“You come late, you pay the price. No dinner.”
“Are you kidding?”
I look at Sara, who is staring at our dad like he’s a stranger.
“Go to your room,” he says.
“What am I, ten?”
My dad slams his fist on the table. “Don’t you talk to me in that tone! I said go!” Now he’s scaring me.
Holden looks around at each of us as if to say, Has Dad gone crazy?
My mom reaches out for my dad’s arm like that will help calm him down, but he brushes her off.
“Come on, Dad. Let him have some dinner,” Sara says.
“Don’t!” my dad yells. “Don’t tell me what to do! You shouldn’t be hanging around with that . . . that boy. He’s too old. It’s not right.”
“Oh, give me a break. You don’t care how old he is. Why don’t you say what you’re really afraid of, Dad?”
“Stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re afraid he’s my boyfriend. You’re afraid that I’m gay. Well, guess what? You’re right! Is everyone happy now? I’m gay and Gray is my boyfriend, and you’re just going to have to deal with it!”
My dad stands up and stumbles, knocking his chair over. “No. I do not have to deal with it! That boy is too old for you! He’s probably eighteen or nineteen, for God’s sake. You are fourteen years old, Holden!”
“George, please calm down,” my mom says quietly. “Holden, we support you.”
“We most certainly do not!” my dad yells. “It would be one thing if you were seeing someone your age. But this is unacceptable!”
“I support you,” I say. “Gray is nice. Who cares if he’s older?”
“Me, too,” says Sara. “Gray’s OK, Dad. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t care if he’s OK. He is too old for Holden, and that’s final.”
“What do you mean ‘that’s final’?”
“You’re not to see him again.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“George, let’s talk about this later,” my mom says quietly. “You’ve obviously had too much to drink.”
“Forget it. I’m outta here,” Holden says. “This family is insane.”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” My dad starts to walk toward Holden, but he’s already out of reach. The door slams as Holden takes off once again.
My dad just stands there, as if he doesn’t even know how he ended up where he is.
This is the time in the conversation when Charlie should be piping up with some random comment to break the tension. It’s quiet, as if we’re still waiting for him. It’s strangling us.
“I give up,” my dad finally says. “I just give up.” He storms upstairs.
My mom drinks the rest of her wine and goes after him.
“That went well,” Sara says sarcastically.
“I’ve never seen Dad like that,” I say.
“He’ll come around. He’s just drunk. I think he was really worried when Holden was late — that’s all. He just freaked out. It’s normal to worry more after everything that’s happened. He’ll be fine once he gets used to the idea of Holden and Gray.”
“You really think so?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. I do. He’s just crazy right now. I mean, he’s always a little crazy, but —”
“But not mean. Not like tonight.”
“Don’t worry, Fern. Mom’ll talk to him.”
“What about Holden?”
“Holden knows how to take care of himself. He always has. And thank God his secret is finally officially out of the bag. At least now we can all stop pretending.”
She gets up and starts clearing the table, so I do, too.
“Dad’ll come around, Fern,” she says. “I know he will.”
Right. And Mom will get back to normal. And everything is going to be fine. All will be well. Maybe we can stop pretending about Holden. But what about everyone else?
ALL THAT WEEK, Holden and my dad avoid each other. After school, Gray picks up Holden, me, and now Cassie and Ran, and we go to the restaurant to do our homework. Mona brings us snacks, and we make our own sundaes. Then they leave. Somehow, this gets me through the week. But every day away from that day makes me feel more lost and away from Charlie. So the first thing I do when I get home is go to my room, shut the door, and listen to his voice.
The following Monday, Sara’s back on car duty. On our way to school, Holden turns around toward me and grins. “So, Fern, did Ran ask you to Homecoming yet?”
I feel myself blush. “No. We’re just friends. Plus I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t feel like having fun.”
“Oh, come on, Fern. It would be good for you,” Sara says.
“It totally would,” Holden says. “And Ran is so cute.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Then go as friends!” Holden says.
I picture me and Ran at the dance. Me in a dress, him in a shirt and tie. We look strange. Ran and I belong in T-shirts and jeans.
“Isn’t anyone going to ask who I’m going with?” Holden asks. He’s smiling like a goofball. He looks like he did that night he came home just before my dad went psycho.
“Seriously?” Sara asks.
“Yup. I told Gray about it last night, and he said yes.”
“Wow,” I say.
“We’re going shopping for tuxes after school. Want to come with us, Fern?”
“You’d want me there?”
“Yeah! It’ll be great! Gray will take us after school. We could totally use a girl’s opinion.”
I eye him carefully. Does he really want to go there with Gray? As a couple? What if the Things see them? Well, I guess if they’re at Homecoming, they’ll see them anyway. You’re brave, I think. You’re really brave. But out loud I just say, “OK.”
Sara clears her throat, and Holden stops smiling. “What?”
“Are you going to tell Dad?”
Holden sighs. “Eventually. Let me enjoy a few stress-free days, all right? Jeez.”
“Hey, I’m happy for you! I just want you to be realistic about this. You do remember Dad’s little freak-out, right?”
“He’ll come around.”
“I know, but this might be a bit too much too soon for him.”
“Too bad. This is how it is.” Holden turns away and stares out the window.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to bum you out. You’re right. It’ll be fine.”
But she doesn’t sound very convincing.
I lean back in my seat and feel the emptiness beside me. For five minutes, it felt like we were our regular family again. I put my hand on the seat where Charlie should be and close my eyes. I try to feel something. I’m not sure what. Just . . . Charlie. I think about the poem the minister read at the funeral. When all that’s left of me is love, give me away. And I wonder how he could believe that makes any sense. All I want to do is hold on. I press my hand down on the seat and try again to feel some trace of him. Some light tingle that says, I’m here. But before I know it, the car stops and we’re at the drop-off lane and it’s time to get out.
After school, I meet Holden and Gray out front, and we head to Manny’s Tails. The store is crowded with circular racks of black and gray fabric. Holden is practically bouncing, he’s so excited. Gray is calm and cool, as usual. Maybe even more than usual.
Before we can start exploring, a tiny man in a dark suit comes up to us. “Hello, folks.” He eyes each of us up and down. “How can I help you today?”
“We want to rent two tuxes,” Holden says.
Suit man claps his hands together. “Is this for the homecoming dance at the high school?”
“Yeah,” Gray says unexcitedly.
Suit man steps back and looks both Holden and Gray up and down again, squinting one eye.
“I bet you’re a thirty-six regular,” he says, sizing up Holden. “And you’re about a forty-two. I’ll be right back. I’m Manny, by the
way!” he calls from behind a rack.
Holden gushes at Gray. “Should we get matching?” he asks.
“No way,” Gray says coolly. “That’s so gay.”
Holden laughs and elbows him.
“OK, here we are, guys,” the salesman says. “And which of these studs is your man, honey?” he asks me.
I snort and Holden laughs again. Gray smirks. “I’m his sister,” I say, pointing at Holden.
“She’s our fashion consultant,” Holden adds.
“I see.” Manny holds out a jacket for each of them. “You boys get sent on a mission from your girls? That’s nice they trust you. Most girls come with their boyfriends and make all the decisions.”
Holden and Gray don’t say anything. Gray seems to shrug off the comment as no big deal, but Holden looks like he’s trying to decide if he should tell Manny the truth. They button up their jackets, and Manny steps back to inspect them. “Yes,” he says, nodding at Gray. “No,” he says, shaking his finger at Holden. “I’ll be right back.”
Gray walks over to the mirror to check his jacket. “It looks great,” Holden says. “Let me try it.”
“It would be way too big for you,” Gray says. He turns this way and that, checking himself out. I’m starting to wonder what Holden likes about him. He’s nice enough, but beyond the cool car and expensive clothes, what else is there?
“Here ya go, bud,” Manny says to Holden when he comes back. Holden trades jackets with him. The new one definitely looks better.
“Let me get you guys some dress shirts to put on under those so you can get the full effect. Then I’ll measure you for pants.”
Holden and Gray disappear into the changing rooms with their shirts. In the far corner of the shop, I see a single rack of gowns of every color imaginable. I go over and start sliding them across the rack, checking each one. The silky material feels so fine and fancy. I try to imagine myself in one of these, holding someone’s hand.
“Sorry, hon. Those aren’t for sale. We just use them for the mannequins.”
“Oh.” I blush and quickly pull my hand away from the fabric.
Back by the big mirror, Holden and Gray strut around in their tuxes.
“Coupla studs, huh?” Manny says, elbowing me.
“Yeah,” I say.
Holden winks at me. But so far, that’s about the first time he’s even noticed me since we got here. I don’t know why he wanted me to come so much if he was just going to ignore me.
When they decide on their styles, Manny asks them what color their dates’ dresses are, and if they want matching cummerbunds and ties. Again Holden looks at Gray. Maybe he’s waiting for Gray to tell the guy the truth. But Gray just clears his throat and says, “We want black ties. No cummerbunds.”
“Classy,” Manny says.
Holden frowns and fiddles with the collar on his shirt. I wonder if he’s thinking what I am: Phony.
“Let me write all this up for you while you change, and then you can give me your deposits,” Manny tells them.
“I’ll be outside,” I say. I leave them in the store and stand out on the sidewalk. The street is busy and smells like car fumes and Dumpster. I look inside the shop window at the mannequins on display. The man mannequin holds the lady mannequin’s hand. The lady wears a pink prom dress. They smile in their permanent way, as if they will never have anything happen to them to wipe the happiness away. It’s sort of how Charlie looked. Always happy. Never worried. Even when he was grouchy, he still had that happy way about him. Just like Charlie in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Life was a wonder.
I reach forward and put my hand on the glass window and remember the scene in the book when Charlie gets to ride in the great glass elevator, rising up above everything and everyone, like a shooting star going in the wrong direction. Tears begin to drip down the side of my face faster than I can wipe them away. I realize I haven’t cried yet today. And I’m not sure if I cried yesterday. And now I can’t stop.
When Holden and Gray come out of the store, Holden is beaming. Gray is Mr. Cool. I let my hair fall across my face so they can’t see I’m crying. But I don’t need to worry because neither of them even looks at me.
We get in the car, and Gray cranks the radio. I don’t ask where we’re going next. Five minutes later, they pull up to Harry’s and I climb out.
“Tell Mom I’ll be home in time for dinner!” Holden says happily. As soon as I climb out, the car takes off.
It’s sunny and a bit warm. I walk to the picnic tables and sit down. I find our names and trace Charlie’s again with my finger. Over by the loading area, I can see the delivery truck. My dad asked Dwayne, Trevor, and Gil to paint over Charlie, but the paint they used was the wrong kind, and Charlie’s face is starting to show through. His messy smile.
Whenever my parents’ friends met Charlie for the first time, they would study his face, then look at each of us. “He looks just like his mother,” they’d say. Or, “Looks like Holden at that age.” People were always looking for traces of us in Charlie. But now I wonder if it will be the other way around. Will they stare at us, searching for traces of him?
When I go inside, Ran and Cassie are sitting at Charlie’s table sharing a sundae. “Finally!” Cassie says. “Where’ve you been?”
I walk over to them and sit next to Cassie.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask.
“It’s our new thing,” Ran says. “Remember?”
I just say, “Oh.”
“And we also have an important announcement to make,” Cassie says. She looks too happy. Did she finally get Ran to go out with her? Why is my heart starting to ache?
“You do?” I say quietly.
“Yup! We’re all going to Homecoming together. You, me, and Ran.”
“As friends,” Ran adds. “We think it will be good for you.”
“It’s all decided,” Cassie adds. “And I even have something for you to wear. So you can’t say no because you don’t have a single excuse.”
“Wow,” I say. “You thought of everything.”
“We really did!” Cassie says.
I think she is going to explode with excitement.
“This is going to be great!” Holden says later that night when I tell him the news. He’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a palm of hair gel. There’s a magazine cutout of a guy’s head taped to the bathroom mirror. His hair is shaggy, but in a perfectly sculpted sort of way.
“I’m going to wear my hair like this for the dance. What do you think?”
I inspect his head from all sides. “Kind of shiny,” I say.
“The gel will dry.”
“I guess I like it, then,” I say. “It looks . . . different.”
“Boy, Fern, way to lay on the charm. What’ll you do with your hair? I think you should wear it up.”
I shrug. I’m starting to dread the whole thing. Cassie and Ran will look beautiful. I know this. Because they just naturally are. And then there I will be looking frumpy in some hand-me-down dress with my mousy hair, and it will be obvious that the only reason I am there is because they feel sorry for me.
“So how are you getting to the dance?” Holden asks. “Because I think Gray and I will want to go alone in his car. Nothing personal but . . .”
“Cassie’s parents will take us,” I say. “And Sara will pick us up after.”
He nods and turns his head this way and that, making sure he looks great from every angle. He doesn’t even seem to notice when I leave him there and go to my room. I’m not his Phoebe anymore. Maybe I never really was.
I shut my door and pull out the answering machine from under my bed. I plug it in, sit on the floor, and hold it to my ear as Charlie quietly comes alive to promise me a lie.
ALL THAT WEEK, school buzzes with Homecoming preparations. There’s a pep rally and a million announcements about how the dance will be alcohol free and that the dress code will be strictly enforced. And that because this is a schoolwide e
vent, the high schoolers are expected to be the perfect role models for the middle schoolers. And there will be plenty of chaperones to make sure they are.
Every time I see Cassie in the hall, she gushes about some detail of our plans that she forgot. Ran just smiles quietly.
On Friday afternoon, the three of us are standing at our lockers before our final study hall. Cassie tells me how we all have to go to her house after school so I can try on my dress. I don’t explain that it seems very late to be trying on my dress. What if it doesn’t fit?
“We’re the same size, and it fits me perfectly,” she says.
I don’t point out that we are not the same size. Cassie has these two things coming out of her chest — way out — that I do not yet have. I look there automatically and then quickly turn away, but my eyes catch Ran’s and we both blush like crazy.
Luckily, the bell rings and I rush away from both of them to study hall before Cassie can make me promise I’ll go. I sit in the crowded room with my elbows on my desk, my hands over my ears, trying to shut out the sound of happy chatter about the stupid dance. I watch Mrs. Dribble — who doesn’t even seem to mind the noise for the first time in history — sip her secret potion, until our eyes meet and she gives me this horrible look of sympathy, like she knows how I must feel right now. Like she is so sorry for me. So I close my eyes and try to shut her out, too.
At Cassie’s house, Cassie tells me to go into the upstairs bathroom and that everything I need will be hanging on the shower-curtain rod. I walk down the hall and pause in the doorway, almost afraid to look. But hanging over the bathtub is not the frumpy, hot-pink bridesmaid-style dress that I imagined, but a simple silver dress. It has pretty little sleeves, and the skirt part is covered with a second layer of something sheer, so that when the dress moves, the fabric looks alive.
I shut the door and quickly undress and slip the gown over my head. When I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror behind the door, I have to peer closer at my face to make sure it’s really me.
The dark circles under my eyes match the gray fabric. But when I fake-smile, they disappear a little, and I can see the old me there. I turn, letting the skirt swish around my legs. When I look down, I see a pair of pretty silver ballet slippers next to the tub. I put them on and stare at myself.