Coolness Personified

Chapter 1

March 7

“You’re joking me, right?” Lizzie smacked her Coke cup down on the food court table and gave David an exasperated look. “She’s—what? Like, the third girlfriend you’ve managed to lose since Sarah?”

With a curl of his lip, David jerked his face away from Lizzie’s glare. “Second.”

“You’ve got to quit this self-sabotaging, David.”

“Self-what?”

“Self-sabotaging. Doing things that cannot possibly end well for you. Consciously or unconsciously.”

“Where’d you pick up that bit of drivel?”

“My friend, James. Psychology PhD. Almost.”

“Oh, you’ve got a psychiatrist over at the old folks’ home?”

“Psychologist.” Lizzie sighed. “Doesn’t matter.” She stirred the ice cubes in the cardboard cup, making a little racket. “How did this one happen?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I only told her I’d pick her up after my Fortnite game. I was being considerate, letting her know when to expect me.”

“No, David.”

“No?”

“No. What you’ve done is to tell her the stupid Fortnite game is more important than she is. Even your Fortnite friend is more important than she is and, at best, she’s an afterthought.” Lizzie sucked the melted ice cube water off the bottom of the cup, regarding David from under her lashes.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Two tables away, one guy in a group of six acknowledged David with a chin jerk.

“You know them?” Lizzie asked. She tossed a few puffs of popcorn into her mouth.

“From my school.”

Lizzie gave them a sidelong glance. At the end of the table, two girls chatted and laughed. “What about her?”

“Who?”

“The one with the long hair eating fries. She’s cute.”

David shrugged.

“David, you’ve got to get over Sarah. It’s been months already.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got an entire school full of girls. There must be at least one other girl you’d like to go out with.”

She’d seen that look before, something between shy and embarrassed. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “There’s Giselle.”

“So?”

“So, she’s going out with Jessie.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Too cliched anyway.”

“Huh?”

“There was a song like that. A long time ago.”

“I suppose you learned that at the old folks’ home, too?”

“I suppose. You’d be surprised what you can learn at the old folks’ home.” Lizzie allowed herself an inward laugh, recalling hearing the song while watching the line dancing class at Wren Haven—A Continuing Care Retirement Community, where she lived with her grandmother, Mimi. Settling in after the car crash killed her parents had been tough for both of them, but more so for Lizzie. With the extra distance to where she used to live, she saw no one from her school outside of class, giving her an unreal feeling of being adrift. She’d only met David by accident—literally—but thank goodness he’d turned out to be a good friend.

Lizzie grabbed the bag with her remaining popcorn, and said, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

As David drove toward Wren Haven, he switched from his sotto voce traffic complaints to, “So who’s James?”

“He used to give lessons to the residents at Wren Haven’s computer center. It was a part-time gig for him while he finished his graduate studies in psychology. We got to be sort of friendly. But Wren Haven closed the computer center, so I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

“You want to do something tomorrow?”

“Nah. I’ve got to start one of those online review courses for the SAT.”

“You know that’s optional, right?”

“I know. But I figure if I do pretty well, it’ll look good on my college applications.”

“You know where you’re applying?”

“Wish I did.” Lizzie sighed and looked out the car window, the earlier mist having turned into a drizzle, the rivulets of which distorted the roadway scene. “This whole process is so onerous. Take the test so I can apply, but I need to know what I want to be, so I know where to apply. So, it’s like I have to plan out my whole life within the next couple of weeks. At sixteen.”

“If it’s such a pain, maybe you’ll decide to skip the hassle and just stay at Wren Haven. Call it an early retirement.”

Lizzie grabbed the last handful of her popcorn and lobbed it at David, which he fended off as well as he could while driving.

Chapter 2

March 14

With something of a flourish, Lizzie dropped a card down on the counter of Wren Haven’s pharmacy, took a step back, crossed her arms and grinned.

“What’s this?” Larry, the pharmacy manager, asked.

“My driver’s learning permit. It proves I’ve turned sixteen.”

“So?”

Lizzie scanned the racks in the immediate space, then tamped some magazines together so they sat in their rack more neatly. “Suppose you could use some help around here, Larry?”

Larry scrunched his face up and scratched the back of his neck.

“Last year you said I couldn’t work here because I wasn’t sixteen yet. Now I am.”

“Lizzie, I never promised you a job.”

Lizzie took a step closer to the counter, changed her posture to demure, hands clasped behind her back and looked up at him with what she hoped were puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Larry paced two steps in either direction, then stopped and pointed at Lizzie. “All right. Nine to one, Saturday mornings. I don’t want Mimi accusing me of taking up so much of your time that you’ll neglect your schoolwork. If you do a good job, come summer I’ll see if maybe there are a few more hours for you.”

With a grin and enthusiastic nods, Lizzie grabbed her permit back.

Larry continued, “Minimum wage. You’ll tidy up. Keep the shelves stocked. I’ll teach you how to ring up sales. But you won’t touch the drugs until I’ve stapled them into the bags. And if anyone has a question about their prescriptions, you give me a shout.”

“Deal!”

Lizzie bounced toward the entrance, then pivoted. “Can you do direct deposit for me? I’ve got an account at RealBank across the hall.”

Now Larry smiled. “Sure.”

As she walked toward the door, Lizzie smiled to herself as she heard him mumble, “Looks like I’ve got a helper.”

Chapter 3

March 21

Lizzie sat propped up against the back of the pull-out sofa that served as her bed, cell phone to her ear. “David.”

“Hey, Lizzie.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Want to do something?”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Lizzie pushed the sheets of the unmade bed with her heels. Should get this made up. “Why don’t you come over?”

“Done with your drugstore job?”

“Yeah. Finished and had lunch.” The two of them lapsed into silence, a pretty common occurrence, the way it happens between two friends. “I know! You could teach me to drive!”

“Didn’t you say one of the old guys already taught you to drive?”

“Just to drive a golf cart. But I got pretty good at it. C’mon. There are lots of big driveways around here and no traffic. It will be your contribution to society. You’ll keep Mimi from having a heart attack trying to teach me with her car.”

“Okay. See you in an hour.”

Lizzie pushed through the next chapter of her English assignment before David rapped on the patio door.

“Want a soda?”

“Sure.”

Lizzie popped them each a can, and David slumped down into a kitchen chair and began flipping through the day-old Wren Haven News lying on the table. He looked up as the apartment door opened and Mimi came in.

“Oh, David. Nice to see you. What are you two up to today?”

“Going out,” Lizzie snapped. Don’t, she told herself. Mimi doesn’t deserve your lingering resentment over your being stuck here at Wren Haven. Why do you need to be obnoxious? Didn’t you get rid of that last year? Mimi asked a civilized question. Grow up.

Lizzie ratcheted herself down into a more cheerful note, adding, “David’s going to teach me to drive.”

“Oh. All right. You two be careful out there.”

Lizzie and David widened their eyes at each other, as if to say, Like she really had to say that.

Mimi took a step toward her bedroom, then turned back toward them. “If you go out behind building number eight, there’s a big empty parking lot for the new building that’s going up.”

Now Lizzie and David exchanged another look, one that implied, Good idea.

* * *

Dinnertime, and Mimi and Lizzie chose seats in the communal Wren Haven dining hall. They sat opposite Mac, Alice, and Annette. Herb joined next, patting Mimi’s shoulder. Mimi smiled and patted his hand before he took the seat next to her. The gestures surprised no one as romantic relationships were not unknown at Wren Haven.

After the waiter took their orders, Mimi started the dinner table conversation. “Lizzie learned to drive today.”

Lizzie hadn’t planned this conversation as an announcement, but news at a retirement community took on a different cast. She gave a sheepish smile and caught Mac’s glance across the table. No doubt he recalled The Great Golf Cart Caper the two of them had hatched last year, nearly getting Lizzie thrown out of Wren Haven for being under the age requirement. To divert attention from herself, Lizzie asked, “How’s Surprise Décor going, Annette?”

“Oh, great. Martha Clavin’s family donated her art collection this week.” Annette launched into an animated description of reorganizing Wren Haven’s furniture consignment shop into antique, traditional and modern sections, and how the shop’s proceeds to Wren Haven’s charitable Fellowship Fund had been steadily increasing. “Pretty soon I’m going to have to petition the executive director for a larger space, but I don’t know if he’ll go for it.”

Mac leaned to face Annette. “Aw, Fulbright. I know he’s not an easy character to deal with but just present him with your requirements and your projected returns, and I’m sure he’ll relent.”

Annette stopped buttering a roll, knife poised in mid-air. “Projected returns?”

“Sure. You calculate an internal rate of return, don’t you?”

Annette remained frozen, her butter knife at mid-spread. “Uh, not really.”

Mac continued, “Aw, you just tote up what it costs to run the place, what you’ve been able to generate, estimate escalating sales—”

“Mac, I have no idea of what Décor’s electricity cost is or maintenance for our square footage or anything like that.”

For a change, Lizzie felt she had something to contribute, even to those with greater experience. “Ask Albert. If he doesn’t know offhand, I’m sure he’ll be able to find out. Do you know Albert?”

Annette shook her head. “No.”

“Okay. Albert is Wren Haven’s accountant. He gives me a hand anytime I’m stuck on a problem for my business class. Monday after I get home from school, I’ll take you down to Albert’s office and introduce you.” Lizzie helped herself to a roll from the breadbasket. “I’m sure Mac can show you what to do next.” Lizzie entertained herself with a bit of mischievousness. If I can be embarrassed by attention, so can Mac. “After all, if Mac can make projections for a huge corporation, I’m sure he can calculate one for Surprise Décor.”

Annette looked to Mac, and he gave her a demurring pout and soft, “Sure.”

Chapter 4

March 28

Lizzie yawned, closed her eyes and tilted her head back on the headrest of Rosa’s sports car. What a dreary day. So what? Dreary weather to go along with another dreary school day. At least Rosa’s car had better heat and provided a more comfortable ride than if she’d been on the old school bus she’d ridden when she lived closer. She had to hand it to Mimi, figuring out that Rosa, one of Wren Haven’s security guards, could drive her to her old school after her night shift ended was a genius stroke.

“Luisa told me to say hello for her,” Rosa said.

Lizzie perked up. She’d always found Rosa’s Spanglish as much of her charm as her dark Hispanic looks and joyful laugh. “How’s Luisa?”

“Doing great. Many clients followed her to her own beauty salon, you know.”

“I’m not surprised. The cut she gave me last year before the prom convinced me she’s a natural talent.”

Rosa smiled at Lizzie. “I remember your picture, Lizzie. You looked fantastic.” With an undertone of naughtiness she added, “The dress was very sexy.”

Not knowing how to respond to a comment like that, Lizzie only replied, “Not too much.”

A minute later, Rosa changed the subject. “Last night Luisa asked me to come to her salon for a few hours after I drop you off today. Yesterday one of her beauticians quit, and now she is shorthanded. I will answer phone, make appointments, take money, smile at the clients, that sort of thing.”

“That should be interesting.”

“Change of scenery, at least.”

“Good luck with that,” Lizzie said before closing the car door. Why did entering the school’s front door feel like trudging through molasses these days? Twice last week she’d skipped lunch in favor of the quiet of the library. At least that had allowed her to get ahead on one of her term papers.

Lizzie reached for the latch of her locker door, noticing the corner of the sign Shelly had taped there over a year ago. The cleaning crew had long since torn it off but missed this piece of tape holding a corner of yellow tablet paper. The sign had read Miss Coolness and always sparked a bit of pride. Shelly, BFF since they were six years old, had used the sign to acknowledge Lizzie’s bravado in a hallway incident. However, Lizzie and Shelly had scarcely spoken during the entire school year. Why? If David were here, he’d say, Don’t know and don’t care.

The ka-chunk of the locker latch brought her attention to stuffing her coat in and heading off to homeroom.

She slid into her seat next to Jeffrey, the smartest in the class. As usual, the serious Jeffrey greeted her with a simple nod and no smile.

They had half a minute until the start of class. Lizzie leaned over to him. “Are you gearing up for the SATs?”

“Sure. I’m doing the online practice questions. They’re helpful.”

“Do you have the college guide? The one that lists all the colleges and majors and everything?”

“Oh, yeah. Been going through that.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Bookstore at the mall. There’s a lot of stuff online, too.”

“Thanks.”

Later, rather than sit in fourth period study hall, Lizzie decided to source her guidance counselor on the college selection question. There must be a formula for that, right?

“Yes?” The slightly over-the-hill woman with too much makeup addressed her.

“I’m Lizzie Olsen.”

“Oh, of course. I remember you. How are you doing, Lizzie?” she said with the pitiable head tilt and expression that mentally sent Lizzie back to the grief therapy sessions this counselor had mandated she attend last year after her parents’ funeral. Miss Coolness wouldn’t play into her today. She’d buck up.

“SATs are coming up, and I’ll need college codes to fill in. I need to decide which colleges to apply to.”

The counselor’s solicitous head nodding and voice shifting to a softer, drawn-out tone invited, “Lizzie, have a seat. Tell me what you have in mind.”

Lizzie dropped into the side chair. “I’d like to apply to Stanford, or maybe—”

“Lizzie, with all that you’ve been through, it might be a good idea to stay closer to home to start off. We have an excellent community college nearby that you could commute to.”

Lizzie just about choked. “Commute to?” Continue living at Wren Haven? The phrase, I don’t think so, popped into Lizzie’s head. “The community college? Everyone’s safety school? My grades are fine.” Where’s the self-confidence a guidance counselor should be trying to instill in me?

Lizzie glanced around the office. College catalogs covered every inch of the office’s considerable shelving, and the local community college was the best idea this counselor could come up with? If anyone should know which school would be the best match, she should, obviously. And isn’t that her actual job?

More consolatory head nodding. “Yes, Lizzie, a less stressful environment for the first couple of years. A lot of the graduates continue on to four-year schools.”

The cynical part of Lizzie’s brain kicked in with, Yeah, and a lot don’t.

“And the expense would be so much less. I recall your grandmother is retired?”

Lizzie had tried, really she had, to divest herself of her natural cynicism over the last year, but it now defied her best efforts and crept up her spine. How could this woman possibly believe it not stressful to be a sixteen-year-old living in a retirement community? All right. She’s ignorant on that score. But what’s with the reference to expenses? What does she know about my finances? Mimi specifically told me that the sale of my parents’ house will allow me to go wherever I want. College catalogs cover every inch of every shelf in this damned office. More to the point, even if I were poverty-stricken, don’t some of these colleges offer scholarships? All of them? All right. Calm down. She couldn’t know about my inheritance, either. Take a different tack. The image of retired lawyer Machete Mike, Wren Haven resident and friend, popped to mind. She cleared her throat. “I’d like a school with a well-regarded pre-law program.”

“I see. That would require fairly intense concentration, you realize.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps if you consider whether you’re ready...” She hit a few keys on her keyboard. “Lizzie, it might be very beneficial for you to have a few sessions with the school’s therapist, Dr...”

Really? The guy she made me go to last year after the accident? Hanging out with James in Wren Haven’s computer center did more for me than that guy did. I’m fine. I’ve moved on. Why can’t she?