Even in Paradise

by Chelsey Philpot

  I got up, grabbing my backpack from underneath the table and slinging it over one shoulder. “You coming?” I asked Jacqueline, who had opened her textbook again.

  “Nah, I have free period.” She glanced up at me. “You’re not the least bit curious about this girl?”

  I shrugged my shoulders, rattling my glass against the china plate as my tray jiggled. “Julia’s nice and she has a really messy room. That’s all I know about her.”

  “Charlotte, you’re too much.” Jacqueline propped her legs up on the chair next to her and settled her textbook on her knees.

  I followed the path in the hardwood floor that had been scuffed to dullness by years and years of St. Anne’s girls rushing in and out and shoved my tray on the dish room conveyor belt, remembering with a shudder when my campus job had been working in the kitchen instead of the art gallery.

  Julia caught up to me when I was halfway across the quad. “Where’s the fire, Charlie?”

  “Who?” I asked as I stopped and faced her.

  “Charlie; do you mind if I call you Charlie? It suits you more than Charlotte,” Julia said. She had her hands on her hips and a faint line of sweat at her hairline. “You walk really fast, you know?”

  “Sure, I guess—”

  Julia interrupted me. “Look, I’m sorry about Piper the other day. Her parents put liquid evil in her bottle or something. She’ll behave next time. I promise.”

  “Next time?” I said. “I thought I . . . it’s been three days. I thought you were mad at me—”

  “Actually,” Julia said, “Aloysius was wondering if you wanted to come hang out.” She turned her back toward me so I could see the stuffed moose hanging half out of her black canvas bag. “In fact, he would like it very much. He was telling me.” Strands of hair escaped from her lopsided bun and stuck to her face. She swiped at them absentmindedly.

  I laughed. “I can’t believe you carry him around. Please explain to Aloysius that I have a Latin test.”

  Julia wrinkled her forehead. “Why would anyone learn a dead language?”

  I shrugged. “It’s beautiful.”

  She scrutinized me as if trying to gauge whether I was joking or not. She must have decided I wasn’t, because she nodded solemnly. “And that is why we are going to get along fabulously.”

  “How about after club period this afternoon?”

  She exhaled through the side of her mouth. “Meet me in the chapel.” She wrapped her arms around her ribs and turned to walk in the opposite direction, looking like she was heading into a cold wind instead of a warm spring day.

  BOSTONGLOBE.COM

  POLITICAL FAMILY LOSES BELOVED DAUGHTER

  Augustine Rose Buchanan, the daughter of Massachusetts State Senator Joseph Buchanan and his wife, philanthropist Teresa Buchanan, died early Sunday morning in car crash on Nantucket Island. She was 18 years old.

  “Gus,” as family and friends knew her, was a champion sailor. She was recently named a “Top 10 under 30” by Yacht Magazine. On the night of the crash, she had been celebrating her victory at a party following the Nantucket Regatta.

  “Gus was everything you want in an athlete,” said Tucker Carroll, Ms. Buchanan’s coach and family friend. “She was determined, smart, and generous. Losing her is a tremendous blow to the sport, but it’s devastating to those of us who knew her and loved her.”

  David Cross, 19, Ms. Buchanan’s boyfriend and the son of Cara and Jon Cross of Cross Farm on Cape Cod, and her sister Julia Buchanan, 14, were also in the car. Island police pronounced both Mr. Cross and Ms. Augustine Buchanan dead at the scene. Ms. Julia Buchanan was found miles from the accident site. A family member took her to Memorial Hospital, where she was kept overnight for a broken wrist, lacerations, and a concussion.

  A police investigation into the exact cause of the crash is ongoing. Alcohol and speed have not been ruled out.

  Senator Buchanan, who interrupted his gubernatorial campaign to join his family at their home on Nantucket Island, announced Ms. Augustine Buchanan’s death. Reading from a prepared statement, he said, “Gus was always the first to laugh at a joke, the first to think of a foolproof prank, and the first to be ready for adventure. She was talented, smart, and a devoted sister and daughter. During this difficult time, my wife, children, and I ask for your respect for our privacy even as we express our gratitude for the outpouring of support.”

  Ms. Augustine Buchanan leaves behind her parents; her sisters, Cordelia and Julia; and two brothers, Bradley and Sebastian. But she also leaves a promising life that was cut short far too soon.

  I printed out the article, folded it into an origami rose, and added it to my memory box.

  FOUR

  I LIKED THE CHAPEL BEST when it was empty. The ceiling went up and up and reminded me of the pictures Grandma Eve used to send from Europe of the Italian cathedrals. The rows of dark pews shone in the places where gripping hands had created half-moon indentations along the tops. The stained glass windows glowed. The dust in the air caught the soft afternoon sunlight in such a way that it looked like glitter as it drifted down. The damp air was infused with an earthy smell, as if the floor were made of dirt instead of scuffed marble.

  No matter how softly I tried to put down my sneakers to preserve the silence, I still created an echo as I made my way to the altar, which stood before a massive pipe organ that looked as if one note would be powerful enough to bring down the walls.

  “Julia,” I said, glancing in each row before arriving at the front. She wasn’t there.

  “Pssst.” Though Julia might have meant it to be a whisper, the sound vibrated through the massive space. “Over here.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She was here.

  “Julia?” I turned and walked toward the end of the first row of pews, bending down to run my fingers along the polished seat out of habit. The wood felt like the surface of a mirror under my fingertips.

  “Warmer,” she called. “Warmer. Hotter. Red hot.”

  At the massive pillar at the end of the row, I turned right and started moving toward the basement stairs.

  “Getting colder. Colder. Icy cold.”

  I backtracked to the front row. “You know,” I said, “this would go a whole lot faster if you just told me where you were.”

  Her giggle echoed off the walls, leading me to the pillar I had just passed. I wove around it. There in an alcove that could not have been more than four feet deep and four feet high, Julia sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest and Aloysius’s stuffed legs dangling out from her lap.

  “Extra, extra hot! Come on in,” she said, patting the floor as she scooted deeper into the little cave.

  I crouched down and crawled in beside her. The only way both of us could fit was if I pulled my legs tight enough to rest my chin on my knees and sat with my side completely touching hers. I was close enough to smell the fruit gum she was chewing and to see the loose threads along the hems of her jeans and shirt cuffs.

  “Cool, huh? Bet you didn’t know this was here.”

  “How did you—”

  “Shhhh.” Julia took Aloysius and pressed him against my lips. “Someone’s coming.” She dropped her hands and hugged him again.

  I rubbed my mouth against my arm trying to get bits of fake fur off my tongue. The sound of hesitant footsteps and the creak of wood as someone settled on a pew reached us.

  I stopped picking at the little fibers long enough to glance at Julia. She raised one eyebrow in response and put a finger to her lips. We sat in silence for nearly a minute before the visitor spoke.

  “God, I know you’re mighty busy. But if you could maybe . . .” The girl’s intake of breath was as audible as her prayer. “If you could just help me pass this one test, just get me through it. If you do that then I’ll go to church, I swear, every Sunday this summer. Swear. Amen.”

  Julia pressed her small, slightly sticky hand around my arm as soon as the girl stopped speaking and kept it th
ere after the thud of the massive front doors shutting boomed.

  “Awesome, right? The acoustics of this place are so amazing that even if someone is whispering in the middle it carries to this corner.”

  “How often do you sit here and listen to people pray?” I felt like I had just read pages from someone’s diary or taken a glance at a letter not addressed to me.

  Julia shrugged. “Sometimes you need to hide for a while. This is my hiding spot. Now it can be yours, too.” She released her grip on my arm and hugged her knees closer to her chest. Her dark hair was coming loose from the messy bun piled on top of her head, and I could feel strands of it drifting against my cheek. Though they tickled, I did not brush them away. “I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do.” I wiped at my mouth one more time, trying to catch the last threads of Aloysius’s fur. “I guess . . . I’m not sure why you would share it with me. I’m just a girl who gave you a T-shirt.”

  “Are you always so modest?”

  “Not when it’s true.” I tried to glance at her, but when I turned my head, my nose bumped her cheek, so I settled my chin back on my knees and waited. I was good at waiting.

  “The other day in my room you saw things in my sister’s picture . . . like that she was in love with David—”

  “I’m so sorry I said that stuff about your sister. I didn’t know that much about the accident and—”

  “I just mean that you noticed things that no one else would have. You’re wicked observant.”

  She pronounced “wicked” with a click, so I knew she was teasing me. I smiled to myself and waited for her to go on.

  “See, even right now, you’re just checking stuff out, watching, listening. You’re pretty much the opposite of most girls here.” I felt Julia’s hand gripping my right arm again. “That’s why I thought you’d like this place. You get it, Charlie.”

  I didn’t know what it was, but a sense of warmth that began where Julia held my arm spread through me.

  Julia let go and shifted, putting a sliver of space between us. “You know she went here, right? My sister, Gus, the one in the photo.”

  It suddenly felt like there was not enough air in our little cave. “Yeah. I heard that.”

  “When she went away to St. Anne’s, I was just a little kid. I cried for a week. That’s how badly I missed her.”

  “It must have been—”

  “But,” Julia continued as if she hadn’t heard me, “what made it worse was that once she went away she became a stranger. Even during the summer, she was so wrapped up in sailing and David, I barely got to see her.” Julia pressed one palm against the stone floor. “I like being here. Being where she went to school. It’s like I get a chance to know her better. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “You probably think I’m—”

  This time it was me who shushed her. The sound of rubber-soled shoes scuffing across marble made me reach out and put a hand across her mouth. I could feel her swallow her bubblegum and her warm breath against my palm.

  This time a man’s voice traveled to our cave. “Uh, Lord. I mean God.” He sounded much older than the girl. I pictured a gray-haired man sitting in the front pew, his head bowed and his hands clasped together on his lap.

  “I think you know this is a tough time for me.” His voice quivered. “I just miss her so damn much.” He was silent for long enough to make me wonder if he would speak again. “Just help me get through it, Lord. Just help me keep going. That’s all I’m praying for. Amen.”

  I waited until we heard the thud of the chapel door before I removed my hand. The man’s abrupt departure left as heavy a feeling in my stomach as his prayer. Julia moved even closer to me, settling Aloysius so he draped across our laps. It could have been two minutes or it could have been half an hour that we sat silently pressed together.

  It took the chapel bells chiming five times for me to wake from my thoughts. “We should probably get going. Formal dinner’s in an hour.” I braced a hand against the cool stone wall and started to stand, ignoring the pins and needles in my legs.

  “Wait,” Julia said as she pulled me back down to my crouching position. “Let’s just listen to a couple more. S’il vous plaît!”

  So we did. We sat in the cave that Julia had made mine as well as hers and listened to voices we recognized and some we did not make their prayers. We listened until the warmth of our bodies had fused the skin on our pressed arms together and the multicolored sunlight that reached through the windows like fingers from an outstretched hand turned to the dark streaks of dusk.

  HONORS ENGLISH WITH DR. BLANCHE

  “Before we wrap up for the day, can anyone tell me where Huxley got his title Brave New World? Anyone? Ladies, I know it’s spring and you are almost out of here for the year, but humor me for ten more minutes by at least pretending to be engaged.”

  “From Shakespeare?”

  “Say it with conviction, Miss Piper Houghton.”

  “From Shakespeare.”

  “Yes, from the bard himself. Now, can anyone tell me what play? My good opinion is the prize.”

  “A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

  “What do the judges think? Incorrect, Miss Eun Sun Lee, but thank you for playing. Miss Charlotte Ryder, you’ve been awfully quiet today. What do you think?”

  “The Tempest?”

  “Is that a question or an answer?”

  “The Tempest.”

  “Miss Ryder, you are . . . correct. ‘O brave new world, that has such people in it!’ says Miranda. Now, Miss Ryder, I will let you leave five minutes early if you can explain the meaning of the quotation to the rest of us.”

  I tapped my pencil against my desk. “Miranda says it near the end.”

  “Go on.”

  “Huxley might have been using her words ironically, because the world he creates is terrible, but when she says them she’s being sincere. She’s been sheltered from everything her whole life, but then people come to her island. She has adventures . . . falls in love. She’s expressing awe that the world is so amazing and that she gets to be part of it.”

  “Charlotte, that was lovely. You may leave. Piper and Eun Sun, because of your efforts, you can join her. Go out and enjoy the day. Experientia docet. Experience teaches, as they say.”

  FIVE

  AFTER THOSE FIRST FEW INVITATIONS, it was so easy to fall into Julia’s world. So easy, I didn’t even notice it happening at first.

  I stopped seeing Julia with Piper. Did they have a fight? Did Julia leave her, or was it the other way around? I didn’t pry and tried to ignore the gossip, but being the focus of so much curiosity felt as natural and comfortable as shoes that were two sizes too tight. I was stumbling all the time and always just a step away from falling on my face.

  Despite Piper giving me ugly looks in English, and despite my own questions, I became Charlie, as in “JuliaandCharlie,” and by mid-May, the rest of my friends had sort of drifted away.

  I gave up moving from group to group during lunch and just got used to the looks that followed us as Julia and I walked across the quad or whispered together in the library, perplexed glances that seemed to say, “Why you?” I hated those looks for many reasons, but mostly because I was wondering the same thing.

  She came to the studio and was surprisingly good about watching me work, unafraid of the torches, the banging, and never questioning why I could stare at a pile of clothes hangers, cans, or discarded lamps for hours before I knew where to begin. She’d bring her phone and play games, or a book she would usually only glance at. From time to time when I’d look up, I’d catch her watching me work. No one had ever found me interesting before. I was surprised by how much I liked it.

  I went to watch her ride at the stables sometimes after club period or track practice. And during study halls, I’d settle into one of her beanbag chairs in her messy room and try to get work done. I never accomplished much.

  Julia was always preparing t
o study, but never actually getting to it. She was forever searching for lost books or a pen that didn’t leak. And even when she had an open notebook in front of her on her unmade bed, she was usually staring into space instead of at the pages.

  It took a couple of calculus tests choked with red ink before I realized that if I was going to make the GPA requirement for my scholarship, I needed to retreat to the library instead.

  Julia barely had to do anything to get her A’s and B’s, and she was honestly confused by my confusion when I didn’t understand a physics problem or remember automatically the year that India won independence from Britain. But she was so generous with her offers of help and so matter-of-fact about the ease with which most things came to her that her intelligence didn’t make me jealous—just amazed.

  With St. Anne’s being the fish bowl that it was, it did not take long for the rumors to begin.

  Charlotte is totally a lesbian now. She’s obviously in love with Julia.

  Piper was crying in the dance studio because Julia’s completely dumped her for Charlotte.

  The Buchanans are paying her tuition. That’s why she follows Julia around like a puppy.

  But I was learning to not care what other people thought, and I found the less I cared, the more free I felt to spend time with Julia.

  I learned to ignore Rosalie’s sighing each time I left the room and to avoid Amy’s hurt expression whenever I rushed out of Physics to meet Julia before lunch. As for Jacqueline, she was from New York City and tougher than the rest. She gave up on me before Rosalie and Amy did.

  I knew what I was doing. I was becoming that girl, the one who drops all her old friends when a new, exciting one comes around. I knew what I was doing and I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want to.