Another lie. When did Rose’s dad ever pay enough attention to talk about school shit? Audrey hadn’t missed that Rose had yet to really look at her, either, a ball of trepidation forming in her stomach. But she threw a last attempt out there anyway, hating how desperate and clingy she felt. “Friday?” she said. “You can’t do homework on a Friday. It’s too depressing.”
“Friday? Um . . .” Rose slowed her walk then. “Yeah,” she said. “Friday’s fine.”
Inwardly Audrey sighed, relief coursing through her veins. “Okay.” She smiled. “Great.”
They entered the building, and Rose linked her arm through Audrey’s, a rare, soft gesture. “Okay,” she echoed. “Hey, maybe we could go get our nails done. I have a serious cuticle situation going on.”
Audrey laughed over the sound of their shoes slapping wetly through the hall, and up ahead María turned with a curious look on her face. Audrey stuck out her tongue, goofy, and María crossed her eyes back.
It almost felt like nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.
NINETEEN
What do you want?”
Audrey scanned the board, her nausea settled enough to let her feel actual hunger. While she could, she kind of wanted to eat everything, to make up for the time she wouldn’t be able to later. But to Julian she said, “Cheeseburger and curly fries. And a Dr Pepper.”
Julian kissed her cheek. “Cool. Get a table.”
Audrey squeezed into the tiny booth by the kitchen, one she normally avoided because it was so small, but for only her and Julian, it was fine. She twisted the ring on her pinkie finger around, the fake jewels studded along it glittering under the fluorescent lighting. Julian came back with drinks and a handful of napkins. “Hi.” He slid into the booth, and his knees bumped hers under the table. Audrey felt an electric tingle at the touch and marveled. How could she feel that at a time like this? It was incredible, and for a moment she forgot where they were. All she wanted to do was feel Julian’s mouth on hers, run her fingers to the dip of his throat and make him let out that mix of a sigh and a groan in her ear.
But the bell above the door chimed, bringing her back, and she blinked at Julian staring from across the table. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You completely spaced,” he said. “Did you even hear what I said?”
Audrey shook her head and Julian laughed. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “But this does—do you think I’ll be allowed at Saturday dinner anymore, or am I persona non grata at chez Spencer?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Audrey asked. “I think you’ll be persona non grata if you don’t come. Adam’s all ready to kick your ass the second you stop being good to me.”
“He’s pissed, huh?”
“Nah.” Audrey wrestled her camera out of her bag. “As long as you stay on my good side, you’re on his good side. Easy.”
“Easy,” Julian repeated, smiling. “At least it’s out now. I mean, I could do without the shit Nate and E are giving me, but I’ll take that over keeping it a secret.”
“Send them to me,” Audrey said. “I’ll show them what happens when you mess with my boyfriend.” That made him laugh, and Audrey lifted her hair off her neck, letting it fall back slowly, spiraling twists of almost-black. “I do feel better, though. I really do. I never thought of that saying about things weighing on you as true, but it is. It’s like I’ve had a ton of bricks balancing on me and now they’ve disappeared.” She slid her hand across the table, curling her fingers around Julian’s. “It’s good.”
A willowy-tall girl brought their food, and Audrey plucked a fry from the basket. “My mom made a doctor’s appointment for next week,” she said. “She’s going to email your mom the details.”
“Okay.” Julian stirred his root beer straw around, his foot bumping against Audrey’s under the table. “What do you think it’ll be like?”
“The doctor’s appointment? I have no clue.”
“Do you think they’ll give you a sonogram?”
“Maybe,” Audrey said. “Probably. I guess they’ll have to, right, to figure out all the dates?” Like she A. knew how it all worked and B. knew when the fateful occasion had been. “But it’s not like we’ll see anything. I’m pretty sure you have to be, like, twelve weeks for that to happen, and I’m sure I’m not that far gone.” She let out a breathy laugh. “What am I talking about? There is absolutely nothing about this situation that I’m sure of.”
Across the way two women sat at a table, one bouncing a serious-faced baby on her lap while she ate. Audrey watched the baby reach for its mother’s hair and how the woman expertly unfurled the baby’s fingers from her braid without any break in her conversation, giving it a straw to play with. Would she be like that one day?
Julian was watching, too, Audrey realized, and he wore this wistful expression on his face. “What?” Audrey reached across to tap the back of his hand. “Julian, what is it?”
He glanced at her, that look erased. “Nothing.”
Audrey tipped her head to the side. “Have you thought about it? What it might be like to keep it?”
She didn’t mean it to come out quite so bluntly, but there it was. “A little,” Julian admitted. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” Audrey said honestly. “A little. Mostly about what it would look like.” Would their baby have her curls and Julian’s strong jaw, the dark eyes they both possessed? Would it be a little boy with chubby legs and a laugh like sunshine, or a freckle-faced girl with a pensive stare? It was mesmerizing to wonder.
“I could teach it music,” Julian said, a lift in his voice. “Like my dad taught me. How to play piano, read music, everything.”
Audrey raised her camera and snapped a photo of Julian. “I could teach it this,” she said, adjusting the focus. “Maybe it would have the natural talent I don’t. Or painting. I should paint more.”
Julian picked up his burger but stopped short of actually taking a bite. “Seriously, though,” he said. “Do you think about it? What it would be like?”
She flicked the dials. It would be like becoming a family, a thing she only dreamed about in her most fantastical moments. But it would also mean no art school dreams becoming a reality, no California music school for Julian.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe they could both go to California, go to school and work at the same time. There were schools with cool art programs out there, or maybe she’d major in something “useful” and make art on the side. Yeah—they’d have an apartment, or maybe a tiny little house if they could swing it with the jobs they got. They’d go down to the beach every day to stand with their toes touching the water. She could see it: they’d be tan and happy, each holding one hand of their brown-eyed baby, teaching him or her not to fear the waves, to love the feel of sand under their feet.
“I think . . . maybe it would be good,” she said slowly. “What do you think?”
“I’ve always liked the name Daniel,” Julian said. “For a boy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Audrey almost couldn’t believe they were talking about this, and talking about it this way—so casual, so simple. But why does everything have to be difficult? she thought. Why do I make it all so hard?
She took another picture of him watching her. She never quite managed to capture the Julian she saw, the way he really looked at her or the expression on his face when he got way into music mode. But it was almost better that way. It meant that no one else could see what she saw, either.
Audrey licked her lips, salty from fries, and snapped another three shots in quick succession before lowering the camera. “I like Daniel.”
They could do it. Why not? Other people did it and they were happy. Why couldn’t things be the same for them?
She looked up at Julian and nodded, trying to convey everything she was feeling in that one look. And maybe it worked, because Julian’s face broke out into the biggest smile as he pushed his hair out of his eyes yet again. “I love you, Audrey Spencer,” he said. “Like not
hing else.”
Audrey laughed, and the sound filled her with lightness. “Ditto,” she said. “Like nothing else.”
TWENTY
I should tell her now.
The thought came to Audrey as she was slicking on lip gloss in the coffee shop bathroom. She paused, the wand hovering an inch away from her mouth. Should she?
Rose was outside, ordering their drinks. She didn’t seem too sharp today; at school she’d laughed at a joke Audrey made, and she’d smiled a real smile when she’d walked into the coffee shop and had let Audrey hug her hello. Good signs.
And how long had Audrey been promising herself she was going to tell Rose? Holding it back because she wasn’t ready, Rose was being too Rose to talk about anything, because she liked keeping something to herself. That wasn’t good, that last reason. And it didn’t feel good anymore, either.
Rose seemed like she was in a good mood today. The kind of mood that meant she’d really listen to Audrey.
She watched herself in the mirror, taking deep breaths. She could tell the truth today. Okay.
Audrey left the bathroom and found Rose on the couches at the back, by the windows. “Hey.”
Rose pushed half of a muffin toward Audrey as she sat down. “I thought we could split this.”
An offering? Audrey looked at the fluffy baked good wonderingly. “Thanks,” she said. Was this the universe trying to signal something to her?
“Did you hear what happened to Cooper yesterday?” Rose tore open a sugar and added it to her coffee.
“No,” Audrey said. “What?”
“Evidently he’s been seeing this girl from Saint Francis,” Rose said. “Except she had a boyfriend who Coop swears he didn’t know about. Anyway, this guy was outside the movie theater last night, waiting for Coop to come out. There was almost a full-on rumble, I swear to God.”
“Shut up.” Audrey laughed. “What? How did I not hear about this? What an asshole!”
“Coop?”
“No, the other guy. Coop does some stupid shit sometimes, but it’s not his fault that this girl decided to lie to him and cheat on her boyfriend. And why does it always turn into some bro contest? It’s so pathetic.”
“Boys are pathetic,” Rose said. “Most of the time anyway.”
“But Coop’s okay, right?” Audrey asked. “He didn’t get his ass kicked, did he?”
“No. Davis and a bunch of other guys were there, and this kid left after he’d yelled at Coop some.” Rose rolled her eyes. “So much drama.”
There was a comfortable—on Rose’s part—pause. This was the moment.
Audrey weighed the words on her tongue. Speaking of drama—no. Way too much. Keep it simple and direct. I have something to tell you.
She took a deep breath. “I—”
“God, I’m so out of it,” Rose interrupted, rubbing at her eyes with this wavering smile. “Sorry.”
“Out of it? Why?”
The words came automatically, and Audrey cursed in her head, pinching that spot on her thigh. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. What she’d meant was Don’t you hear me right now? What she’d meant was Are you really this self-centered? What she’d meant was Can you let me talk, for once?
“It’s nothing,” Rose said, a sighing lilt to her voice. “Forget it.”
And just like that they were back to normal. The normal where everything was about Rose, and Audrey came in second, every single fucking time.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen today. For once, Audrey thought, anger building at surprising speed, can’t we talk about me?
So instead of pushing, Audrey said, “Okay.”
This look of surprise flashed across Rose’s face, and she stared at Audrey. “What?” What, we’re not going to focus on me? What, you’re not falling over yourself to make me feel better? Audrey imagined that running through Rose’s mind and allowed herself to feel pleased. She let the silence linger there, tense now.
Audrey glanced at the table next to them, occupied by what her mom called the Mommy Mafia: thirty-something women in dark wash jeans and bright cashmere, tossing back venti lattes while their babies slept in expensive strollers. Definitely part of the Right People of Kennedy list. They made motherhood look like another successful accomplishment they could check off their lists, along with their degrees and beautiful homes and effortless careers. Audrey knew that she’d never be that type of mother.
She looked back at Rose, meeting her questioning eyes. “You said ‘forget it,’” Audrey said, keeping her voice perfectly even. “Okay. Let’s forget it.”
A knock on the window right next to her ear made Audrey jump, and her head snapped around to see María standing on the other side of the glass, waving.
“Shit,” Audrey said, hand pressed to her chest. “She scared me. What’s she doing here?”
Rose waved back. “How should I know?”
Audrey could feel her truth crawling around her stomach, to be burned and dissolved in the acid swirling in her stomach. Maybe it was better down there, where nobody would ever find it.
It can’t be a secret forever, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. It has to end, one way or another.
María came bounding over and threw herself onto the squishy leather couch next to Audrey. “Hey!” she said, pushing her fogged-up glasses onto her head. “I just finished tutoring, and then I saw you two in here. Cool if I join?” She reached for Audrey’s half of the muffin, taking their absence of answers as an affirmative.
“God, it’s cold out,” María said, licking blueberry crumbs from her thumb. “I actually watched this documentary the other day about weather systems and how the oceans are going to be impacted by all this shit.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Rose said drily.
“Screw you, it was!” María’s laughter quickly turned to a wince. “I have the world’s worst cramps right now.”
Oh, what Audrey would give to have cramps. “I have Midol,” she said in a flat voice. “Want some?”
María shook her head. “No, I took some already. Thanks, though.”
Audrey picked up her hot chocolate and took a sip, watching Rose. Rose caught her stare and raised her eyebrows. “What?” she said, exasperated. “You’re being weird. What is your problem?”
What’s my problem? Too late for that. You don’t get to ask me now. “Nothing,” Audrey said, and her voice was sharper than she meant it to be, but it felt good. “I have no problems at all, ever, right?” She turned to María, frozen with a chunk of muffin in her fingers and this look on her face like she was ignoring whatever fight she’d walked in on. Audrey pushed her shoulders back and pressed her mouth into a sunshine smile.
Because this was the way it always was. See, it was fine when it was Rose with the problem, when Audrey was there to make Rose talk about Aisha Forrester or her parents or her sister, spill it all so she wouldn’t completely shatter. But when it was the other way around, Rose couldn’t (wouldn’t?) read Audrey the same way. And usually Audrey went along with it—the Vacarello family was not a family that discussed its feelings, ever, and so Rose did not know how to do it. She didn’t know how to measure out her words and feelings, to let them out little by little instead of repressing until her only option was explosion. Audrey knew this, knew it was not entirely Rose’s fault—but she was sick of it. And having shitty parents wasn’t an excuse. That didn’t make Rose completely innocent.
She doesn’t listen, Audrey thought. When I’m actually trying to tell her something, she doesn’t want to hear me. Why would I want to talk?
“So.” She injected false sunshine into her voice as she turned to María. “Whatever happened with you and the mathlete?”
She could see Rose watching with narrowed eyes as María launched into the whole complicated story, as Audrey nodded along and made the right exclamations at the right moments.
Audrey didn’t like lying. But lately she’d learned to lie with every part of herself, and sometimes, in moment
s like this when it was so easy to slip into Normal Audrey, when the lie was so much easier than the truth, it was comforting. Rose wasn’t the only one who could keep her feelings inside, all pushed and folded and hidden deep down out of sight. Audrey was allowed that, too. It was only fair.
TWENTY-ONE
Here,” Audrey half yelled over the noise of the Saturday-night bar crowd. She handed Olivia’s phone back, the emergency 911 text they all used now programmed in. “So if you’re ever in trouble or you need someone, you just send that and we’ll come. No questions asked.” They didn’t use it often, but enough—like when María had been stranded in the city after a disastrous date with no money to get home, or when Rose had been stuck in the house with her sister’s drugged-out ex pounding on the door.
Olivia leaned in. “Thanks,” she said loudly. “I—I never had friends that did shit like this before. Thanks.”
Audrey smiled. “It’s cool,” she said, her throat already scratchy. “You’re one of us now! For better or worse.”
The guy behind Olivia grinned. “Oh, Liv, does that mean I can’t come visit you again?”
“Please ignore Dylan,” Olivia said, elbowing the guy. “He’s an ass!”
Audrey laughed. Dylan was Olivia’s friend from the city proper who Olivia said she had known since before she could even remember. He seemed cool, and Audrey was especially pleased that he was visiting this weekend, when Hera was playing this show, because she liked to show Julian off.
That boy who looked so at home onstage with his bass guitar, who played hard and moved hard until the sweat dripped from him, who other people looked at with awe and envy and even lust. Who wouldn’t want to show him off? Maybe it was immature, but she liked people knowing he was hers, that they were each other’s. Audrey, the girl with the ever-present camera and bright lipstick, and Julian, the bassist with the voice like cut glass. She liked knowing that whoever was pushing themselves on him, boys and girls wanting him after the show was done, she was the one he always looked for. Plus, being With the Band meant perks like occasional free drinks even though they were underage, and getting backstage, which was only ever a grimy room with cracked vinyl couches but still fun.
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