. And I certainly haven’t mentioned my growing crush on Charlie. If it was a weed, it would have overtaken an entire garden. But it’s not right to intentionally compromise results for Adeline. I need to let it go. To move on.
“Faith wants to call out Brynn in her Showcase act,” Marlowe’s saying.
This gets my attention. I put my phone away. “So we have to be one step ahead.”
“But”—Cadence glances at me—“we don’t stoop to her level. It undermines our group and what we stand for.”
“What if we somehow call out people for siding with Duncan?” Tahlia proposes. “He’s the one who cheated on Lenora, and he still has people’s sympathy despite that.”
Cadence gets this fiery look behind her eyes. “So we change that perception.”
“What, like cancel Duncan?” Marlowe jokes.
“We don’t,” Cadence insists. “If we play our cards right, they’ll do it for us.”
Now the wheels in my head are spinning, pieces slotting together. “Can we directly call out Duncan like that?”
“Faith is apparently calling you out,” Marlowe counters.
I take this in. “So . . . we’ll be coy,” I say. “We’ll indirectly call him out.”
Marlowe glances at Tahlia, then back at me. “What do you mean?”
We can make a point on a larger scale without breaking school rules. I’m sure of it. Last year, a senior roasted every single Greenlough teacher during his Showcase performance. Maybe this is our one chance to push boundaries. To make a statement. To remind students that Duncan isn’t a good person.
And then it hits me.
“Trust me,” I say, a surge of excitement plummeting through me. “I’ve got this.”
18
“Did you read the Gazette?”
“It was . . . bold.”
“Did Faith even go to the meeting, though?”
We’ve set my idea for the Senior Showcase into motion, but the tricky part is getting Miss Rothman’s permission without letting her know too much. We don’t want to get her in trouble, but we’re going to have to go behind her back if we want my plan to work.
Unfortunately, that is the furthest thing from my mind today. Faith’s article made it into the Greenlough Gazette, and it’s all anyone wants to talk about on Monday. Just when we’d made some real progress with the Post-it wall, which has also mysteriously disappeared.
It’s infuriating. I’m concerned people will stop showing up to our meetings, which is what Faith wants. She thinks we’re corrupting students with our sexual agenda, or whatever lie she’s told herself.
Because I’m feeling fiery, I corner her in the hall after school. She doesn’t expect my presence, placing a hand over her heart when she sees me.
“You scared me.” Her eyes narrow. “Can I help you?”
“Why did you write that piece for the Gazette and conveniently leave out that you didn’t attend our meeting?” I demand.
“It’s an opinion piece, Brynn. Am I not allowed to have an opinion?” she huffs. “You told me to form my own, remember?”
I feel an irritated muscle in my jaw twitch. Great. My loud sassmouth is what got me into this mess.
It takes everything in me to keep my voice calm. “You can have an opinion when you have all the information.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says, her voice hardening.
“Okay, sure. Fine.” I fold my arms. “So you want to tell me why I keep hearing these Showcase rumors?”
“Oh, please. It’s not all about you all the time, you know.”
“You sure make it seem like it is.”
“Why don’t you just apologize to Lenora and put this all behind you?” Faith asks, as though it’s that simple.
“Because I refuse to apologize for something I didn’t do!” I shout.
Faith sighs like she’s disappointed in me, but she doesn’t say anything else. Well, whatever. I don’t know what I expected from this conversation. What a waste of time.
We’re interrupted by a pair of clacking heels. I glance over my shoulder and see Mrs. Burchill heading toward us.
“Faith,” she says by way of greeting. “Brynn. Did you both have a good Thanksgiving break?”
“Yes, thank you,” Faith’s voice is raised a few octaves, the tone she puts on when she’s sucking up to teachers.
Mrs. Burchill gives me a pointed look. “My door is always open, Brynn.”
She would remind me. Little does she know I have it all figured out.
The Senior Showcase is going to change everything.
* * *
—
After school, Marlowe and I decide to study at Sticks and Scones. The bakery’s name is an ode to New Found Glory’s 2002 album, Sticks and Stones, which I only know because I asked. Every single pastry is named after pop punk songs from the early ’00s, and they always play the best alternative music.
We’re sitting at my usual corner table, notebooks spread out before us, but that’s not what currently has my attention.
“See, I can’t defend you when you say things like that,” Charlie’s saying, twirling my pen between his fingers.
But I’m relentless. “Iron Man 3 is a Christmas movie!”
To be fair, Charlie approached me. And I had no idea he was working today.
“It takes place during Christmas—” Charlie starts.
“Therefore making it a Christmas movie.”
“Not the same.”
“Marlowe. Help me out,” I beg.
Marlowe raises her hands in surrender. “Never seen it. This one’s on you.”
Two customers walk in and begin perusing the menu. Charlie returns my pen to me, then he stands, pulling on his hair net as he tucks in the chair he was occupying with his foot.
“That,” I say, “is incredibly sexy.”
“You,” he mimics, “are a liar.”
I pretend to be offended. “I don’t lie when it comes to health and safety uniforms.”
Charlie leans in close, lowering his voice. The proximity sends a wave of flutters through me. “Maybe they’re here to offer me a modeling contract.”
I blink away my swell of longing. “They saw the exquisite hairnet and thought, A masterpiece! We MUST have him.”
Laughing, Charlie returns to the register. As he takes their order, we catch each other’s eyes. I circle a finger around my head and then begin to playfully fan myself. When their attention is diverted, he tosses me a spirited middle finger.
When I turn back to Marlowe, she’s smiling. “You two have gotten close.”
“We’re friends,” I say, hoping I sound casual. Because we are. Friends. That’s it.
I decide I need to change the topic, so I walk her through my interaction with Faith today, which has left me feeling rage-twitchy.
