All I Need Read online

  “See you guys out front.” As Kara leaves, she says bye to Lani, the president of One World.

  “Is there anyone Kara doesn’t know?” Jocelyn asks.

  “Not really. The girl’s a superstar.”

  “So like . . . did she say anything to you about Dillon?”

  “Only what we already know.”

  “I wonder why she was fronting for so long that everything was fine.” Jocelyn reaches for the purple paint. “We’re her best friends. Why would she pretend with us?”

  “It’s embarrassing to admit your relationship isn’t what you want it to be.” I should know. Every boy I’ve been with has been a colossal disappointment. Except Seth.

  “But if you can’t tell your best friends, who can you tell?”

  “She didn’t want to tell anyone. I guess she was hoping things would get better.”

  We don’t talk for a while. We just paint. I always feel kind of awkward when Jocelyn and I talk about Kara. Or when Kara and I talk about Jocelyn. Not that it stops me.

  “I wonder if sex has to be like that,” Jocelyn says.

  “Like what?”

  “Like once you do it, you can’t ever go back to just kissing.”

  Kara and Dillon got in a huge fight the other night. They were making out in her room. That’s all Kara wanted to do. She didn’t feel like having sex. She told me that ever since they starting having sex last year, Dillon expects every time they make out to end in sex. When Kara told Dillon that she didn’t feel like it, he took offense. He accused her of not wanting him anymore. But of course that wasn’t true. She just didn’t want him right then.

  Dillon stormed out. They’re still not talking.

  “It’s a problem without a solution,” I say.

  “Exactly. She doesn’t want to break up, but they can’t go back to how they were before.”

  “She said she wants the magic back. She wants things to feel like they did when they started going out.”

  “How is sex only exciting for the first year? That doesn’t seem right.”

  “I don’t think it’s like that for everyone. Maybe . . .”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they’re not the best match.”

  “But they always look happy. Oh, crap.” Jocelyn puts her brush down. She holds out her metallic silver scarf and wipes off some purple paint that dripped on it. “Anyway. This is the first big fight they’ve had.”

  “That we know of. You can never know everything that goes on in someone else’s relationship. Not even the people in the relationship know everything.”

  “Does Ben know about Seth?”

  “No.” Ben and I have been going out for two months. He calls me his girlfriend and everything. He’s a great guy. But I don’t think of him as my boyfriend. I’ve never even called him that.

  Lani puts her banner on the table to dry. She drew different examples of how to reduce our environmental footprint. There are sections for things like planting trees, carpooling, and reusing. Lani’s so passionate about protecting our planet. She’s definitely going into environmental science. It must be awesome to know what you want to do. I know that I want to make the world a better place. I just don’t know exactly how yet.

  Jocelyn and I squeeze into our puffy coats and hats and gloves and scarves. While we’re waiting outside for Kara, it starts snowing. Jocelyn and I have a lot of things in common. Love of snow is not one of them. What can I say? I’m a devoted summer girl.

  “Woo!” Jocelyn runs around in circles. She loves everything about snow. Playing in it, making snowmen with it, sledding on it. Snow reverts Jocelyn right back to kindergarten. But this relentless frosty February makes me want summer to get here even faster.

  I stand under the snow looking up at the big, white sky. I wish I knew where Seth was right now. He could be anywhere. He’s probably at some college far away. But what if he’s not that far? Is it snowing where he is? It kills me to think that he could be somewhere close to New Jersey—or maybe even in New Jersey—but there’s no way for me to find out.

  “Sorry, sorry!” Kara comes over to us. “When did it start snowing?”

  “A few minutes ago,” I say.

  “And Jocelyn hasn’t made a snowman yet?”

  “It’s not going to stick,” Jocelyn intuits.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “Look how slushy it is on the ground.”

  “All I can think about is hot chocolate,” Kara says. “Let’s go.”

  This isn’t just any hot chocolate. We’re talking decadent hot chocolate made with three different kinds of chocolate. It’s legendary. The best part is that it comes with a fluffy rectangle of homemade marshmallow deliciousness melted right on top.

  When we get to The Fountain, we’re stoked that our couch is free. The Fountain is this old-school ice-cream parlor with stools along the counter and cute tables scattered all over. But we aren’t interested in sitting anywhere except the purple velvet couch.

  Jocelyn runs over to our couch. She throws her bag down to claim it. Then she spins around and gestures with flair. “VIP seating, ladies?”

  There’s nothing like being all toasty warm inside with your best friends when it’s freezing out. We get our hot chocolates and scrunch up on the couch with Kara in the middle.

  “Where’s your marshmallow?” Kara asks Jocelyn.

  “New diet,” Jocelyn explains. “No white foods.”

  It breaks my heart whenever Jocelyn goes on a new diet. She’s beautiful just the way she is. But she never listens when I tell her that. It’s like there’s something driving her to keep searching for the perfect diet that will make her flawless.

  “So how’d it go at drama?” I ask Kara.

  “Okay. I’m not sure yet. Aiden Harris was distracting me.”

  “With his gorgeousness?”

  “What else?”

  “His eyes,” Jocelyn swoons.

  “His everything,” I add.

  “But I think I can cobble together a decent clip,” Kara says.

  “Um, I’m pretty sure Miss Hundred Thousand will come up with something brilliant,” I say.

  “Whatever. The kittens girl has over a million subscribers.”

  “The kittens girl is intellectually challenged,” I remind her. “Are you really comparing A Day in the Life to those other channels? Even the good ones aren’t as successful. That Art Thoughtz guy has way less subscribers than you and he’s freaking hilarious.”

  “Beyond hilarious,” Jocelyn says. “Did you see that one where he’s labeling everyday objects as art and he shows this dude sleeping on the couch and he’s like, ‘Your unemployed brother in his forties who doesn’t do anything and lives with your mom? Art!’”

  “And it’s performance art, so—”

  “Double art!” we yell.

  An older couple sharing a sundae darts us annoyed looks. It’s hard to calm down when we get like this. I love it when the three of us are on a friends high. Our voices go up about ten notches in volume. We get all giddy and squealy and everything cracks us up. I can tell the friends high is making Kara feel better. Her bad mood is rapidly disintegrating.

  “I like those paranoid vegetables,” I continue.

  “I like the guy who plays the vegetables,” Jocelyn says.

  “A Day in the Life needs something with vegetables,” Kara decides.

  “Singing vegetables,” I suggest.

  “Vegetables on fire!” Jocelyn exclaims.

  Sundae couple is alarmed.

  “No, then she’d be like that dude who blows stuff up all day,” I say.

  “How many subscribers does he have?” Kara wants to know.

  “You are not going to blow stuff up to get subscribers. Look how many you already have just by being you. Keep it classy.”

  “Like the guy who blows his nose and then shows everyone?” Jocelyn asks.

  “Eeeeewww!” Kara and I shriek.

  Sundae couple is n
ot happy.

  “Keep it down, children, you’re scaring the grownups,” Kara warns.

  “That guy who rants about the end of the world is scary,” Jocelyn says.

  “Scary insane,” Kara clarifies. “Paranoid rants are so last year.”

  “You don’t need to be gimmicky,” I assure Kara. “Everyone loves you.”

  “They’ll love me even more for sharing the magnificence that is Aiden Harris. Assuming I concentrated long enough to turn my camera on. How could I let him distract me so easily?”

  “Aiden Harris distracts everybody,” Jocelyn says. “It’s the law.”

  “Dillon would kill me if he knew we were flirting.”

  “Not if Aiden was doing all the flirting,” I say.

  Kara gazes up at the ceiling, sipping her hot chocolate. The exaggerated innocent act isn’t fooling anyone.

  “How much flirting are we talking about?”

  “Enough for him to know I’m interested.”

  Jocelyn and I exchange a look behind Kara.

  “I didn’t know you were that mad at Dillon,” Jocelyn says.

  “Of course I’m mad! How would you feel if your boyfriend expected sex every time he came over?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Jocelyn mumbles.

  “We used to be happy. I wanted to do it all the time. But now it’s just like . . . everything is about sex. If I don’t feel like doing it, Dillon takes it personally. If I do feel like it, he’s worried that I’m not really into it. Why is he making it so complicated?”

  “Sex complicates things,” Jocelyn says.

  “This from someone who’s never even had a boyfriend,” Kara fires back. She’s gripping her mug so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack into a million pieces.

  Jocelyn blinks at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Kara says. “I’m in a vile mood. I should go.”

  “No!” I grab Kara’s arm. “Don’t go.”

  “It’s okay. I have a ton of work to do if I want to overhaul the site by next month.” Kara gets up and puts on her coat. “Later.”

  We watch Kara leave. Unexpectedly coming down from a friends high is a hard crash.

  “You guys didn’t even notice those boys, did you?” Jocelyn asks.

  “What boys?”

  “I knew it.”

  “What boys?”

  “Over there.” Jocelyn tilts her head in their direction.

  I look over. Two cute boys are sitting by the window. I might recognize them from school, but I’m not sure.

  “They’re cute and all, but . . .”

  “But you already have a boyfriend.”

  “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

  “And Kara already has a boyfriend,” Jocelyn sighs. She sips her hot chocolate without marshmallows. I wish she wasn’t depriving herself of their fluffy deliciousness.

  “What’s going on with you?” I ask.

  “Boys always notice you and Kara. They never notice me. Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy for you guys. Or I try to be. It’s like my self-esteem tank gets stuck on empty sometimes.”

  “Aw.” I slide over to Jocelyn and put my arm around her. “Boys notice you.”

  “Not like they notice you.”

  “How long have you been feeling like this?”

  “A long time.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I knew it would sound like I’m throwing a pity party. Aaaand it sounds like I’m throwing a pity party.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “We can’t even have cake at this party. No white foods.”

  I squeeze her shoulder in sympathy.

  “It just feels like I’ll be alone forever.”

  “What about Luke?”

  “What about Luke? He doesn’t even know I exist.”

  “He would if you started talking to him.”

  “You mean where I start talking to him and I ask him out and he dies of laughter right in front of me? Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  “You have to take a risk if you want things to change.”

  “You didn’t have to. Ben started talking to you. Ben asked you out. Same with Kara and Dillon.”

  “But it’s scary every time you get closer to someone,” I say. “No matter who started it.”

  “Yeah, but it’s less scary when you’re not the one taking a risk.”

  “What happened to following your heart? Isn’t that our thing?”

  Jocelyn gulps the rest of her hot chocolate without marshmallows. The hopeless look in her eyes makes me sad. We’ve all been there. Feeling like things will never get better. Like we’ll never find someone to love. But Jocelyn is amazing. She should totally take a chance on Luke. Following your heart means allowing the possibility of finding true love to be stronger than the fear of rejection.

  • • •

  The comforting smell of fresh pasta sauce greets me when I get home.

  “Come help me chop the salad,” Mom calls from the kitchen.

  I love chopping salad. Salad tastes so much better when you chop it. Chopping all the vegetables into tiny pieces puts me in a cathartic zone.

  “How was your day?” Mom asks.

  “Okay.” I take the romaine lettuce out of the strainer and pile it on a big wooden board. Then I slam the chopper down in the middle of the pile and start rocking it back and forth.

  “Are you sure about that?” Mom says, watching me frantically chopping.

  “Is anyone ever happy? Like, is happiness something you can actually achieve? Or is it just this elusive promise we keep chasing forever?”

  “What brought this on?”

  “I don’t know. Everything.”

  Mom puts some peeled carrots on the chopping board. “Of course it’s possible to be happy. But no one’s happy every minute of every day. There are too many changing variables.”

  I think about Ben. He’s such a good guy. Am I not happy with him because of something lacking between us? Or is it because of how happy I get whenever I think about being with Seth?

  “I’m going to the movies with Ben Saturday night,” I say.

  “Be home by one.”

  My parents have always been cool about letting me do whatever. They give me a lot more freedom than other kids get. I like that I’ve earned their trust. Dad says it’s because I’ve never given them any reason to doubt my judgment. They see me as a good girl who would never do anything shocking.

  Cleaning out my desk drawers after dinner, I find the sparkly confetti I saved from last summer at the roller rink with Seth. First the dream. Then what I was saying to Jocelyn about following your heart. Now this.

  I have to find him. There has to be a way.

  eight

  Seth

  something’s missing

  “GIVE IT,” Karen says.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Give me my pen back!”

  “Shhhh!” a girl at the next table hisses.

  “Sorry,” I say. The girl has a point. This is a library.

  Karen crawls over to me on the couch we’ve been hogging for the past two hours. “Give,” she whispers, “me . . . my . . . pen . . . back.”

  “I . . . don’t . . . think . . . so.”

  “You’re going down, Seth.”

  Various X-rated images featuring Karen flash through my mind.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve pictured her that way.

  When I realized she was flirting with me in economics, I wasn’t sure what to think. I noticed little things at first. Like how we always ran into each other in the dining hall at lunch. Or how she stopped by my room to say hi a few times when she doesn’t even live in my dorm. Or how she made me those cookies for no reason.

  Karen is warm and pretty and fun to hang out with. She understands where I’m coming from. I’ve heard that like minds find each other at college. She’s practically the only person I’ve met here who doesn’t have a trust fund. We’re both on financia
l aid. Karen even has work-study. I would have been eligible for work-study if my dad’s income wasn’t thirty-eight dollars over the cutoff point.

  When I’m with Karen, I can relax. She doesn’t make me feel uptight like the rest of these Penn girls do. She made me believe that I might be ready to let someone in again. So we started going out.

  But what we have lacks the magic of what I had with Skye. When you have a strong connection with someone instantly, when it feels like you’ve known them forever even though you’ve just met, the intensity is undeniable. That’s how it was with Skye. Undeniable. Karen obviously wants things to get serious with us. She’s been so sweet that I hate letting her down. If I couldn’t go there with Skye, there’s no way letting Karen in would measure up.

  Karen crawls on my lap. She reaches for the pen I’m holding up. “Do you really want to get in trouble?” she purrs. “Wharton frowns on library escapades.”

  I give Karen her pen back. Then I get up to stretch. Passing by a window, I notice that it’s snowing. A girl at the table by the window reminds me of Skye. They don’t really look alike. It’s just something about the way she is, the way she’s tilting her head as she reads, how she’s sitting with one foot up on her chair.

  And I’m right back there again. Right back on the beach last summer. Kissing Skye.

  I have to find her. There has to be a way.

  Later when I’m alone in my room, I start working on a mix for Skye. I know it sounds crazy, but it seems like making this mix will increase the probability of finding her. This sudden need to find her hit me so hard it apparently knocked the logic part of my brain out.

  My dad calls while I’m working on the mix.

  “How’s school going?” he asks.

  “Same old. This douche in my management class had a nervous breakdown today. That was entertaining.”

  “Sounds like good times.”

  “Don’t underestimate the pressure of being a business major.”

  Silence from Dad’s end.

  “You still there?” I check.

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  “Are you?”

  “Honestly? I’ve been better.”