by Dawn Metcalf
She’d stared for too long.
Stefan_malone has logged off.
“No...” Joy frantically typed a few impotent Hellos? and Stefs? No response. She dug through her backpack and speed-dialed him, cursing herself and him and modern technology. He didn’t pick up. She didn’t leave a message. She didn’t even know what to say. All the things she should have said in that moment sat in her stomach and squirmed.
She ought to write back. Send a text. Send an email. She picked up the phone. She ought to say something.
Joy clicked a new email and stared at the white page. Her fingers twitched. She didn’t know what to do. The letters didn’t make sense. The words wouldn’t come. She pushed away from her desk and fell onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling, bunching the wet blue towel in her hands. It was cold.
She felt like crying.
It had been an innocent question! But lately innocent questions had had unexpected answers and caused all sorts of trouble.
Joy buried her head under the cool side of her pillow.
That’s what I get for asking.
* * *
When she’d been in level-nine gymnastics, Joy’s friends had all been from the mats, joined together by blood and sweat, hugs and sprains, victories and defeats, before school and after, six days a week. Obsessively watching Olympic videos together, counting calories, comparing injuries and split kicks. School was just a thing that happened in between training, students and teachers were nothing more than backdrop shapes, extras in chairs. Joy’s life had been her coach, a tenth of a point and Mom sitting in the bleachers. After Mom had given up and left, Joy had given up the rest, creating a giant vacuum hole in her life right next to the Mom-shaped one. Her world funneled into that black hole and disappeared.
Monica was the one person who had never been a part of that world. They’d been friends from Monica’s transfer in fourth grade and had picked up right where they’d left off without missing a beat, despite the years in between.
And today, she really needed a friend.
Joy dropped into her usual study spot between Nonfiction and the library Reference Desk. Monica stopped texting Gordon and watched her wordlessly with cat-wide eyes.
“So? Spill.”
Joy swallowed a deep breath and said, “Stef’s gay.”
“Stef’s gay?”
“Stef’s gay.”
Monica blinked and sent her text, dropping the phone in her purse to give Joy her full attention. “Huh,” she said. “What do you think of that?”
Joy picked her nails. “I hate it.”
Monica shifted in sympathy. “What about it, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Joy said, having trouble with words. It was like she woke up this morning and realized that she didn’t know anybody, really, and—as usual—she’d been the last one to figure it out. No one had bothered to tell her that they’d already changed. Mom, Dad, Stef, Monica. It was like she was the only one not in the know. She blinked hard. “I guess it’s the fact that he didn’t tell me—that he knew and didn’t tell me.” Her heart added, again.
“We’re talking about Stef, right? This isn’t about your mom,” Monica asked with piercing accuracy. Joy felt shameful heat flash like the light in her eye. “You never knew for sure if Stef knew about Doug,” Monica pressed. Joy didn’t say anything. It was true. She didn’t know for sure. She’d never asked Stef directly if he’d known about their mom’s affair. They didn’t talk about that stuff in her house, but mostly, she didn’t want to know. One betrayal had been enough. “And you don’t know if he knew about this beforehand, either. Maybe he just found out and you’re the second one to know.”
Joy tore a cuticle and frowned. “Third,” she muttered. “His name’s James.”
“Nice name,” Monica said. Joy glared at her. Her friend shrugged, bangled wrists jangling. “So, what do I know? I’m dating a guy named Gordon Weitzenhoffer.” Joy didn’t want to smile, but it tugged at her lips. She flipped open her notebook. It was full of black eyes in the margins. She closed it quickly. Monica sighed against the wall of Joy’s anger.
“This isn’t a whole ‘going to hell’ thing, right? ’Cuz you know how much I love my uncles Marty and Mike and I’d hate to have to smack you right here in a quiet library.”
“No,” Joy said. “It isn’t that. I mean, I don’t like the idea of Stef being...looked at differently or anything. But it won’t be by me. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t know,” she added honestly. “I couldn’t even think of what to IM.”
“He came out on the computer?” Monica gasped. She sat up and shook her head. “Miss Manners does not approve.”
“This may be outside Miss Manners’s jurisdiction,” Joy said. “I just don’t know what to do about it.”
“Is there something you’re supposed to do?”
“Yes,” Joy insisted. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Congratulations’? ‘Are you sure’? ‘Thanks for telling me’? ‘Does Dad know’?”
“Does your dad know?” Monica asked.
“I don’t know,” Joy said again. “Stef was always...” She trailed off, not wanting to admit aloud that her brother had always been closer to Mom. That’s why Joy was sure he’d known about the affair—that Mom had told him that she was leaving, but hadn’t told her. Had he kept this secret from her, too? And for how long? Did her mother know about Stef? That would be the ultimate betrayal. “Keep strong.” HA! How many secrets did people keep from each other? Or was it just from her? Why was she always the last to know everything?
Joy rubbed her eyes, on the edge of tears. Rule Number One: no crying at school. Weeping was an unforgivable offense ripe for the rumor mill. She couldn’t afford any more drama right now. She knuckled her flashing eye.
“I’ve been texting and emailing and calling ever since. I stayed up late in case he wrote back. Even if I don’t know what to say...I want to say something.” Joy lifted her eyes, blinking back watery traitors. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Who would I tell?” Monica asked.
There was no one to tell. Nobody noticed. No one cared.
“Just don’t,” Joy said.
“Okay,” Monica said. “But what about your dad?”
Joy shrugged. “What about him?” The way she said it sounded petulant and dumb.
“Hi, there!”
Joy turned and almost fell out of her chair. Inq waggled her fingers hello. Joy glanced at Monica, who had looked to see what had spooked Joy. Naturally, she didn’t see anything. Or anyone. Joy sat, stuck in horrified shock.
“Can we talk a little girl-talk?” Inq asked as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Monica couldn’t see or hear her, but Joy sure could. Fresh panic felt like snow against her skin. Joy didn’t know how to answer without sounding crazy in front of Monica or rude in front of Inq, who was still armed with unspoken threats about making Joy disappear.
Joy gripped her chair. Monica raised her eyebrows.
“What?” her friend said.
“I just...” Joy stalled. Her brain was a total wash. What had she been saying?
“You have to go to the bathroom,” Inq suggested, slipping her arms around Joy’s shoulders. “Isn’t it fortunate that humans have to pee a lot?”
“I just can’t think about Dad right now,” Joy blurted, scratching her shoulder, effectively shooing Inq away while simultaneously ignoring her—a small win for sanity. Joy sat up a little straighter. “I have to talk to Stef first.”
Monica relaxed. “Fair enough.”
Inq grinned and whispered, “Pssssssssshhhhh!”
Joy flinched and pushed her away.
“Joy?” Monica sounded alarmed.
“Let’s go!” Inq insisted, incredibly close to Joy’s ear. It tickled.
“What is t
he matter with you?” Monica nearly shouted.
Joy stood up quickly. “I think something landed on me!” she said. Inq giggled. Joy swatted her sleeves and neck and seat. “Ugh! Creepy!” she spat the veiled accusation. Inq laughed aloud, but no one else heard. Monica stared at Joy like crazy was contagious.
Inq sauntered nearer to Monica. Just seeing Inq within a few feet of her best friend sent prickles down Joy’s back, but she dared not move. She didn’t want to think about what Inq might do.
“Say it,” Inq cooed.
Joy gave in. “I gotta pee,” she muttered and fumbled with her bag. She wanted to get Inq as far away from Monica as possible before the impish Scribe got creative. The more distance, the better.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Joy said. “Thanks, Mon.”
“Sure. No problem.” Monica waved stiffly and went back to texting Gordon. “Ping me if you need me back on planet Earth.”
“Later,” Joy said as she headed toward the girls’ bathroom.
“Much later!” Inq called back. Joy prayed there was an otherworldly mute on Inq’s volume control. Was her invisibility voluntary? Could she cause a scene and then disappear, leaving Joy to deal with the fallout? Joy hurried a little faster, just in case.
Joy pushed in the door and did a quick foot-sweep of the stalls before turning on Inq.
“What the hell were you doing?!” Joy hissed. “I’ve already had more than enough therapy to last a lifetime, thank you very much!”
“You’re not crazy,” Inq said simply. “You’re just stressed out. That’s why I’m throwing you a party.”
Joy stopped. “A party?” she said suspiciously. “For me?”
“You’re the guest of honor,” Inq said. “Wouldn’t be much of a party without you. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything important.” Her dark eyes brightened with mischief. “I have come to rescue you from tedium!”
“Tedium?”
“Boredom,” Inq said. “You looked bored. And this—” she gestured around the bathroom “—is boring.”
Joy dug in her bag and started fixing her makeup. She desperately needed some recovery time and wasn’t getting any.
“This is school,” she said, glossing her lips. “It’s supposed to be boring.”
“Life’s short,” Inq said. “Well, yours is, anyway.” Another chill prickled over Joy’s limbs. She hated how Inq made everything sound like a mortal threat. The Scribe laughed and one-arm hugged her. “Lighten up, Joy—you’re only human, after all. I got everybody together just for you.”
“What, now?”
“Yes, now. Why? Have something better to do?”
Did she? Joy glared at herself in the mirror. Everyone else in her life had changed and moved on to bigger and better things. Why hadn’t she?
Did she have something better to do?
“Nope,” Joy said, dropping her gloss in the bag. “Lead the way.”
Inq smiled and offered Joy her small, smooth hand. Joy took it, trying not to think about how similar it was to Ink’s. The quiver she felt had nothing to do with him, but rather a defiant excitement plus a good dose of fear. Inq seemed to sense that, too, and smiled wider. Joy hesitated.
Why was she doing this?
But then it was too late.
Spreading her right hand, Inq gathered power invisibly, like a storm. Joy felt electricity crackling her hair, tasted the ionic tang on her lips. The air under Inq’s fingertips rippled like heat waves and wind.
“This way,” Inq said as she pulled Joy gently through a fissure of light.
* * *
“Happy Lehman’s Day!” Inq crowed, throwing her arms open. Joy might have thought it was to show off the private pool, sunny skies and emerald seas that kissed the low horizon, but it was evidently to greet the six half-naked men who waved back. A few rushed over to give Inq hugs and kisses in the European fashion. One did it in the French fashion—all tongue. Joy accepted a couple of pecks on each cheek and a glass of something fruity as an excuse to look away.
They were ushered into lounge chairs flanked by a patio table and bright white umbrellas. There were balloons and tinsel and silver streamers. The water sparkled a million shades of turquoise and green.
“This is Luiz,” Inq said, indicating the dark man with long hair who filled her glass with ice. He smiled at Joy. She felt a twang somewhere deep inside her and sipped her tropical slushie to hide it. Luiz did not pour any beverage into Inq’s glass. Instead, Inq slipped a cube into her palm and trailed it along the inside of her wrist. Slithering, pale calligraphy followed the melting water. Inq glanced coyly up at Luiz and he ran his lips over the droplet. She mussed his hair playfully and gestured with the dripping ice.
“That’s Tuan and Antony in the pool, goofing off. Ilhami is by the bar, and Enrique, the one with gray hair, is wearing sunglasses in the shade...and here comes my Nikolai!” She held her arm out to a gorgeous, muscular man who took it and kissed her knuckles as if she were a queen. “He’s my newest lehman,” Inq said proudly. “He speaks six languages, has visited every continent and has excellent taste in, oh, just about everything!” She laughed. He did, too. Joy wasn’t certain, but she thought she recognized Nikolai from a magazine ad. The hot Russian possible-underwear-model offered her a paper napkin, which she accepted with a quiet thank-you as she dabbed her lips.
“Happy Lehman’s Day, Joy,” he said with a grin. His accent was like marzipan, rich and sweet.
Joy wiped the glass’s condensation—or was it sweat?—off her hands. She desperately wanted to take out her phone and snap some photos, but didn’t dare. Monica would kill for eye candy like this—Gordon or no.
“Is there really such a thing as Lehman’s Day?” she asked Inq.
“Well, there should be,” Inq said. “In fact, yes there is. I just made it up! What day is it?”
Luiz said, “February tenth.”
“There you go,” Inq said. “Lehman’s Day.”
Joy grinned and sucked red slush off a strawberry. “That’s awfully close to Valentine’s Day.”
“Saint Valentine?” Inq said primly. “Never heard of him.”
They laughed. Joy kicked off her shoes and leaned back in her cushioned beach chair. “And this party is for me?” Joy said. “Where’s my Cabana Boy?”
Luiz laughed. “You are a Cabana Boy! Welcome to the club!”
As if on cue, tight-and-tan Ilhami cranked up the sound system and the two guys in the pool started spike-splashing each other. Enrique ignored them and raised a toast from across the pool. Many voices followed suit: “To Joy!”
Embarrassed, she saluted with her own glass and took another sip. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or insulted that it was a virgin daiquiri. Joy didn’t need alcohol to make her head swim—the scenery was more than enough to boggle her mind. Her fellow lehman splashed in the sunshine, music played, balloons danced and Inq languished in adoration. It was a taste of finer things, an exclusive club that she’d just joined.
It wasn’t bad!
Joy tore off her socks and rolled her jeans up as far as they would go, declining the skimpy swimsuit in the Água de Coco bag by her feet. The deck warmed her toes, her eyes adjusted to the piercing gold sunlight and she drank sips of fruity, ice-cold slush as exotic men frolicked like little kids in the pool. Luiz returned to refill her glass and offer her a slice of cake. It had her name on it in frosting.
“A little overwhelmed?” he asked, handing her a fork.
“Just a bit,” she said.
“You get used to it,” Luiz said, laughing. “Actually, I lie. You never get used to it, but you get used to their whims.” Joy thought Ink’s whims were hardly anything like Inq’s, but the possibilities were dizzying. Five-star restaurants instead of dungeons. Pool parties instead of stinky
sheep.
“Hand me your phone,” he said. He snapped a photo of himself flashing his butter-melt smile and entered his phone number with quick-typing thumbs. “If you need anything, call. That goes for all of us. Consider it one of the perks of membership.” He winked toward Inq, who cuddled in Enrique’s lap. “And that’s not even one of the better ones!”
Joy accepted her phone back. “Thanks.”
Inq circled, spending a little time with each of her lehman, allowing Joy to enjoy some time to herself. Joy’s thoughts were like her hands—unsure of what to do. Everywhere she looked there were impossible colors, bright, hot smiles and water dripping down six-pack abs. Nowhere was safe. She even got splashed.
Finally, Inq plopped down next to Joy.
“You like?”
“It’s awesome,” Joy admitted. “And they can see you, too. So all of us have the Sight?”
“Oh, no,” Inq said quickly. “You’re pretty rare. I had to purchase a tincture at great personal cost.” She wrinkled her nose as she squinched in her chair. “But so totally worth it, right?”
Joy considered the beautiful men milling under the streamers and shiny balloons. She set aside her empty cake plate. “Yeah, well, thanks for thinking of me.”
“Oh, I think about you a lot,” Inq said. “Ink does, too. He just doesn’t know what to do about it yet.”
Joy’s heartbeat picked up speed. The idea that he thought of her—even a little tiny bit—was undeniably exciting. Inq watched Joy as if reading her mind.
“You think about him, too,” she said.
Joy gave a little nod.
Inq shifted her attention out into the pool yard where young men dove underwater and older men conversed in the shade. Inq slid an ice cube down her throat, pale pictographs flowing like music at her touch.
“You’d be the first, you know. His first kiss.” Joy started, because of either the subject or the information. Inq smirked in a way that reminded Joy much too much of Ink. “Remember, Joy, he’s never had a lehman. He doesn’t know a kiss from a thimble. Don’t get upset with him and don’t expect him to call the shots,” Inq said sagely. “It wouldn’t be fair—to either of you.”