Middletown, p.1
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A L S O B Y S A R A H M O O N
Novel:
Sparrow
Compilation (co-editor with James Lecesne):
The Letter Q: Queer Writers’ Notes to their Younger Selves
P R A I S E F O R s a r a h m o o n
For SPARROW
“Both inspiring and useful for anyone who’s ever felt like they don’t belong.” — Kirkus
“A beautiful book—a song that will make your spirit soar and your heart love.” — Francisco X. Stork, award-winning author of The Memory of Light
For THE LETTER Q:
Queer Writers’ Notes to their Younger Selves
“A thoughtful, moving, and humorous collection.” — Publisher’s Weekly
“With its repeated exhortations to relax more and worry less, this book might be a life-saver for some—and could function as an author list, as well, for teens wanting to read more about People Like Us.” — The Horn Book
This is an Arthur A. Levine book
Published by Levine Querido
www.levinequerido.com • info@levinequerido.com
Levine Querido is distributed by Chronicle Books LLC.
Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Moon ∙ All rights reserved
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020937504
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-64614-042-8
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64614-107-4
Published April 2021
For my sister, Caitlin,
the banana to my peanut butter.
C O N T E N T S
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
One Year Later
Acknowledgments
Some Notes on This Book’s Production
E L I W O K E U P when Anna’s hot breath on her back suddenly stopped. She knew she was too big to be the little spoon, too old to share a bed with her sister, but on nights when Mom was out—and that was most nights lately—their small apartment felt too big and they curled up the same way that they had since Eli could remember, her chubby body curled tight, facing the wall, Anna’s tall skinniness tracing a curve behind her. Eli heard Anna sigh; through her closed lids she could see the red and blue flashing lights dancing on the walls through the window.
“Damn it,” Anna said as she slipped out of bed and threw on her black jeans and a tank top. One and a half minutes until the knock on the door. Eli’s job was always the same. Stall. She wrapped a blanket around herself, grabbed a teddy bear from under her bed. Her job was to look young, sweet, and sleepy. She ran a hand through her short blond hair, hoping for some extra adorable points for bedhead. Anna’s job was the opposite. She was applying mascara with one hand while tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. And there was the knock. Anna threw Eli a “one minute” sign from the bathroom. She finished her lip gloss and readjusted her boobs in the mirror. Another knock, and this time Anna nodded.
Eli’s voice came out just right, about an octave higher and three shades more innocent. “Hello?”
“Police. Open the door, please.”
“Yes, officer?” Eli said, going up to a squeak at the end of the word, faking a yawn as she opened the door. “Oh, hi Officer Sanders.” Officer Sanders worked security at big events at the high school. Well, what were big events in Middletown, anyway.
“Hi Eli.”
“Good evening, officer.” Anna dropped the sexy act when she realized it was Officer Sanders. “Oh, hi. Eli, go back to bed.”
Eli got back in bed, staring out the window at the lights shining into the room from the cop car below. The bed seemed to have gone cold just in the few minutes they’d been up. Normally, she listened to the sounds of Anna’s best flirting, waiting to hear the sound of the fridge opening, a beer can popping. But Officer Sanders had known them both since they were each in first grade, had known Mom since she was in high school. They’d even gone on a few dates back in the day. This wasn’t the first time he’d come to the house to tell them that Mom messed up, again. Hopefully he’d take pity on them, not call Social Services until morning (or better yet, not at all). A minute more of Anna’s high voice and his low one, and then the door closed. Eli listened to the heavy boots clomping down the stairs.
“She’s not coming home tonight,” Anna said, standing in the doorway, arms hooked around her back as she took off the push-up bra and slid back into pajama pants.
Anna sat on the bed, her legs resting on either side of Eli, her hands pushing down just a little hard on Eli’s head. They watched the red and blue lights fade as the officer drove off. “Drunk tank?” asked Eli.
“Yeah, till morning.”
“Then what?”
“Then, we’ll see.”
“Is he calling Social Services?”
“He didn’t say. Let’s hope no news is good news for now.”
I N T H E M O R N I N G , Anna seemed back to her regular seventeen-year-old self. Her black hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing a black tank top, a black hoodie zipped up to right under her boobs, black jeans, and black boots. She’d been dressing like this since September, a radical transformation from the French-braided, floral-printed soccer princess she’d been until then. Eli still missed that old soccer-princess-Anna from time to time. She was nicer, less grumpy, fought less with Mom, and she liked to hang out with Eli, even though Eli was just her baby sister.
All of that changed a few months ago, and since then, even when Anna made an effort to come home and hang out with Eli, it was like there was a boulder sitting between them that had never been there before. Eli tried not to think that it was anything she’d done—that maybe they’d just gotten too different. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk or they fought all the time; it was just that something had changed and neither of them could figure out how to change it back.
Anna shooed Eli out of the bathroom as she traced black eyeliner into the corners of her eyelids. Eli pulled on the same jeans from the last three days and her favorite red striped shirt. She added her gray hoodie and a baseball hat.
“You’re not going to be able to hide your boobs forever, you know,” said Anna, watching her from the bathroom.
“Sorry I don’t show them off for the whole school every day, or for Jaaaaaason, like some people.”
“Shut up, PB.”
“Seriously, you’ve been wearing boobalicious tank tops every day for two weeks, and jeans that you practically have to glue on to your body. Has he even talked to you yet?”
“What do you know? Nothing, that’s what. In love with your best friend.”
“At least she knows I’m alive.”
“She likes boys, kid. Sorry.”
“How would you know? Are you one?”
“You’re such a child,” Anna said, flicking off the light in the bedroom on her way out. “By the way, if you really want her to notice you, you might consider showering more than every three days, stinker.”
“Whatever,” said Eli to no one in the dark bedroom.
In the kitchen, Eli washed dishes as Anna got out bowls for cereal.
“Of-freaking-course. No milk,” Anna said, slamming the door to the fridge.
“I’ll just eat mine dry.”
“That’s so gross.” Anna poured some water from the tap into her bowl.
“That’s grosser.”
They sat at the kitchen table and chewed.
“When do you think they’ll let her out?” asked Eli, throwing a Mini-Wheat into her mouth.
“I don’t know,” said Anna. “Or care.”
“I do,” Eli said. “I want to know she’s okay.”
“Mom’s fine. Mom’s hungover. Mom’ll sleep it off and grab an egg-and-cheese, come home, sleep some more, and then Mom’ll do it again tonight. Honestly, you shouldn’t worry about her. It’s not like she’s worried about us.”
Eli looked down and away. She knew Anna liked to think of herself as Eli’s protector, but Anna had a way of hurting her like hardly anyone else could.
“Come on, kid. We’re going to be late,” Anna said, flipping Eli’s baseball cap off her head and ruffling her hair. Apology not accepted, Eli thought.
Hoover Junior High and Middletown High School were a half mile and a world apart. The girls took the bus together. Eli got off first, and Anna headed up the hill to the high school, where, Eli’d been told, everything would be better. This seemed unlikely.
Eli waited outside for Javi and Meena. It was always the kids who lived closest, the ones in the fancy Laurel Crest neighborhood just down the street, who got to school last. And then teachers wanted to yell at Eli for arriving five minutes late when it was the bus’s fault, not hers. But today it wasn’t going to be the bus’s fault; it was going to be Javi’s and Meena’s. If they didn’t hurry up, she’d be late for first-period English and Ms. Russo would say, “Third time this month, Eliza,” and give her d etention, because that was just how Ms. Russo was. But if she went in without them, she’d have to deal with Kevin. He would be waiting where he was always waiting; she could see his baseball cap through the window in the door. If she was alone, he’d follow her down the hall saying, “Hi boy, good morning boy, how are you boy,” and try to push her into the boys’ bathroom. If she was with Javi and Meena, they’d all flip him off together and saunter off to class. It was amazing what being best friends with the prettiest girl in the eighth grade could do. And Meena was just that—everyone knew it but her.
Everyone also knew Javi was gay, and not just that he was gay, but that he was a gay, Puerto Rican, chubby classics nerd with the right answers and thick glasses and a love of the ablative. In any other school he’d be a walking target, more so even than Eli. But here, he was also the principal’s son, and not even Kevin was stupid enough to mess with him. Eli liked Principal Calderón and wished that the principal’s powers of protection applied to her too. They gave Javi a shine of confidence that Eli hoped would one day rub off on her.
Eli nervously eyed her phone: exactly one minute until the late bell. She weighed her choices—Kevin and his stupid hat and the boys’ bathroom, or waiting for these two fools to finally show up and probably getting detention. Either way, she’d be late, and if she could avoid Kevin, detention would be worth it. Plus, she’d probably have it with Javi and Meena anyway. She opened their group text.
Where are you guys? Russo’s gonna kill me.
As she pressed send, Javi’s hand appeared on her shoulder. “Sorry, E, our diva slept in. I had to go in and wake her myself, okurrrr?” Ever since the new season started, Javi talked like he was in the workroom of RuPaul’s Drag Race, despite the fact that he knew a total of zero other gay people (besides Eli) and that the closest thing to a drag queen he’d ever seen in person was a bunch of bagpipers in their kilts at the Memorial Day Parade.
“Some of us need our beauty rest, Javi. We can’t all wake up like Beyoncé.”
Javi pushed the door open and walked through, the hallway his personal catwalk. Meena went next in her everyday jeans and T-shirt that, on her, looked somehow elegant, effortless, and cool. Eli followed behind. She could be their third wheel, but Meena would say, “No way; we’re a triangle, that’s all,” and Javi would say, “Yeah, a pink one,” and Meena and Eli would laugh and roll their eyes and shout, “That’s so gay!” at him until they were all laughing and had no idea why. They never made Eli feel like their less-cool, less-popular counterpart, though she knew that’s exactly what she was. On bad days, Eli wondered why they hung out with her anyway.
Eli’s theory was that all middle schools are a special kind of punishment, a place to jail kids while they go through puberty. Hoover was particularly cruel, housing only seventh and eighth graders—a deserted island keeping pubescent kids trapped away from the precious, innocent sixth graders and from the freedoms of high school. Meena and Javi went up to sixth grade at Country Independent before their parents sent them to “meet real people” at Hoover. Eli wasn’t one of the real people they met until this time last year, as if by magic, in health class on a Friday, last period. Mr. Johnson was the basketball coach/health teacher, and he was much more comfortable on the court than in the classroom. They were playing Puberty Jeopardy, which is a terrible idea no matter what, but an even worse one with seventh graders on a Friday. When he read the question, “The sac of skin that protects the testicles and regulates their temperature,” Kevin said, “Uh, what is your mom?” When Eli muttered, “No, Kevin, what is your mom,” Javi looked over at her with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Everything went predictably to hell, and Mr. Johnson yelled, cajoled, and finally gave up, sat down, and read the paper.
“You’re funny,” said Javi.
“I mean, I can do better than a ‘your mom’ joke, but since Kevin can’t, I figured I should play fair.”
“He’d be diabolical if he wasn’t so dumb.”
“I think he may be both.”
“True.”
“I’m Eli.”
“Javier. My friends call me Javi, and you’re one of them now. Cute, funny homosexuals are my cup of tea. I’m not making any assumptions, of course.”
Eli laughed. “No, none at all.”
“Meena.” Javi poked the girl sitting next to him. “This is our new friend Eli. Eli, this is Meena, the only heterosexual in this godforsaken place worth knowing.”
“I’m flattered,” said Meena. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope to live up to the title of worthy heterosexual friend for you as well.” It was immediate with Meena, like something out of a movie. Even in that horrible, smelly health class, Meena’s smile was all the things in all the pop songs—a ray of sunshine, a shot to her heart, a flip in her stomach. The fluorescent lights seemed to make a halo over her long, dark hair. The three of them started talking that afternoon and basically hadn’t stopped since. That was one year ago. This morning was just one of the many in the last year during which Eli had waited for Javi and Meena to stroll to school arm-in-arm, scooping her up on the way. Every single detention had been worth it, though Eli made sure to keep it just under the number that required a parent-teacher conference. She didn’t want Mom to come to school.
In History, Eli’s stomach started to rumble. One look in her bag made her smile. Anna might be all goth and boobs lately, but that didn’t stop her sister from throwing some Oreos into Eli’s backpack. She snuck one quietly when Mr. Simmons had his back turned. Eli swore she heard someone oink at her. It was quiet enough to be anonymous, loud enough to make Spencer and Jack laugh and make Eli blush. She wished that she could stop blushing forever. If she had one superpower, it’d be utter control of every physical manifestation of her emotions. No more sweating when she was nervous, blushing when she was embarrassed, or crying when she was angry.
Spencer’s laugh made Mr. Simmons turn around. “Really, guys? I can’t even write on the board without antics? Really?”
The Oreo had only made Eli’s stomach louder, hungry for more. It was going to be a long day until lunch.
That afternoon, after the bell rang at the end of last period, Javi, Meena, and Eli piled into their favorite spot, the faculty bathroom on the third floor. It was supposed to be locked to students, and you were supposed to get a special key from the nurse if you needed it, but Javi had taped the lock open months ago, and they’d been gathering there ever since. Javi was going off (and off and off) about his mother’s new boyfriend, who he wasn’t supposed to talk about at school.
“What did Doofus do now?” Eli asked as she took her spot by the hand dryer.
“Well, first of all, he keeps calling me ‘Princess,’ which is cute when you guys do it, but you can tell he’s just doing it to mess with me. Never in front of my mom, of course. She just thinks I’m trying to break them up. Which, obvi, would be great, but I only feel that way because he’s a jerk. I don’t have to make up his jerkishness—there’s plenty to go around.”
“It’s your castle. You should tell him to call you ‘Queen.’”
“I really should.”
“Let’s go, late people,” nudged Meena, jumping off the sink.
Russo had given Eli detention; Javi and Meena had gotten it too. Eli didn’t care; in some way, walking down the hall together to detention was the best part of her day. Mrs. Gibbons held her head in one hand and a red pen in the other, shaking her head in disbelief—either over the amount of papers she had to correct or the number of wrong answers her students were giving. She didn’t even look up from her pile of worksheets when Meena asked Eli if she wanted to come over for dinner. Dinner at Meena’s house was always a good idea: her mom tied aprons around both of their waists and put them to work. Eli chopped and Meena stirred and there was classical music in the background, the sounds of her little brother and sister running around in the yard floating through the windows. Her dad came by and kissed Meena’s cheek, asked how her day was. “Hey sport,” he always said to Eli, awkward but kind. It was like having dinner with a Disney family.
On days like today, though, Mom usually came in tired and worried, covering it all with a big smile and pizza. “Oh my girls,” she’d say. “I love you both so much. My girls, my girls.” Anna would probably roll her eyes and storm into her bedroom, the way she’d taken to doing lately, but Eli would sit on the couch with Mom, watching TV with her until Mom fell asleep and Eli shook her to go to bed. Her phone would vibrate with a text while she was sitting on the couch. It would be Anna texting from her room.
