Ellen Outside the Lines, page 14
“I tried these when my family was here last year,” Madison says. “Strawberry’s the best.”
Laurel reaches for one of the pink drinks.
Sophie-Anne reaches in the same direction, but hesitates, glancing at Madison and then back to the cups before choosing orange.
Laurel turns to me. “Which one do you want, Elle?”
I study the cups, trying to guess what flavor lines up with each color.
A hand waves in my face. “Helloooo?”
I step back fast, blinking Madison into focus.
“It’s kind of rude to have those on when we’re hanging out.” She points to her ears, then mine. “Can you even hear anything we’re saying?”
Isa told me no one would mind if I wore my headphones earlier this week. Now Madison’s saying the opposite.
“I can hear you.”
“O-kay.” One simple word, but it transports me back to our first night in Barcelona. My stomach twists. I look up and spot Meritxell, watching us.
I slide my headphones off. Slip them back into my bag.
“Did you want to get a drink, Elle?” Laurel asks again.
I shake my head.
The other girls pay and we move on, stopping at a kiosk so Madison can buy chocolates shaped like a bouquet of roses.
Laurel buys a small jar of saffron for her mom at a spice stand, then Sophie-Anne orders a paper cup filled with jamón jerky slices. She offers it around. Madison and Laurel take some. Xavi takes a lot. I shake my head when she stops in front of me.
“Oh, sorry! I forgot you don’t eat certain foods.”
“That’s right.” The list fills my thoughts, each word parading behind my eyes. “No pork, no shrimp—”
“Your dad does.”
All of us turn to Madison.
“What?” I swallow hard, trying to keep the rest of my list down.
“He ordered shrimp paella when we went out for dinner. Or maybe it was prawn.”
“No he didn’t.” I take a shallow breath. “He wouldn’t.”
She shrugs. “Except I saw him.”
“Okay, y’all. It doesn’t really matter, right?” I turn, expecting Laurel, but it’s Sophie-Anne who spoke. Nearby, Laurel sips her drink, completely silent.
Needles again. This time they don’t just prickle, they burrow deep into my skin.
We stop in front of a tapas stand for Xavi. I had such good plans for today. I was going to talk to Meritxell, ask her about the Catalan language. Andy and Xavi were supposed to hang out.
Instead, I’m somewhere that’s too-bright, too-loud, too-many-smells. My throat’s too tight to talk to anyone, and Xavi ducks in and out of aisles, barely spending time with us.
It doesn’t really matter. That’s what Sophie-Anne said. But all of this matters to me, from the last-minute decision to change plans to Madison’s claim about Abba.
The sounds start building up in my head again. Soon, my ears pound in time with my pulse. Conversations buzz around me, but the words mean nothing.
“Are you okay?”
It takes me a second to focus on Laurel, but I can’t answer. Can hardly understand her.
She turns to Sophie-Anne and Madison, who’ve stopped to take photos of dried peppers hung up like decorations. They look over at me. Meritxell and Xavi stand nearby, watching, watching, watching.
Laurel takes my hand. It stings, but I don’t have the energy to pull away.
I keep my eyes on my feet, letting her guide me back to Mrs. West. We all leave the boquería together.
My pulse still pounds. I narrow my eyes to keep the light and colors out.
But sneakers still squeak on the pavement.
The hot air clogs my lungs.
Coins clink in performers’ cups.
So many different languages, spoken all at once.
Then, quiet, except for some indistinct, whispered words from Sophie-Anne.
Or maybe it’s Madison.
Air-conditioning.
Little by little, the world comes back to me.
I open my eyes a bit more. Dresses and skirts hang from every wall. Peasant-style blouses at the center of the shop, sandals lined up on a rack near the back. Our group is alone here, except for the store clerk.
“Is this better, Elle?”
Words make sense again. Relief floods through me. “Yes.”
“Okay, good.” Laurel lets out a long breath, shoulders lowering. “Want to look at some dresses while we’re here?”
What I really want to do is rock, but not in front of Mrs. West. Not in front of Sophie-Anne, or Madison, and especially not Meritxell and Xavi. When I don’t answer, Laurel waves me toward a row of dresses.
As she holds a purple dress up in front of a mirror, I touch a blue skirt’s gauzy, soft fabric.
“That’s super pretty, Ellen.” Sophie-Anne stops beside me.
“Yeah,” Laurel agrees. “That color would look great on you.”
“Are you thinking of buying it?” Sophie-Anne asks.
“No.” I frown. “Skirts are uncomfortable.”
I know this is an opinion, not a fact. Something Dr. Talia says I should try to distinguish when I’m having a conversation. Just because I don’t like something doesn’t make it bad.
“Oh.” Sophie-Anne blinks. “Okay.”
Before I can apologize—or decide if I even need to—Sophie-Anne’s already gone, heading over to Madison.
Nearby, Meritxell and Xavi talk in low tones.
“I think we will go now,” Meritxell says. “We don’t want to buy dresses. Especially Xavi.”
Xavi rolls his eyes, and I can’t help feeling he would’ve had a much better time with Andy.
“But thank you for inviting us.” Meritxell looks at me when she says this. My chest doesn’t flutter. All I feel is heavy. Tired.
The other girls wave goodbye, then return to their shopping.
Soon, Laurel drapes two dresses over one arm. Sophie-Anne and Madison head toward a changing area with their own selections. Laurel hesitates.
“I’m sorry today hasn’t been fun for you.” She keeps her voice down, like she’s sharing a secret. “Want to have a sleepover tonight, like we used to?”
“But we’re already in the same hotel room.”
“Well, yeah,” Laurel says. “But we can make it feel like a sleepover. Like, we can stream a movie or listen to music. Whatever you want.”
The knots in my stomach loosen. “All right.”
“I’m going to try these on.” Laurel holds up the dresses. “Come with me?”
A Saturday night sleepover, just like we used to do. I take a deep breath, letting the cool air settle in my chest. The quiet in the shop soothes me even more. I follow Laurel back to the dressing area, feeling lighter already.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Later that evening, I help Laurel move her bed up against mine.
She grabs her iPad and props it up against a pillow. “What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I actually want to watch The Emperor’s New Groove, but Laurel stopped wanting to watch Disney movies a couple of years ago.
“Sophie told me about a cheerleading docuseries on YouTube.” Laurel taps into the app. “If you don’t care what we watch, maybe we could start that?”
Not knowing and not caring are two different things, but Laurel’s already clicked on the first episode.
We watch interviews with high school freshmen and sophomores hoping to make their school’s junior varsity team. It’s not the most interesting thing ever, but Laurel’s eyes stay fixed on the screen as the cheerleading hopefuls move on to tryouts in the second episode.
“This is nice,” I say as the video switches from interviews to a montage of tumbling passes. “I feel so much calmer now.”
“Awesome.” Laurel throws a smile my way. “It’s definitely quieter than at La Rambla.”
Laurel’s gaze returns to the screen, and I pull out my phone to a mountain of notifications. I forgot I’d silenced it earlier.
Andy (he/him)
Hope you had fun today, Ellen!
Isa (they/them)
The castellers were amazing.
Gibs (a dude)
Still super bummed they didn’t take volunteers.
I would’ve made a great addition to the human tower
Isa (they/them)
You would’ve died
Isa (they/them)
Here’s what it looked like, Ellen!
I click the photo they sent. Over a dozen people stand on the ground in a circle. They all wear white pants with black sashes around their waists. Each person holds the ankles of another performer, standing on their shoulders. The castell narrows the higher I look, until there’s just one person at the top.
Andy (he/him)
We also talked about where we want to go after we figure out the third clue.
Gibs (a dude)
Park with the !
Isa (they/them)
But only if that’s okay with you, Ellen
There are other texts, but I reply to Isa’s first.
Ellen
That’s fine with me. Also, I looked it up and El Drac means “The Dragon” in Catalan.
Isa responds immediately.
Isa (they/them)
Might need to rethink some things, Gibs!
Gibs (a dude)
DRAGONS ARE JUST BIG LIZARDS
I laugh and Laurel looks over at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say. “My team’s just being silly.”
“Ah.” She glances back at her iPad. The squad’s been chosen now, and they’re gearing up for their first event. “So, you’re having fun with them and getting through the clues okay?”
Two questions in one, but both have the same answer, which makes things simpler. “Yes.”
I glance at my phone again and notice Andy’s added pronouns next to his name. Same for Gibs, in his own way. I tap into my profile and update my display name.
“That’s nice.” Laurel sighs.
I’m about to ask her what’s wrong when my phone buzzes again.
Isa (they/them)
Anyway… are we hanging out in the garden tonight?
Gibs (a dude)
lolnope zzz
Andy (he/him)
I’m down. Same time as usual?
I look from my phone to Laurel, then back again.
Ellen (she/her/hers)
I can’t tonight. I’m hanging out with Laurel.
Isa (they/them)
That’s cool. There’s always tomorrow!
Gibs (a dude)
“Okay, I think I need a break.” Laurel pauses the video after the homecoming football game episode. “How do you feel about makeovers?”
“Like in general?”
“I mean for us.” She makes the mattress bounce. “Tonight.”
Laurel should know I’m not interested. But something seemed wrong earlier, so I offer a compromise.
“Not for me. But we can do your hair and makeup together.”
“That works!” Laurel hops up. “I want to see what looks best with my new dress.”
I follow her to the bathroom.
“Plus, you’re so honest, you can give me your opinion,” she says. “That’ll help a ton.”
A flash of guilt. I definitely wasn’t honest about asking Abba to switch teams. After today with Meritxell, I’m not even sure being honest all the time is a good thing.
Laurel flips on the bathroom light and empties her makeup bag. “I usually like pastels, but I don’t think they’ll look right with my new dress. Actually, hold that thought. I’ll go put it on!”
As she scampers back into the bedroom, I scan the counter. Blush. Eye shadow. Mascara. Four different colors of lip gloss. I organize them alphabetically on the counter: cheeks, eyelids, lashes, mouth.
Laurel opens the door wider and twirls. “What do you think?”
“It’s very purple.”
“So purple. I adore it.” She grins.
“Is someone in there?” Sophie-Anne calls from the other room.
“Yes, but you can come in!” Laurel calls back.
The door swings open.
“Oh my actual gosh, Laurel,” Sophie-Anne says, “that dress!”
Laurel looks down, then lifts the skirt. “You think?”
“So. Cute.”
It’s like they’re speaking a different language in half sentences.
Madison appears in the doorway. “FYI: perfect shade.”
Laurel beams. “We were just going to see what makeup and hair works best with it.”
“I want to help!” Sophie-Anne claps, and I take a step back, bumping into the towel hanger. “We should all try on our dresses and give ourselves makeovers.”
“We totally should,” Laurel says.
“Be right back!” Sophie-Anne takes off with Madison.
“That’s okay, right, Elle?” Laurel looks at me.
The smile hasn’t left her face since the other girls arrived.
I make myself nod.
So much for being honest.
Half an hour later, all three girls are in full makeup. They’ve straightened their hair with Sophie-Anne’s hot iron, then pulled it up with ties and clips.
“We really should do Ellen, too,” Sophie-Anne says.
“What do you think, Elle?” Laurel asks. “Just a little makeup?”
“No, thanks.”
“Would you do it for Meritxell?”
I stare at Madison.
“You said she was cute,” Madison says. Out of the corner of my eye, Laurel reaches for her necklace. “We wear makeup for boys, so it’d probably also work for girls.”
“I… um.” I try to imagine myself in makeup, talking to Meritxell, but come up blank. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Madison turns to Sophie-Anne. “Is your hot iron still plugged in?”
“Wait,” I stammer. “I don’t want—”
But Sophie-Anne is already up. She grabs a brush, while Laurel sorts through eye shadow.
Madison crosses her arms over her Thrash ’em! tank top and studies me. She turns for just long enough to grab a jar of foundation off the counter.
“This tone should work.” She dabs a drop of beige liquid onto the side of her hand. “Tuck your hair behind your ears.”
I give up and grab some clips off the counter. When my hair is pinned back from my cheeks and forehead, Madison selects a makeup brush. She leans in and begins to smooth foundation over my face. It feels strange and heavy, like a layer of paint.
“Elle,” Laurel says. “Don’t wrinkle your nose.”
“But it feels weird.”
“You’ll get used to it in a second.” Madison continues her work. “Now the blush, Sophie.”
Blush, at least, is quick, and doesn’t feel as thick on my skin. Same for eye shadow.
Then comes the liquid eyeliner.
“Look up,” Madison instructs.
I tilt my head toward the ceiling.
“Just your eyes.”
I jerk my head back down, fingers thrumming against my leg.
Madison sighs, and Laurel steps into view.
“Your head is shaking when you do that.” Laurel splays her fingers in the air. “Madison just wants to make the lines even.”
“I’m sorry.”
Also nervous. The more Madison touches my face, the more I wish I could escape the bathroom. The words I use are one of the things Dr. Talia says I can control, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
Except the longer I force my body to stay still, the antsier I feel.
I focus on the ceiling as Madison draws a cold line across my bottom eyelid.
“Okay, Sophie.” Madison steps back. “Hair time.”
Sophie-Anne removes one of the clips in my hair, then lifts her brush.
She hits a snarl, and I wince.
“Sorry! Your hair’s just so curly.”
She goes through the strands slowly, carefully, but it still hurts.
Then, a hot hiss against my temple. Surprised, I jerk a little.
“Careful,” Sophie-Anne says. “I don’t want to burn you.”
I close my eyes. As Sophie-Anne continues her work, Madison compares cosmetics brands, explaining why one is clearly superior to the others. I tune her out and try to think of Meritxell. She’s who I’m supposed to be doing this for.
But every time I try to imagine her, I see Isa instead. Isa telling me I’m brave. Isa grinning when I say something they think is funny.
“All done!”
Sophie-Anne steps back. Slowly, I open my eyes.
“You look amazing,” Laurel says.
“Like at least a year older.” Madison nods.
I stare at myself under the harsh bathroom lights. I look like myself, but also different. My eyes seem bigger, shimmering with bronze eye shadow. My cheeks are pink and rosy, freckles completely hidden.
And my hair. At its longest in curls, it never falls below my chin. Now, it swishes against the top of my shoulders, completely straight. I tuck a strand behind my ear and it stays in place.
“Now people will notice you,” Madison says. “Boys and girls.”
I wonder if the same goes for nonbinary people, then push the thought away, hoping the makeup will conceal my flushed cheeks.
“So,” Madison says. “Now that that’s done, what should we do next?”
“Ellen and I started watching that cheerleading series you told us about,” Laurel says.
I wait for her to explain we were also having a sleepover, just the two of us.
But Laurel swings the door to our room open wider. “Did y’all want to hang out in our room? We moved our beds together so there’s plenty of space.”
My body goes cold. Before I can say a word, Sophie-Anne skips into our room.
“Ooooh, I love that show!” She drops onto our combined beds. “Have you gotten to the state champs episode yet?”
We settle in. As the other girls watch the next episode, I look around at each of them. Study their hair that’s perfectly straight. Their makeup that looks natural because they wear it on a daily basis. The way they finish each other’s sentences.
