A Recipe for Disaster

teenage dream

For Oliver Lucas Anderson, Marrissa Jane Mckayle, and Malerie Richard, thank you for being my muse for writing this, but I still hate you guys. And thanks to my family, I actually love you guys.

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When people say high school is "the best time of your life," they were probably homeschooled. 

Because waking up at 5:30 AM, getting stuck in hallway traffic jams, thinking people are staring at you when they couldn't care less, and teachers who act like being two minutes late to class will make you homeless isn't exactly "the best time of your life."

Honestly, it's the worst part of life—and the most confusing, especially if you're like me: a 5'4", mildly annoying, love-blind teenage girl who had a crush on her best friend but didn't know it at the time because she was a love-blind idiot.

It was a week before school, and I actually couldn't wait to go back. I felt like this year would be different. For one, I felt more confident. I'd studied my subjects over the summer and gotten a tan (which was slowly fading but still a little visible!).

But the best part? I'd finally get to see my best friend, Graham.

Graham was one of the greatest friends anyone could ever ask for—sweet, kind, caring, funny. And he was a vegetarian. Unfortunately, we didn't see each other much this summer. He traveled to Pennsylvania for two months to visit his grandma, then spent two weeks in New York with his older sister, Emma, who was studying to be a physical therapist. (Which, personally, I think is just a free pass to touch people—but hey, it pays well!)

By the time he finally returned to San Francisco, I was leaving for a two-week family trip to Mexico—extended family included. It sucked, honestly. My cousins, mostly little kids or ten-year-olds, spent 90% of the time screaming and crying. By the time I got back, it was just a day before school, and I was too exhausted to hang out.

Today was the first day of school, and I wanted to impress everyone, to show off my "glow-up," even if I hadn't really had one. I'd grown two inches and gotten a tan. But, deep down, I knew who I was doing this for: Graham.

I didn't want to admit it back then, but I liked him. I admired his brown hair, his warm brown eyes, and how passionate he was about everything he did. Especially when he played piano and guitar. I still remember how he blew everyone away at our elementary school concert with "Pop Goes the Weasel." That was why I picked up piano and guitar myself—because of him.

That day, I wore a light pink dress, white Nikes, and a white headband. I tied my hair in a tight high ponytail, even though my braids were begging to be undone. Graham had said he liked my ponytail on the last day of school, so I figured it was good luck.

"Hey!" I called out, a huge smile spreading across my face as I spotted him for the first time in two months. Graham had grown about four inches over the summer, which got me thinking about puberty. Now, he was about 5'11", making him seven inches taller than me. He looked great, wearing the beige Green Day shirt I'd given him with cargo pants.

"Looks like someone's Christmas wish came early," I teased.

Graham chuckled. "Don't tell Santa; he made me swear not to reveal his magic powers."

"I won't tell a soul," I promised. "But how was your trip?"

"I texted you a paragraph," he said, giving me a playful look.

"Saying 'it was good' isn't a paragraph."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "Well, it was great. I went to a parade that was so packed I thought I might get trampled! But I made a few friends."

"Like who?" I asked, curiosity bubbling up.

"Well, Maya, John, Lukas, Luke B, and Ronald."

"Oh, that's cool." I tried to keep my voice neutral but felt a pang of curiosity about this Maya girl. "How old is Maya?"

"Fifteen," he replied.

I gave him a strange look, waiting for more. "So, is she cool?"

He nodded, shrugging casually. "Pretty cool."

I wanted to ask more, but before I could, Joyce, Malerie, and Marissa came running toward me, waving their arms like they were at a Taylor Swift concert.

"Amy!" they yelled, tackling me in a hug. Little did they know, I hated hugs. They made me uncomfortable, and I never knew whether to hug around the neck or the waist.

"Hey," I said, awkwardly pulling out of the embrace. I noticed Graham had wandered over to his friend Menelik. "What's up?" I asked, trying to ignore the urge to beg Graham to stay and tell me more about Maya.

"Not much," Marissa said, smiling. I immediately noticed her braces were gone.

"You got your braces off?" I asked, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yeah, I did! I wanted it to be a surprise," she replied. "I wanted a summer glow-up without you blabbermouths spreading the news."

"Is that from Dior?" I asked, admiring her dress.

She nodded. "Yeah. My parents are getting divorced, so my mom's spending as much of my dad's money as she can. She even let me get a belly button piercing."

Before I could ask how she felt about the divorce, Joyce jumped in, her voice hushed with excitement. "Oh my gosh, did you hear? Kalie broke up with Mark B over the summer. I heard she was pregnant because I saw her at the clinic next to the ice cream shop where I work."

Here's the thing about Joyce: she could somehow get gossip from everyone. She had this "trustworthy" reputation but was always talking behind people's backs and making jokes about them. I have to admit, her jokes could be funny, but they could also be really, really cruel.