Watch Me Disappear

walk next door.
    I haven’t talked to Maura at all since her party. I have thought a lot about what it might be like to be Maura’s friend, to really make an effort to become part of her circle. After Maura’s party and my sleepover with Missy, I decided I was happy enough to know Maura isn’t my enemy any more. It is impossible to relax around Maura and her friends. With them, I always have to wonder if I look all right and if I said the right thing. They all talk behind each other’s backs, and they scrutinize one another constantly. As much as part of me wants to associate with the popular crowd, my rational self knows better than to get involved in that kind of self-esteem destroying situation. I have made up my mind to stop being jealous of Missy and instead to just enjoy her friendship, which is so relaxed and easy that I never worry how I look or what I say.
    But it is Missy’s idea that I approach Maura. Missy doesn’t need me to go to John’s party. She can go with Wes and have a great time. But she wants us to go together, and I don’t want to miss out when I’m finally finding out what it’s like to be included.
    Mrs. Morgan, as always delighted to see me, leads me through the house to the backyard where Maura sits in the sun, painting her toenails.
    “Oh yeah, you heard about that?” Maura says, when I ask if she’s going to John’s party.
    “It sounds fun.” I don’t even know John’s last name, but I try to sound casual and in-the-know.
    Maura fills me in on the whole story. John lives out in the country somewhere, and behind his house, you can walk through the woods a little ways up a hill to a place with great views. They make a fire pit and probably some kids will bring guitars and, of course, there will be plenty of booze.
    “And other stuff, if you’re into that,” Maura says. “A lot of kids eat mushrooms up there. I haven’t done it, but they say it’s fun.”
    “That’s cool,” I say, trying to convince myself to ask the question I had really come to ask.
    “So you gonna go?” Maura says.
    “My parents don’t really let me go to things like that,” I say.
    “No one’s do,” she answers. “You have to lie.”
    “Yeah, I know, I just mean my parents are sort of insanely strict, so I can’t even get in someone’s car without their permission.”
    “That sucks,” Maura says, reclining back in her chair and wiggling her toes with their fresh pink nail polish. I get the sense that she’s getting bored of our conversation.
    “So anyway, I was wondering if maybe I could go with you. I mean, I think my parents will let me if I’m with you,” I say.
    “Yeah, I guess,” Maura says. “But I’m not coming home after so you have to get a ride home.”
    I figure a ride home will be no problem. Wes will be driving Missy home, so I’ll just get him to drop me off, too. I think for a minute and then I ask Maura what I should tell my parents. She looks at me like she’s amused by my needy-baby routine.
    “Tell them whatever you want,” Maura says.
    “No, I mean, my mom will probably talk to yours, so what should I say?”
    Maura instructs me to say we are seeing a movie. When I insist we agree on what movie, I think she almost reconsiders letting me tag along with her, but she continues to help me generate my lie. I’ll tell them we’re going to see the new James Bondand that afterwards we’re going to the ’50s Diner for ice cream.
    “Hey, is your friend Missy coming?” Maura asks.
    “Yeah, I think she is,” I say, reaching for the handle of the sliding door.
    “She’s really pretty, don’t you think?”
    “Yeah, she’s cute,” I say, waiting to see if Maura has more to add.
    “I was surprised she came to my party,” Maura says. “I mean, I had never met her.”
    “Yeah, about that,” I say. “Your mom said—”
    “No, it’s cool,” Maura says. “I’m sure I’ll get to chat with her tomorrow. I’m sure she’s nice.”
    “Okay,” I say, opening the door.
    “7:30,” Maura says.
    When I get home, just as I predicted, my mother is thrilled that I have plans with Maura. Also as predicted, she wants details.
    “What time is Maura’s curfew?” she asks, after hearing the movie and ice cream story.
    I tell her I doubt Maura has one, but that anyway, she’s staying over one of the other girl’s houses.
    “Well, how are you getting home?”
    “Someone else will give me a ride,” I say.
    Of course my mother doesn’t like that