"I am telling you pistachio is the best-tasting flavor here."
It's around six o'clock at night at my favorite ice cream parlor, Sweet Treat, and my indecisive friend Mina can't make up her mind on what flavor to get. This wouldn't be a problem if we hadn't been standing in front of the counter for ten minutes already and been receiving angry sighs from the two boys behind us eager to get their hands on a sundae.
"But what if Iâ"
Before Mina can even finish, I order us two pistachio bowls. The worker behind the counter, a grumpy teenage girl, mutters something under her breath and picks up an ice cream scoop. Even she is tired of Mina's indecisiveness.
"You didn't even let me order!" she cries at me, as if I had just committed a heinous crime. We take our bowls and start walking to the small red booth in the corner of the store, our favorite spot for the past four years.
I roll my eyes. "Mina, if I had waited for you to finally make up your mind, I would have hitchhiked to Mars and came back by the time you ordered."
"I swear you are the biggest exaggerator I know," she remarks, taking a seat in the red booth. She ties her straight black hair up and rests her fists under her chin like an upset five-year-old. "If this tastes bad, you're paying me back."
"Hahaâit won't." I take a big spoonful of the ice cream and regret it after feeling a giant brain freeze. I always thought I was stronger than this.
"You okay, Whitney?" Mina asks, putting down her spoon.
"Just peachy." Once I feel fine again, I take another spoonful and watch Mina take her third delightfully, her large coffee-colored eyes widening. Once again, I am never wrong when it comes to ice cream.
"Do you ever think we have too much ice cream?" Mina asks. She looks down at her bowl and lightly pushes it away from her. Seconds later she pulls it back closer and her fingers toy with the spoon as if mentally debating whether to keep eating it.
Mina is always conscious about what she eats considering her mother is an esteemed socialite and has the body of a twenty-year-old at forty-six. Therefore, she's kind of forced to live up to her mother's high standards.
"Oh Mina, sweet, sweet Mina, one can never have enough ice cream," I answer, placing my hand on the table. "Well unless you're lactose intolerant."
"I guess not," she replies with a laugh. A distant look crosses her face, a look she gets when she's thinking about something on the back of her mind, and a sigh escapes her lips. "It's still not dawning upon me high school is over. It seems like yesterday we were clueless freshmen getting our hair stuck in lockers."
The last part of the statement is definitely true. We met during our freshman year helping each other get our hair out of our lockers, which we used to slam shut without even thinking. A month into high school we grew out of that habit, and that was about the time we discovered Sweet Treat, our little haven to get away from the drama of high school. I had frizzy hair at that time and Mina was a scrawny fourteen-year-old, barely five feet tall. I cringe when I recall those times.
"Oh, it's hit me already," I answer her. "And I literally could not be happier. Hell School is over." I sing the last part in a falsetto my music teacher in high school would've given me detention over and do a little dance with my hands.
"But we're old now," she whines with a pout. "I'm not ready for all the responsibility yet."
"Mina, you're going to college, not to war."
"I know, I know," she answers and groans slightly before looking up at me. "What do you think you're going to miss though? I mean come on, there has to be something."
Hard question. I can't think of anything my heart will yearn for about high school. Even after only a few days of being away from that place, I'm already working on completely blocking out all four years. I've gotten about the first semester of freshman year ticked off my mental checklist.
"It's kind of hard between the mountains of homework, weekly gym torture and... Willow Gerard." I shudder as I mention her name.
Willow Gerard is the most popular bitch at our high school. Well, was the most popular bitch, now that she's graduated with us. You could almost blame anything negative that happened in school on her.
A circulating rumor Juan and Michael were secretly dating?
Willow Gerard.
Robotics club president Alexa crying in the corner after lunch time?
Willow Gerard.
A pounding headache after having two classes in a row with her?
Willow Gerard.
And how could I forget; the main reason I want to block out all four years of my high school experience?
No one else but Willow Estelle Gerard.
She, in short, is evil.
"Now you just gave me one full reason to be happy I am out of high school," Mina says, rubbing her forehead.
You see, everyone hates Willow. The teachers, the people in other grades, and even her best friends, yet everyone manages to keep kissing her non-existent ass.
But while Mina despises her for petty reasons, I don't think she realizes just to what extent I don't like her either.
"I guess we shouldâ" I begin, but my eyes flit upwards, catching sight of a familiar blonde with a mousy face, sporting a handbag half the size of her skinny body. "Speak of the devil, there's Willow."
"You're lying," Mina says and turns around. "Crap!" She places her hands on the back of her head, angling her head down at the white table.
I continue to watch Willow with my peripheral vision while I eat the rest of my half-melted ice cream. Unfortunately, my indiscreet ways catch her eyes, and she shoots me her signature wide, white-toothed smile.
That's fake of course.
"Why hello, Whitney," she says, staring between us, although her eyes eventually rest on me. Mina has taken her hands off her head but doesn't look Willow's way. "And Mina, of course. Such a coincidence we'd run into each other here, but then again, Whitney is probably always here anyway."
I suck in my cheeks and purse my lips to contain myself. Well excuse me, but I only come here once a week.
"You know, Willow, I don't recall inviting you over here," I grumble pushing my bowl to the side. It suddenly looks less appealing.
"I just thought a friendly greeting wouldn't kill," she answers, moving her beige handbag with a logo that could be seen from a mile away from her right arm to her left. "Besides, Mina, since you don't seem to be dead, I see no reason why you've avoided every one of my texts."
Mina lets out a breath. "Look, let's make something clear here." At last she finally speaks up. Brushing her sleek ponytail to the side with her hand to look up at Willow, she finishes rather curtly, "Just because our mothers are friends, doesn't mean we are. So I'd appreciate if you, I don't know, leave?"
She bites the edge of her lip, staring at me with an expression I can't particularly decipher. Typically, if she was staring my way, it was most likely because an insult she was ready to hurl at me was brewing in her mind. Except now, there seems to be the tiniest, tiniest bit of...remorse?
Listening to Mina's suggestion, she eventually turns around and walks swiftly away from us. When she gets far enough away, I look to Mina.
"I think it would be a good idea if we left. Like yesterday."
"Don't worry, I'm right before you on this one," she mumbles, stacking our ice cream bowls and throwing them out in the trash across from us. We walk out the door together, greeted by the humid June weather.
"Did you see how she wouldn't stop staring at me?" I hiss at Mina, throwing my hands up before leaning against my silver car. I drop my hands, hitting my arm on the trunk accidentally, and end up jumping up from the pain.
"Wait, Whitney, aren't you going to be late?" Mina holds her phone to me to show me the time.
Late? But then it clicks in my head. Today is the big dinner at my house my mother hasn't stopped talking about.
"I don't even know how I forgot," I mumble, scrambling to unlock my car. "I have to leave now!"
"See you tomorrow or something!" Mina calls. Lucky for her, she lives close by enough to walk, but I, on the other hand, have to drive a half hour before I finally reach the road leading to my neighborhood. I pull out of the parking lot and head on to the main street before rolling to a stop at a red light.
Often there are things in my house that are absolutely mandatory. Like visiting a certain relative or going on a family hike (the hike I've managed to get out of twice by faking my death).
This time it's a dinner. What's special about this dinner is my sister, Poppy, and her boyfriend, Levi, are finally visiting us. After graduating from Columbia, they spent nearly a month vacationing the country together, and in her words, "doing things Mom won't ever know about."
I can't say they didn't deserve the break, as they're both competitive overacheievers and archersâI know right, archeryâgraduating summa cum laude with plans to head to law school and med school in the future.
I, on the other hand, like to keep the overachieving to the minimum, just having the grades to parallel my sister. Other than that, I'm a disaster at athletics, and the closest I get to an Ivy League right now is the Yale brochure stuffed into my desk drawer.
My collected thoughts keep me entertained as I drive to my home. Before I know it, the entrance of my neighborhood appears. I pull up into my driveway, taking note neither Levi's nor Poppy's cars are here. For once I am actually early.
"I'm home!" I call to no one in particular as I walk through the front door.
"Whitney, you're early!" my mother exclaims, once I walk into the kitchen. She pulls out what appears to be a roast from the oven and sets it on the counter.
"Shocker, isn't it?" I say, giving her a quick hug. She laughs and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Honey, can you set the table?" she asks, handing me a stack of plates. "Poppy and Levi should be here in a few minutes."
"Sure." I take the plates and set them on the dining room table. I hurry as I place forks and knives neatly and roll up the napkins and bring over the large bowl of salad. I then run to my room to change, pulling on a black dress I bought at one of my monthly shopping binges. They mainly consist of me and Mina buying plenty of clothes we don't exactly need and crying over our shrinking wallets afterwards.
As I put on some mascara and then brush my long and tangled brown hair, I can hear Poppy with our father downstairs. She's chattering on about how nice it is to be back home and every now and then I can hear my dad laugh at something she says. They've always had such a comfortable relationship, something I can only dream of.
I finally decide to join the party a few minutes later. Poppy is sitting next to my father on the couch, and Levi is with my mother in the kitchen, offering her advice about something. Poppy glances up and springs to her feet.
"Whitney!" she squeals, running over and squeezing me into a hug.
"Hey," I say, squeezing her back and enjoying the sisterly comfort for a few seconds more. She tilts her head down to look at me and I tilt my head up. Clearly, she inherited the really tall genes. Levi comes over, and Poppy and I let go of each other.
"Whitney," he says, stretching the syllables in my name and holding his hand out. From the times we've met, we've made this weird handshake no one else can ever replicate. I laugh when I mess it up halfway through, and we try it again.
"Dinner's ready," my father calls to all of us, coming into the living room. We hurry over to the dining table, and before we eat, my father pops open a bottle of champagne. Once everyone else has filled their glasses, I take some as well, wanting to fit in. It's annoying always being the youngest at these gatherings.
"Now, come on, tell us all about how you two have been," my mother says, clasping her hands together.
Levi smiles and wraps his arm around Poppy. "We have been absolutely great. This year was tough, but we got through it."
Hearing that isn't a shock to everyone. Sometimes I wonder if he and my sister might actually be robots, able to execute everything with the utmost perfection, and tirednessâwell, it's not a part of their vocabulary.
"We didn't expect anything less with you two," my dad says with a chuckle, taking a sip of champagne afterwards. He leans over to his right and clinks glasses with my mother.
"And Florida was amazing," my sister adds. "Levi's parents hosted the nicest vacation for us."
"They love you," Levi says, giving Poppy a kiss on her cheek. My mother practically awws out loud, and I'm stuck between being happy for their relationship and wanting to gag.
"But we're actually here today because we have an announcement," Poppy says.
An announcement?
It grows quiet, and my mother and father turn to look at each other. They seem worried, as if Poppy is about to tell us something terrible. The longer I stare at their worried faces, I become a little paranoid myself.
"You can tell us anything," my father tells them, his eyes fixated on their linked hands. Levi nods, clearing his throat.
"Poppy and Iâ" he begins, but my fork falls off the table and hits the hardwood with a harsh clang. Everyone's eyes turn to me, and I can feel my cheeks grow hot.
"Oops, sorry," I say sheepishly, bending sideways to pick it up. Once I place it back on the table, Levi gives me a smile and continues.
"We're here to tell you Poppy and I... We're engaged!"
At those words, I nearly knock over my glass of champagne, my mother almost cracks her glass with her squeal and my father practically drops his onto the floor. I can see for a brief second both Poppy's and Levi's faces pale, as if regretting ever mentioning it. But after seeing my mother hurry over to them, Poppy smiles and reaches over to grab her bag from the back of her seat. My father looks at Levi, whose face is still slightly pale, for a good long time before giving him, from what I can gather, a look of approval.
"Where's the ring?" my mother questions as Poppy shuffles through her bag. She finally pulls out a blue box and sets it on the table.
"Here it is," she says, with a smile so wide her sea green eyes crease up at the sides. She pushes the gleaming engagement ring towards my mother, and I lean over the table to get a better look. "I didn't want to wear it and spoil the surprise so soon."
My father clears his throat, his eyes darting from the ring to the newly engaged couple. "I will admit I wouldn't appreciated this being done the old-fashioned way..." Yeah, like, Levi asking for Poppy's hand in marriage maybe? "But congratulations, to the both of you."
My mother begins showering the two of them with hugs and kisses while my father studies the ring. They settle down shortly afterwards, and I know their inquisition about the engagement is only starting.
"So, when exactly are you planning to have the wedding?" my father asks, drumming his fingers lightly against his glass. Levi's grey eyes widen slightly, and Poppy clears her throat.
"Well...Levi and I thought this through for a while, and we agreed we wanted a wedding in the warm weather," Poppy begins. "And since the weather here is pretty cool half the year, we decided it would be best if we held it in the summer."
"This summer," Levi mumbles.
My parents' jaws drop. "This summer?" my mom repeats.
"Towards the end of August," Levi clarifies. "We feel that since we've been together for almost four years, there's no need to prolong the engagement."
"But what about your future plans, Poppy?" my mom asks, furrowing her eyebrows together. "You're already taking a year off before law school. Are you sure this won't make you want to hold off on those dreams forever?"
Just as much as my father and I avoid each other, my mom and Poppy clash on everything. I can tell my sister doesn't want this discussion, as she sucks in her cheeks slightly and grips her champagne glass a little harder.
"Mom, I don't think we need to talk about that right now," she says and forces a smile to turn to me. "Let's focus on this news."
As plans for the wedding bounce around the table and my mother grows slightly less horrified at the idea, I begin to feel like a bit of an outsider. I take the time to study Poppy and Levi, especially the way they sit so close together their arms brush every few seconds, yet neither of them complains. I also notice how her hand slips to his thigh in the middle of the dinner, sending him a devious smirk, before quickly retracting it. Even though they've been together for four years, I haven't been around them long enough to realize how lively their relationship is in the details.
I only wonder if I'll ever experience a love like that.