Ellie is Cool Now

Chapter 11

The woodland sprite has a name. It takes a second that name to register, and for the tiny black dots in my peripheral vision to clear. My eyes have to refocus. They go wide and then zoom in, right back on Mark's lips as they twist around that name. And that other word. The one that starts with an "f" but isn't fuck.

"Oh my God, Mark," she says, her voice high, clear, like the chime of a church bell. "Call me Liz. Only my mom calls me Elizabeth."

She smiles. Her teeth are perfectly straight, gleaming white, but her smile is adorably crooked. It's not the smile of a girl you hate: twisty and judgy — okay, like my smile on occasion, if I'm being totally honest. This smile is sweet, and I know without knowing her that she has the personality to back it up.

"I'm Ellie," I say. Did Mark already introduce us? I hope not, but in my momentary fugue state, I wouldn't know. I think I smile. I can't be sure at this point. "I went to Stonybrook. Class of 2008. Woohoo!" I halfway fist pump. It's horrible.

Emma raises her voice behind me. "Your dad delivered flowers yesterday from the reunion committee, Mark. He looked great."

I sidestep so Emma has the floor. My face heats up and I pray they can't see how red I am. Damn this sober gymnasium. I need a rum and coke.

"He's holding up. It's been rough, but we're managing," Mark says.

I want to ask why, what's wrong, what happened, but Liz reaches for Mark's hand and squeezes it and all I can see is that ring. That stupid modestly-sized simple two carat solitaire on Liz's ring finger. Sparkling at me, taunting me.

Mark's eyes flick to mine and then quickly away. Suddenly I feel like a jerk. Something bad happened to Mark's dad and all I can do is stare at her ring like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. The precious.

Emma cuts the tension again without even knowing it. "The card said, Wish you were here." She rolls her eyes. "Might as well have said, Stay home. Your battle with mortality doesn't match the reunion aesthetic."

I love her. She's my favorite person at this reunion. Maybe ever.

Liz bites her lip. Glances at Mark. Travels over me and lands back on Emma.

"Well, your scarf totally matches the table linens," Liz finally says.

Oh. Wow.

Emma grins. "Go Wildcats!"

We all laugh — mine admittedly a little thin. My eyes trail to Mark, and he's looking at me again. I see the muscle in his jaw tense, and two tiny lines appear between his brows. Fast, there and gone, and then Liz is back on us.

"So, you and Mark were friends in high school?" she asks.

"We bumped into each other once." I pause, flick my eyes at him. "He was way more popular than me."

"I wasn't popular," he says, rubbing his hand along the nape of his neck.

"You had a crowd," I say.

"I knew your name," Emma adds. Female solidarity is the best. I have to remember to thank Emma — but not with a bouquet of flowers. She obviously gets enough of those. "That's saying something."

"Mark got invited to all the parties," I add. Our eyes meet again. I don't know if he remembers the one I'm thinking of. The one where he was tipsy or maybe even drunk. The one that ended in a dark room with Roxy, and me in tears.

"I can't imagine you a party guy," Liz says, running her hand up his arm and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. Her ring catches the light from a swirling disco ball and glitters.