“Wow,” Zoe said. “We just need Whitney . . . and who else?”
“Whitney Montaine?” Nadine asked. “She’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Mia Flint,” Gregor said to get off the subject of Whitney. Over the winter it had felt like he and Whitney were becoming friends, but as soon as Gregor had gotten together with Nadine, she’d turned chilly. She barely even talked to him anymore.
“Remember the letters?” Zoe asked.
“Oh yeah,” Gregor said. He vaguely recalled writing about Whitney. Of course he had.
“What letters?” Nadine asked, grabbing for the Dr Pepper drink.
Jake raised his eyebrows at Zoe and then nodded at Gregor. It seemed like he was trying to signal them to keep it quiet.
“Nothing,” Gregor said quickly.
“No letters,” Jake added.
The prom theme was “My Heart Will Go On.” That was a song from a movie called Titanic. The ballroom was decked out with porthole windows and ocean-liner images and choppy waves cut out of paper.
Gregor was sitting at his table by the lifeboats, picking at a dinner roll and thinking about how the shipwreck theme was demented. More than fifteen hundred people died when the Titanic sunk. It was like having a 9/11 prom.
“Why aren’t you dancing?”
Whitney was standing above him in a knockout silver dress, her skin smooth, her hair twisted back. She’d already kicked off her shoes and was pushing up onto her toes like a ballerina.
“I was dancing,” Gregor said.
“For, like, one song. I saw you.”
Whitney slid into the empty chair next to Gregor and fiddled with a prom program on the table. Gregor sipped his water. He considered asking who her date was, but he couldn’t handle it if she said she had a boyfriend.
“Can you believe the theme is Titanic?” Whitney said. “Isn’t that depressing?”
“I was just thinking the same thing!”
They both laughed. Maybe it was true, that tragedy plus time equaled comedy. Or maybe tragedy plus Whitney made everything okay. Man, he still loved her. No denying it.
Whitney folded the prom program into a fortune-teller like people used to make back in third grade.
“I filled out my roommate forms for NYU,” she said.
“What did you say?”
Whitney reached into her small purse and took out a pen. “I wrote that I’m into the drama thing and I’m neat but not OCD. What about you? Did you decide where you’re going?”
Gregor downed the rest of his water. “Manhattan School of Music.”
Whitney’s eyes widened. She began writing on the fortune-teller. Celine Dion was singing a slow song. Gregor could see Nadine wrapped around a junior guy, her hands massaging his butt.
“Do you realize we’ll be in the same city this fall?” Whitney asked.
“Yes.”
Whitney looked at Gregor, her hazel eyes staring into his, and he felt it like he’d never felt anything that clearly in his life. Whitney liked him back.
“Pick a color,” Whitney said, scooping the fortune-teller onto her fingers. “Green, red, blue, or yellow.”
“Green.”
Whitney spelled out g-r-e-e-n and moved the points of the paper with each letter.
“Now pick a number,” she said, “one through eight.”
“Six.”
She opened and closed the paper points six times.
“Now ask a question,” she said. “It has to be a yes-or-no question, and after you ask it, you pick another number. You can pick one, three, five, or seven.”
Gregor’s hands were trembling. There was only one question he wanted to ask.
“You’re not together with Nadine anymore, are you?” Whitney said suddenly.
Gregor shook his head.
“Ask a question,” Whitney said quietly. “And pick a number. One, three, five, or seven.”
“Can I kiss you?” Gregor asked. “Three.”
Whitney counted to three and then carefully pried open a fold of paper.
She smiled at Gregor. “All signs point to yes.”
JUNE
JAKE
Ted: What’s up?
Jake: Not much. Countdown to graduation. Doing some art.
Ted: I don’t know how else to say this. I basically suck.
Ted: And I’m sorry.
Ted: And I still love you.
Ted: You can say you hate me. I’d deserve it.
Ted: Jake, are you there?
Jake: Yeah. I’m just trying not to die.
Ted: Don’t die. I’ll be over to resuscitate. Are you home?
Jake: Huh?
Ted: I’m walking to my car.
Jake: Are you going to destroy my heart again? If so, you shouldn’t come.
Ted: I’m driving over.
WHITNEY
WHITNEY HAD NEVER thought about happily-ever-after before, but that was what this felt like. Ever since she and Gregor had gotten together, every cliché in the world was her life. Meant to be. Match made in heaven. They joked that they should write cheesy greeting cards together.
She’d be wriggling on a dress or driving to school or shaving her legs, and she couldn’t stop smiling. For one, it was amazing to fool around with Gregor. They went to her mom’s house after school and kissed and moved against each other until they came. They texted nonstop, and he played cello for her on the phone every night to help her fall asleep. Her mom thought Gregor was adorable, especially when he taught them how to open the pool at their new house. Her dad said he seemed intelligent. Even Alicia said Gregor was her best yet, which was major coming from her sister. Alicia hadn’t brought up the fact that Gregor was white, and honestly, being with Gregor affirmed what Whitney felt about race. She didn’t want race to define her. She didn’t want to be with a black guy just because he was black, just like she didn’t want to be with Gregor because he was white. She wanted to love someone for who they were.
It was love. Yep. They’d said it.
After they’d been together three weeks, Gregor admitted to Whitney that he’d loved her since freshman orientation, that he was the one who brought her the teddy bear in the hospital, that she was his dream girl.
“You should have told me,” Whitney said. They were sitting on her deck eating strawberries and pretending to study for finals. “High school would have been so much better if we’d been together.”
“I don’t think we were ready,” Gregor said. “For sure I wasn’t.”
Whitney tried to remember what she’d thought of him at the beginning of ninth grade, but it was hazy. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if they’d talked.
“Anyway, we have next year,” Gregor said. “We’ll both be in New York City.”
“The future is ours,” Whitney said.
Gregor laughed. “Another one for the cheesy card business.”
“Oh my god!” Kyra set down her phone and clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d painted her fingernails black in honor of the senior prank. “Oh my fucking god.”
Whitney glanced at Gregor. He was slicing open a sandbag and spilling it onto the floor outside the principal’s office. He was the one who’d come up with the idea of making a beach scene for the senior prank. It was ten at night, five days before graduation. Kyra had snuck the key from her dad and let them all into the school.
“What is it?” Autumn asked, tossing a rainbow beach ball to Whitney.
“My dad thinks I’m at your house. Anyway, he just texted me. I have to say it again,” Kyra said. “Oh my fucking god!”
Whitney clenched her jaw. This time Gregor caught her eye. It’s okay, she could feel him saying. Don’t let Kyra get to you.
“Kyra,” Zach said, swigging a beer. “Either tell us what Daddy the Principal said or shut up already.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shouldn’t be telling you guys, but you know how Zoe’s mom is Sierra Laybourne? Well . . . guess who’s coming to graduation? Her manager got in touch
with my dad to talk about security issues. She’s staying at the Hilton, where the prom was.”
“Oh my god!” Autumn squealed.
Whitney blew up another beach ball. She had to admit, it was cool that they were having a movie star at graduation. The final student council meeting was tomorrow, and graduation was on the agenda. Maybe Whitney should ask Jake to ask Zoe if Sierra could make a speech.
“Isn’t Sierra Laybourne in rehab?” Zach asked. He set down his beer and burped loudly. “I thought she was a crazy alcoholic.”
“Shut up,” Whitney said, plugging a beach ball and rolling it onto the sand. At least Zoe wasn’t here, but it was still uncool to talk about someone’s mom like that.
Kyra giggled. “Maybe they’re letting her out for the day?”
“If she shows up wasted,” Zach said, “I’m taking pictures and selling them for a ton of money.”
Whitney squeezed her fingers into fists. Enough was enough. “You guys are—”
“Whit.” Gregor took her hand and pulled her down the hall.
“But they’re being assholes,” Whitney said. She was shaking all over. She tried to remember what Jude had told her to do when Kyra and the others were getting to her. Breathe. Step away. Count slowly backward. It was just so hard. She still hadn’t told Gregor that she saw a therapist. She was planning to tell him soon. She knew she could trust him with that kind of stuff.
Gregor wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “They are assholes. But you’re so much better than them.”
“You’re saying don’t go there?”
“I’m saying they don’t matter.”
“But—”
Gregor’s lips were on hers. She breathed him in. She didn’t care what Gregor said. High school would have been ten thousand times better if they’d been together.
JAKE
“I WAS THINKING we should all meet up,” Jake said to Whitney as they stepped through the heavy doors of school and into the harsh noonday sunlight. He’d just run into her in the hall. Jake had come to turn in his keys to the student council office and to empty his locker. Whitney must have done the same, because they were both carrying Hefty bags in their arms.
“All who?” Whitney asked, squinting up at Jake. Something about her seemed different. She usually wore a lot of makeup and dressy clothes, but now she was in shorts and a T-shirt, her long hair pulled into a ponytail. Jake thought she looked better, more relaxed.
“Our freshman orientation group,” Jake said, remembering back to that day in the gym almost four years ago. “You, me, Gregor—”
“And Mia Flint and Zoe!” Whitney squealed. “Those letters! We made that promise to meet at graduation and read them.”
“I think Zoe will do it. She hates being a joiner, and she’ll probably bitch and moan, but I’ll convince her. I’ve never told anyone about those letters. I like it being a secret.”
Whitney shook her head. “That’s so weird. I still remember when I wrote my letter.”
“Me too.” Jake paused. He’d been wanting to tell Whitney something for a while and now, two days before graduation, seemed like a good time. “You sort of saved me, by the way. I’ve always meant to thank you for that.”
Whitney shifted her plastic bag into her other arm. “Saved you? How?”
“Remember when you helped me run for junior class treasurer? You got me all those signatures and convinced people to vote for me? I really wanted to be on student council but couldn’t have done it myself.”
Whitney shook her head. “I feel like I used you to beat Zach. Was I bitchy back then? I hope I wasn’t too much of a bitch.”
“No, never.” Jake pushed his hair out of his eyes. He’d been thinking about cutting it short before college, but Ted had begged him not to. He said he loved Jake’s hair. But Ted also said he’d love Jake even if he was a baldie.
They crossed the small street to the student parking lot. The ice cream man was parked at the curb, selling Popsicles to the younger kids who’d just handed in their last final.
“So, you want to plan to meet after graduation?” Jake asked. “You can ask Gregor, right?”
Whitney slipped her phone out of her purse. “I’m texting him now. I also have Mia Flint’s number.”
Jake remembered that time Mia knocked on his front door. He still had her number from then. “Okay . . . or I can ask Mia.”
“Either way.” Whitney shrugged. “By the way, I heard that you and Ted got back together. You two are so adorable.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. Even hearing Ted’s name made his stomach flip. People say there isn’t a one and only, but Jake wasn’t so sure. “I’m being more careful this time.”
“Really?”
“Honestly . . . no. I don’t want to be more careful.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Whitney laughed. “I can’t imagine being careful about Gregor. Hey, I wish we hung out more in high school. Why didn’t we?”
“I was hiding,” Jake said thoughtfully.
“Me too.”
“You?”
“In my own way.”
Hearing that made Jake wonder if they’d all been in hiding, if he hadn’t been the only one who’d felt alone for so much of high school.
ZOE
ZOE PULLED INTO the parking lot of the Hilton and shifted into park. She breathed in through her nose and out slowly through her mouth. Her mom had taken a private jet from Los Angeles and landed this afternoon. All Zoe had to do was get through dinner with Sierra, and then she was going to meet up with Anna and Jake.
Her windows were rolled down, and the music was pumping. The air smelled so sweet and grassy that Zoe couldn’t help but feel happy. She loved the air in Hankinson, a summer night, a smoky fall, a wet and earthy spring. After four years this finally felt like home.
She checked her makeup in the mirror and then reached onto the passenger seat for the cooler. She and her mom were going to eat dinner in the hotel suite, just some salads that Zoe had made. Even though Max didn’t come on this trip, he’d orchestrated everything. He suggested the idea of eating in the room rather than dealing with the publicity of going to a restaurant. Max had said it was about publicity, but Zoe figured it was because of her mom’s drinking. He didn’t want any viral videos.
As Zoe walked across the parking lot, the Hilton was a giant rectangular shadow in front of her. Last month she and Dinky went to the prom here and killed it on the dance floor. Dinky. They had tickets to a few concerts this summer, and Dinky was taking her camping before he left for college and she started her cooking classes. That was Zoe’s plan for fall, to take a Mediterranean cooking class and a class in pastry arts. She’d also do her music and live with Aunt Jane while she formulated a real plan. Whatever that meant.
Zoe’s mom met her at the door of the suite.
“Honey,” she said, touching Zoe’s cheeks with both her hands. There was a small bluish stain on the front of her white shirt, which was strange. Her mom hated stains. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been so long. Can you believe you’re graduating tomorrow?”
Zoe smiled stiffly as she unzipped the cooler and began setting the table with salad containers and paper plates and a thermos of unsweetened iced tea. She’d just seen her mom two weeks ago when she’d flown to LA for Memorial Day weekend.
“Fancy food,” her mom murmured. “You’re going to be the star of your cooking classes.”
It was obvious her mom had been drinking and it wasn’t in moderation, but Zoe was going to force herself to get through dinner. In two hours Jake and Anna were coming over to her place, and JAZ was going to have a three-person party. It was the first time Zoe was trying alcohol. The irony wasn’t lost on Zoe or Anna, but Jake promised he wouldn’t let them become alcoholics. Zoe actually thought it made sense to try alcohol, to prove that her mom’s demons didn’t have to be her own.
Jake had gotten vodka from someone Ted knew, and he was bringing snacks and he’d even made a p
laylist. Around eight he was picking up Anna, and they’d drive over to Zoe’s. At midnight Ted—who promised he’d be sober—would show up and chauffeur Jake and Anna home. When Jake and Ted had started dating again, Zoe was wary. But as soon as she saw them together, it all made sense. It was obvious they were in love.
“It’s strange being in central New York.” Sierra sipped the iced tea that Zoe had poured into two hotel glasses. “I said I’d never return . . . even on location. Tomorrow morning, right after graduation, I’m taking a plane back.”
“When’s the last time you were here?” Zoe asked. Her mom had never come to visit her. For the past four years Zoe had done all the traveling. And now that her mom had finally made it to Hankinson, she was leaving within twenty-four hours. In a way that was okay. Zoe wasn’t exactly looking forward to the crowds that would swarm her mom tomorrow morning.
Her mom’s cheeks were flushed in two perfect circles, like a Raggedy Ann doll. “One Precious was filmed a few hours north. That’s the last time.”
“Seriously? Why didn’t you come back after that?” Zoe crossed one leg over the other and tugged at a thread on her skirt. She wondered if it had to do with her grandparents who’d died. Maybe being in this area, so close to where she’d grown up, reminded Sierra too much of that tragedy.
When her mom didn’t respond, Zoe said, “Aunt Jane is driving you to graduation. She’ll pick you up here in the morning.”
“Is Rich going to be there?” her mom asked.
Zoe nodded. They’d gotten a graduation ticket for Aunt Jane’s ex-husband. He said he wanted to be there. Zoe wanted him there. After he’d helped her write the music for “You, Me, Together,” they’d been jamming on the piano every week or so.
“Now that’s funny,” her mom said. She downed her iced tea and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
Zoe’s stomach clenched, but she was determined to act like things were normal. She was not going to let her mom get to her. “My cousin David and his girlfriend, Tamara, are driving up from Brooklyn,” she said. “That’s where they live now.”
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