Noelle: The Mean Girl Read online

  She swallowed hard and kept composing. There were high notes that spilled into lower ones. There were moments where the song felt like conversations they’d had, fights, jokes, and everything in between. Noelle kept stopping to write and replay bits and pieces until, two hours later, the whole song was just about done. She wrote the title at the top of her sheet of scribbled music, folded the paper, and tucked it into the side pocket of her backpack.

  * * *

  A week later, Noelle got a new letter from Granna Esther. Her grandmother had written that the rains weren’t letting up, that her aunt liked the soup but was still sick, that Noelle should tell Tobyn how she felt. You’re only young once, Little One. Love is rare and only comes but so many times in a young life. But everything with Tobyn felt farther away and less important than ever. Noelle wrote back right away.

  October 26

  Bonjou Granna,

  I hope you’re well. Is your roof still leaking? I hope you were able to get it fixed since more hurricanes are coming. Or, can you stay with Tantie? Please call when you can. I tried texting and calling you a few times but I never heard back. Are my messages going through?

  Daddy got fired. I know he’s looking for another job but I don’t know how long it will take him to find one. Mama wants him to work at Lee’s, but you know how Daddy is. He refuses even though I know Năinai and Yéye would let him.

  One good thing though is that Pierre is helping out at the restaurant. He hasn’t gotten into a fight since he started last week, so it must be helping. Either that or those boys decided to lay off him on their own. Either way, I’m grateful.

  Things are still weird with me and Tobyn. I don’t think I can tell her how I really feel, at least not yet. But I wrote her a song this afternoon. It was an accident, kind of. Even though I compose sometimes, it’s usually way harder, takes way longer. But this one just came out of me. Maybe I’ll play it for her. Maybe that could be an easy way to let her know the truth without having to say the words.

  Noelle picked up the extra hours at the restaurant, studied when she could, and practiced “For You” in every other free moment she had. With only a little more than two weeks until the fall showcase, she was running out of time to perfect her piece. She’d completely ditched her original idea of performing “Golden Hour” at the showcase because the song she’d written for Tobyn wouldn’t leave her mind.

  Noelle felt tired, exhausted really, and barely sleeping was taking its toll. She felt more of her meanness slipping out in big and small ways with her parents, her friends, even with teachers at school.

  Noelle argued with her mom and dad when she overslept the second Monday morning after working all weekend at the restaurant. “You think I want to be late on purpose?” she said, and her mother shot back, “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, young lady,” at the same time as her dad said, “Watch your mouth.”

  She said, “Ugh,” threw on her glasses, and left the house in a rush.

  Later that day, while they were eating in the Yard, Tobyn asked about Travis. “I haven’t seen him hanging around in a while. Did you guys have a fight or something?”

  “We didn’t have a fight.”

  “Where’s he been then?”

  “Yeah,” Micah said. “I’d noticed, too. Why aren’t you guys hanging out?”

  “Oh my God, can you guys get off my back? We broke up. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Oh,” Tobyn said. “Our bad. But chill, Noelle. We didn’t know.”

  When Micah asked if Noelle was okay, and Lux asked why they’d ended things, Noelle packed up her stuff and left the lunch table without answering.

  On Tuesday, she flipped out on Micah when she said she was worried her piece wouldn’t be ready in time for the showcase. “If you spent half the time you spend complaining actually painting, maybe you’d be done already.”

  That afternoon, she got into it with Lux when she told Noelle she wasn’t sure if she could hide the spray paint anymore. “My dad’s been snooping around. And there’s no way I could hide it at my mom’s.”

  “Do I have to do everything?” Noelle spat. “If you can’t figure out how to hide it, just bring it to school tomorrow and I’ll figure it out myself.”

  But unlike her family and her other friends, Lux was not the one. “You don’t just get to say whatever you want, you know. You better be careful or you’ll end up with no friends at all.”

  Noelle knew Lux was right, and by Wednesday, she had calmed down enough to apologize for it all. She brought the girls their favorite treats from the restaurant, did a few extra chores for her parents, took Pierre for ice cream, and worked hard to get her temper in check so she wouldn’t do any of it again. But there was always a point during every day when the broken pieces of herself that she’d carefully put back together shattered all over again.

  It happened whenever Noelle heard her mother ask her dad, “Any luck?” and her father answered sharply, “Don’t you think I’d tell you if anything had changed, Anaïs? You can stop asking.”

  She turned down the girls when they asked her to hang out over the weekend and most of the next week because she needed the time to work and practice. Besides, she was convinced that if she didn’t get it together, her unpredictable anger would ruin whatever was left of her relationships.

  * * *

  On Thursday, the day before the showcase, Noelle headed to school early to use the music room before anyone else got there.

  She felt tired as usual—she’d convinced her grandmother to let her work the night before and stayed at the restaurant until closing. Instead of setting her music stand to face the door, she faced the windows at the back of the music room while she played. She didn’t want to have to make small talk with anyone who peeked or came inside.

  She heard the door to the music room open just when she began to play “For You” one last time before class started. She played like she was alone, even though she knew she wasn’t. As she played she forgot all her worries and only thought of Tobyn.

  The song was slow and soft at the beginning, the way her feelings for Tobyn had started. Noelle had been watching her friend talk one day when Tobyn let out a sudden, wild laugh. Noelle heard something inside her, like a tiny whisper. She’s pretty when she laughs like that. And then, She’s always pretty.

  The song quickened in the middle, the notes jumping up and down the way Noelle’s heart started to a few months ago whenever Tobyn was close by. Before, she wouldn’t hesitate to push Tobyn playfully or braid her friend’s hair, but now . . . the thought of touching Tobyn made Noelle feel like she might pass out.

  The song changed again right before the end. This part sounded angry and represented all the dark parts of their friendship. The fights they had. The way Noelle felt when Tobyn talked about Ava. All the mean things she’d ever done or said. Noelle always played this part of the song with a frown wrinkling the center of her forehead.

  As she got closer to the end, the melody slowed down again. Here was where Noelle played out how she was dying to kiss Tobyn, to tell her about how she made her feel. She remembered Tobyn handing her the doughnut and the way their hands had touched, and that streak of blue in Tobyn’s hair.

  She finished the song, and someone behind her started clapping. When Noelle turned around, she saw Tobyn standing there looking beautiful.

  “Hey Noelle,” Tobyn said. “Sorry to interrupt. It’s just . . . things have been weird with us for a while and it feels like I haven’t seen you. I know you’re really busy, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Noelle laid her cello in its case. Maybe what happened next was because the song was still fresh in her mind, in her heart, in her very fingers. Or it happened because Tobyn had said her name. Noelle was still holding her bow when she stepped closer to her friend, closer than she’d allowed herself in weeks. Quick as
the middle section of the love song she’d just played, Noelle leaned forward and kissed her.

  Tobyn pulled back.

  “Noelle,” she said. She looked confused, and nervous, and something else, Noelle thought. “You know I have a girlfriend.”

  Of course Noelle knew that. She didn’t know what had made her do something so stupid. She felt the hot flush of embarrassment pass over her face and spread down her neck, and she was grateful for her dark skin, her long hair—they allowed her to hide. She let her curls fall over her glasses so Tobyn wouldn’t see her eyes as they filled, instantly, with tears.

  “Ava doesn’t even love you anymore!” Noelle shouted. “You said it yourself.” Noelle felt that familiar meanness swelling inside her. “But maybe you’re just too clueless and desperate to believe it.”

  “Why would you say that?” Tobyn asked quietly. “I told you that in confidence.”

  Noelle didn’t know why. But she ran from the room, leaving her cello right there on the music room floor.

  * * *

  Noelle went straight home, closed her bedroom door and cried, curled in a tight ball in the center of her bed. But minutes after she’d arrived, her father walked into the apartment.

  Noelle tried to be quiet, but a soft sob slipped out and it echoed loud enough for her father to hear. Noelle heard his footsteps as he approached her room. He eased open her door.

  “Noelle? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?” he asked her. She rolled over to face him, and when he saw her tears, he came closer. “Noelle, honey. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s too much,” Noelle said.

  “What is?”

  “Everything.”

  Her father’s face turned stormy. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you work,” he said.

  “No, Daddy. It’s not that!” But it was and it wasn’t.

  “It’s the showcase. And I mean, yeah, I’m worried about family stuff and Mama, too. You know how stressed she is.”

  Her father nodded. “But honey. It’s my job to worry about this family, not yours.”

  “But what about Granna Esther? Whose job is it to worry about her?”

  “Ours. Your mother’s and mine.”

  Noelle shook her head. “I can’t just not worry about this stuff, though. I want to help. Why won’t you just work with Năinai and Yéye?”

  Her father swallowed. “We have a long history. Me and your grandparents. Stuff I don’t really like talking about. But I can’t work for them ever again. Just believe me when I say it’s more than pride,” he said. But Noelle wasn’t sure that was true.

  “Are you ready for the showcase?” he asked. “Since I’m funemployed,” he joked, “I’ll be there.”

  Noelle looked up at him. “Really? You’re coming?”

  He nodded. She wrapped her arms around him and felt something heavy lift from her shoulders.

  “I have an interview,” he said. “Things will be better soon. I promise. And in the meantime, I need you to trust me to take care of you.”

  He looked at her and used his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

  “Okay. Thank you,” she said.

  Friday the thirteenth of November was the night of the showcase, and Noelle was nervous. Not about performing. She’d practiced “For You” so many times that she could play the song in her sleep. Noelle was nervous about seeing Tobyn. She was nervous because her family would be in the audience watching her for the first time in her recent memory.

  The visual artists set up their work in the hallway outside the auditorium, so the first hour of the showcase was dedicated to letting everyone roam around and look at sketches, paintings, sculptures, and photography. Noelle went by and saw Micah’s painting. It was a huge portrait of her brother, Milo. “Oh, Micah,” Noelle said. “I see why you were worried about finishing it now. But it looks so good, girl.”

  Micah grinned.

  Lux’s piece featured a series of photographs of different parts of her body that she mosaicked together to make a fractured self-portrait. Noelle loved it, and so did the gathered crowd. Noelle gave Lux a thumbs-up from where she stood.

  When it was almost time for the second part of the showcase to start, Noelle joined the rest of the performance arts students backstage. She made sure her cello was tuned and swiped her bow hair with rosin.

  She saw Tobyn sipping from a thermos across the busy room. Noelle knew it was full of warm water with honey and lemon, Tobyn’s favorite before-singing drink. And then, a moment later, Tobyn turned and saw her. There were dozens of people between them playing instruments and talking—a few were even dancing—but something about the way Tobyn looked at Noelle made her feel like they were alone. She took a few deep breaths when Tobyn didn’t immediately turn away from her.

  Noelle started toward her friend, but when she was only a few steps away, Ava appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around Tobyn’s waist. Tobyn only hesitated for a second before she hugged her girlfriend back. “Good luck, bae,” Noelle heard Ava say. Tobyn watched Noelle over Ava’s shoulder. “You too, boo,” Tobyn said.

  Noelle turned and quickly went back to the corner where she’d left her cello. She needed to focus on what she was about to do, not the girl hugging someone else half a room away.

  Noelle listened to Tobyn sing right by the edge of the curtain. The song sounded bright and clear, and Noelle couldn’t help but imagine Tobyn accompanying her as she played “For You.” She didn’t know what the words to her song would be, just that Tobyn was the only person who could sing them.

  Noelle left the edge of the stage just before the audience began to applaud Tobyn’s performance. She pulled out her phone and sent her friend a text.

  I can’t even tell you how sorry I am for what I said, T. But this song I’m about to play . . . I wrote it for you. Wait for me in the second-floor bathroom if you think you can forgive me. I’ll explain everything.

  * * *

  Noelle felt like she was hiding as she played, but also like she was finally revealing all of her best-kept secrets. She had sheets of music on a stand in front of her, but she kept her eyes shut for the entire performance and only opened them as she played the final note.

  The audience exploded in applause and Noelle couldn’t hide her grin as she stood and bowed.

  Once she got back behind the curtain, and as soon as she could get away from all her teachers gushing about her piece, she raced to the second floor of Augusta Savage, looking for Tobyn. And she was there waiting as soon as Noelle pushed open the bathroom door, leaning against one of the shiny white sinks.

  “You wrote that,” Tobyn said, “for me?” Noelle let the door close behind her. She nodded slowly. “And you kissed me.” That part wasn’t a question, but Noelle nodded again anyway. “And then said that really mean thing to me.” Noelle looked away.

  “Why?” Tobyn asked.

  “So many reasons,” Noelle said, and she felt sweat trickling down her back and beading across her forehead. “I . . . care about you, Tobyn.”

  “Of course you do,” Tobyn said. “I care about you, too. You’re one of my best friends.”

  Noelle shook her head. “I care about you more . . . no, differently . . . than how I care about Micah and Lux and everyone else.”

  Noelle stepped closer to Tobyn, who was staring at her like she still didn’t understand.

  “But you were with Travis,” Tobyn said. “You’ve always only been with boys.”

  “Yeah. I know it’s confusing,” Noelle agreed. “I’m confused, too. Not about how I feel about you. More about what it means, I guess. How to handle it. What I should do next.”

  Tobyn turned and looked in the mirror that ran the length of the wall over the sinks. She looked at Noelle through the glass instead of directly and said, “Oh.”

  “And I wanted to apologize. For wha
t I said about Ava. It’s no excuse, but I was feeling so . . . I don’t know. Scared I guess. Rejected. I should never have said that. And I don’t know how Ava feels about you. But if she doesn’t love you anymore, she’s the biggest idiot on earth.”

  Tobyn bit her lip.

  “I . . . know this is a lot,” Noelle admitted. “And I get it if you feel like this is coming out of nowhere. But I don’t think I can hide how I feel anymore.”

  Tobyn still didn’t say anything. Noelle felt sick.

  “I won’t try to kiss you again. I shouldn’t have done that in the first place. But Tobyn—and I hope you don’t hate me for saying this; I hope it doesn’t ruin everything—I do want to kiss you again. I’ve wanted to kiss you for months.”

  Noelle found Tobyn’s eyes in the mirror, and then Tobyn turned and looked at her dead on. “But, like, I don’t know what to do with that, Noelle. Sometimes you act like you don’t even like me. You’re always so mean.”

  Noelle bit her bottom lip. “I know,” she said. She was worried she’d said sorry too much, though, and that she hadn’t done enough to show how much she meant it, so she didn’t say it again.

  “So, you do like me?” Tobyn asked.

  “I more than like you, Tobyn,” Noelle replied.

  “Do Micah and Lux know?” Tobyn asked.

  “No.”

  “Does anyone?”

  “No. Unless you count my grandmother in Martinique.”