by Nicola Yoon
Martin hands her his handkerchief. “No crying,” he says. “We still have summer.”
She wipes her tears but then sniffles some more. “Olivia asked me out,” she says.
“Our valedictorian Olivia?” Martin asks.
She nods. “Did you know she’s going to Stanford too?”
We did not know that.
“And did you say yes?” I ask.
“Yup,” she says with a small smile. She looks around the yard for a second and then turns back to us. “Did you guys see Cassidy?” she asks.
“Yeah. Her parents came,” says Martin.
“That’s good,” she says.
I decide against telling her about Cassidy’s trip to Asia. Their lives are separate now.
The three of us hug again. I wish Cassidy were here. I want one last Sunday at Surf City Waffle with the four of us. I want one more bonfire. One more Tipsy Philosophical.
But I can’t have that. I think back to the day I made up with them at Cassidy’s house. I remember how we hugged right before I left. We were all full of waffles and the sun was bright and we smelled like sunscreen and pool.
Mom said just because a thing ends doesn’t make the thing any less real. Just because everything is different now doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other once. Maybe we will again.
CHAPTER 57
Two Dresses
DANICA KNOCKS ON my door the Friday night before Dad’s wedding. She’s holding two dresses. One is a simple lavender sheath trimmed with lace. The other is a complicated teal-blue-and-silver mermaidlike thing.
At first, I think she brought the lavender one for me, since it’s my kind of dress. “Dani, I haven’t changed my mind,” I say.
“No, I want you to help me choose,” she says.
I eye both dresses again, not sure why she’s asking me to decide. Teal is her favorite color, and complicated is her favorite style.
I choose the teal one.
“Thanks,” she says, and hangs the dresses on the back of my door. She sits down on the edge of my bed. I scoot over to give her more room.
“I broke up with Archer,” she says.
She looks sad but not devastated. “How come?” I ask.
She gathers her hair into one hand and then lets it loose again. “It just wasn’t that much fun anymore. Every time we were together, I just wanted to be with my other friends. I kinda think he felt the same way.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. And then I have a thought. “This might be too soon to ask…but how long do you think it’ll take you to get over Archer?” I ask.
“A few days. Why?”
“You know my friend Martin?”
“Of course.”
“He’s liked you since the dawn of time.”
“He has?”
“Come on, you must’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Her eyes are smiling. “I wasn’t sure.”
“You think he’s cute,” I say, taking a guess.
“I think he’s…interesting,” she says, with a grin. “I’ve never seen so much tweed on a teenage boy in my entire life.”
I laugh and laugh. Of course she would notice the way he dresses.
“How come you never went for him?”
Her smile dims. “He’s your friend. I didn’t think you’d like it if we got together.”
She’s right. I wouldn’t have liked it. I would’ve been afraid of what a relationship between them would mean for my friendship with Martin. We wouldn’t be as close anymore. I’d be on the outside.
But as much as I want to, I can’t stop the world from changing. Time passes. People change. Lives move on.
“I think you and Martin would be great together.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Really, truly,” I say.
She scoots closer and lays her head on my shoulder. Her hair tickles my nose. “Can I ask you something without you getting mad at me?” she asks.
“I can’t predict the future,” I say.
“Come on, promise me,” she insists.
“Fine, fine, I promise.”
“How come you changed your mind again about going to Dad’s wedding?”
I don’t have an answer for her, not really. The wedding just felt like too much, too many complicated emotions to deal with on top of everything that happened with X.
The last time I saw Dad was at graduation. Afterward he took me to Mariscos Chente for lunch. He decided our valedictorian was a genius and riffed on cheesy puns until my sides hurt from laughing too much. He even managed to combine a Mexican-food pun with a cheese one.
Q: Why should you always bring a bag of tortilla chips to a party?
A: In queso emergency.
He didn’t ask me again to go to the wedding and he didn’t call me sweet pea. For the first time I saw what our relationship could be like at some point in the future.
Danica picks her head up from my shoulder. “At least tell me why you’re so mad at him. Is it only because he left?” she whispers.
“What do you mean?”
She stares at me for a long time, scared of something. “You don’t think he and Shirley got together before—”
I know what she’s asking. She’s asking if he had an affair. I think about what knowing the truth has done to me. I think of what it would do to Danica.
Some illusions don’t need shattering.
I shake my head and hold her eyes. I am completely and totally convincing. “No way,” I say. “Dad would never do that.”
Her relief is acute, and I feel like a good big sister.
“You should come to the wedding,” she says again.
“Why?”
“Because he’s our dad and he loves us and he’s getting married to someone he loves and we should celebrate that with him.”
It’s so simple for her.
“Also, it’ll be easier if we do it together,” she says.
I look up at her and understand that this whole thing has been harder for her than I realized.
“Okay,” I say. “But I don’t have a dress.”
“How about that one?” she says pointing to the lavender one, the one I liked better.
I shake my head. “You didn’t need my help choosing a dress at all, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Your plan when you came in here was to get me to go to the wedding, wasn’t it?”
She laughs an evil laugh and tumbles off the bed before I can catch her. “Yup,” she says.
“Okay,” I say once I’ve stopped laughing. “Okay, I’ll go.”
CHAPTER 58
Answers
I WAKE UP the next morning knowing I have apologies to make. I ride my bike over to the studio and haul it—one last time—to the top of the stairs. Fifi is in the reception booth, explaining something about how to sign clients up for lessons to a woman sitting at the computer.
As soon as she sees me, her eyes go wide and then narrow again. “Oh, look who it is. The vanishing dancing queen.” She quick-steps it out of the booth, stops about a foot away from me and folds her arms. “Did not think I would see you again.” She’s not just being her usual Fifi self. I hurt her feelings.
I take a step toward her. “Fi, I’m sorry for running off and for not calling and for not saying thank you. I’m really sorry.”
She sniffs and taps her heels and considers. “Not nice to abandon people who care about you,” she says.
“I know. I’m really sorry, Fi,” I say again.
Finally, she smiles. “I’m glad to see you. Will not ask why you ran away from dance like girl who lost shoe in fairy tale,” she says.
By “will not ask” she means she’s about to ask me.
Lucky for me, Archibald and Maggie come gli
ding down the hallway.
“Well, isn’t this a wonderful surprise,” Maggie says, wrapping me in her rose-garden hug. “Has Fifi filled you in on all the wonderful things that have happened?”
“Most important news is that we hire real receptionist,” Fifi says, pointing her thumb at the woman in the reception booth. “Already, I throw away infernal ding-ding-ding,” she says, jabbing at her own hand to demonstrate how the desk bell worked.
Archibald laughs. “Fortunately, that’s not the only good news,” he says. I forgot just how much his eyes twinkle when he talks. “Enrollment is up forty percent since Danceball. Next week LA Weekly is sending a reporter to do a photo shoot and an interview.”
“That’s incredible,” I say, and I mean it. It’s great to hear that something good came out of this experience.
“It’s all thanks to you, dear,” Maggie says. She means thanks to me and X, of course, but she’s too considerate to mention it. I wonder what X has told her about our breakup.
We talk for a little while about my plans for the rest of summer and NYU in the fall. I promise to stop by to visit before I leave and to find a place to keep dancing in New York. And then it’s time for me to go.
Archibald and Maggie hug me one more time before going back into the heart of the studio. Impulsively, I hug Fifi, and she surprises me by hugging me back and holding on tight. “You are very good dancer,” she whispers into my ear. “I was proud to teach you.” I can’t prove it, but I swear I see something like tears in her eyes when she pulls away.
Just as I’m about to leave, I spot the Instructions for Dancing book sitting in the back corner of the reception booth, where Fifi tossed it the first time I came here.
My heart trips. I know it’s not a coincidence that I’m seeing the book right now. I know I’m supposed to see it.
“Hey, Fi, can I take that book?” I ask, pointing at it.
She gets it and hands it to me through the reception window. “Of course,” she says, “but is very silly. Cannot learn to dance from a book.”
“I know, but it led me here, right?” I flip to the page with the La Brea Dance address on it. It seems like a lifetime ago that I walked in here hoping I was going to learn whatever lesson I needed to learn to get rid of the visions. The Evie that walked in here that day thought she understood how unfair life could be, and how painful. That Evie had absolutely no idea.
I put the book into my backpack and take one last look around. Down the hallway, in front of studio five, I see Archibald pull Maggie into a twirl. At first I think that they have no idea how lucky they are. But then I study the look on both their faces, a combination of wonder and certainty, and I know I’m wrong. They know exactly how lucky they are.
* * *
——
It takes me barely any time at all to get to the Hancock Park neighborhood. The street, when I find it, is still overflowing with jasmine bushes and jacaranda trees. The Little Free Library is still next to the big sycamore tree.
I get off my bike, flip down the kickstand and walk over to the library. All my books, including Cupcakes and Kisses, are still inside. The memory of X texting me as he read it makes me want to laugh and also to never laugh again.
I take Instructions for Dancing out of my backpack and stuff it inside.
“Hello, Evie,” says a voice from behind me.
I never told her my name, but really, how she knows my name is the least mysterious thing to happen to me in months.
I whirl around. Her face is the same as I remember: weathered brown paper.
“Why did you do this to me? How did you expect me to feel, watching people get their hearts broken over and over again?”
She smiles at me. It’s a gentle smile, an understanding one.
I don’t know if a smile has ever made me angrier.
I’m mad at her for cursing me with this terrible power.
I’m mad at whatever force created a world where we are born to love and also to watch the people we love die.
People who say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all have never really loved anyone and never really lost anyone either.
I want answers. I want to know—I want her to tell me—how I’m supposed to live without my heart inside my body.
My anger leaves me all at once. I just want to know why. “Why did you give me the power to see heartbreak? Please tell me.”
“But that’s not the power I gave you,” she says.
“What, then?”
“I gave you the power to see love. The heartbreak is just one part of it. It’s not the all of it. Why did you only focus on the ending?”
“Because it’s the most important part.”
“Is it?” she asks. “It wasn’t supposed to be a curse, Evie. It was supposed to be a gift.”
I start to cry and I’m sure that I will never stop. When I come back to myself, she’s still standing next to me.
“Will the visions go away?”
“Yes,” she says.
“When?” I ask, even though I know she won’t give me a straight answer.
“When you’re ready.”
I get on my bike.
“Take care of yourself, Evie,” she says as I ride away. And just like the first time, when I get to the end of the street and turn to look, she’s no longer there.
Dad’s wedding doesn’t start for another three hours. I wander through the streets on my bike. There are fewer petals on the jacaranda trees and jasmine bushes. The wet green smell of spring has been replaced by summer’s bright and smoky one.
I don’t know how long I ride around, only that it’s more time than I think it is, and less too. I keep hearing the old woman’s voice in my head.
It wasn’t supposed to be a curse.
I think back to all the visions I’ve seen.
There’s more love in each and every one than there is heartbreak.
When I get home, Danica does my makeup and lends me a chunky vintage necklace to go with the lavender dress. We kiss Mom goodbye and tell her we love her. She promises me she’s okay.
In the cab, I squeeze Danica’s hand. “I’m glad we’re doing this together,” I tell her.
“Me too,” she says.
CHAPTER 59
Do Us Part
AT THE CHURCH, it’s almost embarrassing how happy Dad is to see me.
More sweet than embarrassing, though.
He picks me up and spins me around. “I’m so thrilled you’re here, sweet pea.” He puts me back down. “Sorry, I keep forgetting not to—”
“No, it’s okay. You can call me that.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head. For a second it looks like he’s praying. He pulls me into another hug and squeezes tight. I squeeze him right back.
“Group hug,” yells Danica, who’s been hovering in the doorway.
By the time we’re done hugging, all three of us are a mess of tears.
Dani grabs my chin in one hand and clucks at me. We find a bathroom, and she pulls a mini emergency makeup kit from her purse. She operates on herself before operating on me. I check the mirror once she’s done. She’s a miracle worker. I am saved.
By the time we make it out to where everyone is, the pastor is already at the altar. We take our seats next to Aunt Collette.
And then it’s time.
The music begins. Dad walks up the aisle and takes his place in front of the pastor. His best man, Uncle Allan, and Shirley’s maid of honor are next. Then it’s Shirley’s mom, walking by herself. Next it’s Shirley’s bridesmaids, all ten of them. Once everyone is settled at the altar, the music stops.
Dad stares down the aisle, waiting.
Uncle Allan squeezes his shoulder.
Another few seconds pass before the wedding march begins. Ev
eryone turns to look.
Except me. I watch Dad’s face instead. I don’t need to see Shirley to know when she’s arrived. I can see her presence on Dad’s face. He looks like someone who just can’t believe his luck.
Shirley reaches the altar and takes Dad’s hand. She looks beautiful. And also like a tiered cake.
As weddings go, this one is pretty traditional. The vows are the normal ones. They promise to love and obey. They promise to do it forever. There are some readings. Shirley’s mom sings a gospel song I don’t know. Her voice is beautiful.
The priest pronounces them man and wife. He tells Dad that he may kiss the bride.
I have a few seconds to decide.
I can choose to see their future.
I can choose to see how it ends, and maybe even when.
But at the last second, I close my eyes.
I close my eyes, and I pretend they have forever.
* * *
——
The reception is in a hotel ballroom twenty minutes away. Dani and I take the wedding shuttle together, along with Aunt Collette and Uncle Allan. I drink sparkling cider, eat hors d’oeuvres and listen to Dani critique the dresses of all the women in a kind way. She tells me the history of marriage as an institution. Mostly it sucked for women.
After a while, the wedding band gets everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Larry Thomas.”
I have a moment where my heart breaks for Mom, the original Mrs. Thomas. But then I remember that she did what was best for everyone, including herself.
And then everyone is clapping and hooting.
Shirley is crying and Dad is wiping her tears. He tells her that he loves her and that he always will.
All that matters is that he feels it now.
All that matters is right now.
I turn to Dani. “I have to go,” I say.
* * *
——
In romance books there’s always a chase scene. It happens near the end, when one person realizes they’ve made a colossal mistake and then has to go through a series of obstacles to get back to the other person.