FORMYFAMILYCONTENTS
TITLEPAGE
DEDICATION
CHAPTERONE
CHAPTERTWO
CHAPTERTHREE
CHAPTERFOUR
CHAPTERFIVE
CHAPTERSIX
CHAPTERSEVEN
CHAPTEREIGHT
CHAPTERNINE
CHAPTERTEN
CHAPTERELEVEN
CHAPTERTWELVE
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
CHAPTERNINETEEN
CHAPTERTWENTY
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
ALSOBYANNLIANG
THISTIMEIT’SREALPREVIEW
COPYRIGHTIt’sanhonortobewaitingoutsidetheschoolgatesinthewintercold.
ThisiswhatI’vebeentellingmyselfforthepasthourasIshiverinmyironedblazerandwatchmyfingernailsturnaconcerningshadeofpurple.It’sanimmensehonor.Aprivilege.Ajoy.It’sexactlywhatIenvisionedwhenMs.Hedge,theyearlevelcoordinator,calledformeinthemiddleofmymathhonorsclassyesterdayandaskedthatIshowafewvisitingparentsaroundtheschool.
“Itrustthatyou’retherightpersontodoit,”she’dsaidwithawidesmile,hergnarledhandsfoldedneatlyacrossherdesk.“Asschoolcaptain,youcantellthemabouthowmuchWoodvaleAcademycaresforitsstudents,andhowwellwe’vesetyouupforsuccess.Feelfreetoalsomentionalltheextracurricularsyou’reinvolvedinandyourmanyachievements—likehowyourecentlycameinfirstinthetrack-and-fieldregionalfinals.Theparentswilllovethat.”
I’dsmiledbackatherandnoddedalongwithsomuchfakeenthusiasmIgavemyselfaneckcramp.
MyneckisstillstiffasIstraightenthebadgespinnedtomyfrontpocket,stampingmyfeethardtowardoffwhatfeelslikeimminentfrostbite.Mybestfriend,AbigailOng,alwaysjokesthatIcollectbadgeslikeamagpie.She’snotwrong,exactly,butI’mnotjustadmiringhowthegoldletteringforschoolcaptaincatchesthepalemorninglight.It’salsoamatterofsymbolism.EverysinglebadgeIownisproofofsomething:thatIhaveperfectgrades,thatI’mtheMVPofeverysportsteamI’mon,thatI’manactivememberoftheschoolcommunity,thatIhelpoutatthelocallibrary.ThatI’msmartandsuccessfulandhaveagoodfutureaheadofme—
Footstepscrunchonthedrygrass.
Ijerkmyheadupandsquintintothedistance.It’ssoearlythattheparkinglotisstillempty,saveforarustedbrownToyotathat’sprobablybeentheresincebeforetheschoolwasbuilt.Alltheredbrickbuildingsoncampusarequiet,thewindowsclosed,thecloudsrisingoverthebaretreespaintedasoftwatercolorpink.
Nosignofanylost-lookingparents.
Instead,aterriblyfamiliarfacecomesintoview,andoutofhabit,allthemusclesinmybodytense.Blackeyes,sharpangles,asmilelikeablade.Thatsingle,ridiculousstrandofdarkhairfallingoverhisforehead.Theschoolblazerdrapedaroundhisshoulderslikehe’sposingforahigh-fashionmagazine.
JuliusGong.
Mycocaptain,andthemostprominentsourceofpaininmylife.
Atthemeresightofhim,Iexperiencearushofloathingsopureandvisceralitfeelsakintowonder.It’shardtobelievethatsomeonewithsuchanawfulpersonalitycouldhavesuchpleasinglooks—orthatsomeonewithsuchpleasinglookscouldhavesuchanawfulpersonality.Theequivalentofopeningupagiftboxwithgorgeoussilkribbonsandconfettiandfoilpackagingandfindinginsideitapoisonoussnake.
Thesnakeinquestionstopsthreesolidfeetawayfromme.Thepatchy,yellowinggrassstretchedoutbetweenusisno?man’s?land.
“You’reearly,”hesaysinhisusualslowdrawl,asifhecanbarelybebothereddeliveringthewholesentence.IntheentiredecadeI’vebeenunfortunateenoughtoknowhim,Juliushasneverstartedasingleconversationwithapropergreeting.
“Earlierthanyou,”Itellhim,likeit’samajorpointofvictorythatI’vebeenstandingheresolongIcan’tfeelmytoes.
“Yes,well,Iwasbusywithotherthings.”
Icatchtheimplication:I’mbusierthanyou.IhavemoreimportantthingstodobecauseI’mamoreimportantperson.
“I’mbusytoo,”Isayimmediately.“Verybusy.Mywholemorninghasbeenoneurgentmatterafteranother.Infact,Icameherestraightfrommyworkout—”
“Thatdoessoundlikeaveryurgentmatter.Ifearthenation’seconomywouldcollapseifyoudidn’tgetyourdailypush-upsin.”
You’rejustbitterbecauseIprovedinourlastPEclassthatIcandomorepush-upsthanyou.Thewordsareperchedrightonthetipofmytongue.Theywouldbesosatisfyingtosayoutloud,almostassatisfyingasbeatinghiminanotherfitnesstest,butIswallowthemdown.Stuffmyhandsinmypockets.ThechillseemstobespreadingthroughmybonemarrowintheparticularlyunpleasantkindofwayI’vecometoassociatewithwintershereinMelbourne.
Juliussmileswithonesideofhismouth,anexpressionsoinsincereIwouldratherhescowl.“Cold?”
“Nope,”Isaythroughchatteringteeth.“Notatall.”
“Yourskinisblue,Sadie.”
“Mustbethelighting.”
“You’realsoshaking.”
“Withanticipation,”Iinsist.
“Youdorealizeweonlyneededtogethereatseventhirty,right?”Herollsbackhissleeve,consultshiswatch.It’sabrandtooexpensiveformetorecognize,butfancyenoughformetoknowit’sexpensive.Iactuallywouldn’tbesurprisedifhewascheckingthetimeforthesolepurposeofshowingitoff.“It’sseventwentynow.Howlongexactlyhaveyoubeenstandingoutherelikeanhonoraryhumanstatue?”
Iignorehisquestion.“OfcourseIrealize.IwastherewhenMs.Hedgetoldus.”BecauseafterMs.Hedgehadgivenmehercheerfullittlespeechaboutrepresentingtheschool,Juliushadshownupinherofficetoo,andtomyacuteannoyance,she’dgivenhimtheexactsametask.I’dthenvowedthatIwouldbeathiminthis—Iwouldrockuptoschoolwayearlier,ahundredtimesmoreprepared,incaseanyoneelsearrivedearlytoo,andmakeanincrediblefirstimpressionontheparentsbeforehecould.I’mawarethatthisisn’tsomethingwe’llbegradedon,butthatdoesn’tmatter.
Inmyhead,Iliketokeeparunningmentalscoreboardofeverytest,competition,andopportunityinwhichJuliusandIhaveclashedsincewewereseven,completewithitsownspecificpointsystemthatmakessenseonlytome:
PlusthreepointsforearningoneofMr.Kaye’srareapprovingsmiles.
Plusfivepointsforhittingafundraisergoal.
Plussixpointsforcomingfirstintheschoolbasketballtournament.
Pluseightpointsforwinningaclassdebate.
Asofnow,Juliusisat490points.I’mat495,thankstothehistorytestIcamefirstinlastweek.Still,Ican’tbecomplacent.Complacencyisforlosers.
“Theybetterarrivesoon,”Juliussays,checkinghiswatchagain.ThevaguelyAmericancurlofhiswordshasawayofmakingthedisdaininhisvoicemorepronounced.Forsometimenow,I’vesuspectedthathisaccentisfake.He’sonlyeversetfootintheStatesforcampustours;there’snologicalreasonwhyhe’dsoundlikethat,excepttoseemspecial.“Ihavenointerestinfreezing.”
Irollmyeyes.Theworldisn’tmadetoserveyou,IwanttosnapathimButtheworldmusthavebeenmadetolaughinmyface,becauserightoncue,asifhe’smanifestedthemintoexistence,fourcarsrollintotheparkinglot.Thedoorsclickopen,onebyone,andanauntiestepsoutfromeachvehicle.
AuntieisthemostaccuratedescriptorIcanthinkof.Idon’tmeanitintheblood-relativekindofway(thoughmyownauntsaredefinitelyallaunties),butasastateofmind,aparticularmodeofexistence.Itcanbefelt,itcanbeseen,butitcan’tbestrictlydefined.Ithasitsuniquemarkers:likethemassiveperms,thetattooedeyebrows,theChanelbags,thevaluablejadependanttiedtogetherwithacheapredstring.Buttherearealsonoticeablevariationsamongthem.
Forinstance,thefirstauntietostrutuptothegatesiswearingsix-inchheelsandaneon-greenscarfsobrightitcouldfunctionasatrafficlight.Theauntieinlineafterherisdressedinmoresubduedcolorsandhasnaturallysternfeaturesthatremindmeofmymom.
I’mnotsurprisedthattheparentsinterestedinsendingtheirkidstoourschoolallhappentobeAsian.Wemakeupatleast90percentofthestudentpopulationatWoodvaleAcademy,andthat’sjustaconservativeestimate.Howitcametobethiswayissortofachicken-and-eggquestion.AretheAsiankidsherebecausetheirparentswantedthemtoattendaselectivehighschoolforgiftedstudents?OrweretheirparentsdrawntothisschoolbecausetheyheardtherewereabunchofAsiankidshere?
Iknowformymomitwasthelatter.Aweekaftermydadleft,shewithdrewmefromthepracticallyall-whiteCatholicprimaryschoolIwasinatthetimeandmovedustotheothersideoftown.It’sgoodtobesurroundedbycommunity,shetoldme,hervoicesowearyIcouldn’tthinkofanythingexcepttogoalongwithwhatevershewanted,thatdayandeverydayafterward.Peoplewhowillunderstand.
Juliusshiftsbesideme,andIjoltbacktothepresent.Whenhemovesforward,Istepoutfasterinfrontofhim,mymodel-studentsmilesnappingintoplace.Ipracticeitinfrontofthemirroreveryday.
“Ayi,shilaicanguanxuexiaodema?”IsayinmyverybestMandarin.Areyouheretotourtheschool?
Thefirstauntieblinksatme,thenrepliesinsmoothEnglish,withanAmericanaccentthatcouldputJulius’stoshame,“Yes.Iam.”
Heatshootsupmyface.Withoutevenhavingtolook,IcansenseJulius’squietglee,hisdelightatmyembarrassment.AndbeforeIcanrecover,he’salreadymadehisgrandentrance,hisspinestraight,chinup,thesmugcurveofhislipsbroadeningintoawarmgrin.
“Hello,”hesays,becauseheneverhasanyproblemgreetingotherpeople.“I’mJuliusGong,theschoolcaptain,andI’llbeshowingyouaroundcampusthismorning.”
Iclearmythroat.
Heraisesadarkbrowatmebutaddsnothing.
Iclearmythroatagain,louder.
“AndthisisSadie,”hesaysafterabeat,wavingaloosehandatme.“Theothercaptain.”
“Schoolcaptain,”Ican’thelpemphasizing.Mysmileisstartingtohurtmyface.“I’mschoolcaptain.I’malsosettobevaledictorian.”
“Ihonestlydon’tthinktheycare,”Juliusmurmursintomyear,hisvoicelowenoughforonlymetohear,hisbreathwarmdespitethefreezingweather.
Itrytoactlikehedoesn’texist.ThisismadesomewhatdifficultbythefactthatallfourauntiesarebusyscanningJuliusfromheadtotoe,likethey’retryingtopickouttheirfutureson?in?law.
“Howoldareyou?”oneoftheauntieasks.
“Seventeen,”Juliussaysreadily.
“Youlookverytall,”anotherauntiesays.“What’syourheight?”
Juliusregardsherwithallthepatienceintheworld.“Sixfootone.”
“Thatistall,”shesays,likethisisanimpressivefeatonparwithcuringcancer.It’sjustgenetics,I’mtemptedtopointout,thoughofcourseIrestrainmyself.Heliterallydidn’tevenhavetodoanything.“Andyou’vebeenatthisschoolforhowlongnow?”
“Tenyears,”hereplies.“Almostmyentirelife.”
Ipressmytonguedownagainstthesharpedgeofmyteeth.ThispartIcouldanswerforhim.Byeithercurseorcoincidence—andI’mincreasinglyleaningtowardcurse—weenteredWoodvaleAcademyinthesameyear.Ihadbeenthequietgirl,theshyone,thenewkidnobodyreallywantedanythingtodowith,whilehewasinteresting,mysterious,effortlesslycool.Hehadactedasifhealreadyknewhewouldonedayruletheplace,takingeverythinginwiththatcalculatingblackgazeofhis.TheninPE,wewereplacedonopposingteamsforagameofdodgeball.Thesecondhehadtheballinhishands,hiseyesslidtome.Pinnedmedown.ItwaslikethoseDavidAttenboroughanimaldocumentarieswhereyouwatchinslowmotionastheserpentclosesinonitsprey.Iwastherabbit;hewasthesnake.
Somehow,outofthethirty-somethingkidsinthatsweaty,poorlyventilatedgym,hehadpickedmeasthepersontobeat.ButIwasexceptionallygoodatdodging,lightandfastonmyfeet.Eachtimeheaimedatme,Iswervedoutoftheway.Intheend,itwasonlythetwoofusleft.Hekeptthrowing.Ikeptducking.Itprobablywouldhavegoneonlikethatuntiltheverylastperiod,buttheotherkidsinourclassweregettingtiredofstandingaround,andtheteacherhadtostepinandcallitatie.
Fromthatpointon,JuliusGongbecamethebaneofmyexistence.Theissueisthatnobodyelseseemstosharemyfrustrations,becauseheonlyeverbareshisfangsatme.
Infact,theauntiesarealreadyinlovewithhim.He’sstillsmilingandnodding,askingtheauntiesabouttheirhealthandtheircookingandsomeupcomingfarmer’smarket(whenI’mcertainJuliushasneversetfootintoanythingthatstartswithfarmerinhislife),andthey’realljusteatingitup.Asoneoftheauntiesaskshimabouthisgrades,hepauses,turnshisheadjustafractiontowardme,andhissmiletwistsintoasmirkIalonecansee.
“They’reokay,”hesays,withfalsemodesty.“IdidreceivetheTopAchiever’sAwardforEnglishjustlastsemester.Andchemistry.Andeconomics.Andphysics.”
“Wah,”theauntiesgushinsync.Theycouldn’tbemorecooperativeifhe’dpaidthem.“That’sincredible.”
“You’resosmart.”
“Todosowellatsuchacompetitiveschool?Youmustbeagenius.”
“Bothhandsomeandintelligent.Yourparentsreallyraisedyouwell.”
Icanimaginemyownbloodboilinginsideme,thesteamscorchingmythroat.Totherestoftheworld,hemightbeanangel,aperfectstudentwithaprettyface.ButIknowwhathereallyis,whathe’slike.
“Weshouldgetthetourgoing,”Isaysweetly,clenchingmyteethbehindmyfakebeam.“There’slotsforustosee.Sincetherearefourofyou?.?.?.?Icanshowyoutwoaround.”Igesturetotheauntiesstandingclosesttome.Neitherofthemlooksparticularlyhappyaboutthisarrangement.Theauntiewiththegreenscarfactuallyheavesanaudiblesighofdisappointment,whichisalwaysencouraging.“AndJuliuscanleadthewayfortheothers.”
Theremainingtwowomenstepbehindhimatonce,andJuliuspushesopenthewroughtirongateswithalltheeaseofahostathisownparty.“Gladly,”hesays.“Followme.”
Inthebackofmymind,thenumbersflashlikeawarningsign:
ThreepointstoJulius.Ispendthenexthourtalkinguntilmythroathurts.
It’snotasiftheschoolcampusiseventhatbig:Wehavethreebuildingsintotal,alldesignedinthesameboring,rectangularstylewithwhite-framedwindowsandgableroofs,andspreadoutaroundthemainoval.
Theissueismorethatthere’salotofexplainingtodo.
Like:whyphotosoftheseniorteachershavebeencutoutandgluedtotheceiling.“It’sagestureofappreciationandrespect,”Itellthem,becauseprankisnottherightwordhere.“AtWoodvale,teachersandstudentsareonverycloseterms,andwe’reencouragedtoexpressourselvesin,ah,creativeways.Everytimewewalkthroughthesebeautifulhalls,we’reremindedthatourteachersarealwayslookingdownonusfromabove.Like,um,angels.OrGod.”
Orwhythere’samassivestatueofagreendonkeyinthemiddleofthehallwhenourmascotismeanttobeahorseandourschoolcolorsareblueandwhite.“Donkeysaresymbolic,”Ilieonthespot.Intruth,ourdeputyprincipal,who’dorderedthecursedstatue,apparentlyjustisn’tverysensitivetoeithercolorsoranimals.Itcouldhavebeenworse,Iguess;shecouldhaveorderedastatueofacow.“Theystandfordeterminationandhardworkandgrit:allcrucialschoolvalueswetaketoheart.”
Orwhythescheduleonthebulletinboardsaysournextassemblywillbehappeningat9:00a.m.,10:00a.m.,10:20a.m.,3:00p.m.,3:35p.m.,andsomehowalso8:00p.m.“Weliketobeveryflexible,”Isay,usheringthemalong.“Obviouslythereisonlyonetimefortheassemblythateveryoneknowsabout.Obviouslythishasbeencommunicatedwell,becausethecommunicationatthisschoolisflawless.Now,haveyouseenourdrinkingfountains?Wehaveagreatfiltrationsystem?.?.?.”
Orwhythere’saconstructionsitenexttothecafeteria.
“Irememberreadingaboutthisontheschoolwebsite,”thegreen-scarfauntiesayswithasmallfrown.We’vestoppedjustoutsidethewirefences,andevenIhavetoadmit,theviewisn’tgreat.There’snothingbutrubbleandplasticcoveringsandafewscatteredpoles.Aswestare,aliteraltumbleweedrollsacrossthedirt.“It’sforthenewsportsandrecreationcenter,no?Ithoughtitwasmeanttobefinishedtwoyearsago.”
“Right.That.”Mysmilewidensindirectproportiontomypanic.Idon’tknowhowtotellherthat,yes,thesportsandrecreationcenterwasfinishedtwoyearsago.Butthentherecameaminorissuewiththebathrooms.Tobespecific,thetoiletswereallbuiltfacingtheside,insteadofthedoor,soyoucouldn’tsitdownonthemwithoutbangingyournose.Atfirsttheschoolaskedustobegratefulandflexibleandviewitasalearningexperience,butafterGeorginaWilkinsgotabruisefromthestallsandthreatenedtosue,theydecideditwasbettertorebuildthecenterfromthegroundupafterall.“Thereweresomesmalldelays,”Isay,“butonlysotheycouldmakeitevenbiggerandbetter.Therearesometrulyexcitingfeaturescoming,includingaminigolfcourseontheroof,aswimmingpool,andthreeprivategyms.Butasyouknow,excellencetakestime.”
Theauntieconsidersthisforamomentand,tomyrelief,moveson.
We’vecircledourwaybacktotheschoolgatesnow.Thestudentshavestartedtotricklein,yellinggoodbyetotheirparentsfromthecurb,swingingtheirbagsovertheirshouldersandmessagingtheirfriends.Juliusisalsothere.He’sstandingbeforetheaunties,hisstyledhairglintingintherisingorangelight,withhisperfectskinandperfectuniformandperfectposture.Justseeinghimmakesmewanttoputmyfistthroughsomethinghard—ideally,hisjaw.
“We’lldefinitelybesendingourdaughterhere,”oneoftheauntiesissaying.“Ifyou’rethestandardforthestudentsatWoodvale,thenthisistheperfectschool.”
Ifeelablackthunderboltofrage,theelectricitycracklingdownmyspine.It’smadeworsewhenJuliuscatchesmyeye,likehewantstomakesureI’mlistening.
“It’sbeenapleasure,”hesayssmoothly.
“No,no,thepleasureisallmine,”theauntiereturnsinMandarin,andmyjawunhinges.Shewastheonewho’dusedEnglishwithmeearlier.Itprobablymeansnothing.OritdefinitelymeansshelikesJuliusmoreandfeelsmorefamiliarwithhimandtrustshimeventhoughtherearepyramidschemeleadersmoretrustworthythanheis.“Wecouldn’thaveaskedforabettertourguide.Really.”
Stilllookingatme,Juliussmiles.“I’msohappytohearit.”
Ibitemytongue,swallowallimpulsesforviolence,andwavetotheauntiesastheyleave.Thesecondtheirclackingheelshavefadedintothedistance,Irushofftomyfirstclass:history.UnfortunatelythisisalsothefirstofmysharedclasseswithJulius,andit’snotlongbeforehisfootstepscatchuptomine
“Thatwentwell,didn’tit?”hesays,hisvoicedriftingjustovermyshoulder.
“Didit?”Isay,shovingtheglassdoorstothehumanitiesbuildingopenwithmaybeabitmoreforcethannecessary.I’mkindofhopingthatit’llswingbackandhithim,butofcourse,hecatchesthedooreasilywithonehandandslidesinafterme.
“Imeanthatitwentwellforme,”heclarifies.“Bothofthemaresendingtheirchildrenhere.IbetMs.Hedgewillbepleased.ShemusthaveknownIwasthebestpersonforthistask,thoughIsupposeyoumadesomelimitedcontributionsaswell.”
Imuttersomethingunrepeatableundermybreath.
“Whatwasthat?”Icanalmosthearthegloatingsmileinhisvoice.
“Nothing.Ijustsaidwe’regoingtobelateifwekeeptalking.”
“Well,unlikeyou,Ihavenoproblemwithmultitasking.”
Gotoyourhappyplace,IwillmyselfasIpushopenthenextsetofdoors.Inmymind,I’mnolongerwalkingthesecrowdedhalls,listeningtothewarningbellchime.Nolongerinthistown,even.I’vegraduated,undefeated,asvaledictorianandschoolcaptain,andgottenmydegreefromBerkeley,andI’veboughtahugehouseinabigcityformymomandmyolderbrother,Max(ideally,hewouldhavemanagedtoactuallyfindajobonhisownafterfinishinghisexpensivesportsuniversity,butthisismeanttobeanachievabledream,notanalternatereality).Inthenewhouse,therearemorewindowsthanwallsandatdawnthesunlightturnseverythingintogold.We’llhavevasesfulloffreshjasmines,andchocolate-coveredstrawberriesfordessert,andlunchesoutsideinourowngardens.Mymomwillstillrunherbakery,butshewon’thavetoworktwelvehoursaday,andwewon’tbeunderstaffedanymore,andwe’llonlygotosneakouttarobunsandtunarollswarmfromtheoven.
It’llbejustus,andwewon’tneedanyoneelse.Ourliveswillbebetterthantheyusedtobewithmydadaround.I’lldoeverythingheshould’vedone,provideeverythingheshouldhaveprovided.I’lldosomuchthatnobodywillfeelhisabsencelingeringinourlivingroomlikeasilentghostanymore.MaybeMomwillevenstartsmilingagain.
AllIhavetodotomakethatlifehappenispushthroughtheselastfewmonths.TurninallmyhomeworkontimeandaceeveryremainingtestandmakemyteachershappysoIcankeepmyconditionalofferofadmissiontoBerkeley.Abigailalwaysenjoysplacingemphasisontheadmissionpart,butI’mmoreconcernedabouttheconditionalpart.
So.Justafewmoremonthsofthis.
Whichsoundssimpleenough,butatthethought,Ifeelapressurethat’salmostlikeaphysicalforce,crushingmyribs.Ihavetosteadymyselfbeforeenteringtheclassroom,breatheinthroughmynostrils,bounceupanddownslightlyontheballsofmyfeet,thewayIdobeforerunningarace.Itdoesn’thelpthattheroomistoobright,tooloud,everyoneloungingaroundtheclustersofdesksandtalkingatfullvolume.
Juliuspausesbesideme.“What,notgoingin?”Thecornersofhislipsarecurvedintheirusualcondescendingmanner,buthestudiesmeforanextrabeat,likehe’stryingtofiguresomethingout.
“Iam,”Isay,ignoringthetightnessinmychestandpushingpasthim.
I’vemadeitalloftwostepsinsidewhenafreckledfacejumpsintomyvision.RosieWilson-Wang.She’soneofthosepeoplewhoknowexactlyhowprettytheyare,andusesittoherfulladvantage.She’salsothegirlwhocopiedmysciencefairprojectlastyearwithouttellingme,thenwentontoreceiveanA?plusfor“innovation”and“creativity.”
“Sadie,”shegushes,whichisabadsignrightaway.Scienceprojectaside,RosieandIareonamicableterms,butthat’sbecauseI’vemadeitmymissiontobeonamicabletermswitheveryone.Oratleastappeartobe.
“Hey,”Isay.
“DidyoucomeinwithJulius?”Shepeersoverathimwithwhatfeelslikeunnecessaryappreciation,thenadds,“He’ssogreat,isn’the?”
Idon’tknowwhethertolaughorcoughupblood.Iguessit’satestamenttohowwellIhidemytruefeelingsthatnobodyotherthanAbigailwouldevensuspecthowmuchIhatehim.“Mm,”Imuster.
“Hishairlooksreallygoodtoday.”Hereyestrailafterhimashetakeshisseatatthefrontoftheclassroom.“Like,itlookssosoft?”It’ssomewhatconcerningthatshe’schosentovocalizethisasaquestion.Itimpliesadesiretofindouttheanswer.
“Sorry,”Isay,tryingnottolooktoodisturbed.“Wereyougoingtoaskmesomething?”
“Right,yeah.”Shebeamsatme.“Iwasjustwonderingifyoucouldsendmeyournotes.”
“Oh.Sure.Forhistory,youmean,or—”
“Forallourhistoryclassessofarthissemester,”shesaysquickly.“Youknow,becauseofthatexamcomingupnextmonth?And,like,sure,Icouldtechnicallyusemyownnotes,butyournotesaresomuchmorecomprehensiveandorganized.”
“Oh,”Isayagain.“Yeah,IguessIcould—”
“Perfect,”shesays,squeezingmywrist.Herlongacrylicnailsscratchmyskin,butIstaystill.“You’resuchasaint,Sadie.Atruelifesaver.”
Thecomplimentgoesdownmythroatlikesyrup,warmingmeupfromwithin.It’sembarrassinghowtightIlatchontotheselittlepiecesofvalidation,howmuchIwanttobeliked,tomakeeveryonehappy.SometimesIthinkIwouldgivethemoneofmyownarmsiftheyaskedverynicely.
Rosiemovestoherdeskbythewindowwherehertight-knitcircleoffriendsaresitting.Allofthemaregorgeous,mostofthemaredancers,andasignificant,overlappingportionofthemareinfluencers.Yesterday,oneofthempostedaten-secondvideoofthemselvesstandingbeforeamirrorandbobbingtheirhead.Itreceivedseventythousandlikes,andthecommentswerefloodedwithpeoplebeggingtobeadoptedorrunoverbyherPorsche.“Bytheway,”Rosiecallsoverhershoulder,“couldyouscanyournotesincolorandsortthembydateandtopic?Andcouldyouaddinyourpracticeessaystoo?Justsenditallovertomyschoolemailbytonight—”
“Hey,couldyousendittometoo?”Herfriend,thehead-bobbinginfluencerherself,winksatme.
“Metoo,please,whileyou’reatit,”herotherfriendchimesin.
Inodonce,weakly,andtheyallturntheirheadsbacktogiggleaboutsomethingontheirphones.
“Thanks,”Rosiesays,withoutglancingupagain.“Muchlove.”
Iswallow,herpreviouscomplimentthreateningtomakeitswaybackup.Butthat’sfine.It’snobigdeal.Certainlynoreasontogetworkedup.ImakeamentalnotetoruntotheschoolprintersthisafternoonbeforeIheadofftomymom’sbakery.It’llpushbackmyalreadytightschedulebyaboutthirtyminutes,whichmeansI’llhavetoshortenmyeveningruntoonlyfivemilesoreatdinnerwhileIworkormaybeboth,butreally,it’snotanissue.
Itakeanotherdeepbreath,thoughitsoundsstrainedtomyownears,andalittlefrantic,likesomeonewho’sbeenunderwatertoolongcomingupforairrightbeforedivingdownagain.
Nobigdealatall.
???
I’vealreadypulledoutmynotebooksandwrittendowntoday’sdatewhenAbigailOngwaltzesinasifsheisn’tsevenminuteslate.
Iwouldaskhertoatleasttryandbemoresubtle,butthatwouldbeaskingtheimpossible.Abigailisbasicallyawalkingglow?in?the-darkexclamationmark,withherplatinum-silverhairandrolled?upskirtandplatformcombatboots,whicharereallyjuststylishstilts.Theythudoverthecarpetasshemakesherwaytowardme.Ms.Hedgehastoldheroffmultipletimesfornotwearingproperschoolshoes,butthenAbigailendedupwritingafive-pagethesisaboutwhyherbootsdidinfactmeetalltherequirementsforschoolshoes,completewithaproperbibliographyandeverything.Idon’tthinkshe’severputsomucheffortintoanyofheractualessaysbefore.
“I’vearrived,”Abigailannouncestotheclassingeneral.
Ourhistoryteacher,Ms.Rachel,glancesupfromherdesk.“That’snice.Takeyourseat,Abigail.”Nootherteacherwouldbesochillaboutit,butthat’soneofthereasonswhyMs.Rachelisuniversallyadored.Theotherreasonsbeingthatshe’sinhertwenties,shethrowsChristmas-themedpizzapartiesattheendofeveryschoolyear,andhersurnamesoundslikeafirstname,therebycreatingtheillusionthatwe’reonacasualfirst-namebasiswithher.
“I’mgivingyouhalfofthisperiodtoworkonyourgroupprojects,”Ms.RacheltellsAbigail.“Ofcourse,seeingasit’sduebynineo’clock,Iwouldassumethatyou’reprettymuchfinished.ButIliketobegenerous.”
Abigailofferstheteacheramocksalute,thendropsintothechairbesideme.
“Hello,darling,”shesays.Shestartedcallingpeopledarlingironicallylastyear,butitseemstohaveenteredherpermanentvocabulary.Thesamegoesforbamboozled,vexed,andtherandom,self-inventedphrasefumbledthebirdie.
Ifinishunderliningthedatewithmyrulersoit’sperfectlystraight.Thisislikemyversionofdrugs.“Hi,”Isay.“DoIreallywanttoknowwhyyou’relate?”
“Whyelse?MysistergotintoafightwithLiamagain,sohecanceledlastminute.Ihadtowalktwo-point-fivemileshereintheseheels.”Shekicksoutherbootsforemphasis.
“Haveyouconsidered,Idon’tknow,notrelyingonyoursister’son?and-offboyfriendforyourdailycommute?”
“LiamdrivesaLamborghini.”
“So?”
“SoI’mafanofexpensivecars.”
Isnort.“You’resuchacapitalist.”
“IliketothinkI’msupportingthepeoplecontributingtooureconomy.”
“Irestmycase.Andit’snotlikeheboughtthatcarwithhisownmoney,”Ipointout.“He’safuerdai;hisparentsprobablygaveittohimforhistwentiethbirthdayasalittlebonustogowithhisnewvillainSanya.Butmoneyaside,Ijustfeellikehe’ssortofaredflag.”
Abigailraisesahandinprotest.“Heisnot—”
“Hehasaliteralredflaghanginginhiscar.”
“Okay,butyousaythataboutallmen,everywhere,”Abigailsays.“Youdon’ttrustanyofthem.”
Maybeshe’sright.Idefinitelydon’ttrustLiam,butIguessIshouldalsogivehimsomecredit:He’stheonlyreasonAbigailandIarefriendsinthefirstplace.WhenhestarteddroppingAbigailoffatschoolthreeyearsago,someonehadmisunderstoodthesituationandspreadtherumorthatAbigailwasdatingaguywayolderthanherformoney.AswithanythingelseatWoodvale,it’dtraveledtobasicallyeveryone—includingthereceptionists—bytheendofsecondperiod.Eventhoughwe’dneverexchangedmorethanafewwordswitheachotherbefore,Ihadn’tbeenabletoresiststoppingbyherlockerduringabreaktoaskifshewasokay.
Shewas,shockingly.Infact,shefoundthewholethinghilarious.Iwassurprisedsomeonecouldgenuinelynotcarewhatotherpeoplethoughtofherwhenhersituationwasmyveryworstnightmare;shewassurprisedthatsomeonecouldgenuinelycareaboutarandomstrangerandsacrificetheirownfreetimetocomfortthem.
Sowespentrecesschatting,andthenthenextperiod,andthenthelasthourofschool,atwhichpointitonlymadesenseforustoexchangenumbersandcontinuetheconversationathome.
“I’mtellingyou,he’snotabadperson.Ihave,like,perfectgutinstinctswhenitcomestothisstuff.I’vecorrectlypredictedthebreakupofeverycoupleinouryearlevelsofar,haven’tI?”she’ssaying.Sherummagesthroughherbag—IswearIhearsomethingcrackinginsideit—andtugsoutabluntpencil,acrumpledworksheetfromlastyear,abagofsourworms,andherlunchfortheday.Itmusthavebeenpackedbyhermom;thebreadcrustsareremoved,thecarrotsarecutintheshapeofhearts,andthere’sastickynotethatsaysYou’reastar!Herparentsarebigbelieversinpositivemessages,butthey’realsojustbigbelieversinAbigail.Beforevisitingherhouse,I’dassumedthatkindofunconditionalloveandsupportonlyexistedinoldsitcoms.“Oh,howwastheparents’tour,bytheway?”
“Ilost,”Isaybitterly.Ikeepmyvoiceasquietaspossible,becauseI’dratherdiethanletJuliusoverhearmeadmittingdefeat.
“Youlost?”Abigailrepeats,laughing.“Youcan’tloseatour—”
“Ican.Idid.Ihave.”
“You’resoridiculous,”shesays.Iwouldbeaffrontedifitcamefromanyoneelse,butAbigailonlyteasesaveryselectnumberofpeopleshedeemsimportant.Everyoneelsemightaswellbebackgroundnoise,flies,motesofdust;inhereyes,theysimplydon’texist.“Well,atleastyoudon’thavetoworryaboutthegroupprojectanymore.You’redonealready,Igather,liketheunreasonablyorganizedpersonyouare?”
“Ofcourse.Youknowmypolicy.”AnytimeIreceiveadeadline,I’llsetmyselfmyowndeadlineatleastaweekbeforeit.That’swhyIspentthefirsttwodaysofwinterbreakcompletingmypartoftheprojectonChina’sWarlordEra,whichincludesafour-thousand-wordresearchessay,ahand-drawnanimationoftheZhili-AnhuiWar,andaninteractivemapofthevariouscliques.Theworkloaditselfwasstressful,yes,butI’monlycalmwhenI’mahead.“Ijustneedmygrouptogivemetheirsummaries,andthenwecansubmitit.”
Abigailglancesupandpointsatmygroupmembers,GeorginaWilkinsandRaySuzuki,whoarecomingovertoourdesk.“Uh,theydon’tlooklikethey’reholdinganything.Shouldyoubeconcerned?”
Ifrown.Theyarebothempty-handed,andastheysqueezecloserpastthedesks,IcanmakeoutthesheepishsmileonGeorgina’sface.
Abadfeelingdigsintomygut.
Still,I’mwillingtogivethemthebenefitofthedoubt.“Hey,howareyou?”Iask,becauseitfeelsrudetodemandtoseetheirsummariesrightaway.
ButRaydoesn’tseemtohaveanyqualmsaboutrudeness.“Wedidn’tdoit,”hesaysbluntly.
Iblink.Hemightaswellhavepunchedmeinthestomach.“I—Youdidn’tdo?.?.?.?thesummary?”
“Nope,”hesays,stickinghishandsintohispockets.
“Okay.”Icanhearafaintringingsoundinmyears,buildingintoascreech.Idomybesttorecalibrate.Staycalm.Stayfriendly.Stayfocused.“Okay.Okay,um.It’sokayifyoudidn’tfinish—maybejustshowmewhatyouhaveand—”
“Ididn’tdoanyofit,”hesays.
Anotherpunch,evenharderthanthelast.IfIwerestandingup,I’dbestaggeringback.
“Right.Andisthereareasonwhy,or?.?.?.”
Helooksmestraightintheeye.“Idon’tknow.GuessIjustwasn’tsurehow.Or,like,whatweweremeanttobedoing,youfeel?”
“Thesummary,”Igetout.ThesummaryIalreadywroteoutforyou,Iaddinsidemyhead.Wordforword.TheoneIaskedyoutocopydownontothetemplatethatIpredesignedandprintedandpersonallydeliveredtoyourhouseinthewinterrainonthefirstdayofthemidyearbreaksoyoucoulddoitwhenyouhadtime.Thatsummary?“Ithought?.?.?.?Imean,sure,”Isay,seeinghisblankstare.“That’sokay.Whataboutyou,Georgina?”
Georginamakesagesturethatremindsmeofaflowerwilting.“I’msorry,”shesays,pouting.“Itriedtostart,Ipromise,but,like,myfacestillhurtsfromwhenIhitmynoseagainstthebathroomwall?”
“Ithoughtyousaidyouwerefine,”Raysays.
Georginashootshimaquick,pointedlook,thenturnsbacktome,herdarkeyesshiningwithemotion.“IfeelworsewheneverIhavetoworkonanassignment.It’s,like,superunfortunate.IwishIcoulddomoretohelp,but?.?.?.”
Staycalm,Iremindmyself.Iclenchthemusclesinmyarmsohardtheyhurtandthen,veryslowly,forcethemtorelaxagain.IrepeatthisuntilInolongerfeellikecommittingmurder.“It’snotyourfault,”Itellher,eyeingtheclock.Onlyeighteenminutesleftuntilthedeadline.Ihavetwosummariestowriteup,whichleavesjustnineminutesforeach.Eightminutes,ifIwanttotaketimetodouble-checkeverythingbeforesubmitting.“Youknowwhat?Icanjustdotherestmyself.Totallycool.”
Iexpectmoreresistance,buttheyretreatrapidly,asifthey’vejustdroppedagrenadeinmylap.
Butnotimetoworryaboutthem.Thisismyproject.Thisismygradeontheline.Onemistakeandmywholeaveragewilldrop,andBerkeleywon’twantmeanymore.Ipushmysleevesupashighasthey’llgo,thenopenupmyschoollaptoptofindmynotes.Justseventeenminutesleft.Briefly,asIstareatthetinywordsloadedontothescreen,thedozensoftabspulledopen,IfeelsooverwhelmedIcouldchoke.Thewordsfadeinandout;myvisionblurs.
Nothinggetsin.
ThenInoticeJuliuswatchingmeinmyperipheralvision,andit’slikeI’vebeenzapped.Everythingsharpensbackintofocus.Iwon’tgivehimthesatisfactionofseeingmestruggle.Irefuseto.
Withdeliberate,feignedcalm,Ipickupmypenandbegincopyingthesummarydown.
Forthosenextseventeenminutes,Idon’tmoveorspeakorevenliftmyheaduntilI’vewrittendownthelastword.ThenIreleaseasighthattravelsallthewaythroughmybones,downtomysoremusclesandstifffingers.Thatwastooclose.Waytooclose.Nexttimeitmightbesafertojustdoeverythingmyself.
“Thanks,Sadie,”Ms.Rachelsaysasshecollectsourproject.“Ican’twaittoreadthroughthisone;theWarlordEraisabsolutelyfascinating.Itwasoneofmyfavoritesubjectsincollege.”
Iactlikethisisnewstome,ahappycoincidence.LikeIdidn’tspendhourssearchingheruponlineandreadingthroughanoldinterviewshedidforheralmamater’sstudentmagazine,whereshementionedherinterestintheWarlordEra.LikeIdidn’tchoosethisspecifictopicfortheverypurposeofappealingtoherpersonaltastes.
Abigailwouldaffectionatelyrefertosuchbehaviorasmysociopathictendencies
“I’mjustgoingtopopintomyofficetoputthisaway,”Ms.Racheltellsme,noddingtowardthepileofpapersgatheredinherarms.“I’llbefiveminutes.CouldyoukeepaneyeontheclassformewhileI’mgone?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Great.Icanalwayscountonyou.”Ms.Rachelsmilesateveryonelikethey’respecial,butsomehowitstillmanagestofeelgenuinewhenshe’ssmilingatme.
Thesecondshestepsoutthedoor,theclassdissolvesintochaos.Peopleslumpbackintheirseats,kicktheirfeetondesks,stretchtheirarmsoutinloud,open-mouthedyawns.Muffledconversationsgivewaytoopenhootsoflaughterandshoutsacrosstheroom.
BeforeIcandoanythingaboutit,analertpopsupfrommyschoolinbox.
Onenewemail.
Myheartleaps.I’mprayingit’sareplyfromMr.Kaye,ourmathteacher;Isenthimadesperateemailaftermidnightyesterdayaboutoneofthebonusquestions.UnfortunatelyIstillhaveallmytabsopen,andmyaginglaptopisclearlyprotesting;Ihavetoclickmyinboxabouttwentytimesbeforetherainbowspinningwheeldisappears.ThenIglanceatthenameofthesender,andmyhopewhittlesawayintorage.
It’sfromJulius.
Justsoyouknow,Ms.Racheltookapeekatourgroupprojectearlierandsaiditlooked—andIquote—“phenomenal.”I’msayingthisnowsoyou’renottooshockedwhenourgradescomebackandmine’shigherthanyours.IknowhowupsetyougeteverytimeIwin.
Bestregards,
JuliusGong,SchoolCaptain
Isnapmyheadup,myeyesgoingstraighttohim,buthe’sturnedaway,chattingtotheprettygirlsittingnexttohim.Ashelaughs,I’mgrippedbythevisceralurgetomarchupthereandshakehimbytheshoulders,digmynailsintohissmoothskin.Iwanttoleaveapermanentmark.Iwanthimtofeelit,tohurt.Iwanttodestroyhim.
“Sadie.”Abigail’svoicesoundsathousandmilesaway,eventhoughshe’ssittingrightnexttome.“Um,there’saveininyourtemplethatlookslikeitshouldbeexaminedbyahealthprofessional.”
WhenIdon’treply,sheleansovermeandreadstheemailonmyscreen.
“Damn,”shebreathes.“Thatboy’sreallymakingithislifemissiontogetonyournerves.”
IsqueezeoutascoffthatsoundsmorelikeI’mbeingstrangled.
Acrosstheclassroom,he’sstilllaughingwiththeothergirl.
Happyplace,Iremindmyself.Rememberyourhappyplace.Yourfuture.
ButwhenItrytosummonuptheimageofthegianthousewiththesunlitroomsandsoftcurtains,allthatmaterializesisJulius’ssneeringface,hispitch-blackeyesandhaughtycheekbonesandcurvedlips.Beautifulandhorrible,likethosevividflowersyoufindbloominginthewildthatareactuallycarnivorous.
SoinsteadIspreadmyfingersoverthekeyboardandbegintotypeinafuriousrush,stabbingouteachletterwithmynails.Thisismylastresort,mysanctuary,theantidotetomyanger.BecauseIknowbetterthananyonethatI’mnotreallyasaint.Nowhereclose.Isimplyliketounleashallmyrageinmyemaildrafts,whereIcanbeasharshandpettyandunforgivingasIwant,becauseIalsoknowthatI’llneverhavethenervetosendthemout.WhenIwrite,Iwriteanythingandeverythingthatcomestomind.
Julius,
JustsoYOUknow,I’mkeepingyouremailasevidencesothatwhenourgradescomebackandmine’sobviouslyhigher,you’llunderstandhowitfeelstobeslappedbyyourownhand.Ican’twaitforthedaytoarrive.Butalso,evenifitwereatie,Idon’tthinkyouhaveanyreasontogloat.YoumanagedtocompleteyourprojectonlybecauseyouhavesmartpeoplelikeAdaminyourgroup,andyouhaveAdaminyourgrouponlybecauseyougavetheteacherthatcompleterubbishspeechaboutwantingtoswitchthingsupandbondwithnewpeersandsosheletyouchoose.
Maybetheteacherandtheparentsyoushowedaroundthismorningandeveryoneelseatthisschoolbuyyourbullshit,butIcanseerightthroughyou,JuliusGong.You’reattentionstarvedandself-obsessedandunbearablyvainandyouwearyourcynicismlikeacrown;you’rethekindofkidontheplaygroundwhostealsatoynotbecauseyouwantitbutbecausesomebodyelsedoes.
Also,yourhairstyleisridiculous.Youmightthinkitlooksallnaturalandeffortless,butIbetyouspendentirehoursofyourmorningstylingitwithatinycombsothattheonesingularstrandfallsoveryourlefteyeattheperfectangle.Fromthebottomofmyheart,Ireallyhopeyourcombbreaksandyourunoutofwhateverexpensivehairproductsyou’vebeenusingtomakeyourhairappeardeceptivelysoftwhenI’msureit’snot,becausethere’snothingsoftaboutyou,anywhereatall—
“Morning,Mr.Kaye!”
Thenamejoltsmebacktoreality.IpeelmyeyesfrommylaptopandspotMr.Kayewalkingpastusdownthecorridor,ahandliftedingreeting.
Iquicklysavethedraft.It’sthefifty-seventhdraftemailIhave;themajorityofthemarededicatedtoJulius,butthereareafewotherswrittenforclassmatesandteacherswho’vemademylifeespeciallydifficultinthepast.
“Mr.Kaye,”Icall,shootingupfrommyseatsofastIbangmykneeagainstthedesk.“Mr.Kaye,wait—”Isuppressawinceandrushoutintothecorridorafterhim.
“Sadie,”hesays,regardingmewiththestrainedpatienceofagrandparenthumoringtheiroverenergeticgrandchild.He’sprobablyoldenoughtobemygrandpa,thoughit’shardtotell,withhisdyedblackhair.
“Sorrytobotheryou,”Isay.“Butdidyougetthat—”
“Emailyousent?”hefinishesforme.Unlikehishair,hisbrowsareapepperygray.Theyriseslowlyuphiswideforehead.“Yes,Idid.Areyouoftenupatoneinthemorning?”
“No,ofcoursenot.”Ioftengotosleeplaterthanthat,butthere’snoreasontoraisealarm.AndthelastthingIneedisforthistodevolveintoaconversationaboutmyunhealthysleepinghabits.Ijustwanttoknowifmyanswerwascorrectornot.“Forquestionsix?.?.?.”
“Thetextbookwaswrong,”hetellsme.“Don’tworry,Sadie,yourcalculationswerecompletelyright.Theanswershouldhavebeenninety-two.I’llmakeanoteofitinclass,thoughIdoubtanyoneelseexceptJuliushaseventouchedthebonusquestions.”
Thetextbookwaswrong.Themostbeautifularrangementofwordstoeverexist.It’slikesomeone’sinjectedsunlightdirectlyintomyveins.I’msorelieved,soeuphoric,thatIdon’tevenmindthementionofJulius.
“Ohmygod,that’samazing,”Isay,completelysincereforonce.“That’s—Thankyousomuch,Mr.Kaye.Iredidmycalculationssomanytimes;Itried,like,eightdifferentmethods—”
“I’llbetyoudid,”hesays,andthistimethecornersofhislipsrisetoo,withmildamusement.“Wasthatall?”
“Yes,”Ibabble,myfacesplittingintoabeam.“Yes,thanksagain.Youhavenoidea—thisjustmademyentireday.”
I’mstillbeamingasIheadback,myhighbunbouncing,myfootstepslight.Somaybethemorningwasofftoabitofaroughstart.That’sfine.Thingsaregoodnow.
Idon’tevenmindthefactthattheclassroomsituationhasdeterioratedfurther,orthatRosieandherfriendshavepushedbackafewofthetables—includingmine—toshootavideoofthemselvesspinningonthespotforgodknowswhatreason.Isimplywaituntilthey’redoneandrearrangethetablesmyself.
“Yourmoodchangedfast,”Abigailsays,seeingmyface.“DidMr.Kayegiveyouacashprizeorsomething?”
“Evenbetter:Thetextbookwaswrong.”Iletoutahappysigh.“Iwasright.”
WhenItakemyseatagain,Inotice,dimly,thatmylaptopseemstobeinadifferentposition.Ipause,frowning.IcouldhaveswornI’dloweredthescreenalmostallthewaydown,notjusthalfway.ButthenMs.Rachelreturnswithimportantinformationforourupcomingtest,andIforgeteverythingelse.I’mtoofocusedonplanningoutmynextmovetobeatJulius.Sometimesyourbodyknowsbeforeyourminddoes.
Myskintinglesallthewaytotheschoolcaféatlunch,eventhoughIcan’tplaceafingeronwhy.Onthesurface,everythingisthesame:thecrispchillintheair,thestudentsliningupoutsideforwarmbagelsandhotchocolate,blowingintotheirhandsandwrappingtheirblue-and-whitescarvestighteraroundtheirneckswhiletheywait.
Butsomething’sdifferent.Something’schanged.
“Doyoufeelthat?”IaskAbigailaswejointhebackoftheline.Thesunhasclimbedhigherinthesky,throwingwideswathsofgoldenlightoverthecourtyard.
“Feelwhat?”
“Idon’tknow,”Imurmur,glancingaroundme.Myeyeslockwithsomegirlfromaloweryearlevel.Hergazelingersonmyfaceabeat,asifinconfirmation,beforeshetwistsherheadawayandwhisperssomethingtoherfriend,herhandcoveringhermouth.It’snotaboutyou,Itellmyself.There’sliterallynoreasonwhythey’dbetalkingaboutyou.Butasickfeelingspreadsovermyribcage.“Ijust?.?.?.?feellikepeoplearestaring.”
“Maybeit’sbecauseofhowgorgeousweare.”Abigailtossesherglossyhairoverhershoulder.“Iwouldstareatustoo.”
“Yourconfidenceisinspiring,”Isay,“butsomehow,Idoubtthat’sit?.?.?.”
Weshuffleforward,andithappensagain.Anothergirlcatchesmyeye,thenpointedlylooksintheotherdirection.
“Well,darling,youareschoolcaptain,”Abigailsays.“Peoplearegoingtonoticeyou,right?Ithoughtyou’dbeusedtoitbynow.”
Andpeopledonoticeme.It’swhyIcampaignedsohardtobeelectedschoolcaptaininthefirstplace,whyI’vethrownmyselfintodeliveringspeechesatassemblyandsendingoutmassremindersaboutfundraisingeventsandconductingstudentsurveystheprincipalonlypretendstoread.Well,that,andbecauseIknewitwouldlookgreatonmyBerkeleyapplication,andbecauseI’dheardthatJuliuswasrunningforcaptain,andanythinghedidIhadtodoaswell.Butrightnowpeoplearedoingmorethannoticing.Inmyperipheralvision,IseesomeoneI’veneverspokentobeforepointstraightatme.
“Okay,”Isay,myuneasinessgrowing.“MaybeI’mbeingparanoid,butIseriouslythink—”
“Whatthehell?”
IwhiparoundtofindRosie,ofallpeople,storminguptous.No,tome.Hereyesarenarrowed,herphonegrippedinonehand.She’sonlyfivefootone,sotinythatourclassmatessometimesliketoliftherupforfun,butthere’snothingsmallordelicateaboutherassheplantsherselffirmlytothegroundinfrontofme.
Mymindgoesblank.AllIcanthinkis:Whatishappening?
“Isthere,like,somethingyouwanttosaytomyface?”sheasks,hervoicehard,accusing.“Doyouhaveaproblemwithme,Sadie?”
“What?”Istareather.Thegearsinmyheadarestillturningfrantically,tryingtoproduceasinglereasonwhyRosiewouldgofromcallingmeasainttoactinglikeI’vejustrunoverherdogwithinthespanoftwoclasses.Isthisaboutthenotes?Hadshewantedthemearlier?Butitcan’tjustbethat.Upclose,herlipsarequivering,allthemusclesinherjawclenched“Idon’t—Ofcoursenot.Idon’thaveanyproblemwithyou—”
“Ithoughtyouwerenice.”She’sspeakinglouderandlouder,herfeaturesanimatedwithrage.“Andevenifyoudidhavebeefwithme,youshould’vetoldmeinprivatebeforeblastingitouttoeveryone.”
Ahushhasfallenoverthecourtyard,headsturningtowatch.
“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,”Itellher,halfpleading.Acidchurnsinmystomach.Ihateitwhenpeoplearemadatme.Ihateit,Ihateit,Ican’tstandit.“Iswear,it’sprobablyamisunderstanding—”
“Yeah,sure.”
“I’mnot—”
“Areyoureallygoingtopretenditwasn’tyou?”
“Hey,”Abigailsnaps,steppingbeforeme,herarmraisedtoblockmybody.Buteventhen,I’mshaking,myteethchatteringsoloudlyIcanfeeltheechoreverberatinginmyskull.Iwanttofoldinonmyself,disappearintotheground.Don’tbemad,Iwanttosay,aspatheticasitsounds.Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,butpleasejustdon’tbemad.BecauseitmightbeRosiestandingherenow,butinmyheadit’ssomeoneelse.Footstepsstormingoutthelivingroomandtheslamofthedoor,likeathunderclap,therumbleoftheengine,thenthehorrible,crushingquiet.That’swhathappenswhenpeoplegetangry.Theyleave,permanently,andtheyforgetyou,andthere’snogoingback.
“Didyouordidyounot,”Rosiesays,holdingherphoneupclosetomyface,“writethis?”
Withdifficulty,Itakeintheemailloadedontothescreen,andtheworldfallsawayfromme.
Icanhearmyownraggedbreathing,mybloodpoundinginmyears.
Irecognizeeveryword,becauseIdidwriteit.IcanevenrememberwhereIwas,slumpedagainstmybedroomwallandfuming.Rosiehadsentoutamassemailtoeveryoneintheyearaboutthrowingapartytocelebratewinningthesciencefair.Guessyoucanallcallmeanerdnow,she’djoked.AndnextthingIknewIwastypingoutareplyfasterthanmyfingerscouldkeepup.Thisreply:
Ifyou’regoingtostealsomeone’sprojectandtakeallthecredit,youcouldatleasthavethedecencytonotflauntitaroundlikeyouactuallyhadanythingtodowithit.Sincewhendidyouevencareaboutscience?Sincewhendidyoucareaboutanyofyoursubjectsatall?Youspendmostofclasstextingpeopleandonlineshoppingandwatchingvideosofcatsandthenwhentheassignmentactuallycomesaround,youdecideyoucanjustleechoffmywork?JustbecauseIdidn’tsayanythingatthetimedoesn’tmeanIdidn’tknow—
“Well?”Rosiedemands.
“Itshouldn’tbethere,”Iwhisper,myfingerstingling.Mywholebodyfeelsnumb.Itshouldn’tbethere.Itshouldn’t.Itcan’tbe.Theemailwasmeanttobeinmydrafts,formyeyesonly.Butthetruthisstaringmeintheface.Forgodknowswhatreason,mydraftwassentout,andnotjusttoher.ItwassentviaReplyAll,whichmeanseveryoneincludedinheroriginalemail—everyoneintheyearlevel—wouldhavereceivedit.
Andthenanew,terrifyingpossibilitydawnsonme.
It’ssoterriblethatmyheartshutsdown.Mybloodrunscold.
Ohgod—
Thecrowdshifts,andthelastpersonIwanttoseerightnowappears.Hedoesn’tevenhavetopushhiswaythrough;hesimplywalksforward,hisheadlifted,andeveryonepartsforhim,offeringupallthespaceheneeds.
JuliusbrushespastRosieandAbigaillikethey’renoteventhereandstopsbeforeme.Hiseyesblazeblack,buttherestofhisfeaturesarepureice.Andallatonce,myworstfearsareconfirmed.
“Sadie,”hesays,hisvoicemorearaspthanitsnormaldrawl.Hesaysmynamelikeit’spoison,likeitcostshimsomething.“Comewithme.”
Thenhestalksoff,withoutevenglancingbacktocheckifI’mfollowing.
???
Idofollow.
Idon’twantto,butit’seitherthatorstaybehindandletRosieyellatmewhileeveryonestares.
MyfacefeelsrawwhenJuliusfinallyslowsdownintheschoolgardens.We’reagooddistanceawayfromthecaféandthebasketballcourts,andthere’snobodyelsearound.It’sprettyhere,Iobservethroughmypanic,withivycrawlingoverthefencesandwinterrosesbloominginthebackground.There’sevenasmallpond,glitteringamidthegreenery.Whentheschoolfirstbuiltthegardens,they’dbroughtinaduckaswell,butthenafoxsnuckinatnightandkilledit,andpeopleweresoupsetthatweheldafuneral.Everyoneattended,andoneoftheboysinmyyearlevelwept,andtheduckendedupbeingburiedinthegrass
Actually,IthinktheduckmighthavebeenlaidtorestrightunderthespotI’mstanding.
“I’llhaveyouknow,”Juliusbegins,lowandfurious,“thatIwasnotnamedafteraRomandictator.”
I’msodisoriented,soshakenstill,thatIcanonlysay:“Youweren’t?”
“Absolutelynot.”
“What?.?.?.?wereyounamedafter,then?”
“Aprintingcompany,”hesays,thenpauses,likeheregretsvolunteeringthisinformation.“Butthat’sbesidethepoint.”
Ittakesmeamomenttorealizewhathe’sreferringto.ARomandictator.Myemails.InoneofthemanyangryemailsI’dwrittentohim,Ihadmockedhisname.Yourparentsmustbesoproud,I’dsaid.You’rereallylivinguptoyournamesake.
“No,”Iwhisper,mystomachswoopinglow.“No,no,no,no.No.No—”
“Howlonghaveyoubeenplanningthis?”heasks,pressinginwithbothhisvoiceandhisbody.Heleansforward.Ishiftback,thebristlesofalowthornbushscrapingmyspine.ButIwouldgladlyletthethornspiercemyskinifitcouldhidemefromthismess.Noneofthisshouldbehappening.“Therewereforty-twoemailsaddressedtome.Theearliestdatedbacktonineyearsago.”
“Youreadallofthem?”Suddenly,Iwouldliketotradepositionswiththedeadduck.“I—How?When?”
“You’reaskingme?”hedemands.“Youweretheonewhosentthem.ImaginemysurprisewhenIopenmylaptopatthestartofphysicsclassandmyinboxisfloodedwithemailsfromyou.IfImissedoutoncrucialcontentbecauseIwaspreoccupiedwithyourmanyinsultstomycharacter,Ihopeyouknowthatyou’reentirelytoblame.”
“No,”I’mstilltryingtosay,repeatingmyselfoverandoverasifIcansomehowchangerealitythroughthesheerforceofmydenial.“No”
“Wereyousavingthemupthisentiretime?Waitingfortherightmomenttostrike?”
“Iwasn’t.”
“Youweren’twhat?”AndunlikeRosie,heactuallywaitsformetoanswer.
“I—Ididn’tmeantosendthoseemails,”Itellhim.I’mafraidI’mgoingtofaint,orthrowup,orboth.“Ijust—Alotisgoingonrightnow.ButIdon’tknowhowtheygottoyou.Ireally?.?.?.?Iswear,youhavetobelieveme.Youwereneversupposedtogetthem.”
Hisdarkeyesroamovermyface,andtheairinmylungsstills.Thewayhe’slookingatme—it’slikehecanseeeverything,everyterrible,uglythoughtthat’severflickeredthroughmymind,everyimpulseandfantasy,everylieandinsecurity.“Ibelieveyou,”hesaysatlast,evenly.
I’msosurprisedIalmostcan’tspeak.“You?.?.?.?do?”
“Ibelievethatyou’dneverwantanyoneelsetoreadthoseemails,”hesays,foldinghisarmsacrosshischest,theanglesofhisfacesharpandhostile.“Thatwouldgoagainstyourgoodstudentreputation,right?Youwouldneverbethatbrave,”headdswithascoff.“You’retoofake.”
Itfeelslikesomeone’sheldatorchtomycheeks.Everythinginmeburns.“YouthinkI’mfake?”
“Youdon’tthinkyouare?”Hecockshishead.“Yougoaroundsmilingandcharmingtheteachersandagreeingtoanythinganyoneasksofyoulikeyou’resomekindofangel,andthenyougobackandwriteyoursecretlittleemailsabouthowmuchyouhatemygutsandwishtostrangleme—”
“It’scalledbeingnice,”Icutin.
“Yes,strangulationisverynice.Practicallyapeaceoffering.”
“That’snotwhatI’msaying.”
Helaughs,acold,hardsound.“Youneversaywhatyoumeananyway.”
There’sadangerouspressurebuildingbehindmyeyes.Iblinkfuriously,squeezemyhandsintofists,ignoretheoddknotofpaininmythroat.“Youcan’taccusemeofbeingfakeforhavingbasicmanners.”Ifthiswereanyotherday,Iwouldstophere.Justshortofgettingintoarealconfrontation,ofspeakingmymind.ButthenIrealize,withaburstofhysteria,thatJuliusalreadyknowswhatIthink.There’snopointpretendinganymorewhenhe’sseentheworstofme.It’salmostliberating.“Iknowyoudon’tcareaboutanyoneexceptyourself,andIknowyoucangetawaywithitbecauseyou’reyou,butnotallofusarebuiltlikethat.”
Somethingflashesoverhisface,andIfalter.
MaybeIwenttoofar.MaybeIwastooharsh.AsmuchasIhatehim,theemailsarestillmyfault.“Iamsorry,”Imakemyselfsay,mytonesofteningjustalittle.“Iwasreally,reallyannoyedwhenIdraftedthoseemails,soiftheyhurtyourfeelings—”
AndasifI’vehitaswitch,hisexpressionhardens.Hismouthtugsupinamockingsmile,hisblackeyesglittering.Whenheexhales,Icanseetheghostofhisbreathintheairbetweenus.“Hurtmyfeelings?”Hesaysitlikeajoke.“Youhavefartoohighanopinionofyourself,Sadie.Youaren’tcapableofhurtingme.Onthecontrary?.?.?.?don’tyourememberwhatyouwrote?”
Analarmgoesoffinmybrain.
Danger.
Retreat.
ButI’mfrozentotheground,onlymyheartgallopingfasterandfaster.
“FromwhatIrecall,youwrotetwowholeparagraphsprotestingthecolorofmyeyes,”hedrawls,andIfeelmyselfpalewithhorror.“They’retoodark,likethoseofamonsterfromthefairytales.Likealakeyoucoulddrowninonthecoldestdayofwinter.Mylashesaretoolong,morefittingforagirl’s.Idon’tdeservetobesopretty.Mygazeistoosharp,toointense;youcan’tholditforlongwithoutbeingoverwhelmed.”Hestaresrightatmeashespeaks,likehewantstoseeifit’strue,towitnesshiseffectonmeinrealtime.“Yousaiditmakesitdifficultforyoutoconcentrateinclass.”
I’vealwaysresentedJulius’sperfectmemory,butI’veneverresenteditasmuchasIdointhisinstant.
“That’senough,”Itrytosay.
Butofcoursehewon’tlistentome.Ifanything,heonlyseemsmoredeterminedtocontinue.“Youthenwrotethreehundredwordsrantingaboutmyhands.”Heflexeshislongfingers,examiningthemcarefully.“IhadnoideayoupaidsuchcloseattentiontothewayIheldmypenorgrippedtheviolinboworhowIlookedwhenIwasansweringsomethingontheboard.”
Iunclenchmyjawtodefendmyself,butIcan’tthinkofasinglesoliddefense.Itreallyiseverybitasmortifyingasitsounds.
“YouknowwhatIthink?”hemurmurs,drawingsoclosehismouthskimsmyear,hiscruelfaceblurringinmyvision.Mybreathcatches.Goosebumpsriseovermybareskin.“Ithinkyou’reobsessedwithme,SadieWen.”
Heatlashesthroughme.Imovetoshovehimaway,butmyhandsonlyhithard,leanmuscle,theflatplanesofhischest.Helaughsatme,andIwanttokillhim.Imeanitwitheverycellinmybody.I’veneverwantedtokillhimsobadly.IhatehimsomuchthatIcouldcry.
“Goaway,”Ihiss.
“Youdon’thavetobeembarrassed—”
Ihardlyeverraisemyvoice,butIdonow.“God,justleavemealone.I’msosickofyou.”ItcomesoutevenlouderthanIintended,crackingtheserenityofthegardens,soundingoverthetreetops.Mythroatfeelsscrapedopenwiththewords.
Hefinallystepsawaythen,hisfaceimpassive.“Oh,don’tworry,Iwasalreadyplanningonleaving.”Becauseithastobehischoice,notmycommand.Becausehewon’tevengivemethisonesmallsatisfaction.
Idon’twatchhimgo.InsteadIfumbleformyphoneinmyskirtpocketandloadupmyemails.Maybethey’renotallasterribleasIthink,Iattempttoreassuremyself,thoughitsoundsdelusional,thevoiceofagirlinsistingthefireisn’tthatbigwhenherhouseisburningdownbeforeher.Maybeyou’reoverreacting.Maybethesituationisstillsalvageable.
ButthenIopenmyfirstemailtoJuliusfromnineyearsago,andafewsentencesin,myinsidesturntostone.
youralier,JuliusGong.
whentheChineseteacheraskedusfortheidiumfor“waterandfiredon’tmix,”Iansweredatthesametimeyoudid!!!!!!HowDAREyoutelltheteacheryouweretheonewhogotitrightandnotme??!!!HowDAREYOUtakeMYgoldstickre????Whogaveyoutheright,huh?youdon’tdeservanystickers.youravery,verybadperson,Idon’tcarehowgoodotherpoeplethinkyouare.I’mgonnamakeyouregretthissomuchyou’llcry,justyouwait.
Myawfulspellingateightyearsoldisalmostasembarrassingasthecontentitself.
Desperate,Ipullupanotherone.AReplyAllresponsetoanemailJuliushadsenttotheyearlevelbelow,offeringtosellhisstudymaterialforanoffensivesumonlyadayafterI’dofferedupmynotesforsale.Myspellinghereisbetter.Thecontentis,objectively,worse.
SometimesIdreamaboutthrottlingyou.Iwoulddoitslowly.Iwoulddoitwhenyouweren’tready,whenyouwererelaxed.Iimaginewrappingmyhandsaroundyourlong,palethroatandwatchingthefearbloominyoureyes.Iimagineyourskinturningred,yourbreathingquickeningasyoustruggle.Iwanttowatchyouinpain,upclose.Iwantyoutobegme.Iwantyoutoadmityouwerewrong,thatI’vewon.Maybeyouwouldevensinktoyourkneesforme.Pleadformercy.Thatwouldbefun,buteventhen,thatwouldn’tbeenough—
Ittakesallmyself-restraintnottohurlmyphoneintothepond.
IsqueezemyeyesshutsotightIseestars.Iliketoconsidermyselfasmartperson.Itakegreatprideinknowingthings,likewhetheragraphiswonky,orwhenananswerisaccurate,orwhichessaytopicisgoingtoworkbest.
Butitdoesn’trequiremuchintelligencetoknowthatI’mcompletely,utterlyscrewed.Whentheschoolbellringsfornextclass,I’mbusycalculatinghowlongit’lltaketopermanentlyrelocatetoanothercity.
Icouldgohomenow.Grabmypassportandcallupataxiandbooktheearliestflightoutofhere.IhaveenoughredpocketmoneysavedupinmybankaccountfromeverySpringFestivaltosustainmyselfforatleastamonth.AndinthemeantimeIcouldfindapart-timejob,supportmyselfbytutoringkidsorwaitressingatahotpotrestaurant—I’veheardthatthey’realwayslookingforbilingualemployees.MaybeI’lldyemyhairblonde,getaspraytanandcontacts,changemynameandfakemywholeidentity.NobodyfromWoodvalewouldbeabletofindme?.?.?.
ButevenasIplayoutthisfantasy,myfeetarealreadydraggingthemselvesacrosscampustotheEnglishclassroom.
Ican’thelpit.
It’stoodeeplyingrainedinme,theneedtoobeytherules,toshowupontime,tokeepupmyperfectattendance.I’mlikeoneofPavlov’sdogs,excepteverytimeIhearthebell,myinstinctistofindmydeskandwhipoutmynotebooks
IfeelphysicallysickasIstopoutsidethedoor.I’mshakingallover,myteethknockingagainstthemselvessohardI’mscaredthey’llcrack.Thescentofdisinfectantandshoepolishisoverwhelming,thecrescendoofvoicesgratingmyearslikeshrieks.Ican’tmakeoutwhatthey’resaying,butIknow,withasick,solidpanginmygut,thatthey’retalkingaboutme.
Myfingerstrembleovertheknob.Itrytotakedeepbreaths,butIsuckintoomuchairtoofast,untilI’mlightheadedfromit.
Thebellchimesagain.
Justgoin.
Getitoverwith.
ThesecondIstepinside,there’sabriefbutnoticeablelagintheconversation.Eyesswivelawayfromme,landingonrandomspotsonthewhiteboardorthecracked-openwindowsortheoutdatedposterthatreadsKeepcalmandShakespeareon,whichdoesn’tevenmakeanysense.
AsItakemyseatinthefrontrow,myneckprickleswiththesensationofbeingwatched.I’mawareofmyeverysoundandmovement:mylaptopopening,mychaircreaking,myblazersleevescreasingwhenIpushthemup.
ThenMs.Johnsonwalksin,andtheexpressiononherfacemakesmefreeze.Hermouthispinched,herthinbrowspracticallytwistedintoadoubleknot.She’sbeenteachinghereforsixyears,andonmaternityleaveforthree;inallthetimeI’veknownher,she’sneverlookedthislividbefore.Thenshelockseyeswithme—notinherusualthere’smyfavoritestudentwhoalwaysleadsthegroupdiscussionsway,butinathere’sthebratwhoruinedmydayway.Andallatonce,myconfusionclarifiesintopure,nauseatingdread.
Thosecursedemails.
I’dbeensofixatedonwhatI’dwrittentoJuliusthatI’dforgottenabouttheotherrecipients.RecipientslikemyEnglishteacher.
“Beforewebegindivingintothewonderfulworldofliteraturetoday,”shesays,settingherbriefcasedownonthedeskwithasomewhatviolentthump,“Iwouldliketomakeageneralannouncementthatif,forsomereason,youtakeissuewithagradethatIhavegivenyouinthepast,youcandiscussitwithmeinacivilmanner.”Hergazesnapsbacktome,andIwishmorethananythingthatasinkholewouldopenupandswallowmewhole.
“IwouldalsoliketoemphasizethatIhavebeeninthisteachingbusinessfarlongerthanyouhavebeenstudents,”shecontinues.“WhileEnglishmaybemoresubjectiveanareaofstudythanothers,wenonethelessgradeyoubasedonastrictrubric.Thescorethatyoureceiveintheendisfarfromrandom;ifyoubelievethatyoudeservebetter,thenperformbetter.DoImakemyselfclear?”
Slownodsfromaroundtheclassroom.Behindme,Ihearsomeonewhisper,“Damn,whopissedheroffthismorning?”
“Probablythesamepersonwho’sbeenpissingeveryoneoff.”
There’sapause,andmymindautomaticallyfillsupthesilencewithavividmentalimageofthemgesturingatme.Allthebloodinmybodyseemstobeconcentratedinmyearsandcheeks.
Ipressmyhandstomyburningface,lowerthebrightnessofmyscreenasfardownasit’llgo,andpullupthesentfolderinmyemails.ThenIforcemyselftoreadthroughtheentirechainbetweenmeandMs.Johnson,startingwithmyoriginalemail.Irememberspendinganhourcomposingit,switchingsynonymsaroundtosoundasfriendlyaspossible,andproofreadingitsomanytimesmyeyesbegantowater.
DearMs.Johnson,
Ihopethisfindsyouwell!Iwasjustcuriouswhenourscoresforourtextanalysispaperwillbereleased?IrecallyousayingthattheywouldbemarkedbylastThursday,butit’sbeenaweekandIdon’tseemtohavereceivedanythingyet.Ofcourse,Itotallyunderstandiftheyaren’treadybecauseofhowbusyyouare,andIdefinitelydon’tmeantorushyou—Ionlywantedtodouble-checkincaseImighthavemissedthem!
Thankyousomuchforallyourtime,andsorryforanyinconvenience!
Kindregards,
SadieWen
I’dthenheldmybreathandwaited.Herreplyhadcometwodayslater:
yourscoreis89.5%
SentfrommyiPhone
WitheachnewlineIread,Icanfeelthepastrushingbacktome,myfrustrationmadefreshagain,thescabpickedopen.Itwasaterriblescorebymystandards,justbarelyabovemediocre.Worse,I’dknownthatJuliushadreceiveda95percent,becausehisEnglishteacherwasamorelenientmarker,andthedifferencebetweenuswassignificant.Inexcusable.Unbearable.Wedidn’tevenhavethesamelettergrade.SoIhaddonemybesttobargain.
DearMs.Johnson,
Thankyousoverymuchforlettingmeknow—Itrulyappreciateit!Woulditbepossibleinanywaytoroundmyscoreuptoa90percent,giventhatrightnowit’sonlyoffby0.5percent?Orperhapsthere’sachanceformetodoamake?uppaperorextracredit?Pleaseletmeknow,asthisgrade—andyourclass—isincrediblyimportanttome.Iwouldbehappytodoanythingtochangethis.
Kindregards,
SadieWen
Towhichshe’dsaidonly:
No.Allgradesarefinal.
Andreally,itshould’vestoppedthere.Thatshouldhavebeenthelastofourexchange.I’dpouredoutmyhumiliationandangerintoalate-nightdraftandmovedon.
Untilnow.
Iwincemywaythroughthelatestemail,theheatinmyfaceexpanding.
Ms.Johnson,
I’vegonebackandreadthroughtheessayIsubmitted,andImustsayIdisagreewiththefinalmark.Evenifit’snotworthfullmarks,itshouldatleastbeworththe90percent.Itdoesn’tcostyouanythingtoroundthescoreup,butitcostsmeeverythingtoleaveitthewayitcurrentlyis.Just0.5percent.Zero.Point.Five.Percent.Howunreasonabledoyouhavetobetodenyastudenteventhat?It’sbasicmath.Asyoumightknow,I’mcurrentlyapplyingtoBerkeley,whichhasliterallybeenmydreamschoolsinceIwasachild.Mygradesaremoreimportantthanever,andthatlettergradecouldchangemyentireaverage,whichcouldbethedifferencebetweenanacceptanceandarejection.
Thisisn’tthefirsttimeIhaven’tbeenabletocompletelymakesenseofyourmarkingguidelineseither.Themodelessayyoushowedusinclasswasn’teventhatgood—everytimeitreferencedaquote,itquiteliterallysaid,“Thisisaquotefromthetext.”Italsobeganeverysecondsentencewiththeword“significantly,”which,inmyopinion,reallydetractsfromtheactualsignificanceofthestatement?.?.?.
Twoweeksago,monthsafterIdraftedthatresponse,IfoundoutMs.Johnsonwastheonewhowroteallthemodelessaysshehandedouttous.
Forgetasinkhole,IthinkgrimlyasIsnapmylaptopshutagain,turningmyeyestothehighceiling.Justletthebuildingcollapseontopofmeinstead.
???
Mostunfortunately,thebuildingdoesnotcollapsewithinthelastthreehoursofschool—butmylifedoes.
EverywhereIgo,whispersfollow.Fromthewaypeopleareacting,you’dthinkIwascaughtmurderingamanwithmybarehandsorsomething,butIguessthisisakindofmurder.Asoftoday,SadietheModelStudent,thePerfectSchoolCaptain,iseffectivelydead.
“It’sreallynotthatbad,”Abigailsaysasweheaddownthecorridorstogether.Wehavemathinfiveminutes,butforonce,I’mnotworriedabouttheprospectofapopquiz.Agirlelbowsherfriendandnodsinmydirectionwhenwepass.Theybothdissolveintoloud,hystericalgiggles.
Thequeasyfeelingthat’stakenuppermanentresidenceinmystomachburrowsevendeeper.
“What’ssofunny?”Abigailyellsafterthem,becauseshe’sneverbeenafraidofconfrontation.“Yournewbangs?”
“Herbangsactuallylookedprettycute,”Isaythroughmyfingers.
“Yeah,no,theyreallysuither,”Abigailagreesinalowervoice.“Andokay,look,thesituationisn’tgreat,butI’vehadachancetoreadthroughsomeofthoseemailsyousentout—”
“Youandeveryoneelseinthisschool,”Imutter,raisingmyhandshighertohidemyface.Anothergroupoffriendshavestoppedoutsidethebathroomjusttostareatme,snippetsoftheirconversationfloatingafterus.
“.?.?.?that’sher?.?.?.”
“IheardRosiecompletelyflippedhershitthismorning?.?.?.”
“Yeah,figures.Didyouseewhatshewrote?”
“ForgetRosie—I’dbesopissedifIwereJuliusGong.Like,damn,shereallywentthere—”
Abigailcontinues,louder,clearlyinanefforttodrownthemout.“Ofcoursethetonewasatadharshinplaces,andIfeellikewereallyneedtosetasidesometimeanddissectyourhatredtowardJulius—”
Myeyesclosebrieflywithhorror.“Please,Ibegofyou,don’tmentionhim.”Idon’twanttoeverhearhisnameagainorseehimorberemindedinanywayofhisexistence.Idon’twanttoremembertheheatofhislipsnearmyskin,theglintinhiseyes,themalicedrippingfromhisvoice.
“Fine,butwhatI’msayingis,youdidn’tdoanythingillegal.Youwerejustbeinghonest.IfIwereyou,darling,Iwouldownit.Letthemfearyoualittle.Letthemknowthatyouhaveyourownthoughtsandfeelingstoo.”
“Ijustdon’tunderstandhowithappened,”Itellher,walkingfaster.IfIslowdown,ifIthinktoohard,I’llfallapart.“Iwouldnever,eversendthoseemailsout.Itmusthavebeensomekindofcomputervirus.God,IknewIshouldn’thavedownloadedthosemockpapersfromthatdodgywebsite.Ionlydiditbecausetheyweren’tavailableanywhereelse.”
Abigailchewsherlip.“Well,I?.?.?.”Butwhatevershe’sabouttosaydiesonhertongueasshecomestoanabrupthaltattheendofthehall.
Itdoesn’ttakelongtofigureoutwhy.
Nexttoourshinyawardsdisplaycabinet,filledwithcountlesstrophiesandmedalsforeverythingfromtherowingclubtothechessteamtointerstatedebating,there’saframedphotoofJuliusandme.Wehadtakenitinaprofessionalphotoshootnotlongafterwewereannouncedascocaptains.We’rebothwearingthefullschooluniform,histiefastened,myblackhairpulledintoatightbun,ourbadgespinnedtothecenterofourpockets.Hehashisarmscrossedlooselyoverhischest,hisairofsuperioritypalpableeventhroughtheglassframe.I’msmilingmorethanheis,thefrecklesscatteredovermyfullcheeksobviousinthelightofthecameraflash,mythicklashessuccessfullycurledtolookevenlonger.
Thephotographerhadrequestedthatwestandclosertogetheruntilweweretouching,butneitherofuswaswillingtobudgeanyfarther,sothere’sstillagoodinchofdistancebetweenus.
Andnow,inthatgap,someone’sdrawnared,jaggedlineallthewaydownthemiddle.
They’vealsoaddedaspearinmyhand,andaswordinhis.Insteadofcocaptains,welooklikewe’regoingtowaragainsteachother.Likewebelongontheposterofsomelow-budgetsuperheromovie.
“Ohmygod,”Ibreathe.
Abigailpursesherlips.“Don’tpanic—”
Ipanic.
“Thisisawful,”Ihissundermybreath,pressingtwohandstotheglasslikeIcansomehowreachthroughandscrubthephotoclean.“Thislookssobad.Thismakesuslooksobad.”
“Iknowwhatyoumean,butifithelps,youbothactuallylookprettyhot—”
“Abigail.”It’sahalfcryofprotest,halfyellofdistress.IhatethatIevenneedtobecomforted;I’malwaystheonewhocomfortsotherpeople.Ihateneedinganythingfromanyone.
“Okay,okay,gotit.”Shegrabsmyarmsandgentlysteersmeawayfromthecabinet,speakinginthesamesoothingtoneI’veheardmeditationinstructorsadopt.“Look,mydarling,itisn’ttheendoftheworld.Peopleareonlyreactingthiswaybecausethey’resurprised.Like,everyonewasundertheassumptionthatyoutwoweregettingalongjustfine,especiallysinceyou’recocaptainsandall,andnowthatthere’sdrama,they’regoingtolatchontoit.Butit’llblowoveronitsowninacoupledaysorso.”
“Areyousure?”Iaskher,scanningthearea.Intheseaofschoolbagsandbindersandblue-and-whiteblazers,morecuriousgazescatchonmine,thenslideovertothevandalizedphoto.Mythroatfillswithhumiliation.
“I’mveryconfident,”Abigailreassuresme.Butsheblinksrapidlywhenshesaysit,thewayshedoeswhenshe’slying.Thebakeryisusuallycrowdedafterschool.
Ipushthroughthedoorsandletthefamiliarscentofcoconutandbutterandsweetmilkenvelopme.Itsmellslikehome.Feelslikeittoo.Ourbakeryisnestledrightinthemiddleoftown,nexttotheKoreanbarbecueplaceeveryonegoestointhewinterandtheAsiangrocerywithitsnever-endingsupplyofWangWanggummycandiesandfishsauceandbraisedbeefinstantnoodles.Alittlefartheroutisthetheater,whereyoucanfindthelatestwuxiafilmsandChineserom-comsandsci?fifilms,andthedimsumrestaurantthatgivesoutfreenewspaperstotheelderly,andthenailsalonthat’lldoyourmanicureforfreeifyou’resufferingthroughabreakup.
Allofitisasintimatetomeasthepathtomyownhouse.
Idropmybagdownbythecounterandsqueezepastthecustomerslinedupwiththeirtraysofbread.Custardswirls,tunabuns,greenteamochi,jamdoughnuts.Tinycakeslayeredwithdicedstrawberriesandkiwifruitandfresh-whippedcream.NormallyIwouldwaituntileveryonewasgonetosneakoneoftheleftovercupcakesfromtheshelves,buttodayIfeeltoosicktoevencontemplateeating.
“Catch!”
Ispinaroundjustintimetoseethebrightblurofcolorstreakingtowardme.Byinstinct,myhandsshootupandgrabthebasketballsecondsbeforeitcansmashmynose.
“Awarningwouldhavebeennice,”IgrumbleasMaxwalksuptome.
“Yeah,that’swhyIsaidcatch,”Maxsays,grabbingthebasketballbackonlytospinitononefinger.Hisblack,bristlyhairissoshinythatatfirstIthinkhe’sjustshoweredbut,uponcloserinspection,istheresultofadisgustingamountofhairgel.
“Aren’tyoumeanttobeoncampusrightnow?”Iask.Maxhasnevershownmuchinterestinourbakery,buthe’sbeenvisitingevenlesseversincehemovedintohiscollegedorm.Wheneverhedoeschoosetopopin,it’sbecauseheclaimstobetoolazytocookforhimself.“Surelyevenyousportsstudentshaveactualclassestoattend.”
Heshrugs.“Skippedthem.Thelectureswereboring.”
“Youcan’tjust—Youcan’tskipyourclasses.”Notwhenyourtuitioncostsalmostasmuchaswhatthebakerymakesinayear,I’mtemptedtoadd,butdon’t.Mybrother’slifeisasimple,happyone,comprisingjustfourthings:breakfast,lunch,dinner,andbasketball.It’sthelifeIwantforhim,thelifeIsworetomyselfI’dlethimkeep,evenwithourdadgone.
“SureIcan,”hesayswithaneasysmile.“Everyonedoesit.Andit’senoughhavingoneperfectstudentinthefamily,yeah?”
Myexpressionthreatenstowaver,mystomachcoilingarounditself.Here,inthewarmthofthebakery,theemaildisasterdoesn’tevenseemtotallyreal.Itrytoswallow,butitfeelslikeswallowingahardpillwithoutwater.
“Where’sMom?”Iaskhim,sidesteppingthesubject.It’samiraclemyvoiceholdsstrong.
“She’sintheback.”
Heboundsafterme,hummingsomesortofvideogamesoundtrackasIslipthroughthekitchenandfindherinside.She’sleaningagainstthewallbythebins,usingabroomtosupportherselflikeshedoesn’thavetheenergytocarryherownweight,hercomplexionpalebeneaththeflickeringfluorescentbulbs,thehollowsunderhereyesdark.Myheartpinches.Shelooksexhausted,butthat’snothingnew.
“Here,Icansweepthisplaceupforyou,”ItellherinthecheeriestvoiceIcanmuster.
Sheblinks.Shakesherhead.“No,no.I’mokay.Youfocusonyourschoolwork.”
“Idon’thavemuchschoolwork,”Ilie,evenasmymindflipsthroughallmytasksfortonight,myassignmentsduetomorrow,thearticlesIstillneedtowrite.
Momhesitates,herbonyhandstighteningoverthebroom.
“Giveittome,”Isayfirmly,yankingthebroomawayfromher.“I’vegotit.”
ButMaxelbowsme.“Holdup.Didn’tyousayyouweregoingtohelpmepracticemypasses?”
He’sright.Ididpromisehimthat.
“IcanpracticewithyouwhileIcleanup,”Isay.“Justdon’tknockanythingover.”
“Areyoucertainyoucanhandleit?”Momasks,frowningatme.NeitherofusevenentertainsthepossibilityofMaxhelpingwiththecleaning.Thelasttimehedid,hemanagedtoknockoverallthebinsandspenthourspickingpiecesofeggshellofftheground.“Don’tyouwanttorestfirstor—”
“Mom,Ipromise,it’snoproblem.”IlaughatherwithsucheaseIalmostbelievemyselfandpushherlightlytowardthedoor.Icanfeeltheridgesofherspineunderneathmyfingertips.There’snomeat,onlyboneandmuscle,theresultsoflabor.
Assoonasshe’soutofsight,Istartsweepingonautopilot.Halftheblistersonmypalmsandfingersarefromgrippingthepentoolong.Theotherhalfarefromthis.
Besideme,Maxstartsdribblingtheball.“Ready?”heasks.
Itakemylefthandoffthebroom.“Okay.Go.”Thebasketballshootsacrossthespaceandlandsperfectlyinmypalm.Ibounceitafewtimesbeforetossingitovertohim,whichhecatchesjustaseasily.
“Damn,notbad.Notbadatall,”hesays.“Youshouldjointheteam.”
Irollmyeyes.“Noneedtoflatterme.”
Thebasketballcomesflyingback.“Forreal,”heinsists,thenpauses.“Well,youmightneedtobuildsomemuscle—”
Thistime,Iaimthebasketballathisface.“I’mstrongerthanyouare.”
“No,I’mclearlythestrongestinthefamily,”heprotests.“Remember,evenDadsaid—”
Webothfalter.Theballthudstothefloorandrollsofftowardtheshelvesaswebothdoourbesttoactlikenothing’shappened,likehedoesn’texist.Butit’simpossible,likeattemptingtocoverupamurderscenewithnapkins.It’seasiertorememberhowthingsusedtobe,thosehazy,long-goneafternoonswhenmydadandMaxandIwouldhangaroundinoursmallbackyardandraceoneanotherandplaybasketballuntildinnertime—
No.Istopmyselfbeforethenostalgiacansneakuponme.Irefusetomisshim,towanthimbackinourlives.
“Youdoneedmorepractice,”Isaymildly.
Maxscramblestoretrievetheball,andwhenwestartpassingitbackandforthagain,we’rebothcarefulnottobringhimup.Still,thetopicnagsatmymind.NotforthefirsttimeIwonderifheblamesmeforwhathappenedtoo.Ifthat’sthereasonforthefaintbutalwaysnoticeablefrictionbetweenus,whyheonlycomesbackonceeveryweekorso,whyhalfourconversationsseemtolapseintosilence.
Bythetimewefinish,thesunhasalreadydisappeared.Isavealltheleftoverbreadinamassivecontainerforourneighbors:theDuongs,whobothworktwojobstofeedtheirfivechildren;theoldnainaiwho’sbeenlivingalonesinceherpartnerpassedawaythreewintersago,andonlyspeaksafewsentencesofEnglish;theHenan-borndivorcéewhoalwaysbringsusfreshlemonspluckedfromthetreeinherownyard.Imakesuretoaddafewextraslicesofstrawberriestothecakesbeforeweclosethestore.
Thenthethreeofussqueezeontothelatebushome,thebreadbalancedonmylap,mybulkyschoolbagcrammedundermyarm,Max’sbasketballcradledinhis.Theairinsidesmellslikeplasticandperfume,andthere’sakidsittingbehindmewhohasdecidedtoplaykickballwiththebackofmyseat.
Thud.
Thud.Thud.
Irritationflaresupinmythroat.
Ignoreit,Itellmyself.It’snotworthmakingafussover,andit’llbeyourstopsoonanyway.Iturnmyattentiontothesceneryasitunfoldsoutsidethewindow.Thestreetlightsareslowlyreplacedbyoldoaks,grayturningtogreen,thespacebetweenhousesgrowingwiderandwideruntilwe’refullyinthesuburbs—
Thud.Thud.Thud.
Itakeadeepbreath.Squeezemyfistsagain,trytorelaxeachmuscleinmyfingersonebyone.Butmyfistsstayclenched,andwithoutanythingbettertodistractme,theimagesI’vebeentryingtokeepatbayalleveningflashthroughmyhead.Juliusgreetingtheauntieswithhisfakesmileandfalsecharm.Georginabackingawayfromourgroupproject.Juliuslaughingwiththegirlnexttohim.Rosiestorminguptome,hereyesnarrowedinaccusation.Juliusleaningforwardinthegardens,thescratchofhisvoiceagainstmyear:Ithinkyou’reobsessedwithme,SadieWen.Histwistedsmirk,hiscold,cuttinggaze.
Thud.Thud—
“Canyoustopthat?”Isnap,whippingmyheadaround.
Thekidfreezes.Mymotherfreezestoo;shelooksstunned.
I’mshockedmyself.Thewordsdon’tfeelliketheycouldhavecomeoutofmyownmouth.It’slikesomebodyhasremovedeveryfilterI’vefixedinplace,clearedoutadirectpathfrommybraintomylips.
Then,tomyabsolutehorror,thekidburstsintonoisytears.
Ohgod.
Ohmygod.Ijustmadeateeny-tinyhumancry.Whatiswrongwithmetoday?
“S?sorry,”Imumble,heatrushingupmyneck.Thepassengersaroundusareallstaringatme,probablywonderingwhatkindofmonsterIam.Icouldn’tbemorerelievedwhenthebusrollstoastoponourstreet.Igrabmycontainerofbreadandhopoffwithrecordspeed.Thechildisstillwailingastheautomaticdoorsfoldshut.
Inthefollowingquiet,Maxmakesalowwhistlingsound.“Damn,Ireallythoughtyouweregoingtopunchthekidforasecondthere.Kindofscary,notgoingtolie.”
Mompeersoveratme.“Iseverythingokay,Sadie?”
Ipushdownthelumpinmythroat.“Yeah,ofcourse,”Isaybrightly.“I’msorry.Iwasjust?.?.?.?annoyed.AndIwasn’tgoingtopunchanyone,”Iadd,shootingMaxalook.
Shestudiesmeamomentlonger,thensniffs.Iwaitforhertotellmeoff.“Well,IknowI’mnotsupposedtoadmitthisbecauseI’manadult,butIwantedtoyellatthatyoungboytoo.Comeon,”sheadds,liftingthecontainerfrommyarmsandturningtowardourhouse.It’srecognizableeveninthedarkness,withitsjade-greenroofandthefairylightsstrungupoverthefrontporch.“Youshouldshowerandsleepearly.Youstillhaveschooltomorrow.”
Schooltomorrow.
Thereminderhitsmelikeamallettothestomach.Idon’tknowhowI’mgoingtosurviveit.NothinggoodhaseverhappenedintheMainHallbefore.
It’swherewetakeourfinalexamsandwherewewereforcedtositthroughunbearablelecturesonourchangingbodiesandwhereRayoncedroppedabananabehindthepodiumandtheratsmanagedtofinditbeforetheteacherscould.
SoI’minstantlyapprehensivewhenwe’redirectedtothehallrightafterlunch.
“What’sgoingon?”IaskAbigailaswefindseatsattheveryback.Theentireroomisbasicallydesignedtobedepressing,withitsdrab,windowlesswallsanduncomfortableplasticchairs.Awholeyearaftertheincident,thestenchoftherottenbananastilllurksaroundlikethevillainfromamajormoviefranchise—impossibletotrackdownandneverfullykilled.
“Iwashopingyou’dknow,”Abigailsaysbetweenloudbitesofherkayatoast.ThestickynoteonherlunchboxtodayreadsKEEPSHINING!“Don’tschoolcaptainsgetadvancenoticeofthisstuff?”
“Notthis,”Isay,scanningtheroomforclues.There’salaptopsetupneartheprojector,andathermossittingonthehardwoodfloor,whichmeanswe’regettingapresentationofsomesort.Then,withoutmeaningto,mygazeslidestoJuliusinthesecondrow—justasheliftshisheadandglowersatme.
Ashockgoesthroughmybodyatthevenomouslookonhisface.I’dhopedhisangerwoulddissipateafteryesterday,butitseemstohaveonlyfermented.
It’snotjusthim.Wordaboutmyemailsmusthavespreadtoeveryoneinourclassbynow.WhenIsitdown,thegirlnexttomescowlsandscootsherchairawayasifI’mthesourceofthebananasmell.
Mystomachburns.
Thesoundofclackingheelsdistractsmebrieflyfrommymisery.Aserious-lookingwomanaroundmymom’sagestridesuptothefront,herblondehairpulledintoabunsotightIpityherscalp,aschoolvisitorbadgepinnedtohertweedjacket.SAMANTHAHOWARD,itsays,underneathablurryphotoofher.Shedoesn’tsayanything,justsurveysuslikewe’vecollectivelycommittedacrimeagainstherfamilypet,andpressesabutton.Theprojectorflickerson,castingaslideshowontothegiantwhitescreenbehindher.
Itakeoneglanceatthetitle—“TheDigitalStudent:OnlineEtiquetteandCybersafety”—beforemystomachplummets,mymiseryreturningwithfullintensity.
“Yourschoolcalledmeinlightof?.?.?.?recentevents,”shebegins,confirmingmyveryworstsuspicions.“They’veaskedthatIgiveyouarefresheronhowweshouldconductourselvesthroughdigitalcommunicationchannels.”
Thirtypairsofeyesinstantlyflickertome.
I’vedoneit,Ithinktomyself.I’vediscoveredhellonearth,andit’srighthere.
“Now,youmightbeundertheimpressionthatsinceyou’retheyoungergenerationandyougrewupwithyourlittletabletsandlaptopsandiPadsandgadgets,youdon’tneedanyadvice,right?Youknowexactlywhatyou’redoing,right?Wrong,”shesays,soloudlyafewpeoplejump.“Beforewedivein,let’shaveaquickshowofhands:Howmanyofyouinthisroomhaveasocialmediaaccountofsomekind?”
There’sabriefmoment’shesitation.Theneverysinglehandintheroomgoesintotheair.
“That’sverydisappointing,”SamanthaHowardsaysonaheavysigh.“Notsurprising,butdisappointing.Andtellme:Howmanyofyoupostfrequentlyontheseaccounts?Videosandphotosandthelike?”
Afewhandsarelowered,butmostofthemstayup.
“Thisisyourfirstmistake,”Samanthatellsus.“Everythingyoupostwillleaveapermanentmarkontheinternet.Everycomment,everyinteraction,everyselfie.”Shespitsoutthewordlikeit’sthenameofsomeonewhooncepoisonedhermorningtea.“Aftertoday’ssession,Ihopeyouallgobackandprivateyourposts.Betteryet,deleteallyouraccountscompletely.Keepyourcontenttoyourself—”ShepausesmidsentenceandblinksatAbigail.“Yes?Doyouhaveaquestion?”
Abigailstandsup,herexpressionalmostasgraveasSamantha’s,herplatinumhairswingingoverhershoulder.“Yes,justone.”Sheclearsherthroat.“Whatdowedoifwe’rereallyfeelingourselves?”
Snortsoflaughtertravelaroundtheroom.
Samanthafrowns.“Thisisnotajoke.Thisisamatterofsecurity—”
“Idon’tthinkyou’reunderstanding,”Abigailsaysinnocently.“I’mtalkingabout,like,reallyfeelingourselves.Haveyouneverdrawntheperfectcatwingandfelttheutmostneedtoshareitonline,forittobesavedinperpetuity,tobecomeyourlastinglegacy?Don’tyouthinkit’sacrimenottoshowtheworldthenewblackdressIboughtandhowgooditmakesmyfigurelook?”Shefinishesherlittlespeechbyfallingbackinherseatandgrinningatme.
AndthoughIreallyshoulddisapprove,Ihavetobitemyliptostopfromlaughingaswell.PartlybecauseIknowwhyshe’sdoingthis.Abigailhasnevermindedbeingdisruptiveinclass,butshe’salwaysmoredisruptivewhenshesensesthatI’minabadmood.It’sherwayofsimultaneouslyraisingmybloodpressureandmyspirits.
“Iassureyou,younglady,that’snotthekindoflegacyyouwanttoleave,”Samanthasays,hernostrilsflaring.“ThisisexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout.Iknowyourprefrontalcortexeshaven’tfullydevelopedyet,butyouhavetostartthinkingbeyondyourimpulsesinthemoment.Yourdigitalfootprintcouldaffectyourschoolrecords,yourfuturecolleges,yourfuturejobs.Let’salltakealookatexamplesofwhatyoushouldbeavoiding,shallwe?”
Shemovesontothenextslide,whichisamock?upofanemail.
DearBrady,
Yourpersonalitysucks,yourfacesucks,andyourexistencesucks.Idon’tlikeyouverymuchatall.Youshouldrunoutinfrontofatrain.
Theroom’sattentionswivelsbacktome.
Iduckmyhead,mywholefacered-hotwithhumiliation.Eventhoughit’snotmyemail,thereferenceisclear—and,evidently,deliberate.
“Cansomebodytellmewhat’swrongwiththis?”Samanthaasks.Nobodyvolunteers,andforafewincrediblynaive,foolishseconds,IthinkImightbesafe.Wecangetbacktothatnicelectureonhowpostingselfieswillresultinourinevitablemurder.ButthenSamanthalooksoutattheroom.“Participationisimportant.Ifwe’refeelingshy,I’llpicksomeoneatrandom.Howabout?.?.?.”
Solongasit’snotJulius,Iprayinmyhead,myfingernailsdiggingintomyskirt.Justdon’tletitbeJulius—
“You,”Samanthasays,andpointsrightatJulius.
MaybeIshouldrunoutinfrontofatrain.
“Me?”Juliusrepeatsasourclassdissolvesintofuriouswhispers.Whenherisesfromhisseat,hisbackstraight,handsinhispockets,I’mofferedanunwantedviewofhissideprofile.Foronce,hedoesn’tlooksmugaboutbeingcalledontoansweraquestion.
“Yes.What’stheproblemwiththisexample?”Samanthaprompts.“Shouldsomeone—nomatterhowthey’refeeling—sendoutanemaillikethis?”
Julius’seyescuttome,quickaslightning,coldasice.“Well,Idon’tthinkanyoneshouldeverwriteanemaillikethistobeginwith.It’sremarkablyimmature,andasignofthesender’sunresolvedangerissues—nottomentionlowself-esteem.”
“Butwhatiftherecipientdeservedit?”
Idon’trealizeI’vestoodupandspokenuntileveryonewhirlsaroundtostareatme,theconcentratedweightoftheirattentionlikeahammertothestomach.ButI’monlystaringbackatoneperson.Julius.Thetightnessofhisjaw,thedarknessofhiseyes.
“Soyou’resayingit’stherecipient’sfault,”Juliussayswithalaugh.“Wow.Sure.”
Okay,stoptalking,thelogicalpartofmybraintellsme.Shutupandsitdownrightnow.
Butmymouthseemstohavecuttieswithmybrain.“I’mjustsayingthatmaybeiftherecipientwerealittlelessinfuriatingandwasn’tquitesoadamantontormentingthesenderforyearsonend—”
“Maybeifsomeoneweren’tsosensitive—”
“It’scalledhavinganormalhumanreaction.Emotions,youunderstand.Iknowthatmaybeaforeignconcept—”
“Excuseme,youtwo,”Samanthacallsterselyfromthepodium.“Thisisn’tthepointoftheactivity.”
Webothdosomethingwewouldneverdarewithateacher—notevenanartteacher—weignoreher.
“Youdidn’tseemtocaresomuchaboutanyoneelse’sreactionwhenyouwerewritingtheemails,”Juliussays,hisvoicerising.
“Again,Ididn’tmeanforthemtogetout,”Isnap.I’mverydistantlyawarethatthehallhasgonedeadquiet,thateveryone’swatching,listening,witnessingthis.Someone’sholdinguptheirphone.Butnothingregistersexcepttheangerpumpingthickthroughmyblood,thedesiretodestroytheboystandingacrossfromme.“Iwasjustventing—”
“Haveyoueverheardofadiary,Sadie?Itmightbeaworthyinvestment.”
“Don’tdisgustme.Iwouldneverwritediaryentriesaboutyou—”
Hecockshishead.Smileswithhislipsbutnothiseyes.“Andyetit’sclearI’mallyoueverthinkabout.”
“Thinkaboutkilling,”Iamend,grindingmyteethtogether.Icouldkillhimrightnow.
“See?”Juliusgesturestome,asifdeliveringaspeech.“ThisiswhatImeanabouttheunresolvedangerissues.”
“Youmeanthatyou’rethesourceofthem?Becauseyeah,you’dbecorrect—”
“Silence!”Samanthayells.
IsnapmymouthshutandpullmyattentionawayfromJulius.
Itcouldjustbetheunflatteringartificiallightsinthehall,butSamantha’sfacehasturnedanawfulshadeofgray.Theveinsinherforeheadareonopendisplay,sovisibletheycouldbeusedasadiagramforfirst-yearpremedstudents.“Never,”sheseethes,“inallmyyearsofvisitingschoolshaveIcomeacrossstudentsso—sorudeandundisciplined.Thisbehaviorisabsolutelyunacceptable.”Shestabsafingertowardourbadges.“Andyou’remeanttobetheschoolcaptains?Thisisthekindofexampleyouchoosetosetforyourpeers?”
Ihadn’tthoughtitpossibletotasteanynewflavorsofhumiliation,butapparentlyIcan.Theskinonmycheeksandthebackofmyneckissohotititches.
“Beforecominghere,allI’dheardaboutWoodvalewashowit’soneofthetopacademicinstitutionsinthestate.Selective.Prestigious.”Sheyanksoutthecordfromherlaptopasshespeaks.“Butthisis—well,it’sjustbeyonddisappointing.”Picksupherthermosfromthefloor.“I’mafraidIsimplycannotgoon.”Liftsadramatichandtoherchestlikeanactressinatragicplay.“I’llhavetoendthisearly.”
Withthat,shemarchesoutthedoor,afewsecondsofsilencefollowingclosebehindher.
ThenGeorginasays,hopefully,“Doesthismeanwegetafreeperiod?”
Beforeanyonecancelebrate,thedoorswingsopenoncemore,andSamanthacomesmarchinginagain.Hercomplexionhaschangedfromgraytocrimson.“IjustrememberedthatIwon’tbepaidthespeaker’sfeeifIdon’tstayforthefullsession.”Shesniffsandplugsherlaptopbackintotheprojector,continuingtothenextslideasthoughthatbriefepisodeneverhappened.“Now,wherewerewe?Ah,yes,yourdigitalfootprint?.?.?.”Twoyearsago,ourfinalassignmentforEnglishwasaclassdebate.
Juliushadbeenplacedontheaffirmativeteam,andI’dbeenplacedonthenegative,thebattlelinesdrawnearly.Inthelead?uptoit,I’dspentweekspreparing,divingintoacademicarticles,researchingeverythingonourtopic:whetherhumancloningshouldbelegalized.Ontheday,myheadwasonfire.Iwasready.MostofthetimeitseemedtomethatIwasonlypretendingtobesmart,likeanactorwhohastoplayaneurosurgeon.WhatmatteredwasconvincingotherpeopleIwasintelligent.
ButasIstooduptomakemypoints,Ifeltittoo.Mymindwhirred,assmoothandfastasamachine,andmyhandsremainedperfectlysteadyoverthecuecards.Ididn’tevenneedtolookatthem.IwassofamiliarwithJulius’slogicthatIcouldpredicthisargumentsandcounterargumentsinadvance,couldspotthegapsinhisreasoning,prodattheinconsistenciesinhisevidence.IremembertheuncommonquietoftheclassroomasIspokeclearlyandcalmly,keepingmyeyesonhimthewholetime.Nothingcouldfazeme.WhenIfinished,therewasabeatofstunnedsilence,andI’dheardsomeonewhisperwhoainatoneofgenuineawe.Thentheapplausehadcome,buildingintoacrescendo,cheersrisingovertheclaps.Itwasoneofthemostsatisfyingmomentsofmylife.
I’dendedupwinningnotonlythedebate,butBestSpeaker.Whenthefinalresultswereannounced,Juliushadglaredatme,hisjawlocked,hiseyesblazingwithanintensitythatalmoststartledme.I’dalwaysbeenconfidentthatIhatedhimalittlemorethanhehatedme—butinthatmoment,Iwasn’tsosure.
It’sthesameresentfulexpressionhe’swearingthenextmorningwhenIbumpintohimoutsidethemathclassroom.
Literally.
I’mabouttoheadinsidetheexactsecondhestepsout.Myfacecrashesstraightintohisshoulder.
Ilurchbackward,rubbingmynose,certainhe’sgoingtomakeajibeaboutmypoorcoordinationordemandanapologyormockmefortheemailsagain,butinsteadhefixesmewiththatawful,sharplookandsays:“We’vebeenaskedtoseetheprincipal.”
Myheartstopsbeating.
“What?”Ichokeout.Myfirsthalfhope,halfinstinctisthathe’spullingaprankonme,messingwithmyhead,thatthisishisperversemeansofrevenge.Heshouldknowthisismyworstfear.
Butthenhemovespastme,downthehallinthedirectionoftheprincipal’soffice,andmyheartbeatstartsupagainattwiceitsnormalspeed.
“Wait,”Icall,runningafterhim.Heslowsdownslightlywithoutturningback.“Wait,you’rebeingserious?Wehavetogorightnow?”
“No,Sadie,weareexpectedtoseehimtwenty-threeyearsdowntheline,”hesays,hisvoicesodryandscathingitcouldcutopenbone.“Iamonlytellingyounowsothatyouhavesufficienttimetoprepare.”
I’mtoopanickedtothinkofacomeback.“But—didhesaywhy?”
“Youareawfullyperceptivetoday.Whydoyouthink?Whateventhasoccurredinthepastforty-eighthoursthatissoterribleitwarrantsanin?personmeetingwiththeprincipalhimself?”
Yetevenashe’stalking,theanswerhasalreadycometome.Theemails.Ofcourseitcanonlybethat.Ichokedownahystericallaugh.ThelasttimeI’dvisitedtheprincipal,ithadbeenwithJuliusaswell,butitwasbecausewehadbothbrokentherecordforhavingthehighestgrade-pointaverageinthehistoryoftheschool.Aremarkableachievement,accordingtotheprincipal,andsomethingIoughttohavecelebrated,exceptouraverageswereexactlythesame,allthewaytotheseconddecimal.I’dleftthatmeetingpromisingmyselfIwouldboostmyaveragesoitwashigherthanhis.
MaybeJuliusisrememberingthesamething,becausehisupperlipcurls.“Thisisafirstforme,yourealize.I’veneverbeencalledtotheprincipalforanythingotherthangoodnews.”
“Afirstforyou?”Ihiss.Classshouldhaveofficiallystartedbynow,sothehallwaysareallempty,saveforus.Itfeelsstrangetowalkpasttherowsandrowsofclosedclassrooms.Throughthenarrowglasspanesinthedoors,Icanseetheteachersmarkingofftheroll,studentsshufflingthroughtheirnotes.“I’veliterallyneverbeenintroublebefore—”
“Beforetwodaysago,”hecutsin,“inwhichyoumanagedtooffendhalfthefacultyandstudentbodyinonego.Oh,andyesterday,whenyoudecidedtostartapettyargumentwithmeinfrontoftheentireclass.It’saprettyimpressivefeat,ifyouthinkaboutit.Youalwaysliketooutdoyourself,don’tyou?”
“Youweretheonewhowasarguingwithme.”
“Well,wewouldn’thavebeeninthatpositioninthefirstplaceifnotforyouremails.Thankstoyou,theentireschool’stalkingaboutus.It’sanarchy.Anddidyouseewhattheydrewoverourcaptains’photo?Therewasredmarker.”Hepausesforemphasis.“Onmyface.”
IdoubthewouldlookthisincensedifsomeonehadvandalizedtheMonaLisa
“IfIwereyou,”hecontinues,“I’dbethinkingupaverygoodexplanationrightnow.Evenifyoudidn’tsendtheemails,you’retheonewhowrotethemanddraggedbothofusintothismess—”
“Ohmygod,shutup.”
Hefaltersbriefly,thengivesmeanoddsortofsmile,likehe’scaughtmedoingsomethingIshouldn’t,likeheknowsmebetterthanIwanthimto.Myskintinglesfromtheunwelcomeattention.“Yourlanguageturnscruderbytheday.Decidedtodropthemodelstudentactforgood?”
“Seriously,Julius,”Isaythroughclenchedteeth,liftingmyhand,“ifyoudon’tstoptalking,I’ll—”
“Hitme?”Hissmilesharpens,asthoughinchallenge.It’sasmilethatsaysyouwouldn’tdare.“Chokeme,thewayyoufantasizedaboutinyouremail?”
Immediately,myskingoessohotIwouldn’tbesurprisedifyoucouldseesteamrisingfrommybody.“Areyouevergoingtoletitgo?”
“No,”hesays,decisive.“Notuntilwe’reeven.”
“WhatdoIhavetodo,then?”Idemand.“Forustobeeven?”
Hestops,hisblackeyesrakingmyface.Iforcemyselftomeethisgaze,eventhougheverythinginmewantstorunaway.“I’llletyouknowhowyoucanmakeituptome,”hesays,lettingthewordssimmerinthespacebetweenus,stretchingoutthethreat.“Butfirst,Ihavetoseehowbadthedamageis.”
Aspikeofpure,colddreadrunsthroughmewhenIrealizewe’vereachedtheprincipal’soffice.Eventhoughit’sinthesamebuilding,itfeelslikeacompletelyseparatespace.Thepaintonthewallsisnewer,thewindowswider,theplaquethatreadsPRINCIPALMILLERpolishedgold.Thesingledoortohisofficeismadeoftintedglass,thekindthatservesasaone-sidedmirror.IimaginePrincipalMillerstaringatusfromhisdesk,watchingmeasIwipemysweatyhandsonmyskirt.Thethoughtonlymakesmypalmsclammier.
Juliusstaresdownatthedoorknob,butmakesnomovement.
“Whyaren’tyougoingin?”Iask.
“Whycan’tyougoinfirst?”Hesaysitcoolly,asifI’mtheonewho’sbeingridiculous,butthere’sawarinesstohisexpression.Hiseyeskeepslidingtothedoorlikeitmightopenupthegatesofhell.
He’snervous,Irealize.IwouldtakemuchgreaterdelightinthisdiscoveryifIdidn’tfeellikethrowingupmybreakfastalloverthewhiterugatmyfeet.
“Justgoin,”Iurgehim.
Hedoesn’tbudge.“Yougo.”
“Whatareyousoscaredof?”
“I’mnotscared,”hesays,activelybackingawayfromthedoornow.“Ijustdon’twanttobethefirsttostepinside.”
Imakeasoundhalfwaybetweenasnortandasigh.“Thisissochildish—”
“You’rebeingchildish.I’mbeingchivalrous.”
“Right,”Isay,rollingmyeyessofarIcanalmostseethebackofmyskull.“Becauseyou’resuchagentleman.”
“Iam.”
“Openthedoor,Julius.”
“No,you—”
“Comein,”agravellyvoicecallsfrominside.
Istartle,mypulseskyrocketing.Ittakesmeamomenttorecover,anothermomenttoshovethedooropenonmyown,cursingJuliussilentlyinmyhead.
PrincipalMillerisrecliningbackinhisleatherseat,spinningaballpointpenwithonehand,holdingatakeawaycoffeecupintheother.Thewholeofficesmellslikecoffee.Thereadinglampbesidehimisapale,clinicalwhitethatremindsmeofhospitalwaitingrooms,thelightglancingoffhisbaldhead.
“Hi,PrincipalMiller,”Imanage,tryingtoreadhisexpression.It’spointless,liketryingtofindapatterninablankwall.Hisdarkeyesaredevoidofemotion,thespacebetweenhisthickbrowssmooth.“You?.?.?.?Youaskedforus?”
Inresponse,hemerelygesturestothetwoseatsacrossthedeskfromhim.
ThechairisstillwarmwhenIsitdown,andIcan’thelpthinkingaboutthelastpersonwhowasinhere.Maybetheywereexpelled,orgivendetention,ormaybetheywerebeingcongratulatedoncominginfirstplaceinanationalequestriancompetitionorfindingacureforeczema.That’sthethingaboutbeingcalledbytheprincipal—youknowit’seitherreallygoodnewsorreallybadnews.
Juliustakeshisplaceonmyleft,hisspinerigid.
“Iknowyou’rebothmeanttobeinclassrightnow,soI’llcuttothechase,”PrincipalMillerbegins,settinghispendown.“Ithascometomyattentionthataseriesofrather?.?.?.?aggressivelywordedemailshavebeencirculatingaroundtheschool.Isthatcorrect?”
Mymouthistoodryformetospeak.Icanonlynod.
“Ah,”hesays.It’sjustonesyllable,yetitsoundshorriblyominous.“Andisitalsocorrectthatyouaddressedmanyoftheseemailstoyourcocaptainandcalledhim,amongotherthings?.?.?.”Heglancesathiscomputermonitorandclearshisthroat.“Aspoiledbrat,aninsufferablethorn,acold-hearteddeceiver,andacertainwordthatreferstothe?.?.?.?downwardregionofthehumananatomy?”
Iblink.“Sorry?”
PrincipalMillershootsmeapointedlook.
“Oh,right—youmeanassho—”Iclampmymouthshut,butnotbeforeIcatchJuliuslaughingintohisfist.It’snicethathecanstillfinditinhimselftomakefunofmeunderourpresentcircumstances.Veryheartening.
“Now,normally,wedonotliketointerferewithpersonaldisputesbetweenourstudents,”theprincipalsays.“Butinthisspecificscenario,I’mafraidIhaveto.Afteryesterday’ssession,SamanthaHowardhasexpressedhergrievancestomeregardingyourshockingbehavior.Disruptingtheclass,fightingwitheachother,makingopenthreats.Needlesstosay,shehasaterribleimpressionofourschool,andshewon’tbecomingbackhereagain.”
“I’msorry,PrincipalMiller,butshe’sexaggerating,”Juliussays.Ihavetoadmirethefactthathecanevenfindthecouragetospeak.I’mjustaboutreadytocurlintothefetalposition.“Yes,SadieandIwerehavingasomewhat?.?.?.?livelyconversation,andperhapswegotcarriedaway,butit’sreallynotasbadas—”
“Asthis?”PrincipalMillerholdsuphisphone.
Webothleaninwithconfusion.
Avideoisplayingonloopoverthescreen.Afan-edit,tobeexact,ofCazSong—thatpopularactorallmycousinsinChinahaveamajorcrushon.WewatchaboutfivesecondsofhimrunninghishandthroughhishairtospecialflasheffectsbeforePrincipalMillerabruptlyretractsthephoneandscrollsdown.
“Sorry,”hesays,turningthescreenaroundagain.“Notthatone.This.”
Thenewvideoislessconfusing,butinfinitelymoreconcerning.Itmusthavebeentakenbyoneofourclassmatesduringthecybersecuritysessionyesterday.JuliusandIarebothstandingupand—eveninthebadlightingofthehall—veryclearlyarguing.Myhandsareclenchedtighterthantheyarenow,andhischinisliftedatadefiantangle,hisjawtaut.
“Itseemsyoulearnedabsolutelynothingfromthesession,becausethisisablatantbreachoftheschool’sITpolicy.”PrincipalMillershakeshishead.“We’veaskedthestudenttotakethevideodown,ofcourse,butithadalreadygainedfifty-threeviews.”
Juliusletsoutasoundthatcouldverywellbeascoff.Privately,Iagreewiththesentiment.“Only?That’sbarelyanything—”
“Fifty-threeisfifty-threetoomany,”PrincipalMillercutsinwithasternlook.“Asitstands,thevideowasseenbyoneofthemotherswhoattendedthetour.Shehadbeenplanningonsendingherdaughtertoourschool,butshe’ssincechangedhermind,andtheothermothersarereconsideringtoo.Thishasalreadyreachedtheschoolboard,andneedlesstosay,they’remostdispleased.Doyouunderstandtheseverityofthesituation?”
Inod,fast,clenchingmyteethtostopthemfromknockingtogether.I’mstillnotentirelysurewhichdirectionthisisgoing,butIcanalreadypredictit’sgoingtoendwithacrash.AllIcandoisbracemyselffortheimpact.
“Rightnow,ourchiefconcernismakingsurewepreventanyfurthernegativeimpactstotheschool’simageandculture.”HiseyeslandfirstonJulius,thenonme.“Asasolution,weaskthatyouworkcloselytogetheroverthecomingmonthtobridgeyourdifferences,untilyourtensionshavedissolved.Idon’tjustmeaninyourregularcaptainduties,butacrosstheschool,throughoutvariousactivities.Consideritashowofcomradery.”
Mystomachdrops.
I’malreadyaroundJuliusGongwaytoooften—Ican’timaginespendingevenmoretimewithhim.Idon’tthinkI’llbeabletowithoutlosingmysanityorleavinghisbodyinaditch.
WhenIglanceoverathim,helooksequallyhorrified,asiftheprincipalhasjustproposedthathesnuggleupwithaferalcat.Andthoughthefeelingisverymuchmutual,itstilldrivesasmall,bluntnailintomygut.TurnsoutIalwayswanttobewanted,evenbytheboyIloathe.
“Withallduerespect,Ididn’tdoanything,”Juliussays.Hisvoiceislevel,almostconvincinglycalm,yetthere’sabreathlessedgetohissentence.Hishandsflexoverthewoodenarmrests,likehe’stryingtosteadyhimselfagainstthem.“Iwasn’ttheonewhowrotetheemails.WhydoI—”
“Itmayseemunfair,buttherealityisyou’rebothinvolved.Ifyouareunhappywithmyproposalorunwillingtotakethenecessarystepstoresolveyourconflict,Iwillhavetoreconsideryoursuitabilityfortheroleandcontactyourparents—”
“No,”Juliussayssharply,withsuchforcetheprincipalflinches.“Apologies,”headds,quieter,recomposinghimself,thoughIcanstillseethemuscleworkinginhisjaw.“Ionlymean?.?.?.?IonlymeanthatIagreewithyoursolution.”
“I’mgladyou’rebeingreasonable,”PrincipalMillersays.Thenheturnstome.“Andyou,Sadie?Areyouhappytocooperate?”
Happyishardlytherightwordforit.Disgustedwouldbemorefitting.Orappalled.Orincensed.I’veneverresentedanythingmore.Butit’snotlikeIhavemuchofachoiceinthis.Withoutmycaptaincyonmyfinaltranscript,Berkeleycouldcancelmyadmission.ForgetJulius.IwouldforcemyselftoworkwiththedevilifitmeantIcouldkeepmyfutureplansintact.I’msupposedtobethereliablechildinthefamily,thepersonmostlikelytosucceedandturnourlivesaround.Mymomandmybrotherarecountingonme.
“Yes,”Igetout.“Iam.”
“Excellent.”Theprincipalclapshishandstogether,smilingatbothofus.He’stheonlyone.“Inthatcase,youcanstartbycleaningthebikeshedtogetherafterschool.”ThebikeshedsatWoodvaleAcademyareamorereliablesourceofinformationthantheschoolnewsletter.
Insteadofvagueupdatesabouttherowingregattaorthenewnetballcourtortheteacherwho’sleavingbecauseof“unforeseencircumstances,”youcanfindtherealnewsscribbledinbrightmarkersoverthewalls.Breakups,betrayals,scandals;who’spopularthisweekandwho’sdatingsomeonenew.It’salmostartisticinanavant-gardeway,theblendofcute,curlyfontswithsharp,angrylettersanddoodledheartsandstruck-outnamesandhalfpoems.Bynowthere’smorewritingthanblankspaceonthegraybricks.
Andwe’resupposedtocleanitallup.
IletthebucketandbrushI’mcarryingthunktotheground.Foramoment,Icanonlystarewithhorror,processingthesheerscaleofourjob.Thiswilltakeushoursattheveryleastifwe’requick—andjudgingfromthewayJuliusisholdingthehoselikeit’sadeadsnake,weprobablywon’tbe.
Infact,IdoubtJuliushasscrubbedasinglethinginhislife.
“Thisisridiculous,”hesays,shakinghishead.“Thisisjusttheschool’sexcusetomakeusdomanuallabor.”
“Well,webettergetstarted.”Itugmyhairfreefromitsusualhighbun,flippingitovermyheadandsmoothingitwithmyfingersbeforeretyingitintoaponytail.IstraightenintimetocatchJuliusstaringatme,astrange,faintlyconfusedlookonhisface.“What?”
“Nothing.I’vejust?.?.?.?neverseenyouwithyourhairdownbefore.”
Ifeelmyselfbristle.“And?”
“Whatdoyoumean,and?”Hismouthpuckers.“Itwasonlyanobservation.”
“Withyou,there’salwaysanand,”Itellhim,fightingthesuddenurgetotouchmyhair,toflattenit,tocheckitinamirror.It’struethatIneverwearmyhairdownatschool,partlybecausetherulesdon’tallowyoutoifyourhair’sanylongerthanshoulder-length—thoughtheyounger,nicerteachersdon’treallycare—andpartlybecauseitgetsinthewaywhenI’mjoggingortakingnotes.“Yourentireexistenceisbasicallyarun?onsentence.”
Atthis,hisexpressionreadjustsitselfintoafamiliarsneer.“AndhereI’dthoughtyou’dalreadyusedupeverypossibleinsultinyouremails.”
“Don’tworry,Icanalwaysthinkofmore.”Ipickupthebrushagainandstepforwardbeforehecanrespond.“Okay,forsimplicity’ssake,let’ssplitthisbetweenus.Youcanhosedownthewalls,andI’llscrub.”
“Whyme?”hedemands.“Whycan’tyouusethehose?”
Ibreatheindeeplythroughmynostrils.Ican’tbelievetheprincipalthinksthisplanwillhelpusbridgeourdifferences.Ifanything,mydesiretothrottleJuliushasonlytripledsincethismorning.“Because,”Isay,keepingmytoneasneutralaspossible,“tobehonestwithyou,Idon’tthinkyouknowhowtoscrub.”
Thecornerofhisliptwistsfartherdown.“OfcourseIknowhow.”
“Right,”Itellhim,unconvinced.
“I’llproveittoyou.”Ashespeaks,hepullsoutapairofblackglovesfromhispocketsandstartssnappingthemon.
“Whatisthat?”Ifrownathim.“Whyonearthareyouwearinggloves?We’renotheretorobabuilding.”
“Protectingmyskin.Ihaveverynicehands—asyouhavealreadyobservedinthepast.Itwouldbeashametoruinthem.”
Myfaceflushesdespitemyself.
“Here.”Hethrowsthehosetomeandtakesthebrushinhisperfectlyglovedfingers.“Watch.”
Ido.Iturnthehoseonandsprayasmallpatchofthewallandwatch,incredulous,ashemovesthebrusharoundinapatheticcircularmotion.Thebricksaredarker,thesurfaceshiningwithwater,butnoneofthemarkercomesoff.Actually,Ithinkhe’smanagedtosmudgeitfurther.
“Whyareyoumassagingthewall?”Iaskhim.
Hestops.Spinsaroundwithascowl.“Forgivemefornotattackingitlikesomeanimal—”
“You’rewastingtime.”Itipmyheadup,scanthesky.Thelighthasalreadystartedtofadefromabrilliantceruleantoaheavyindigo,andmostofthecarshavepulledoutoftheparkinglotacrosstheoval.Panicpinchesmystomach.Mymomwillbewaitingformetogethomeandmakedinner.Istillhavetodefrosttheporkribsandturnthericecookeronandstewthesoup—
“Icanstilldoitbetterthanyou,”Juliusinsists,movingthebrushoverapairofinitialsthatreadsAJ+BHFOREVER.It’ssincebeencrossedoutandreplacedbythewordsAJ+LEFOREVER
Myfrustrationboilsfastinsideme.“Ohmygod,you’resostubborn.”
“You’resobossy,”heshootsback.
“Difficult,”Iseethe.
“Demanding.”
“Arrogant.”
“Impatient.”
“Cynical.”Ispeakoverhim,myfistsclenchingaroundthehoseasmorewaterspewsout.“Snobby—”
“Overcritical,”hejeersatme.
“Manipulative—”
“Judgmental—Hey,watchit.”
Ijerkbackandlowerthehose,butit’stoolate.Thewater’ssprayedeverywhere,soakingthroughhalfhisshirtandhishair.Bysomestrokeofluckordarkmagic,theblackstrandhangingoverhisforeheadremainsunmoved.Buteverythingelseabouthimisdisheveled.Hissleevesarewrinkledfromthedamp,histieunravelingfromhiscollar.Ashestandsthere,drippingwet,blinkingfastagainstthewaterinhiseyes,andwipesaglovedhandoverhisface,abubbleoflaughterlurchestomythroat.
“Sadie.”Hesaysmynamelikeit’sinitselfacurse,hisfeaturestightwithshockanddisdain.Andmaybealltherecentdramahasmessedwithmybrain,becauseratherthantrippingovermyselfwithapologiesorfrettingoverlosttime,Idoubleover,cackling.
“I’m—sorry,”Isqueezeoutthroughmygiggles.“Ididn’t—mean—”
Hiseyesnarrow,butit’shardtotakehimseriouslywhenthefrontofhisshirtisplasteredtohisskin.“IfIdidn’tknowbetter,I’dthinkyoudidthatonpurpose.”
“Iswear—itwasn’t—”Iclutchmystomach,breathlesswithlaughter,andithitsmeoutofnowherethatthisisthefirsttimeI’vereallylaughedinalmosttwodays.It’slikemybodyisarubberband,stretchedtootightineverydirection—andnowit’sfinallysnapped,thetensionreleased.Igulpdownthecold,sweetair,fillingmylungswithit
ThenhegrabsthehosefasterthanIcanreactandturnsitonme.
Iyelp.
Theviolentblastofwaterissocolditalmostburns.It’sinmynose,myhalf-openedmouth,theinsideofmyshirt.Icanfeelitrunningdownmyspine,poolingintomyshoes.AndtheonlyclearthinginmyblurredvisionisJulius’sface.He’ssmilingnow,evidentlypleasedwithhimself.
“I’llkillyou,”Idecideonthespot.“I’mliterallygoingtokillyou.”
Ilungeforthehoseagain,butheholdsituphighoverhishead,outofreach.Tauntingme.
“Giveit,”Isnap.
“Noway.”
“Isaid,giveit—”Ijumpandmanagetowraponehandaroundtheend.Hedoesn’tletgo,though,justpullsitbackasifwe’replayingtug?of?war,andnextthingIknowwe’rewrestlingwithit,andthewater’sstillpumpingout,drenchingusboth.I’mchokingandshiveringandyellingathimbutsomehowI’mlaughingtoo,becauseofhowridiculousthisis.BecauseIhaven’thadthechancetodosomethingsoridiculousinawhile,tobehavelikeachild.
It’sonlywhenwe’rebothsoakedfromheadtotoeandbreathinghardthathestepsback.Takesonelookatme.Thenabruptlytwistsaway.
“What?”Isay,confused.
“Ourschoolshirtsaremadefrompolyester”comeshisbizarrereply.Heappearstobestaringatthetrimmedgrassbeneathhisfeetwithextremefocus.
“Sincewhenwereyouinterestedintextiles?”
Heignoresmyquestion.“Andwhitepolyester,”hesays,hisvoicestrained,“oncewet,becomestransparent.”
I’mprettysuresomesmallpartofmediesrightthereandthen.Simplyimplodes.Disintegratesintoash.MyskinissohotIdon’tevenregistertheice-coldwateranymore.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyselfinafutileattempttocoverupandmakeafranticdiveformyschoolbagbeforerememberingthat,ofcourse,myblazerisn’tthere.Ileftitinsidemylocker,allthewayontheothersideofcampus.Becausethat’smylifenow,apparently.
JustwhenI’mcontemplatingwhetherIshoulddigmyselfaditch,Juliussays,“Mybag.Myblazer’sinside.”
Ipause.Ontheirown,thewordsmakeperfectsense.Butstrungtogether,andcomingfromhim,theymightaswellbeanalienlanguage.There’snowayhe’smakinganoffer—
Excepthecontinues,withsomeimpatience,“Thefrontcompartment.Justdon’triflethroughanyofmystuff.”
Idon’tmove.Surely,thisisatrap.
Hesighs.“Ifyouwon’tgetityourself,I’mgoingtohavetoturnaround—”
“No—don’tyoudare,”Isayhurriedly,eventhoughhisheadremainsbowed,hiseyesfixedonthegrass.“I-I’llgrabit.”
MyhairisstilldrippingwaterasIunziphisbag,leavingdarksplotchesinthefabric.Hisblazerisfoldedneatlyatthetop,ironedsmooth.Onhim,it’saperfectfit,practicallytailoredtohisframe,thelinesstraightandsharpattheshoulders.ButwhenIdrapeitovermyself,itfallsaroundmelikeacape.Idon’tminditthough.It’swarmanddryanditsmellslikehim:likemintandcedarandthebeginningsofsomethingsweet,familiar,somethingthatremindsmeofsummerwhenwewerefourteenyearsold.ThenIcatchmyselfinhaling,huggingthesoftfabricclosertomyshiveringbody,andfreeze.
Theremustbewaterlodgedinmybrainformetobeactingthisway.
“Thanks,”Isay,willingmyvoicetosoundnormal.“Youcanturnaroundnow.”
Heturnsslowly.Hisgazecatchesontheblazerwhereitendsjustabovetheknee,coveringupmyskirt.Aslightmovementinhisthroat,likehe’sswallowingsomethingsharp.“Youbetternotloseit,”hesaysatlast.“Allmybadgesarepinnedonthere,andmanyofthemarelimitededitions.Youcouldn’treplacethemifyoutried.”
WhateversparkofgratitudeIfelttowardhimflickersout.“I’llgiveitbacktoyoutomorrowmorning,allwashedanddried.Happy?”
“Youdon’thavetowashit,”hesayscarelessly.Then,asifsensingmysurprise,hiseyesnarrow.“Idon’ttrustyouto.You’llprobablyendupshrinkingitanyway.”
Iwouldcomeupwitharetort,butitoccurstomethatwhathesaidaboutpolyesterappliestohimtoo.Nowthathe’sfullyfacingme,Irealizejusthowthintheschoolshirtis.Thesilvery-whitematerialclingstothenarrowcurveofhiswaist,theleancordsofmuscleinhisarms.
WhenIspeakagain,Ispeaktothewall.“Doyou?.?.?.?needtochange?”
“Oh,goodpoint,”hesays.“LetmejustfindthespareuniformIalwayskeeponhandintheeventthatmycocaptainattacksmewithahose.”
“Suityourself,”Igrumble,reachingforthebrush.“Neitherofusisallowedtoleaveuntilthejobisdone.”
Thistime,hedoesn’tprotest.Heturnsthewaterbackonwithoutanotherwordandhosesdownthewalltomyleft.It’sprobablylessthatheconcedesI’lldoabetterjobandmorethathe’sconcernedI’llsprayhimagain,butatleastwe’rebeingefficient.Weworkinsilence,fallingintoasteadyrhythm.Hespraysonearea,andIscrubitrightafter,scrapingawaysecrets,names,curses,wishes.Myhairhasstartedtostiffen,hanginginthick,heavyclumpsovermyshoulders,andmyshoessquelchunpleasantlyeverytimeIshiftposition.ButJuliusmakesnocomplaints,soIdon’teither.
We’reclosetofinishedwhenInoticethemessagescrawledonthecornerofabrick.
It’snew,theblackmarkerboldandfresh.Justfivewords,andmystomachdropsout.
SadieWenisabitch.
Myearsring.Iblinkatit,andthecoldseemstocongealovermyskin.Myclothesaretooitchy,mythroattootight;anawful,sicksensationbuildsinsideme,swellinguptomychest,squeezingthebreathoutofme.Ifeelnauseous.
“Whatisit?”Juliusasks,comingover.
Dreadchurnsthroughme.Hecan’tsee.Ican’tbearthethoughtofhimreadingit,ofhimlaughingatmeoragreeingorrubbingitin.It’stoohumiliating.I’lldiefromit.
“Nothing,”Isay.Iblockitwithmyhand,buthiseyesfallonmyfacefirst,andheglimpsessomethingtherethatchangeshisdemeanoratonce.Hisgazesharpens.Hisshoulderstense.
“Whatisit,Sadie?”heasksagain,butinadifferentway.Lower,moreserious.Urgent.
Ijustshakemyhead,myfingerssplayedoverthewords.Butevenwiththemconcealed,Icanseethemasifthey’vebeenetchedintomyownskin.SadieWenisabitch.Howlonghasthemessagebeenhere?Howmanypeoplehavewalkedpastitalready?Didsomeonewriteitrightaftermyemailsweresent?
“Showme,”Juliussays.
“No—”Myvoicecomesoutsmall,shaky.“Don’t—”
Hislongfingerswraparoundmywrist,pullingitdown,andthenthewordsarethere,exposed,starklyvisibletothebothofus.Shamestingsmyskinlikeacid,roilsdeepinsidemygut.
Foralongtime,hedoesn’tsayanything.
Thequietismaddening.I’mtooscaredtoglimpsehisface,toseeanysignsofcontemptorglee.“Iguessyou’renottheonlyonewhohatesmenow,”Icomment,justtofillthesilencewithsomething,totryandpassitoffasajoke.Hecan’tknowhowmuchithurtsme.Howeasyitistohurtme.
“Thathandwritingishideous,”Juliussaysfinally.Histoneisindecipherable.“ItmustbeDanny’s.”
“Who?”
“DannyYao,fromhistory.”
Thenamesettlesinthebackofmymindlikesilt.Danny.I’dwrittenhimanangryemailaswell,eventhoughitwasthreeyearsago.Hehadborrowedmyprotractorrightbeforeabigmathtestandlostit.He’donlythoughttoemailmeandletmeknowafterthetestwasover,afterI’dpanickedandbeggedanyoneIcouldfindforaspareprotractor.Funnilyenough,itwasJuliuswho’dhandedonetomeintheend—or,morelike,he’dthrownitatme.It’sgivingmeaheadache,watchingyourunupanddowntheschool,hehaddrawled,barelyevenlookinginmydirection.Andthisway,youwon’tbeabletomakeanyweakexcusesaboutbeingunpreparedwhenIbeatyou.
Iwonderifheevenremembers.IwonderifhekeepsascleararecordofoureveryexchangeasIdo.
“Doesn’tmatterwhodidit,”Imumble.“It’swhateveryone’sthinking.”
Icansensehimwatchingme.Myeyesburn,andIstareupatthevioletsky,forcingthetearstorecedebeforetheycanspill.Ihaven’tcriedsinceIwasseven,sincethedaymydadleftandIfoundmymomweepingquietlyintoherhands,curleduponthecouchintheemptylivingroom.Theairinthehousewassoheavyitthreatenedtocrushme.IhadswornthenthatIwouldn’tcry,ever.Iwouldn’taddtohersadness,wouldn’tdragherevenfurtherdown.Iwouldbethegooddaughter,thestrongone,theonewhokepteveryoneafloat.
“Well,”Juliussaysfrombehindme,“it’saveryuninspiredchoiceofwords.Suchabasicpejorativedenoteslowintelligence.”
This,ofallthings,joltsaweaklaughoutofme.ButIcan’tstopmyselffromglancingatthemessageagain.It’samasochisticthingtodo,foolish,likestretchingoutabrokenlegtotesthowbadthedamageis.Mybreathlodgesinmythroatasafreshwaveofpainwashesoverme.
SadieWenisabitch.
Itlookssougly.Likeabloodstain.
AsIstare,mystomachsinkinglowerandlower,Juliusmovescloserandloosensthebrushfrommystifffingers.Thenhebringsitdownhardoverthebrickandbeginsscrubbing,usingsomuchforcethemusclesinhisshouldersflexbeneathhisdampshirt.Unlikehispreviousattempt,heerasesallthemarkerinonego.
“Done,”hesays,lettinghisarmfallbacktohisside.“Simpleasthat.”
Butnothingaboutthismomentfeelssimple.Iopenmymouth,thoughI’mnotsurewhatIplantotellhim.Thanks?Pleaseforgetthiseverhappened?DoyouthinkI’mabitchtoo?BeforeIcanmakeupmymind,he’swalkingaway.Notwithhisusualslowleopard’sstride,asifit’sagifttomankindtosimplyseehiminmotion,butwithpurpose,likethere’ssomewhereheneedstobe.Someoneheneedstofind.Allthroughoutthenextday,IfeellikeI’mwalkingaroundtheschoolwithahugeneonsignonmyforehead:SADIEWENISABITCH.
Itdoesn’thelpthatotherpeopleareactinglikeittoo.WhenIspotRosiebeforehistoryclassandcatchuptoherinthecorridors,shewhirlsaroundwithsuchafrostylookinhereyesthatmyinsidesshrivel.
“Whatdoyouwant,Sadie?”sheasks,hervoicetight.Irememberhowshesmiledatmeonlythreedaysago,herstraightwhiteteethgleaming.It’shardtobelieveshe’sthesameperson.
“Ijust—”Ifalter.Ihadcomehereprepared.Ihadawholescriptmemorized,startingwithanelaborate,heartfeltapologyandendingwithapleaforforgiveness.Butthewordstastebrittleonmytongue,andthelongerthesilencestretches,themoremycouragebuckles.“Ionlywanted—Iknowyou’restillmad—Imean,Iwouldbemadtoo—”Everythingcomesoutscrambled,inthewrongorder.
“Yeah,I’mreallypissedatyou,”shesays,crossingherarmsoverherchest.
Ihadn’texpectedhertosayitoutright.“I’msorry,”Itry.“Ireally—”
Shecutsmeoff.“Insteadofapologizing,whydon’tyoufigureoutawaytofixallthis,hm?Onceeveryone’sforgottenabouttheemailsandstoppedcallingmeacheater,thenwecantalk.”Shedoesn’twaitforaresponse.Shesimplytidiesherbooks,shootsmeanotherglarethatcutsallthewaydowntothepitofmystomach,andheadsintotheclassroomwithoutme.
Herwordsclanginsidemyhead.Fixthis.
It’swhatI’vealwaysdone,ortriedtodo.Fixthebackdoorinthebakery.Fixtheerrorinthemathworksheet.Fixtheseatingarrangementforstudentcouncil.Fixthegapinmyfamily,theholesinmylife,patcheverythingup,smootheverythingover.She’sright.Ijustneedtofixthistoo,andit’llallworkout.
Buthow?
I’msoabsorbedinmyownthoughtsthatI’malmostlateforhistory.I’mnotthelastonethroughthedoor,though—DannyYaois.
Mybloodfreezesashebrushespastme.Theimageofthebikeshedpressesagainstmymind.Iimaginehimcursingmyname,scribblingthewordsoverthewall,laughingaboutitwithhisfriends.Butthenmyattentiongoestohisface,andIstifleagasp.Hisentirelefteyeisswollenshut,theskinarounditavividpurplish-blue.Thebruisewasn’tthereyesterdayafternoon.
“Whathappenedtohim?”IwhispertoAbigailwhenIsitdown.
Everyoneelseiswhisperingaswell,gazesslidingtoandawayfromhim.
“He’sbeensayinghegotitfromamotorcycleaccident,”Abigailmurmurs,hervoicethickwithdisbelief.
Ifrown.“Amotorcycleaccident?”
“Yeah.LasttimeIchecked,hedoesn’tevenknowhowtorideabicycle.”
IwatchDannymakehiswaytothefrontoftheclassroom.HeusuallysitsrightbehindJulius,buttodayhehesitates,thenpullsupachairtworowsaway.Ashedumpshisstuffoutontothetable,hishairfallsoverhisinjuredeye,andhisfeaturestwistintoapronouncedwince.
Itwouldbefartooarroganttobelievethisissomesortofkarma,thattheuniversehaskindlyoverlookedallmymistakesandtakenpityonmeandsteppedinonmybehalf.Butthetimingalsoseemsalittletooperfecttobeapurecoincidence?.?.?.
“How’stheemailthinggoing?”Abigailasks,breakingthroughmyconfusedjumbleofthoughts.
Iscantheseatsaroundus.Mostpeoplearetoobusyfillinginyesterday’sworksheet—whichI’vealreadyturnedin—tobelistening.Still,justtobesafe,Itearoutafreshpagefrommynotebookandscribble:Everyonestillhatesmyguts,ifthat’swhatyoumean.ButI’mplanningonchangingthat.Ijustneedtowinthemallover.
Abigailreadsit,thenwritesunderneathmylastsentenceinpinkgelpen:Winthemover?
Yeah.Iwasthinkingcupcakes,butthat’sprobablyinsufficient?
Don’tundersellyourself.Youmakesomeprettyincrediblecupcakes,Abigailwritesback.
Isnortundermybreath.Aretheysoincrediblethey’dmakeyouforgetsomeonewritingsixhundredwordsaboutallthewaysyou’dwrongedtheminthepast?
Okay,fairpoint,sheconcedes.Shepauses,tappingherpenagainstthepaperthewayshealwaysdoesintestswhenshe’sstuckonaquestion.Thenthepenstillsinherfingers,andhereyeslightup.Whatifyouthrewaparty?
Aparty?Istareatthewordsinherfun,loopycursive,theninmyownsharp,tidyletters.I’veneverhostedapartybefore.I’veneverevenheldabirthdayparty.Mymom’sofferedmultipletimesinthepast,butitalwaysfelttoofrivolous,tooinconvenient.
Abigailsmiles.There’snoquickerwaytobondthanovercheapbeerandgoodmusic.I’llmakeaplaylist.
Butwhowouldevencome?
It’saparty.Peoplewillwanttocome,nomatterwho’shosting.Trustme.
Ourfriendshiphasalwaysbeenlikethat—herleadingthewaywiththebigideas,andmefollowingreluctantly,coaxedintobuyingthatboldredlipstickorcuttingmyhairorgoingonaspontaneousroadtripordressingupasgirlgroupmembersforHalloween.Trustme,IknowwhatI’mdoing,she’llsayeverytime,andshe’sneverbeenwrongbefore.IdidgetcomplimentsontheredlipstickthefewtimesIworeit,andourtriptothecoastwasthemostfunI’vehadinyears,picnickingonthesandwiththesaltbreezeinmyhairandthesunonmyskin.Iowesomeofmybestandbrightestmemoriestoher.
Still,I’mshockedtofindmyselfactuallyconsideringtheparty.It’snotimpossible.Mymomandbrotherarealwaysinvitedtostayoveratouraunt’shouseeverytwoweeksorso.SometimesItagalong,butmostofthetimeIstaybehindtofocusonmyschoolwork.Icouldhostitwhenthey’regone,cleanupbeforethey’reback.
Becausebeneathmyapprehensionisthestronger,deeplyingrainedneedtobeliked.Tobeaccepted.Tobeforgiven.Toberecognizedasgood.I’lldoanythingtoredeemmyself.Thewordsonthebikeshedflashthroughmymindagain,andmychestcontracts,likealltheairhasbeensuckedoutoftheroom.
“Okay,”Isayoutloud,suppressingagrimace.“Let’sgiveitashot.”
???
Idon’tevenhaveachancetochangemymind.
Abigailjumpsintoactionstraightaway,spendingthenextseveralperiodsscrollingthroughallhercontactstopickoutwhoweshouldinvite.There’ssomekindofunspokenrulehereaboutwhoyouneedtotellfirsttospreadtheword,whowillgoonlyifthisotherpersonisgoing,whowon’tgoifthisotherpersonisgoing.Shetriestoexplainittomeashernailsclickoverthescreen,tappingoutthedetails,butitjustmakesmyheadfuzzy.IwonderifthisishowshefeelswhenI’mteachingherstoichiometry.
She’salreadyplacingordersforalcoholicbeverageswhenthelunchbellrings.
“I’llhandlethis,”shesays,slidingdownfromthedeskandwavingmeoff.“Gotoyourbookclubthing.”
“It’stheyearbookcommittee,”Icorrecther.
Shelooksatmeblankly.“Westillhaveoneofthose?”
“Whodoyouthinkassembledallthephotosandwrotethearticlesandproducedthephysicalyearbooksthateveryonewentaroundsigningattheendoftheyear—”Istopmyself.“Nevermind.Just—justdon’torganizeanythingtoowild.”
Herlipspurse.“Definetoowild.”
“Abigail.”
“Fine,I’llparkthefireworksdisplayfornow.Andtheminipettingzoo.”
I’mworriedsheisn’tjoking,butmythoughtsaresoonoccupiedbyotherconcerns.Theyearbookcommittee’sfortnightlymeetingsarealwaysheldintheEnglishclassroomduringlunchtimes,whichmeansthey’rerunbyMs.Johnson.
Ms.Johnson,whoevidentlyhasn’tforgivenmefortheemailyet.
“Sadie.”ShesniffswhenIwalkin.Thecommitteeissmallenoughthatyoucouldcountallitsmembersontwohands.Mostofthemarealreadyinside,leaningovertocorrectadocumentonsomeone’slaptop,spreadingoutflyersoveradesk,pullingtheclingwrapfromtheirsandwichesastheywaitfortheprintertoload.
Juliusisheretoo.He’sreclininginoneoftheoldplasticchairslikeit’sathrone,hislonglegsstretchedinfrontofhim.Andhe’swearinghisblazer.I’dfoldeditneatlyinsideanoldshoppingbaganddroppeditoffathislockerearlythismorningtoavoidtheawkwardnessofhandingitdirectlytohim.Atthesoundofmyname,hisblackeyesflickeruptome.
Mypulseskips.
Yesterdayafternoonstillfeelstoofresh,tooraw,likeanopenflamebetweenus.Thememoriessmolderinsidemyhead.Himwithhisdamphairfallingintohiseyes,theweightofhisblazeraroundme,hisslenderhandaroundmywrist.
Andit’sirrational,becauseI’veseenhimalmosteverydayforthepasttenyears.Ishouldbeusedtoitbynow—tohim.He’saspermanentafixtureastheclockhangingonthewalls,theviewoftheemeraldschoolovalfromthewindows,thedullcircularpatternsinthecarpet.Butsomethingfeelsdifferent.Slightlyaskew.
“.?.?.listeningtome,Sadie?”
“Huh?”Istartle,andhastilyturnmygazebacktoMs.Johnson’sdisapprovingface.“I’msosorry,couldyou?.?.?.?saythatagain?”
BeforeEmailgate,shewouldhavesmiledatme,orpeeredatmewithconcern.NowshejustheavesanirritablesighandbeckonsforJuliustocomeover.“SinceI’mgoingtohavetorepeatmyself,Imightaswelltellyoubothatonce.”
Juliuspositionshimselftomyfarright,leavingfourwidefeetofdistancebetweenus.Itfeelsparticularlypointedtoday,likehe’stryingtoprovesomethingtome,ortohimself.
“PrincipalMillerhasaskedmetoassignatasktoyoutwo,”Ms.Johnsonsays.“Wehaveafour-pagespreadforthenotablealumnisectionoftheyearbook,butnotenoughcontenttogointhere?.?.?.”
“Whydon’tyounameanotheroneofthecurtainsinthecafeteriaafteranotablealumnusandholdagrandnamingceremonyagain?”Juliusasksinnocently.
Ihavetostifleasnort.
Ms.Johnsonmissesthesarcasm.“That’sagoodidea,Julius,butasofnowallourcurtainsarealreadynamed.Wethoughtitwouldbeabetterideaforyoutoconductaninterviewwithoneofourveryownalumni.Seewhatthey’vebeenuptosincetheyleftWoodvale.Celebratetheirsuccesses.Whatdoyouthink?”
Iopenmymouth.“I—”
“I’mgladweallagree,”Ms.Johnsonsays,andwhipsoutalonglistofnames.“Youcanfindthecontactdetailshere.I’dsuggestyoucalltheminsteadofemail—you’remuchmorelikelytogetresponsesthatway.ThefinaldraftfortheinterviewisduetheFridayafternext.Anyquestions?”
Itryagain.“Justone—”
“Great,”shesaysbriskly,smilingatonlyJulius,thenstrutsbacktoherdesk.
Asilencefallsoverus.Webothstandthere,rigid,listeningtothelowwhirringoftheprinterinthebackground,themutedtappingofthekeyboard.Neitherofuswantstodothis.
“Wow,shereallydoesn’tlikeyou,”Juliussaysafterabeat.Hecan’tevenhidethesurpriseinhisvoice.
“Iknow,”Igrumble.It’stheobvioustruth,butmyskinstillstingsfromit.Igrabthelisttohidemyburningfaceandflipthroughthepages.“Let’saimtofinishthisbeforetheendoflunch,”Itellhim,makingmywaytotheemptytableatthebackoftheclassroom.Myfingersitchwiththeneedtodosomething,toprovemyselftoMs.Johnson,togetintohergoodgracesagain.Maybeifwehandletheinterviewwell,she’lllikemeagain.Oratleaststophatingme.
Juliustakestheseatnexttome.Butagain,hemakessuretoleaveasignificantamountofspacebetweenussothere’szerochanceofhimtouchingmebyaccident.
Forsomereason,I’mmoreirritatedthanglad.
“You’renotgoingtobeabletoseelikethat,”Ipointout.
“What?”
“Thecontactinformation.”
“Icanseeitjustfinefromhere,”heinsists.
“Really?”Iholdthelistup.“Whatdoesthefirstnamesay?”
Hesquintsatit,whichreallygoestoshowhowfarawayheis.Myirritationthickens.“Sarah?.?.?.?Newman?”
“It’sClareDavis,”IsayflatlyasIpunchhernumberintomyphone.I’mprayingshe’llpickuponthefirstring,sayshe’savailablefortheinterview,andthenwe’llbedone.“Noneofthoseletterswereaccurate.Thenumberofletterswasn’tevenaccurate.Whyareyouallthewayoverthereifyoucan’tsee?AreyouafraidI’llbiteyouorsomething?”
Herollshiseyeswithwhatfeelslikeexaggerateddisdain.“InwhatworldamIafraidofyou?”
“Thencomecloser.”
“Fine.”Hedragshischairforwarduntilhe’srightnexttome,hisshoulderalmostpressedtomine,theheatofhisskinseepingthroughmyshirt.UntilI’mawareofnothingexcepthim,hisnearness,hisphysicalpresence.AndsuddenlyIfindmyselfregrettingmyownrequest.It’shardtothinkstraightlikethis.Ican’tevenmovewithoutbrushingagainsthim.Butaskinghimtogobackwouldbeadmittingdefeat—worse,itwouldbeadmittingheaffectsme.SoIpretendtoignorehimandfocusonthecall.
Myphoneheatsupinmyhandasthedialtonesoundsthroughthespeaker.Once,twice,threetimes?.?.?.
Onthefifthring,Clarepicksup.“Hello?”Hervoiceiscurt,skeptical,likeshe’s90percentcertainI’mascammerabouttosellherinsuranceforsolarpanelsshedoesn’town.
Itrynottofidgetinmyseat.IwishIwasn’tthekindofpersonwhoisalwayssosensitivetootherpeople’sshiftingmoodsandtones,whostartleswhensomeoneraisestheirvoiceevenalittle,whocowerswhensomeoneelsegetsannoyed.“Hi,”Isay,withasmuchwarmthasIcanprojectintotheline.“ThisisSadieWen.I’m,um,callingonbehalfoftheyearbookcommitteeatWoodvale—”
“Woodvale?”SheletsoutasnortsoloudIalmostdropthephone.“Nah,Igraduatedthatflaminggarbagedumpagesago—”
Iquicklytakeheroffloudspeakerandbringthephoneuptomyear,buteverybody’salreadyheard.Ms.Johnsonisstaringmyway,herlipsdisappearingintoafineline.Thestudentssittingattheotherdeskdissolveintogiggles.
“.?.?.I’m,like,sooverhighschool,”Claresays.Ihearhonkingonherend,thewhiterushofmovement,thenamuffledcurse.“Stopcuttinginfrontofme,youasshat—I’mdriving,bytheway.”
“Oh,”Isay.Then,asifI’vebeenpossessedbythespiritofadrivinginstructor,Iadd,“It’snotsafeforyoutobecalling,then.Eyesontheroad.”
“Youcalledme,”shesays.
“Right.Sorry.Um—”Icanfeelmyselfgrowingflustered.Itdoesn’thelpthatJuliushasn’tliftedhiseyesfrommethiswholetime.“Wewereonlywonderingifyouwouldbeinterestedindoinganinterviewfor—”
“Nope.”
Ihavenoideahowtorespond.“Um,that’sfine,then.Thanksforyourtimeand—”
Thelineclicks.
“Bye,”Imuttertonobody,settingthephonebackdown.
“That’sit?”Juliussays.Heshiftsforward,hisleftshoulderbumpingagainstminewiththerisingmotion.“Thatwasterrible.Youweren’teventryingtobepersuasive.”
Iglareathim.“Youheardher.Shewasn’tinterested.”
“AllIheardwasyoutellinghertodrivesafely,thenapologizingfornogoodreason,asperusual,”hedrawls.“Sheshouldhaveapologized;shewastheonewithanattitude.”
“Youactasifyoucouldproducebetterresults.”
“Ican.”Heholdshishandoutforthephone,butasIpassitover,mygazefallsonhisknuckles.They’resplitopenandrawred.Myfirstimpressionisthatitmustbefromscrubbingtheshedyesterday,butthatcan’tberight.He’dbeenwearingthoseridiculousglovesfortheverypurposeofprotectinghisskin.
Andthislooksmoreunnatural,moredeliberate,asifhe’dslammedhisfistintosomethinghard?.?.?.
LikeDanny’sface.
He’sdialingthenextnumberwhenheglancesup.Catchesmestaring.
“Yourhand,”Ibegin,becausethere’snopointhidingit.“Didyou—”
“DidIwhat?”
WhatI’dbeenmeaningtosaywas,DidyouhitDannyyesterday?Wasthatwhereyouwentafterwecleanedtheshed?Butbeforethewordscanleavemytongue,Inotethecoldnessinhiseyes,theclosed-offwayhe’sholdinghimself,andIrealizehowutterlyridiculousthatquestionis.Itmusthavebeenastrangecoincidence,that’sall.JuliusGongisfarmorelikelytohigh-fiveDannythanhithim.
“Whathappened?”Iaskinstead.
“Noneofyourbusiness.”Hisvoiceisaloof.
Okay,itdefinitelycouldn’thavebeenhim.I’mmortifiedIhadevenconsideredtheidea.“Iwasjustaskingoutofpoliteness—”
“Well,then,youdon’thavetopretendtocare.”
Ibristle,certainI’mabouttostartbreathingfire.Whydoeseverythinghavetobesodifficultwhenitcomestohim?Butit’snotjustangertwistingitswayaroundmystomachlikeaserpent.Embarrassinglyenough,it’shurttoo.Therehadbeenthebriefestmomentyesterdayafternoon,whenheofferedmehisblazer,whereIthought?.?.?.?Idon’tknow.Maybehedidn’tdetestme.Maybehehadthecapacitytobenice,likeanormalhumanbeing.Anotherabsurd,impossibleidea.
“Yes?”Amalevoicefloatsupfromthephone.“Whoisthis?”
“Hello,I’mJuliusGong.IsthisLogan?”He’sfirmbutpolite,eachwordclearandcrispbutnottooloud.Hemakesmewanttokicksomething.“WehaveagreatmediaopportunityhereandasthemostaccomplishedWoodvalealumnus,youweretheveryfirstpersonwethoughtof?.?.?.”
“Liar,”Imouthathim.
Hedoesn’tevenblinkbeforecontinuing,“Yourlistofathleticaccomplishmentsistrulyimpressive—”
Butthemancutshimoffmidsentence.“Yeah,listen,I’mflattered,butthisreallyisn’tagoodtimerightnow.I’m,um,withcompany.”
Justthen,agirlchimesinthebackground,“Lo?gan.”Shestretchesthenameoutintoalongwhine.“Aren’tyoucomingback?”
Juliusstaresdownatthephonelikeitmightgrowteethandbitehim.Forthefirsttime,helookswildlyuncomfortable,aflushspreadingupthesmoothskinofhisneck.“Ican?.?.?.?callback,”heoffers.
“I’mprobablygoingtobe,ah,preoccupiedfortherestoftoday,”Logansays.“Sorry,man,Idon’tthinkI’mtherightpersontoask.Betterluckwithsomeoneelse.”
Thenhehangsup.
Juliusappearstobefrozenwithshock.Atlast,hethawsenoughtoforceoutthewords“Didhejusthanguponme?”Likeit’sasupernaturalphenomenon,aviolationofthelawsthatgovernouruniverse.
Iwouldbelaughingifweweren’ttieddowntothesametask.Still,Ican’thelpgettingajibeinwhileIcan.“Thatwas—whatwasthewordyouused?Oh,yes.Terrible.”
Hescoffs,butIcantellhe’saffronted.“Thatwasanexception.”
ItquicklybecomesapparentthoughthatClareandLoganaren’ttheexception,butthenorm.Whiletheotherstudentsmunchontheirtoastedsandwichesandrelaxbythesunlitwindows,werunthroughtherestofthelist,crossingoffonenameafteranotherwithincreasingfrustration.Myfingersbecomestifffromdialing.Someofthephonenumbersarenolongeractive.Someareswitchedoff.Manypeoplesimplydon’tpickup.Thefewwhodoarebusy,orforeseethattheywillsoonbeverybusy,orjustcan’tbebotheredtomakeanycommitments.Onepersonwouldbeavailable,exceptthey’reabouttoembarkonathirty-daytrekthroughajungleandwon’thaveanysignal.Onewomancussesmeoutforbotheringher,andI’msohorrifiedthatJuliushastopullthephonefrommeandendthecall.
Butbeforehedoes,hesayspleasantlyintothespeaker,“Haveahorriblerestofyourday.Oh,andalso?.?.?.”Thenhegesturesformetosaysomething.
“Idon’tknowwhattosay,”Ihiss,panicking.
Heliftsadarkbrow.“Youdidn’thaveanytroublefindingthewordswhenyouwereinsultingme.Goon.You’renotgoingtolethercurseatyoufornothing,areyou?”
Itcouldbeatrick,oratrap.ButIhavetoadmit:I’mtempted.AndI’mtiredofbeingcallednames,ofabsorbingotherpeople’sanger.SoIleancloserandclearmythroat.“Ihope,um,youmissthetrainhomeand?.?.?.”
Juliuslooksatme,expectant.It’salookthatsaysIsthatthebestyoucando?
Ican’thelprisingtothechallenge.“Ihopeyoufindthatyouhavenocleanplatesleftfordinner,”Icontinue,myvoicestrengtheningwitheveryword,evenasmyheartbeataccelerates.“Andyourneighborsstartpartyingattenp.m.buttheirmusictasteissolelyadvertisingbackgroundtracks,andtheshowerrunsoutofhotwaterrightafteryou’veappliedshampoo.”
“Ithinkit’sfairlysafetosaywewon’tbeinterviewingher,”Juliusremarksashesetsthephonedown.
Ilaugh,whichseemstopleasehim,whichinturnmakesmefeellikeI’vedonesomethingwrong.Missedsomethingimportant.Andyet—ithadbeensatisfying,speakingaloudthethingsIwouldnormallyreserveformydrafts.
Thedownsideisthatwenowonlyhaveonenameleft.
“We’vegonethrougheverything,”Juliussays,flippingthepaperaround.“Maybeweshouldjustinterviewmeinstead.I’lljointhelistofnotablealumnishortlyaftergraduating—mightaswelldoitinadvance.”
Mybrowsfurrow.“Hangon.Therewasstillone—”
“Idon’tthinkso,”hesays.Hisfingerssplayoverthelist,themovementsubtlebutdeliberate.
“Whyareyouactingsoweird?”
“I’mnot.”Hischinjutsout.
IglanceattheclockoverMs.Johnson’sdesk.Threeminutesleftoflunch.Aroundus,theothercommitteemembersarealreadystartingtounplugtheirchargers,snaptheirlunchboxesshut,throwawayscrappaperandgrease-stainedwrappers.Ihavenoideawhat’sgoingonwithJulius,butIdon’thavethetimetositaroundandargueovernothing.“Whatever,”Isay.“I’vegotthenameandnumbermemorized.It’sJamesLuo.”
Thelineofhisshoulderstightens,andforasplitsecond,fasterthanIcanblink,somedarkemotioncloudshisfeatures.“Howdidyou?.?.?.”
“You’renottheonlyonewithagoodmemory,”IremindhimasIstabinthenumbers.I’mbraggingalittle,butI’mnotexaggerating.I’veneverhadmuchtroublerecallingdates,facts,names,theplacesonamap.Butsometimesmyownmemorybackfiresonme.Becausebesidescold,hardstatistics,IremembereverysingletimeI’velosttoJuliusinatest,everytimesomeone’syelledatme,everyembarrassmentandfailureanddisappointment.Everythingleavesanindeliblemarkonme,buriesapermanentbladeundermyskin.
Whenthelineconnects,thevoicethatspeaksupsoundsoddlyfamiliar.Somethingaboutthetone,theinflectionofthewords,thefaintraspattheedges.“Hello?ThisisJamesspeaking.”
“Hi,”Isay,mymindspinning,strugglingtoplaceit.“I’mSadieWen,callingfromWoodvale—”
Tomysurprise,helaughs.“Oh,Iknowyou.You’retheothercaptain,right?Mylittlebrothertalksaboutyouallthetime.”
Ifalter.Besideme,Juliushasgoneverystill,hiscomplexionpale.“Your?.?.?.?littlebrother?”
“Yeah,”Jamessaysbreezily.“Mybrother,JuliusGong.”“Ican’tbelieveIdidn’tknowyouhadabrother,”ItellJulius.
Hemakesthesamefacehe’sbeenmakingallafternoon—akindofpainedgrimace,likethere’ssomethingsharpstucktothesoleofhisleathershoes.“Yeah,well,mostpeopledon’t.”Withonehand,hepullsopentheglassdoortothebookstoreandfollowsmeinside.“Wedon’tsharethesamefamilyname,andhegraduatedsixyearsago.So.”
“Right,”Isay,loweringmyvoice.
It’sveryquietinsidethestore;youcanheartheblazeofthefireplace,thesoundofrustlingpaper,thesoftthudofabookbeingplacedbackontoashelf.Thedisplaysatthefrontarelinedwiththemostrecentbestsellers—amixofpoliticians’memoirs,brick-sizedfantasynovels,andself-helpbooksthatcontainexpletivesinthetitle—andhandwrittennotesfromthestaff,gushingovertheirfavoritepicksfortheseason.Thecream-coloredwallsaredecoratedwithrecommendationstoo,aswellaspostersadvertisingadebutauthor’slaunchtomorrow.
Atthebackofthebookstore,pasttheMysteryandThrillerssection,theaislesopenuptoaminicafé.Thearomaoffresh-groundcoffeeseepsthroughtheair,layeredoverthedistinct,smokybookscentI’musedtosmellinginourschoollibrary.Thereareonlytwotablesavailable,andanelderlywomanhasalreadytakentheoneclosesttothewindow,aplateofhalf-eatenraspberrycheesecakesetdownbeforeher.
Islingmyschoolbagoverthechairbytheothertableandtugoutmyphoneandlaptoptotakenotesfortheinterview.ThenIsitandcrossmylegs.Anduncrossthemagain.
“What?”Juliusasksashesitsdownacrossfromme.
Istarebackathim.“Iliterallydidn’tsayanything.”
“Iknowyouwanttosaysomethingthough,”hepresses.“You’vebeenallweirdandfidgetysincelunch.Justgetitoutalready.”
Mylipspurse.ThetruthisthatIamalittle,kindof,justsomewhatextremelycurious—ormaybebewilderedisthebetterwordforit.I’vealwaysconceivedofJuliusasasingular,self-sufficiententity,aloneforce.Iwouldn’texpecthimtobeabrothertosomeoneelse,thesamewayIwouldn’texpectthemahoganytabletohaveasibling.Becausethatcracksopenthedoortothousandsofotherbizarrepossibilities:ofJuliusasayoungchild,ofJuliusasaboywhogoesonsummervacationsandhasmovienightsandfamilydinners,whowrestleshisbrotherfortheremotecontrolorsulksinhisroomafterafightorgoesonahuntaroundthehouseforhisfavoriteshirt.Itmakeshimfeeltooreal,toohuman.
Butthat’snottheonlystrangethingaboutthisdiscovery.
“Why?.?.?.?areyoursurnamesdifferent?”Iask,thenwonderifthisisasensitivetopic.Maybetheirparentsaredivorced.Maybehecomesfromanincrediblycomplicatedbackground,wherehismomisn’treallyhismomorhisdadishisbrother’sdadbutnotactuallyhisdadorsomething.Thatwouldexplainwhyhe’sbeenmoodyeversincehisbrotheragreedtodotheinterviewwithusafterschool.
“Mymotherdidn’tthinkitwasfairforustobothtakemyfather’slastname,”hesayswithashrug.“SowhenIwasborn,shegavemehers.”
“Ikindoflovethat,actually.”
Hegivesmealong,almostdefensivelook.“Areyoubeingsarcastic?”
“No,”Isay,annoyed.“Notallofusareincapableofexpressingsincerelypositivesentiments,Julius.”
“Itcanbehardtotell,withyourusualtone.”
“What’swrongwithmytone?”
Heraiseshisbrows.“Mostofthetimewhenyou’retalkingtopeople—teachers,especially—yousoundlikeyou’reinanadvertisementfororganicfruitjuice.It’soverlycheery.”
“You’reaccusingmeofbeingtoohappy?”Iforgettolowermyvoicethistime,andtheelderlywomanshootsmeaglareoverthetopofherhistoricalromancenovel.Imouthanapologyandcontinueinafiercewhisper,“That’sridiculous.There’snosuchthing.”
“Actingtoohappy,”hecorrectsme,hisgazepiercing.“WhenIdon’treallythinkyouare.”
Mychestburns,likethewordshavesqueezedtheirwayinsideandpeeledthefleshfrommyheart.ButIcan’tletitshow.“Youdon’tknowmethatwell,”Imutter.
Iexpectasharpretort,akicktofollowthepunch,buthesitsback.Clearshisthroat.“Sorry,”hesays,lookinguncomfortable.“I?.?.?.?Thatwasunnecessary.I’mjust—”Asighdragsoutbetweenhisteeth.“Notparticularlylookingforwardtothis.”
AndthatmakestwothingsIdidn’tknowJuliushadbefore:anolderbrotherandtheabilitytoapologize.Thebitteremotionclenchedinsidemeloosensslightly.“Theinterview,youmean?”Iask.“Why?He’syourownbrother.”
“Iknow.”
“Andhesoundsreallyaccomplished.Like,really,”Isay,openingupmyphonetomyresearchnotes.
JamesLuoissoaccomplishedthathehashisownWikipediapage.Itgoesthroughallhismajormilestonesandachievementssofar,includinghowhegraduatedfromWoodvaleasvaledictorianattheageofsixteenandreceivedafullscholarshiptostudyatHarvard,wherehewrotehisliterarydebutwithinamonth“onawhim”andsolditforsevenfiguresbeforehe’deventurnedtwenty.Orhowhewonsomekindofhugeinternationaldebatingtournamentthreeyearsinarowbutthenmadetheunprecedentedmoveofquittinglastminute,becausehedidn’tfindit“intellectuallystimulatinginawaythatwasmeaningful”anymore.
Themostrecentupdatewasabouthissophomorenovel,BlueCrescentBlade.Itdoesn’tevencomeoutforanotherthreemonths,butit’salreadyreceivedcountlessglowingreviews,anexclusiveprofileinO,TheOprahMagazine,andisbeinghailedasa“tourdeforce,”an“uttertriumph,”anda“reckoning”—withwhat,I’mnotsureSomebigcelebritycalleditoneoftheirtwofavoritebooksever,theotherbeingtheBible.
“Look.”Ipullupanotherarticle,featuringaglossy,professionalblack-and-whitephotoofJamesinaplainturtleneck.He’sstaringoutthewindowwithapensiveexpressiononhisface,andtheresemblancetoJuliusisstriking.Theyhavethesamesculptedlips,thesamethickblackhairandfineangles.ButJamesisbroaderjawed,andhe’swearingthesesquareframeglassesthatemphasizethehollowsinhischeekbones.“Itsaysherehisbookisthebreakoutbookofthedecade.”
“Whosaysthat?”Juliusaskswithoutglancingatthearticle.
Iscanthroughthepage,buteventhoughadozenothercelebritiesarename-dropped,thequoteisn’tattributedtoanyone.“It,um,justdoes.”
“Onecanonlyassumeit’suniversallytrue,then.”Hesaysitinabrisk,offhandmanner,buthistoneissour.
Thenhecatchessightofsomeoneovermyshoulder,andhisgrimacetwistsdeeper,asifthesharpthinginhisshoehastransformedintoalethalscorpion.
“Hello.”
IspinaroundtofindJamesLuostridinguptous,hispalmsspreadout,hismouthstretchedintoawidegrin.Helooksexactlylikehedoesinhisauthorphoto,withhisslicked-backdarkhairandsquareglasses;he’sevenwearingwhatappearstobethesameturtleneck.Buthe’stallerthanIexpected.WhenJuliusstandsup,afewinchesofdistanceremainbetweenthem.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’taskmeabouttheinterviewrightaway,”JamesissayingashethumpsJuliusonthebacksohardyou’dthinkJuliuswaschoking.“YouknowhowhappyIalwaysamtohelpyououtwithyourcuteschoolprojects,evenwhenmyscheduleispacked.”
Julius’sexpressiondarkens.“It’snotreallyaschoolproject.Theprincipalsignedusupforthis.”
“You’reright.”Jamesnodssagely,hiseyessweepingtheroom.Isweartheylightupwhentheylandonapyramidofhisbooksplacedrightinthemiddleoftheshelves.“Schoolprojectsareveryimportant.”
Juliusscowlsbutdoesn’tsayanything.
“Andyou.”Jamessuddenlyturnshisattentiontome.“YoumustbeSadieWen.You’repracticallyahouseholdname.”
Iconcealmysurprise.I’dthoughthewasgrosslyexaggeratingwhenhetoldmeonthephonethathislittlebrothertalksaboutmeallthetime.ButthenInoticethecrimsoncolorcreepingupJulius’sneck,andtheonlylogicalexplanationforitisthatwhateverhe’ssaidiseitherterribleorwonderful.“Whathashesaidaboutme?”
Juliuslookshorrified.James,however,looksdelighted.
“Oh,youknow.Whenyoubeathiminthatbiologytestlastmonthhewouldn’tshutupaboutitfordays—”
“Stop,”Juliusmuttersoutofthesideofhismouth.Herefusestomeetmygaze.
ButJamescontinueswithgoodcheer,“Andhe’salwaysgoingonabouthowintimidatinglysmartyouare.Howhardhehastoworktokeepupwithyou.”
Intimidatinglysmart.Iholdontothosewords,examinethemupclose.I’veneverthoughtofmyselfasintimidatingorscary,yetitfeelslikethegreatestcompliment.Aconfirmationofmywildesthopes.JuliusGongtakesmeseriously.Heisn’tjustcompetingbecausehethinksit’dbeembarrassingtolose.He’safraidoflosingtome.
“Youknow,”Jamessays,“hegotreallysicklastsummer,buthewouldn’tevenrest.Hebroughtallhistextbooksbacktohisbedbecausehecouldbarelystandandinsistedthat,like,ifhedidn’tstudyhardeverysingledayyou’dpullahead—”
“Wait.”MygazeswivelstoJulius.“Youweresick?”
Thatdoesn’tmakesense—Irememberlastsummer.Ontheveryfirstday,he’dsentmeanincrediblydifficultequationfromsomekindofadvanceduniversitypaperasachallenge.I’dsolveditjusttospitehim,anddugthroughallthepapersavailableonlinetofindsomethingeventrickier,andsentthatback.We’dthenfallenintothehabitofexchangingquestionseverymorning.Weneversaidanythingelse.Justthescreenshotandtheanswer.Oneblowtradedforanother.Hewouldrespondeachtimewithoutfail,andwe’dkeptitupallthewayuntilschoolstartedagain.
Howcouldhehavebeenill?
“Itwasn’tthatserious,”Juliussays,runningahandthroughhishair.“Andevenwithafever,mybrainstillworksbetterthantheaverageperson’s.”
“That’snothowyouacted.”Jamesraiseshisbrowsatme.I’veseenJuliusmakethatexactexpressionsomanytimesit’slikelookingatamirrorimageofhim.“Whenhewasn’tstudying,hewassulkingKeptaskingourmothertomakehimhisfavoritesoup,luosongtang—”
“Ithoughtyousaidyouonlyhadtwentyminutestodotheinterview?”Juliusinterruptsloudly.HesitsbackdownandpullsouttheMoleskinenotebookhealwaysusestotakenotes.“Shouldn’twebegettingstarted?”
“Ah,ofcourse.”Jamesbeams,andIfindmyselfthinking,Theirsmilesaredifferent.Jamessmileslikehehasaninfinitenumberofthem,likeitcostshimnothing.ButJulius’ssmilesaresharp,sudden,sometimesledgedwithmockeryorlacedwithpoison.Hisrealsmilesaresorarethateachonefeelslikeamiracle,likeyou’vewonsomething.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
IwanttoknowifJuliuswasafraidofthedarkwhenhewasyounger.IfheeverbelievedinghostsorSantaortheLochNessmonster.Iwanttoknowwherehestudies,whetherit’sbythelightofthelivingroomwindoworaloneinhisbedroom,ifhekeepsthedoorwideopenorclosed.IwanttoknowwhathewoulddressupasforHalloween,whatsonghepicksoutatkaraoke.Howearlyherises,howlatehesleeps.WhatdishestheirmothercooksfortheSpringFestival,whathetalksaboutonlongcarrides.Iwanttocollectthesepiecesofinformationlikeammunition.Partofmewantstoembarrasshim,andpartofmeissimply,overwhelminglycurious.
Butwe’reheretointerviewJamesabouthiscareer,nothisbrother,soIrestrainmyselfandaskhiminsteadaboutwherehedrawshisinspiration,howmuchtimehedevotestowritingeachday,whatthedraftingprocessislike.
“Forme,yousee,thewordsarelikesparrows,”hesays,rubbinghiseyes.Iblinkhard,butI’mnotimaginingit.Hisglassesare,apparently,framesonly;hisfingerspassrightthroughthem.“Icouldspendthewholedaychasingthem,butthey’donlystartleandflyawayfromme.It’smoreimportanttostaystill,andletthesparrowscomeontheirown.”
“Mm,”Isay,hastilytearingmygazeawayfromhisfakeglassestowritedownhisresponse.“That’sveryinteresting.”
“Now,obviously,therearedayswhenyoudohavetocoaxthesparrowsdownwithabitofbirdseed,”hecontinues.“Certaintypesofbirdseedworkbetterthanothers.Andsometimesyouthinkyouneedthepremiumbrand,butit’sinfacttheorganicbrands,ornotevenaparticularbrandatall—onlytheberriesyoupluckinthewild—thatarethemosteffective.”
“Um.Sorry.”Ipause.“I’msortofgettinglostwiththisanalogy.What?.?.?.?arethebirdseedsmeanttobe?”
“Nothing,”hesays.
“Oh,okay—”
“Andeverything,”hegoeson.“Iwillleavethattoyourinterpretation.Interpretationiscrucial,yousee.It’swhatthisisallabout.”
Juliuseitherrollshiseyesorfindsaveryinterestingspotintheceilingtostareat.Hehasn’tspokenmuchthiswholeinterview.
“Soareyouworkingasafull-timeauthornow?”Iask,movingdownthelisttothenextquestionI’veprepared.
“Oh,no.”Jamesthrowshisheadbackandlaughssoloudtheelderlywomanglaresoveratourtableagain.“No,no,no.God,no.Icouldn’tdothat—forone,itwouldbesuchawasteofmyHarvardLawdegree.Imean,anyonewouldkilljusttogetintoHarvard,youknow?I’dbeafooltothrowallthataside.Andmyprofessorswouldbecrushedtoo,seeingasI’mthemostpromisingstudentthey’vetaughtincenturies.Theirwords,obviously,notmine.”
“Yourprofessorsmustbeveryhealthy,”Isay.
Asoft,half-muffledsounddrawsmyattentiontoJulius.He’spressedahandtothelowerhalfofhisface,hisshouldersshaking,thenstillingjustforasecondbeforehelosesitagain,shakinghisheadtoo,asifhe’sannoyedhefindsitsofunnyinthefirstplace.Atleasthe’sstoppedlookinglikethetorturedsubjectofaRenaissancepainting.
“Hm?”Jamesjustlooksconfused.
“Seeingasthey’vebeenteachingforcenturiesandall.”
Hefalters,thenrecovers.“Well,they’resoexperienceditcertainlyfeelslikethey’vebeenteachingthatlong.Harvardisallaboutthehistory,youknow.”
Inotequietlythatthisisthetwenty-fifthtimehe’sbroughtupthewordHarvardinthepasttenminutes.IfHarvardwereaghost,hewouldhavesuccessfullysummoneditbacktolifebynow.“Soyou’renotwritingfull-time.Thatmustbehardtobalance,then.”
“Well,it’sworththefinancialstability.”Hefoldshishandstogether.“Thebookmoneyisreallyjustafunlittlebonus,butI’mdefinitelynotgoingtorelyonitforretirementoranythinglikethat.”
Inthebackofmymind,thewordsfromthearticleappearinscreaming,boldblacktext:soldforsevenfigures.That’shisideaofafunbonus?TheabsurdstatementalsoseemstohaveaninstantsoberingeffectonJulius,whodefinitelyrollshiseyesthistime.
“It’sreallymoreofasidehustleforme,”Jamessays.“Theoldsayingistrue:Don’tputallyoureggsinonebasket.NowI’veseparatedmyeggsintothelawbasket,andtheauthorbasket,andtheinvestmentbasket,andalsomydebatingcoachbasket?.?.?.”
EventhoughI’mtalkingtohim,I’mwatchingJulius.Heappearstobemutteringsomethingtohimself—eitherkillmeorcashmere,whichseemslesslikely.
“Yeah,sure,”Isay,distracted.“Ihearthatyou’vedonealotofdebating.”
“Absolutely.Itreallysetsyouupforsuccessinsomanyfields,evenifyoudon’tendupbecomingaprofessionalchampiondebaterlikemyself.That’swhyIalwaysencourageJuliustogetmoreinvolvedindebating.”HegivesJuliusalightshove.“Right,Ju?zi?”
Ialmostchokeonmyownsaliva.
Ju?zithrowsmeawarninglook,thenfrownsathisbrother.“Ithoughtwe’dretiredthatnicknamealready.Itmakesnosense.WhywouldIbecalledatangerineinChinese?”
“Why?Becauseit’ssoadorable.”Jamesgrins.“AndIreallymeanit,aboutthedebatingthing.Youdon’thavetofeelbadjustbecauseI’mnaturallygoodatit.Ifanything,youshouldbeencouragedbythefactthatwesharethesamegenes.It’simpossibleforyoutobeterrible,evenifyouaren’tquiteasgood—”
Juliusstandsup.“I’mgoingtogetussomedrinks.Youwantany?”Hedirectsthequestionatme,whichistrulyasignofhowmuchhedoesnotwishtobearoundhisbrother.That,andthefactthathewouldsoeagerlyvolunteerhimselfforanysortoftaskwithoutagoldstarorextracreditorcomplimentattachedtoit.
ButIthinkI’mstartingtogetit.TheviciouslookonhisfacewhenI’dbeatenhiminthatclassdebate.Whyhe’snevermentionedhisbrotherbefore.Whyhe’ssoruthlesslydeterminedtobefirstallthetime.Whyhe’sscowlingnow,thelinesofhisshouldertight.
Weplaceourorders.He’sstillscowlingwhenhereturnslaterwithaglassofwarmwaterforme,blackcoffeeforhimself,andsomesortofherbalinfusionteathatIthoughtpeopleonlypretendedtolikeintheorytoconvinceeveryoneelsethey’reonahealthkick.ButJamesdownsthedrinkinonegoandasksforarefill.
“Getityourself,”Juliusgrumbles.
Jamesmerelylooksoverathim,expectant.
Withasigh,Juliuspushesoffhischairagain.Whenhecomesback,we’rejustwrappingupJames’sfinalresponseabouthisplansforthenextyear,whichincludeafullyfundedtriparoundEurope,amajorfilmadaptationhe’sbothwritingforandproducing,andalectureatsomefancylawyers’convention.
“Thishasbeengreat,”hesays,beaming.It’sawonderhowhemanagestosmilesowidelyandspeakatthesametime.“Now,I’mgoingtogosignsomestockwhileI’mhere.It’llprobablytakeawhile—Ihavethousandsofcopiestogetthrough.”HegivesJamesanotherloudthumpontheback.“Youkidshavefunthough.”
Wedonothavefun.
Mostly,wetidyupournotesandsitinsilenceuntilIbreakitfirst.“Well.Wedefinitelyhaveenoughmaterialforthatfour-pagespreadnow?.?.?.?Actually,justhisdescriptionofthefive-starhotelhestayedatforhisdebutnovel’snationaltourisenoughmaterialforthespread.”
Juliusnodsalong,buthiseyesfollowhisbrotherasheshakeshandswithanenthusiasticfan.Theytakeaselfietogether,James’ssignaturewinningsmileandthecoverofhisdebutondisplay.Thefanappearstobebawling.
“Peoplealwaysactlikethataroundhim,”Juliusremarksunderhisbreath.“Evenourownparents.”
“Yourparents?.?.?.?alwaysaskyourbrothertoautographthecollaroftheirshirt?”IaskasJameswhipsoutagoldSharpieheapparentlyjustkeepsinhisfrontpocket.
Juliusletsoutasurprisedscoffoflaughter,provingmytheoryfromearlier.Hissmilesreallydofeellikemiracles.Especiallywhenyou’reonthereceivingendofthem.
Warmthspreadsthroughme,butthenIgivemyselfamentalkick.RemindmyselfofwhoI’mtalkingto.JuliusGong.Theboywho’smademylifeunbearableforthepasttenyears.Hewouldn’tevenbehererightnowifhewasn’tforcedtobytheprincipal.
“Ibettergohome,”Isay.
Hisexpressionflickers.“Sosoon?”
Ipause,caughtoffguard,andhisdemeanorchangesinresponse.Thesmileisgoneinaflash,thelinesofhisfacecarvedintotheirusualcool,unimpressedmask.
“Imean,aren’tyougoingtotranscribethenotesfirst?”heasks.“Surelyyoudon’tintendtoleavethatworktome?”
ThisistheJuliusGongIknow.TheJuliusGongIcancomfortablyhate.I’malmostrelieved.“I’lltranscribethem,”Itellhim,onlysowecanwrapthisupfaster.“I’llemailthefinalizedversiontoyoubymidnight.”
“Okay.Good.Youbetter.”
Ibegintoshoveeverythinginmybag,butheadds,“Ihearyou’rethrowingapartythisweekend?”
Myhandsfreezeovermynotebook.“Isthereaproblemwiththat?”
“Soyoureallyare.Hostingaparty.”Hestretchesthelastwordoutlikeit’ssomethingridiculous,likeI’mplanningtohouseanelephantororganizeaChristmasfeastinlateApril.“Why?”
“BecauseIfeellikeit,”Isay,defensive.I’mlying,ofcourse,butI’mmoreoffendedbytheimplicationthatIcan’tbethekindofpersonwho’dthrowapartyforfun.Thathethinkshehasmeallfiguredout.ThatI’manopenbooktohim,andhecanreadmeeasily,betterthananybodyelse.
“Youneverdoanythingjustbecauseyoufeellikeit,SadieWen,”hesays,flatteninghispalmsoverthetable.“Youmusthaveamultistepstrategy.Along-termobjective.OrelsewhyareyouinvitingpeoplelikeRosietoyourhouse?”
“Doesitmatter?”Irritationracesthroughmelikebrushfire.“It’snotlikeI’minvitingyou.”
Hisblackeyesglitter.Iwatchhisthroatmoveslightlybeforehereplies,hisvoicecold,“Iwouldn’thavecomeevenifyoudid.”
“Okay,”Isayflatly.Idon’ttellhimIhadconsideredinvitinghimthisafternoon;we’reinvitingmostoftheyearlevelanyway.Butnowthatthought—theveryfactthatI’devenentertainedtheidea—mortifiesme.WhywouldIevergiveJuliusareasontorejectme?Rejectionisthemosthumiliatingformofdefeat.It’slosingthebattlebeforeit’sevenbegun.It’sloweringyourweaponsotheycanspearyouinthechest.“Thendon’t.”
“Iwon’t,”hesays,hisjawtaut.
“You’vesaidthatalready.”
“Iwanttomakeitclear.”
“Don’tworry,it’sverycleartome.”
Weglareateachother,breathinghardasiffromphysicalexertion,mynailsdiggingintothemetalspiralofmynotebook.Nobodyelsehaseverhadthepowertofillmewithsuchpure,blisteringrage.TomakemesoangryIwanttoflipoveratable,stampmyfeetlikeascreamingtoddler,burnholesintothecarpet.BeforeIcandoanyrealdamage,Itakemythingsandleavewithoutevenbotheringtozipupmybag.
Butmyfingersitchthewholewayhome,andfortherestofday,asIcloseupthebakeryanddomydailyworkoutroutineandfinishmyhomeworkandbrushmyteeth,Ican’tthinkaboutanythingexcepthim.Ourschoolforcesustofilloutthesecareersurveysattwoseparatepointsintime:oneinyearfive,andoneinyeareleven.Theyassureusthatthesurveysareanonymous,soweshouldfeelcomfortablebeinghonest,buttheresultsalwaysenduppostedontheverypublicbulletinboardwithournamesattachedrightbelow.Well,themajorityoftheresultsanyway.Thestudentwho’dwrittensugarbabyfortheiranswerhadtheirstakendownwithinanhour.
Aquickglanceattheboardandyoucanprettyeasilyspottheemergingpattern.Thekidwhowantedtobeaplaywrightnowwantstobeanaccountant.Theboywhowantedtobeanastronautnowplansonbecomingapharmacist.Theonewhowantedtobeanartistnowhastheirsightssetonmedschool.Hobbiesaretradedformorestable,lucrative,practicalcareers.Dreamsareshatteredoncethemechanicsofgoingtothebathroominouterspacearetakenintogreaterconsideration.
ButforJuliusandme,ourcareergoalshavestayedconsistentthroughouttheyears.Inyearfive,wewerealreadyresearchingthehighest-paidjobsandthemostin?demanddegrees;him,becausehecravedtheprestige,andme,becauseIjustneededthefastestroutetothebestfutureformyfamily.Somethingthatpaidthebillsontime,thatguaranteedstabilityregardlessofwhatbecameofmybrother’ssportingcareer,thatwouldgivemymomsomethingtobragabouttothenosyaunties.Soonbothoccasions,hewrotedownlawyer,andIwrotedowndataanalyst
Abigail’scareerambitions,ontheotherhand,havejumpedallovertheplace.Herresultswerealistofcrossed-offandrewrittenanswers,coveringeverythingimaginable:professionaltaster,professionalequestrian,ballerina,fashionstylist,onlinedatingghostwriter(whichIdidn’tevenknowwasathing),andpartyplanner.
“Youknowwhat?Ireally,trulyfeelpartyplanningcouldbe,like,aviablecareerforme,”Abigailsaysasshebacksawayfromtheconfettimachineandsurveysmytransformedlivingroom.“Whatdoyouthink,darling?”
I’mthinkingthatthere’saliteralconfettimachineinmylivingroom.“It’svery,um?.?.?.”It’salot.IhavenoideawhatkindofbudgetAbigailisworkingwithhere.Frankly,I’mnotsureAbigailunderstandstheconceptofabudget;whenevershewantssomething,allshehastodoisaskherparentsandthey’llgivehertwoofit.It’snotthatshe’ssuperrichoranything.AbigailandherfamilyaresimplydevoutbelieversinthevalueofaGoodExperience,oflivinginthemoment.They’rethetypetospendamonth’sworthofsavingsforconcertticketstotheirfavoriteartist;tobookthetriptoItalynowandworryaboutthecostlater;tostayinthehotelroomwiththeoceanviewevenifit’stwiceasexpensiveastheregularrooms,becausewe’realreadyhere,sowemightaswellenjoyitproperly
Assomeonewho’sastrongadvocateofsavingupjustincaseacometcrashesintoourhouseandinsurancerefusestocoverit,it’sabitharderformetoenjoytheelaboratebouquetsofflowersandchocolatefountainAbigail’sboughtforthisoneoccasion.Ibarelyevenrecognizemyownhouse.She’sdimmedthelightsandplantedcandlesaroundtheplacesothewallsappeartobeashadeofpastelpink,obscuringallMax’smuddysneakermarks.Therearealsogiantcartonsofalcohollinedupalongthecouches.Idon’tknowwhereAbigailprocuredthemfrom,butIdoubthermethodswerefullylegal.
Asifmylistofworriesweren’talreadylongenough.
“I’monlyrentingtheconfettimachineforthenight,”shereassuresme.“It’sjusttosetthemoodfromthebeginning.Youwantpeopletocomeinandbelike,Wow,IcantellrightawayfromthequalityoftheconfettiscatteredcasuallybutstrategicallyacrossthefloorthatthiswillbethebestpartyI’veeverbeento”
Iletoutasnort.“Nobodythinkslikethat.”
“They’llthinkthatwhentheyseeyourhouse.”
“But?.?.?.?willtheyevencome?”Iworry,pressingmyearagainstthefrontdoor—becauseit’sacomfortableposition,ofcourse.NotbecauseIthinkthisisthemosteffectivewayformetobealertedandpreparemyselftheinstantIhearthesoundoffootstepsinmydriveway.“Wesaiditwouldstartatsixonthedotand—”Iglanceattheclock.“Andit’salreadyfiveforty-three.”
“Noteveryoneisaspunctualasyouare,”Abigailsays.“Yourideaoftenminuteslateisequivalenttotheaverageperson’sideaoftwentyminutesearly.Andtrustme,they’redefinitelygoingtowanttocome.They’drockuptoaserialkiller’shouseiftherewasthepromiseoffreebooze.”
“That’shighlyconcerning.Yourealizethat’shighlyconcerning,right?”
Sheshrugs.“Justhowitis.”
“Also—”Ipause.Frown.“I’msorry,didyoujustcomparemetoaserialkiller?”
“No,”shesays,withtoomuchemphasis.“Although,justtoputitoutthere,evenifyouwereaserialkiller,Iwouldabsolutelystickbyyouandsharpenyourknives.”
“Howsweet.”
“I’dalsocleanthebloodoffyourbathroomfloor,”sheaddsbrightly.“Iwasreadingthisfascinatingarticletheotherdayabouthowtousebasiclaundrydetergentstodojustthat.Youwouldn’thavetoworryaboutleavingbehindanyevidence.”
“Okay,wait.”Iholdupahand.“Inthis—franklydisturbing,highlyunrealistic—scenarioyou’veconjuredoutofnowhere,whyamImurderingpeopleinmybathroom?”
“Well,youwouldn’tbemurderingpeopleinyourkitchen.That’sjustunhygienic.”
Igrimace.“Ifearthisconversationhasgottenawayfromus.”
“Yeah,sorry,whatwerewetalkingaboutagain?Ohright.They’llshowup,Sadie,Ipromise—”
Beforeshe’sevenfinishedhersentence,thesoundofvoicesdriftsoverfromthefrontyard.
“Ohmygod,peopleareactuallycoming,”Isay,mythroatdrying.Allofasudden,itfeelslikesomeone’splayingkickballwithmyintestines.TheskirtI’mwearingistootight,thefabrictooitchy.
“See?I’malwaysright.”Abigailsmiles.Sherefastensthesasharoundhershimmerydress,fluffsupherhair,andgentlyguidesmeoutofthewaytoopenthedoor.“Hello,hello,”shecallsout.“Pleasedocomein.”
It’sRay.
He’srockedupwithfourotherguysfromourhistoryclass,andashestepsinsideinhisoversizedvarsityjacketandpristinetrainers,hiseyessweepingoverthepartydecorations,Iexperienceamomentofpure,heart-stoppingpanic.Whatifheisn’thereforthepartyitself?Whatifthey’vecoordinatedsomekindofattackonmyhouse?Whatifthey’regoingtoallstarteggingtheplaceorlaughingatme?Butthenheseesthealcohol,andhebreaksintoagrin.“Damn,IknewI’dcometotherightplace.”
“Welcome,”Isaytentatively.
“See,youguys?”Raycallstohisfriendsashemovespastme.“Toldyouthere’dbefreedrinks.Let’sgettheothersoverhereaswell.”
Heshootsoffamessageonhisphone,andinhardlyanytimeatall,dozensofpeoplestartpullingupinmydriveway.Abigailreallywasright.Ishouldn’thaveworriedaboutmyclassmatesnotshowing,evenwithmycurrentsocialstatus.Soon,there’ssolittleroomleftforparkingthatthecarsarelinedupallthewaydownthestreet,girlscheckingtheirlipstickandgigglingastheyjointhecrowdsstreaminginside.
Nobodyeggsmyhouse.Nobodystalksuptomeandslapsme.Nobodycallsmeabitch.ThoughIbracemyselffortheworsteverytimeIopenthedoor,peopleseemmoreimpressedthananythingbythealcoholsupplyandthedecorations.IevenmanagetogetalittlesmileandacomplimentonmyoutfitfromoneofRosie’sinfluencerfriends.
Slowly,mymusclesrelax.
Myheartunhooksitselffrommyribcage.Mybreathingevensout.
Thenthedoorswingsopenagain,andIfindmyselfstaringatthelastpersonintheworldI’dexpecttoappear.
“Whatareyouherefor?”IaskJulius.I’mtoosurprisedtoremembertosharpenmywords,toholdontomygrudgefromthebookstore.Todoanythingexceptstare.
Helooksjustasconfused,asifsomeoneelsehadguidedhimtomyhouse.He’scertainlynotdressedforaparty;he’swearinganavyblazerthatbringsoutthedarknessofhiseyes,thenaturalredtintofhislips.Butthenhisfeatureswrapthemselvesintoaperfectlittlescowl,andhestuffshishandsintohispockets,straightenshisspine.“Thesamethingaseveryoneelse,”hesays.“IheardtherewasfreeliquorsoIthoughtI’ddropby.”
Iblinkathim.“Ididn’tknowyoudrank.Actually,Irecallyousayinglastyearthattheonlybeveragesworthyourtimewerecoffeeandmineralwater.”
Hisskinflushes,thoughhisscowlremainsinplace.“PerhapsI’vechangedmymind.”
“Orperhapsyou’reheretomakefunofme,”Iguess.
“Thismaycomeasashock,butnoteverythingisaboutyou,Sadie.Idon’tcarewhosepartythisis;Isimplydidn’thaveanywherebettertogo,”hesays,hisvoicebored.
“Howsad.You’renotwantedinyourownhome?Youhavetocomebothermeinmine?”
Heflinches,thenrightshimselfagainwithcoolpoise.Thetwistofhismouthturnscruel.“Well,ifIcanmakeyournightalittleworse,whynot?I’llatleasthaveaccomplishedsomethinghere.”
Ileanagainstthedoorframe,myheartspeeding.HadIimaginedit?Strucksomeinvisiblenerve?WasitsomethingIsaid?ButwhenIassesshisface,hisgazeiscoldasstone;itseemsimpossiblehecouldfeelanyhumanemotionatall.
“Whatareyouwaitingfor?”Heglancesoverhisshoulderatmyfrontyard,thenbackatme,hisbrowsraised.“You’reblockingtheentrance.”
Irealizeit’strue.There’salreadyalineformingbehindhim,peoplesqueezingpastoneanothertoedgecloser.Isighandstepbackandtheyspillthroughthedoorallatonce.AguyI’veneverspokentobeforepausesonhiswayin,catchesJulius’seye,andcallsoutatthetopofhisvoicesoit’saudibleevenoverthethuddingmusic,“Cuteoutfit,JuliusCaesar.Areyouplanningonheadingtoajobinterviewsoon?Becausewiththatblazer,I’msurethey’dhireyou.”
Laughterbubblesupfromaroundthehouse.
Julius’sfacedarkens.“Areyousatisfied?”hehissesunderhisbreath,theaccusationstarkinhisgaze.“It’sallthankstoyou.”
Iswallow.Ican’tlie,Idofeelbad.Nodoubtthatcommentwasinspiredbyanotheroneofmyresponsestohisemails,whichhadunfortunatelybeenaddressedtoourentireclass.Thenewnicknameaswell.“I’llfixit,”Itellhim.“Icanfixit.I’vegotitundercontrolalready.”
“Doyouconsideryourselfagodorsomething?Howareyouplanningtofixit?”hedemands.
“I’mthrowingtheparty—”
“Hangon.Isthatwhatthisisabout?”Heshakeshisheadwithdisbelief.“See,Iknewyouhadsomekindofulteriormotive—”
“Don’tmakeitsoundsosinister,”Isnap.
“Don’tbesonaiveaboutthis,”heretorts,justasfiercely.“Youreallythinkyoucanjustputonsomeupbeatmusic,bringabunchofalcohol,andeveryonewillhavesuchawonderfultimetonightthey’llforgetyouinsultedasignificantportionofthestudentbody?”
“Well,it’sworking,”Isay.
Atleast,that’swhatitseemslike.Peopleareloungingonmycouch,chattinginthecorridors,drinksinhands,fallingoverthemselveslaughing,theirexpressionsopen,relaxed.Happy.Theairiswarmwiththeheatofbodiesandtheflickeringcandleflames.Asidefromthatguy’soneremark,theemailsmightaswellnotexistinthisspace.
“Ifyoutrulybelievethat,you’reabouttobeverydisappointed,”Juliusscoffs.“Andwhat’sthepointofhostingapartyifyouaren’tevenhavingfun?”
Itightenmyjaw.“Whatdoyoumean?I’mhavingplentyoffun.”Myeyessnaptothegroupofboysontheothersideoftheroom.“Infact,I’mjustabouttogoandtellthosepeopletostopdippingrawcabbageintothechocolatefountain.”
“Yeah,arealblast,”hemutters.ButwhenIturntogo,hestopsme.“Wait.”
“What?”Isayirritably.
Hehesitates.Runsaslow,self-conscioushandthroughhishair.“Dothey?.?.?.?reallylookbad?Myclothes,Imean.”
I’mdumbfounded—asmuchbythequestionasthefactthathe’saskingme.“Youlookhowyoualwayslook,Julius,”Imanage.
Hiseyesarewary.“Andhowisthat?”
“Completelypretentious,”Isay.Ishouldn’telaborateanyfurther,butsomethingaboutthestiffnessofhisposture,therarevulnerabilityinhisface,makesmeadd:“Inanicewaythough.”
ThenIbitedownonmytongueandmakeaquickexitbeforeIcansayanythingelseI’llregret.
???
Ishouldhavepreparedmyselfforthis.
I’veheardofithappeningatotherparties.I’veseenitplayoutinmovies.Iknowit’sapopularwaytopassthetime,especiallyoncethenoveltyofthechocolatefountainandconfettimachinestartstowearoff.ButIstillexperienceahorribleshockwhensomeonesuggests,twohoursintotheparty,thatweplayagameoftruthordare.
“It’llbefun,”Georginasays.Shearrivedaboutthirtyminutesago,withsparklybutterflyclipsinherhairandbluemascarastreakeddownhercheeks.Thewordhassincespreadthatshe’dbeendumpedbyagirlonhergymnasticsteamforoneoftheglamorousequestriansatanotherschool.“Ireallyjustwanttohavefuntonight,’kay?”
Iacceptedlongagothatmydefinitionoffuntendstodifferfromthegeneralteendemographic.Funisbakinganewbatchofeggtarts,orbeatingmypreviousrecordforthetwo-hundred-meterdash,oraddingmygradestomyacademicspreadsheet.It’snotrollercoastersorgettingwastedonabeachorparticipatinginagamethatrequiresyoueitherembarrassyourselforexposeyourselftoanumberofpeople.
ButI’mclearlytheonlyonewithreservations.
“Soundscooltome,”Raychimesin,andtheothersareallnodding,sittingthemselvesdowninacircle.
“Hey.”Abigailnudgesme.She’srarelysheepish,butthere’snootherwaytodescribethewayshe’ssmiling.“I’mso,sosorrytodothis,butIhavetoleaveearly.Mysister’scarjustbrokedownonafreewayandLiam’sbeenignoringhertexts—yes,again,Iknow,don’tgivemethatlook—butareyougoingtobeokayonyourown?BecauseIcan,like,figuresomethingelseoutifyouneedmeto.”
Idoneedyouhere,Iwanttosay.Don’tleavemeatthispartybymyself.Pleasedon’tgoyet.Butthewordssticktomythroat;I’veneverbeengoodataskingpeopleforthings.“No,that’scompletelyfine,”Itellher.“Go.”
“Givemeupdateslater,”shesays,grabbingherpurse.
“I’llmessageyou,”Ipromise.IfImanagetomakeitthroughthisalive,Iaddinsidemyhead,dreaddraggingitsice-coldfingersovermystomach.
Thefirstfewroundsofthegamearefairlytame.SomebodydaresRosietotextherex;shewhipsoutherphonewithouthesitatingandsendsthemaselfie.SomebodydaresRaytodofiftypush-ups,whichheperformswithsuchflair,thesleevesofhisshirtrolleduptoexposehismuscles,thatIhavetowonderifhe’darrangedthedarebeforehandjusttoshowoff.Someoneelseasksoneofthetheaterkidswhatherbiggestfearis,andsherespondswith“Therealizationthatlifeislittlemorethantheslowleakoftimeuntilwemeetourinevitabledemise,”whichsendseveryoneintoanuncomfortablesilenceforawhile.
Thenit’sJulius’sturn.
FranklyI’msurprisedhe’sstillhere.Evenmoresurprisedthathe’djointhegame.
“Whatdoyoupick?”Rosie’sfriendaskshim.
Juliusmanagestolookindifferentwhenhereplies,“Truth.”
Ofcoursehe’dpickthat,Ithinkscornfully.Godforbidanyoneforcehimtodosomethingunseemly,likemessuphishairstyle.
Rosie’sfriendgiggles.Peersathimunderherlonglashes.“Okay,then?.?.?.?Doyoulikeanyone?”
Ithasnothingtodowithme,butmyheartseizesasifI’vejustbeenelectrocuted.I’mblinkingtoofast,sittinguptoostraight.Ican’tcontrolmybody,can’tcontroltheweird,nervousfeelingflutteringthroughmyveins.Can’tstopmyselffromlookingathimasifIcanfindtheanswerwrittenoverhisface
Forthebriefestsecond,helooksbackatme.
Thenhefrownsandshakeshishead,once.“No.”Hisvoiceisfirm.
Thegirl’sfaceswiftlycrumplesinobviousdisappointment.InexplicablyIfeelapangofitechothroughmyownchest.
“Howboring,”Georginacomplains.“Youreallydon’tlikeanyone?Therearesomanyprettygirlsinouryearlevel.”
Juliusshrugs.“Youaskedforthetruth.”
“Fine.Nextperson,then.Truthordare,Sadie?”Georginaasks.Nowalleyesareonme,andtheairinthelivingroomsuddenlyseemstohaveweight.Icanfeelitpressingdownonme,crushingmyribs,sealingmynextbreathinsidemylungs.
Mythroatdries.IfIchoosetruthlikeJuliusdid,they’llmostdefinitelyaskmeabouttheemails,andIcan’taffordtoupsetanyonefurther.Allmyworkfortonight,thiswholeparty—it’llbefornothing.SoIreply,“Dare.”
Raygrins.“Dare,huh?”
Toolate,I’mhitwiththeterrible,sinkingrealizationthatI’vechosenwrong.Walkedheadfirstintoatrap.Ican’tevenimaginewhatthey’llthinkup.ThisiswhyIshouldhavebeenbetterprepared;Icouldhavethoughtthroughmyoptionsmorecarefully,madeupformylackofexperiencebydoingmoreresearch.
Rayduckshisheadandmurmurssomethingtohisfriends,andtheyhootwithlaughter.
“Isittoomuch?”thegirlsittingcross-leggednexttothemasks.
“Nah,it’sallforfun,right?”Rayreplies,hissmilewidening.“AndSadie’sagoodsport.”
Dreadsimmersthroughmyveinslikeacid.Iwringmyfingersinmylap,thencurlthembehindmyback.Nothinghelps.
“Okay.”Rayclapshishandstogetherwiththepompousairofagame-showhost.“We’vedecided.Wedareyou?.?.?.?tokissJulius.”
Mymindshutsdownonitself.
Icanonlygapeathim,unsureifthisistheirideaofajoke,ifI’vemisheard.Imusthave.There’sabsolutelynowaytheywouldaskitofme.Theyknowourhistorybynow,they’vereadtheemails,theyknowwe’vehatedeachotherforthepasttenyears—
Butofcourse,that’sexactlywhythey’reasking.
MygazecutstoJuliusagain.Ijustneedtoseehisreaction.Iexpecthimtolookdisgustedbytheidea,orenraged,orperhapsdelightedatmyimminenthumiliation.Buthisexpressionisunreadable.Heshowsnooutwardemotion,andsomehowthat’sworse.Maybethat’showlittleitaffectshim,howlittleitmeans.Maybethat’showlittleImatter.
It’slikethere’sastonelodgedinmychest,blockingthebloodfromrushingtomyheart.
“Well?”Raychallenges.
Iswallow.ForcemyselftomimicJulius’snonchalance.“Sure,whynot?”
Surprisedmurmursrisefromthecircle.EvenRaylooksstunned,likehe’dbeenwaitingformetoprotest.
AndJuliusisstaringatme,hisbrowsfaintlycreased.I’vemanagedtocatchhimoffguardaswell.Ifeelaflushofvictory,notsodissimilartothethrilloffinishingaheadofhiminarace.
“Comeon,”Isay,standingupandsmoothingoutmyskirt,prayingnobodycanseemyhandsquiver.It’sjustakiss,Itellmyself.It’sjustaboy.
Juliushesitates,thenpushesontohisfeettoo.Nobodyspeaks;they’reallwatchingus,deadlyfocused,anticipationbuildinglikethewindbeforeastorm.Thelightsseemtodimfurther,andthespacebetweenusfeelslikenothing,liketwentymiles,likeghostflames.
He’swaiting.Formetomakeafoolofmyself.Formetomakethefirstmove.
Iletmyangercarveawaymynervesandclosemyeyesandkisshim.It’ssofast,solightthatIonlyhavetimetoregisterthestartlingsoftnessofhislipsbeforeI’mreelingbackagain.
Ohmygod.
Ididit.
Iactuallydidit.
Theguysarelaughinginthebackground.Someoneelseiscallingmyname,butIcan’thearthem.Thisisn’taboutthemanymore.Thisisonlyaboutus,aboutthepainfulbeatofmyheart,theheatscorchingmyface.
Juliustouchesafingertohislipslikehecan’tquitebelieveiteither.Thenhestraightens.Cockshishead,hiseyesblackwithcoolamusement.“Youcallthatakiss?”hesaysonascoff.Hisvoicecomesoutlowerthanusual,andIcanseetheeffortinthemovementofhisthroat.“Thatwasbarelyanything.”
Theheatinsidemeflareshigher,incineratingalllogicandreservation.Iwanttoslapthatsmuglookoffhisface,butthenIthinkofsomethingevenbetter.
“Whataboutthis,then?”Ichallenge,andbeforehecanreply,Igrabthecollarofhisshirtandpullhimtome.
Thistime,whenourlipsmeet,Idon’tbackaway.Ideepenthekiss,lettingmyfingersslideuphisneck,curlintohishair.Foronemoment,Icanfeelhisshock,thetensionrunningthroughhisframelikeaheatedwire,andIthink:I’vewon.I’veprovenhimwrong.Thenhekissesmeback,pressesmecloser,andsomethinginsidemeslidesoff-balance.
It’snotmeanttobelikethis.Thethoughtishazy,distant,losttothesensationofhismouthonmine.
BecauseIwaslyingtomyselfbefore.Juliusisn’tjustaboy.He’smyenemy.Myequal.Mypointofcomparison.He’stheoneI’mconstantlytryingtooutrun,tooutsmart,toimpress.He’stheever-movingtargetinmyperipheralvision,thepersonI’vemappedallmyplansaround,thestartandfinishlineandeverythinginbetween.Allmydreamsandnightmaresareabouthimandonlyhim.
Ican’tconcentrate.Themostterriblepartofthisisthatitdoesn’tfeelterribleatall;notthewarmflushofhisskinagainstmineorthefirmnessofhisgriporthebreathlesssoundinthebackofhisthroat.
Iwanttostaylikethis.
Iwanttokeepgoing.
AssoonasIthinkit,white-hotpanicjoltsthroughme,revivingthelittlecommonsenseIhaveleft.No.No,Ishouldn’twantthis.Ishouldn’tbedoingthisatall.Ipushagainsthischestandheletsgoinstantly,eyeswide,handsdroppingtohissidesasifhe’sbeenjerkedoutofadaze.
Neitherofusspeaks,andI’mmortifiedtofindmyselfbreathinghard.Theharsh,unevensoundfillstheroom.
“Damn.”Someonewhistles.“Didn’tknowshehaditinher?.?.?.”
Onaregularday,thisalonewouldmakemecurlintoaballanddieonthespot.ButmyattentionispinnedonJulius.
“Excuseme,”hemurmurs,clearinghisthroat.Hewon’tmeetmyeyes.“I’mgoingtogooutsidefor—”Hemakesavaguegesturetothedoorwithoutfinishinghissentence,andthenhe’sstridingout,hisfootstepsquickandurgent,hisshoulderstensed.
Idon’tevenwanttoimaginehowredmyfaceisrightnow.
“I’malso,um—Ineedtograbadrink,”Isay.Myvoicesoundsodd,choked.“I-I’vealreadydonemydare.”
Nobodytriestostopme.
???
ThenightairwrapsaroundmewhenIstepoutside.
It’swarmerthanit’sbeenformonths,andIcanfindtheearlyhintsofspringinourbackyard.Thebuddingroses,thesweetscentoffreshgreengrass,thebirdsrustlinginthetrees.Abreezesnakesthroughmyhair,rufflesmyskirt.Theskyisadeep,starlessblack,butthefairylightstwinkleoverthebackporch,glowingpinkandblueandyellow,asifthestarshavefallendowntoearthinstead.
Juliusislookingupattheskytoo,theoutlineofhisframelitwithgold.Hisarmsrestovertherailing,andwhenIstepcloser,Inoticehimdigginghisnailsintohispalms.
Myfeetslowoverthewoodenplanks.Ipullatmysleeves,self-consciousallofasudden.Idon’tknowhowtoact,whattosay.Idon’tevenknowwhyIfollowedhimouthere.
ThenJuliusspinsaround,andsomanyemotionsflashoverhisfacethatIcan’tbegintodecipherthemallbeforethey’rewipedcleanagain,leavingjustone:anger.“Whydidyouhavetodothat?”
Thevenominhisvoicemakesmefreeze.“What?”Isay,confused.“Whatdoyoumean?I—Itwasadare.Theyaskedmeto.”
“Youwouldkisssomeoneyouloathejustbecauseofachildishdare?Justbecauseotherpeoplewantedyouto?”Contemptlaceshistone.Eachwordisanarrow,andhisaimlandstrueeverytime.“Dotheiropinionsreallymeanthatmuchtoyou?”
Thisissounreasonable,sodeeplyinsulting,I’mrenderedspeechless.Ican’tbelieveI’dkissedhimbareminutesago.Ican’tbelieveI’dlethimpullmecloselikethat—runhisfingersovermyskinlikethat—
Somethingblazesoverhisface,asthoughhe’srememberingittoo.
“What’swrongwithyou?”Ifinallychokeout.“Ifyoudidn’twanttokissme,youcouldhavejustrefused.”
“YouthinkIhadachanceto?Yougrabbedme—”
“Youstooduptoo,”Icutin,myvoicetremblingwithfury.“Youkissedmeback—”
“Itwasanaturalreflex,”hesays.“NotthatIexpectyoutoknow,but—”
“Who’stosayIwouldn’tknow?”
Thatshutshimup.
Hestaresatme.Throughthebrickwalls,thenoisefromtheparty—thepoundingofmusic,therattleofbottles,thehumofconversationpunctuatedbymuffledshrieksoflaughter—feelsahundredmilesaway.Likeitbelongstoanotherworld,anothertime,anotherplace.“That?.?.?.?wasn’tyourfirsttimekissingsomeone,”hesays.Ahalfquestion.
“Ofcoursenot.”Itwasonlymysecondkiss,butI’menjoyingthis,provinghisassumptionswrong.AndIdon’twanttogivehimanyreasontothinkthatwhathappenedjustnowwasspecial,thatitmeantsomethingwhenitdidn’t.Itshouldn’t.
“Who?”heasks.Afullquestionnow.
Ileanovertherailing,myheadturnedawayfromhim.“Whydoyoucare?”
“Idon’t,”hesaysheatedly.“ButIwanttoknow.”
“Well,Idon’twanttotellyou,”Isay,justtobedifficult.Justtodeprivehimofsomethingtoo,afterhestrippedmeofmypride.
“Doeshegotoourschool?”hepresses,thencorrectshimself.“No,thatisn’tpossible.I’msureIwouldhaveheardrumorsaboutit.”
Istaystrategicallysilent.
“Onvacation,then?Atcamp?”
He’sright.
Itmustshowonmyface,becausehepressesin,“Itwasatcamp,wasn’tit?Oneofthoseoutdooradventurecamps?”
TheideathatIwouldattendacamptolearnfunlittleskillslikewoodcuttingandweavingandmarshmallowbakinginsteadofsomethingacademicallyrigorousistoooffensiveformetoswallow.“Codingcamp,”Isay,thenseethesatisfiedcurveofhismouth.He’dbeenbaitingme.Ofcourse.HeknowsIwouldn’tbecaughtdeadwastingmysummeronacamplikethatwhenIcouldbegettingaheadofthecoursework.
“Soacodingcamp,”hesays,turningthisinformationoveronhistonguelikeit’ssomethingsour.“What’shisname?”
Myshouldershunchinself-defense.“Youseemawfullyinvestedinthedetailsforsomeonewhodoesn’tcare.”
“Ialreadytoldyou,Idon’t.”Hepauses,hislipssculptedintoasarcasticsmile.“I’mcurioustoknowwhowouldhavesuch—peculiartaste—tohavedatedyou.Unless,ofcourse,you’remakingitup—”
“I’mnot,”Isnap,pushingofffromtherailingandwhippingmyheadaround.Amisstep.Helooksdangerousinthedarkness,thescatteredlightssharpeningthehollowsofhischeekbones,thebladedlookinhiseyes.“HisnamewasBen.Heaskedmeoutafteroursecondseminartogether.Youcanlookhimup,ifyouwant.Hewasaswimmer,andhetutoredkidsduringspringbreak.Everyonesaidhewasattractive.”
Ileaveoutthepartwherehebrokeupwithmeonlytwoweeksafterourfirstdate.Thenightbeforethat,there’dbeenagameoftrivia,andmyteamhadbeatenhis.I’dgonetohimwhenitwasover,holdinguptheplastictrophyandbeaming,expectinghimtobeimpressed,buthehadn’tevencongratulatedme.Whenhedumpedmeoutsidethelectureroom,he’dsaiditwasbecauseIwastoointense.Everything’sacompetitionwithyou,Sadie,he’daccused,rubbingahandoverhisface.Youonlycareaboutwinning.Itjustgetsreallyexhaustingbeingaroundyouallthetime,youknowwhatI’msaying?Iwantsomeonewhocan,like,chillout.
It’sfunny,thinkingaboutitnow.BecauseJuliushasalsoaccusedmeofplentyofthingsinthepast,buthe’sneverfaultedmeforbeingintense.Forbeingtoomuchofanything.Forwantingtowin.He’spartofthereasonwhywinningisworthit.
“Didyou?.?.?.?thinkhewasattractive?”Juliusasks.Thewordssoundforcedout
Iconsiderthis.Yes,Icouldunderstandonageneral,biologicallevelwhyothersfoundBenattractive.Hehadaswimmer’sbody,thicklashes,asmilelikethesun.EverytimeIthinkabouthimIassociatehimwithsummer:saltairandwarmsandandopenwaves.NothinglikeJulius,withhiscoldglancesandsharpedges.Juliusisthedeadofwinter,iceonyourtongueandwhitefrostandtheghostofyourbreathinadarkhall.
ButIdon’ttellhimthat.“Yeah,”Isay,liftingmychin.“Ofcourse.Andhewasagreatkissertoo.”
He’ssilent.
Itmakesmenervous.“What?Areyoujealous?”Isayitonlytoprovokearesponseoutofhim,toannoyhim.
WhatIdon’texpectisforhischeekstoflush.Forhishandstobunchintofists.“WhywouldIbejealous?”hedemandswithasneer,distastewrittenalloverhisface.“Iwouldratherdiethankissyouagain.”
Shameburnsmyskin.Itfeelslikemywholebodyhascaughtfire.Theflamesshootthroughmybloodstream,fillmythroat,scaldtheinsideofmylungs.Ithurts.Ithurtssomuchthattheonlywaytodistractmyselffromitiswithrage.Theneedforrevenge,tohurthimback,hurthimmore.IlurchforwardanddothefirstthingIcanthinkof:Ikickhim.Hard,rightintheknee.ThesoundofimpactisevenlouderthanIanticipated,aterriblysatisfyingthudthatvibratesthroughmyownbones.
Heletsoutahiss,partpainandpartsurprise.“Haveyoucompletelylostyourmind,Sadie?”
“Youdeserveit,”Isayhotly,mybloodpoundinginmyears.Myheadisbuzzing.Nothingaboutthisnightfeelsreal.
“Sadie—”
ButI’vewastedenoughtime.Itwasanawfulideatofollowhimouthereinthefirstplace.WhathadIbeenlookingfor?WhathadIexpectedfromJuliusGong?Sowhenhecallsmeagain—maybetodemandanexplanation,maybejusttothrowoutanotherinsult—Iignorehim.Itossmyhairovermyshoulderandmarchbackintothehouse,slammingthedoorbehindmesohardtheglasspanesrattle.Thehousehasdescendedintocompleteanarchy.
Forafewmoments,Icanonlystandthereandtakethescenein,mymouthagapewithhorror.Someone’spouringliquorintooneofmymom’sfavoriteporcelainvasesandusingitasagiantwineglass,thecitrusscentofalcoholwaftingintotheairsostrongIcanalmosttasteit.Threecouplesaremakingoutonthecouchinonerow,asifthey’reinacompetitiontoseewhocanmakethemostdisturbingsoundsorflashthemostskin.Thediningtablehasbeenpushedbacktomakeroomforanoisygameofbeerpong;allthechairsarestackedup,thefruitbowlsetdownonthefloor.Everynowandthen,ayelloffrustrationordelightisfollowedbyachorusofcheers.Therearewrapperseverywhere,half-emptyplasticcups,glitterfromgodknowswhere.Evenworse,I’mnownoticingthatpeoplearewearingtheiroutdoorshoesindoors,leavingmuddymarksalloverthebeigecarpet.
Itrytotakeadeepbreath,butIendupchokingonit.
Thisisanightmare.
Andthisisentirelymyfault.
I’veneverfeltsofoolish,sohelpless.Ishouldn’thavehostedthisparty.Benwasrightaboutme.I’mnotthekindofgirlwhocanchillout,thekindofpersonwhoinvitesthewholeyearleveltotheirhouseandsitsbacktoletthedestructionhappen.Ineedtogeteverythingundercontrol.“Canyoupleasesetthosedown?”Iasktheboyclosesttome.He’sonthebaseballteam,andhe’scurrentlyjugglingfiveapplesatonce.
Butthemusichasbeenturneduptofullvolume,theheavybassshakingthewalls.Myvoiceisallbutdrownedout.
“Hello?”Itryagain,louder,strainingmyvocalcords.Whenthatdoesn’twork,Itaphisshoulder.
“What?”Theboyglancesatmewithoutpausing.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Theapples—you’regoingtohitsomething—”
Thewordshavebarelyleftmymouthwhenhishandslipsandoneoftheapplesgoesflying.Itknocksoverthepottedplantonthebookshelf.Theclayshattersatonce,allthedirtspillingoutontothefloor.
“Oops,”hesaysfaintly.“MaybeIcan—”
“No—no,it’sokay.”Ieyetheremainingapples,terrifiedthey’regoingtoenduphurtlingacrosstheroomtoo.“Youjust?.?.?.?staythere.Icanhandlethismyself.”
Ipushpastthesweatydancingbodiesandgigglingclustersoffriendsandheadstraightforthecleaningcabinetinthelaundryroom,butoneofthefootballteamstarscomesstaggeringout.JonathanSok:tall,tan,handsome,andfamouslyterribleatholdingdownhisliquor.He’sswinginganemptybeerbottleandstraddlingouronlybroomlikeit’sahorse.
“Lookatmyhorse,”hecallsoutwithglee,gallopingaroundthecrampedspaceinacircle.He’ssodrunkthathiswordsarebarelycoherent.Buthekeepstalking.“Lookatmyhorse—lookatmyhorse—lookatmyhorse—”
“Yes,Icansee,”Isay,tohumorhim.Mostly,Ijustwantmybroomback.“Ifyoucouldpleasegiveitbacktome—”
“It’sahorse,”heprotests,pouting.“HernameisWendy.”
I’mtootiredtositaroundanddebatethenameofaninanimateobject.“Sure,whatever.Ireallyneedtocleanthismessup?.?.?.”
Heprancesoutoftheway.Upuntilthisverymoment,Ididn’tthinkpeoplecouldactuallyprance.“You’llhavetocatchmefirst,”hesays.
“No,thisisn’tagame—”Ireachforthebroomatthesamemomenthetwirlsaroundonthespot,promptlysmackingmeinthefacewiththehandle.
Itdoesn’thurtthatmuch.Notenoughtoleaveabruise.Butthesheerphysicalshockofitsendsmereelingbackward,clutchingmycheek.Itfeelslikeit’sknockedsomethingaskewinsideme.OrmaybeI’malreadyoff-balance;maybeIhavebeensinceIgrabbedJuliusandkissedhim,orsinceIkickedhimoutside.MaybethisisoneofthoseJengablockscenarios,wherethewholestructureisshaking,unsteady,andallittakesisasinglewrongmove—orinthiscase,anunfortunatecollisionwiththeendofabroomstick—foreverythingtocomecrashingdown.
“Okay,youknowwhat?”Idropmyhandfrommysoreface.JonathanSokgapesupatmewithblearyeyes,toodazedtobefullyapologetic.“Thisparty’sover.”
“Huh?”
“Isaid,it’sover.”MyvoicecomesoutlouderandharsherthanImeant,andtheconversationsaroundmediedown.Theairseemstocongeal.“Ineedtocleaneverythingupandtherearewaytoomanypeoplesoifyoucouldpleasealljust?.?.?.?Idon’tknow.”
There’saterriblepause.Themusic’sturnedoff,andtheimmediatesilenceisdeafeningbycontrast.Icanhearmyownearsringing.
“Well,fine.Jesus,”somebodymutters.Theytosstheirbottleintoabin,grabtheirjacket,andturntogo.It’snotlongbeforetheothersfollowinastaggeredline,collectingtheirbagsandfumblingaroundfortheirphones,thesoberonesjanglingtheircarkeys.Afewstopbytothankmeforhostingtheparty,orapologizeformakingamess,butmostofthemdon’tevenlookatme.
Somuchforfixingthings.
Myfaceandeyesburn.Slowlythehouseemptiesout,leavingmewiththedirtonthefloor,theoverturnedvasesandchairs.Itfeelslikesomeone’sscrapedmyinsidesraw.It’safeelingworsethancrying,becausethere’snoescape,nowhereforthedisappointmentandshametogo.
Atwhatpoint,Iwonder,staringatthefrontdoorasitswingsshutonelasttime,doessomethingbecomeunfixable?Atwhatpointisatapestryriddledwithsomanyholesandloosethreadsthatit’simpossibletopatchitupagain?Thatitdeservestobethrownawayinstead?
“Wow.Thisplaceisamess.”
Ijumpatthevoice,myheartbeatpoundinginmythroat.
I’dthoughtthateveryonehadleft,butwhenIspinaround,Juliusisthere.He’sstayed.There’sanunfamiliarexpressiononhisface,somethingconflicted,somethingalmostsoft,likethere’sanacheinhim.Intheorangeglowofthelivingroomlights,helooksfarmorevulnerablethanhehadoutside,againsttheshadowsandsky.
Iwonderifhe’sgoingtomakemeapologizeforkickinghim.I’mnotsureI’dbeableto,evenifIdofeelafaintpinchofguilt.
Buthedoesn’tsayanythingelse.Hesimplyrollsuphissleevesandstartssmoothingoutthecushionsonthecouch.
Istareathim.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Hedoesn’tglancebackup.“Whatdoesitlooklike?”
“I?.?.?.”Nowordscomeout.Ihalfexpectittobeatrick,butthenhecrouchesdowntocleanuptheconfettionthefloor,hiseyesdarkandclear,hisfaceserious.
Tentatively,Ijoinhim.Neitherofusspeaks,butthesilencenolongerfeelslikeadeathblow.Ifanything,itfeelspeaceful.Ifocusontherepetitivemotions,theeasyrhythmofthetask,thehushedswishofthebroom.Maybeit’sbecausewe’vealreadyworkedtogetherbeforeonthebikeshed,butweseemtounderstandeachother.Hegrabsthetrashcanwithoutmeevenhavingtoask;IpasshimthewaterwhenInoticehimreachingup.
Inonepsychologyclass,theteacherhadexplainedtoushowmemoriesareformed.Whatkindofmemoriesstickwithusovertheyears.It’snotalwaystheonesyouthinkmatterthemost,thetypicalmilestones.Like,Ican’treallyrememberwhatwedidformythirteenthbirthday,ortheSpringFestivalthatyearweflewtoChina,orthedayIreceivedtheprestigiousAllRounderAward.
ButIdoremembercominghomefromschooloneafternoonandsmellinglemoncakeinthekitchenandsharingitwithmymotheronthesenewprettyporcelainplatesshe’dboughtondiscount.IrememberarandomSaturdayfromnineyearsago,whenMaxandItriedtoluretheduckshomewithlittlebitesofbread.IrememberthefaceofanoldwomanI’dpassedonthestreet,theprecisefloralpatternsofhershirt,thedandelionsewnintoherhandbag,eventhoughweneverspokeandIneversawheragain.
AndIknow,evenasthepresentisunfolding,thatI’llalwaysrememberthis.Thegleamofconfettionthehardwoodfloor.Thenightfallingaroundus.ThedarkstrandofhairfallingoverJulius’seyes.Thequietthatfeelslikeatruce,areprievefromthewar,somethingmore.
“So,”JuliussaysashecarefullyremovesapartyhatfromoneofMom’swoodstatues.“Ithinkit’ssafetosayyouwon’tbethrowinganotherpartyanytimesoon?”
Imanageasnort,asiftheideaitselfdoesn’tmakemenauseous.“No.No,Iprobablyshouldn’thavethrownthisone.Ijustwanted?.?.?.?Ijustthought?.?.?.”
“Youthoughtit’dmakeupfortheemails.”
It’ssoembarrassingtohearitspokenaloud,byJuliusnoless.Itsoundssopathetic.
“Butwhy?”hepresses.
Isweeptheremainingconfettiupintoasmallpile.“Whatdoyoumean,why?Ididn’thavemanyotherchoices.It’snotlikeIcouldhaveaffordedtosendeachpersonapersonalizedapologyletterandexpensivegiftboxforemotionaldamage.”
“Imean,whydoyouthinkyouhavetomakeeveryoneforgiveyou?Whatistheretoforgive?Notsayingthatyouwererighttowritethoseemails,”headdshastily,catchingthelookonmyface.“ButIreadtheoneyousentRosie.Shestoleyoursciencefairidea.Ifwe’rereallytalkingaboutforgiveness,shouldn’tshealsobeaskingyoutoforgiveher?”
Idon’tknowwhattomakeofthis.Ihaven’tgivenanythoughttowhatothersmightoweme,onlywhatIowethem.“That’s?.?.?.?different,”Isayeventually.“She’smoreupset.”
“You’reupsettoo.”
“Yeah,butshedoesn’tseemtocare,andIdo.Ireally—”Mybreathcatchesinmythroat.Ibowmyhead,dumptheconfettiintoaplasticbag,watchingtheartificialcolorscatchthelightastheyswirlthroughtheair.“Ireallycan’tstanditwhenpeopleareangryatme.Like,Iknowitmightbesimpleforothers,butIcan’tfocusonanythingelse.Ican’tjustforgetaboutitandgoonwithmyownlife.It’slikethere’ssomethinghardwedgedinsidemychest.I’llalwaysfeelguilty.I’llalwayswanttomakeamends.”
Hedoesn’treply,andIrealizeI’vesaidwaytoomuch.
“Forgetit,”Imumble.“Youwon’tunderstand.”
“I’mtryingto.”
Myheadjerksup,andwhenImeethiseyes,Iexperiencearoaringrushofheat.“Why?”Iflingthequestionbackathim.
Heholdsmygazeforasecond.Two.Three.Icounteachoneasitpasses,thewayIcountmyownstaggeredbreaths.Thesilencestretchesoutlikeastring—thenhesetsdownthehalf-filledplasticbaginhishand,thecrushedcansandcontainersrattlinginside,andthesilencesnaps.“Idon’tknow.”Heclearshisthroat.Motionstowardthesittingroom.“I’ll?.?.?.?Ishouldgocleanupinthere.Ibelievesomeonewastryingtore?createtheEiffelTowerwithyourtextbooks.”
Inod,once.LikeIcouldn’tcarelesswherehegoes.“Okay.Thanks.”
Imakeaconsciouseffortnottostareafterhimasheleaves.Anevenmoreconcentratedefforttostayinthelivingroom,tokeepthedistancebetweenus,tonotdwelltoohardonourconversation.Butthankstohim,there’snotmuchleftformetoclean.OnceI’vemoppedandvacuumedupthelastofthedirtandpushedthecouchesbacktotheiroriginalpositions,Ipauseatthedoorway.
Everythinghasalreadybeentidied.He’sstandingatmydesk,hisgazedrawndowntothephotoinhishand.He’ssofocusedthathedoesn’thearmewalkoveruntilI’mrightbehindhim.
“Ididn’tmeanto—”Hespinsaround.Flushes.“IswearIwasn’tsnooping.Someonepulledoutthisalbumfromthecabinetandafewofthephotosfelloutand?.?.?.”
Myeyesfindthephototoo,andmyhearttwists.
It’sanoldfamilyphoto,takentenyearsago.We’reatahotpotrestaurant,thefourofussqueezedaroundtheroundtable,theplatesspreadoutinfrontofus.Maxislittlemorethanakid,hishairspikyandhischeeksround.He’swearingthatbasketballjerseyhelovedsomuchhe’drefusetotakeitoffeventowashthetoothpastestainsonthefront.Mymom’sdressedupinherfavoritecardiganandturtleneck,herravenhaircurledandstyledinawayithasn’tbeensincethatnight.Andmydad’sgazingoveratmewithsuchpridethatithurtstoinhale.Welook?.?.?.?happy.Itmustbetheworld’sgreatestmagicshow;it’ssoconvincing,evenifit’sfalse.Madeup.Make-believe.Becauselessthanamonthafterthephotowastaken,hehadleft.
“I’veneverseenyourfatherbefore.”Hesaysitcarefully,becauseI’msureheknowsbynow.Theyallknow,tosomeextent,nomatterhowhardwe’vetriedtohideit,tosmoothoutthevisiblelumpinthecarpet.Whenyourdaddoesn’tshowuptoasingleFather’sDaybreakfasttenyearsinarow,peopleareboundtosuspectsomething’soff.
“Heprobablydoesn’tlooklikethatanymore,”Isay,takingthephotofromhim.Iresisttheurgetoripitintoshreds.Tohugittomychest.“Imean,Iwouldn’treallyknow.Maybehe’sgrownabeard.”Itwasoneofthosethingswealwayslaughedabout.Ipreferclean-shavenmen,mymomhadinsistedwheneverheraisedtheidea.Thedayyougetabeardwillbethedaywegetadivorce.Itusedtobearunningjokeinthefamily.
Juliuspeersoveratme,stillinthatcareful,attentiveway,likethefloorismadeofglass.Youwon’tunderstand.I’mtryingto.“Isithard?Nothavinghimaround?”
“No,”Isayinstinctively.Forceofhabit.I’verepeateditsomanytimestomyselfthatmostdaysIbelieveit.Islidethephotobackintothefadedalbum,snapitclosed,butforsomereason,Ikeeptalking.“Imean,Idon’t?.?.?.?Maybeit’snotthatImisshim.Buttherearetimeswhen—whenIwonderwhatit’dbelikeifhewerestillhere.LikewhenmymomandIgotintoafightlastsummeroverwhohadlostthephonechargerand,asshewasyellingatme,Ijustfoundmyselfwishing?.?.?.?hewastheretostepin.Totellmeitwasokay.Tocomfortmeandtakemymomoutsideuntilwe’dbothcalmeddown.
“Or,asridiculousasitsounds,whenwegotomyfavoriterestaurant.Mymomandmybrotherbothhavethesametastes,youknow—theyhatespicyandsourfoods.ButmydadandIwouldalwaysgetthissourstir-friedchickendish.Theyonlymakeitinservingsoftwo,sonow?.?.?.?nowIneverorderit.BecauseIdon’thaveanyonetoshareitwith.”
Becausehavingoneparentisenough.
Untilitisn’t.
“Sowherewasyourbrotherinallofthis?”heasks.
Iblink,confused.“Mybrother?”
Henodstowardthealbum,seeminglyconfusedbymyconfusion.“He’stheeldestinthefamily,right?Shouldn’thehave?.?.?.?Idon’tknow,steppedin?”
“No.No,butit’snothisfault,”Iaddquickly,catchingthefaintfurrowbetweenhisbrows.Ofcoursenot.It’sallyourfault,acool,familiarvoicewhispersinmyhead.Youweretheonewhoruinedeverything.“HetookitharderthanIdid.Irememberthatheusedtobeprettywell-behaved,butafterourdadleft,hekindofjust?.?.?.?gaveup.Hestartedditchinghisclassesandhandinginhishomeworklateandgettingintotroubleatschool.Honestlytheonlythinghestillseemedinterestedinwasbasketball—withoutthat,I’mnotsureifhe’dhavegottenintocollege.”
Juliusabsorbsthiswithoutanyoutwardemotion,buthehasn’tlookedawaytheentiretime.
“Sorry,”Imumble,steppingpasthimandshovingthealbumintothecabinet.Idon’tknowwhat’sgottenintome,whyI’msuddenlyspillingoutmygutstoJulius
“Whatareyouapologizingfor?”heasks.
“Sorry,Ididn’tmeanto,”Isay,thencatchmyself.Asnortlurchesoutofme,andtheiceinsidemychestthawsslightly.“Okay,no,actually,Itakeitback—I’mnotsorry.Atall.Aboutanything.”
“Youcertainlydidn’tseemsorryaboutkickingme.”
Itense,butwhenIlookup,thecornerofhismouthiscurvedup.Likewe’resharinganinsidejoke.BeforeIcanrelax,heslidesonefootcloser,andtheairbetweenussuddenlyturnsmolten.
“Youalsodidn’tseemtoosorryabout?.?.?.”Hetrailsoffonpurpose,buthiseyesflickerdowntomylips.Lingerthere,forabeattoolong.
ThisissomethingelseIknowI’llalwaysremember,nomatterhowhardItrytoscrubitfrommymemory,topretendotherwise.
ThatIhadkissedJuliusGong.
ThatI’dkissedhim,andwantedit.
Theheatintheairspreadsthroughmyveins,andItwistaway,searchingforadistraction.Fromhim.Fromthiswholenight.Fromthestuffyfeelinginmychest,thecrushingweightofeveryone’sdisapproval,theconsequencesoftheparty.Easily—almosttooeasily—Ifindit.There’sabottleofbeerleftonthedesk.Unopened.Untouched.Myfingerstwitchtowardit.
CouldI?
It’sastonishingthatI’mevencontemplatingit.Itwouldbeimpulsive,foolish,completelyunlikeme.ButhowmanyimpulsivethingshaveIdonetonight?Wouldanotherreallymakeanydifference?
There’safalseassumptionpeopletendtomakeaboutme:TheybelievethatallIcareaboutisbeingthebest.ThatthecloserIamtothetop,thehappierIam.Thatifitcomesdowntoit,a30percentisbetterthanazero;thatbeingmediocreisatleastbetterthanbeingbad.ButIswingbetweenextremes.IfIcan’tbethebest,Iwouldratherbethebestatbeingtheworst.IfI’mgoingtofail,Iwouldratherfailatitthoroughlythandoajobhalfway.
AndifI’mgoingtoself-destruct,thenwhystopatkissingtheenemy?
“Youdon’twanttodrinkthat,”Juliussays,hisvoiceslicingthroughmythoughts.He’sstudyingme,hisheadtiltedtothesidelikeabirdofprey.Hesoundssoconfident.Likeheknowsbetter.Likehealwaysknowsbetter.
It’sinfuriating—andit’sexactlywhathelpsmemakeupmymind.
Iuncapthebottle,holdinghisgazethewholetimeinchallenge,andtakealong,deliberateswig.Theliquidburnsmymouth,somuchstrongerthanI’dbeenpreparedfor.Ittasteslikefire.Rushesstraighttomyhead.
Icough,spluttering,butIkeepgoing.
Thefirstfewmouthfulsaredisgusting.Bitterandbiting,likemedicinebutheavier,withanunpleasantaftertaste.Ican’tbelievethisiswhatadultsmakeabigfussabout.Ican’tbelievepeoplepayrealmoneyjusttoendurethis.Butthenmybodystartstowarmupfromwithin,andmyheadstartstospin.NormallyIwouldhateit:thelossofcontrol,thedisorientation.Buttonightitsmoothsoutthesharpedges,dialsdownthebackgroundnoisetoalovelyhum,numbsthepanginmychest.
Thenextfewmouthfulsaremucheasiertoswallow.Itstilldoesn’ttasteverygood,butIkindoflikethewayitscorchesmythroat.
Idrinkquickly,encouragedbyJulius’smutedsurprise.Thatshouldshuthimup,Ithinktomyself.I’vealmostfinishedtheentirebottlewhenItwirlitaroundtocheckthelabel,andrealizethatitisn’tbeerafterall.It’sbourbon
“Oh,”Isay,settingthebottledown.“Oh.Crap.”
NowonderI’msodizzy.
ItoccurstomethatIshouldbemoreconcerned.Thatthisisvery,very,verybad.Butthepanicstaysonthesidelines,likeaspiderinaneighboringroom:notsocloseastonecessitatearesponsejustyet.Ifanything,Ifeelperfectlyfine.
“Thiswouldbeaveryinconvenienttimetofindoutyou’realightweight,”Juliusmutters.
Isquintathim.Searchhisface.Andmaybeit’sbecauseofthisnewwarmth,thisdreamysensation—bothlikefallingandlikefloating—thatIfindmyselfmarvelingathowwell-definedhisfeaturesare.Nothandsome,liketheprincesinfairytales.Butbeautifulandcoldanddeadly,likethevillainswe’retaughttofear.“I’mnotalightweight,”Iinformhim,pronouncingeachwordloudlyandcarefully,asproof.“Iwaskindofworriedjustnow—like,literally,asecondago—thatIwouldbedrunk,butnowIthink?.?.?.”Iclosemyeyes.Scanmybody.Openthemagain.“I’mactuallyokay.Idon’tthinkit’smadeanynoticeabledifference?Wow,yeah.It’ssowild.Ican’tbelieveI’mjust,like,absorbingthisalcoholintomybloodstream.Ithasn’timpededmyspeechonebit.Icouldgotoschoollikethis.Icouldtakeatestlikethis.Grantedthatit’sinasubjectI’vestudiedbefore.”
Amusementtoucheshismouth.“Right,”hesays.“Ofcourse.”
“Doyouwantsome?”Iaskhim,offeringupthelittleremainingliquortohim,sinceit’sonlypolite.“Itdoesn’ttastethatdisgustingonceyougetusedtoit.”
Hegentlypushesthebottlebackdown.“No,thanks.”
“Whatdoyouwant,then?Icangiveittoyou.”
Thisshouldbeasimpleenoughquestion.Multiplechoiceatmost.Buthefaltersasifhe’sreceivedathree-thousand-wordessayprompt.Swallows.Looksaway.“Nothing,”hesaysatlast.“Idon’t—wantanything.”
“Areyousure?You’re,like,turningred.”MaybeIshouldn’tbepointingthisout.AsmallvoiceinthebackofmyheadtellsmethatI’mnotsupposedto.Butwhy?Whynot?It’snotlikeI’mlying.Ishiftforward,justtogetacloserlook.AndI’mright.Hisneckisflushed,thecolorseepingthroughhischeeks.“It’sreallyobvioushere,”Isay,tracingoutthelineofhiscollarbonewithonefingertip.Evenhisskinisunnaturallyhot.
Somethingflashesoverhisface.Hewetshislowerlipandstepsback.
“Isitsunburn?Ohwait,thatmakesnosense.”Ilaughatmyself,laughlikeit’sthefunniestthingintheworld.Everythingstrikesmeashilariousnow.“Youcan’tgetsunburntatnight.Or?.?.?.?no.Canyou?Isthat,like,apossibility?Isthissomethingthatcouldcomeupinournextsciencequiz?”Ihavetheoverwhelmingurgetofindout,rightthissecond.Imustknow.Ihatenotknowingthings.“Alex?”Icall.
Noresponse.
“Alex?”Icallagain,louder,spinningaround.“Hello?Areyouthere?”
Juliusstaresatme.“IstherearandommannamedAlexhidinginsideyourhouse?OrdidyoumeanAlexa?”
“Isn’tthatwhatIjustsaid?”Idemand,annoyed.“Alexis?Alexis,canyouhearme?Answerme.Ireally,reallyneedtoknowifyoucangetsunburntafterdark.Thisisincrediblyimportant.”
“Again,it’sAlexa,”Juliussays.
“Bequiet.”Iclampbothmyhandsoverhismouth.“You’reprettierwhenyoudon’ttalk.”
Hemakesafaint,increduloussoundthat’smuffledbymypalm,hisbreathticklingmyskin.Hisexpressiondoesn’tchangemuch,butIcansensehissurprise,howitflickersbeneaththesurface.“Didyoujustcallmepretty?”
“Whenyoudon’ttalk,”Iemphasize.“Whichyou’redoingatpresent.”
“Soyouadmitit.”
“What?”I’vealreadylosttrackofourconversation.MaybeIamdrunk.Ormaybemymemoryisdeclining.That’saterrifyingthought.Butthenmyattentionshiftstothestraystrandofhairtumblingoverhisforehead.Iwanttoreachforhim,brushitback.Don’tdoit,thatsamevoicewhispers,butitsoundsmoreandmoredistantbythesecond.Inconsequential.SoIgiveintotheimpulseandleanforward,smoothinghishair.“It’ssosoft.Evensofterthanitlooks,”Imurmur,playingwithadarklockofitbetweentwofingers.He’sgoneverystillbeforeme,hispupilsblackanddilated.Icanfeeltheairripplewithhisnextexpelledbreath,almostapainedsigh.“Ialwaysdidlikeyourhair.”
“Ithoughtyouhatedit,”hesays.Hisvoiceisscratchy,likehe’sswallowedsand.
Ifrown.Tugabsentlyatthestrand.“DidIsaythat?”
“Youdid.Inyouremail.”Andthenwithhiseyesonme,withouthavingtopauseorthinktwice,herecites,“Fromthebottomofmyheart,Ireallyhopeyourcombbreaksandyourunoutofwhateverexpensivehairproductsyou’vebeenusingtomakeyourhairappeardeceptivelysoftwhenI’msureit’snot,becausethere’snothingsoftaboutyou,anywhereatall.”
They’remywords,butonhislipstheysounddifferent.Intimate.Confessional.“Howdoyou?.?.?.?rememberallthat?”Iask.
“Ihaveallyouremailsmemorizedwordforword,”hesays,theninstantlylookslikeheregretshavingspoken.
“Youdo?”Mymouthfallsopen.
“No.”Hescowls.“No,forgetIsaid—”
“Youdo,”Isay,anaccusationthistime.“Ohmygod,youtotallydo.”Istartlaughingagain,laughingsohardIstumblebackandlandonthefloorandclutchatmystomach.IlaughuntilI’mbreathless,untilIcan’tfeelanypaininmychest,untilnothingelsemattersexceptthis.Whenmymirthfinallydiesdown,Igrinupathim.“Well,JuliusGong.Itsoundslikeyou’retheoneobsessedwithme.”
Herollshiseyes,buttheskinofhisneckturnsadeepershadeofcrimson.
“CanIaskyouaquestion,then?”Isay.
Heregardsmewarily.“Depends.”
“Sitdownfirst,”Icommand,pattingthefloornexttome.
“Iwouldprefernotto—”
“Sit,”Isay,grabbinghiswristandtugginghimdown.
“Thefloor’scold,”heprotests,thoughheremainssitting,hislonglegssprawledoutinfrontofhim,hishandssupportinghisweight.
“Notascoldasyou,”Isay.Myheadswims,anditfeelslikeI’mmovinginslowmotionwhenIshufflearoundtofacehim.“So.Tellme.Whyisitalwaysme?”
Hisbrowscrease.“Whatkindofquestionisthat?”
“Whyisitme?”Thewordscomeoutslurred,swollenonmytongue.Iwavemyhandsaroundwithgrowingfrustration.“Whydoyou?.?.?.?Whydoyouputallyourenergyintomakingmylifedifficult?WhatdidIeverdotoyoutomakeyou?.?.?.?hatemesomuch?It’sbeenhappeningsincethedaywemeteachother.Withdodgeball.Withthespellingquizinyearsix.Withourhistoryproject.Witheverything.Whydoyoualwayssinglemeout?”
“Because,”hesaysquietly,acuriousexpressiononhisface.I’veneverseenhimsoserious.Sosincere.“You’retheonlypersonworthpayingattentionto.”
Andthepaincomescrashingbackthroughmychest,butit’stransformed.Warmattheedges,burninghotwithin.Iclosemyeyes,swallow,unabletospeak.Iwanthimtosayitagain.Iwishhe’dneversaidit.
“Areyousatisfiednow?”Juliusasks.Hesoundsalmostangryaboutit,spiteful,likehe’sbeenforcedtoproveapointagainsthimself.
Myeyesflutteropen,andI’malarmedbyhowcloseheis.Washethatclosebefore?Icanseethedarkblueshadowsunderhiscollarbones,theflecksofgoldinhisirises,thesoftcurveofhislips,thepulsebeatingathisneck.Whatifwekissedagain?Thefoolishnotionfloatstomybrain,andIcan’tshakeitaway.
Butbeforetheideacanexpandintosomethingdangerous,Iheartheunmistakablerumbleofacarengine.Headlightsflashthroughthewindows,brieflybathingthefrontentranceinbrightorangelight,thesilhouetteoftreesoutlinedagainsttheglass.Thenvoicesdriftthroughthefrontyard.Max’svoice,loudnomatterthehour.“.?.?.can’tblamemeforwinning,canyou?You’realwaystellingmetolearnfrommysisterandsethighergoalsformyself.Shouldn’tyoubegladI’msogoodat—”
“Atmahjong?”comesmymom’sshrillreply.“YouthinkIshouldbeproudofyou?Wheredidyouevenlearntoplay,huh?Haveyoubeengamblingwhenyou’resupposedtobeatschool?”
“No!Bro,Iswear—”
“I’mnotyourbro.Nibuxianghuoleshiba—”
“Okay,then,dearestmother,maybeit’sjustnaturaltalent.Maybethisismycalling—Ow,stophittingme—”
Ohmygod.
They’vecomebackearly.
“Crap.”Istanduptoofast,andforasecondtheroomisnothingbutablurofcolor.Myheadpoundsharder.“Crap.”
Juliusjumpstohisfeettoo.“What—”
“Myparents,”Ibabble.“Imean—myparent.Mymom.She’sback.Shedidn’t—Shedoesn’tknowIwasthrowingaparty.She’sliterallygoingtokillmeandthrowmycorpseintoadumpsterwhenshefindsout.”
“Ithinkyou’remisusingthewordliteral—”
Icuthimoff.“Youhavetogetoutofherebeforesheseesyou.”
“I—Okay.”Hestepsleft,thenrightagain.Hesitates.
“Thebackdoor.”Isweepthebottleintothebin—god,Icouldslapmyself,Ishouldneverhaveletmyselfdrink—andpushJuliusoutoftheroomwithbothhands.Thefootstepsoutsidearedrawingcloser.Theautomaticlightsonthefrontporchswitchon.Icanfeelmyheartpoundinginmythroat.Themetaphoricalpanic-spiderisnolongerlockedintheotherroom;it’snowscuttlingupmyleg,andIwanttoscream.
“Here,”IhissatJulius,motioningtowardthedoor.ButthenIseethetopofMax’sspikyhairthroughthebushes.He’scominginthisway.IgrabafistfulofJulius’sshirtandyankhimback.
“Whatthehell?”Juliusdemands.
“Frontdoor,”Iamend,shovinghimintheotherdirection.“Usethefrontdoorinstead.”
NosoonerthanI’vespoken,thelightsonthefrontporchflickonaswell.
Mystomachdrops.We’resurroundedonbothsides.
It’sanambush.
“Okay,think,Sadie,”Iinstructmyselfoutloud,massagingmyhead.“Stopbeingdrunkandthink.Getittogether.Youdon’thaveanytimeleft.”
“Thisisaveryfascinatinglookintoyourthoughtprocess,”Juliusremarks.
“Shush,”Isnap.“I’mthinking—”
Andthenasolutioncomestome.
“Thewindow.”It’stheonlyway.
Hiseyeswidenafraction.“You’rejoking.I’mnotclimbingoutyourwindow,Sadie.It’sundignified.”
“I’lloweyou.”
“Youalreadyoweme.Howdoyouplanonreturningallthesefavors?”
Iignorethatandstartdragginghimtowardthewindowinthelaundryroom.It’swideenoughtofithiswholebody,anditdropsdowntothenarrowsidepathnobodyeveruses.Mostofitisconcealedbyovergrownshrubbery.“Here,”Isay,liftingthewindowforhim.Faintly,throughthedoor,Icanheartherattleofkeys.“Hurry”
Heglaresatmebutcomplies,swinginghislegoverthewhite-paintedframeandlandingsoftly,gracefullyonthewildgrassbelow—
Rightasthefrontdoorcreaksopen.I’mtryingtotiptoemywaydownthehallwhenmymomcallsmyname.
“Sadie?Whatareyoustilldoingup?”
Ispinaround,andtheroomspinstoo.Thealcoholisstillsloshingaroundinmystomach,mybloodstream,renderingeverythingblurryandsurreal.Ihavetosquinthardtofocus.Mymom’sremovinghercoat,settinghercarkeysdownonthecounter;they’reeasilyrecognizablebecausesherefusestothrowoutthebrightribbonsfromchocolateboxesandinsistsinsteadonwrappingthemaroundthekeyring.Thereshouldbefiveribbonsintotal,butwhenIblink,theyduplicateintoamessofsquigglypinkandbluelines.
God,I’msodrunk.
“I’mnotdrunk,”Iannounceloudly.Thisseemslikethenormal,not-guiltythingtosay,butIcantellfromthewayMomstaresatmethatI’veslippedupsomehow.It’sokay,Iattempttocalmmyself,bitingmytonguesohardItastethesharptangofblood.Atleastshehasn’tfoundoutabouttheparty.You’vecleanedupmostoftheevidence.There’sabsolutelynoway—
“Didyou?.?.?.?hostapartywhileweweregone?”Momasks,frowning.BeforeIcanreply,shestridesintothelivingroomandstartsinspectingallthefurniture.Iwanttodisappear.“Thediningtableisaskew.Thebooksontheshelfaren’tinalphabeticalorder.Theleftcabinetdrawerisopen.Andisthat—”ShewipesafingeroversomethingonthewallsominusculethatIcan’tevenseewhatitisuntilsheholdsitrightuptomyface,underthelights.“That’sapieceofglitter,isn’tit?”
She’sbeingveryaccurate.Itis,indeed,asingular,dust-sizedspeckofglitter.
“Wedon’townanythingwithglitterinthishouse,”shesays,switchingtoMandarinnow.ShealwaysspeaksinrapidMandarinwhenshe’sagitated,asifallthewordsintheEnglishlanguagearen’tenoughtocontainherrage.“Glitteris,withoutadoubt,theworstthinghumanityhaseverinvented.”
Forreasonsthatescapeme,Idecidethatthebestresponsetothisis:“Whataboutweaponsofwar?”
“Excuseme?”
“Nothing,”Ibackpedal.I’mhavingtroublestandingupandtalkingatthesametime.Ormaybejuststandingupwithoutsupport.Ormaybebeingahumaningeneral.
“What’sgoingonwithyou?”sheasks,hergazeheavyonme.
Everythingistooheavy:theairaroundme,theclothesonmybody,theskinonmybones,theinvisibleforcepressingagainstmychest.Theeffortofasingle,shakybreath.Icanfeelmypalmssweating,thetruthrisinguplikebile.“I—”
“Didyoumissus?”Maxcomesstrollingintotheroomfromtheothersideofthehouse,grinningwide.He’sholdingupapacketofWangWangsoftgummycandies—thelychee-flavoredonesIlovethemost—whichhewavesaroundbeforemelikeavictoryflagbeforedroppingitintomypalms.“Dude,youshouldhavebeenthere.DaMainvitedabunchofherfriendsoverandIabsolutelythrashedthematmahjong.Theyranoutofmoneyandhadtostartpayingupincandy—youlikethisflavor,right?Anyway,itwashilarious.MomforcedustoleavebeforeIcouldtakeeverything,butIswear,ifgiventhechance—”
“I’mtalkingtoyoursister,”Momsaysirritably.“Gowashup.”
“Wait.Whoa,whoa,whoa.Waitasecond.”Mybrotherstaresatme.“Areyou—drunk?Dude,Ican’tbelievethis.Whatthehellhappened?”
Iopenmymouthtodenyit—
Andbreakdownintotearsinstead.
I’mcompletely,utterlyhorrified.Ineveractthisway.I’monlymeanttoabsorbwhatothersfeel,presentthebestsideofmyself,sitstillandswallowmyownemotions.Butit’slikeI’velostcontrolovermyownbody,likeI’mwatchingmyselffromtheceilingasIstandhereinthemiddleofthelivingroom,cryingandclutchingthegummycandy.I’minconsolable.Hysterical.I’msobbingtenyears’worthoftears,chokingasifthere’ssomethingsickandpoisonousinsideme,somethingpainful,andIneedtoforceitoutofmysystem.Butit’sstuck.It’sfesteredbeneathmyfleshforsolongnowthatit’sapartofme,thedeepachelikeathumbonatenderbruise.
“Holdup.”AlarmflashesoverMax’sface.I’vewitnessedhimhavingamentalbreakdownoveranadaboutalostsquirrelbefore,buthehasn’tseenmecryinyears.“Bro,you’rescaringme—”
“Max,”Momsaysquietly.“Go.”
Hedoesn’tprotestthistime,buthekeepsshootingmeworriedglancesoverhisshoulderashehurriesdownthecorridor.
Thenmymomgentlygrabsmyarm.Sitsmedownonthecouchnexttoher.
“What’swrong?”sheasks.IfMandarinisherlanguageforanger,it’salsoherlanguageforsoftness.It’shervoicecoaxingustosleepwhenwewereyounger,herhummingunderherbreathasshesewedthebuttonsbackintoourjacketssotheyweregoodasnewagain,hertellingusitwastimefordinner,herwhisperinggoodnightassheturnedoffthebiglights,hercallingtoletusknowshewouldbetheresoon,justwait.
“Iregretit,”Imanagetosayonastutteringbreath.IweeplikeIhaven’tinages,notsinceIwasaninfant.
“Regretwhat?”
Everything.
Iregretwritingtheemails,Iregretthrowingtheparty,IregretkissingJuliusinamomentofimpulsivityandgivinghimthepowertohumiliateme.Iregretitsomuchitfeelslikemyliverisbleedingdry.Iregretitsomuchitfeelsmorelikehatred,aknifeturnedinward,nailssqueezingintoflesh.Ihatemyselfforeverythingthat’shappened,becauseeverymistakeismyowntobear.Anditfeelslikefeartoo.Likepure,animalterror,thestomach-curdlingmomentinthehorrorfilmwhenyourealizeyoumadethewrongmove,youunlockedthedoorstoosoon,andthemaskedmanwiththechainsawisstandingrightbehindyou.
There’snothingIwantmorethanfortimetobeaphysicalthing,somethingIcansplitintotwowithmyownhands,soIcanturnitaround,shatterit,undoalltheconsequences.
“Isthisabouttheparty?”Momasks.“BecauseI’mnotmad.Iwishyouhadtoldme,andIdon’tcondonethealcohol,butI’mactuallyquitehappy.It’sabouttimeyoudidthingslikeanormalteenager.”
Thisissoshockingmytearsfreezeinmyeyes.“You’re—not?”
Shesmilesatmysurprise.Smiles.IwonderifI’vebeentransportedintoanalternateuniverse.Inthecorrectversion,shewouldbelecturingmeorchasingmearoundthehousewithherplasticslippers.ShewouldbemadthatIkeepruiningeverything,andshewouldhaveeveryrighttobe.Idon’tdeservetobeforgivensoeasily.“Ofcourse.WhenIwasateenager,Ithrewpartieseveryfewweeks.Theywereverypopular.”
“I—What?”Adullthrobbingsensationhasstartedbehindmyeyes,butIcan’ttellifit’sfromtheliquororthecryingorthestrainoffittingthisbizarreinformationintomybrain.“Sincewhen?Ithoughtyousaid?.?.?.?Ithoughtyousaidyouherdedthegoatsaroundthemountainswhenyouwereateenager.”
“Justbecausewehadgoatsdoesn’tmeanwedidn’thaveparties.”
Iblink.Theroomisspinningagain,fasterthanbefore.“But?.?.?.?I’mnotallowedto.Ishouldn’tbehavingfunandthrowingpartiesand—anddoingthewrongthings.I’mnotsupposedtocauseanytrouble.”
“Whotoldyouthat?”sheasks.“Whosaidyouweren’tallowed?”
Nobody,Irealize.Butnobodyeverhadtotellme.Itwasenoughformetocowerbehindthewallasmyparentsfought,enoughtowatchmyfatherleave,tofeelthedoorstremblinginhiswake.Itwouldn’thavehappenedifitweren’tforme.That’sthetruthIalwayscrawlbackto,thebonethatsetwronginmybodyallthoseyearsago.Mydadhadbeenatwork,Maxhadbeenoutplayingbasketballwithhisfriends,andmymomneededtogobuygroceries,soshe’daskedmetosteamtheporkbunsfordinner.I’dbeensoeagertoprovethatIwasreliable,butthenI’dgottendistractedbytheshowIwaswatching.IonlyrememberedtheboilingpotagainwhenIsmelledthesmoke.Thesharp,bitterodorofsomethingburning.
Ihadslammedmylaptopdownandsprintedintothekitchentocheck,butitwastoolate:Thefirehadburnedaholestraightthroughthebottom,themetalscorchedsoseverelyitwascoalblack.Ithadbeenmymom’sfavoritepot,theoneshehadboughtwithhersavingsandshippedallthewayfromastoreinShanghai.Ididn’ttrytohideitwhenshewalkedinanhourlater.Ijuststoodthereguiltily,myheadbowed,thedamageonopendisplaybehindme.
“Howcanyoubesoirresponsible?”she’ddemanded,rubbingherfacelikeshehopedtoscrubawayherexhaustion.“IonlyaskedyoutodothisonethingwhileIwasgone.You’renotababyanymore,Sadie;Iexpectmorefromyou.”
I’dapologized,overandoverandover.“Iknow.I’msorry.I’mreallysorry,Mom.Pleasedon’tbeangrywithme.I’msosorry.”
Butthenmyfatherhadcomehome,andhe’dbeenangrytoo—notatme,butatmymom.“She’sstillachild,”he’dinsisted,dumpinghisbriefcaseonthecouch.“Whydoyoualwaysdothis?Whydoyoualwaysmakeabigdealoutofnothing?It’sjustapot.”
Mymomhadwhirledonhimwithalarmingspeed,hereyesflashing.“Yousaythatbecauseyounevercook.Yougotoworkandcomebackandexpectdinnertobeallreadyandwaitingonthetableforyou.You’renobetterthanachildyourself.”
“It’smyfault,”I’dputin.MyparentssorarelyarguedthatIdidn’tknowwhattodo,onlythatIhateditandneededtomakeitstop.“I’llfixit,Ipromise.I-I’llfindanewpot,thesamebrandastheoldone.Iwon’tdoitagain—”
Buttheywerenolongerevenlookingatme.
“Inevercookbecauseyoudon’tletme,”myfatherwassaying.“Youlosepatiencewithinminutes;lookatyou,you’relosingpatiencenow—”
“Don’tbesuchahundan,”Momhadsnapped,andthat’showIknewshewasreallyfurious:ShewasswearinginMandarin.
Andjustlikethat,myfatherhadexploded.He’dslammedhishanddownonthetablesohardIexpectedhimtobreaksomething,hisfeaturestwistedwithrage.Themeltedpotlayforgottenonthestove.Theyglaredateachotherfromoppositeendsoftheroom,andthenitwaslikesomekindofinvisiblebarrierhadbroken,andtheywereflingingaccusationsateachother,complaints,cursewords.
“Doyouenjoymakingotherpeoplemiserable?”mydadhadaccused,andIcouldn’thelpitanymore.Iwascaughtbetweentwosidesofawar,andbypureprotectiveinstinct,Isteppedoutinfrontofmymom.Chosemyallianceswithoutthinking.
“Don’ttalktomymomlikethat,”I’dsaid.Quietly,atfirst,thenlouder.“You’reupsettingher.Just—justgoaway.”Ihadn’tmeantit.Iwasonlysickandscaredoftheirfighting.Ionlywantedtheargumenttostop.
Hurthadflickeredoverhisface,andIgotthesenseI’dcommittedsometerribleactofbetrayal,beforehisthickbrowsdrewtogether,hishandsballedintofists.“Youallwantmetogo?Fine,”hespat.“Iwill.”
ThenhewasleavingbecauseI’dallbutaskedhimto,andmymomwasrightthere,watchinghim,witnessingourlivescollapseinonthemselves.“Don’tcomeback,”sheyelled,andheneverdid.
Oncethedusthadsettled,shetoldmeithadnothingtodowithme.Ithadbeenherchoice.Theyweregrownadults;theymadedecisionsforthemselves.Alltheexpected,hollowexcuses.ButIdidn’tbelieveher.Couldn’t.EverytimeIplayedthesceneback,Isawmyselfpoisedatboththestartingandendpoint.Ihadbeenthetrigger,andallthatcameafterhadhappenedforwhat?BecauseIhadn’tlistenedtoher.BecauseIhadn’tbeenwell-behaved.BecauseI’dbeenimpulsive.
Becausesomemistakeswereirreversible,likeglitterinthecarpet,awinestainonafavoritedress.
“What’sreallygoingon,Sadie?”mymomasks,peeringatmyface.
Ican’tbringmyselftotellherabouttheemails,soIsettlefortheclosestanswerIcanfind.“Everyonehatesme,”Iwhisper.“Ididsomethingtomakethemallhateme,andIthought?.?.?.?IthoughtIcouldchangetheirminds.”
Sheabsorbsthisforamoment.“Well,Idoubtthat’strue.Andevenifitis,it’snottheendoftheworld.”
Iletoutashakylaugh.Adultsarealwayssayingthat.OtherthanIfsomeoneaskedyoutojumpoffacliff,wouldyoudoit?(whichsimplydoesn’tstrikemeasarealisticscenario;whowouldbenefitfrommakingsomebodyelsehurlthemselvesoffacliff?)andYou’llunderstandwhenyouhavechildrenofyourown(eventhoughIdon’tplanoneverhavingchildren),thisseemstobetheirfavoriteline.It’snottheendoftheworld.Andmaybethere’ssometinygrainoftruthinit.MaybeI’llgrowupandchangemymindadecadelater.Exceptfornow,thisismywholeworld.ThepeopleIsitnexttoinclass,thefacesIhavetoseeatschooleverysingleday,theteacherswhodeterminethegradesthatgetsenttotheuniversitythatdeterminesthetrajectoryoftherestofmylife.
“Whydon’tyoujustgiveitsometime?”shesuggests.“Themoreyouforcesomething,thelessitworks.Haven’tyouheardthesaying?Amelonpickedtoosoonisseldomsweet.”
Istare.“Youmean?.?.?.?donothing?”It’sanabsurdnotion.It’stheroutepeoplewhoturntheiressaysintwodayslatewouldchoose.ButallofasuddenI’mawareofhowexhaustedIam.
“Yes,donothing,”shesaysfirmly.“Liveyourlifeandseewhathappens.Ofcourse,Idon’tmeanaroundthehouse,”sheadds.“Iexpectyoutocleanupalltheroomsandreturneverythingtoitsoriginalplace.”
“I—Okay.”Istarttostandupbutsheyanksmebackdownontothecouch.
“Tomorrow,”shesays.“Tonight,allyouneedtodoisdrinkthechickensoupI’mabouttomakeyouandgotobed,okay?”
“Okay,”Irepeatagain,stunned.Imuststillbeverydrunk,becauseIcan’thelpthenextwordsthattumbleoutofmymouth:“I’mreallysorry.”
Sheshakesherhead.“Youdon’thavetoapologizefortheparty—”
“Notabouttheparty,”Isay.“About—aboutmyfather.”
Silence.
It’stheonetopicinthehouseweneverbringup.It’slikearashyou’retoldnottoscratch,evenwhenitpainsyou,forfearofmakingitworse.Ialreadyregretit,alreadywanttotakethewordsback,butmymom’sgazeiscalm.
“Sadie.It’snotyourfault.”
“But—”
“Ithappened,”shesays,“anditwasinevitable,andnowwehavetherestofourlivestolive.”
“Inevitable?How?Youneverfought.Youwerebothsohappyupuntilthatnight,”Iwhisper.
“Oh,no,weweren’thappy.Weweren’tinlovewitheachother.Weweresimplypolite,”shesays,lookingovermyshouldernow,asifshecanseeherpastprojectedontothebarewalls.“Ialmostwishthatwehadfoughtmore,thatwe’dcaredenoughtochallengeeachotherandbickeroverthelittlethings.Betterthatthanjustswallowingourresentmentandstayingquietuntilwecouldn’ttakeitanymore.”
Ifeellikesomebodyhasknockedmeupsidedown.LikeImightthrowupatanymoment.“That’snotpossible,”Itellher.“Ishouldhavesensedit.Iwouldhaveknown—”
“Youweresoyoung,”shesays.“You’restillsoyoung.Andwedidn’twantyoutoknow.”Shesqueezesmywristlightly.
“Butthen?.?.?.?you’renothappynow,”Isay,scanningherface,notingthefamiliarsignsoffatigueinthefaintpurplearoundhereyes,thedownwardturnofherlips.“It’sbecausehe’sgone,isn’tit?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Ifthere’sanyreasonwhyI’dbeunhappy,it’sbecauseyou’renothappy.”
Iam.I’mfine,Itrytosay,excepttheliewon’tevenmakeitswaypastmylips.
“Allyoudoisworkandstudyandliveforotherpeople,”shegoeson,gesturingtothestacksoftextbooksonthefloor,theshinyawardsandsportstrophiesonthebookshelf.“Yes,youhelpoutalot,andI’mverygratefulforit;thebakerywouldn’tberunningwithoutyou.ButI’dmuchratherseeyouenjoyingyourteenyearswhileyoucan.Iworrythatyou’regoingtolookbackwhenyou’retwentyorfortyandallyou’llrememberisyourdeskandthedishes.Really,itwouldeasemyguiltifyoudid.”Hersmileissad.“Ineverwantedyoutohavetogrowupthisfast.”
Myheadbuzzes.Ican’tbelieveit.It’slikespendingyearsofyourlifetrainingforagameonlytorealizeyouunderstoodtherulesallwrong.
“I’mgoingtomakethatsoupnow.”Momstandsup.“Stayhere.”
Andthensheheadsintothekitchen,leavingmetoreassembleallthepiecesofmylifeIwasoncesocertainof.EveryonehatestheAthleticsCarnival.
Everyone.Thenonathletickidshateitbecauseit’sonewholedayspentsweatingintheopenandstumblingafteryourclassmates.Theathletickidshateitbecausethere’sanincredibleamountofpressuretoperform,andsomeonealwaysendsupwithasprainedankleortornligament.
ThoughIfallintothelattercategory,Idon’tusuallymindtheeventasmuchastheothers.Butafterspendingtheweekendhungoverandmiserable,it’sdifficulttodrumupanyenthusiasm.
“Ihaveasolution,”Abigailsaysaswewalkintotherentedstadium,ourduffelbagsbumpingagainstourknees.Thesunisunreasonablybrighttoday,andthetemperaturerisesanywherethelighttouches,sothatsoonmoststudentsareshruggingoutoftheirthicksweatersandtracksuits.Betterthis,Iguess,thantheyeartheschoolinsistedweruninaliteralthunderstorm.Morethanonepersonsprainedtheiranklethattime.“Whatifyouranmeovergentlywithacar?They’dhavetocancelthecarnival,right?I’mwillingtotakeonefortheteam.”
Asmallsnortescapesmylips.Thestadiumissovastthatittakesustenminutesjusttoreachthestandsandplopourwaterbottlesdownontheplasticseats.Everyyear,wecomehere,andeveryyear,Istillfindmyselfintimidatedbythesheersizeoftherunningtrack.
“Ifyouwanttotakeonefortheteam,youcouldjointherelay,”ItellAbigailwhileIslathermultiplelayersofsunscreenallovermybody.Thoseyear-roundUVradiationinfographicstheyshoveddownourthroatsinprimaryschoolhavereallystuckwithme.“Westillhaveanopeningleft.”
Shemakesaface.“Listen,webothknowI’mmultitalented,butrunningisoneoftheonlythingsI’mnotgreatat.”
“Doesn’tmatter.I’llrunfastenoughtomakeupforit.”
“Couldwepleaseatleastconsidertheideaofhittingmewithacar?”shewhines.
“Abigail.”
“Fine.”Shethrowsherhandsup.“OnlybecauseIstillfeelguiltyaboutleavingthepartyearly.”
Mygutsquirmsatthereminder,butIforcemyselftosmile.“Itoldyou,it’sfine.Itwentwell.”
“That’snotwhateveryoneelseissaying.”
Imakeaneffortnottoreact.Idon’tcare.Isqueezemoresunscreenintomypalmsandsmearitthickovermyneck,thestrong,artificialsmellburningmynostrils.Idon’twanttoknow.It’sbetterifIdon’tknow.“What?.?.?.?Whatiseveryoneelsesaying?”
Shehesitates.“Thatyoukindof,like,flippedout.”
They’renotwrong,butitfeelslikeaslapinthefaceanyway.Ahundredprotestsandexplanationsandapologiesmaketheirwaytomylips.Iswallowthemalldown.Aftermylittlebreakdown,I’dpromisedmyselfIwouldlistentomymom.Iwouldgiveittime.Resistpickinganyunripewatermelons,orwhateverthemetaphorismeanttobe.
“Also,”shesays,frowning,“Iheardthatsomething?.?.?.?happenedwithJulius?”
Mystomachcontracts.“Hangon.Firsttellmewhathappenedwithyou,”Isay,wipingtheexcesssunscreenonmyarms.I’mmostlychangingthesubjecttobuymyselftime,tofigureouthowI’msupposedtotellherIkissedtheboyI’vebeenrantingaboutforthepastdecade.“Didyoumanagetohelpyoursister?”
Ashadowcrossesherface.“Idid.Well,kindof.Ihelpedherwiththecar,but?.?.?.”Shechewsherlowerlip,thenheavesasigh.“ThereasonsheandLiamwerefightingwasbecauseshefoundouthe’sbeencheatingonher.Notjustwithoneperson,butmultiplepeople.”
Iwince,sympatheticbutunsurprised.
“Ican’tbelieveIdidn’tknow,”shesays,kickingattheartificialgrass.“Ievenencouragedhertostaywithhimthelasttimetheyfought.Ishouldhavebeenabletosensesomethingwasoff.”
ThisisthethingaboutAbigail:Shemightnothavethebestgradesorthemostreliablecareerplans,butIknowshepridesherselfonhavinggoodinstinct,whetherit’saboutshoesorboysoriftheteacherswillactuallybecollectingthehomeworkonMonday.Shemakesallthecalls,givesouttheadvice.She’salwaysright—andthat’sadirectquotefromoneofthestickynotesonherlunchbox.
“Ijust—IthoughtIwasdoingwhatwasbestforher,”shecontinuesinasmallvoice.
AndIrealizethatIabsolutelycan’ttellherwhathappenedbetweenmeandJulius.Thepartyhadbeenherideatoo.ThelastthingsheneedstohearrightnowishowmuchIregrettedthewholenight,howit’smademyweirdrelationshipwithJuliusathousandtimesmorecomplicated.“Youcouldn’thaveknown,”Ireassureher.“It’sanunfortunatefeatureofdouchebagsthatthey’regoodathidingtheirdouchebagtendencies.Andbytheway,youweretotallyrightabouttheparty.”
“Really?”
Thefactthatshe’sevenaskingisproofshe’sjustsufferedaterribleblowtoherself-esteem.“Yeah,seriously.Like,yes,Ikindoflostitattheendbecausethingsgotalittleoutofcontrol,butbeforethat,Ihadsomuchfun.Ihaven’tfeltthatenthusiasticaboutlifesinceIfinishedcolor-codingallmyhistorynotes.”It’samiracleIdon’tchokeonthewords.Beforeshecandetectmylie,Ispinaround.“Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,Ihavetogogetabunchofpeopletosignupforracestheywouldratherdiethanrun.”
It’salegitimatereason.Ms.Hedgecorneredmeoutsidethebusbeforeweleftthismorningandforcedthetaskonme.JuliusandIeachhavetwentyspotstofill,whichiswhyIspendthenexthalfhourrunningaroundthestadium—notinraces,butinsearchofpotentialparticipants.Bytheend,tenspotsarestillleftempty.Nothingworks,evenwhenIuseeverystrategyIcanthinkof:
Pleading.
“It’sreallyimportant,”Ibegoneofthesportierboysinouryear.He’slounginginthefrontrowofthestands,shamelesslyscrollingthroughsomeprettygirl’saccountonhisphone.Hedoesn’tglanceupatme.“Please.Everyoneshouldsignupforatleastonerace—”
“Isitcompulsorythough?”heasks.
“I?.?.?.?It’sexpected—”
“WilltheprincipalexpelmeifIdon’trunthisrace?”
“No,but—”
“Yeah,I’mgood,thanks.”Iwatchhimsendthegirl’srecentposttoafriend,alongsideadisturbingnumberofheart-eyeemojis.“Goodluckfindingsomeoneelse.”
“Goodluckgettingherattentionwithyourcurrentprofilepicture,”Ican’thelpmuttering.Iwouldn’tundernormalcircumstances,butaftertheparty,IfigureIcan’tbeanylesspopularthanIalreadyam.
Nowhejerkshisheadup.Looksalarmed.“What?Hey,wait,what’swrongwithmycurrent—”
ButI’malreadymovingontomynexttargetwithanotherstrategy.
Negotiating.
“Justonerace,”ItellGeorginawhenIfindherbythewaterfountains.“Icanrunthefifteenhundredmetersforyouifyourunthefivehundredmeters.”
Sheshootsmeanapologeticsmile.“Sorry,Sadie.Itwistedmyankleonthebusjustnow.It’sprobablybestthatIdon’t.”
“Onthe—onthebus?”Irepeat,blinking.“Howdidyou?.?.?.?Howisthateven?.?.?.”
“IthinkIwassittingdown,”shesays.
“And?”
“AndthenIstoodup,”shesayssomberly.
“Youtwistedyourankle,”Isay,incaseI’mmisunderstanding.“Fromtheveryactofstanding.”
“Yep.Thatdidit,”sheagrees,andturnsaway.Whichleadsmetomylastresort—
Guilttripping.
“Weneedyou,”Isay,corneringRayoutsidethebathrooms.“Ifyoudon’trunatleastoneoftheraces,thenGeorginaWilkinswillhaveto,andshe’stwistedherankle.You’renotgoingtolethergoinsteadofyou,areyou?”
Raydrieshishandsonhisshirtandraiseshisbrows.“Twistedherankle?How?”
“Youdon’tneedtoknow,”Isayhastily.“Canyourun?Orwillyousitonthesidelines,intheshade,andwatchallyourclassmatesstruggleoutthereonthetrack,sweatingandgaspingforbreath?”
“Sitintheshade,”hesayswithouthesitation.“Ihaveafearofrunning,yousee.”
Ialmostthrowupblood.“You’renotserious.”
“It’saveryrealfear.Googleit.”
“I’msorry,buthowdoesthatevenwork?”
“Assoonasmyfeetstartmovingveryfast,”hesays,“myheartjuststartsbeatingwildly,andmyvisiongoesallblurry.It’slikebeingonarollercoaster.Orinaracecar.Thespeedatwhichtheworldrushespastmeisterrifying.”
“Howpoetic,”Iremarkundermybreath.
“You’rewelcome,bytheway,”headds.
Istare.“Forwhat?”
“Thedareatyourparty.”Hegrins.“NeverimaginedyouandJuliuswouldbesointoit.”
“Iwasn’t—”Myvoicecomesouttenoctavestoohigh,andIforcefullyloweritbackdownasRay’sgrinwidens.“Iwasnot.Andhemostdefinitelywasn’teither.”Justthememorymakesmyfaceburnlikeit’sbeingpressedtoastove.Iwouldratherdiethankissyouagain.“Forgetit,”Idecide,shakingmyheadfreeofallunwelcomethoughts.“I’lljust—I’llruntheracesbymyself.”
“Well,youbettergosoon,”hesays,steppingrightintotheshade.“Ithinktherelay’sstartingnow.”
???
I’mcursingtheworldwhenItakemyplacebesideJulius.
Helooksunreasonablyrelaxed.Prepared.Thesundancesoverhishairashestretcheshislimbsoutandsurveystherunningtrack.Ofcourse,ifIhadhisteam,Iwouldprobablyberelaxedtoo.He’sgotRosie,Jonathan,andanationalathleteashisfirstthreerunnersfortherelay.They’reallknownforbeingfast.IhaveAbigail,oneofRosie’sfriends,andtheguywhocameindeadlastintheone-hundred-metersprintlastyearbecausehegottiredhalfway.
“Howdidyougowiththesign-ups?”heasks,glancingoveratme.
“Fine,”Isaybriskly,flexingmyrightleg,thenmyleft.Theracewillbestartingintwominutes.
“Well,I’vefilledupallthepositionsformyraces,”hesays.“Itwashardlyanytroublegettingpeopletoenter.”
“Hownicethatitworkedoutforyou.”
Hepretendstomissmysarcasm.“Aren’tyougoingtowishmegoodluck?”heasks.“Sincewe’reracingagainsteachotherandall.”
Ibounceslightlyontheballsofmyfeettowarmup,waitingformynervestomorphintoadrenaline.Sinceit’sthefirstraceoftheday,therelayisalwaystheoneeverybodypaysthemostattentionto.Ineedtofocus.Ineedtowinthis.Ineedtobeathim.“Areyougoingtowishmegoodluck?”
Helaughs.Literally,laughsinmyface.“Now,whywouldIdothat?”
Inthedistance,theteacherliftsthestartingpistol.Allthemusclesinmybodytense.
“Inthatcase,”Isay,staringstraightahead,“Ihopeyoubreakyourleg.”
“You’reverypricklytoday,”hecomments,unfazed.“Isitbecauseyoucouldn’tfindanyonewillingtorun?Orisitbecauseofyourmassivehangover?”
Istiffen,myfocusbreaking,andwhirlaroundtofacehim.Luckilyalltheotherrunnersarealreadyinposition,sothere’snoonearoundtooverhear.
“Don’ttellmeyou’veforgottenhowdrunkyouwere,”hesays,hisgazesharper,assessing.
“I—Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Really?”Hecockshishead.“Nothing?”
“No.”I’mlying,sortof.ThedetailsfromSaturdayarefuzzy,butIrememberthefeelinggrowinginsidemewhenitwasjustthetwoofus.Liketherewasaburningtorchinmychest,heatbuzzingthroughmyveins,morepotentthantheliquoritself.Irememberthewanting,thedangerousknifepointofdesire,theneedtodosomethingfoolishandrecklesswithhim.NowthatI’mcompletelysober,it’seasytodismissitallaspure,physicalattraction.Itmakesscientificsense.Thealcoholwouldhavehelpedmeignorethemanydefectsofhispersonality,untilallthatwasleftwashisgeometricallypleasingfeatures,hiseyesandhislipsandhishands.Andfromanevolutionarystandpoint,isn’titnormaltowantsomeonepretty,whohappenstobeyourage,andwhoalsojusthappenstobeinyourhouse?Isn’titcodedinourbiology?
“Thenwhyareyoublushing?”Juliusasks.
Itwistmyheadaway.“Stopit.Iknowwhatyou’redoing.”
“WhatamIdoing?”
Thepistolgoesoffwithaloudbang,andcheersrisefromthestands.
It’sstarting.
“Distractingme,”Ireplythroughmyteeth,willingmyselftofocusontherace.OnAbigail.Afewsecondsinandshe’salreadyfallingbehindRosie.
“Youwouldn’tthinkthatifitwasn’tworking,”Juliussays,andIcanhearthepoisonoussmileinhisvoice.“Butdoyoureallynotrecallanydetails?”
Thesecondrunnerontheirteamhaspickedupthebaton.JonathanissofastIswearIcanseethewindathisheels.Abigail,meanwhile,ispantinghard,holdingoutthebatonwithoneshakingarm—andthenextrunnerfumblesit.
Amixtureofscreamsandfrustratedcriessoundthroughthestadium.
It’sokay,Ireassuremyself.Repeatitlikeachantinsidemyhead.It’sokay.It’sfine.I’mthelastrunnerforareason.Icanmakeupforallthelosttime.
“Youdon’trememberwhatyouaskedmetodo?”Juliuspresses.
Ican’thelpit.Iswiveltowardhimagain,myheartthudding,eventhoughI’mawareI’mrisingtothebait.“What?”
Butnowhechoosestoshutup.Theirteamhascompletedtheirsecondexchange,andIcanonlywatch,chokingonmyownfrustration,asJuliussmoothlyacceptsthebatonandtakesoff.
“Comeon,”Ihiss,tappingmyfeet.Ourrunnerisstillfivefeetaway.
Fourfeet.
Juliusisracingfarahead,onlythebackofhisheadvisiblefromwhereIstand
Threefeet.
Itensemymuscles,stretchmyhandout.
Twofeet.
“Hurry,”Iurgeundermybreath,eventhoughIwanttoscreamit.Juliuscan’twin.Hecan’t.Iwon’tgivehimthatsatisfaction.
Onefoot—
Myfingerscloseoverthebaton,andI’mrunning.
Ittakesamomentformetofindmyrhythm,butonceIdo,allthebuilt?upadrenalinefloodsthroughmylimbs.IrunfasterthanIeverhaveinmylife,myeyespinnedononlyoneperson:Julius.Mytarget,mygoal.Thisiswhatwedo,whatwehavealwaysdone.Wechaseeachotherandcircleeachotherandcatchuptoeachother.
Ihavetocatchuptohimnow.
Iforcemyfeetonward,relishingthehardpushofthegroundbeneathme,thebloodburninginsideme,myhairflyingbackinthewind.Colorsblurpastmyvision.Noiserushesdowntomeinwaves.I’mrunningsofastIfeelweightless.IfeellikeI’mfalling,mybodymovingaheadofme.There’snogravity,nofriction,nothingexceptthefranticbeatofmyheartandthepersoninmyvision.I’monlyafewstepsbehindhimnow,andIcansensehisawarenessofmefromthewayhespeedsup.He’sbreathinghard,hisforeheadcoveredinasheenofsweat.Hiseyesdarttome.
Thedistancebetweenuswidens,thennarrows,likeagameoftug?of?war.
Amuscleinmysidestartstocramp,butIignorethepain.Lengthenmystrides.Cutmyhandsthroughtheair.It’snotonlyaphysicalcompetitionbutamentalone,atestofwillpower,ofwhowantstowinmorebadly.AndI’msoclose.We’reneckandneckbythispoint,andtheendisjustaheadofus.
Ineedtokeepgoing.
Keeprunning.
Hepullsaheadagainbyaninchandmyvisionflashesred.
Withonefinalburstofpure,unrestrainedenergy,Ileapforward,theairwhippingmyfaceasIbreakthefinishline—asplitsecondbeforehedoes.
I’mbeaming,laughingbetweengreatgulpsofair.I’vewon.Victoryisalwaysdelicious,butittastesevenbetterwhenit’sJuliusI’mbeating.Webothslowdown.Thecrowdapplaudswildlyinthebackground,theclapsindistinguishablefromthesoundofmyheartbeatinmyears.Sevenpointstome,Igloatinsidemyhead,thoughIrealizeIcan’trememberwhatourscoreswerebefore.Ihaven’tbeenproperlykeepingcount.
Mostrunnersdoubleoverassoonastheraceends,orcollapsedramaticallyontheground,thewayAbigailisdoingnow.ButofcourseJuliusistoodignifiedforthat.Hemerelystands,wipesthesweatfromhisbrow,andturnstome,hislipspursed.
“Aren’tyougoingtocongratulateme?”Iask,mimickinghissmugtonefrombefore.
Herollshiseyes.“Shameless.”
“Imusthavelearneditfromyou,”Itellhim,mygrinwidening.
Hepausesthen.Hisirritationmeltsaway,replacedbrieflybyaconfused,dazedsortoflook,likehe’sjustbeenpresentedwithsomethingunexpected.Hestareslongenoughformetofeelself-conscious.
“What?”Itrytosoundcasual.“Areyoutoostunnedbyyourowndefeat?”
Ascowlquicklyreappearsonhisface.“Thatwasonlyawarm?upforme.”
“We’llseeifthat’strueinthenextrace,”ItellhimbeforeIwalkawaytofetchmymedal.Icanfeelhimglaringafterme.
???
RegrettablyIdon’thavetimetosavorhisdefeat.Idon’tevenhavetimetositdownorgrabadrinkofwater.Therearetoomanyracestorun,toomanypeopledemandingmyattention.Imanagetowinthenextrace,butJuliuswinsthesprintafterthat,aswellasthelongjump,whichIbitterlyattributetotheunfairadvantagehehasinheight.
Thesunriseshigherinthesky,throwingoffblindingbeamsoflight.
IstarttolosecountofhowfarI’verun,howfarIstillhavelefttogo.Ijustpushmybodyharder—andit’sworking.I’minvincible.I’mdoingsowellIevenmanagetocomefirstintheeighthundredmeters.Anothermedalcollected,anotherticknexttomyname,anothernumberaddedtomywinningstreak.
ButasIstaggerofftothesidelines,asuddenwaveofexhaustioncrashesoverme,and—
Ican’tbreathe.
Therealizationsendsmeintoapanic.Itrytosuckinmoreair,butit’slikethere’saninvisiblehandwrappedaroundmythroat,squeezingtighterandtighter.Theoxygengetsstuckhalfwaydown,andmylungsareempty.Idoubleover,trembling,clutchingatthestitchinmyside.Thesunistoobright.Allmysensesareoff-balance,everythingtiltingawayatanodddegree.Myvisionnarrowstoawhitepinprick.
I’mstillstrugglingtobreathe.
Iblinkhard,andwhentheworldcomesrushingbacktomeagain,onlyonefacesharpensintofocus.Blackhair,paleskin,sharplines.Astrangelookinhiseyes.
Julius.
He’sstaringatme,sayingsomething,butthesoundisdistorted.AtfirstIcanonlyhearthebloodthuddinginmyears,thethunderousbeatofmyheart.It’ssolouditscaresme,andIhaveaterrifyingvisionofmyheartexplodinginsidemychest.Iswallowdownanotherfutilemouthfulofair.Itgoesnowhere.
“.?.?.Sadie.Youneedtositdown.”
Somehowit’shisvoicethatcutsthrougheverythingelse,theblurofnoiseandcolorsinthebackground,theobliviouscheersofthecrowd.Clearasthesky,familiarasmyownheartbeat,alinetoclingontooutatsea.
Imumblearesponse,I’mfine,it’sokay,justalittletired,butI’mnotsureifhecanevenhearme.Ifmylipsevenmoveenoughtoformrealwords.
Acreaseknitsitselfbetweenhisbrows.“Sadie—”
Itakeanotherstepforwardandmykneesturntowater.Istumble.
Thensuddenly,withoutwarning,hisarmsarearoundme.IfIweren’tsodizzy,Iwouldjerkaway.Buttomyownhumiliation,Ileanintohim.It’snice.It’shorribly,disgustinglywonderful,tofeelthewarmthofhisbody,thehardlinesofhischest.Icouldsinkintothismomentforever,couldlethimholdmeand—
No.
Thelackofoxygenmustbesuffocatingmybraincells.
“Here.”Heguidesmeontooneofthebenchesintheshade,andtheimmediatereprievefromthesunisblissfullysweet.Theairherefeelscooler,gentler.IdrinkitinlikeI’mdrowning,untilmyheadislight.
“Breatheinslowly.”Hekneelsdowninfrontofme,hishandsaroundmywrists.“Count:one,two,three?.?.?.”
Ifollowhisguidance,countingtofive,holdingthenreleasing,thenbreathinginagain.Aftertencounts,thewhitespotinmyvisionbeginstofade.Anothertencountsandthemetalbandaroundmychestloosens.
“Areyoufeelingbetter?”Juliusasks.
Myvoiceisadrycroak.“Y?yes.”
Inaflashhedropshishands,stepsback,andIfeelapinchofsomethinglikedisappointment.Likeloss.Hisfeaturesaretightwhenhehissesouthisnextwords.“What’syourproblem?”
“What’smyproblem?”Mymindislaggingbehind,workingathalfitsusualspeed.Icanonlyrepeatthewordsfoolishly.Wonderatwhyhelooksthewayhedoes,themuscleinhisjawtensed,hisgazecoldandsharpandfurious.
“Areyoutryingtokillyourself?”hedemands.Hiseyescutthroughmeashespeaks,splittingmeopenfromheadtotoe.“Youlooklikeyou’reabouttofaint,Sadie.It’snotaveryprettyimage.”
MylungsarefunctioningwellenoughnowthatImanagetopantoutareply.“Whatareyougettingsoworkedupfor?I’mtheonegaspingforairoverhere.”
Hemakesasmall,angrysoundwiththebackofhisthroat,likeascoffandasighatthesametime.“Youdon’tgetit,doyou?”
“Getwhat?Whatareyouonabout?”
Buthedoesn’tanswerthequestion.He’stalkingfasterandfaster,thewordsspillingfromhismouth.“It’slaughable,really.You’realwaysinsistentoncomingfirstineverything,butwhenitcomesdowntoit,you’rereadytoputyourselflastjusttopleaseotherpeople—”
“Theothersneedmeto,”Iprotest,confusedwhywe’reevenhavingthisconversation.“Theydidn’twanttoraceso—”
“Screwtheothers,”hesaysfiercely.Theheatinhisvoiceshocksme.Burnsmetothecore.“Idon’tcareaboutthem.Ionlycareabout—”Hecutshimselfoff.Avertshisgaze,staresoutatthevividblueskystretchingoverthestadium.Thestudentsmillingaroundthewaterfountain,tearingopenpacketsofdriednutsandchocolatebars.Participantswarmingupbythefences,bendingandstraighteningtheirlegsoutoverthegrass.
Myheadisspinning,butIcannolongertellifit’sfromthelackofoxygenorhim.
“Whyareyoumadatme?”Iaskhimoutright.“Youshouldbehappy.There’snowayI’llwinanyofourremainingraces.Yougettobeatme.It’swhatyou’vealwayswanted.”
Hehuffsoutalaugh.Gazesbackoveratme,hiseyesafathomlessblack,thekindofdarknessyoucouldwadethroughforeverandneverreachtheend.“Goodgod,you’reinfuriating.”
“Andyou’remakingnosense,”Isnap.
“Whycan’tyoujust—”
Theshrillshriekofthewhistledrownsouttherestofhissentence.Thenextracewillbestartingsoon:theonethousandmeters.
Istandup—ortryto.Butmylegsfeellikethey’vebeeninfusedwithlead,andthewholeworldwobbleswhenIrise,therunningtrackslidingsideways.Whitestarssparkinmyvisionagain.Frustrated,Ifallbackontothecoldbench.
“Mybodywon’tlistentome,”Imutter,catchingmybreath.
“Yes,bodiestendtodothattoprotectthemselvesfromself-destruction.”Julius’stoneisscathing.“Ibelieveit’soneofourkeyevolutionaryfeatures.”
Idon’thavetheenergytoarguewithhim.“Istillhavetorace?.?.?.”
“Theonethousandmeters,right?”
Iblinkathim.
“I’llrunitforyou.”
“Wait—what?”Imassagemythrobbingtemples,willingmyselftoconcentrate.Tomakesenseofthis.
“I’llbefasteranyway,”hesayswithhisusualdisdain,likeI’mslowinghimdownrightnow.Butthesmugnessdoesn’tspreadtohiseyes.He’swatchingme,tentative,intenselyfocused.
“No.Julius,youdon’thaveto—”
“I’llgiveyouthemedalasapresent,”hesays,alreadyturningaround.“Justwait.”
Ican’tdoanythingexceptstareashegoestotheteacher,sayssomething,pointsoveratme.Myskinflushes.Theteachernodsquickly,clapshimontheshoulder,andthenhe’sjoiningtheotherracersatthestartingline.Formostofthem,thisisonlytheirfirstrace.They’reclearlywellrested,theirhaircombedback,shirtssmooth,shieldingtheireyesfromthesun,restlessenergyripplingofftheirbodies.Nexttothem,Juliusmoveswiththecalculatedquietofapredator.Helowershimselfintothecorrectstance.Fingerstouchtheredsyntheticsurface.Shoulderstense.Eyesahead.
Theteacherraisesthestartingpistol.
Bang.
Cheersandscreamseruptfromthecrowdsinthestandsastheytakeoff.Fromtheverybeginning,he’saheadbyagoodfewfeet.I’vealwaysracedbesidehim,onlyeverbeengrantedflickersofmovementinmyperipheralvision,thethreatofhisfootstepsnexttome.I’veneverhadthechancetoobservehiminaction.Hemakesitlookeasy.Hiseverystrideislong,deliberate,steady.Herunslikethere’snogravity,likethere’snoresistance.
We’retypicallytoldtojogtheonethousandmeters,tosaveourstaminafortheend,buthesprintsthewholewaywithoutsomuchasfaltering.
“Holyshit,”Ihearsomeoneyellfromthesidelines.“Holyshit,dude.He’sgoingfast—”
“What’sgottenintohim?”
WhenJuliuscrossesthefinishlinealone,theindisputablewinner,towildroarsfromthespectators,agrinsplitsovermyface.
ButIbiteitbackdownwhenhewalksstraightovertome.Thegoldmedalswingsfromhisneck,gleaminginthesunlight.Hetakesitoff,thenholdsitouttowardme.
“Yours.”
I’dthoughthewasjoking.“You?.?.?.?Butyouwonit.Youshouldkeepit.”
Herollshiseyes.“IhavesomanyoftheselyingaroundmyhouseIdon’thaveanyroomleft.”
“Okay,you’rejustopenlybraggingnow—”
“Onlyspeakingthetruth.”
“I—”
“Justtakeit,Sadie.”Heclosesthedistancebetweenusandhangsthemedalaroundmyneck.It’sstillwarmfromhistouch,smoothagainstmyskinwhenIturnitover,unabletostopmyselffromadmiringitsfaintglow,theshineofthegold.Theweightofit.It’sprettierthananynecklaceI’veeverseen.Iopenmymouthtothankhim,butthenheadds,carelessly,“ConsideritcompensationforalltheawardsI’vetakenfromyou.”
Mygratitudecurdlesintoascoffonmytongue,andhelaughsatthelookonmyface.
“You’rewelcome,”hesays.
“Forbeingcocky?”
“Thattoo.”
ButIbrushmythumboverthemedal,andeventhoughIcan’tdecidewhatitreallymeans—agift,aformofcompensation,proofofsomething—it’ssomehowoneofthebestthingsI’veeverreceived.Thenextday,we’recalledintotheprincipal’sofficeagain.
It’sallthesame.Thesamedullcarpet,thesametwoseatspulledupinfrontofthedesk,thesamesuffocatingair.Thesamenervescoiledinthepitofmystomach.TheonlydifferenceisthewayJulius’seyescatchonminewhenIsitdownnexttohim.
“Well,hello,captains,”PrincipalMillergreetsus.
“Hi,”Isaycautiously.
“You’relookinggreattoday,PrincipalMiller,”Juliussays.I’malmostimpressedbyhisabilitytodivestraightintosuchshamelessflatteryatanygivenmoment.It’swaytooearlyinthemorningforthis.“Isthatanewtie?”
Theprincipalglancesdownathisplainblacktie,whichlooksidenticaltoeverysingletieI’veeverseenhimwear.IwaitforhimtoscoldJulius,buthispokerfacebreaksintoapleasedsmile.“Why,yes,itis.Thankyoufornoticing.”
You’rekiddingme.
“Whatdidyouwanttotalktousabout,PrincipalMiller?”Juliusasks.
Theprincipalrefocuses.“Ah,right.Iknowit’sbeenawhilesincewehadourlastconversationaboutyourlittle?.?.?.?incident.”Hismouthpuckerswithdistaste,asiftheincidentinquestioninvolveduspubliclyvandalizinghisofficeorundressingtheschoolmascot.“Ijustwantedtocheckinwithyoutwo.Howarewefeeling?Haveyoubeenenjoyingyourtimewitheachother?”
“Yes,I’vebeenhavingawonderfultime,”Juliussays.
WhenIturntohiminsurprise,hetiltshisheadalmostimperceptiblytowardtheprincipal,hiseyesnarrowing.
“Simplyincredible,”Iagree,catchingon.IfwecanjustconvincePrincipalMillerhisplanworked,wemightbeabletofinallyleavetheemailsbehindusandgoourseparateways.“We’resoclosenow.We’rebasicallybestfriends.”
“Thebestoffriends.”Juliusnodsfast.“Wehangoutevenwhenwe’renotatschool.She’sthefirstpersonIthinkofwhensomethinggoeswellandwhensomethinggoeswrong.Weevenfinisheachother’s—”
“Mathquestions,”Isay.“He’sbeenagreathelpinclass.”
“She’sright.Ihelpherallthetime.”
Iletoutahigh-pitchedlaugh.“Although,ofcourse,Ihelphimplentyaswell,seeingasI’mmuchmorefamiliarwiththesyllabusthanheis—”
“ButonlybecauseI’msobusydoingtheadvancedquestions.”Julius’sgrinissowideitlookslikeithurts.There’savisiblemuscletwitchinginhisjaw.“AndbecauseIdon’tfindmemorizingthesyllabustobeaneffectivestudymethod,althoughIconcedethatitmaybebeneficialforthosewitharudimentaryunderstandingofthecontent—”
“Whichisexactlythekindofthinkingthatcouldleadsomepeople,”Isayinabrightvoice,squeezingmyfingerstogetherunderthedesk,“tolosethreemarksonanimportanttestandthencomplainthatthetopicwasn’tcovered,whenitwasactuallystatedinblackandwhite.”
PrincipalMiller’sbrowsfurrow.
“AllofthisistosaythatJuliusislovely,”Isayquickly.
“AndSadieisthelightofmylife,”Juliussays,hislipcurling,eventhoughthere’sanoddnotetohistone.Somethingthatcouldbeconfusedforsincerity.“Thesuninmysky,thesourceofallmyjoy.She’sthereasonIwakeupeverymorningexcitedtogotomyclasses.NotadaygoesbywhereI’mnotgratefulthatsheexists,thatshe’sthere,thatIgettotalktoherandpassherinthehallsandlistentoherlaugh.”
I’mconcernedhe’sgoneabittoofarwiththeirony,butPrincipalMillerlooksconvinced.No,heevenlooksmoved
“Thatwasbeautiful,”theprincipalsays,andIhavetoremembernottorollmyeyes.“Truly.Ihavetoadmit,Iwassomewhatskepticalabouthowwellthiswouldworkoutbetweenyoutwogiventheratherintensenatureofthoseemails,but?.?.?.?well,IalwaysknewIwasamiracleworker.IguessIreallydocomeupwiththebestsolutions.”
Mymouthfallsopenofitsownaccord.Ican’tbelievethisistheconclusionhe’scometo.
“Ijusthaveonelasttaskforyou,”PrincipalMillersays.“Theseniortripiscomingupsoon,andaftertheless-than-positivefeedbackwereceivedforlastyear’strip—”
“Youmeanwhentheteacherstooktheclasstoasewagetreatmentplant?”Iclarify.
“Yes.”Herubsthebackofhishead.“Yes.Tobeclear,thatwasacaseoffalseadvertisingandmiscommunication,butthatisindeedwhatI’mreferringto.”
“Gotit.”
“That’swhyforthisyear,”hesays,“wewantmoreinputfromthestudents.I’mgoingtotrustyoutwotoprovideafewsensible,budget-friendlysuggestionsforwhereyoucouldstay.Itwouldbegreatifyoucouldgetthisorganizedassoonaspossibleandhandmeaproposaltomorrowmorning.”
“Wait.”IexchangeaquicklookofdisbeliefwithJulius,andforonce,thebattlelinesseemtobedrawnbeforeus,insteadofbetweenus.“Tomorrow—”
“Thatiscorrect.”Theprincipalmakesahandgesturethat’sprobablyintendedtobeencouraging,butlooksmorelikehe’sthreateningtopunchus.IfeellikeI’vebeenpunched.“Bestofluck,captains.”
???
“You’relate,”IinformJuliusthesecondhewalksin.
I’vebookedoneofthestudyroomsinthelibraryforustousethroughoutourspareperiod.Thepros:There’sanarched,stainedglasswindowofferingastunningviewoftheripplinglawnsbelow,andthewallsareperfectlysoundproof.There’salsoawhiteboardformetostickupphotosanddetailsofallthedestinationsI’vegathered.
Thecons:It’sclearlydesignedtoholdonlyasingleperson,whichmeanshehastosqueezehiswaypastthechairtoreachthesquareofemptyspaceavailablebesideme.Whichmeanswe’restandingmuchclosertogetherthanI’dlike.WhichmeansIhavetotakeadeep,steadyingbreath,forcingmyselftofocusontheboard,tokeepmyeyesoffhisface.
“Irememberwhenyouusedtoatleastpretendtobecivil,”Juliusremarksasheliftsthecoffeecupinhishandtohislips.“Youwouldoffermeaterriblyfakesmilefirst,thencomeupwithalong-windedwaytoremindmeofthetime,like:Isitjustme,orhastheschoolboughtnewclocks?Theminutehandlooksreallydifferent.Nowyouseemtohavenoproblemcriticizingmetomyface.Realprogress.”
Icarryonasifhehasn’tspoken.“You’relatebecauseyouwenttogetcoffee?”
“See.”Hepointsatme,asifI’vejustofferedvaluableevidenceforhisthesisstatement.“Somuchmorestraightforward.”Hetakesanotherslowsip.“Andyes,congratulations,yourbeverage-detectionabilitiesareimpressive.Itis,infact,blackcoffee.”
Iwrinklemynose.ThebitterscentissosharpIcanpracticallytasteit.“Howdoyouevenmanagetodrinkthatwithoutsugarorcream?”
“Ifinditbracing.”Thecornerofhismouthquirks,hiseyesblackandrazor-sharponme.“AndperhapsIpreferthechallenge.”
“Soundsmasochistic.”
“Itdoes,doesn’tit?”hesays.Thenheturnstotheboard.Looksoverit—myhardwork,theresourcesI’dpreparedaheadoftime,thedetailedstickynotesandcalculations—foralloffivesecondsbeforehetellsme,“Thebeachdestinationwon’twork,bytheway.Weshouldeliminatethatrightoffthebat.”
“Excuseme?Whynot?”ThebeachretreatwastheplaceI’dfoundmostpromising.It’sonlyatwo-hourdrivefromhere,andthesceneryisbeautiful:smoothsandandturquoisewavesandhammocksstrungbetweenpalmtrees.I’devenstartedmakingalistofalltheactivitieswecoulddo,frombeachvolleyballtosurfingtopickinguptrash,whichisn’tasfunbutisdefinitelygoodfortheenvironment.Theenvironmentcommitteecouldwriteanarticleaboutitfortheyearbook.
“Don’tgetmewrong,it’spretty,”hesayswithashrug.“Butthat’salsotheproblem.It’stooromantic.”
Istareathim.
Hesighs.LikeI’mbeingdenseonpurpose.“Doyouknowwhattheteachers’biggestfearwiththesekindsofretreatsis?”
“Thatoneofuswilldropdeadandtheschoolwillendupinvolvedinalong,painful,costlylawsuitdespitethefactthattheymadeallourparentssignthatformthatsaysinveryfineprintthatnobodyistoblameifwe’reinjured,abducted,ormurdered.”
“Close,butno.Ifwedie,that’sveryinconvenientforthem.Ifwehookup,that’sbothinconvenientandawkwardforthem.”
I’mprettysureallmyorgansstopfunctioning.“What—”
“WhenIsaywe,Iobviouslydon’tmean—us,”heclarifies,anddespitethetauntingnoteinhisvoice,hischeeksturnred.He’sblushing,Irealize.It’ssobizarre.Sounlikehim.It’savisibleweakness,andIquietlyfileitawayforlateruse.“Imeaningeneral.Ibelievethere’sascientificequationforit:Theprobabilityofteenagerssneakingintoeachother’sroomsandhookingupincreasesbyzero-point-fourwhenyouputtheminascenicbeachsetting.”
“You’remakingthatup,”Itellhim.“You’reliterallyjustsayingthatbecauseyouenjoydisagreeingwithme.”
Herollshiseyes.“Don’tflatteryourself.I’monlysayingwhatIknowistrue.”Thenhemovestotakedownthebeachretreatflyerfromtheboard.
Inonequickmovement,Iclapmyhandoverhis.Forcehisfingerstoflatten.Ignoretheheatofhisskinagainstmypalm.“We’remeanttoagreeonadestinationtogether.AndIdon’tagreewithyourightnow.”
“Whenhaveyouever?”hemutters.Butheshakeshishandfreefrommine,whichshouldbemoresatisfyingthanhurtful.
“I’mnotsayingthatitwouldn’tbeanissueiftheretreatturnedintosomekindof?.?.?.?matchmakingprocess,”Itellhim.“Butisthebeachnecessarilyconducivetothat?Whosaysithastoberomantic?”
“Idon’tknow,”hesayssarcastically,pretendingtothink.“Onlyeverymovieandbeachreadandsongtocomeoutinthepastdecade.”Hemustseethestubborndisbeliefwrittenovermyface,becausehetiltshishead.Sighsagain.“Okay,sinceyou’resolackinginimagination,letmesetthesceneforyou.It’ssunset,theskyistheperfectshadeofpink,theairjustwarmenoughthatyoucanslipoutofyoursweaterandsetitdownonthesandlikeatowel.Youcanhearthewaveslappingagainsttheshore,tastethesaltonyourtongue.There’smusicplayingsoftlyfromsomeone’sphonespeaker.You’resittingnexttothepersonyou’vebeeneyeingforthewholesemester,andwhenabreezerisesandmessesupyourhair,heliftshishandand?.?.?.”
Andheactuallydemonstrates,reachingoutacrossthetightspaceandbrushingastraystrandofhairbehindmyear,hiscoolfingertipsgrazingmyskin.It’ssuchasmall,briefmotion,thelightesttouch.It’spatheticthatIwouldevennoticeit.ButIfeelasharppangechothroughmyribs,sointenseitalmostresemblespain.MywholebodyoverreactsasifI’minmortaldanger,myheartbeatthuddingfasterandfasteruntilIcan’tstandit.Isqueezemyeyesshutagainsttheemotion,andwhenIopenthemagain,he’sstaringatme,hisjawstrained.
Heswallows,once.
“I—don’tseeyourpoint,”Imanage,myvoicetooloud.
Hisbrowsrise,hishandstilllingeringabovemyear.“Youdon’t?”
Itrequiresanincredibleamountofstrengthjusttospeak.“No.And—”Ipushdowntheoddlumpinmythroat.Domybesttosoundasflippantaspossible.“Ithinkyou’renotgivingour—peersenoughcredit.Theyhavesomediscipline,youknow.It’snotlikethey’regoingtotryandsneakoffintothecabinstomakeoutjustbecausetheview’sprettyandsomeonetouchedtheirhair—”
“Noteveniftheydidthis?”heasksquietly,andheleansforward.Allatoncehe’stooclose,overwhelminglyclose.I’mfrozentothespotashepausesonpurpose,hismouthbareinchesfromthebaseofmyneck,soIcanfeelhisbreathtremblingagainstmyskin.“Doyouneedmetodemonstratefurther?”
Alow,hoarsesoundescapesmylips.Itcouldbeaprotestoraplea;Idon’tknowanymore.Idon’tknowanything.
“Whatwasthat,Sadie?”hepresses,loweringhimselfbyjustanotherfractionofaninch—
Ishovehimaway.“Igetit”Myheartisstillbeatingatanabnormalrate,heatcoursingfuriouslythroughmyveins.Yetevenworsethanmyfearofwhatmight’vehappenedisthedisappointmentthatitdidn’t.Andthefearthathecansomehowsensemydisappointment,theitchinmyskinfromwherehismouthhadhoveredsecondsearlier.Onlyphysicalattraction,Iremindmyselfsternly.Itmustbesomekindofunfortunatesideeffectleftoverfromthekissattheparty.“Igetit,okay?Youdidn’thavetomakeyourcaseinsuchadisgustingmanner.”
Somethingshiftsinhisexpression.Thenhesmiles,andit’sassmugasever.“AreyouadmittingthatI’mright?”
“Yes.Fine.Whatever,”Ispitout.I’velosttheargument,butitfeelslikeI’velostsomethingmorethanthat.“Let’shearyourproposal,then.”
“That’sexactlywhatweshould’vedonefromthebeginning.”Hestepsbackandstartssearchinglocationsuponhisphonewiththebriskmannerofsomeoneinabusinessmeeting,leavingmetowonderifIhallucinatedthepastfiveminutes.Theonlyevidenceofitistheunevenbeatofmypulseandthehairtuckedbehindmyear.“Howaboutthis?”heasks,showingmethephotoonhisscreen.
It’saretreatinthemiddleofthemountainrangethreehoursfromhere,andallthewallsandfloorsaremadeofglass.Italsohappenstobesuspendedalmosttwothousandfeetaboveavalley,withan“open-airseatingarea”availableontherooftop.Themainwebsitedescribestheviewsas“thrilling,”whichImentallytranslateinto“terrifying.”
“Yourealizethereareatleastfivepeopleinouryearlevelwhoarescaredofheights,right?”Iask.
Hedoesn’tevenbataneye.“Thenthisispreciselywhattheyneed.Exposuretherapyhasbeenproventowork,hasn’tit?”
“Howcanyoubeso—socallous?”Idemand.
“I’mnotcallous.You’rejustsoft.”
Igritmyteeth.“Considerate,youmean.Thoughtful.Responsible.”
“Infutile,stubbornpursuitofmakingeverysinglepersonhappy,iswhatImean,”hecorrectsme.
“Andwhatofit?”Ishovehisphonebackintohishand.“Thisisthelasttripwe’lleverhavetogetherasayearbeforewegraduate.Iwanteveryonetohavethebesttimeoftheirlives,andthat’snotgoingtohappenifsomepeoplecan’tevencomfortablywalkfromoneroomtoanother.Also,doyouseethereviews?Youliterallyneedahelmetandaharnessjusttoclimbintobed.”
“Whichdefinitelysolvesthehooking?upproblem,”hesays.
“Don’tsoundsocertain.Somepeopleareintothatkindofthing.”
Helooks,briefly,stumped.Thenhebitesdownonhislip,hisshouldersshakingsohardheappearsindangeroffallingover.Hisvoiceissaturatedwithamusementwhenheslidesforwardagain.Tiltshisheadatme.“Wow.Ineverpeggedyouasthetype.”
“Shutup,”Igrumble.“Iwasjustmakingapoint.”
“SowasI.”
“Yourpointisn’tconvincingenough,”Isay,shakingmyselffreefromhisgaze.“Let’sgobacktothedrawingboard.”
“Yourwishismycommand,”hesayssweetly.SweetlyenoughthatIstareupathimandstumbleovermythoughtsandfallheadfirstintohistrap.Hestartslaughingagainasmyfaceoverheats.“Youreallylikethat,don’tyou?Soyouarethetype—”
Itwistmyheadawayanddragmylaptopclosertowardmelikeashield.Wespendtheremainingperiodgoingbackandforthoneverypossibleoption.Isuggestafarm;hesayshewouldliketogosomewherefreefromtheloomingthreatofaccidentallysteppingintoanimalexcrement.Hepullsupawebsiteforan“affordable”five-starhotelinthecitycenter;Iremindhimthatitwouldonlybeaffordableiftheschoolsolddrugsordonatedallourkidneys,whichleadsusonatangentaboutwhichteacherlooksmostlikeapotentialdrugdealer(webothsettleonMr.Kaye,andIobservehowdepressingitisthatthisissomehowtheonlythingwe’vemanagedtoagreeonsofar).Ithenraisetheideaoftravelingtoanationalpark;heproteststhathedoesn’tenjoyparks.
“Whyareyoumakingthissohard,Julius?Didn’tyouheartheprincipal?Thesecondwefinishthisproposal,thetorturewillstopandwe’llbereleasedfromeachotheratlast.Wewon’tevenhavetospeaktoeachothereveragain.”
Astrangelookcrosseshisface.“Iknowthat.”
“Then—”
“Let’schoosethisplace,”hesays,thehumorgonefromhistone.HepointsatalakesidelocationI’dpickedandhe’ddismissedbecausehefoundthewelcomemessageontheirhomepagesuspiciouslyfriendly
Iblink.“Really?That’s—Youagree?”
“Yeah.Sure.”Hestandsupandgrabshiscoffeecup,allwithoutlookingatme.AndeventhoughIshouldbegladwe’vetickedoffourfinaltask,gladderstilltoberidofhim,IfeelmorelikeI’vemissedasteponthestairs.BeforeIcanputafingeronit,heturnsaroundonhiswayoutandsaysonly,“Congratulations,Sadie.Thetortureisover.”Thetortureisover.
ThesearethelastwordsJuliusspeakstomeinoveramonth.Andthey’retrue.Orthey’resupposedtobetrue.AfterIdeliverthecompletedproposaltoPrincipalMiller,hedoesn’tbringupanymoretasksforJuliusandmetoworkontogether.Wegobacktoourownlives,ourownbusyschedulesandoldroutines.Wemoveliketwoplanetsinorbit;bothonthesametrajectory,butnevertouching.
Theonlytimehebreaksthesilenceiswhenwegetourtestsbackinmath.
“What’syourscore?”heasks,twistingaroundinhisseattolookatmypaper
Ipinitflatonthetable,facedown,andtrytoconcealmysurprise.Trytocontrolmybeatingheart.It’sbeensolongsincewe’vetalkedthatIfeeloddlyself-conscious,outofsyncwithourold,familiarrhythm.“Nottelling.”Actually,Idon’tmindshowinghim—Ireceiveda100percent.Ijustwanttobedifficult.Ijustwanthimtokeeptalkingtome.
Heregardsmewithanintensitythat’ssurprising.He’sgrippinghispapersotightlyit’sstartingtocrease.“I’lltellyoumineifyoutellmeyours,”hesays.
“Promise?”
Hisgazeissharp.“Ofcourse.”
“Fine.”Iletmyfacebreakintoasatisfiedsmile.“Onehundredpercent.”
Thecornersofhislipscutdown—thesubtlestofreactions,thesmallestsignofirritation—buthesimplyturnsaroundagain.
“Hey.”Ifrownathisback.“Hey,aren’tyougoingtotellmeyours?”
“I’drathernot.”
Mybloodheats.“Youliterallypromisedme,like,twosecondsago—”
“Iwascrossingmyfingers,”hesays.
“Youwerewhat?”
Heliftshisfingerstoshowme.“See?Itdoesn’tcount.”
“Oh,right.”Isnort.“Verymature.”
“Youonlyhaveyourselftoblame,”hesays.“Whywouldyoubelievemeinthefirstplace?”
Asutterlyinfuriatingashe’sbeing,partofmeisalmostgratefulforit.Thisistheversionofhim—ofus—I’musedto.Maybeeverythingisstillthesame.“Justshowittome,Julius,”Idemand.
“No.”
“Thendon’tblamemeforthis.”Beforehehastimetoreact,Ilungeacrossthedeskandsnatchhispaperoutofhishandandfliptothefrontpage,expectingthesamescoreasmineora98atthelowest—
86percent.
Istareatthenumberinred,stuckontheimpossiblediscovery.IhavetoblinkfasttomakesureI’mnotreadingitupsidedown.It’sthekindofscoresomeonelikeRaywouldbeoverjoyedwith.ThekindofscoreGeorgina’sparentswouldbuyherabrand-newcartorewardherfor.Butbyourstandards,JuliusandIbothknowthatanyscorestartingwiththenumber8issubpar.It’sjustaboveaverage.It’sanabomination.
“Areyoudone?”hesnaps,grabbinghispaperback.There’satendonstraininginhisneck,andhequicklycoversthescoreupwithhissleevelikeit’saterriblescar.
“S?sorry,”Istammer,atalossforwhattodo,howtoreact.“Ididn’tknow—Iwasjust—”
“Youcangloat,”hesays,anedgetohisvoice.“Goahead.Doit.It’swhatIwoulddo.”
Eventhoughit’salsowhatIwouldhavedoneamonthago,Idon’tfeellikegloatingatall.“Julius?.?.?.”
Atthefrontoftheclassroom,Mr.Kayelaunchesintohisnextlecture,effectivelyendingtheconversation.Juliusdoesn’tturnaroundagain.Andjustlikethat,thesilenceisback,aheavycurtainfallingbetweenus.Itlastsfortherestoftheclass,thentherestoftheday,thentherestoftheweek.Funnyhowquicklymydefinitionoftorturecanchange.
???
Ikeepmyeyesonthebakerydoor,butnobodywalksin.
Wehaven’thadanycustomerssofartoday,andIcanonlyblametheweather.It’snotexactlyraining,buteverynowandthenadarkcloudpasses,andafewmeaslydropsofwaterwilldampenthecement.Liketheskycan’tmakeupitsmind.
Inthedim,graylight,Istackupthetraysandwipedowntheglassandlineupournewlayeredstrawberrycakesbehindthedisplay.Mymom’sheadedoffearlytomeetwithanaccountant,leavingMaxandmeheretowatchoverthebakery.Well,I’mwatchingoverthebakery.Maxiswatchingabasketballgameonhisphoneandmunchingonaneggtart.
“Ihavetoask,”Isay.“Doyoureallyjustnothavehomework?Ever?”
Hereplieswithoutglancingup.“Nope.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
“Thenwhydidyouask?”
Irubmyhandovermyface.UsuallyI’ddropthematterandlethimwastetimehoweverhewants.Buttoday,Ifeelaflickerofirritation.“Couldyoumaybepretendtobeproductive,then?Oreven,Idon’tknow,helpoutalittlearoundthestore?”
“Okay,whoa,dude.You’vebeeninafoulmoodrecently,”Maxsays,settinghisphoneasideatlast.Hewipestheeggtartcrumbsfromhischinandleansforwardinhisseat.“Didyougetrejectedbyaboyorsomething?Ifyoudid,justtellme—Icanbeathisass.”
“I’dratheryouscrubatable,”Itellhim,fightingtokeepmyexpressionplain,evenwhenIcanfeelmyskinheating.
“Now,let’snotbesoextreme,”Maxsays.“AndthattimeIcleanedatable,youandMombothyelledatmeforusingthewrongcloth.”
“Asintheclothweusetowipethefloor—”
Thedoorswingsopenbehindme,andIspinaroundinstinctivelytogreetthem,mycustomer-servicesmileready—
UntilIseewhoitis.
JuliusGongisstandingintheentrance.He’sstillwearinghisschooluniform,buthe’sdiscardedhisblazer,andhistieisundone,hanginglooseoverhiswhitebutton-downshirt.Helooksdifferent,forareasonIcan’tquiteplacemyfingeron.Maybeit’shisstance.Orthecreasebetweenhisbrows.Theshadowsunderhiseyes.
“Whyareyouhere?”Iblurtout.
Hecrosseshisarmsoverhischest,butnotbeforesomecomplicatedemotionflickersacrosshisfeatures.“Whycan’tIbehere?”hedrawls.“Iwasintheneighborhoodandwantedtobuybread.ObviouslyIdidn’tknowthatyouwouldbehere.”
“Obviously,”Irepeat,embarrassednowbymyinitialreaction.Ofcoursehewouldn’tbeherebecauseofme.Infact,I’mwillingtobetthatifhe’dknownhewouldbumpintome,hewouldhavedriventwentymilestothebakeryontheothersideoftownjusttoavoidthisencounter.
“Areyougoingtoturnawayacustomer?”heasks,achallengeintheliftofhisbrow.“PrettysureIcouldfileacomplaintforthat.”
Ichewmytongue.TheideaofhavinghimaroundwhileIworkfillsmewithaveryspecific,skin-tinglingkindofdread.Butbusinessisbusiness.SoIplastermysmilebackonagainandgesturetotheshelveswithbothhands.“Whatwouldyouliketoday?”
“Let’ssee?.?.?.”Hewalksupanddownthebakery.Pastthesweettarobunsandthepizzarollsandtheflakingcoconutpastries.Hepauses,leansclosertoinspectthedisplays.Reachesout,asiftograbsomething,thenretractshishand.Andstartswalkingalloveragain.
Aftertenminutesofthis,Ilosemypatience.“Areyouheretoselectbreadorafuturewife?What’stakingsolong?”
Hissmileissharp,taunting.“Thelatter.”
“Youcan’tbe—”Itakeadeepbreath,rememberingeverybasiccustomer-serviceruleI’veeverlearned.Bereceptivetobothpositiveandnegativefeedback.Takethetimetolearnyourcustomers’expectations.Offersolutions,notexcuses.Don’tpushyourcustomerintothestackofmangopuddingcupsinthecorner,evenwhenthey’rebeingdifficultonpurpose—
“Isthatyourbrother?”heasks,lookingpastme,toMax.
“I’mafraidwedon’towecustomerspersonaldetails,”Isaysweetly.“Ifyoucouldjustfocusonbuyingwhatyouneed—”
“Yeah,Iam,”Maxsays,risingfromthechair.Traitor.HescansJuliusfromheadtotoelikehe’ssizinghimupbeforeawrestlingmatch.“Who’sthisguy?”
“Nobody,”Isay.
“Julius,”Juliussays.Imightaswellbetalkingtoair.“IgotoSadie’sschool.Youmighthaveheardaboutme.”
Maxscruncheshisforehead.“Sorry,bro.Doesn’treallyringabell.”BeforeIevenhavethechancetofeelgrateful,hiseyesnarrow.“Hangonasecond—areyoutheonewhorejectedmysister?Isthatwhyshe’sbeensomopey?”
“What?”Ihiss.
“What?”Juliusasks,stiffeningatonce.Hisgazeflickerstome.
“Don’tlistentohim,he’smakingthingsup,”Isay,steppingfirmlybetweenthem.“Max,justgobacktowatchingyourbasketballgame.AndJulius,just?.?.?.?getoutoftheway.”
Juliusliftshischin.“WhatifIalsowanttowatchthegame?I’mahugefanofthe—”Hepausesjustforafractionofasecond,andglancesatthephoneonthetable.“TheHunterstoo.”
I’mcompletelybaffled,butMax’sstancerelaxes,hisfacebreakingintoabroadgrin.
“Bro,youshould’veledwiththat.Come,come,sitdown.”
“Whatareyouonabout?”ImutteroutthesideofmymouthasJuliusmovespastmetojoinmybrother.There’snowaythisisactuallyhappening.There’snoreasonforhimtobedoingthisexcepttoirritateme.“Youdon’tevenlikebasketball.”
Hepauses.“Peoplecanchange,”hesays,adiscernibleedgetohisvoice.“You’vechanged.”
“HowhaveI—”
“You’vebeenmopingbecauseofaboy,lastIheard,”hewhispersagainstmyear.Heatrushesupmyneck,gatheringaroundthepointwhereIcanfeelhislips.“Whoisit?DoIknowhim?”
“Itoldyou,nobody.Ignoremybrother.”
It’sevidentfromhisexpressionthathedoesn’tbelieveme.
“Fine.Thinkwhateveryouwant,”Igrumble,twistingaround.“Ihaveotherthingstodo.”
TheskybeginstoclearasIsweepthefloorsandpreparethenextbatchofeggtarts.Theremnantsofraindryup;thecloudsfloatinrose-pinkwispsovertheslopinghorizon,soinsubstantialtheycouldscatterwithasingleexhale.Goldensunlightfiltersthroughthewindows,warmslantsofitfallingoverthetablewhereJuliusandMaxsit.NotthatI’mlookingtheirwayoften.NotthatI’msneakingcuriousglancesatJuliusornoticingthewayherunshishandeversocasuallythroughhishair.
Definitelynot.
Astheweatherimproves,morecustomerstricklein.Anoldwomanwithherbagsfullofdragonfruitandmarinatedmeats.Amotherandhertwotoddlers,whopresstheirfacesrightupagainstthecakedisplay.Aprettygirlmyage,whosomehowmanagestomakeaplainwhiteshirtandschoolskirtstylish.Shelooksfamiliar,anditclicksafteramoment:She’stheonethatguyinmyyearlevelwasstalkingduringtheAthleticsCarnival.
Shedoesn’tseemparticularlyinterestedinthefood.Fromthesecondsheenters,herattentionsnapstoJulius,andshedriftstowardhistable.
Iwatchtheirexchangesilentlyfrombehindthecounter.
“WoodvaleAcademy,right?”thegirlasks,pointingtohisuniformfromsuchaclosedistancethatitdefeatstheverypurposeofpointing.
Juliusliftshisheadfromthegameplayingonthescreen.Acknowledgesherwithafaintsmile.Igrindmybackteeth.“That’sright.”
“IalwaysheardtheboyswerehotteratWoodvale,”shesays,brushingherbangsoutofherface.“AndhereIthoughttheywereexaggerating.”
Juliuslaughs,andIfeelahotrushofviolence.Myfingernailsdigintothecountersurfaceasheturnsfullytowardher.
“I’mnotsureifyourecognizeme?”thegirlcontinues.“Alotofpeoplefollowmeonline.NotsayingI’mfamous,butI’mnot,like,notfamouseither.”
“Thisismyfirsttimeseeingyouanywhere,”Juliussays.
Shedoesn’tseemfazed.“Well,it’snevertoolate.Ifyouwanttosearchmyname?.?.?.”Thensheholdsoutahandforhisphone.
Iexpecthimtodecline.It’snotlikethisisthefirsttimeagirlhasshowninterestinhim,famousornot.Inyeareight,basicallyeveryoneintheyearlevelhadacrushonhimbecausehewasthefastestrunnerinPEandcouldopenanybottleyoupassedtohim.Inyearnine,everyonelovedhimbecausehewasinvitedtodosomekindoffashionshootfortheschool,andinthefinalphotoshewasenviablybeautiful,hisshirtsleevesfolded,hisblackhairfallinglongandsoftoverhiseyes.Inyearten,everyonewantedhimbecausehejustwas.Becausehedidn’tseemtocaremuchforanyone,whichlenthimacool,unapproachableair.Becausehehadgrownanothertwoinchesandhisshoulderswerebroaderandhisjawsharper.Becausehehadawayofspeakinglikeeverythinghesaidmattered,meantsomething.
Andwhilehe’salwaysbaskedintheattention,he’sneverseemedparticularlyinterestedincommittingtoarelationship.
WhichiswhyI’mstunnedtoseehimtakeouthisphonenowandpassitover.Hisgazeflitstomeasthegirltypesouthername,likehewantstomakesureI’mwatching,andIrememberhowmuchIhatehim.It’saphysicalkindofhatred,thekindthatfeelslikesomeone’sshovedtheirfistintomychest.Thekindthatmakesmygumsitch.
“Okay,sothisismyaccount,”she’sexplaining,asthoughhe’sneverusedaphonebefore.“I’vefollowedmyselfforyou.Theserecentpicturesonthebeacharesoembarrassing—Imean,IknowthecommentsallsayIlooksupercute,butIhavemixedfeelingsaboutthebikini—”
“I’msorrytointerrupt,butwe’reclosing,”Iannounce.It’strue.Well,technically,weshouldbeclosingintwoandahalfminutes,butalltheothercustomershavealreadyleft.
Thegirlblinksatme.Juliusjustsmiles.
“IguessIbettergetgoing,then,”thegirlsays,andshootsmesuchafriendlylookIfeelbad.Ialmostconsidertakingbackmywords,invitinghertostaylongerifshereallywantsto—untilshegripsJulius’sshoulder,delicatefingerscurlingintohisshirt,andadds,“Remember,youcanmessagemewhenever.Tonight,ifyou’dlike.”
Juliusisstillsmilingatmewhenhereplies.“I’llkeepthatinmind.”
???
Juliusdoesn’tleave.
NotwhenIflipthesignonthedoor,orwhenIturnoffthefrontlights,orwhenItellhim,quiteclearly,“Youshouldleave.”
Hestandsup,butonlytoleanbackagainstthewall.“Areyougoingtomakeme?”
“Ican,”Isay.“You’renotacustomeranymore.Icandoanything.”
Hisstancedoesn’tchange.“Doit,then.Dowhateveryouwant.”
Irritationfloodsthroughme.I’mseriouslycontemplatingwhetherornottodraghimoutbyforcewhenInoticethesetofhisjaw.Thegleaminhiseyes.He’sgoadingme.Butit’snotjustthat.It’sasif?.?.?.?he’slookingforafight,oradistraction.Irememberhowhe’dlookedwhenhefirstenteredtheshop,andIfeelmyselfhesitate.
Butheseemstosensethechangeinme.Inaheartbeat,hewithdraws,hisexpressionsnappingclosed.“HonestlyIwasn’tplanningonstayinglonganyway,”hesays,pushingofffromthewall.“Seeyouatschool.”
“Hey—”
Hestepsoutwithoutanotherword,leavingmestaringinhiswake,myheadbuzzingasifI’vejustbeencrammingforafinalexam.There’stoomuchnoise,toomanyconfoundingconcepts.Hedidn’tevenbuyanybread.
“He’sintoyou,”Maxremarksfrombehindme.
Istartle.“Excuseme?”
“Hekeptlookingoveratyou,”hesayswithalittlegrin.“Atleastthirtytimes.Icounted.”
“Ididn’tknowyoucouldcountthathigh,”Isaydryly,tohidemyspeedingpulse.
“I’mserious.Honestlyyoucoulddoworse.He’sathletic,likeyou,andhe’stall,andgood-looking—”
“I’mnothavingthisconversation,”Iannounce.“Andfortherecord,you’rewrong.Hewasprobablyjuststaringatsomespotbehindme;everytimeIlookedover,hewaswatchingthegamewithyou.”Igesturetothetablewherethey’dbeenseated,thenpause.Julius’sphoneisstilllyingthere,faceup.He’dbeeninsucharushtogothathemusthaveforgottenit.Iswivelmyheadaround,squintthroughthewindow,buthe’salreadyhalfwaydownthestreet,hisleansilhouetteashadowinthefallingdarkness.
“I’llberightback,”Isay,grabbingthephone.AsIdo,Ican’thelpnoticingthatit’sstillopentothegirl’saccount—buthe’sunfollowedheralready.Astonedislodgesfrommychest,theresultingrushofreliefsostrongit’strulyembarrassing.Totallyirrational.
YetmywholebodyfeelslighterasIslipthroughthedoorwayandrunafterhim,theeveningairwhippingmyhair.Mostoftherestaurantsarestillopenatthishour,theorangelightfrominsidespillingoutinlongrectangles.
Iturnthenextcornerandskidtoahalt.
Juliusisstandinginfrontofaparkedsportscar.Foranabsurdmoment,Ithinkitbelongstooneoftheauntiesweshowedaroundtheschool.Butno,thiscarisevenmoreexpensive,sonewit’sgleaming.Thewindowsarerolleddown,andIglimpsetheunmistakablefaceofJulius’sbrother.He’snotbeamingthistimethough;hisbrowsarepinchedtogether,irritationwrittenoverallthefeaturestheyshare.
“.?.?.can’tjuststormofflikealittlekideverytimeyou’reupset,”Jamesissaying.“Itwasn’tabigdealoranything.Ourparentsweremerelygivingyousomeadvice—”
“Howdidyouevenfindme?”Juliusdemands.Hisbackisturnedtome;Ican’tseehisexpression,butthefrostinhisvoiceisclear.
“Itwashardlydetectivework,Ju?zi.Isawyoursearchresults.”
“My—”Julius’sframestiffens.“Thoseareprivate.”
“Calmdown,it’snotlikeyouweresearchinguptheclosestbrothel.It’sjustabakery.Whatareyougettingallflusteredfor?”
Therestaurantlightsdon’tquitereachthepavementhere,soIstepforwardquietly,hiddenbehindanoaktree,mybodypressedtothebark.Idon’twanttoeavesdrop.Idon’tmeanto.Butthewordsflyaroundmymindlikehornets.Searchresults.Private.He’dbeensearchingforabakery?Forthisbakery?
“Youreallydidn’tneedtocome,”Juliussaystightly.
“You’restillupset,”Jamesobserves,windingthewindowsdownfartherandleaningout.“Why?Justbecausewewantedtoknow—forgoodreason—whyyoubasicallyfailedyourlastmathtest?Itisalittleconcerning.YoukeeplettingthatSadiegirlbeatyou—”
Myhearthitsmyribs.
They’retalkingaboutme.
“Idon’teverletherdoanything,”Juliussnaps,andeveninthedimlight,Icanmakeouttheshapeofhisknuckleswhenheclencheshisfists.“She’ssmart,okay?She’saformidableforce.Shedoeseverythingshesetshermindtoandnothingcanstandinherway.Notevenme.”
“That’sall?”Jamesasks.There’ssomethingcuriousabouthistone,somethingthatmakesmynextbreathcomeouttooshortandfast,makesmyheartcrawlupmythroat.
Juliusmusthavedetectedittoo.“Whatareyousuggesting?”
“Imean,you’resureitdoesn’thaveanythingtodowiththewayyouwereactingaroundheratthebookstore?Isawthelookinyoureyes.I’veneverseenitbefore,butnow—”
“You’remistaken,”Juliussayscoldly.
“IhopeIam,”Jamestellshim.“Thisisyourfinalyearofschool.Thisisthebeginningoftherestofyourlife;youneedtosetthetoneright.Idon’texpectyoutogetafullscholarshiptoHarvardandfollowinmyfootstepsexactly,butcomeon.Ourfamilyhasstandards.Iwouldhatetoseeyougettingdistractedandlosingyourwitsoversomegirlandlettingallyourworkgotowaste—”
“That’snot—”
“Becauseyou’llhaveplentyoftimetodatearoundafteryougetintoyourdreamschool,yeah?Onceyouentercollege,you’llseethattherearefarprettiergirlsoutthere.It’sallabouttiming.Aboutpriorities.Andlook,Iunderstand.Ido.Ifthisisjustphysicalattraction—Ifyouneedtohookupwithheronceandgetitoutofyoursysteminordertofocusonwhatmatters,thenbyallmeans—”
“Stoptalkingabouther,”Juliuscutsin,andthethreatinhisvoicealmostmakesmestepback.EvenJamesfalters.“Don’tdragherintothis.Ialreadytoldyou.IfIunderperformedonatest,that’smyownfault.I-I’llstudyharder—I’lldobetter—”
“I’monlysaying.”Jamestapshisfingersagainstthedashboard.“IneverhadsomuchtroublewhenIwasyourage.Inevercamesecondinanything.IfIwereyou,Iwouldbeashamed.”
Ican’texplainwhatcomesoverme.
It’slikesomebodyhaslitaflameinmybloodstream,takencontrolofmybody.AllIseeistheopenhurtinJulius’seyes,theshamewashingoverhisface,thewayhehangshishead,andIlosemymindalittle.
Istepoutfrombehindthetreeandmarchstraighttowardthecar,myhandsballedintotightfists,mypulsebeatingfast.“Foryourinformation,”Isay,myvoicesoloudandsharpitsoundsforeigntomyownears,“Juliusisoneofthebeststudentsintheyearlevel.”
Juliusblinksatmeinsurprise.“Sadie?Whatareyou?.?.?.”Heflushes,hiseyesflittingbetweenmeandhisbrother.“Thisisn’tnecessary—”
“Shutup,Julius,”Isnap.“I’mtalking.”
“Yeah,lethertalk,”Jamessays,tiltinghisheadandappraisingmeasifI’manunexpectedbonusquestionattheendofatest.“It’sgoodtoseeyouagain,SadieWen.Ofcourse,Ineverimagineditwouldbeunderthepresentcircumstances—”
Ispeakoverhim.“You’rewrongaboutJulius.Hehasn’tslackedoffonasingletestinthetenyearsI’veknownhim.He’spresidentofeveryclubhe’srunfor.He’stheonlyonewhocouldgethisclassmatestogivehimastandingovationforaminorEnglishpresentation.Andifheevercomesinsecond,it’snotbecauseheisn’tgoodenough—it’ssimplybecauseI’mbetter—”
Juliuscoughs.“Isthiswholethingbuildinguptoaself-congratulatoryspeech?”
“AreyouunabletostopyourselffrombeingirritatingwhenI’mliterallydefendingyou?”Ihiss.
“Yes,well,youseemedtobegettingsidetracked—”
“You’retheonegettingsidetracked.”Isqueezemyeyesshut.Rakemyhandthroughmyhair.Catchmytrainofthoughtagain.“WhatIwassayingisthatdespitehowannoyingJuliusis,andhowvain,andcowardly,andinsincere,everyonewho’smethimknowshe’sdestinedforgreatthings.Throughsheerstubbornnessandmanipulation,he’llfindawaytomakegreatthingscometohim.”
JamescastsJuliusaskepticallook.“Arewetalkingaboutthesamepersonhere?”
“Maybeyoujustdon’tknowyourbrotherthatwell,”Isaycoldly.Ican’tremembereverfeelingsoangry.Sotemptedtosmashacarwithahammer.No,that’salie—Juliusalwaysmanagestoinfuriateme.Theironyisthatforthefirsttime,I’mnotangryathim;I’mangrybecauseofhim.Becausetheonlypersonwhoshouldbeallowedtoattackhimisme.
Jamesissilentforawhile.Thenhelaughs,thesoundbrightandtoocheery,echoingdownthestreet.“Howtouching,thatmylittlebrotherhasagirlouthereprotectinghisdignity.Thisisreallyverysweet.”
“It’snotabouthisdignity,”Itellhim,articulatingeachandeveryword.“It’saboutmine.Byinsultingmycompetition,you’reinsultingme.”
Heraiseshisbrows.“That’squitetheboldstatement.”
NormallyIwouldshrivelupatthiskindofaccusation.Blushandbackdown.Swallowmywords,relinquishthespaceI’veearned.Buttheadrenalineisstillpumpingthroughmyveins,anditfeelsdifferentwhenI’mspeakingforthebothofus.When—godknowshowthishappened—we’reonthesameside.“Andwhatofit?”
Jameslaughsagain,hismouthsowideIcanseehisbackteeth.“Iguesswe’llseeifyou’rerightwhentheend?of?yearresultscomeout,huh?”ThenhelooksoveratJuliusandbeckonsforhimwithtwofingers.“Stopsulkingnowandgetinthecar.”
“Wait,”Isay,remembering.“Yourphone.Youforgotit.”
IholdthephoneoutandJuliustakesitverycarefully,buthishandstillbrushesagainstmine,thebarestcontactsomehowtorturous.Hehesitates.Meetsmygaze.Athousandemotionsswiminhiseyes,onetiedtoanother:gratitudeandresentmentforhisgratitudeandsomethingelse.“Sadie,”hesays,quiet,hisvoicepitchedonlyforthespacebetweenus.“I?.?.?.”
Theheadlightsswitchon,theharshwhitebeamoflighthalfblindingme.Iblockmyfacewithonehand,squinting.
“Getin,”Jamesrepeats.“Hurry.”
Julius’slipspart,buthesettlesforanod,thenclimbsslowlyintothecar.Thedoorslock;theenginestarts.Astheydrivedowntheroad,IthinkIcatchhimturningaroundintheseat.Lookingbackatme.
???
Ican’tstopthinkingabouthim.
It’smortifying.Unproductive.Unnatural.Andquitefrankly,it’sreallyenraging.Hehasnorighttooccupythismuchspaceinsidemyhead.YetafterIgohomewithMaxandlockmyselfinmybedroomwitheveryintentionofcompletingmyhistoryhomeworkaheadoftime,Iendupstaringatmywallforelevenminutes.
“Stopit,”Ihissatmyself,rubbingmyface.“Getagrip.”
Mybrainhasalwaysbeendisciplined.Goodatcompartmentalizingfeelings,separatingnecessaryinformationfromgarbage,labelingthegoodandtheterrible.JuliusabsolutelygoesintotheTerriblefolder.
Yettonight,mybrainbetraysme.EvenwhenItrytodistractmyselfbydoingtwicemyusualsetofsit-ups,hopingthephysicalexhaustionwillquietmymind,allitdoesismakemymusclesache.
Likeacompulsion,abadhabitIcan’tchange,Ikeepimaginingtheridehomeforhim.WouldJuliusbefightingwithhisbrother?Wouldmynamecomeupagain?Wouldhebewonderingaboutme?
FinallyIgiveupandmessageAbigail.Justtwowords:bluedress
It’sthecodeweuseineveryminiemergency,frombreakupstobadgradestoboringfamilyreunions.Itmeans:Help.Itmeans:Dropeverythingandtalktome.WefirstcameupwithitwhenItoreamassiveholethroughthebackofmydressonashoppingtrip,andAbigailimmediatelyrantothecloseststoretobuymeajackettocoveritup.I’dneverseensomeonewhipouttheircreditcardsofast.
Abigailcallsmewithintwoandahalfminutes.“Yes,darling?Whatfireareweputtingout?”
“Areyoubusy?”
“I’minmyroomnow,”shesays,andIhearthesoftclickofthedoor,theshuffleofherpillows.“Soifyou’regoingtotellmethatyourobbedabank,nobodywilloverhear.”
“It’snotthat,”Itellher,laughingweakly.Ialmostwishitwerethat.Itwouldbeastraightforwardfixatleast.“It’sonly?.?.?.”Ipause,unsurehowtoarticulatewhatI’mfeelingwhenIcan’tmakesenseofitmyself.“Howdoyouknowifyou?.?.?.?youknow.”
“Uh,no?”
Iwince.Squeezemyeyesshut.Prythewordsfrommyteeth.“Howdoyouknowifyou?.?.?.?likesomeone?”
“Oh”Hertonechangesinstantly.Thesmileisplaininhervoice.“Thisisoneofthoseconversations.It’sbeenagessinceyouhadacrushonsomeone.”
“Itmightnotbe,”Irushtotellher,straighteninginmychair.“I’monly.Confused.AndIwasstandingoutsideinthecoldforawhiletonightsothere’sachanceIcouldjustbeexhibitingtheearlysignsofafever—”
“Youdon’thavetoexplainyourself.Letmeaskyouthis:Doyouthinkabouthimalot?”
“Not,like,alot?.?.?.”
“Yourvoicealwaysgetssqueakywhenyou’relying,”shepointsout.“Thisisn’tgoingtoworkifyou’renothonest.”
“Okay.Okay,so,maybe?”Iholdthephoneclosertomyearandconsiderthequestionlikeit’soneofthosetwenty-markshortessaypromptsonatest.“Likeinthemornings,whenI’mabouttoentertheclassroom,Ido?.?.?.?wonderabouthim.Myheartspeedsup,andI’mirrationallyangrywhenIdoseehim,butondayswhenhe’snotthere,I’malsodisappointed.Andeverynowandthen—justlikeeveryfewminutesorso—Imightbecuriousaboutwhathe’sdoing.Andafterwetalk,Ialwaysgobackandoveranalyzeeverythinghe’ssaid,andwhatI’vesaid.Iwanttoleaveagoodimpression.Iwanttobebetterthanhim,butIalsowanttoimpresshim?.?.?.”
“Ihatetobreakittoyou,butthatdoesn’tsoundlikeabasiccrush,”Abigailinformsme.“Thatsoundsreallyserious,Sadie.”
“No,”Iprotest,panicking.“No,it’snot—Itcan’tbe.Imean,wouldn’tIfeelallthosethingstooifIhatedhim?Howcanyoueventellthedifferencebetweenlikingandloathingsomeone?Physicallyspeaking.Howdoyouknowifyourbloodpressureisrisingbecauseofhowannoyingtheyare,orhowattractiveyoufindthem?Ifyourhandsareshakingbecauseyou’reholdingbackfromstranglingthem,orkissingthem?”
“Holyshit.”
“What?”
“It’sJulius,isn’tit?”Abigailsays.“You’retalkingaboutJuliusGong.”
Ichokeandwonderifit’spossibleforsomeonetodiefromsheerembarrassment.Eventhesoundofhisnameisapparentlytoomuchforme.MypulseisracingsofastIcanfeelthebloodinmyveins.Pathetic.Icouldkickmyself.“Um?.?.?.”
“Ohmygod,”shesayshoarsely.Repeatsitoverandoverinahundreddifferentvariations,likeshe’stryingtoreinventthephrase.“Ohmygod,ohmygod.Oh.Mygod.Ohmygod—”
“Atthisrateyou’reliterallygoingtocallGoddowntoearth,”Ihiss,pressingahandtomyburningface.
“No,no,youknowwhat,darling,I’mnotjudging.Notatall,”shesays.“Iwasgenuinelyattractedtoacartoonlionatthirteen.Like,somethingabouthisclawsreallyworkedforme.”
“Ican’tbelieveyou’redrawingparallelsbetweenthesetwobizarrelydifferentsituations,”Isay.“First,Juliusisaperson—”
“He’salsobeenmakingyoumiserablefortenyears,”shecutsin.“Don’tyourememberwhenyouwereassignedtothesamegroupproject,andhesecretlyworkedaheadofyousohewouldlookmorepreparedinfrontoftheteacher?Orwhenhebeatyouinthespellingcompetitionandfollowedyouaroundtheschooljusttorubthetrophyinyourface?OrwhenhegotallthoserosesforValentine’sDayandputtheminavaserightaboveyourlockertotauntyoufornotreceivingany?”
“Allfondmemories,yes,”Isay.“Irememberclearly.But?.?.?.”
ButIalsorememberthesoftnessofhisblazeraroundmyshoulders.Thelookonhisfacetonight,thequickviolenceinhisvoicewhenhisbrotherspokeofme.Hisbreathing,quietbesideme,ashesweptconfettifromtheflooraftertheparty.Hishands,firmbutwarmaroundmywristsaftertherace.Theshineofthemedal,thelightinhiseyes,thecurveofhislips.Sobeautifulandinfuriatingandconfusing.Soreadytosplitmeopenwithasingleword,stitchmeupagainwithafleetingtouch.
“Doyouthinkthere’sanychance?.?.?.”Itfeelssofoolish,evenaskingitoutloud.“Anychancehewouldlikeme?”
“Wow,yeah,you’reindeep,”shesays.“AndIdon’tseewhyhewouldn’t.You’rethewholepackage.You’resmartandgoodateverythingandyou’retotallyhotinthiskindofsuccessfulfuture-executiveway—”
Isnortoutalaughdespitemyself.ThenIcometoasoberingrealization.“Butyou’renotfactoringintheemails,”Itellher.“Youshould’veseenhowupsethewaswhenhefirstreceivedthem.Idon’tthinkhe’sforgivenmeforthemyet.Idon’tknowifheeverwill.”
“Right.”Shepauses.“Aboutthoseemails—”
“Like,wouldyoueverwanttobewithsomeonewhoonceexpressedtoyou,clearly,inwrittentext,thattheywouldratherlistentosomeoneperformslampoetryaboutcorporateincometaxesinanauditoriumwithoutventilationonthehottestdayofsummerwhileababyplaystug?of?warwiththeirhairfrombehindthanhavetositthroughyourspeechforschoolcaptainagain?”
There’salongsilence.Then,inavoiceofforcedoptimism,shesays,“Maybehe’llwakeuponedayandlosehalfhismemories.”
“Soit’spointlesshowIfeel.”Islumpbackinmyseatagain.“Becausehe’llneverbeabletomovepastthis.”
“Youcan’tbecertain,”sheinsists.“Youcan’tbecertainofanythingunlessyoutellhim,face?to?face.”
Icough.“Tellhim?Tellhimwhat?Oh,hi,Iknowwe’vehatedeachother’sgutsforadecadeandyoufindmeinsufferable,butIthinkweshouldmakeout.”
“It’saprettyconvincingpitch,”shesays.“Andyouknowwhat?Theretreatwillbetheperfecttimetodoit.You’llbeinthesameplace,andyou’llhavetimetoyourselves,andtherewon’tbeasmanyteachersaround.Theonlyshameisthattheretreatisn’tsetat,like,abeachorsomething.Itwouldbesocute—”
“Itwasgoingtobe,”Isaygrimly.“ButJuliusrejectedtheideaonthetermsthatitwouldbetooromantic—andyes,Iknow,theironyisoccurringtomeaswespeak.”
“Hereallyshothimselfinthefootwiththatone,huh?”
“Orsavedhimself,”Itellher.“Maybehewasprotectinghimselfinadvancefromthechancesofsomeonecorneringhimwithaconfession.Maybehe’s,like,opposedtorelationshipsingeneral,andevenmoreopposedtoarelationshipwithme,specifically.”
Shecluckshertongueatme.“Where’syourconfidencedisappearedto?”
“Yourealizethat,accordingtothelawsofphysics,somethingcan’tdisappearifitneverexistedinthefirstplace,right?Mattercan’tbecreatedordestroyed—”
“Justtalktohim,Sadie.Really.What’stheworstthatcouldhappen?”
Isigh.Griptheedgeofmydesktosteadymyselfagainsttheoverwhelmingtideofpossibilities.“Everything,”Isay.“Hecouldlaughatme.Hecouldweaponizemyfeelingsagainstmeineverytestandcompetitiontocome.Hecouldmockmefortherestofmylifetime.Hecouldrecoilwithhorroranddisgust—”
“Orhecouldsurpriseyouwithhisresponse,”shesays.“Justconsiderit,okay?”
Ichewthefleshofmycheekuntilitstings.Somehow,IfeelevenmoredisorientednowthanIdidatthebeginningofthecall.“Okay.Iwill.”There’satricktowritingagoodhistoryessay.
Mostpeopleassumethatyoustartwiththecontention.Youreadthepromptandinstantlyformyourstanceonsomething,likewhetherthesansculottesintheFrenchRevolutionoughttobeconsideredamob,andthenyousearchthroughyourmemoryforevidencetobackyourselfup:quotesfromfamoushistorians,dates,statistics.ButIalwaysstartwiththeevidencefirst.IgothroughtheinformationIalreadyhave,thefactsIfindthemostcompelling,thatwillmostlikelystandouttoanexaminer.OnlyafterthatdoIpickmyargument.Otherwiseit’safutilepractice,awasteofpreciouswritingtime;itdoesn’tmatterwhatyoubelievein,orwanttobelievein,ifyou’renotsupportedbythedata.
Iknowthis.Ishouldknowthis.
YetafterIhangup,Ican’thelphopingthatAbigail’sright.Thatmaybe,miraculously,Juliuscouldfeelsomethingformeotherthanbitternessorannoyance.Andeventhoughit’snotthelogicalthingtodo,Ifindmyselfabandoningallmytried-and-testedstudytechniquesandscrabblingforevidencetoproveit.
Evidencelike:HerantheraceformewhenIfeltlikeIwasdying.Like:Hestayedbehindwithmeaftertheparty,andhe’snevershownanyparticularinterestinsweepingfloorsbefore,sotheremusthavebeenanotherreason.Like:Maxsaidsowhenhecameintothebakeryafterschool,anddidn’thisbrothersaythathe’dbeensearchingforourbakery?Like:TherewasaverybriefmomentfourandahalfweeksagowhenhegazedoveratmesotenderlyIfeltmybreathcatch.
Itprobablyisn’tsubstantialenoughtoconvinceanyexaminer,butit’senoughformetoconvincemyselfbytheendofthenight.I’mgoingtodoit,Idecide.I’mgoingtotellhim,andI’mgoingtoprayhewon’trejectmeonthespot.
???
“I’mgoingtobesick,”IinformAbigailwhenIslideintothebusseatthenextmorning.
She’ssippingadrinkthat’smorewhippedcreamthanactualliquid,herbagcrammedintothespacebetweenus,herdenimjacketdrapedoverherlaplikeapillow.Neveronetoletherselfsitindiscomfort,evenifit’sjustforaone-hourbusrideintothewoods.“Youlooklikeyoudidn’tsleepatalllastnight,”shesays,studyingmyface.
Igrimace.“Ididn’t.Iwasbusystrategizingmynextmove.”
Shealmostspitsoutherdrinkwithlaughter.“Mydarling,you’renotplanningtogotowarhere—you’rejusttellingaboyyoulikehim—”
“Keepyourvoicedown,”Ihiss,scanningthebus.Therearestillstudentsshufflingtheirwaydowntheaisle,othersstandinguptosearchfortheirfriendsorshovetheirluggageundertheseats.“Someonewillhearyou.”
“Nobodycouldpossiblyguesswhowe’retalkingabout.Like,Ibarelybelievedyouwhenyoutoldme.Andhe’snotevenhereyet,”shesayslightly.“Also,ifwe’rereallyfocusingonstrategy,Ifeellikeyoushouldkindofeaseintoit.Youknow,consideringyour?.?.?.?historyandall.Youdon’twanttostartlehimbylaunchingintoanimpassionedspeechstraightaway.”
“Huh?”I’mstillcraningmyneck,checkingeveryfacethatpasses.Ifeelphysicallynauseous,andit’sonlypartiallybecauseIskippedbreakfastaltogetherthismorning.IfeelalmostassickasIdidbeforemyschoolcaptainspeech,beforeourend?of?yearexams,even.Isthiswhatlikingsomeoneshouldbe?Becausecontrarytocommondescription,there’snothingwarmorgentleaboutitatall.Thisisaviolentintrusion,myownbodyrevoltingagainstme.Therearenobutterfliesinmystomach,onlyscorpions.
“Maybejustactfriendlyfirst.Oratleastlikeyoudon’tabsolutelyloathetheguy,”Abigailadvises.“Plus—”
“Ohmygod,he’scoming.”
Afterwastingsomuchtimethinkingabouthimsinceyesterday,it’sasurrealexperiencetoseehimjuststandingafewfeetaway.There,rightthere.Thesunstreaminginthroughthebuswindowsandhittinghisface.
ButifIlooklikeIdidn’tsleeplastnight,helookslikehehasn’tsleptinweeks.Tired,blue-graycirclesaresmudgedaroundhiseyes,andhishairisrumpledforonce,messystrandsfallingfreeoverhisforehead.Thenhecatchesmestaringandstaresback.
Thescorpionsinsidemystomachcrawluptomythroat.
“Remember:Befriendly,”Abigailhissesunderherbreath.
ThisisentirelycounterintuitivetoeverythingI’velearnedoverthepasttenyears.Asnaturalasjumpingbackward,orstickingyourhandintoaboilingpot,orrunningheadfirstintoaflamingbuilding.ButIforcethemusclesinmyfacetorelax.Thecornersofmylipstolift.Ahigh-pitched,strangledsoundescapesmymouth.
Hisbrowsfurrow.“Sorry?”
“Iwasjust—sayinghi,”Isaybrightly.“Ingreeting.Hello.”
Heshootsmeaweirdlookandwalksrightpastmewithoutanotherword.
AndI’vedecidedIwouldliketostopexisting.
“Okay,tobefair,thatcouldhavegonealotworse,”Abigailsaysoncehe’ssettledintothebackofthebus.Thedoorsslideclosed,andtheteachersdoafinalheadcountbeforewestartreversingoutoftheschoolparkinglot.“It’snotlikeyoucompletelyfumbledthebirdie.”
I’mhittingmyheadveryslowlyagainstthewindow.
“Maybestopdoingthat,”shetellsme.
“Don’tworry,I’mnotdoingithardenoughtoriskimpairingmycognitivefunctions.”
“No,I’mworriedbecauseMs.Hedgemightseeandforceustowatchthatseventy-minutevideoabouttheimportanceofself-loveagain.AndalsobecauseJuliusiscurrentlylookinginyourdirection.”
Ifreeze.Feelalltheheatinmybodyrefocusinmycheeks.“Areyousure?”
“Quite,”sheconfirmssomberly.“ButI’llhandleit.”BeforeIcanevenask,shespeaksupinaloudvoice,solouditdrownsouttherumblingengines.“It’sgreattoseethatthewindowsaresosturdy,Sadie.Thankyousomuchfortestingthatoutforme.I’mnowinclinedtobelievethatthenewsarticleIreadaboutthattwenty-year-oldwhocrashedheadfirstthroughthebuswindowandleftahuman-shapedholeintheglasswasmostlikelyfake.”
Idon’tknowwhethertoburstintotearsorlaughter.“Ishestilllooking?”Iwhisper.
“Nope.Allsafenow.”
Iheaveasighandslumpbackinmyseat.“God,Idetestthis.”
“Youstillhavethewholetrip,”shesays,poppinginanearphoneandofferingtheotheruptome.“Justwaituntilwegetthere.”
Wedon’ttalkmuchfortherestoftheride,excepttochangethemusiceveryfewsongs(ourtastesarestarklydifferent;Abigaillistenstowhatshereferstoassadmusicforhotgirls,ormusicyoucanwailto,whileIprefermusicyoucanstudyto).It’soneofthemanyreasonsIlovebeingaroundAbigail.Wecantalkonthephoneforfivehoursstraightintheevenings,stoppingonlytograbourphonechargersoraglassofwater,butwecanalsojustsittogetherandwatchthechangingscenerythroughthewindow.Soontheroadsnarrowintoasinglewindinglane,andtherisingsunglimmersthroughthetreesonbothsides.Themallsandgasstationsandbusycafésdisappear.Everythingdisappears,untilwe’reventuringdeepintothemountains,andallthecolorsaresomevariationofgoldandblueandgreen.
Andthenwe’renottheonlyonessilent,drinkingintheview.Theotherstudentsquietdowntoo.Eventheathleteshavestoppedtheircompetitionofwho-can-throw-their-empty-sports-drinks-higher-without-accidentally-hitting?a?teacher,whichispointlessanyway,becausetherearenoclearrulesorrewards.
“Wow,it’spretty,”Abigailmurmurs,andIagree.
LakeAverlorelooksexactlythewayitdoesinphotos.
Fromthehandcraftedcabinsatthebaseofthemountaintothewisteriaandlacewildflowerstothegreatelmtreesfringingthelakebank.Weroundthecorner,andthelakeitselfcomesintofullview,vastandbeautiful,theemeraldwatersoclearitglowsinthedaylight,reflectingthescatteredcloudsinthesky.Theplacefeelslikeitsownsecludedworld,aretreatinthetruesenseoftheword.It’salmostenoughtohelpmeforgetaboutJulius,abouttheemails,abouteverythingthat’shappenedthesepastcoupleofmonths.
Butthenthebusjoltstoastop,andI’myankedbacktoreality.Ormaybesomeweird,alternateversionofit.Becauseaseveryonestartsunbucklingtheirseatbeltsandreachingfortheirthings,RaySuzukistandsupfromhisseatandturnstome.“Hey,”hecalls.“Didyouchoosethisspot?”
IstraightenAbigail’searphonesandhandthembacktoher.Lookupwarily.“Yeah?”
“It’snotasbadasIexpected,”hegrumbles.
I’dthinkIhadhallucinateditifAbigailwasn’twearingasimilarexpressionofdisbelief.
“Oh.Um,I’mglad,”Isay,stillwaitingforthecatch.Maybethefollow?upsentenceis:It’sstillalotworsethanI’dhoped.Or,Iwasimaginingaliteralpitintheflamesofhelltomatchtheinsideofyoursoul.
Butitdoesn’tcome.Hejustnods,clearshisthroat,andjoinstheotherstudentscrowdeddownthebusaisle.
“Soyou’reblushingandstutteringoverJuliusGong,whileRaySuzukiisbeingsincerelyappreciativeofyou,”Abigailremarks,herbrowsraised.“Bizarre.Truly,absolutelybizarre.Nextthingyouknow,Ms.HedgeisgoingtostartadvocatingforunderagedrinkingandRosieisgoingtodeclarethatherlifelongdreamistobecomeanun.”
“Don’tbesodramatic,”Isay,laughing,butIcan’thelpfeelinglikeshehasapoint.
???
We’regivenhalfanhourtosettleintothecabins.
It’sverynearlyperfect.Theinteriorisdesignedlikesomethingfromafairytale,withvintagecouchesandstackedbookshelvesandablazingfireplace.Thelocalstaffhavelaidouttablesofhomemadesconeswithfreshwhippedcreamandstrawberryjamtowelcomeus;withinminutes,they’reallgone,notevenacrumbleftontheporcelainplates.Theteachersaregivenrawsalmonappetizersandmocktailsthatsmellsuspiciouslylikecocktails,andI’veneverseenMs.Hedgelooksohappy.Thebunkbedsarecomfortablywidetoo,thesheetsfragrantwiththescentofflowersfromoutside.
Theonlyproblemis—
“Nakedclowns,”Abigailsays,hervoiceamixtureofhorrorandpuredisgust.
Alltheothergirlsgatheraroundher,staringupatthepaintingsonthewall.Asin,paintings,plural.Becauseforwhatevercursedreason,therearemultiplepaintingsofnakedclownshungupineveryroom,rightonopendisplayforeveryonetosee.Abovethebeds,nexttothemirrors,overthedoors.Perhapsitwouldbebetteriftheyweredoneinsomesortofabstractartstyle,butthey’reunforgivablyrealistic,thetinybrushstrokescapturingeverydetail.
“Thisshouldn’tbeallowed,”GeorginaWilkinssays,shakingherhead.“That’sjust—what’stheword?Diametrical?Diagonal?”
“Diabolical,”Icorrectherautomatically,thenwince.Iknowfromexperiencethatthisisoneofmylesspopulartraits.
ButGeorginajustthrowsmeagratefullookandsays,“Right.Exactly.”Whichproveshowbadthepaintingsmustbe.
Abigaildragsahandoverherface.“Myeyesfeellikethey’rebeingphysicallyattacked.Tobemorespecific,likethey’rebeingkickedbyakangarooandthendraggedthroughcutglassandthensetonfire.”
“God,I’msorry,”Itelleveryone.“Iswearthiswasn’tincludedinanyofthephotosonthewebsitewhenwewerepickingoutlocations?.?.?.”
Andmaybeit’struewhattheysay,aboutunlikelyalliancesformingfromcommonenemies—eveniftheenemyisatwo-dimensionalclownwhoshouldbearrestedforpublicindecency—becauseRosiecomestostandnexttome.“Whatareyouapologizingfor?”sheasks,flickingherhairoverhershoulders.“It’snotasifyouputthepaintingsupthereyourself.”
Iopenmymouth.Thencloseitagain.I’msousedtotakingresponsibilityforeverything,toapologizingtoherandeveryoneelse,thatitfeelswrongnottosaysorry.
“You’resostrangesometimes,Sadie,”Rosiecontinues,thoughshedoesn’tsoundlikeshe’sbeingunkind.“Youknowmostpeoplerushtopushblameawayinsteadoftakingallofitthemselves,right?”
Iblink.Trytofindmybearingsagain.“I—Right.Well?.?.?.?itmightnotbemyfault,butIdoknowhowwecanfixthis.Temporarily,atleast.”
“Please,”Abigailsays.“Anything.”
IrummagethroughmybagandpulloutthesparejacketIpacked,thendrapeitoverthepaintingframesoitcoverstheclowncompletely.“There,”Isay.Theothersquicklyjoinin,grabbingloosedressesandoversizedsweaters,andsoonwe’rerunningfromroomtoroom,giggling,lendingoneanotherourclothestoblockeverysinglepaintingfromview.Thehysteriafizzesonmytonguelikealcohol,andwhenIturnaroundatonepoint,IcatchRosie’seye.There’snomaliceinherexpression.We’rebothdoubledover,laughingattheabsurdityofthewholesituation,andforthefirsttimeinawhile,Idon’tfeelliketheyearlevel’snumberonevillain.Idon’tfeelliketheperfectstudenteither;I’mjustoneofthem.
We’restilllaughingwhenwestumbleoutsideontothelakeshore,intothesunlight.
Thefirstactivityforthedayiscanoeing.Twocanoeshavealreadybeensetdownoverthepebbles,thegreenlakewatershimmeringbehindthem.Atanned,buffguywithbeadedbraceletsaroundhiswristsandanklesintroduceshimselftousasDavid,ButYouCanCallMeDave.Thenhedivesinrightaway,showingushowtoholdthecanoepaddleandadjustyourbodypositionwhileMs.Hedgesipshercocktail-mocktailandwatchesfromunderthetrees.
“We’llsplityouoffintotwoteams,”Davesays,rubbinghishandstogether.“Andthen,justtomakethingsinteresting,we’lldoalittlerace.Thefirstpersontotheothersideofthelakewins.Gotit?”
Mostofusnod.Abigailslapsamosquitoonherthighandmuttersintomyear,“Iwashopingwewouldn’thavetodoanyphysicalexercise.Whencanwedoaracetoseewhofallsasleepthefastest?IbetI’dwinthatwithouteven—”
“You,”Davesays,pointingather.
Abigailjerksherheadup.Smileswithoutanyshame.“Yeah?”
“Sinceyou’refeelingsochatty,youcanleadthefirstteam.And?.?.?.”Helooksaround,sizingeachofusupbeforehiseyeslandonJulius.“Youlooklikeleadermaterial.”
“Well,heisschoolcaptain,”someonevolunteers.
“Oh,isthatright?”Daveasks.
Juliusnodswithbarelyconcealedsmugness,crossinghisarmsoverhischest.
“Perfect.Youcanleadtheotherteam,then,”Davedecides.“Bothofyouchooseyourmembers.”
“Iwouldpickyou,”Abigailwhisperstome,nudgingmyribs,“butI’mgoingtobegenerousandletyoujoinhisside.”
“That’sifhepicksme,”Iwhisperback.
“Ofcoursehewill.Basedonathleticabilityalone,heshould.”
Ishakemyheadandsmileliketheideacouldn’tbefurtherfrommymind,butsecretly,humiliatingly,IamwaitingforJuliustoturntome.Toatleastconsiderme,ifnotchooseme.I’mwaitingforhimtotakehistime,tomeetmyeyes.Mystomachfluttersfromthesheeranticipation,andmyheart—myheartisbeatingunbearablyfast,thesuspenseofthemomentsodisproportionatetothestakesIwanttolaughatmyself.
AndthenIwanttoslapmyself.Becausehedoesn’thesitate,orevenglanceonceinmydirection.Instead,hewavesRosieforward.
“Ohmygod,yes,”shesays,grinningwideandmakingherwaydowntheshorelikeapageantqueen.“We’llmaketheperfectteam.”
Juliusgrinsbackather.Mynailsdigintothesoftfleshofmypalms,myhurthardeningintorage.It’snotRosieI’mangryatthough.It’shim.It’salwayshim.
Hedoesn’tchoosemenexteither.HechoosesRayandAdamandGeorgina,whogetsoutofswimminglessonseveryyearbyclaimingshe’sallergictochlorine.It’slikeIdon’tevenexisttohim.Likelastnightneverevenhappened.Ormaybeitdidn’t.MaybeI’vebeenspinningitintosomethingit’snot.
Bytheend,I’moneofthelasttwopeopleleft.Me,andthatboyinouryearlevelwhotalkstonobody.
Julius’seyesflickerbetweenus.Hisexpressionispassive,careless,whenhenodsonceattheboy.Hedoesn’tevenappearsorry.It’snotasifIwasevercertainIcouldbehisfirstchoice.ButknowingthatI’mhislastchoice—it’satwistofaknifeinthegut.
Humiliationstingsmythroat.I’mnolongerplanningtoconfesstohim;I’mplanningtochokehim.Butforthesakeofmyowndignity,Iactlikeitdoesn’tmatter.ImoveovertoAbigail’sside,myheadheldhigh,myfistsclenchedtostopthemfromshaking.
“Great.Now,whowantstoracefirst?”Daveasks.
“Iwill,”Juliusoffers,rollinguphissleeves.
Dave’ssunburnedfacesplitsintoabeam.“Andwhothinkstheycantakehiminaone?on?one—”
“I’llgo,”Isayloudly,marchingforward,notevencaringwhenthefreezinglakewatersloshesovermyshoes.“I’llbeathim.”
There’sabeatofsurprisedsilence.Daveblinksatme.“Oh!Oh,okay.Reallylovingtheconfidencehere.Now,thepaddlemightbealittleheavyforyou—”
Ipickupthepaddleeasily,tighteningmygriparoundtheroughwood.“Justteachmehowtorowthisthing.”
???
I’vealwaysbeenafastlearner.
Ittakesmeonlyafewminutestopushthecanoeintothelake,straponmylifejacket,andgetusedtosteeringwiththepaddle.ThenIstartpaddling.
Wildgeesestartleandsoarovermyhead,theirwhitewingsflappingasthecanoemakesitswaythroughthewater,foamformingfromtheendsofthepaddle.Theearthyscentoftheairfillsmynostrils,coatsmytongue.Thelakeitselfisserene,tallgrassrisingovertheoppositeshores,thesun’sreflectionripplingoutward.Icanmakeoutthetreesinthedistance,theirsmooth,palebarkgleaming,theirgolden-greenfoliageswayingwiththebreeze.
IfIwasn’tcompetingagainstJulius,Iwouldprobablyadmiretheviewmore.Letmyselfsitintheraresilenceandwatchthelightplayingoverthewater,thewiltedflowersfloatingacrossthesurface.
ButallIcanfocusonishiscanoeinmyperipheralvision.
Ileanforward,digmypaddledeeperintothewater,mymusclesburningfromtheeffort.It’sstillnotenough;he’spullingahead.IdigashardasIcan,butIapplytoomuchforceononesideandthecanoelurchesunsteadily.Coldspraysmyface,soaksthroughmyclothes.
“Slowdown,”Juliuscallsfrombesideme.Hesoundsirritated.“You’regoingtofallintothewaterlikethat.”
“Youslowdown,”Isnapathim.
Hedoesn’t.Ofcoursehedoesn’t.Heclencheshisjawandpusheshiscanoeonwardwithrenewedvigor.Withoutlookingatme,heasks,“Whatareyougettingsoangryfor?”
Ichokeoutaharshlaugh,thesoundonlyhalf-audibleoveroursplashingpaddles.“Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“I’mnotangry,”Isaycoldly.Myarmsarestartingtoweaken,andIcanfeelthewoodrubbingopentheskinonmypalms,butIignorethesting.“WhywouldI—”Asuddengustofwindtearsthroughmyhair,creatingwavesinthewater,onebiggerthanthenext.Thecanoewobblesagain,thistimemoreviolently.“—beangry?”Igriptheedgeofthecanoeforsupport,gritmyteethagainsttheemotionsfightingforroominsidemychest.“It’snotlikeweoweeachotheranything.”
Hemakesasoft,frustratednoise.“See,you’resayingthat,butyourtonestronglysuggestsotherwise.”
“Andsincewhendidmytonemattertoyou?LasttimeIchecked,youdidn’tevenwanttolookmyway.”
“Areyoukidding?I—”Hissentencedissolvesintoamuffledcurseasmycanoeslamsagainsthis,thesuddenimpactjoltingbothofusoutofourseats.“Seriously,Sadie,watchout—”
“I’mnotdoingitonpurpose,”Iinterject,pushingmyselfuprightwithahuff.“Maybeifyougavememorespace—”
“Ican’tcontrolthespeedofthis,”hesays.Ashamelesslie.Hejustdoesn’twanttorisklosingtome.
“Well,then,neithercanI,”Isay,paddlingfaster.I’mwinning,Ithink.We’remorethanhalfwaythere,theoppositeshorecloseenoughformetoseetheshineofdamponthestones,thegrasstallenoughtoreachmyknees.I’llmakeitbeforehim.Butthenmypaddlegetscaughtonsomethinginthewater.Aweed,maybe,oranet.Itrytoyankitfree,butIlosecontrol,andit’slikeeverythingunfoldsinslowmotion.Icanonlystareinhorrorasmypaddleswingsoutsideways—asJuliusattemptstoduck,butleanstoofarbackward,andcrashesintothewater,sendingagreatwaverushingtowardme—
Andmystomachdrops,gravityslippingoutfromundermybodyasmycanoeflipsupsidedown.Thewatertastesabsolutelydisgusting.
Likefishandseaweedandmud.ItpoursintomymouthwhenIgasp,choke,flounderinthecold.Mybonesfeellikestone,heavy,clumsy,andmyclothesarecementedtomyskin.It’shardtomove,impossibletobreathe.ForafewmomentsIcan’tseeanythingexceptthedarknessstretchingdown,can’tfeelanythingexceptthechillofthelakeandthesiltstickingtothebackofmyteeth—
AndthenIbreakthroughthewater,gasping,blinkinghard.Colorrushesbacktomefirst:thestarkbluesky,theaureatesunmeltingintotheclouds.Thensensationinmyfingertips.Thensound.Mypoundingheart.Thedistantyellsfromtheshore,tellingustostayputorswim,Ms.Hedge’sshrillvoicerisingovertheothers.Butwe’retoofarawayfromthemtowaitfortheirhelp.
Juliusisalreadypullinghimselfbackintohiscanoe.Waterleaksfromhishair,ontohischeeks,andImakethemostabsurdobservation:thathishairisevenmoreintenselyblackwhenit’swet.He’sbreathinghardwhenhecollapsessafelyoverthecanoeseat,soakedallthewaythrough,leavesstickingtohisshirt.Thenheturnstome,hisdarkeyesnarrowed.
Ikickhardagainstthewater,seizedbythesuddenfearthathemightnothelpmeup.Thathe’lljustwatchmestruggleandthrashlikeanutterfoolfromthecomfortofthecanoe.Iwouldn’tputitpasthim.
Hepauses.Hisexpressionisinscrutable,thesharpplanesofhisfacegivingnothingaway.Oneexcruciatingsecondpasses.Two.Three—
Heextendsahand.
Bothshameandrelieffillmylungs.Itakeit,ortryto,myfingersslippingagainsthis.Buthisgripisfirm,secure,andinonemovement,hedragsmeup,outofthewater.Theonlyproblemisthatourcombinedweightpullsmeoverthesidetoofast;Icrashgracelesslyagainsthiminsidethecanoe,hisbodypressedtotheseat,minepressedtohis.
“Sadie,”hemanages,withasmall,breathlesssound,asuppressedgroan.“Sadie—you’re—”
“Iknow,Iknow,sorry,”Isay,myfacewarmingasIstruggletorise.Myhandskeepslidingoverthewood,failingtofindpurchase.
“Won’tyouhurry—”
“Youdon’tthinkI’mtrying?”
“Ithinkyou’reawfullyclosetome—”
“Notbychoice,”Iprotestshrilly,eventhoughheisright.We’refartooclose,thespacebetweenusnonexistent.Ishouldbefreezingrightnow,buthisskinisshockinglyhot,burningunderneathmychest.
Hesqueezeshiseyesshut.Themuscleinhisjawstandsout.“Thisisyourfault—”
“Myfault?”
“Itoldyoutobemorecareful.Youdidn’thavetogothatfast.”
“Wewereracing,”Isay,bywayofself-defense.It’stheonethingthatwe’vealwaysbeenabletoagreeon,theoneprinciplewe’vealwaysstuckto:Nothingmattersasmuchaswinning.
Icanfeelthethudofhisheartbeatbeneathmewhenhedemands,“Haven’tyoubeatenmeenoughtimesalready?”
“No,”Isay,myvoicefierce.“No,it’llneverbeenough.”
Heshakeshishead.Muttersunderhisbreath,“Youmakemylifesodifficult.”
Ifinallymanagetositup.Thecoldairimmediatelyencirclesme,andIalmostmissthewarmthofhisbody.
“Aren’tyougoingtogivemeahandoverhere?”heasks,stilllyingbackintheseat,thelowerhalfofhisbodypinneddownbymyknees.“Youweretheonewhopushedmeintothelaketobeginwith.”
Iscoff.Deliberatelyplacemyhandsonmyhips.“Fortherecord,Ididn’tpushyou—”
“Youhitmewithyourpaddle—”
“Thepaddlewentrightoveryourhead—”
“OnlybecauseIducked,”heargues.
Irollmyeyes,butImirrorhismotionfromearlierandofferhimmyhand.Heshiftsintosittingposition,thendropsmyhandquickly,likeitburnshim.Staresoutinsteadatwheremycanoeisstilloverturned,bobbingoverthelakesurfacelikeadeadbody,mypaddlefloatingfartherandfartherawayfromus.Thewaterlapsagainstthesideoftheboat,castingintricatesilverpatternsoverthecedar.
“Thiswouldn’thavehappenedifwewereonthesameteam,”Isay.Imeanforittosoundlikeanangryjibe,anaccusation,butmyvoicedecidestobeatraitorandwaversviolently.
Hisgazeswivelstome.Hestudiesmyfaceforalongtime.Toolong.“You’veneverwantedtobeonmyteambefore.”
Iwringthewaterfrommyhair,twistitafewmoretimesthannecessary,justforsomethingtopreoccupymybodywith.“Iwouldhavelikedtheoption.”
Silenceswellsbetweenuslikeasolidthing.Theshoutsfromtheshorehavedieddowntoo.Icanhearonlytheripplinglake,thedropsofwatersplashingontothewood,thebirdschirpingfromfaraway.Myownvolatilebreathing.
“Whyareyoudoingthat?”Thesuddensharpnesstohistonestartlesme.
“I’mnot,”Isay,confused.“I’mnotdoinganything—”
“You’reactingniceallofasudden,”hecontinuesforcefully.“Smilingatmeonthebus.Actinglikeyouwouldratherbeonmysideforthisridiculousracethanyourownbestfriend’s.Defendingmelastnight—”Heshakeshishead.Staresdownathisownhands.
Myheartisbeatingpainfullyfast,mybreathsnagginginmythroat.He’sfoundout.Hemusthavedetectedit.HeknowsIlikehimandhe’sappalled,furious,disgusted—
“Youdon’thavetopityme,”hesaysinalowvoice,andmybraingoesblank.“ThisiswhyIdidn’twantyoutomeetmybrother,andyoushouldn’thavebeenlisteningtoourconversationtobeginwith.Youshouldn’ttakeanyofthestuffhesaysseriously,especiallythestuffaboutyou.Ireally—”Hisfingersformclosedfists.“There’snothing—nothingIresentmorethanwhenpeoplefeelsorryforme.BecauseIdon’tneedit.I’mfine.I’mperfect.”
“Ohmygod,”Isay.Inmyshock,IforgetthatI’vejustbeeninthelake,andrubmyeyeswithmywetpalms.NowI’llprobablywalkawayfromthiscursedconversationwithbothaheadacheandaneyeinfection.“Youcan’tbeserious.”
“Iam,”hetellsmewithoutlookingup.“Iwouldmuchratheryougobacktoinsultingmethantiptoeingaroundme—”
“Youwantmetoinsultyou?”Iactuallylaugh.Ilaughsoloudthegeesecirclingusoverheadsquawkwithalarmandflyhigher.“Oh,well,that’seasy.You’resoself-absorbed,JuliusGong.Youreallythinkyouknoweverything—Youactlikeyou’vegotmeallfiguredout—”
“Don’tI?”hesays,andhesoundsperfectlyconfidentinhimself,hisskewedjudgment.“You’resofixatedonbeingnice,aren’tyou?Theobedientgirlwhoneedseveryonetoloveher.”Mockerydripsfromhiseverywordlikeacidrain.“Theperfectstudentwhoneversaysnotoanything,whogoesoutofherwaytocatertoeveryone’sneeds,whowoulddanceonflamesjusttokeepeverybodyentertained.Youjusthavetobeseenasundeniablygood;youhavetodotherightthingallthetime,oratleastappearto.That’syourwholepersonality—Igetit.AllI’maskingisforyoutospareme.”
ItfeelslikeI’vefallenheadfirstintothewateragain.I’mchoking,suffocating,thecoldfloodingthroughmyblood,freezingmybonesuntilthey’resobrittletheycouldbreakwithonetouch.
Neitherofusisevenattemptingtosteerthecanoe.It’sdriftingonitsownoverthelake,directionless,thewaterandskystretchingoutwidearoundus.I’veneverfeltsosmall.
“Takeitback,”Itellhimquietly,amazedbymyself-control.WhatIreallywantistoshovehimoutoftheboat,tothrottlehimwithmybarehands.“I’mgoingtogiveyouonechancetotakeeverythingyousaidback.”
Hisjawtightens,buthedoesn’tsayanything.
“God,Julius—”Icutmyselfoff,bitternesscreepingovermytongue.There’ssomethingsopresumptuous,socondescendingaboutit,thathewouldtwistmysincerityintosomesortofcharity.ThatwhileI’vebeentryingtoseethebestinhim,he’sbeenassumingtheworstofme.“Youknowwhat?Ihateyou,”Ibreathe,becauseit’seasiertosayIhateyouthanyouhurtme.Becausebothoptionsmightshattermyheart,butatleastoneofthemleavesmyprideintact.AndmaybebecauseIsimplycravethesharp,perversepleasureofhurtinghimback.
Hisgazesnapsuptome.Somethingflashesacrosshisface,andheleansinabruptly,hiseyesfierceanddangerousandonfire.Icanfeeltheheatofhisbreathagainstmylipswhenhesays,“Ihateyoumore.”
“That’simpossible.”
Hissmileisasneer.“Ipromiseitisn’t.”
I’mshaking,Irealizedimly.Myteethclenchedwiththeeffortofrestraint,ofholdingbackfromhim,ofrefusingtoshrinkaway.Hiseyescouldcutmeopenastheydriftdownlower,lingeronmypartedmouth.Theydarken,turnwhollyblack,untilIcan’ttellthepupilsfromtheirises.
Forashamefulsecond,Ithinkhe’sgoingtograbmyfaceandkissme,thekindofkissyoufeeldowntoyourtoes,allheatandhungerandwildintentions.Andforasplitsecond,Ineedhimto,I’mdyingto,ifonlyforachancetosinkmynailsintohisskin,tofindaspotofvulnerabilitysomewhereinhisbody.
Buthestaysstill.Thelightreflectedoffthelakebleacheshisskinandsharpensthecruellinesofhisface,andrightnow,inthisverymoment,Ican’tbelieveIeverimaginedhimcapableofsoftness.Juliusiswhohe’salwaysbeen,whohewillalwaysbe:selfish,ruthless,conceited.Toexpectanythingelseofhimislikeexpectingflowerstobloomfromablade.Likewalkingintoasnake’sembrace.
“You’retheworst,”Itellhim,mylipsbareinchesfromhis,neitherofusretreating.It’storture,blisteringagony.ItfeelslikeI’mbeingburnedalive.“Youmakemesick.Youmakemesoviolentlyangrysometimes,Icould—”Iwanttocontinue,buttheburningsensationspreadstomyeyes,mynose.Iwon’tcry.Iwon’tbeweakinfrontofhim.Myfingerscurlhardintothecollarofhisshirt,tomakethesentimentclearwherewordsfailme,andIseehimswallow,therisingbumpinhisthroat.Goon,Iurgemyself.Youhavetheupperhandnow.ButallIcangetoutis,“You’resomeantome.”
It’slaughable.Pathetic.It’sanexchangebetweenchildrenontheplayground.It’snotwhatImeanttosay,notatall,butsomethingaboutitunravelsme.Myangerabandonsme,mylastremainingweaponagainsthimdropped,andIpressmylipstogethertostopthemfromtrembling.Blinkrapidlytostopthetearsfromfalling.
Hisexpressionmorphsintosomethingelseatonce.Hejerksback,hisbrowsfurrowed.Liftsahand,theaimunclear.“Sadie,”hesays.Tentative.Tender,even.“I—Ididn’tmeanto—”
“Startpaddling,”Isaystiffly.“Weshouldgoback.”
ThenIduckmyheadsohecan’tseemecry.
???
Neitherofusspeaksonthewayback.
There’snopoint;we’vealreadysaidtoomuch.Theinstantthecanoebumpsagainsttheshore,I’mjumpingoff,barelynoticingwhenthewatersplashesmylegs.
“Hadalittlefall,didwe?”Davesays,grinning,somehowoblivioustothetensionsimmeringbetweenus.“Don’tfret.Ithappensprettyoften—”
“Youbothneedtochange,”Ms.Hedgeinterrupts,lookingfarlessamused.She’sevensethercocktail-mocktaildown.“Goshowerandputonsomewarmclothes—godforbidsomeonegetspneumoniaonthistrip.Youcanmeetusbackhereafter.”
“Thanks,Ms.Hedge,”Isay,genuinelygratefulfortheopportunitytoescape.ButasIwalkpastAbigail,shecatchesmywristandpullsmeafewstepsback,outofearshotfromtheothers.
“Whathappenedoutthere?”shewhispers.“Haveyoubeencrying?Didyoutellhimyoulikehim?Whatdidhesay?”
Ialmostlaugh.“No.ItoldhimIhatehim,andhetoldmehehatesmetoo.Sothat’sthat.”
“What?”Herjawdrops.“ButIthought—Thatwasn’ttheplan—”
“Itwasaterribleplan,”Isay.“Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking.”
“Okay,wait.Wait.Just—hangon.”Sheshakesherhead.“I’mstilltryingtounderstandhowyouwentfromwantingtoconfesstohimtofightingwithhim—”
“Iguessoldhabitsdiehard.”Itrytomakeitsoundlikeajoke,likeit’salreadybehindme.Butmaybeit’strue.Maybe,bythisstage,we’vebothbeenhardwiredtohateeachother.Maybeit’safundamentalpartofourinternalcoding,andthere’snowaytoreprogramitwithoutself-destructing,settingeverythingonfire.Maybeit’sforthebestthisway.
“Areyouokay?”sheworries.“Doyouwantmetopunchhimforyou?”
“No,no,I’mokay.”Mymouthstrainsintoasmile.“Really.”
Iamokay.Completelyokay.I’mokaywhenIstompuptothecabinbathroomsandstandunderthehotsprayoftheshower,lettingtheheatmelttheicefrommybones,scrapingthemudfrommyskinwithsuchforceitleavesbehindangryrednailmarks.I’mokaywhenIslathermyhairwithtoomuchshampooandclosemyeyesagainstthewaterlikeit’spouringrain;whenIsobintothepalmofmyhand,alonewherenobodycanhearme.AndI’mdefinitelyokaywhenItowelmyselfdry,changeintoafadedknitcardiganandskirt,andheadbacktothelake.JuliusGongisdeadtome,Ivowsilently.IfIthinkabouthimagain—IfIsomuchaslookathim,thenIdeservetobepeltedwithice.
???
Ideservetobepeltedwithice.
Inmydefense,Imanagetoholdittogetherallthroughoutlunchandafterittoo.Theteacherssplitusoffintoourtwoteamsfortheafternoonactivities,whichmeansIdon’thavetoworryaboutstumblingacrosshim.We’retakentotheothersideofthelaketofishandbird-watchandcolorinillustrationsofthemountainranges.Everything’sgoingwell.
Butlater,weallgatherbackinsidethewarmairofthecabinanddimthelights,andmyself-controlrapidlydeterioratesfromthere.
Thescreenunfurls.Theprojectorflickerson.Aroundme,peoplearelyingdown,gettingcomfortableonfadedcushionsandbeanbagsandpinkwoolblankets.Someone’ssnuckinabagofgummyworms,eventhoughwe’retechnicallynotallowedsnacks,andthecandyispasseddiscreetlyfromhandtohandlikedrugs.
Abigailsavesmeapillow,andIleanbacknexttoher,droppingmyheadonhershoulder.That’swhenInoticeJuliusontheotherendoftheroom.Thesharplineofhisshoulders.Theglintofhishair.Thecoldplanesofhisprofile.He’schangedhisclothesaswell,discardedhisbutton-downshirtforadarkV?neckthatexposeshiscollarbones.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”Abigailwhispers.“Themovie’sstarting.”
“Nothing,”Isayhastily,rippingmygazeaway.Stopit,Itellmyself.Ithinkwe’veestablishedbynowthatit’sabadidea.
“It’snotscarybyyourstandards,Idon’tthink,”sheadds.Sheknowsmyincrediblylowtoleranceforbloodorgore.She,ontheotherhand,likestofallasleeptohorrorfilms.Claimsshefindsthesuspensefulmusicrelaxing.“Butifitis,youcanusemyarmtocoveryourface.Justdon’tpinchmetoohardlikeyoudidlasttime.”
Ishoveherwiththepillow.“Itoldyou,Icouldn’thelpit—”
Shepushesthepillowback.“Therewasn’tevenanyblood.Itwasjustonedudekickingthewall—”
“Aggressively,”Isupply.
Themovie’ssomekindoftragicromancedatingbackyearsago,andAbigail’sright:Itisn’tscaryatall.Ithinkthere’sadoginvolved.Andmaybeaboat.Idon’treallypaycloseattention,ifI’mbeinghonest.Asthecoloredimagesmoveoverthescreenandthesoundtrackplays,myeyesaredrawnbacktoJulius.Likeinstinct.Likealways.
It’seasiertowatchhimwhilehe’swatchingthescreen.ThoughI’mnotsurehowmuchofithe’sactuallyabsorbing;hedoesn’tlaughorgaspwhentheothersdo.Hejuststaresahead,hisexpressionblank.
Istudyhisfeaturescarefully,hungrily,likeI’mpiecingtogetherapuzzle.Ican’tpreventmyselffromdrinkinginthesightofhim.Fromhatinghimandwantinghimallatthesametime,onepointoftensionbleedingintotheotheruntilit’simpossibletoseparatethetwo.Theblueglowoftheprojectorsweepsoverthecurvesofhischeekbones,andeventhoughI’veswornagainstit,Ifeelarushoffierce,recklesslonging.Iimaginegoingtohimnow,afteralltheuglinessfromthismorning,afterhemademecry.Iimaginestrokinghishair,hischeek,hiscollarbones,thewaytheshadowsdo,thenwrappingmyhandsaroundhisthroat.
Withoutwarning,heturnshisheadafraction,hiseyescuttingtominelikethecrackofawhip.
Iflush.Lookaway.ButIcansensehisgazeonmefortherestofthemovie.
It’sthelongestmovieI’veeverseen.Dinnerisacombinationofroastedmarshmallowsandchickenkebabsandcreamypotatosalad.
ItlookssogoodthateventhoughIdon’treallyhaveanappetite,Ijoinmyclassaroundthecampfire,stackingmypaperplatewithasmuchfoodasitcanphysicallycarry.ThenIdrapemycardiganoverthelogandsitdownonit,inhalingthesweetsmokeandthescentofthelakenearby,contenttochewandstretchmylegsoutandlickthemeltedsugaroffmyfork.
Theteachersaremeanttoeatwithusoutsidetoo,butMs.Hedgeistheonlyoneofthethreewhoappears.She’sbarelysatdownwhenherfacepinches,herskinturningaconcerningshadeofgreen,andshedashesoffinthedirectionofthecabins,ahandcoveringhermouth.
“What’supwithher?”Rayasks.
“Must’vebeentherawsalmonfromearlier,”Georginasays,withthefirmauthorityofsomeonewho’ssufferedthroughfoodpoisoningmultipletimesinthepast.“Onmywayout,theotherteacherslookedliketheyweredyingtoo.”
Sympatheticmurmurstravelaroundthetightcircle,butnobodymakesamovetocheckupontheteachers.Insteadeverybodyrelaxesintheabsenceofanyadultauthorities.Theairseemstolighten,theconversationsaroundmerisinginvolume,whisperedjokesandmuffledgigglesturningintofull-bodylaughter.Itfeelslesslikeaschoolretreatandmorelikeamassiveparty—except,unliketheoneatmyhouse,Icanalmostbringmyselftoenjoyit.Toeatthemeltedmarshmallowsandwatchthesunstarttoslideitswaydownthehorizon,lendingapinkglowtothesky.
“Youknowwhatthemomentcallsfor?”Rosiespeaksup.
“Spinthebottle?”Raysaysinstantly.
Idropmyfork.No.Absolutelynot.IthinkI’lldieifIhavetokissJuliusagain,andI’lldieifIseehimkisssomeoneelse.“Howaboutscarystories,”Isuggest,withperhapsmorefakeenthusiasmthanI’veeversummonedinmylife.
Tobehonest,IexpectRosietoshootdownmyidearightawayandcallitchildish,butsheconsidersitforasecond,thennods.“Sure,”shesays,crossingherankleselegantly,asifthelogisathrone.“Doyouhaveone?”
“Oh?.?.?.?Iguess.”Istraighten,tryingtomakesomethinguponthespot.“Okay,okay,here’sone:Oncetherewasagirlcalled?.?.?.?um,Skye.Shewasverysmartandveryorganized.Shehadahabitofkeepingallherhomeworknotesandcertificatesandimportantfilesinaspecialcompartmentinsideherlocker.Thenoneday?.?.?.?shediscoveredthatherlockerwasempty.”
Thisismeanttoelicitgaspsofshockandhorror,butallIgetareblank,perplexedstares.
“Sorry,isthatmeanttobescary?”someoneasksatlast.
“Hercertificatesaremissing,”Iemphasize,frowning.“Herrecordsofachievementaregone.Shemayhavetoredoallherhomework.”
“Okay,dowehaveanynon-homework-relatedstories?”someoneelseasks.
“Ihaveaghoststory,”Juliusoffers,andallheadsswiveltohim.Helowershisvoicesoit’sjustbarelyaudibleoverthedryhissandcrackleofthecampfire.“Arealghoststory.Actually,it’ssetrightinthewoods,nottoofarfromhere.”
“Sureitis,”Imutter.
Buteveryone’salreadylisteningclosely,hangingontohiseveryword.
“Thereusedtobeahouseinthesewoods,”hebegins,soakingintheattention.“Ayoungcoupleandtheirtwochildren:aboynamedJack,andagirlnamedScarlett.Theboywashealthyandalwayshappy;everyonewhosawhimadoredhim.ButScarlettwasborn?.?.?.?strange.”Hedragsoutthewordinawhisper.“Asababy,herfatherclaimedthathereyeswouldflashred.Itwasquick,soquickitcould’vebeenconfusedforthelight,butithappenedtoomanytimesforittobeacoincidence.Heeventookhertothedoctoronce,wonderingifitwassomekindofraredisease,andthedoctorsaidtherewasnothingwrong.Nothingthattheycouldfindanyway.”
Ontheotherendofthecircle,oneofthegirlsshiversandwrapsthewoolblankettighteraroundhershoulders.
“Therewereotherthingstoo,”Juliuscontinues.“Likeshewouldberunning,andhershadowwoulddisappear.Orshewouldthrowatantrum,andwithinanhour,abirdwoulddropdeadoutsidetheiryard.Orshewouldgetintoafightwithherlittlebrother,andhe’dwakeupinthemiddleofthenightclaimingsomeonewaschokinghim.Overtime,herparentsstartedtosuspectthatshewascursed.Perhapsademonincarnate,oramonster.”
It’sasillystory.Typical.Certainlynobetterthanmine,whichisrootedinrealism.Butinthefallingdarkness,bythecrimsonlightofthefire,Ican’thelpthepinchoffearinmygut.
Juliuscatchesmyeyeacrossthecircle,andonesideofhismouthlifts,asifhecanreadmymind.“OnScarlett’sthirteenthbirthday,therewasasudden,terriblestorm.Itwasasiftheseawasfallingfromthesky.Thewholehousewasflooded.Theparentsdidn’tevenhavetimetopack;theyjustgrabbedwhattheycouldandfledintothenight.Butwhetherbyaccidentornot,theyforgotaboutScarlett.Whentheycameback,almosteverythingwasdestroyed.Thewoodwasrottedthrough,thefurnitureinpieces,thewindowsshattered.Theylookedaround,andtheycouldn’tfindanysignofScarlett.Therewasnobody.Notevenanyofheroldclothesortoys.Itwasasthoughshe’dneverexisted.”
Hepausesfordramaticeffect.Inthesameinstance,aheavywindpicksup,blowingthroughthetrees,andmorethanafewpeoplestartleandglancearoundthem.Theskyisnolongerrosepinkbutgraying,cloudsformingintheneardistance.
“Theywereratherattachedtothewoods,sotheyrebuilttheirhouseintheexactsameplace,”Juliussays.“Buteverytimeitrainedagain,theycouldhear?.?.?.?crying.Itsoundedlikeachild.LikeScarlett.Theytriedtofollowit,butitseemedtobecomingfromwithinthehouse,withintheverywalls.Ayearlater,therecameanotherstorm.Muchtamerthanthefirst.Almosteveryonesurvivedit;thewaterlevelsdidn’tevenriseabovetheknee.ExceptScarlett’sfamilywasfounddrownedinthelivingroomthenextmorning,allofthemlyingfacedown.”
“Andthen?”someonewhispers.
“That’sit,”hesayssmoothly.“Theyalldied.”
Heavysilencefollowsinthewakeofhiswords.
Then,somewhereinthedistanceadoorslams,andRayletsoutsuchahigh-pitchedshriekIbrieflywonderifachickenhasbrokenloose.
Butthespellisbroken.Everyone’stoobusylaughingatRaytolingeronthedetails.
Asthecampfireburnson,peoplesplitoffintoprivateconversations,friendshuddlingtogetheronthelog.I’mcleaningmyplatewhenIfeelaweightloweritselfnexttome.
Rosie.
Iinstantlystiffen.
“Chill,Sadie,I’mnotheretobiteyourheadoff,”shesays,seeingmyreaction.She’ssmiling,whichisveryalarming.“Ijustwantedtochat.”
“Aboutwhat?”Iask.
“I’vebeenthinkingabouttheemailyousentme,andyouknowwhat?Iwasreally,reallypissedoff.”Shebrushesherhairoverhershoulder.“Honestly,whenIfirstreadit,Iwasreadytoslapsomeone.”
Ishiftback,outofslappingdistance.
“ButIkindofdeservedit.Ididcopyyourscienceproject.”Sheexhales.“Ididn’tplanto.Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking.Or,well,Iguess?.?.?.?EveryoneknowsI’mgorgeous,right?SometimeswhenI’mwalkingpastamirror,IhavetostopforafewsecondsbecauseIcan’tbelievehowstunningIam.Like,damn.”
Iofficiallyhavenoideawherethisconversationisgoing.
“I’mproudofit,”sheadds.“Ittakesalotofworktolookthisgoodallthetime.ButIwasjust?.?.?.?curious.Whatit’sliketogetgreatgradesandhavepeoplecomplimentyouforyourintelligence.Tobeyou.”
ThisisperhapsthemostbizarrestatementI’veeverheard.EvenmoreshockingthanAbigail’spredictionaboutRosiedevotingtherestofherlifetobeinganun.
“Iwasplanningtoapologize,”shegoeson,crossingherlegs.“ExceptIfeellikewe’donlybegoingincircleswithourapologies.I’msorryIcopiedyourproject;you’resorryyouwrotethatemail.I’msorryIproceededtosnapatyouinfrontoftheyearlevel.SoIguesswhatI’mreallytryingtosayis—thankyou.Forbeingunderstanding,andforallyourhelpingeneral.”Sheletsoutalittlelaugh.“Funnilyenough,itwasn’tuntilImadeitapointtoignoreyouthatIrealizedhowoftenIturnedtoyoufornotesandstuff.Youdidn’thavetodothat,butyoudid.”
Ittakesmeaminutetorememberhowtospeak.“Um.You’re—welcome?”
Shelaughsagain.“Sowe’regood?”
“Yeah.Yes.Verygood,”Isay,stillstunned.
“I’llmissyouwhenwegraduate,youknow,”sheadds.“Ican’tbelievethiswillallbeoversoon.”
“Yeah,”Irepeatsoftly,gazingaroundthecampfire,atallthefamiliar,laughingfaces.“Ican’tbelieveiteither.”
???
“Sheactuallysaidthat?”
“Iknow,”ItellAbigailthatevening,ploppingdownonthebed.We’reluckyenoughtohavebeenassignedoneofthesmallercabinrooms,madeforonlytwopeople.Someofthegirlshavetosharewiththreeorfourothers.“Iwassocertainthatshewouldneverforgivemefortheemails,thatshe’dspendtherestofherlifehatingme.Thatthedamagewouldbeirreversible.I’veliterallybeensicktomystomachforweeks,months,thinkingaboutit,andnow?.?.?.?Thankgod.”Ireleasealaugh,shakingmyhead
Sheturnsbacktomefromthedresser,astrangelittlesmileonherlips.“Weretheemails?.?.?.?thatbad?Imean,didit?.?.?.?affectyousomuch?”
“Thatbad?”Isnort.“Theywerecatastrophic.”
“Right.”Hersmilewobbles.“Ididn’trealize—Iknewyouwereembarrassed,obviously,butyounevertalkedthatmuchaboutit.”
It’strue,Iguess.Ihaven’treallytalkedaboutitwithanyone.Notmymom,becauseIdon’twanthertoworry.NotMax,becauseIdon’tthinkhe’dunderstand.AndnotAbigail,becauseIdon’twantherpity.Butmaybeit’salsohabitbythispoint.ThesummerwhenIwaseleven,wehadflowntoChinaforalargefamilygathering,andaseveryonewastradingstoriesandlaughingandclinkingdrinksinthecrimsonglowoftherestaurant,afishbonehadgottenlodgedinmythroat.Insteadofmakingabigdealoutofitandtryingtocoughitoutinfrontofthirty-sixpeopleIwasdirectlyorindirectlyrelatedto,I’dchosentoswallowitinward,toquietlyabsorbthepainasthebonescrapeditswaydownwhileIsatthereandsmiled.Nobodycouldhaveguessedthatsomethingwaswrong.
Itwasonlyyearslater,whentheeventhadlongpassed,thatIhadeventhoughttobringitupwithmymotherasajoke.Shewashorrified.Youcouldhavechokedtodeath,she’dscoldedme.Youshould’vesaidsomething.
Butyouwerechattingwithlaolao,I’dreplied.Iwasafraidofbotheringyou.
Shehadbeensilentforalongtime.Whenshefinallybreathedout,hereyesweresosadandheavyI’dregrettedbringingitupinthefirstplace.Whyareyouthisway?shekeptasking,untilIdidn’tknowifshewasdirectingthequestionatmeorherself.Sincewhendidyoubecomethisway?
“Sadie,”Abigailsays,yankingmebacktothecabin,tothepresent.“There’ssomething?.?.?.?somethingI’vebeenkeepingtomyself.Ididn’tmeanto,Iswear—IknowIshould’vesaiditwayearlier,but?.?.?.”
Istiffen,mypulseacceleratingimmediately.“What’swrong?”
Shewringsherhands.Stepsforward,thenstopsafewfeetawayfromme.AbigailOngisnevernervous,notbeforedeliveringaclasspresentation,notbeforeadate,notbeforeanymajortest.Exceptshe’snervousrightnow,hereyesflickingtothedarkcloudsrollinginbeyondthewindow,thenbacktome.“Theemails,”shesays.That’sallshesaysatfirst.
Iblinkather,notunderstanding.
“Isentthem.”
Idon’tprocessthewords.There’safaintringinginmyears,allsounddistorted,muted.IfeellikeI’mfallingawayfrommyownbody,likethosescenesinthemovieswherethecamerazoomsoutandoutfromthepersontotheskyabovethem.
“Notonpurpose,”shesays,speakinginarush,likeshe’sscaredI’mnotgoingtogiveherthechancetocontinue.“Notallofthem.Iwasjust—IwasreadingthedraftyouwrotetoJulius,andIknewthathe’dbeenbotheringyouforages,andinthatmomentIthought?.?.?.?Idon’tknow,Iwastiredofseeingpeoplewalkalloveryou.Itwasonlyoneemail;itwasonlysupposedtobeoneemail.Butthenyouhad,like,hundredsoftabsopen,andyourlaptopwaslagging,andwhenIhitsend,nothinghappened,soIkindofjust—Ikeptclickingandtryingtosendit,andthensuddenlyallyourdraftswerebeingsentout,andIcouldn’tundoit?.?.?.”
I’mfrozeninplace,rootedinmyshock.“Wait,”Icroakout.Squeezemytemples.“Yousenttheemail?When?No,hangon?.?.?.”
It’sallcomingbacktome,thedetailssharpened,everythingdifferentunderanewlight.WhenI’drushedoutsidetheclassroomandcomebacktofindmylaptopmoved.“Ohmygod,”Isay.Partofmestillrefusestobelieveit.Waitsforhertotellmeshe’sjoking,she’smakingitup.
“Ishouldn’thavegonebehindyourback,”shewhispers,herfacepale.“Iknow.I’msorry—I’msosorry.Itakefullresponsibility.I’ll—I’llwriteanexplanationtoeverysinglepersonwhoreceivedanemailfromyou.I’lldoanything.Just?.?.?.?pleasedon’tbemadatme.”
“Idon’tgetit,”Isayslowly,evenasmyheartpoundsatbreakneckspeed,eachthudpainful.“Whydidn’tyousayanythingearlier?”
“Itriedto,Iswear.”Sheholdsupahandasifmakinganoath.“Butthereneverseemedtobeagoodtime,and,well,IwasconvincedthatIwasdoingwhatwasright,inthelongrun.Mywholelife,I’vebelievedthatIknowwhat’sbest,butwhenthethingwithLiamhappened?.?.?.?ItsortofoccurredtomethatmygutinstinctmightnotbeasreliableasIthought.”Shepauses.Swallows.Eyesonthefloor.
Andeventhroughallmyshockandfury,Istillfeelaspasmofsympathydeepbeneathmysternum.
“Plusforawhilethere,”shecontinues,“itseemedlikeeverythingwouldworkoutonitsown.Peoplestartedtreatingyoudifferently,pushingyouaroundless.AndyouandJuliushadgrowncloser—”
Thesoundofhisnamestrikesmelikeawhip.“He’sexactlywhythoseemailsshouldhaveneverbeensent.”
I’mshakingnow.ItfeelslikeI’mbeingshaken,likethere’ssomeinvisible,overpoweringforcegrabbingholdofmybonesandnervesandmusclesandjoltingeverythingoutofplace.Myteethchatter;myfingerstremble.AllthisissounnaturalIdon’tknowwhattodo,whethertostandorsitdownormarchoutoftheroomorscreammythroathoarse.AbigailandIneverfight.She’stoochillabouteverything,andI’mtooafraidofconfrontation.Themostheatedargumentwe’veeverhadbeforetodaywasoverwhetherpotatoesshouldqualifyasvegetables.
“Ifhe’dneverreadthem,wewouldn’thavebeenforcedtodoallthoseridiculoustasksandspendsomuchtimetogether,andIwouldn’thavehadtothrowthatparty,andIwouldn’thavehadthechancetolikehim.AndnowIdo,godhelpme,andit—itreally—itfeelslike—”Ifumblearoundfortherightwords,themostsophisticatedwaytoexpresstheacheinmychest.“Itfeelslikeshit.”
“Okay,whoa.”Forasecond,Abigailseemstoforgetwe’refighting.Hermouthfallswideopen.“Ithoughtyouhad,like,afirmno?swearingpolicy—”
“It’shorrible,”Icontinuefuriously.“It’srevoltinghowmuchIcareabouthim.Evennow.Ishouldn’twantthis.Ishouldn’twanthim.”
Herjawdropsfarther,hergazecatchingonsomethingbehindme.“Um,Sadie—”
ButI’mtooangrytostop.“Outofallthepeopleinthisschool,itsomehowhastobetheonepersonwhocalledmeupjusttotauntmewhenIhadafeverandmissedoutonpractice—”
“Sadie,”Abigailsaysagain,louder.
“It’slikeI’vebeenpoisoned,”Igoon,mypalmsitching.“It’slikeasickness,andsomehow,thecauseandcureofitishim.Ihateitsomuch,butIcan’tevencontrolmyownbrain—”
“Sadie.”
Ifreeze.Becausethistime,it’snotcomingfromAbigail.It’salow,malevoice,comingfrombehindme.
MywholelifeseemstodisintegratebeforemyeyesasIturnaroundonmyheel,andI’mprayingit’snothim,itcan’tbehim,pleaseletitbeanybodybutJulius—
“Sorrytointerrupt,”hesays.He’sholdingoutmycardiganinthedoorway,andIcan’treadanyoftheemotionsonhisfaceashestaresatme.“Youleftthisbehindatthecampfire?.?.?.”
It’ssomewhatdifficulttohearhimoverthesoundofmydignitysplinteringintoathousandpieces.Iconsiderdismissingthewholethingasajoke,ormaybeareenactmentfromaverydramaticplayaboutmodernfeminism,butIcantellfromhisexpression,fromtheterrible,swelteringsilenceintheroom,thatthedamagehasalreadybeendone.
There’snotakingitbacknow.
“Thankyou,”Imanagetosay,whichisamiracleinandofitself.IkeepmyeyesavertedasIgrabthecardiganfromhim,myskinsearinghot.
“Notatall,”hesayswithequalpoliteness.
Thisisprobablythemostpolitewe’veeverbeenaroundeachother.
Andthen—nobodyspeaks.
I’mstaringatafissureinthewall,andinmyperipheralvision,Abigailisstaringatthecloudsoutsidethewindow,andJuliusisstillstaringatthesideofmyface.It’sexcruciating.
“Well,thanksalotforvisiting,”ItellthespotunderJulius’sshoeswhenIcan’tstanditanymore.“Thishasbeenveryfun.Ifthatwasall,pleasefeelfreetogowhenever—”
“No,”hesaysquickly.
Myheadjerksupagainstmywill.ThisiswhatImeanaboutthesickness,becauseonlysomebodywhoisutterlyunwellwouldhearthatonewordandwonder:No,what?No,there’smore?No,hedoesn’twishtoleave?No,hedoesn’tlikeme?
Butbeforehecanelaborate,adeafeningclapofthunderstartlesallofus,solouditmakesthefloortremble.Iglanceoutsidejustintimetowatchtheskiessplitopen,waterpouringdowntofloodtheearth.It’salmostbreathtakingtowitnesstheraincomein,thedropletsshatteringthelake’ssurfacelikehundredsoftinyknives.Withinseconds,thepavementhasdarkenedtoblack,thewildgrasssubmergedunderrapidlygrowingpuddles.
Then,frominsideacabin,someonestartsyelling.Rayistrembling.
Whimpering,really.He’sstandinginthemiddleofthehallinhispolka-dotpajamasandclutchinghisarm,andhelookssoalarmed,sohorrified,thatmyfirstreactionistosearchforblood.Hisclothesaredampandplasteredtohisskin,butthere’snotraceofred.It’sonlywater.
“Theroofisleaking,”hegasps.“IwasdoingmyskincareroutineandIfeltasplashoffreezingwateronmyarm.”
“Sincewhendidyouhaveaskincareroutine?”JonathanSokgrumblesbehindme.
Unsurprisingly,hisscreamshavedrawneveryoneoutoftheirrooms;onequickglancearoundandit’sclearhalfmyclassmatesareintheirpajamastoo.Georginaevenappearstohavecomerunningstraightoutoftheshower.Therearestillshampoobubblesinherhair.
Raynarrowshiseyes.“What’swrongwithit?You’rejustjealousyoudon’thavebeautiful,shinyskinlikeme.”
“Hey,”Jonathanprotests.“Myskinisalreadyveryshiny—”
“Yeah,well—”
ButRay’svoiceisdrownedoutbytheviolentrushofrainoutside.Withinseconds,waterstartstricklingthroughtheceilingandpoolingoverthefloors.
“See?”Rayyelps,lurchingback.“It’severywhere.”
“Ohperfect!It’sexactlywhatIneed.”Georginastepsforwarduntilhershampooedhairispositionedrightunderneathoneoftheleaks.“Thisiswhatyoucallbeingresourceful”
Ihavetoadmireheroutlookonlife.
“Whatdowedo?”someoneasks.
Morevoiceschimein,allofthemspeakingoveroneanother,overthepouringrain:
“Myclothesaregoingtobewet.Thisblazerisdry-cleanonly—”
“Thewater’sfreezing—”
“Ican’tsleeplikethis—”
“Someonetakemehomerightnow—”
“Wherearetheteacherswhenyouneedthem?”
“Iheardtheyallhavefoodpoisoning—”
“Thisisexactlyhowallhorrormoviesstart—”
There’sanachebuildinginthebackofmyskull.Iwanttojointhem.Iwanttoyellandcomplainandwaitforsomeoneelsetocleanupthemess.Butthewaterisspreadingrapidly,andIknowtherotwillsetinifwedon’tdosomethingfast.Therewasastormjustlikethisafewyearsago,andourbakerybarelysurvivedit.
Iforcemyselftoclenchmyfingersandunfurlthemagain.Deepbreaths.
One.
Two.
Three.
“SomeonegogetDave,”Ispeakup,myvoiceringingoutintheroom.Everyonefallsquiet.“Doesanyoneknowwhereheis?”
“I,uh,thinkhe’sasleep,”someoneoffers.“PrettysureIheardhimsnoringonmywayoverhere.”
“Gowakehimup,”Iinstruct.“Thereshouldbemopsinthecleaningcabinet,butonlyhe’llhavethekeys.Inthemeantime,everyonegograbbucketsorcontainersfromthekitchenoranythingyoucanfindtocollectthewater—”
Anaudiblesnortcutsthroughmysentence.
Iswivelaroundandmystomachturns.Dannyishoveringinthebackcorner,hisarmscrossedoverhischest.Icanseethoseawfulwordsagain,asifwritteninburningred:SadieWenisabitch.“Seriously?”heasks.“Evenwhenweleavetheschool,you’rebossingusaround?”
Icecrawlsthroughmyveins.“I’mnot—”
“What,justbecauseyou’rethecaptain?Orbecauseyou’reagoodstudentorwhatever?”Herollshiseyes.“Youthinkyou’resoimportant,buthonestly,we’reallsickofyou,Sadie.Wedon’thavetodoanythingyousay.”
Icanhearmyheartpounding,detonatinginsidemychest.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifeveryoneinthisroomcouldhearittoo.
“Thisreally,reallyisn’tthetime,”Imanage.“Iknowyouhateme,andthat’sfine,butthecabinisliterallyleakingaswespeak—”
“Don’tchangethetopic.”
“You’retheonechangingthetopic,”Isay,incredulous.“I’mjustsayingthatthere’samuchmorepressingissueathand.Ifyouhaveasolution,I’malwayshappytohearit,butifnot,youcouldatleastcooperate—”
“Stopactinglikeyou’rebetterthanus,”Dannysnaps.“You’rethetypetowriteshadyemailsaboutpeoplebehindtheirbacks.”
“Andyou’rethetypetowriteSadieWenisabitchonabikeshed,”Ishootback.
There’sacollective,sharpinhalationfromthecrowd.“Damn,”somebodymutters.
Ican’tevenbelievethewordscomingoutofmyownmouth,butitfeelsgood.I’msotiredofplayingnice,ofsmilingaspeoplewalkoverme.WhatI’mrealizingisthatifyou’requietaboutthethingsthathurtyou,peopleareonlygoingtomistakeyourtoleranceforpermission.Andthey’regoingtohurtyouagainandagain.“Yeah,Iknowitwasyou,”Isaycoldly,foldingmyarmsacrossmychest.
Dannystaresatme.“Youknow?SoyouweretheonewhosentJuliustopunchme?”
Thewholeroomscreechestoastop.Theworldfreezesonitsaxis.
Nowit’smyturntostare.“Juliuspunchedyou?”
“Juliuspunchedhim?”someoneelsewhispersinthebackground.“ButIthoughtheandSadiehatedeachother.”
“Buttheykissedeachother,”someonesays.“Atthatparty,remember?”
“Wait,JuliusandSadiekissedeachother?”someoneasks.“WhyamIsobehindonthegossip?HowdidImissthis?”
“Yeah,well,seeingasshesenthimabunchofemails—”
“Technically,Abigailsentit.”
“Abigailsentit?Sadie’sbestfriend,Abigail?”
“Sorry,Iwaswalkingpasttheirdormroomandkindofoverheardabitoftheirconversation—IleftjustasJuliusshoweduptoherroomthough.SoI’mguessinghelikesher.”
“Whoseroom?”
“Abigail’sroom.”
“Wait,JuliuslikesAbigail?”
“No,JuliuslikesSadie.Theyjustsharethesameroom.”
“HimandSadie?”
“No—Ohmygod,thisiswhyyou’resobehindongossip.”
I’mbreathingagainsttheknotinmychestandscanningtheroom,butIcan’tfindJuliusanywhere.IhavenoideawhereheisorwhatthismeansorwhyI’mdoingexactlywhatI’daccusedDannyofdoingearlier:forgettingtheissueathand.It’ssobizarrehowourbrainswork,howourprioritiesareorganizedbyemotionsinsteadofactualsignificance.Thiscabincouldbefloodedsoonandstillwe’dbestandingaroundgossiping,toofixatedonourownpettygrievancesandgrudgesandcrushestonoticetheskyfalling.
“Just.Stop,”Isaytonobodyinparticular.“Stop.Ifyoudisagreewithme,Ican’tforceyoutodomuch.Butifyoudoagree,thenplease,listentome.”
Idon’texpectanything.
Foralongtime,itseemsthatI’mrightnotto.Nothinghappens.Nobodymoves.
ButthenRosienodsandflashesmeherbestsmile.“Okay,Igotyou.Bucketscomingrightup.”It’slikemagic.Forthefirsttime,IthinkItrulyunderstandtheterminfluencer.Becausewithafewsimplewords,everybodyhasbeeninfluenced.Herfriendsleapintoactionrightaway,andsomeonewhipsouttapetostopthesmallerleaks.Thewaterhasalreadyprogressedthroughmostoftheroom,butwemanagetostopitfromflowingintothecorridor.
JustwhenIthinktheworstofitisover,thebulbabovemesuddenlyflickers.There’saloudbuzzingsound,likeaninsectcaughtinatrap.
Andthepowergoesout.
???
Thecorridorispitch-black.
Ifumblemywayalonethroughthedarkness,awayfromtheothers,feelingthehard,coolplasterofthewallsforsupport.Outside,therainispoundingharderthanever.Waterslamsagainsttheroofandchurnsthroughtheoldpipes.Thewindshrieksthroughthetrees,anditsoundseerilylikethewailofachild.
Thebareskinonmyarmsturnsintogooseflesh.I’msharplyawareofeveryhissthroughthecracksinthewindow,everytrembleinthefloorboards.Iswallow,rubmyhandstogethertowarmthem,butthewindpicksupagain,louder.Thebackofmyneckprickles.
Stopit,Icommandmyself,cursingJuliusfortellingthathorriblestory.It’scompletelymadeup.Hejustenjoysscaringpeople.
Itakeanothercarefulstepforward—
Andacoldhandwrapsaroundmywrist.
Iletoutahoarseshriek.Allrationalthoughtabandonsme.Myfight?or?flightinstinctskickin,andbecausethere’snowheretorun,Icanonlyfight.Ijerkback,squirmandpunchandkickoutlikeawild,corneredanimal.Ohmygod,Ithinkhystericallyasmyfistconnectswithsomethinghard.I’mabouttobemurderedbyaghostgirlinacabininthemiddleofnowhere.Theschoolisn’tevengoingtotakeresponsibilitybecausetheymadeussignthatform—
“Sadie.Stopit—ow,stop—”
Itdoesn’tsoundlikeavengeance-seekingghostgirl.Thefamiliarvoiceregistersabeattoolate.Julius.Mybodydoesn’tunderstandeventhoughmyminddoes;I’mstillthrashing,swingingmyfistsaround.Thenthelongfingersaroundmywristtighten.Hegrabsmyotherwrist.Locksbothofthemtogetherwithonehand,pinsthemtothewallbehindme,highabovemyhead.
“Hold.Still.”
Igostill,butmyheartcontinueshammeringsohardIcanhearthebloodrushingthroughmyveins.Formorereasonsthanone.BecausesoonmyeyeshaveadjustedenoughtomakeoutJulius’sface,bareinchesfrommine.He’sbreathinghard,themusclesinhisarmstensedfromholdingmeinplace.Onestepcloserandourlipswouldtouch.
Everythingfloodsthroughmybrainatonce.Thelookonhisfacewhenhestoodinmydoorway.Theideathathe’dpunchedDannyforme.ThefactthatheheardmestateveryclearlythatIlikehimsomuchitfeelslikeasickness—
Shutup,Itellmybrain.
“Whydidyouhavetosneakuponme?”Idon’tknowwhyI’mwhispering.“IthoughtyouwereScar—”Istopmyself,buthe’salreadyheard.
“Scarlett?”Hissmileissharpinthedarkness,likethegleamofaknife.“I’mflatteredyoufoundmystorytellingskillssoconvincing.Ifyou’reafraid,youcantellme.”
“I’mnot.”Iam.Scaredbreathless.Terrified.ButIcanhardlyadmitthatit’shimI’mscaredofnow.Beingalonewithhim.Beinginthisposition.Itrytowrigglefree,buthisgripdoesn’tloosen.
“Promisemeyouwon’thitmeagain,”hesays.
“Julius—ohmygod,justletme—”
“Promise,”heinsists,hisvoicepressedclosetomyear,theheatofhisbreathfanningmyskin.Goosebumpsspreadovermybody.
Imanageanod,andhereleasesmeatoncebutdoesn’tstepback.
“Iwantedtotalktoyou,”hesays.
Mypulseskips.Hope.Foolish,irrationalhopetakesrootinsideme.ButIwipemyvoicecleanofit,becausetherearecountlessdirectionsthisconversationcouldgo.Hecouldbeheretotalktomeaboutthemathtestnextweek.Aboutweatherpatterns.AbouthowprettyRosieis.Abouthowthey’verunoutofbuckets.Ifit’snotwhatIsodesperatelywantittobe,atleastIcansavemyselftheembarrassmentofanticipatinganything.“Why?”
Hehuffsoutalaugh.“You’retoosmarttoactthisslow.Youknowwhy.Webothdo.”
“What,areyougoingtoaccusemeofpityingyou?Ofbeingtoonice?”Iask.It’sachallenge.Thisiswhatwedo,Irealize.Wetalkincircles.Wegiveeachotherriddles,confoundingclues,halfanswers.Everythingandanythingbutthetruth.
“No—No,I’msorryforthat,”hesaysquickly.Swallows.He’sneversoundedsonervous,sounsureofhimself,andIfindmyangerbleedingoutofme.“Ididn’tmeantosaythosethings.Ishouldn’thaveassumed?.?.?.?Therewereonlytwopossibleexplanationsforwhyyouwereactingthewayyouwere,andtheotherseemedtoounlikely.AndIwas—scared.”
“Scared?”Thelastofmyfrustrationvanisheslikesmokeinabreeze.It’salmostfunny;nobodyelseinfuriatesmelikehedoes,butnobodyelsemakesitthisdifficulttostaymad.“Ofwhat?”
“Losing,”hewhispers.
Istare.
“Youhavetounderstand?.?.?.?Ifyouknewtheeffectyouhadonme,howoftenIthinkaboutyou,thethingsIwoulddoforyou?.?.?.?Iwouldn’tstandachanceagainstyoueveragain.Youwouldhavetakeneverythingfromme,”hegoesoninarush,likethewordsareburninghimfromwithin,likehehastogetitoutbeforethepainbecomesoverwhelming.“Notjustadebatingchampionshiporsomepointsforatestorafancyawardoraspotinacompetition—butmywholeheart.Mypride.God,mysanity.Itwouldbeallover.Youwouldannihilateme.”
Ikeepstaring.I’mafraidtosomuchasblink,tobreathe,afraidit’llshatterwhateverwildfantasyorluciddreamthisis.Hecan’tpossiblybesayingthesethingstome.Aboutme.
“Imean,nothinghasevenreallyhappenedbetweenus,”hesayshoarsely,“andalreadyit’shardformetoconcentratewheneveryou’rearound.Mybrotherwasright,inasense,aboutyoubeingadistraction,exceptyou’resomuchmorethanthat.Ican’tpretendtocareaboutthethingsthatonceinterestedme.Ican’tfallasleep.Iplaythrougheverylookyou’veevercastinmydirection.Ireadthroughyouremailsoverandoveruntilthey’recarvedintomymemory.Youdidthistome,”hesays,andthere’sarough,bitteredgetohisvoicenow,nearlyanaccusation.
Mykneesbuckle.It’stoomuchtoabsorb.Ifeelmyselfslidedownagainstthewall,sinkontothefloor.
“Youhadtowritethoseawfulemails,”hecontinues,loweringhimselfdownnexttome.Excepthe’skneeling,andhe’sstilltooclose.I’mconvincedhecanhearmyheartthrumming.“Youhadtokissme,thenkickme,thenfillmyheadwithyourvoice.Youmadeitclear—soterriblyclear—howmuchyouhateme.ThatI’mthelastpersonintheworldyouwouldeverconsider.ButIkeptlookingforsignsthatwouldsuggestotherwise.Ikeptwonderingifitwasstillpossible.BecauseI’mwillingtoloseeverything,”hesays,hiseyesblackerthanthesurroundingdarkness,thantheskyoutside,“solongasIdon’tloseyou.”
I’mstunned.
Itcan’tbeafantasy—I’mcertainofthatnow.Myownimaginationcouldn’tconjuresomethinglikethis.
“Ofcourse,ifyou?.?.?.?ifyoudon’twantto,”hesaysintothesilence,slidinghisgazeawayfromme,“Icanacceptthat.Iwon’tbringitupagain.IknowI’mnot?.?.?.?IknowwhatI’mlike.ThatI’minfuriating.Andselfish.Andcruel.IknowI’mnotperfectthewaymybrotheris,andImanagetodisappointmyparentseverytime.It’sokayifyoudon’tchooseme,really—Ineverexpectedtobethefirstchoice.Iwouldn’tblameyou—”
“Idochooseyou.”
Hedoesn’tseemtohearmeatfirst.He’sstilltalking,ramblingreally,thewordsflowingoutlikerainwater.“Ican’talwayssayprettythings,andsometimesIteaseyouwhenreallyIjustwantyoutolookmyway,and—Wait.”Hestops.Evenhisbreathfreezesinhisthroat.“What?.?.?.?didyoujustsay?Sayitagain.”
“Ichooseyou,”Isayquietly,gladfortheshadowsconcealingmyflushedcheeks.Forthesupportofthewallbehindme.“You’llalwaysbemyfirstchoice,JuliusGong.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Hiseyeswiden,andheleansin,lipsparted,hisfingerstremblinglikemothwingsovermycheeks.It’sclearwhathewants,andIalmostlethim.ButI’mnotgoingtomakeitthateasy.
Itwistmyheadaway.“Irecallyousayingyouwouldratherdiethankissmeagain.”
Heletsoutasoft,half-stifledgroan,andthesoundshootsstraightthroughmybloodstream.Makesmypulsequicken.“God,youreallyknowhowtoholdagrudge.”
“They’reyourwords,notmine,”Itellhim,refusingtosway.
“You’rekillingmenow,”hemurmursagainstmyneck.Hislipsgrazemyskin,andhisotherhandslidesup,tanglesinmyhair,hisnailslightlyscrapingmyscalp.Despitemyself,Ifeelmyresolvebuckle.“Isn’tthatenough?”
“No.”Itrytoignoreit.Theheatinmyveins.Thecrispscentofhim,peppermintandrain.ForonceIhaveallthepower,andI’dbeafooltoletitgowithoutputtingupagoodfight—nomatterhowbadlyIwanthimtojustkissme.
“Fine,then.”Hisbreathwarmstheshellofmyear.Ticklesmycheek.“Please.”
Icanfeelmyheartpounding.“What?”
“Please,Sadie.I’mbegging.”
Atriumphantgrinsplitsovermyface.“Allright.Isuppose,inthatcase—”
Hedoesn’tevengivemeachancetofinishmysentence.Hismouthisonmineinaninstant,desperate,urgent.AndIcavein.Ihatesurrendering,butmaybeit’sdifferentwhenyou’rebothsurrenderingtothesamething,becausethisdoesn’tfeelawful.Theopposite,actually.Mybrainisbuzzing,butallmythoughtsarefloating,nonsensicalfragmentsashedeepensthekiss,wrapsahandaroundmywaist,forcesmefartherbackuntilmyspineispressedflattothewall.Thoughtslike:
Ifyoutoldmethiswouldhappenayearago,myheadwouldexplode—
Isweartogodifanybodyhearsus—
Maybetheemailsweren’tsuchadisasterafterall—
Hislipsaresosoft—
Hishands—
Julius—
Julius.
“Julius,”Igasp.
Ifeelhimsmileagainstmylips.Hisvoiceisrawsilk.“Yes?”
“N?nothing.Ijust—”It’shardtofocus.Isqueezemyeyesshut.“Itjustdoesn’tfeelreal.”
Heshiftsback,andthesuddenabsencealmostfeelslikephysicalpain—untilhekissesthecurveofmyneck.Murmurs,“Iknow.EvenwhenIwasimaginingit—”
“Youimaginedthis?”
Hepauses,whichfeelslikeunfairpunishment.Thenhebringshislipsfirmlyuptomineagain.“Doyoualwayspaysuchcloseattentiontoeverythingpeoplesay?”hedemandsbetweenshort,unevenbreaths.
“No.Onlywhatyousay.”
Asharpintakeofair.“Youhavetostopdoingthat,Sadie.”Hishandtightensaroundmywaist.“Iwon’tsurviveit.”
I’mnotsurehowI’llsurvivethis,thisoverwhelmingjumbleofsensation,thewantblazingthroughmybodylikewildfire,theneedformoreoverridingallimpulsecontrol—
Hekissesmeharder,andIcanbarelygetoutmynextwords.“Wait—Julius,wait—”
Withwhatseemslikeimmensedifficulty,hepullsawaybyjustaninch,hiseyesblackandheavylidded.Helooksnearlyintoxicated,delirious.Itouchthebaseofhisneck,feelthepulsestrikinghisveins.Thewayitpicksupbeneathmyfingertips.“Whatisit?”
“Whatifwe’rebadatthis?”Iaskinasmallvoice.
Inresponse,heonlymovesclosetome,wonderfully,terrifyinglyclose,hismouthtravelingovermyjaw,andeverythingisspinning,spinningoutofcontrol,myheartbeatracingaheadofme.Ialmostforgethowtospeak.Howtobreathe.“Doesthisfeelbadtoyou?”
“No,Idon’tmean—”Itiltmyheadbackwithoutthinking.“Imean,youandmeWe’vehatedeachotherfortenyears,madeeachother’slivesdifficult—howdoyouknow—”Iwillmyselftostayfocusedashebrushesathumbovermylowerlip.“Whatifwe’rebadat—likingeachother?Whatifwedon’tknowhowtobe—civil—ornice—”
“I’mnotplanningonbeingparticularlynice,”hewhispers.“AndIdon’texpectyoutobeeither.”
“But—”
“It’sus,Sadie,”hesays,likethat’sanswerenough.“Whenhavewebeenbadatanything?”
Hehasapoint.Averygoodone.Andineithercase,Idon’thavethestrengthtoargueanyfurther,becausehe’skissingmeagain,andit’severything.It’ssosatisfyinglyperfect.It’sasifI’vebeensuffocatinginsilencefordays,months,years,andnowIcanfinallyinhale.Nothinghasevermadeasmuchsenseashishandsonmywaist,hishearthammeringagainstmyribcage,theinvoluntarysoundhemakeswhenIadjustmyposture,slidemyhandfartherdownhisnecktothehollowofhiscollarbones.Hesaysmyname,whispersitlikeit’ssacred.AndjustwhenI’mwonderinghowwecouldeverstopthis,howIcouldeverdoanythingexceptlistentohissharpintakesofbreath,lethimkissmeuntilmyheadgoesfuzzy—
Thelightscomebackon.
Iblink,half-blinded,andjerkawayfromhim.Ittakesasecondbeforemyeyesstopwateringandmyvisionclears.AnimmediateflushracesupmyneckwhenIseeJulius.Hislipsareswollen,hisblackhairrumpledfromwhereIranmyfingersthroughit.
Itfeelslikethatsurrealmomentinthecinemas,whenthecreditsstartrollingandthedoorsopenandthestrangersaroundyourisefromtheirseats,gatheringtheirpopcornbucketsandswitchingontheirphones.Andpartofyouisstillreeling,stillimmersedinanotherworld,yourheartcaughtinyourthroat,strugglingtotellwhichpartisreallife.
ThenIfindJuliuswatchingmenervously.Likehe’swaitingformetotellhim.Totakeitallback,nowthatthecoverofdarknessisgoneandIcanseehimclearlyforthefirsttime.
Myheartthrobs.
Iwanthimtoknowhelooksmorebeautifulthaneverinthelight,upclose.Iwanttokisshimagain,untilallhisdoubtsdissipatetonothing.Iwanttotakeawayeverythingthat’severhurthim.Butfornow,Isimplysmileathim.Holdoutmyhand.“Comeon.Let’sseehowbadthedamageis.”It’salreadymidnightwhenItrudgebacktomyroom.
Abigailiswaitingforme.She’spracticallyinthesameposition,inthesamespotaswhenIlefther,andI’mstruckbyanoverwhelmingsenseofdéjàvu.It’sasiftimehasstopped,yetsomuchhashappened.IcanstillfeeltheghostofJulius’shandsaroundmine.
“Areyou?.?.?.?stillmadatme?”sheasks.
Isitdownandpatforhertositaswell.AmImad?Isearchmyselfforanyremnantsofanger,butthere’snothing.Idon’twanttoarguewithher.Ijustwanttobearoundmybestfriend.
“Thisiswhatmymomalwaysdoeswhenshe’sabouttolectureme,”shemumbles
“I’mnotgoingtolectureyou,”Isay.“Ionlyhaveafewquestions.”
Hereyeswideninhorror.“That’salsoexactlywhatshesays.”
“Imeanit.I’mgenuinelycurious?.?.?.?Whydidyoudoit?”Iask.It’stheonethingIcan’tletgoof,can’tfullywrapmymindaround.“Whatwasgoingthroughyourhead?”
Shehugsherkneestoherchest.Ican’tbesurewhatI’mwaitingforhertosay,butit’scertainlynot:“YouknowhowIusedtopourboilingwaterintoplasticbottlesbeforeyoustoppedmeandtoldmeitcouldreleasedangerouschemicalstuff?”
“Uh,yeah,”Ireply.
“OrhowIoncealmosttouchedmercury,thinkingitwasjustafunny-lookingformofsilver?”
“Yes.”
“OrthattimeIconvincedmyselfIcouldwriteafive-thousand-wordessayduringourlunchbreak?”
Ishudderjustrecallingit.Ihadnearlybrokenoutintostresshivesforher.“Definitely.”
“Yeah,well,I’veneverreallybeensmart-smartorparticularlytalented.I’vealwaysknownthat.Ican’tevenimaginewhatit’sliketocomeinfirstinaraceorbepraisedbyteachers.MykindergartenteacherliterallycalledmyparentstotheschooltotellthemIwasn’tmakingasmuchprogressaseveryoneelse.”Sheletsoutaquietlaugh.“Andguesswhatmyparentsdid?Theycalledtheteachernarrow-mindedandjudgmentalandstormedoutoftheoffice,andthentheypickedmeupearlyandtookmetogetstrawberryicecream.Theynevermademefeelinsecure.ButtherearetimeswhenIstillwanttofeel?.?.?.?useful.Needed,thewayeveryoneneedsyou.AndImostlygetthatfeelingwhenI’mgivingadvicetopeopleorhelpingthemworkoutthethingsgoingonintheirlives.Doesthatmakeevenalittlebitofsense?”
“Kindof,”Isay.
Abigailrestsherchinontopofherknees,herplatinumhairfallingaroundher.“SoI’mbeingtotallyhonestwhenIsaythatIwantedtohelpyou,andIthoughtIwashelpingyou.Ididn’tmeantogosofar.Iwon’tevermeddleagain,Ipromise,”shesays.“ButI’llalsounderstandifyou’restillangryandwanttodropmeorviolentlysmashacakeinmyface—”
“Iassureyou,I’veneveroncebeentemptedtosmashacakeinsomebody’sface,”Isnort.“It’satremendouswasteoffood.”
Shepauses,afaint,tentativesmiletouchingherlips.
“AndIassureyouthatI’mnotgoingtodropyou,”Itellher,givingheralightshove.“EvenifIweremadatyou,youcanbemadatsomeoneandstilllovethem.”
“Youmeanit?We’restill—We’recool?”
Inod.Raisemyeyebrows.“WhoelseamIsupposedtotalktowhenI’vejustkissedsomeoneinthecorridorduringarainstorm?”
Iwatchtheunderstandingsinkin.Herjawunhinges.Hereyeslightup.Shegrabsmyhand,squeezinghard.“Youdon’tmean?.?.?.?Youand—”
Icanonlynodagain,unabletohelpthegrinspreadingovermyface.
“Holyshit,”sheyelps,andallthetensionbetweenusthawsasshespringsupfullyonthebed,andit’slikeeverysleepoverwe’veeverhad,gigglingintoourpillowsandwhisperingwiththelightsout.“Okay,youhavetotellmeeverything.Don’tspareanydetails—actually,no,youcansparecertaindetails,but,like,wasitgood?Washegood?Areyoutogethernow?”
I’mlaughingsohardmystomachhurts,andeventhoughIknowwe’llbothbeexhaustedtomorrow,westayuptalkinguntilfourinthemorning,andwhenIfinallydofallasleep,IfeellighterthanIhaveinyears.
???
“Howwasyourschooltrip?”Momasksfrombehindthebakerycounter.IhadbracedmyselfforamesswhenIfirstwalkedin,imaginingburntbreadandinvalidreceiptsandspilledjamandathousandotherminidisasterstosortthroughaftermytimeaway.Buteverythingisinperfectorder.TheSORRY,WEARECLOSEDsignhasalreadybeenhunguponthefrontdoor,andmostoftheshelveshavebeencleared.
Isetmybagdownonthespotlessfloor,thenseatmyselfatanemptytable.Myarmsarestillsorefromthecampactivities,andmyshirtisallwrinkled,andmyleftshoeisdampfromwhenI’daccidentallysteppedintoapuddleonmywaytothebus,butIfeelasmiledriftuptomyface,likeit’sthemostnaturalthingintheworld.LikeIcan’tthinkofasinglereasonwhyIshouldn’tbesmiling,whyIhaven’tbeendoingitmoremywholelife.“Good.Great,actually.”
Sheassessesmeforafewbeats,hereyeswarm.“Youlookveryhappy.”
“Sodoyou,”Isayinsurprise,studyinghertoo.It’shardtoplacewhat,exactly,isdifferent,onlythatitis.Maybeit’ssomethingabouttheeveninglightstreaminginthroughthewindowsandsofteningherfeatures,ortherelaxedlineofhershoulders.Orjusthowstillsheis.Inallmymemoriesofher,she’smovingaround,restless,rushingtogetfromoneplacetoanother.
“Becauseyouare,”shesays.“Also,Maxhasgoodnews.He’sbeenwaitingforyoutogetbacktotellyouhimself.”
Icranemyneck.“Goodnews?”
Thesecondthewordsleavemylips,Maxpopsoutfromthebackroom.“Surprise,”hecalls,beamingwide.
I’minstantlywary.“Isthisoneofthosejokeswhereyousayyou’rethesurprisebecauseyourpresenceitselfisagift?”
“No,thoughI’mveryflatteredyouthinkso,”Maxsays,pullingoutthechairoppositemewithadrawn-outscrapingsound.“Ihavesomethingbetterthanthat.”Hepausesdramaticallyandclearshisthroat.“Youmightwanttobeseatedforthis.”
“I’malreadyseated.”
“It’safigureofspeech,”hesays,annoyed.“Cooperate,please.”
“Aiya,justhurryupandtellher,Max,”mymomurges,steppingoutfrombehindthecountertojoinus.Sheeventakesherworkapronoff,whichishowIknowthatwhatever’scomingisabigdeal.I’veseenherfallasleepwiththatthingon.
“Okay.Sobasically,ascoutfortheHunters—yes,theHunters—hasbeencomingtoafewofmygamesand?.?.?.?inshort,they’reinterestedinrecruitingme.Like,superinterested.Like,ifthiswereamarriage,they’realreadyshoppingaroundforthering.Andit’soccurringtomeasIspeakthatthat’saweirdanalogy,but,like,whatever,becausethey’reinterested.”
Myjawdrops.“I—Ohmygod.”It’sallIcanthinktosay.“Areyou—areyouforreal?”
Hegrinsatme.“Obviously.”
I’mstillfumblingaroundforproperwordstoexpresshowelatedIam,howrelieved,howshocked,soIslaphisarminstead.
“Hey!”heyelps.“Whyareyouhittingme—”
“Whenwasthis?Whydidn’tyousayanythingsooner?”
“Imean,it’skindofbeenadevelopingsituationforthepastfewmonths,andIdidn’twanttogetyourhopesuptooquicklyincaseyouweredisappointed?.?.?.”
Pastfewmonths.I’mawarethatI’mgaping,butIcan’thelpit.ThisentiretimeI’vebeenworriedsickabouthimandhisfuture,desperatetosolveeveryproblemtocomeup,becauseIthoughtthathewasn’tworriedatallThathesimplydidn’tcareenough.Buthe’sokay—farbetterthanokay.Andthisbakeryisokaytoo.And,somehow,soismymom,who’ssmilingatbothofus,hereyesbright.
AndIhavetowonderwhenthingschanged.Orifit’sbeenlikethisforyears,butIwasburiedtoodeepinmyownguilttolookupandseeformyselfthateverythingisreally,trulyfine.
Mychestachesatthethought,joyandsadnessminglingtogether.
“I’mhappyforyou,”ItellMax.“Genuinely.”
Hewrinkleshisnose,buthealsobumpsmyshoulder.It’swhatweusedtodowhenwewereonthesameteaminbasketballandwonagameagainstourdad.AndI’vemissedthat.Notjustourdad,butbeingonMax’steam.“Don’tyoudaregoallsappyonme,”hewarns.“SaveitforwhenIbreakaworldrecord.”
“Fine.ThenI’llsaveyouthespeechandgodosomethingproductive.”Ilookaroundforacloth.“Haveallthetablesbeenwipedalready?BecauseIcan—”
“No,”Momsays.
“No?”Irepeat,confused.
“Youjustgotback,”shesays.“Rest.Relax.Dowhateveryouwanttodo.”
Ihesitate.“Areyousure?”
“Go,”sheinsists.
I’msorry.Thewordsriseinstinctivelytomylips,butIpushthemdown,sealthemshutwiththepartofmethatbelieveseveryoneelse’shappinessshouldcomeattheexpenseofmyown.Trysomethingdifferentforonce.“Thankyou,”Isayquietly.Itfeelsforeign.Strange.Yetittastessweetonmytongue,likeforgiveness,liketherisingspringair,likethelingeringscentofstrawberryshortcakes.
Likeabeginning.
???
Onthebusridehome,Itakethewindowseatandcomposeabrand-newemail:
Julius,
I’mwritingthistoinformyouthatyou’rethemostinfuriatingpersonI’veevermet.You,withyoursmug,razor-sharpsmiles,yourmockingeyes,yourarrogance,andyourvanity.Yourvoicewhenyoucallmyname,yourhandswhentheywraparoundmine.I’mnotsofamiliarwithvices—IliketothinkIhavenone,butifanythingweretocount,youwouldbemyonlyone.Itmustbeanaddictionoranobsession.IhaveneverknownanybodyascompletelyasIknowyou,andyetIstillwanttositnexttoyou,drawclosetoyou,closer.Iwantyoutotellmeeverystory,wanttolistentoyouspeakuntilthenightsinksintheskyandthestarsfadeout.Iwantyoutoholdmelikeagrudge,keepmelikeapromise,hauntmelikeaghost.You’resobeautifulitenragesme.
Maybeyou’reexpectinganapologyafterallthistime,soI’llcuttothechase:It’snotcoming.Iapologizefartoomuch—I’mworkingonit,Ipromise—butI’mnotsorryforthoseemails.
YouknowthateveningwhenIstumbledacrossyourconversationwithyourbrother?Allright,notstumbled—followed.That’sbesidethepoint.Afterward,Icouldtrackthehurtinyoureyes,andeverythinginmeburned.I’mnotsureifIexpressedmyselfclearlyenoughthen,ifI’dconvincedyouenough.Ifnot,thenletmeestablishfornowandforeverthatyouwillneverbesecond.Youwillneverbeinadequate.Youwillneverbeanythingbutgood.
Becauseyoucarehowyourparentsseeyou.Becauseyouwilltalkaboutanythingexceptthethingsthatactuallyhurtyou.Becauseyounevercommittosomethingifyoucan’tseeitthroughtotheend.Becauseyouarebrutallyhardonyourself,andyouhavenevergoneeasyonmeinacompetitionortest.Becauseyouchallengeme,youdistractmewhenmybrainisbeingcruel,yousharpenmyedgeswhentheworldtriestowearthemdown.BecauseeverytimeItiredduringclass,Iwouldcatchyoureyeacrosstheroom,andrememberwhyIneededtokeepgoing.
SinceI’vedecidedtopeelbackmyprideforthelengthofthisemail,letmetellyoualittlesecret.WhenIwasfourteen,Iwouldstareupatmybedroomwallsandwonderwhatitwasliketofallinlove.Mostofmyinspirationcamefromsongsandthemovies.Butstill,Iimaginedit.Whatitwouldbeliketobesomeonewhohadsomebodyelse.Iwouldimaginetenderness.Theconceptofinfinity.Ofendlesspatience.ImaginethemchasingaftermeevenwhenIrun.Cradlingmysorrowsinthepalmoftheirhands.Imaginethemcaring,tryingtounderstand.
Andnowthere’syou.Thiswholetime,it’sbeenyou,andIdidn’tevenrealize.Inretrospect,itmakessense,doesn’tit?Inordertobeattheenemy,youhavetounderstandthemintimately.Youhavetoobservethem,learntheirweaknesses,memorizetheireveryword,tracktheirprogress,predicttheirnextmove.FortenyearsIthoughtIwaspreparingtodestroyyou,whenreallyIwaspreparingtoloveyou.
AllofwhichistosayIreallyhopethisfindsyou.
AndIhopeyoufindmetoo.
Sadie
Ireceivehisreplywithintenminutes.It’sonlytwosentences:
Youwereright,SadieWen.Iamcompletely,helplesslyobsessedwithyou.
Love,
JuliusThisbookcouldnothavefounditswaytoyouwithoutthetalentandeffortsofthefollowingpeople:
Myeternalthankstomyextraordinaryagent,KathleenRushall.Thankyouforalwaysmakingmefeelsoseenandsupported,andforbeingtherethroughoutthisentirejourney.Imayhavetrustissues,butIwouldtrustyouwithmylife.ThankyoutotheincredibleteamatAndreaBrownLiteraryAgencyforyoursupport.
Ahugethank-youtoMayaMarlette,forunderstandingtheheartofthisstoryandforhelpingmeshapeitintowhatitistoday.Itissuchatremendousjoyandhonortogettoworkwithyouonanotherbook.ThankyoutoMaeveNorton,ElizabethParisi,andRobinHarforallyourworkonthebeautifulcover.ThankyoutoeveryoneatScholasticforyourenthusiasmandexpertise,including:ElizabethWhiting,CarolineNoll,MelanieWann,DanMoser,JaradWaxman,JodyStigliano,JackieRubin,NikkiMutch,SavannahD’Amico,LoriBenton,JohnPels,RachelFeld,ErinBerger,LiaFerrone,AverySilverberg,DaisyGlasgow,andSealeBallenger.AllmythankstoJanellHarris,PriscillaEakeley,SarahMondello,JodyCorbett,andJessicaWhiteforplayingsuchanintegralpartinpreparingthisbookforpublication.ThankyoutothefantasticEmilyHeddleson,LizetteSerrano,andSabrinaMontenigro.MyheartfeltthankstoDavidLevithan,EllieBerger,andLeslieGarych.
IamdeeplygratefulforTarynFagernessatTarynFagernessAgency.Thankyouforhelpingbringthisbooktomorereadersaroundtheworld,andforallthatyoudo.
ThankyoutoeveryoneintheUSandabroadwhohaschampionedthisbookthroughoutthepublicationprocessandbeyond.
Thankyou,foreverandalways,tomyreaders,forbeingsokindandgenerousandwonderful.Gettingtosharethesestoriesandcharacterswithyouistrulyoneofthemostmeaningfulexperiencesofmylife.
Endlessthankstomyfriendsbothinandoutsidethepublishingindustry,foryourwarmthandwisdom,andformakingeverythingbetter.
Thankyou,ofcourse,tomysister,Alyssa.Thankyouforalwaysbeingmyearliestreaderandbiggestcheerleader,andfornotgettingtooannoyedwhenIaskforyouropiniononverysmall,specificthings,orwhenIaskyouquestionslike“WhatshouldIwriteaboutforyourpartintheacknowledgments?”I’mextremelygratefulforyourcompanyandreassuranceandhumor—sogratefulthatIalmostdon’tevenmindyoubeingthetallersibling.
Tomyparents:ThankyouforsupportingmeinmorewaysthanIcancount.ThankyouforencouragingmetoreadandwritewhenIwasachild,andfornotfreakingoutwhenIdecidedIwantedtoreadandwriteforaliving.
PhotobyAlyssaLiang
AnnLiangisagraduateoftheUniversityofMelbourneandauthorofthecriticallyacclaimedYAnovelsThisTimeIt’sRealandIfYouCouldSeetheSun.BorninBeijing,shegrewuptravelingbackandforthbetweenChinaandAustralia,butsomehowendedupwithanAmericanaccent.Whensheisn’twriting,shecanbefoundmakingoverambitiousto?dolists,binge-watchingdramas,andhavingprofoundconversationswithherpetlabradoodleaboutwho’sagooddog.Youcanfindheronlineatannliang.com.IfYouCouldSeetheSun
ThisTimeIt’sRealWantmorefromAnnLiang?TurnthepageforapeekatThisTimeIt’sReal!
I’mabouttochangeintomyschooluniformwhenInoticethemanfloatingoutsidemybedroomwindow.
No,floatingisn’ttherightword,IrealizeasIstepcloser,myplaidskirtstillcrumpledinonehand,mypulseracinginmyears.He’sdangling.Hiswholebodyissuspendedbytwometalwiresthatlookdangerouslythin,consideringhowwe’reonthetwenty-eighthfloorandthesummerwind’sbeenblowingextrahardsincenoon,kickingupdustandleaveslikeaminitornado.
Ishakemyhead,bewilderedastowhyanyonewouldputthemselvesinsuchaposition.Whatisthis—somekindofnewextremesport?Aganginitiation?
Amidlifecrisis?
Themancatchesmestaringandgivesmeacheerfullittlewave,asifheisn’tonefaultywireorlooseknotorparticularlyaggressivebirdawayfromplummetingdownthesideofthebuilding.Then,stillever-so-casual,hepullsoutawetclothfromhispocketandstartsscrubbingtheglassbetweenus,leavingtrailsofwhitefoameverywhere.
Right.Ofcourse.
Mycheeksheat.I’vebeenawayfromChinaforsolongthatIcompletelyforgotthisishowapartmentwindowsarecleaned—thesamewayIforgothowthesubwaylineswork,orhowyou’renotsupposedtoflushtoiletpaper,orhowyoucanonlybargainatcertaintypesofstoreswithoutcomingacrossasbrokeorstingy.ThenthereareallthethingsthathavechangedinthetwelveyearsthatmyfamilyandIwereoverseas,thethingsIneverhadthechancetolearninthefirstplace.Likehowpeoplehereapparentlyjustdon’tusecashanymore.
I’mnotkidding.WhenItriedtohandawaitressanoldonehundredyuannotetheotherweek,she’dgapedatmeasthoughI’dtime-traveledstraightfromtheseventeenthcentury.
“Uh,hello?Eliza?Areyoustillthere?”
Ialmosttripovermybedcornerinmyhastetogettomylaptop,whichhasbeenproppedupontwocardboardboxeslabeledELIZA’SNOTVERYIMPORTANTSTUFF—boxesIhaven’tgottenaroundtounpackingyet,unlikemyVERYIMPORTANTSTUFFbox.MathinksIcouldaffordtobeabitmorespecificwithmylabels,butyoucan’tsayIdon’thavemyownsystem.
“Eli-za?”Zoe’svoice—achinglyfamiliareventhroughthescreen—growslouder.
“I’mhere,I’mhere,”Icallback.
“Oh,good,becauseliterallyallIcanseeisabarewall.Speakingofwhich…girl,areyouevergoingtodecorateyourroom?You’vebeentherefor,like,threemonthsanditlookslikeahotel.Imean,anicehotel,sure,but—”
“It’sadeliberateartisticchoice,okay?Youknow,minimalismandallthat.”
Shesnorts.I’magoodbullshitter,butZoehappenstohaveagreatbullshitdetector.“Isit,though?Isitreally?”
“Maybe,”Ilie,turningthelaptoptowardme.OnesideofthescreenhasbeentakenupbyapersonalessayformyEnglishclassandaboutabilliontabson“howtowriteakissscene”forresearchpurposes;ontheothersideismybestfriend’sbeautiful,grinningface.
ZoeSato-Meyer’ssittinginherkitchen,herfavoritetweedjacketdrapedaroundhernarrowframe,herdarkwavessmoothedbackintoahighponytailandhaloedbytheoverheadlightslikeaverystylishseventeen-year-oldangel.Thepitch-blackwindowsbehindher—andthebowlofsteaminginstantnoodlesonthecounter(herideaofabedtimesnack)—aretheonlyclueit’ssomeungodlyhourofthenightinLArightnow.
“Ohmygod.”Hereyescuttomywornpolka-dotsweatshirtasIadjustmylaptopcamera.“Ican’tbelieveyoustillhavethatshirt.Didn’tyouwearitineighthgradeorsomething?”
“What?It’scomfortable,”Isay,whichistechnicallytrue.ButIguessit’salsotruethatthisugly,frayingshirtisoneoftheonlythingsthat’sremainedconsistentthroughoutsixdifferentcountriesandtwelvedifferentschools.
“Okay,okay.”Zoeholdsupbothhandsinmocksurrender.“Youdoyou.But,like,still,shouldn’tyoubechanging?Unlessyouplantowearthattoyourparent-teacherconferences…”
Myattentionsnapsbacktotheskirtinmygrip,totheforeign-lookingWESTBRIDGEINTERNATIONALSCHOOLOFBEIJINGlogoembroideredoverthestiff,plastickyfabric.Aknotformsinmystomach.“Yeah,no,”Imutter.“Ishoulddefinitelybechanging.”
Thewindowcleaner’sstillhere,soIyankthecurtainsclosed—butnotbeforeIcatchaglimpseofthesprawlingapartmentcomplexbelow.ForaplacecalledBluelake,there’sverylittlethat’sactuallyblueabouttheneatrowsofbuildingsorcuratedgardens,butthereisplentyofgreen:intheman-madelakeattheheartofthecompoundanditsadjoininglotusponds,thespaciousminigolfcourseandtenniscourtsbytheparkinglot,thelushgrassliningthepebbledpathsandmaidenhairtrees.Whenwefirstmovedin,thewholeareahadremindedmeofafancyresort,whichseemsfitting.Afterall,it’snotlikewe’llbestayingherelongerthanayear.
WhileIwriggleintomyuniform,Zoesnapsherfingersandsays,“Wait,you’renotgettingoutofthis—tellmeagainwhyyou’rewritingaboutanonexistentboyfriendforyouressay?”
“Notwriting.Written,”Icorrect,pullingmyshirtovermyhead.“I’vealreadyturneditin.Andit’snotlikeIwantedtomakeupastoryaboutmylovelife,butIdidn’tknowwhatelsetowrite…”Ipausetofreeastrandofmylong,inkyhairfromoneoftheshirtbuttons.“Thisthingisduetonight,anditcountsaspartofourcoursework,so…youknow.Ihadtogetalittlecreative.”
Zoesnortsagain,soloudthistimehermicrophonecrackles.“Yourealizepersonalessaysshouldn’tbemadeup,right?”
“No,”Isay,deadpan.“Personalessaysshouldbepersonal?Totallynewstome.Shocking.Mylifeisalie.”
Thetruthis,Ichosetoturnmyseriousnonfictionassignmentintowhat’sessentiallyafour-thousand-wordromancebecauseofhowpersonalit’smeanttobe.Thetopicitselfisbadenough,inspiredbythissappybookwestudiedinthefirstweekofschool:InWhentheNightingalesSangBack,LucyandTayloraredescribedtohavetheirown“secretlanguage”thatnooneelseknows.Whodoyoushareasecretlanguagewith?Howdiditdevelop?Whatdoesthatpersonmeantoyou?
Evenso,Imight’veheldmynoseandgonealongwithit,writtenanonlylightlyexaggeratedpieceabouteitheroneofmyparentsormylittlesisterorZoe…exceptwehavetopostourfinishedessayontheWestbridgeschoolblog.Asin,averypublicplatformthatanyone—anyofmyclassmateswhoknowmeonlyas“thenewkid”or“theonewhorecentlymovedfromtheStates”—couldseeandcommenton.
There’snowayI’msharingactualdetailsaboutmyclosestpersonalrelationships.Eventhefakedetailsareembarrassingenough:likehowI’dtracedthelinesofthispretendboyfriend’spalm,whisperedsecretstohiminthedark,toldhimhemeanttheworldtome,thathefeltlikehome.
“…notevenremotelyconcernedthatpeopleatyourschoolmight,Idon’tknow,readitandbecuriousaboutthisboyfriendofyours?”Zoe’ssaying.
“I’vegotitcovered,”IreassureherasItugthecurtainsbackopen.Lightfloodsinatonce,illuminatingthetinyspecksofdustfloatingbeforemynow-emptywindow.“Ididn’tincludeaname,sonoonecantryandstalkhim.Plus,IwrotethatImetthisfictionaldudethreemonthsagowhileIwasapartmenthuntingwithmyfamily,whichisaprettyplausiblemeet-cutewithoutrevealingwhatschoolhemightgoto.And,sinceourrelationshipisstillprettynewandeverything’skindofdelicate,weliketokeepthingsprivate.See?”Istepinfrontofthecameraandmakeagrandgesturetowardtheair,asiftheentiretyofmyessayiswrittenrightthereinglowingletters.“Foolproof.”
“Wow.”Anintakeofbreath.“Wow.Imean,allthiseffort,”Zoesays,soundingexasperatedandimpressedatthesametime,“justsoyoudon’thavetowritesomethingreal?”
“That’stheplan.”
There’sabriefsilence,brokenonlybytheslurpofnoodlesonZoe’sendandthethudoffootstepsoutsidemyroom.ThenZoesighsandasks,inatonefartooconcernedformyliking,“Areyoudoingokayatyournewschool,girl?Like,areyou…settlingin?”
“What?”Ifeelmyselfstiffenimmediately,mymusclestensingasthoughanticipatingablow.“Why—whywouldyousaythat?”
“Idon’tknow.”Zoejerksashoulder,herponytailbouncingwiththemotion.“Just…vibes.”
I’msavedfromhavingtoanswerwhenMacallsdownthehallatavolumeonewouldusuallyreserveforsearch-and-rescuemissions.“Ai-Ai!Thedriver’shere!”
Ai-AiismyChinesenickname,whichtranslatesdirectlytolove.Fictionalrelationshipaside,Ican’tquitesayI’veliveduptoit.
“I’mcoming!”Iyellback,thenturntothescreen.“Iassumeyouheardthat?”
Zoegrins,andIrelaxslightly,relievedwhateverheart-to-heartconversationshewastryingtohaveisover.“Yeah,Ithinkthewholeplanetheardit.TellyourmomIsaidhi,”sheadds.
“Willdo.”BeforeIshutmylaptop,Imakeacheesyheartsignwithmyfingers;somethingIwouldn’tbecaughtdeaddoingaroundanyoneelse.“Imissyou.”
Zoeblowsadramatickissatmeinresponse,andIlaugh.“Imissyoutoo.”
Thehardknotinmystomachloosensalittleatthefamiliarwords.EversinceIleftLAtwoyearsago,we’veendedeverysinglecalllikethis,nomatterhowbusyandtiredweare,orhowshorttheconversationis,orhowlongit’llbeuntilwecantalkagain.
Imissyou.
It’snotasgoodasthesleepoversweusedtohaveatherplace,wherewe’dsprawlonthecouchinourpajamas,someNetflixshowplayingonherlaptop,aplateofhermom’shomemadericeballsbalancedbetweenus.Andit’snowherenearasgoodasourweekendtripsdownbythebeach,theCaliforniasunwarmingourskin,thebreezetuggingatoursalt-tangledhair.Ofcourseitisn’t.
Butfornow,thissmall,simpleritualfeelsenough.
Becauseit’sours.
???
Ourdriverhasparkedhiscarjustoutsidetheapartmentcomplex,underthedappledshadeofawillowtree.
Technically,LiShushuisn’tsomuchourdriverasMa’sdriver—oneofthemanyperksofbeinganexecutiveatasuper-prestigiousglobalconsultingcompany,andpartofthesorry-for-asking-you-to-uproot-yourlife-almost-every-year!package—whichiswhyherushesouttogreetherfirst.
“YuNüshi,”hesays,openingthedoorforherwithalittlebow.MadameYu.
ThiskindoftreatmentalwaysmakesmeuncomfortableinawayIcan’tarticulate,evenwhenit’snotdirectedatme,butMajustsmilesathimthroughhersunglassesandslidesgracefullyintothefrontseat.Lookingathernow,withherpale,unblemishedskinandcustom-madeblazerandrazor-sharpbob,you’dneverguessshegrewupfightingforscrapswithsixothersiblingsinapoorruralChinesetown.
Therestofussqueezeintothebackofthecarinourusualorder:meandBabesidethewindows,andmynine-year-oldlittlesister,Emily,squashedinthemiddle.
“Toyourschool?”LiShushuconfirmsinslow,enunciatedMandarinashestartstheengine,thesmellofnewleatherandpetrolfumesseepingintotheenclosedspace.He’sbeenaroundmelongenoughtoknowtheextentofmyChineseskills
“Totheschool,”Iagree,doingmybesttoignorethepinchinmygut.IhategoingtoWestbridgeenoughasitis,butwhatevertheschool,parent-teacherinterviewsarealwaystheworst.Ifitwasn’tforthefactthatEmilygoestothesameschoolasmeandalsohasherinterviewsthisevening,I’dhavemadeupabrilliantexcusetokeepusallhome.
Toolatetodoanythingnow.
Ileanbackinmyseatandpressmycheektothecool,flatglass,watchingourapartmentcomplexgrowsmallerandsmalleruntilitdisappearsentirely,replacedbytheonrushoftheinnercityscene.
Sincewemovedbackhere,I’vespentmostofourcarridesplasteredtothewindowlikethis,tryingtotakeinthesharpriseandfalloftheBeijingskyline,themazeofintersectionsandringroads,thebrightclustersofdumplingrestaurantsandpackedgrocerystores.
Tryingtomemorizeitall—andtryingtoremember.
ItkindofamazesmehowmisleadingthephotosyoutendtoseeofBeijingare.Theyeitherdepictthecityasthissmoggypostapocalypticworldpackedfullofweathered,stony-facedpeopleinpollutionmasks,ortheymakeitlooklikesomethingstraightoutofahigh-budgetsci-fimovie,allsleekskyscrapersanddazzlinglightsanddrippingluxury
Theyrarelycapturethetrueenergyofthecity,theforwardmomentumthatrunsbeneatheverythingherelikeawildundercurrent.Everyoneseemstobehustling,reaching,strivingformore,movingfromoneplacetothenext;whetherit’sthedeliveryguyweavingthroughthetrafficbehinduswithdozensoftakeoutboxesstrappedtohisbike,orthebusinesswomantextingsomeonefranticallyintheMercedesonourleft.
MyattentionshiftswhenafamousChineserapper’ssongstartsplayingontheradio.Intherearviewmirror,IseeMaremovehersunglassesandvisiblywince.
“Whydoeshekeepmakingthosesi-gesi-gesounds?”shedemandsafteraboutthreeseconds.“Doeshehavesomethingstuckinhisthroat?”
Ichokeonalaugh.
“It’sjusthowmusicsoundsnowadays,”BasaysinMandarin,everthediplomat
“Ithinkit’skindofnice,”Ivolunteer,bobbingmyheadtothebeat.
Maglancesbackatmewithahalf-heartedscowl.“Don’tbounceyourheadlikethat,Ai-Ai.Youlooklikeachicken.”
“Youmeanlikethis?”Ibobmyheadharder.
BahidesasmilewiththebackofhishandwhileMacluckshertongue,andEmily,whoI’mconvincedisreallyaneighty-year-oldgrandmatrappedinsideanine-year-old’stinybody,letsoutalong,dramaticsigh.“Teenagers,”shemutters.
Ielbowherintheribs,whichmakesherelbowmeback,whichsetsoffawholenewroundofbickeringthatonlyendswhenMathreatenstofeedusnothingbutplainricefordinner.
IfI’mhonest,though,it’sinthesemoments—withthemusicfillingthecarandthewindwhippingpastthewindows,thelate-afternoonsunflashinggoldthroughthetreesandmyfamilyclosebesideme—thatIfeel…lucky.Really,trulylucky,despiteallthemovingandleavingandadjusting.Despiteeverything.Themooddoesn’tlast.
AssoonaswepullupbesidetheWestbridgeschoolbuildings,Irealizemymistake.
Everyoneisdressedincasualclothes.Cutesummerdresses.Croptopsandjeanshorts.Theteachersdidn’tspecifywhattowearthisevening,andInaivelyassumedit’dbestandarduniform,becausethat’swhattheexpectationswereatmypreviousschool.
Myfamilystartsgettingoutofthecar,andIpushdownaswellofpanic.It’snotlikeI’llgetintroubleforwearingwhatI’mwearing—IjustknowI’lllookdumbandstandout.I’lllookliketheCluelessNewKid,whichisexactlywhatIam,butthatdoesn’tmakeitanyeasiertobear.
“Ai-Ai.”Matapsthewindow.“Kuaidian.”Hurry.
Isayaquickthankstothedriverandstepoutside.Atleasttheweather’snice;thewind’squieteddowntomoreofagentle,silkybreeze,awelcomereprievefromtheheat.Andthesky.Theskyisbeautiful,ablendofpastelbluesandmutedpinks.
Iinhale.Exhale.
Thisisfine,Itellmyself.Totallyfine.
“Comeon,Baba,”Emilyissaying,alreadypullingBatowardtheprimaryschoolsectionofthecampus,whereallthewallsarepaintedbrightcolors.Obnoxiouslybrightcolors,ifyouaskme.“YouhavetotalktoMs.Chloe.Itoldherhowyouwereapoet,andyoudosigningsandstuffatbigbookstores,andshewassooooimpressed.Shedidn’tbelievemeatfirst,Idon’tthink,butthenImadehersearchyourname,andthen…”
Emilylooksactuallyfine,becausesheis.Nomatterwherewego,mylittlesisterneverhasanytroublefittingorsettlingin.WecouldprobablyshipherofftoAntarcticaandfindherjustchillingwiththepenguinstwoweekslater.
MaandIwalkintheoppositedirection,wheretheseniorclassroomsare.Thewidegraycorridorsarealreadyprettycrowdedwithparentsandstudents,someheadingin,someweavingtheirwayout.JustasIexpected,afewpeople’seyesslidetomystiffskirtandtoo-bigblazer,amixtureofpityandamusementflickeringovertheirfacesbeforetheyaverttheirgazes.
Iliftmychinhigh.Walkfaster.
Thisisfine.
Wecouldn’treachmyhomeroomfastenough.
It’sloudinside.Classmateseverywhere,teacherswaitingbehindrowsofdesks.Noneofthemsayhitome,andIdon’tsayhitothemeither.
Eventhoughschoolstartedalmostamonthago,Ihaven’treallygottentoknowanyone.Allthenamesandfacesandclasseskindofjustblurtogether.ThewayIseeit,we’llbegraduatinginlessthanayearanyway.There’snoreasontoputmyselfoutthere,asmypastteachersalllovedtorecommend,andgetattachedtopeopleonlytogrowapartmonthslater.WithMa’sjobmovingusaroundallthetime,it’salreadyhappenedtoomanytimesformetokeeptrack:thatslow,painful,far-too-predictabletransitionfromstrangerstoacquaintancestofriendsbacktostrangersthesecondIleavetheschoolbehindme.
I’dbeamasochisttoputmyselfthroughitagain.
Besides,therearefewerthanthirtykidsinmywholeyearlevel,andeveryone’sclearlyformedtheirowncliquesalready.Tomyright,agroupofgirlsaresquealingandembracinglikeit’sbeenyearssincetheylastsawoneanother,nothours.Andsomewherebehindme,anothergroupisdeepinconversation,switchingbetweenthreelanguages—English,Korean,andsomethingelse—withineverysentenceasifit’sthemostnaturalthingintheworld.
Prettyon-brandforaninternationalschool,Iguess.
“Ah!Lookwhoitis!”
MyEnglishandhomeroomteacher,Mr.Lee,wavesmeover,hiseyesbrightbehindhisthick,oversizedglasses.He’sbeencursedwiththisroundbabyfaceandunrulygray-streakedhair,whichhasthecombined,disorientingeffectofmakinghimlooklikehecouldeitherbeinhisearlythirtiesorlatefifties.
“Haveaseat,haveaseat,”hesaysbriskly,motioningtotwochairsontheothersideofhisdesk.ThenhisattentiongoestoMa,andhisexpressiongrowsmorebenevolent.Thewaysomeonewouldlookatacutekidinthepark.“Andthisis…Eliza’smother,I’massuming.”
“Yes.I’mEvaYu,”Masays,instantlyeasingintothechirpyWorkVoicesheusesaroundwhitepeople,heraccentflattenedtosoundmoreAmerican.Sheextendsamanicuredhand.“It’slovelytomeetyou.”
Mr.Lee’sbrowsfurrowalittleasheshakesit,andfurrowfartherwhenherealizeshowstronghergripis.Icantellhe’stryingtomatchuphisimpressionofMawithwhateverpreconceivedideahehadofher,justbasedonthenon-Westernsurname.
Maletsgofirst,sittingbackwithasmall,self-satisfiedsmile.
She’senjoyingthis,Iknow.She’salwaysenjoyedsurprisingpeople,whichhappensoften,becausepeoplearealwaysunderestimatingher.Partofthereasonshegotintoconsultinginthefirstplacewasbecauseafriendjokedthatshe’dneversurviveinthecorporateworld.
“Now…”Mr.Leeclearshisthroat.Turnstomeagain.“Sinceyou’renewtothis,let’sjustgoovertherulesrealquick,yeah?”Hedoesn’twaitformetorespond.“Inthenexttenminutesorso,I’llbetalkingtoyourmotheraboutyouracademicperformanceinyourEnglishclassessofar,yourlearningattitude,possibleareasforimprovement—yadayadaya.Nointerrupting,askingquestions,ordrawingattentiontoyourselfuntiltheveryend,whenIcallonyou.Isthatclear?”
Andpeoplewonderwhyteenagerstendtohaveauthorityissues.
“Ah,Iseeyou’vealreadygotthehangofit,”Mr.Leesayscheerfully,wavingahandatmystonyface.
Iletmygazeandattentionwander.
Then,acrosstheroom,IspotoneofthefewpeoplehereIdorecognize.
CazSong.
Forallmylackofeffort,it’dbehardnottohaveatleastsomeideaofwhoheis:Model.Actor.God—ifyouweretogobythewayeveryonegushesoverhimandfollowshiseverymove,despitehimneveractuallydoinganythingapartfromstandingaroundandlookingobnoxiouslypretty.Evennow,inthisdepressing,heavilysupervisedsetting,asubstantialcrowdofstudentshasalreadygatheredaroundhim,theirmouthsagape.Onegirl’sclutchinghersideinhystericallaughteratajokeheprobablynevermade.
Iresisttheurgetorollmyeyes.
I’veneverreallyunderstoodthehypearoundhim,unlessit’sfromapurelyaestheticperspective.Thereisthiscertainelegancetothecutofhisjaw,theslightpoutofhislips,thesharp,leananglesofhisframe.Hisdarkhairanddarkereyes.It’snotlikehisfeaturesareinhumanlyperfectoranything,buttogether,theyjustwork
Still,Igetthesensethathe’severybitasawareofthisasallhisadoringfans,whichkindofruinsit.Andofcoursethepressloveshim;justtheotherday,Istumbledacrosssomearticlethatdeemedhimoneofthe“RisingStarsoftheChineseEntertainmentIndustry.”
He’sleaningagainstthebackwallnow,handsshovedintopockets.Thisseemstobehisnaturalstate:leaningonsomething—doors,lockers,tables,younameit—asifhecan’tbebotheredstandinguprightonhisown.
ButI’vebeenstaringtoohard,toolong.Cazlooksup,sensingmygaze.
Iquicklylookaway.Tunebackintotheinterview,justintimetohearMr.Leesay:
“HerEnglishisreallyquitegood—”
“Yeah,well,IdidlearnEnglishwhenIwasakid,”IpointoutbeforeIcanstopmyself.YearsofgettingvaguelycondescendingcommentsaboutjusthowgoodmyEnglishisandhowIdon’tevenhaveanaccent—almostalwaysspokenwithanoteofsurprise,ifnotconfusion—havemadethisanaturalreflex.
Mr.Leeblinksatme.Adjustshisglasses.“Right…”
“Justwantedtoputthatoutthere.”Ileanbackinmyseat,suddenlyunsureifIshouldfeeltriumphantorguiltyforinterrupting.Maybehereallyhadmeantitinyourtypicalshe-sure-knows-her-conjunctionskindofway,ratherthananI-don’t-expect-people-who-look-like-her-to-speak-any-Englishway.
Maclearlyseemstobelievetheformer,becausesheshootsmeasharplook.
“Sorry.Carryon,”Imutter.
Mr.LeeglancesoveratMa.“SowhatI’mcurioustoknow,ifyoudon’tmind,isabitaboutEliza’sbackgroundbeforeshecamehere…”
Manods,wellpreparedforthis,andlaunchesintotheusualscript:borninChina,movedwhenshewasfive,wenttothisschoolandthatschoolandmovedcountriesagain…
Itrynottofidget,toflee.Beingtalkedaboutthiswaymakesmyskinitch.
“Ah,butthebestthingabouthavinglivedeverywhereisthatshebelongsanywhere.”Mr.LeestretcheshishandsoutwideinagesturethatI’massumingrepresents“anywhere”—andknocksoveratissueboxintheprocess.Hepauses,flustered.Picksitup.Then,unbelievably,continuesrightwhereheleftoff.“YoushouldknowthatElizaisnotacitizenofonecountryorevenonecontinent,butrathera—”
“Ifyousaycitizenoftheworld,I’mgoingtothrowup,”Imutterundermybreath,lowenoughforonlymetohear.
Mr.Leeleansforward.“Sorry,what’sthat?”
“Nothing.”Ishakemyhead.Smile.“Nothing.”
Abeat.
“Well,sincewe’reonthetopicofEliza’scircumstances,”Mr.Leesaysdelicately,hesitantly,andIhaveaterriblefeelingIknowwhat’scoming.“IdoworrythatElizaishavingahardtime…adjusting.”
Mythroattightens.
This.ThisiswhyIhateparent-teacherinterviews.
“Adjusting,”Marepeatswithafrown,thoughshedoesn’tlooktoosurprised.Justsad.
“Shedoesn’tseemtobeclosewithanyoneinherclass,”Mr.Leeelaborates.Thetrilingualgroupwaitingfortheirparentsinthebackchoosethistimetoburstintoloudlaughteratwhateveritisthey’rechattingabout,thesoundbangingagainstallfourwalls.Mr.Leeraiseshisvoice,almostyelling,“Thatistosay,it’ssomewhatconcerningthatshestilldoesn’thaveanyfriendshere.”
Unfortunatelyforme,thenoiselevelshappentodiedownagainhalfwaythroughhissentence.
Andofcourse,everyonehearseverylastword.There’sanawkwardpause,andaboutthirtypairsofeyesburnholesintomyskull.Myfacecatchesfire.
Irisefrommyseat,wincinginwardlywhenthechairlegssqueakagainstthepolishedfloor,scrapingagainstthesilence.Imumblesomethingaboutusingthebathroom.
ThenIgetthehelloutofthere.
Inmydefense,I’mgenerallyprettygood—anexpert,even—atpushingmyfeelingsasideanddisconnectingmyselffromeverything,butsometimesitjusthitsmehard:thishorrible,crushingsenseofwrongness,ofotherness,regardlessofwhetherI’mtheonlyAsiankidataneliteCatholicall-girlsschoolinLondonortheonlynewkidinatinycohortataChineseinternationalschool.SometimesI’mconvincedI’llspendtherestofmylifethisway.Alone
SometimesIthinklonelinessismydefaultsetting.
Tomyrelief,thecorridorisempty.Iretreatintothefarthestcorner,benddownintoahalfcrouch,andtakemyphoneout.Scrollthroughnothingforaminute.Feelintuitivelyfortheroughstringbraceletaroundmywrist,agiftfromZoe,letitcomfortme.
Thisisfine,I’mfine.
ThenIheadontotheCraneswiftwebsite.
IdiscoveredCraneswiftafewyearsback,whenIpickeduponeoftheirnewslettersataLondontrainstation,andI’vebeenreadingtheirstuffeversince.Theydon’thaveamassivereadership,buttheymorethanmakeupforitinqualityandreputation.Basicallyanyonewho’severbeenluckyenoughtopublishtheirwritingthroughCraneswifthasgoneontoachievethekindofsuccessIcouldonlydreamof:journalismawards,prestigiousnonfictionwritingscholarshipsinNewYork,internationalrecognition.Allbecausetheywrotesomethingbeautifulandprofound.
Wordsjustmoveme.Abeautifulsentencewillsneakundermyskinandcrackmeopenthewayaphraseofmusicmight,oraclimacticscenefromamovie.Awell-craftedstorycanmakemelaughandgaspforbreathandweep.
AsIsettleintooneofCraneswift’srecentlypostedessaysaboutfindingsoulmatesintheunlikeliestofplaces,thefamiliarbluewebsitebannerglowingoverthescreen,Icanalreadyfeelsomeoftheweightonmyshoulderseasing,thetensioninmybodydissolving—
Adoorcreaksopenandnoisespillsintothehallway.
Istiffen,squintdownthecorridor.CazSongstepsoutalone,hisgazesweepingrightpastmelikeI’mnotevenhere.Helooksdistracted.
“…allwaitingforyou,”he’ssaying,ararecreasebetweenhisbrows,anevenrareredgetohisvoice.Cazhasalwaysgivenmetheimpressionofsomeonepulledstraightoutofamagazinecover:glossyandairbrushedanddigestible;marketableandinoffensive.Butrightnowhe’spacinginanagitatedcircle,hisfootstepssolighttheybarelymakeanysound.“Thesearetheparent-teacherinterviews.Ican’tjustdoitalone.”
Foroneconfusingmoment,Ithinkhe’stalkingtohimselfortryingoutsomeweirdactingtechnique,butthenIhearthemuffledfemalevoicecomingoutthroughhisphone’sspeakers:
“Iknow,Iknow,butmypatientneedsmemore.Canyoutellyourteachersomethingcameupatthehospital?Haoerzi,tinghua.”Goodchild.Behave.“Maybewecanreschedulefornextweek—thatworkedlasttime,didn’tit?”
IwatchCazbreathein.Out.Whenhespeaksagain,hisvoiceisremarkablycontrolled.“No,that’sfine,Mom.I—I’lltellthem.I’msurethey’llunderstand.”
“Haoerzi,”thewomansaysagain,andevenfromthisdistance,Icanheartheoddcommotioninthebackground.Slammingmetal.Thebeepofamonitor.“Oh,andjustbeforeIgo—whatdidtheysayaboutthosecollegeapplications?”
Applications.
Iturntheunexpectedsnippetofinformationoverinmyhead.Thisisnewstome.I’dfiguredsomeonelikeCazwouldskipthecollegeroute,godowntheactingpathinstead.
Butatpresent,theRisingStarhimselfisrubbinghisjawandsaying,“It’s…fine.TheyreckonthatifIcanpulloffareallygreatcollegeadmissionessay,itshouldbeabletomakeupformygradesandattendancerecord…”
Asighhissesthroughthespeakers.“WhatdoIalwaystellyou,ya?Gradesfirst,gradesfirst.Doyouthinkthecollegeadmissionsteamcaresifyouplayleadroleincampusdrama?DoyouthinktheyevenknowanyAsiancelebritiesotherthanJackieChan?”BeforeCazcanreply,hismothersighsagain.“Nevermind.Toolatenow.Youjustfocusonthatessay—areyoualmostdone?”
Itmightbeatrickofthelowcorridorlights,butIswearIseeCazwince.“Sortof.”
“What’ssortof?”
“I—”Hisjawclenches.“Imean,Istillneedtobrainstormandoutlineand…writeit.ButIwillfindawaytowriteit,”headdsquickly.“Promise.Trustme,Mom.I—Iwon’tletyoudown.”
There’salongpause.“Allright.Well,listen,mypatient’scallingforme,buttalksoon,okay?Andmakesureyoufocusonthoseessays.Ifyouputinevenhalfasmucheffortintothemasyoudomemorizingthosescripts,then—”
“Igotit,Mom.”
Somethinglikeworrybrieflypincheshisfeaturesasheendsthecall.
Then,ashespinstoleave,heseesmesquattinglikeafugitiveinthedarkofthecorridor,caughtstaringathimforthesecondtimethisevening.
“Oh,”hesays,thesametimeIstandupandblurtout,“Sorry!”andtherestofoursentencesspilloveroneanother:
“Ididn’tsee—”
“IpromiseIwasn’ttryingto—”
“It’scool—”
“Justabouttoheadin—”
“You’reEliza,right?ElizaLin?”
“Yes,”Isayslowly,andevenIcanhearthewaryedgeinmyvoice.“Why?”
Heraisesadarkbrow,allsignsofworrynowwipedcleanfromhisface.FastenoughtomakemewonderifI’dimaginedthemthereinthefirstplace.“Nothing.Justtryingtobefriendly.”
Aninnocuousreply.Perfectlyreasonable.
Andyet…
Shestilldoesn’thaveanyfriendshere.
“Didyou…hearwhatMr.Leesaidearlier?”Assoonasthewordsleavemymouth,Iwanttoretractthem.Erasethemfromexistencecompletely.Therearecertainthingsyousimplyshouldn’tdrawattentionto,evenifbothpartiesarewellawareoftheissue.Likeabadacneflare-up.Oryourhomeroomteacherdeclaringyoufriendlessinfrontofyourentireclass.
ThefactthatIdon’treallyneednewfriendsmakesthisnolessembarrassing.
Cazconsidersthequestionforasecond.Leansagainsttheclosestwall,sohalfhisbodyisangledtowardme.“Yeah,”headmits.“Yeah,Idid.”
“Ohwow.”
“What?”
Iletoutasmall,awkwardlaugh.“Iwaskindofexpectingyoutolieaboutit.Youknow.Tosparemyfeelingsorsomething.”
Insteadofrespondingdirectlytothat,hetiltshisheadandasks,histoneguarded,“Didyouhearmeonthephone?”
“No,”Itellhimwithoutthinking,thencringe.“Imean—well—”
“Veryniceofyoutocareaboutprotectingmyfeelings,”hesays,butthere’sacurlofironytohisvoicethatmakesmewanttoevaporateonthespot.Andthenanevenmorehorrifyingthoughtmaterializes:WhatifhethinksI’mafan?Orastalker?Anotheroneofthosewide-eyed,overenthusiasticclassmateswhofollowshimeverywherelikeadisciple,whowaswaitingoutherejusttogethimallalone?I’vewitnessedithappenmyselfadozentimesbefore:studentsduckingbehindliteralbinsorwallsandspringingonhimthesecondheroundsthecorner.
“IswearIdidn’tmeantooverhearanything,”Isayfrantically,holdingupbothhands.“Ididn’tevenknowyou’dcomeouthere.”
Heshrugs,hisfaceimpassive.“Allright.”
“Really,”Isay.“Swearonmyheart.”
Hegivesmealonglook.“Isaidallright.”
Buthedoesn’tsoundlikehefullybelievesmeeither.Myskinprickles,embarrassmentandannoyancewarmingmycheeks.Andthenmymouthdecidestomakeeverythingworsebysayingthemostridiculousthing:“I’mnot—I’mnotevenafan.”
Atersesecondpasses,hisexpressionshiftingbrieflyintosomethingimpossibletoread.Surprise,perhaps.Icanfeelmyinsidesdisintegrating.
“Goodtoknow,”hesaysatlast.
“Imean,I’mnotananti-faneither,”Isplutter,withthatdreadful,helpless,out-of-bodyfeelingofwatchingaprotagonistinsideahorrorfilm:whenyouwanttoscreamatthemtostop,buttheykeepmovingcloserandclosertowardtheirowndoom.“I’mjustneutral.Nothing.A—anormalperson.”
“Clearly.”
Iclampmymouthshut,mycheekshot.Ican’tbelieveI’mstillstandingherewithCazSong,whoapparentlyhasauniquetalentformakingmefeelevenmoreself-consciousthanIusuallydo.Ican’tbelievewe’restilltalking,andMr.Lee’sstillinsidethatcrowdedclassroomwithMa,andbothofthemthinkI’mstillinthebathroom.
Thisisanightmare.TimetofigureoutanescapestrategybeforeIcanembarrassmyselffurther.
“Youknowwhat?”IcranemyneckasthoughIjustheardsomeonecallforme.“I’mprettysurethatwasmymom.”
Cazliftsbotheyebrowsthistime.“Ididn’thearanything.”
“Yeah,well,shehasasoftvoice,”Ibabble,alreadymovingpasthim.“Hardtopickout,unlessyou’rereallyaccustomedtoit.So,um,Ishouldprobablygo.Seeyouaround!”
Idon’tgivehimachancetoreply.Ijustboltbackintotheclassroom,readytograbmymomandbegLiShushutocomepickusupassoonaspossible.Afteranordealthismortifying,Icannever,evertalktoCazSongeveragain.Copyright?2024byAnnLiang
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