Memory Lane

Part 5: Pretend

The boys told their friends that they were the ones who asked us out. Predictably, that was more Evan's idea than Harry's, but by the time Harry came to pick us up in his car, that was the story our whole class believed.

The truth? You have the whole day planned out after Harry said yes and Evan mumbled that he would text me. 

We caught them by surprise when we asked them out, you with your coy glossy smile at lunch and me with the note I "accidentally" dropped on his desk in English class. Evan's immediate reaction after he read the note was pure shock. His facial expression, eyes wide and muscles frozen, was immortalized in my memory. It felt good to have the upper hand over someone like him for once. Years of torment were repaid with a hastily written confession.

Harry's reaction to your confession was less extreme. You did startle him, but he quickly assumed his role as your potential boyfriend after agreeing to go out with you.

He trailed after you like a lost puppy every day afterward, giving us rides to and from school. He waited for you after class and insisted on walking you everywhere, even if it made him late. Anytime you gave any indication you were tired or hungry, he managed to sneak outside food in the school using connections with his upperclassmen friends. If there was an excuse to be around you, he had it.

It was endearing at first, but soon I found his presence to be irritating. He was too eager to please and that made every interaction with him coated with a sticky layer of artifice. I hated how superficial he was and hated myself more for choosing him for you.

As much as I despised Evan, at least he never stooped to this level. He was still rough around the edges, not any sweeter to me than before. But he was shyer, choosing his words more carefully whenever he spoke to me. And his pranks and teasing became half-hearted, losing their malice.

I didn't like to admit it, but you were right. He had feelings for me. Don't get me wrong, he still expressed them horribly and I didn't forgive him for the years of bullying. But it was weird to see that what you suspected was true.

"There was chemistry between you guys," you added.

That was where you were wrong. What I had for him before was hatred. I still thought he was a monster, but some of the resentment I felt faded away to pity. How stupid did someone have to be to hurt the people they liked? I assumed it was common sense that people didn't try to drown their crushes.

It was a shame that boys like Evan were born with only half a brain. Had I been a more generous person, I would have started a campaign for people to donate their brain cells to him. There were entirely too many males around us. Once it was known that Harry and Evan were interested in us, more of the guys started looking at us. Suddenly, we were "girlfriend material" and there was more pressure on that date we had with the boys on Saturday.

I withered in the spotlight, unused to the attention, but you practically sparkled picking the movie we would see and the restaurant we would eat at after. Your ranking was secure and you were more popular than ever.

So why did everything feel wrong?

I knew I couldn't return Evan's feelings. Love didn't grow from cruelty. His face and his body had no appeal to me even if he had a handsome bad boy image. I preferred to look at other girls, which I was doing more often. It made being surrounded by the boys easier to deal with.

Cute girls. Pretty girls. Cool girls. I stared at all of them, half-hoping that any of them would go on that date with me on Saturday instead of Evan. I would have no problem kissing them or holding their hands.

But it wasn't just that. I found myself doubting whether or not you were attracted to Harry. Maybe I was seeing things, but I noticed the way your smile wouldn't reach your eyes like it used to or the way your laugh seemed forced.

"Do you like Harry?"

I asked this while we were at the mall picking out date outfits. I slid the hangers along the racks of clothing, unable to find a dress that I liked.

"He's cute and sweet," you said. "Not exactly my type, but he's definitely got potential. He just needs a haircut and a better fashion sense."

I privately thought he needed a new personality as well, but there would be no Harry left if we transformed every part of him.

"The important thing is that we'll be each other's first boyfriend and girlfriend. He could be the love of my life."

My heart sank. Him? The wedding march played in my head and I saw you at the altar kissing Harry. Although it was imagined, I found it to be an awful sight.

"What if it doesn't work out?"

You frowned. "Don't jinx it. I've got everything planned. And Evan likes you, don't worry."

Evan's feelings were never a concern. It was you that I was worried about.

"Here." You handed me a black dress. "Try this on."

I looked at the scrap of fabric skeptically. It sagged on the hanger pitifully.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me." You practically shoved me into the dressing room.

As I undressed, the feeling of uncertainty nagged me. Had I done the right thing by agreeing to this date? Was your dignity worth my discomfort?

I slipped into the dress and stared at myself in the mirror. Surprisingly, it looked better on my body than it did on the rack. If I squinted, I almost looked pretty. I stepped out of the changing room, lightly twirling. You nodded in approval.

"Perfect," you said. "I knew I chose the right dress."

Too bad you didn't pick the right date. I was looking good for the wrong person.

I didn't put on dresses often. Years of my mother trying to shove me into colorful chiffon garments ruined any desire I might have to wear them. But you've managed to pick something that I liked, the fabric covering my chest and the hem falling well below my knees.

Saturday should have been for the two of us. What did Evan or Harry know about having fun? We knew each other better than any of them could know us.

But you wanted to try something new. Maybe there was still a way out of this, for me at least. A million excuses ran through my head.

I could be sick that day. Maybe there was an assignment I had to do or some mysterious prior obligation. I wasn't immune to unforeseen disasters.

It took me less than a minute to realize that I was never going to do that. I wasn't abandoning you to spend a day with two boys in our class by yourself. There was no excuse for being a terrible friend to you regardless of what I felt.

I paid for the dress and we spent the rest of the day wandering the mall. We slipped into a Sephora and tried on makeup. While you swatched shades of sparkly blue eye shadow, I smeared on red lipstick that was too bright for my skin. You wanted to get something for the date, but I didn't want to spend more money than I had to.

"I'll buy it for you," you said, grabbing a tube of lipstick that I had been eyeing. "It's only twenty dollars."

"That's too much," I protested. It truly was considering the circumstances.

"You deserve to look and feel beautiful. It'll be nothing for me."

Realistically, a single makeup product wasn't going to erase a lifetime of insecurity. But there was something about the way you said it that made me pause. You meant your words and that was what finally convinced me to let you buy the thing.

Sometimes, Elle, you were quite naive. As we browsed accessories at Hot Topic, it struck me that you actually thought having a boyfriend would magically improve your life. You prattled on about how you would make each other better people and listed the possible names of your future children.

The jealousy coiled at the pit of my stomach was a given. But most of all, I was scared. Would a single boy be the reason I lose you?

That day seemed like an eternity ago, all of our concerns obvious and trite. It was surreal that a little over a year before you went missing, we were worried about boys and getting good grades in school.

But as my mind retraces the steps of that fateful year, I can't help but hope that a clue will surface. Somebody in our year knows why you disappeared. I feel it in my bones.