Everything I Know About You Read online

  That image—Mrs. Seeley with shaved-off punk hair, in a pretend girl band—was so ridiculous it gave me the giggles. Ava, too.

  Mrs. Seeley put her arms around us both. “Roomies are so important,” she said. “A good roommate is even more important than a friend.”

  My eyes met Ava’s for just a second before she turned away.

  Then Mrs. Seeley told me about her “hair person” back in Eastview. “Patrick is a genius,” she said. “I’m sure he can do something to fix that color.”

  “What about the way my hair feels?” I held up a handful of straw.

  “He’ll make it better,” Mrs. Seeley replied firmly. “And remember, hair is just hair; it always grows back! Nothing you do to it is ever permanent, not even a permanent.” She smiled at her lame joke. “But next time, Tally, dear, swear you won’t use inferior products you know nothing about.”

  “And follow the directions,” Ava added, rolling her eyes. “And use conditioner.”

  I promised, even though I couldn’t imagine doing anything with hair for the rest of my life.

  After a while, we figured that the Eastviewers had finished with the Supreme Court and were onto the next activity. And we could have joined them if we wanted. But Ava said she wasn’t eager to hang out with Nadia, and did we really have to do a bunch of museums on such a pretty day?

  Suddenly I remembered how Mrs. Seeley had said she wanted to see the “perfect roses.”

  “I guess we could do the Botanic Garden?” I told her. “I feel really bad you won’t get to go.”

  “Oh, Tally, don’t be silly,” Mrs. Seeley scoffed. “Roses are just roses! I can see them anywhere, anytime. I’d rather spend today seeing things we can’t see anywhere else.”

  That was how we ended up at the National Zoo. It was a very fun afternoon, actually. We saw the pandas and the great cats and the Asian elephants—but I have to say, I liked the small-mammals exhibit the best. The meerkats were hilarious, the way they sat up on their hind legs and made rude eye contact, and I couldn’t stop giggling at one species with the name Screaming Hairy Armadillo. The next time Trey bothered me, I vowed, that’s what I’d call him: You Screaming Hairy Armadillo. That was, if I could say it without giggling.

  As for Ava, the whole time, she was smiley and friendly. Of course, her mom was there, so she couldn’t have been outright nasty—but she also didn’t have to laugh at my jokes, or keep asking where I wanted to go next, or if I was hungry for lunch. To be honest, I kept thinking she was being a little too nice, and it made me uncomfortable. Because why should she be nice? She’d made it clear that she didn’t like me.

  Plus, if for some crazy reason she had changed her mind about me, the first thing she’d have done was delete the photo. The second thing would have been to prove it, showing me how it was gone from her phone, never to be seen by anyone, ever. But she didn’t do either—so the entire afternoon as we strolled the zoo, I knew she could still turn on me again without warning. All I had to do was mention her eating issues to anyone—out of worry about her, not spite—and the photo of me squeezed into Ava’s tiny pink top, with Slime Thing hair, would go viral.

  So, despite the break from our classmates, and the sunshine, and the Screaming Hairy Armadillos, and everyone’s niceness, I couldn’t relax. Mrs. Seeley bought us bags of popcorn, but I could barely eat any. It also didn’t help when Ava ordered herself a chicken salad sandwich for lunch—and dumped 95 percent of it in the trash as soon as her mom stepped into the ladies’ room.

  She gave me a sideways look when she did it, like she was daring me to say something. But I didn’t; I couldn’t. She was keeping the photo a secret from the entire class, I told myself, so I had to keep her secret too.

  • • •

  When we got back to the Hotel Independence, it was late afternoon. As we stepped into the elevator, I thanked Mrs. Seeley and Ava for the ninety-ninth time that day.

  “My pleasure, dear,” Mrs. Seeley said. “Tell your lovely mom to call Patrick ASAP. In fact, if she calls him now, you can see him tomorrow evening, as soon as we get off the bus.”

  “Mom, maybe Tally hasn’t told her mom about the hair thing yet,” Ava said.

  “You haven’t?” Mrs. Seeley asked me, raising her perfect eyebrows, as if she couldn’t imagine a daughter not sharing everything.

  “I wanted to do it in person,” I explained.

  “Well, give her some warning first, Tally, dear. Moms shock easily.”

  Did mine? I couldn’t say; I’d never shocked her before.

  When the elevator arrived on Lexington, Mrs. Seeley told us she’d be taking a nap and would see us later—but she didn’t specify when, and Ava didn’t ask. By then I was exhausted and sweaty. All I wanted to do was to take off my wool cap and get into the shower.

  Not Ava. “I think I’ll head over to the gym,” she announced, stretching her arms.

  I glanced at Mrs. Seeley, to see if she was surprised Ava needed more exercise after all the walking we’d done. But she didn’t react. “Call your dad,” she told Ava. “But don’t tell him I told you to.”

  “I was planning to call him on my own,” Ava replied. “You don’t need to remind me, Mom.”

  Suddenly the hallway felt chilly, like the three of us were standing under a vent of air-conditioning. Mrs. Seeley was frowning at Ava. “Frankly, I just don’t want him calling me complaining that you never call him.”

  “I always call him, Mom. Just that one time I didn’t!”

  “Well, he made it sound like more than once. Anyway, I don’t have the stomach for this, Ava! Just return his calls and leave me out of it, please.”

  We watched Mrs. Seeley slip her key card into her door.

  As soon as Ava and I entered our room, the first thing Ava did was head for the bathroom sink, where she filled a glass and drank. When the glass was empty, she filled another and drank it all. Then she asked me if I planned to take a shower.

  “Ugh, definitely,” I groaned, flinging my cap across the room and flopping on the bed.

  “What I mean is, could you please take it now? I need to make a phone call. In private.”

  “Oh. Sure.” The last thing I felt like doing was arguing, so I got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom.

  Right away I turned on the water. But I didn’t get into the shower. I didn’t say to myself, Hey, cool, a golden opportunity for eavesdropping. Although I had to admit I was curious. What was going on between Ava and her dad? What was going on between Ava’s parents? Were they splitting up? Had they already split?

  And how was Ava dealing? The more time I spent with her, the less I knew. It was like she had googols of stuff locked up inside her, in a silo that reached the moon.

  I pressed my ear to the door.

  “No, Daddy, I wasn’t ignoring you—

  “I love you, too. But I don’t want to hear that stuff about Mom—

  “No, I’m not taking sides—

  “No, I refuse—

  “That isn’t fair! You can’t just—

  “You are? When?

  “You always say that but you never—

  “Yeah, I will. Okay, I promise. Gotta go now.

  “To the gym! Yeah, there’s a decent one here.

  “I know. I’ll be careful. I told you I promised—

  “Love you, Daddy. I will. Bye.”

  I got into the shower fast.

  • • •

  When I came out of the bathroom, Ava was on the floor, not moving.

  Cartwheel

  “AVA! OMIGOD! ARE YOU OKAY?”

  Her eyes opened, and for a second she looked at me as if she thought she might be dreaming. Then, slowly, she sat up and groaned.

  “Oh crap, I think I fainted,” Ava said.

  “You did?”

  “Don’t shout. God, Tally. Haven’t you ever seen anyone faint before?”

  “No! Why would I?”

  “Because people faint all the time. It’s not a big deal.�
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  “Oh yes, it is! Are you serious? It totally is! We should call a doctor!”

  “No, Tally, we should not.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell your mom, then. She can decide if—”

  “Tally, no.” Ava grabbed my arm. For someone who’d just fainted, she had a strong grip. “I was just light-headed from walking in the sun all afternoon. And being super dehydrated. Could you please just get me a glass of water?”

  I took the glass she’d already emptied and refilled it in the bathroom sink. When I handed it to her, she drank it in almost one gulp.

  “Thanks,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Tally, you really need to leave my mom out of this.”

  “Why?”

  She took a few seconds to speak. “I don’t really want to talk about it, okay?”

  “Ava, you have to tell me. If you don’t, I’m just getting your mom.”

  “No.”

  “Then tell me!”

  “All right. But this is just between us.” She sighed; I could tell she hadn’t talked about this before, and she said the words slowly. “So my parents are going through something bad right now. They’re not getting along at all—they’re separated, and I’m scared they’re getting divorced. Well, I’m pretty sure they are. And I’m basically caught in the middle, you know?”

  I nodded, even though I didn’t know. My parents loved each other, and they got along great. We all did, really.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone,” she added. “I haven’t told my friends yet. Not even Nadia.”

  “How come?”

  “Because Mom said not to. She doesn’t want gossip.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t, anyway,” I said. “I can keep a secret! Besides, I never talk to Nadia.”

  “Well, don’t tell Sonnet, then.”

  Not a problem, I thought. We’re barely talking anymore, anyway.

  “Tally? Can I tell you something?” Ava asked, almost shyly. “Mom’s under a lot of stress right now, and I don’t want to worry her over nothing. She seems incredibly strong, I know, but this whole thing with my dad . . .” She blew out some air.

  Should I just shut up? Yes, but I couldn’t. “Ava, your mom is already freaked about you,” I said. “About the whole eating thing.”

  Ava blinked. “How do you know that?”

  “Because it’s obvious! She’s always noticing your food. And she’s been asking me about it.”

  “She has? And what did you tell her?”

  “Whatever you’d want me to say. Nothing, basically.”

  “Well, thank you.” She bit her lip. “Honestly, Tally, I just don’t have an appetite lately. And I can’t keep anything down if I do eat. Mom knows it’s all because of the divorce thing, so if you tell her I’m not eating, it’ll just make her feel guilty. And then I’ll feel worse, and I’ll eat even less. Anyhow, she hasn’t been sleeping lately, and right now she’s napping, which is great, so please don’t disturb her, okay, Tally? You owe her; she was so nice to you today, right?”

  “Yeah, she was,” I admitted.

  “You know, she really wanted to see those roses. And she didn’t because of you.”

  I winced. “I know!”

  “So you should take back what you said about her. How she’s so bossy and intense—”

  “I never said ‘bossy,’ ” I protested. “And I’m very sorry I said all that other stuff, okay? But I’m still worried.”

  “About what? I swear I’m absolutely fine now. Want to see me do a cartwheel?”

  “Now? Ava, are you nuts?”

  “Watch.” She jumped up, flung open the door, and did two cartwheels, one after the other, down the hotel hallway. Then she turned around and grinned at me. “So? Are you convinced?”

  “I guess,” I said slowly. “I mean, okay, that was amazing. But, Ava, I really, really think—”

  “Then you’re wrong,” she called over her shoulder, as she ran down the hall toward the staircase.

  The Key

  THE WAY MY FRIENDS HAD been telling me not to help them anymore, to stop acting like a babysitter or a rescue dolphin, hurt a lot. I mean, a lot. So now a part of me was yelling at myself: Just mind your own business, Tally.

  But I knew that Ava was in trouble—real trouble—and that I couldn’t just do nothing. Except what could I do, exactly? Wake Mrs. Seeley? Call an ambulance? Wait for Ms. Jordan to come back to the hotel, and then tell her everything? Even if I did, I wasn’t sure what I could say: Ava fainted before, but she’s fine now. Ava just did two cartwheels and ran off to the gym, and I’m worried because she should be tired.

  Plus, just now she’d opened up to me, telling me things even her friends didn’t know—so how could I turn around and blab about the fainting? What I didn’t think was: Oh, and if I do tell someone, she’ll send around that hideous photo. At least, I didn’t think that I was thinking it. Probably it was in my mind, but way at the back, just kind of bubbling away, like the stew Mom makes in the winter and leaves on the stove all day—but I wasn’t aware of it. I was thinking about Ava, about what (if anything) I could do to make sure she was okay.

  And the only thing I could think was: Go check on her in the gym. If Ava seemed wobbly or weak or pale, I’d definitely tell Mrs. Seeley she’d fainted.

  But where was the gym? I had no idea. I could call the front desk from back in the room and ask—but as I stood there in the hallway and reached into my pocket for the key card, I instantly became aware of three things:

  1) It wasn’t in the pocket

  2) Of the hotel robe I was still wearing.

  3) Also, there was nothing on my head besides Swamp Monster–colored hair. . . .

  BLEEP. I WAS LOCKED OUT OF THE ROOM. And now I’d have to go downstairs in a terry-cloth bathrobe and an exposed slime head to beg for a substitute key. From people wearing bonnets and dancing jigs. Bleepity bleepity bleep!

  But there was no choice. I raced down the stairs to the lobby.

  The front desk was empty. Where was everybody? At a quilting bee? Writing amendments to the Constitution?

  “Helloooo,” I called out. “Anyone hoooome?”

  Hipster Bonnet sauntered over to the front desk, not curtseying or anything. “Good afternoon, may I help you?”

  I finally got a look at her name tag: CARLY. Didn’t match her costume, but whatever. “Yes! I’m locked out of my room, and—”

  “Girl, what’s the deal with your hair?”

  I winced. “It got kapowed.”

  “It sure did. Holy crap. You should cover that up.”

  “I agree. But my hat’s in the room. Which I’m locked out of. Which is why I’m here.”

  “Got it. You want to borrow something? We Colonials are big on headgear.” She started searching through some shelves behind the desk.

  “I really just want another key to my room. Lexington oh-six. Please,” I added loudly, trying to do Ava’s imitation of her mother.

  “No problem, just give me one sec.” She typed something, drummed her fingers, then handed me a fresh key card. “Although, hold on, I know we have some extra—”

  Carly disappeared behind the desk. When she popped up again, she was holding a bonnet, a three-cornered hat, and a powdered wig. “Staff leave these around, and sometimes guests want some as souvenirs, so we’re always well stocked. In my personal opinion, you want to go with the bonnet, but—”

  Just then there was a commotion behind us. I could hear shouts and loud laughing and girls’ voices singing “My Shot” from Hamilton, and a male grown-up voice yelling, “Quiet, folks!” and somebody protesting about someone else pushing.

  My classmates returning from their afternoon activities.

  I am not throwing away my shot!

  I froze.

  “Just take any one, okay?” Carly urged. “On the house.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  I grabbed the powdered wig, plopped it on my head, and fled up the stairs.

 
Lightning

  AS SOON AS I STEPPED into my room, I flicked on the lights and checked the bathroom: no sign of Ava. Probably she was still in the hotel gym, doing cartwheels—but maybe she was lying on the floor, with no one around to give her a glass of water. I needed to get dressed and check on her in the gym. Fast.

  But when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, with the white bathrobe and the Founding Father wig, I just felt helpless and kind of stupid. Because this wasn’t just another costume, something I’d put on to make some in-your-face anti-fashion statement. Right at that moment I felt almost naked.

  And I thought: Okay, Tally, what exactly are you doing? Does Ava really need you to rescue her? She sure acted like she didn’t. She was nice all afternoon—and her mom, too—but she’s still Ava Seeley. She couldn’t have changed that much over the last three days, right?

  Plus of course she had that awful photo of me.

  I took off the wig. It was all damp inside, even from just a few minutes of wearing. Funny to think our country was founded by people with sweaty heads.

  A knock on the door.

  “Tally, can I come in?” Ms. Jordan called.

  My stomach jumped. I tossed the wig in the closet and opened the door.

  Ms. Jordan smiled a little as she walked inside the room and sat on the edge of Ava’s bed. Her ponytail was droopy, and I could see her nose had gotten sunburned.

  She glanced at my head with an almost-neutral expression. Not fiftieth percentile, more like sixty-fifth. “Some day you’ve had, Tally,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Some day.”

  “In case you’re wondering, Mrs. Seeley already filled me in on the hair situation. It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen, if that’s any consolation. Anyway, I hope you thanked her for the day. Ava, too.”