Closer to Fine

Closer to Fine

Carly Sasha Cohen

Raglan Books

Copyright © 2024 by Carly Cohen

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Published by Raglan Books, Portland, Oregon

First edition 2024

ISBN (paperback): 979-8-9876559-2-4

ISBN (ebook): 979-8-9876559-3-1

Cover illustration: Jabeen Qadri

Cover and interior design: Carly Cohen

Line editing: Melissa Ousley

Proofreading: Madison Schultz

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024917526

Contents

Dedication

Author's Note

1.Little Plastic Castle

2.Open Your Heart

3.Cool Schmool

4.Drive My Car

5.The Boy Is Mine

6.Crashing Through

7.Dig Me Out

8.Kiss from a Rose

9.Dancing in the Dark

10.Girls

11.Thank God I Found You

12.Divine Hammer

13.None of Your Business

14.The Power of Love

15.Girl Germs

16.Explain It to Me

17.I’m Your Baby Tonight

18.Babydoll

19.I Don’t Want to Wait

20.Whatta Man

21.Where the Girls Are

22.Lovely Ladies

23.Lovefool

24.Kiss My Ass Goodbye

25.As Cool as I Am

26.Flower

27.More Than Words

28.Volcano Girls

29.Hold On

30.Silent All These Years

31.Get Back

32.Take It Off

33.Vogue

34.You Oughta Know

35.Closer to Fine

Acknowledgements

To the girls in the back, in the front, and everywhere in between.

Author's Note

This story includes a non-graphic scene of an unwanted sexual advance as well as casual homophobia.

1

Little Plastic Castle

1994 Opal, Washington

There wasn’t enough makeup in the world to hide the heartbreak on Alexis Sinclair’s face. She sat in her bedroom and stared at the black Estee Lauder cosmetics bag on her vanity, wondering why she’d even bothered covering up her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She’d plastered her face in ivory foundation, slathered her eyelids with Arctic Zinc eye shadow, and finished the look off with a lipstick called Envious. She’d laughed at the names when the woman at the makeup counter had told them to her. Her mom had taken her to the mall that weekend, gotten her a makeover, and purchased all the cosmetics as a back-to-school gift. It was a nice mother-daughter outing, a fall tradition that she looked forward to every year. But when she returned home, there was a letter in the mail for her. A letter that shattered her. Now fall was tainted before it had started.

She thought of Denise for the millionth time that morning. Truthfully, she never stopped thinking about Denise. Denise was the one who told her she didn’t need to wear makeup, that she was beautiful without it. Alexis’s eyes welled at the thought. Denise hadn’t worn makeup. But her olive skin was clear, her brown eyes large without the needed emphasis of eyeliner. Alexis’s tears slid down her cheeks in inky-mascara streaks.

How was she supposed to go to school like this? Starting a new school year was supposed to be exciting, but all Alexis felt was pain.

She had read the letter countless times, but still couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. Denise and Alexis had agreed when they left music camp that the three hours between their homes wasn’t enough of a reason to end their fledgling relationship. They agreed to try long distance. And for two weeks they did. They talked on the phone. They wrote letters. Alexis thought the letters were romantic. She didn’t expect the last one to be a breakup letter.

She sat in front of her vanity, reading the letter one more time.

I can’t do this to us. We both know it’s not going to work out in the long run, and I want to cherish the memories that we made in camp.

Denise’s handwriting was simple. Not overly girly but not chicken scratch. Alexis searched for a hint in the words. Something to explain what changed Denise’s mind. Changed her heart. They never fought. They made each other laugh. Denise even told her she was a fantastic kisser.

Before the letter, they had decided to meet halfway between their homes in the coming weeks. They had plans. A future. What had Alexis done to cause Denise to end something so good?

Alexis snatched up a white cotton ball and doused it with liquid from one of the various bottles in front of her, then vigorously wiped the makeup remover over her face. She opened her eyes, relieved that they weren’t stinging, and saw the bare face in the mirror, the face that Denise had liked. Her eyes were still red, and her blonde, curly hair streamed wildly from her head. By displaying her pain instead of covering it up, she looked more like herself. There was a rawness in the girl in the mirror, and she didn’t want to hide it. She noticed a red zit on her chin that she hadn’t seen before and reached back for the concealer before pulling her hand back.

There was a knock on her door.

Alexis, honey, Lance is waiting! her mother yelled over the music Alexis had blasting.

One minute, she replied, folding up the letter and putting it in her backpack.

Alexis walked across the room to her boom box. Pearl Jam filled her room with electric guitar chords as Eddie Vedder sang to her about finding a better man. Alexis laughed quietly to herself as she stopped the CD. If Eddie only knew.

The bedroom door swung open, and Elizabeth Sinclair stepped into the doorway.

Jeez, Mom, I said I needed a minute, Alexis said, looking at her mom.

Mrs. Sinclair was small, but she made up for her size by dressing fashionably loud, with super high heels and a matching lemon-colored skirt and blazer. Her frizzy ’80s hairstyle kept her firmly in the previous decade, but she always looked like she was ready for a day in the office—which made no sense because she had no office. Even without a job, Mrs. Sinclair made it perfectly clear that she had plenty to do while Alexis was at school and Dad was at work. There were always gatherings to plan for, luncheons to hold, and Dad’s clients to entertain.

Honey, it’s the first day, you don’t want to be late. Mrs. Sinclair looked Alexis up and down and confusion clouded her face. What are you wearing?

Alexis looked down at her baggy overalls and cropped T-shirt. It was a more casual look than her normal pearls and polo shirts. But Denise had worn overalls and Alexis liked the look. Meeting Denise, and seeing how comfortable she had been in her own skin, made Alexis feel at ease. She had started emulating Denise at camp. Borrowing her clothes. Skipping her morning mascara. Alexis was sick of hiding behind preppy clothes and pearl earrings. She wasn’t ready to be her complete self at school, but she was ready to take a small step. Today’s outfit was important. It would set the tone for the rest of the year.

You’ve always told me that clothing is how women express themselves. I want to express that I like being comfortable, Alexis responded.

What about the makeup I got you?

She sensed the disappointment in her mom’s voice and her shoulders sagged with a tinge of regret. She hated letting her down. They’d had such a fun time at the mall a few days ago picking out all the colors. She looked at it all, sitting on her vanity. She didn’t want to start crying again. She wasn’t sure why the makeup itself would cause her to cry, but in the last twenty-four hours everything seemed to set her off, so why not eye shadow?

I . . . don’t want to wear it today. Sorry, Mom.

Well, okay. Hurry up then, let’s get you your lunch and out the door. Lance is waiting. Her mother looked at her curiously but said nothing else before leaving the bedroom.

Alexis got up from her vanity and grabbed her backpack. She spotted her guitar in its case leaning next to her closet. Denise had said she looked beautiful when she played, serene, like a goddess with her hair falling like a curtain over her face. Alexis picked up the guitar case and shoved it far back in her closet.

Then she went downstairs and put her backpack on a kitchen chair and grabbed a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom to stick in her backpack. She had already used all of the tissues and wanted to be prepared if—when—another crying attack happened. She looked in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were still red. Had her mom noticed? What if Brooke noticed when she got to school? She hadn’t told Brooke anything about meeting Denise at camp, and Brooke was her best friend. She wasn’t hiding the relationship, necessarily. She was waiting for the right time. If there was a right time to tell your best friend of ten years that you liked kissing girls. She couldn’t deal with that right now, at least. Not in this state. Alexis splashed her face with water from the bathroom sink and walked back into the kitchen.

Her mom was standing at the kitchen table examining a piece of paper in her trembling hands. She was holding the letter. Denise’s letter. Alexis froze.

How much had she read? It didn’t matter. The letter started with Alexis, my love. She had read enough to know something. But unless she got to the end—

Who is Denise?

Alexis unfroze enough for her heart to sink. And then the panic set in. Mom! That’s my stuff. Why were you going through my backpack?

I—I was putting your lunch in. This fell out. I—didn’t mean to—I glanced—who is Denise? Her mom looked confused. Shocked. Her hands were still shaking.

None of your business!

Alexis snatched the letter. Mrs. Sinclair stepped back and squinted at Alexis as if trying to place her face.

I don’t understand, Alexis. Who is this girl? Why is she writing you? Is she a friend from camp?

She’s . . . no one, Alexis said, and the truth behind the words hurt. She wasn’t anyone anymore, was she? Alexis wanted to run upstairs and never leave her room. She wanted to run away. She wanted to do something—anything—but have this conversation.

Then something changed in Mrs. Sinclair’s face. A look of understanding. Recognition. And fear. How long has this been going on? How did this happen to you? What did I do wrong? Mrs. Sinclair’s questions came fast, too fast for a response, almost as if she were talking to herself. My own daughter?

Alexis wanted to yell, but couldn’t. Instead, she grabbed her backpack and ran out of the house, tears blurring her vision as she walked toward the Town Car that would take her to school. Her chest heaved. Alexis wasn’t sure she could take any more heartbreak today. She wiped her eyes before Lance could see and ask her what was wrong. She wouldn’t know where to start. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. As she approached the Town Car, she was officially ready to leave summer behind.

This had been the summer of firsts. First love. First kisses. Well, first real kisses that counted—she’d felt nothing during that one spin the bottle game where she kissed Bobby Hastings in eighth grade. This summer was real. Real kisses. Real love. But all of that had disappeared in the last twenty-four hours. Now summer was over, and she had lost her first love and her mother in the span of a single day.

2

Open Your Heart

On her first day as a junior at Opal High School, Brooke Lambert had one goal. She was going to get a boyfriend. Not any boyfriend. This was the year that Tyler Lopez was going to notice her.

Okay, it probably wasn’t going to happen on day one, but hopefully by the time Christmas break rolled around she wouldn’t be singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. Because she would have him.

As she sat with Alexis at their usual table in the cafeteria, Brooke glowed. She had hope. And a plan to back it up.

I was thinking after school we could cruise the mall, Brooke said to Alexis, trying to hide her excitement—she knew Alexis would make fun of her if she knew Brooke had renewed her vow to get Tyler. She was definitely not telling Alexis she had even named her plan. Year of the Tyler. She liked it because she was born in a Year of the Tiger, according to the Chinese zodiac. She almost named her plan Eye of the Tyler, but she didn’t want to get that song stuck in her head forever. Though it was a good anthem to psych her up while getting ready for school this morning.

But Brooke couldn’t get Alexis’s attention. Alexis still had her headphones on and was staring blankly into the great expanse of the school cafeteria. Before Alexis left for camp at the beginning of summer, she had made it clear to Brooke that she didn’t want to hear about Tyler if Brooke wasn’t going to do anything about her crush. This bossiness was nothing new in their friendship. Alexis was a take-charge kind of person. But Brooke had been stunned when Alexis had told her to shit or get off the pot. It wasn’t like Alexis ever went on dates, so who was she to butt into Brooke’s love life?

Alexis had changed since she got back from camp. She was quieter. More brooding, less bossy. And Brooke was positive she’d never seen Alexis wear overalls before. The truth was, Alexis had been back from camp for two weeks and Brooke had barely talked to her. Their phone conversations were short, as if Alexis didn’t want to tell her anything about the fancy music camp she went to. The two usually spent summers together. When they were younger, they went to day camps and the library for summer reading; in junior high, it was acting camp during the day followed by the public pool. But now, Alexis went to a music camp Brooke’s family couldn’t afford—and Brooke was partly relieved. She was glad when her mom had stopped forcing piano lessons on her, so the idea of music camp didn’t thrill her. Instead, Brooke spent the summer babysitting. She had wanted to help her dad at the garage, but he said he had too many customers to spend time training her as an apprentice. Though he did let her help out with a few oil changes, which was cool.

Brooke wasn’t sure if this new, quieter Alexis meant that her opinion of Tyler had changed too. Maybe she wouldn’t be as argumentative over Brooke’s crush, but Brooke didn’t want to risk finding out. She promised herself that she wouldn’t mention Tyler to her best friend. It was challenging, but Brooke liked challenges. Which was probably why Tyler was appealing in the first place.

Hey, Al, I’m talking here! Brooke waved her hands in front of Alexis’s face. Another reason Brooke needed a boyfriend. Then she’d have someone to talk to while Alexis scowled silently at their lunch table.

Sorry, sorry, Alexis said as she slid her headphones off her ears and looked up. What’s up?

Do you want to go to the West Hills Mall after school? I’ve been thinking about what you said, about me, um, getting off the toilet. I think you’re right, it’s time for me to find some fresh meat. Brooke tucked a long strand of her black hair behind her ear and looked eagerly at Alexis. Lying was easier than she thought it would be. The Guitar Center in the mall opened. Maybe you need some strings or picks or something? Alexis didn’t need to know she’d overheard Tyler talking about hitting up the Guitar Center after school.

I don’t play guitar anymore, Alexis said in a voice that sounded like she expected Brooke to already know this.

You don’t play anymore? But you went to music camp. Where you learned how to play guitar . . . Brooke’s voice trailed off. Alexis hadn’t told Brooke anything about camp, and every time she asked, her friend clammed up or changed the subject. I’ll buy you an Auntie Anne’s pretzel if you go with me, Brooke said, trying not to sound too desperate.

Fine, Alexis conceded, though she still sounded more detached than usual. But . . . you have to go to the High Dive show with me on Saturday.

Alexis was always sneaking out and going to open mic shows at the dive bar near the Opal College campus. They never carded, and Brooke knew Alexis liked feeling like she was slumming, rebelling from her rich parents.

Ugh. That place smells like smoke, Brooke whined, but quickly remembered what was at stake. "I mean, sure, I’ll go to the stupid High Dive with you. But you’ll have to get Lance to drive us. The tape deck in my Sentra is busted, and my dad’s fixing it