The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love

“No.” Maya sits down on the floor, shaking her head. “I thought it’d be fun if tonight we did without any extra electricity. You know, no lights, no TV, no stereo…” She can only hope that they can all see her warm, encouraging smile. “And no movies.”

“You thought it’d be fun?” Shayla’s frown defies the flickering shadows. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I want us to really consider the planet – just for one night. Earth Day’s coming and—”

“For Pete’s sake,” groans Brion. “What is this, Revenge of the Geeks? Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“Maya,” says Shayla, “a nice surprise is when someone buys you a present, not when someone invites you over to sit in a dark room doing nothing all night.”

Brion wants to know where the napkins are. “You can’t really eat chicken nuggets without napkins, you know.”

Maya – who, of course, also isn’t using single-use paper products tonight – tosses him the dishtowel she’s decided to use instead.

“Are you saying we’re not watching movies?” Shelby picks up a “chicken” nugget. “I mean, no napkins is one thing, but no movies? We always watch movies. What are we supposed to do if we don’t watch movies?”

Slowly and unsurely, Alice comes in with the rest of the snacks. “We’re going to play games,” she says with all the enthusiasm of someone announcing that it’s time to count the paperclips in that five-gallon jar. Realizing that her tone doesn’t sound quite as supportive or enthusiastic as she intended, she adds, “Or just talk.”

“But we talk all the time at school,” protests Jason.

“Games?” Finn sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. “Assuming that you don’t mean night basketball, what kind of games do you have in mind?”

“There are tons of games we can play,” says Maya. “Charades… Pictionary… Chickenfoot…”

“Don’t we have to be able to see to play games?” asks Mallory.

“These nachos aren’t bad,” says Brion. “What’s the cheese? That’s not that stuff in the jar, is it?”

“No,” says Maya.

Jason bites into a nacho. “Hey, this is pretty good. What is the cheese? Jack?”

Alice stuffs some chips into her mouth.

“It’s kind of like cheddar,” says Maya.

Mallory sniffs at a nacho, taking a tentative nibble. “It doesn’t smell like cheddar.”

“I said kind of.” Maya pours herself some soda.

“Kind of how?” asks Shelby.

Maya raises her glass to her lips. “Kind of like vegan cheddar.”

Everyone looks at Maya in the dim, shadowy light.

“Vegan?” repeats Mallory. “You mean like it’s not really cheese? What’s it made from? Bean sprouts?”

“Ew…” Brion spits his sixth nacho into the dishtowel. “I knew it tasted funny.”

“And what about this?” Shelby is looking at his nugget as if it’s about to bite him. “Has this ever had a beak?”

Maya shakes her head.

“And the dip?” asks Finn. “Is that sour cream?”

“The dip’s vegan, too,” admits Maya. “I told you, it’s Be Kind to the Planet Night. Vegan is much better for the planet than dairy or meat because—”

“So what is in this stuff?” Brion looks like he still wants to spit.

“Tofu.”

“Brother, it’s going to be a really long night,” says Shelby.

As it turns out, the night isn’t long at all. The candlelight proves to be inadequate for playing either Monopoly or Pictionary, so because everyone seems to feel that they need the stimulus of a movie they’ve seen before to have anything to talk about, they end up playing charades. After only one round the chip bowls are empty – though the abandoned nachos have solidified and the nuggets are cold – and Maya goes off to refill them. When she finally comes back, having unearthed a jar of salsa as well, the light in the entrance hall is on and the others are all getting ready to leave.

“Where are you guys going?” Maya holds out the jar of salsa like an offering. “Look, I found this.”

“We’re going over to my house,” says Shayla. “You know, where we can actually see each other and can turn on the TV?”

Maya finally notices that Alice has also put on her coat. “You too?”

“I’m really sorry, Maya,” says Alice, looking at the wax spill on the carpet. “But if I don’t go with them, I won’t get a ride, either. And my mother sai—”

“Yeah, right.” Maya sighs. “You have to get home.” She turns to Shayla. “I don’t get it. I thought you said that the candles were cool. You know, beat. Way out, man.”

“They are. It’s very atmospheric.” Shayla shrugs. “But not for hours. And only if you’re listening to music or somebody reading poetry or something like that.”

“Not for more than ten or fifteen minutes, if you want to know what I think.” Jason gives Maya a wink. “Unless you’re making out. That’d be different.”

“I think ten or fifteen minutes is my limit, too,” agrees Brion. “This sitting around in the dark is pretty dead. Especially when you can’t see what you’re eating.”

“In this case, that’s probably an advantage,” says Finn.

Maya, however, is still having trouble taking in what’s happening.

“But— But I thought we were having fun. We were all laughing. We were having a good time.” No one responds. Maya looks from one face to another but it is difficult to tell whether the blank expressions are due to lack of interest or poor lighting. “Weren’t we having fun?”

“Yeah, sure we were,” says Jason. “But, you know, Mr Tovar’s giving me a ride.”

Followed by Finn saying, “And I really have to get something to eat. Something real.” Finn’s face is screwed up as though what he’s eaten is something rotten. “I’ve got this yucky taste in my mouth.”

“But I have plenty of chips.” Maya waves the jar of salsa. “And this. Look! Regular salsa.” She doesn’t mention that, of course, it’s vegan.

“You know we love you, Maya,” says Mallory, “but you’re really starting to wander off the road.”

“You’ve just gone so bizarro,” chimes in Shayla. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything…” Maya can tell from the way eyes are shifting that what Shayla means is that she wasn’t going to say anything to her – she’s already told everyone else. “But my mother said she saw you in Foodarama dressed as a plastic bag.”

“I wasn’t dressed as a plastic bag,” explains Maya. “I represented the billions of bags and bottles that are thrown into landfill every year. I—”

Shayla shakes her head, sadly. “You used to be so cool…”

“The curse of Clemens,” says Finn.

“Or someone,” mutters Jason.

You can lead your friends to tofu, but you can’t make them eat, thinks Maya as she watches them drive away. She feels more deflated than angry. More disappointed than hurt. Though, really, there is no one to blame but herself. Shayla was right. She should have told them what she’d planned. But, of course, she didn’t do that because she knew if she did that they wouldn’t have come.

Maya sits in the living room, watching the shadows move across the room as if they’re dancing. Maya is rarely completely alone, without the TV on or music playing, or the computer calling to her from its corner in her room. But tonight she is alone, and undistracted – the house is so silent…

Moonlight spills across the wooden floor. Maya’s never seen moonlight in the house before. Getting to her feet, she leaves the living room and steps out on the front porch. It’s a clear, cold night, the moon white bright. She walks out on the lawn, standing in the moonshine, looking up at the spangled sky.

Maya had a hard time with her eighth grade project on what Clifton Springs was like before white people arrived. She could imagine the woods and the animals because she’s seen them in wildlife programmes. She drew some pretty good pictures of otters, skunk, beaver, deer, bears and possum, and even one of the river when it was full of salmon rather than beer and soda cans. But she had a lot of trouble with the Lenni Lenape themselves. She