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Perfectly Normal

Seventeen Years Old, Tennessee

Last Christmas, my parents were cognizant enough to tuck gifts under the tree, a few for each other, plenty for me. I didn’t get them anything. My mind was too soupy for online shopping and, while Macy offered to come with me, I couldn’t muster energy enough to endure a trip to the mall. Sitting in the living room Christmas morning, pulling paper from presents, molding my face into a weak approximation of appreciation, was like trying to breathe underwater.

This year, I want to do better.

The Friday school lets out for winter break, Paloma and I go to the Mall at Green Hills. It’s packed, but we link arms and wade into the crowd, on the hunt for gifts.

She picks out a bathrobe for her mom, and I get mine perfume that smells of jasmine. Our dads are more challenging. After an hour of searching, we settle on wallets from Dillard’s. Then, ravenous, we pick up lemonades and soft pretzels at Auntie Annie’s. We’re people watching and stuffing our faces when Paloma’s name rings out. A couple of boys make their way toward us, sidestepping frenzied shoppers. One, who I’ve seen bullshitting with friends at school, has rich brown skin and hair buzzed short.

The other is Isaiah.

“Hey, Trev,” Paloma says, popping up to hug the taller of the two tall boys. She bumps fists with Isaiah, then turns to introduce me. “Lia, this is Trevor. He’s one of the first people I met when I moved to River Hollow last year. And this is Isaiah.”

Trevor grins. “Good to meet you, Lia.”

“Yeah, same.”

He knocks his shoulder against Isaiah’s, an obvious prompt.

Isaiah lifts his eyes to mine and, smoothly, says, “Hey.”

“Hi,” I return, as if I’ve never before set eyes on him.

How disingenuous, considering I had my tongue in his mouth a few weeks ago.

Paloma and Trevor spend a couple minutes catching up. Apparently he’s on the basketball team, which has been playing preseason games for the last couple of weeks. He’s just started going out with a junior named Molly, and he’s hoping like hell she likes the bracelet he just picked out for her. I gather all this with my eyes glued to the floor, thinking about how Isaiah and Trevor make an odd pair. Trevor seems gregarious, a sharer and an easy laugher. Isaiah, conversely, is kind of emo. He strikes me as a creative type. Since we met, I’ve wondered about him as a photographer, or a musician, or a painter—I’ve wondered about him a lot, truthfully—and that makes me curious about his connection with basketballer Trevor.

“Who are you shopping for, Isaiah?” Paloma asks.

He clears his throat. “Uh, Naya.”

My head snaps up, my gaze colliding with his.

Who the hell is Naya?

His girlfriend, probably.

Shit. He has a girlfriend.

He has a girlfriend, and I kissed him.

He looks away.

Heat ravages my neck, my face.

“That’s sweet,” Paloma tells him, and then she shines a smile on me. “Should we get back to it? I’ve still got to find something for Liam.”

I nod. My voice has fled.

“Have a good break,” Paloma tells the guys.

“Merry Christmas, P,” Trevor says. “Nice meeting you, Lia.”

I wave slackly as they disappear into the crowd.

Paloma drops down on our bench, breaking off a length of pretzel to point accusingly in my direction. “Girl. What the hell?”

I gulp my lemonade in an effort to cool off.

She persists. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

I balance my drink between us. “You mean…?”

She laughs. “I mean the weirdness between you and Isaiah. Do you know him?”

I sigh. “We’ve met.”

“And…what? You didn’t vibe?”

“Oh, we vibed.”

She gives me a cat-with-a-mouthful-of-canary grin. “Tell me everything.”

I do.

She reacts accordingly: sympathy as I recount how I gave in to grief, pride as I describe the way Isaiah and I tidied the hallway, hopefulness as I tell her about those few moments when I conversed like an emotionally healthy person.

“Then I kissed him,” I tell her, and she nearly falls to the floor.

“Did he kiss you back?”

“He did.”

“And…?”

I close my eyes. “It was good.”

I feel conflicted, awful , admitting this truth.

Paloma squeals. “So where’s the problem?”

“Problems,” I clarify. “First, I spent my whole life believing I was never meant to kiss anyone but Beck.”

“Lia, it was an impulsive moment during a really hard day. And look, I don’t know if saying so is going to make you feel better or worse, but it’s not as if you cheated. Please don’t beat yourself up.”

I scoff. “Too late. Besides, what about Naya?”

She arcs an eyebrow. “Naya?”

“The girl he’s shopping for?”

“Yeah. His sister.”

“I…oh.”

“Did you think—?”

“I don’t know what I thought.”

She smiles, though her expression is veiled in concern. “I don’t know him well, but he seems like a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” I say, remembering the way he hugged me without hesitation. The way he cleaned up after our classmates. The way he played off my meltdown like it’s perfectly normal for a girl to lose her shit during a seemingly average afternoon.

Paloma’s eyes spark with mirth. “A nice guy, and a good kisser.”

“Okay,” I say, pulling her off the bench. “I thought you needed a present for Liam?”

“Yeah,” she says, letting me pull her into the sea of shoppers. “I guess I do.”

I owe her one for letting it go.