The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [17]
“That certainly was nice of him.”
“Yeah, well, I was helping him with the SATs.”
My mother laughs. “Oh, honey, I’m sure you were, but you know the Coles can afford a private tutor.” She’s not saying this to be mean—she means it like, See, that was just his excuse to get to spend time with you, because he likes you.
I try to pretend that I haven’t been thinking the same thing myself. I try to pretend that I’m not every bit as curious as she is about his sudden interest in me.
“I know they can, but I think he was just trying to make me feel better about needing help in physics.”
“What a gentleman.” She takes a bite of her food. “Of course, it’s such a shame about the daughter.”
I look up at her sharply. “The daughter? Do you mean Kate?”
“Yes. Oh, honey, haven’t you heard?” I shake my head. “Well, I don’t know the details of it, but apparently she’s very sick. Didn’t you know? Hasn’t she been missing school lately?”
“Yeah.” I chew thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen her, actually, in almost a week. More.”
“Oh dear. They’re such a lovely family.” I nod, not really paying attention anymore (honestly, what does it matter whether they’re a lovely family or not?), but wondering what’s the matter with Kate, what kind of sickness she has. Kate, the girl who thinks I’m cool. And pretty.
My mother continues, “You know my friend Marian?” I nod. “Well, she’s friends with Ellie Swift, who’s practically best friends with Joanie Cole, Jeremy’s mom?” I nod again. “Well, apparently Ellie told Marian that Kate Cole is sick—she wouldn’t tell her with what, didn’t want to betray Joanie’s confidence.”
“It’s a little late for that,” I cut in, realizing as I say it how mean it sounds.
My mother looks startled. “What? Well anyhow, it’s quite serious. Marian said obviously Joanie’s in denial about it, but she—Marian—can tell it’s really very serious.”
My mother could be a seventh grader, sharing gossip by the lockers. In my head, I see her in a pleated skirt, textbooks in her arms; I picture her gossiping with Marian and Ellie outside the lunchroom. I try not to wonder about Kate. With my mother’s tendency toward hyperbole, Kate’s illness might be something relatively minor, like a severe case of the flu or something—enough to keep her out of school, but nothing that could do any permanent damage. Jeremy would have told me if there was anything more serious.
Well, actually, of course he wouldn’t. He never tells me anything about himself, and come to think of it, I never tell him anything about myself. We limit our conversations to school, studying, and Anorexic Alexis. That’s pretty much it.
And certainly if it was serious, Jeremy wouldn’t have come by to smoke every night like that. He would have been home with his family. Why would he want to stand on a corner with me at a time like that?
My mother and I go shopping after brunch. We walk down Madison, from the Eighties to the Seventies, stopping in little boutiques along the way. My mother is on an accessories kick. She picks out belts, and for the first time I notice that maybe her fashion sense isn’t as perfect as I used to think. She always seemed so glamorous to me: the best-dressed mom when she took me to school, not like the moms who showed up in the morning wearing sweats or leggings, looking like they just got out of bed. No, my mother had outfits; she dressed up for everything. Now I wonder who she was trying to impress. She picks out shoes much flashier than I would ever wear, and I’m a teenager. I want to tell her they’re not right, but I think she’d get mad, or hurt. So I keep my thoughts to myself and we continue down Madison, on to the next store. In the Seventies, there’s one block where the sidewalk is paved differently than it is anyplace else. The cement literally shines in the sunlight; there are sparkles on the sidewalk. When I was little, I used to imagine the street was paved with gold and silver for the princes and princesses walking across it, and even for me. I concentrate