Fireworks

by Katie Cotugno

  I kicked off the covers and then pulled them on again, shivering in the chilly forced air as Olivia breathed deeply on the other side of the room. Finally I got up, put a bra on underneath my T-shirt, and headed downstairs to the pool. It was late enough that the college kids who were usually down here at night had all passed out, and save for a couple of empty beer bottles rolling back and forth on the concrete, it was quiet. The two cats that always hung out around the complex—Boy Cat and Girl Cat, the guys called them—skulked underneath the lounge chairs, their green eyes glowing in the dark. I sat down on the edge of the deep end, dangling my feet into the cool, still water.

  The pool was lined with a couple of sad-looking palm trees and surrounded by rough, cracked cement. I hadn’t packed my bathing suit when we came here—I hadn’t known there’d be a pool—and it felt stupid to go out and waste money on one now when we hardly had any free time. The lights recessed into the walls of the pool turned the water pink and blue.

  “Don’t get scared,” a quiet voice said, somewhere over my left shoulder. “It’s just me.”

  I gasped and turned around, legs splashing in the water, scraping the side of my knee on the sharp concrete edge of the pool. There was Alex, sitting at one of the metal tables next to a giant freestanding ashtray, face half-dark and half-golden in the yellow glow of the bug-pocked lights.

  “Jeez, Alex,” I said, louder than I meant to. “What are you, stalking me?”

  “I was already down here!” he protested. “Maybe you’re stalking me.”

  “Yeah, right. Don’t get scared,” I mimicked in a low, creepy voice, rubbing my skinned knee. “How am I not supposed to get scared when you say that?”

  “Crap, did you actually hurt yourself?” Alex asked, getting up out of the chair and crouching down on the side of the pool next to me. His white T-shirt looked almost translucent in this light. “Shit, Dana, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said—it was, too, not even really bleeding, but Alex ducked his head to peer at it anyway, and when I looked up his face was right next to mine. “Hi,” I said, feeling like I might laugh.

  “Hi,” he said back, and then we were just staring at each other, this charged moment passing between us that felt like shoving a fork into an electrical socket, which I had actually done once when I was three but didn’t really remember. This jolt I could imagine feeling for a long time.

  “I should go,” I said, making to get up off the pool deck. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

  “Can I ask you something?” Alex looked at me curiously. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  I huffed at that, shaking my head a little. Because I think you’re cute and weird and talented, I didn’t tell him. Because my best friend does, too. “I’m not avoiding you!” I said instead, trying to sound like I thought he was ridiculous. “I have rehearsal in the morning, is all.”

  “Yeah. So do I,” Alex pointed out, shrugging. “How’s that going, anyway?”

  “What, rehearsals? Fine,” I lied. In reality, Lucas had yelled at me for so long today that I thought it was a minor miracle he hadn’t burst a blood vessel in his eye. “How are yours?”

  “They’re good,” Alex said immediately; then he grinned and shook his head. “Actually today was brutal. We had to do that breath control exercise for like an hour—you know, the one where you have to hold a scrap of paper against the wall for an eight count just by blowing on it? Have they made you guys do that? I almost passed out.”

  “Yeah, so did Ashley,” I told him, leaving out the part where my vision got pretty spotty, too. But then I didn’t like that, the idea that I was trying to impress him, so I added, kind of abruptly, “I almost barfed.”

  Alex laughed, but not meanly. “It’s so hard, right? I can sing and dance fine, but stuff like that kills me. Me and my brothers used to have these contests at the pool, you know, who could hold their breath underwater the longest? I lost every time.”

  “How old are your brothers?” I couldn’t resist asking. Alex seemed like somebody who came from a house like Olivia’s—where everyone was neat and tidy, swing set in the backyard and all of them pressed and combed for church on Sunday. I wondered if he could tell just by looking at me that I’d never been inside a church in my life, and told myself I didn’t care.

  “Nineteen and twenty,” Alex told me. “I’m the youngest. My mom had us all in a row.”

  “Olivia and I are like sisters,” I blurted, desperate to work her into the conversation any way I possibly could. I felt myself blush, but Alex just nodded.

  “You guys know each other from home, yeah?”

  “She’s my best friend,” I told him. “She’s great. She’s the one who wanted to audition in the first place. I mean, you know how talented she is.”

  “So you’re what, just kind of tagging along for the ride?”

  That cut a little close to the bone. “I mean, I’m not party crashing,” I snapped. “I got picked same as everybody else.”

  Alex turned ghost-white. “No, no, of course,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—I just meant you kind of give off a different vibe than the other girls, was all.”

  “And what vibe is that?” I demanded.

  “No, I mean—” Alex huffed out a breath, then smiled a little. “I’m doing this wrong,” he said. “I noticed you, is what I meant. From that first night in the parking lot. You stood out to me.” He shrugged, glancing down for a second, then back at me. His eyelashes were as long as a girl’s. “In, like, a good way.”

  “I—Oh.” I snorted a laugh of my own, then frowned abruptly: God, this was so, so bad. I started getting to my feet for real now.

  “Anyway,” Alex said, like he knew I was about to bolt and didn’t want me to, like he was trying to keep me talking. “I’m just saying, I don’t doubt your pop-star capabilities. A year from now you’ll be living in Beverly Hills and driving a Ferrari, just watch.”

  I smirked. “Of course that’s what you want,” I said, sitting back down again in spite of myself, kicking my legs through the chilly water. “A Ferrari. Boys always want stupid stuff like that.”

  “Stupid stuff, huh?” Alex raised his eyebrows. He had a really pretty mouth. “What would you want?”

  I shook my head, looking down at the frayed hem of my shorts. A door opened up on the second floor of the building, the flick of a lighter as a middle-aged woman lit a cigarette up on her balcony. The smoke curled through the humid air. “Forget it,” I said quietly. “It’s dumb.”

  “Come on,” Alex said. “I’m just teasing. Tell me.”

  “You’re going to laugh at me.”

  “I’m not going to laugh at you.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “A minivan.”

  Alex looked at me full-on then, elegant eyebrows arched and the edges of that pink mouth just barely twitching. “I’m not laughing,” he said finally.

  “I just like the idea of it, okay?” I said, feeling stupid, glancing up to make sure cigarette lady hadn’t overheard. I don’t know why it never occurred to me to just lie to Alex about my answer, to say something cooler and more normal. For some reason it didn’t seem like an option. “Like one of the fancy ones with a TV in it, like it’s this little house that just rolls around and nobody can touch you. Like being in a spaceship.”

  “A Dodge spaceship,” Alex said.

  I shook my head again, making a face. “I knew you’d think it was dumb.”

  “I don’t think it’s dumb,” he said, sliding his hand a tiny bit closer to mine on the concrete in a move I wasn’t sure if I was meant to notice or not. The edges of our pinkies brushed. “Hey. Dana. I don’t think it’s dumb.”

  I took a deep breath, glanced up at where Olivia was sleeping. Pulled my hand away. “My mom’s car,” I told him, “the car I learned to drive on? We’ve had it since before I was born and it just, like, scrapes along the road. Like you can almost feel the highway under your butt. That�
�s all.” I shrugged, pretty sure that just from those couple of sentences he’d be able to extrapolate a whole bunch of other undesirable things about me, my family, and where I was from. It made me feel equal parts embarrassed and defensive, worried what he’d think of me and simultaneously telling myself I didn’t care. “What do you actually drive, like, a Volvo or something?”

  “No!” Alex said, like I’d offended him somehow. Then, though: “A Suburban.”

  “Oh, okay, then.” I rolled my eyes. God, his house probably had a white picket fence in front of it. I would have hated him, anywhere else. “Who even are you?”

  “Who are you?” Alex countered. “Hmm? Mysterious Dana Cartwright.”

  I laughed. “I am not mysterious.”

  “You are, though,” Alex said, and I didn’t know what to say to that, exactly. Upstairs, cigarette lady went back inside. I was getting ready to leave for real when Alex stood up all at once. “I’m gonna swim,” he said decisively. “You coming?”

  “What?” I said, gawking at him. It had to be almost two in the morning by now. A hot, stuffy wind rustled the fronds of the palm trees overhead. “Right this minute? Absolutely not.”

  “What are you, scared you’re gonna get in trouble?” he teased.

  No, I’m afraid I’m going to break my best friend’s damn heart. “Okay,” I said, standing up to look him in the eye, though even at my full height, my forehead was only about level to his chin. “You of all people are not calling me chickenshit.”

  “Why me of all people?” Alex asked, taking both my hands this time. I didn’t pull away. My heart was a hummingbird inside my chest, a constant shallow thrumming; I smelled concrete and chlorine and boy. “What is it about me in particular that makes it so especially ridiculous?”

  “Well, you drive a Suburban, to start.”

  “This from the girl who aspires to own a mom-mobile.”

  “Oh, you’re a comedian.” I let go of his hands to flip him a double bird, but I was smiling. A hot, humid breeze ambled across the back of my neck. “And you’re a rule-follower, is why it’s ridiculous. I can already tell.” He was, too. I wasn’t just giving him a hard time for the fun of it. He was the kind of person who’d never had a reason not to be. He probably got straight A’s at school and still asked the teacher for extra credit.

  Alex tipped his head at that, like, fair enough. “Sometimes,” he admitted, reaching back behind him and pulling his T-shirt off in one fast, fluid motion. “Not always.”

  I glanced at him, glanced up at the apartment.

  Glanced back.

  It wasn’t like I’d never seen a guy without his shirt on before—wasn’t like I’d never taken a guy’s shirt off myself—but something about seeing Alex half-naked unnerved me a little, his flat, smooth stomach and the sharp cut of his hip bones. There was a thin golden trail of hair that started just below his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. I felt my whole body flush.

  “You coming?” Alex asked, and jumped in.

  “No!” I said, then: “Damn it.” I huffed a noisy breath, then pulled off my T-shirt and hopped over the side of the pool with a quiet splash. When I surfaced he was staring at me.

  “Jesus, you’re pretty,” he said, and I rolled my eyes again. My bra was a screaming neon pink.

  “You are,” Alex said, taking a step closer. There were flecks of pool water in his eyelashes. “I know you think I’m corny and, like, southern, but, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m southern, too,” I pointed out, ignoring the other part.

  “Dana,” he said, like I was being dense on purpose.

  “Alex,” I replied, mimicking his tone exactly. God, I had to go inside.

  Alex smiled almost bashfully. “You think I’m full of crap?” he asked.

  I thought about that for a moment. “No,” I admitted finally.

  “Come here,” he said, holding his hand out until I took it, pulling me through the cold water until my chest was right up against his.

  “Why?” I asked him as I went.

  “I want to do something.”

  “What?” I asked, even though I already knew what, knew exactly, and for the first time all night I wasn’t thinking about Olivia at all. I could feel the steam rising off Alex’s skin. When he kissed me, it was totally new and like something we’d already done a hundred times before, his soft tongue and the press of his shoulders and his fingers threaded through mine underneath the water, both of us holding on tight tight tight. Up above us, the purple sky stretched out to infinity, too much light from the city to see any stars.

  ELEVEN

  I woke up the next morning with a pit in my stomach the size of the Grand Canyon, a cold, damp gust of guilt yawning through. I stared at the ceiling for a long time while I waited for Olivia to wake up, trying to think about anything but Alex, about last night in the pool. About the way he’d looked at me like I was so valuable, like I was a rare, precious thing.

  It didn’t matter, I told myself firmly. It wasn’t going to happen again. I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who’d kiss the guy her best friend liked. I felt like a piece of crap. I’d tell her first thing this morning, I’d apologize like hell, and then we could move on. That would be that.

  Finally, I couldn’t wait another second: “Liv,” I said softly. “Olivia, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

  Olivia stirred, her dark hair a curtain across her face. “Hmm?” she mumbled into the pillow, but before she could lift her head, there was Charla’s sharp rap at the bedroom door.

  “Up and at ’em, ladies! Breakfast in five!”

  Olivia’s eyes popped open then, one smooth movement as she flung the covers back, stretched, and headed for the bathroom. “Morning!” she called to me over her shoulder. I flopped back onto my pillow, all my momentum lost at once. I’d tell her tonight, then, I promised myself. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, after all—just one kiss, a stupid mistake, temporary insanity.

  Right?

  Lucas was in a particularly crummy mood that day, the frown lines in his face so deep you could have planted a row of corn in them. For once it wasn’t just me, either—he yelled at Olivia for the way she was holding her shoulders, snarked at Kristin until she was on the verge of tears.

  “Don’t worry, teacher’s pet,” I said to Olivia as we packed up our stuff and headed down the hallway toward the exit. Her mouth had gone thin and pale the way it always did when she was upset; I wanted to cheer her up. “He’s on me like that every day, and I’m still here.”

  “For now,” Kristin said behind me, not quite under her breath.

  That stopped me. I whirled around to face her, eyes wide. “Whoa.” It was the first time she’d said anything like that to me—and sure, I’d assumed she was thinking it, but it was a whole other thing to hear it out loud. Right away I was spoiling for a fight. “I’m sorry?”

  Kristin looked like she was about to say something else—and Good, I thought, let’s get into it—but the boys spilled out of their own rehearsal just then, the whole noisy scrum of them, Mikey singing a loud, warbly version of a Sting song: “Roxanne,” he wailed, “you don’t have to put on your red dress.”

  “It’s red light,” Trevor corrected, ambling down the hallway after him. “She doesn’t have to put out the red light.”

  “What? That makes no sense,” Mikey argued. “It’s her red dress, you know, her prostitutin’ dress.”

  “No, it’s the red—”

  “Ladies,” Austin said, interrupting their argument. “How’s your day been?”

  “Living the dream,” Olivia said, all smiles all of a sudden, but I barely heard her. I barely heard any of them, because Alex was looking at me—not a general look, the way one normal person would look at another normal person, but a very specific kind of look, the kind of look that could have given both of us away in half a second. His cheeks were flushed from rehearsing. My face was on fire from what Kristin had said.
It was all too much, this whole entire summer was; I had to get out of here.

  “Come on,” I said, slinging my arm around Olivia and steering her toward the parking lot. “I’m starved.”

  “Can you believe that?” I asked Olivia when we got back to the apartment, shutting the door to our room and flinging myself onto the mattress. “When have I ever been anything but nice to that girl? To her face, anyway.”

  Olivia smiled. “She didn’t mean it,” she said, sitting down on her own bed and pulling her lyrics binder out of her shoulder bag. “It’s been a rough day for everybody.”

  “It’s been a rough day for her face,” I said, grimacing; Olivia laughed for real then, which was what I’d been going for in the first place. “Hey,” I said, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread. I’d spent the whole day trying to push Alex out of my mind, but seeing him made it obvious I needed to tell Olivia what had happened. “Can I talk to you a sec?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Olivia nodded, tucking her bare feet underneath her. The room smelled like hair spray and body mist. “Actually, okay, I wanted to talk to you, too. I was making a list of a bunch of vocal exercises you should try.”

  I snorted. “Really?”

  “Yeah!” Olivia flipped to the front of her binder, pulling a sheet of paper out of the front pocket and handing it to me. “They’re stuff my voice coach had me do back at home when I was just getting started. They’re really helpful.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. I scanned the page, which was filled with Olivia’s cramped, arthritic-looking cursive. She’d divided them up into categories, each with its own underlined heading: Breathing, Pitch, Ear Training, Posture. I felt the anxiety swell up in my chest just looking at the list. “You think I need all these?”

  “Yeah, no, I think you should try them!” Olivia urged. “It’ll help. Here, stand up.”

  I blinked. “What, now?”

  “Do you have a better time?”