First There Was Forever by Juliana Romano

fleece jackets and sweatpants, grabbed the extra blanket that I kept stuffed in the back of my closet, and padded silently out through the house to the beach.
    The wind was howling, raking across the darkness with ragged edges. The ocean looked like a black desert. Hailey and I lay on the blanket and looked up at the sky. The stars were bright. The waves were loud. I felt a million feelings storm through me and then a sharp emptiness. That’s how the stars always made me feel.
    “What are you thinking about?” Hailey asked.
    “Nothing,” I said. “Just the stars. They’re so crazy. They’re so far away. We’re so tiny.”
    I kind of expected Hailey to laugh at me or tease me for trying to be deep, but instead she reached for my hand in the dark and wove her fingers into mine.
    “I know,” she said. “It’s almost scary.”
    We lay listening to the waves for what seemed like forever.
    “I feel bad that my mom is alone tonight,” Hailey said after a while.
    I didn’t speak. When Hailey really opened up about stuff, I got kind of frozen, like I didn’t want to scare her and make her be all sarcastic again.
    “I know I make fun of her a lot,” she continued, “but the truth is I just feel bad for her. And I’m mad at her, too, I think. I’m mad at her for being so locked up.”
    “Locked up?” I said.
    “Not locked up,” Hailey corrected. “Buried
.
”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Like, I don’t know. I just feel like she’s buried beneath all this stuff. Like even literally. She’s literally buried in hair dye and makeup.”
    “That’s really intense,” I said.
    “I know.” Hailey’s voice was calm. “And she’s totally obsessed with online dating. She just sits there eating hummus and drinking Diet Coke and sending e-mails to gross old guys. And I just wonder—is this what it means to grow up? Is that what adulthood is? Online dating has got to be the most unromantic thing in the world. I wish I could have known her when she was happy. I feel like the person I know now isn’t even her.”
    “I remember her being different,” I said, “when we were younger.”
    “You do?” Hailey asked, and turned her head to face me, her eyes wide with surprise. Then she turned back up to the sky and said, “I don’t. I don’t remember her being any other way.”
    “I remember this one time, I think it was after the Halloween parade in third grade, she picked us up and took us to get frozen yogurt on the way home. And she was wearing this hot pink sweater with rhinestones. And I thought it was the coolest, fanciest-looking thing I had ever seen.”
    Hailey laughed. “I remember that sweater. It was pretty cool. It made her boobs look huge.”
    “They are huge.” I giggled.
    Hailey laughed a little. “Yeah, why didn’t I get those?”
    “But she wasn’t unhappy back then,” I said. “You made her laugh all the time. Like you make everybody laugh.”
    We grew quiet again, the sound of the ocean sucking up our conversation.
    “Do you ever wish your parents were different? Honestly?”
    I frowned. Did I? I guess I wished Mom and I shared more than just practical stuff.
    Before I could answer, Hailey continued. “What I mean is, your parents are basically perfect. Does that ever get annoying? Like, how can you ever fuck up when your parents are, like, so well adjusted?”
    I’d never thought about it like that.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I know this is lame, but I haven’t ever really wanted to fuck up.”
    Hailey sighed. “You are so lucky.”
    I glanced at Hailey. Being near her felt lucky, I wanted to say it. I could feel the words forming on my lips, the heat rising to my face. It was so true it almost felt embarrassing.
    “I’m hungry,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Want to pick at some leftovers?”
    As we brushed sand off each other’s bodies, I resolved never to think any more bad, ungrateful thoughts about Hailey ever again. She was the best friend