by E. Lockhart
Now pieces of those kits were mixed together in an enormous clear plastic box along with random tiny community workers in Lego uniforms, fake flowerpots, and regular Lego bricks. Adelaide began making dioramas.
Joelle’s deck with the hot tub.
Ling’s car, parked outside her house.
The doggie day care.
Making the dioramas used up some of the
churning energy Adelaide had inside, the
nostalgia mixed with
sadness over Toby, the
almost-unbearable poignancy of it all.
The morning after Mr. Schlegel’s philosophy party, Adelaide woke up thinking of Jack. How he smelled, how his neck had felt under her fingertips, how curious she was to see his heart. She liked the soft way he pronounced some of his Ls, maybe a leftover from his time in Spain, and the way he ran his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, usually making it look worse.
Maybe he would be at the dog run with B-Cake.
Maybe he would call or text.
At the dog run, EllaBella trotted around, sniffing every corner.
Lord Voldemort tried to kill a squirrel but failed.
Adelaide thought about texting Jack. But no.
She was too ashamed of crying when they’d kissed.
* * *
Adelaide texted Jack.
She felt she was in love with him. Was that impossible?
She was a rational person. Usually, anyhow.
Thanks for walking me home.
Are you okay?
I’m okay.
But you know what would be good?
What?
If you could just erase the crying bit of the evening from your memory. Erase! Please remember only up to the time when we talked about Barcelona. That would be good, if you don’t mind.
* * *
Adelaide texted Jack.
She felt like she might love him. Was that impossible?
She was a rational person. Usually, anyhow.
Thanks for walking me home.
Of course.
I’m at the dog run.
…
…
You around later?
…
…
OK. I get it.
Sorry. I just—
I have someone.
I said, I get it.
* * *
Adelaide thought about texting Jack. She wanted to see him, but also, she was too ashamed of crying when they’d kissed.
As she was returning EllaBella to Mr. Byrd’s house, though, a text from him came in.
Feel like swimming?
When?
Today. Dodson’s Hole, at noon. I’m going with some guys from my job.
Only guys?
Not if you come with.
I’m supposed to work on my Set Design model.
Please come.
I don’t think I can.
I just broke up with someone. I am an egg yolk of misery.
Come anyway.
He and I might get back together, is all. Maybe.
What is an egg yolk of misery?
…
…
Okay, I get it.
Sorry.
It’s fine.
* * *
As she was returning EllaBella to Mr. Byrd’s house, though, a text from him came in.
Feel like swimming?
When?
Today. Dodson’s Hole, at noon. I’m going with some guys from my job.
Only guys?
Not if you come with.
Dodson’s Hole was a swimming place in a state park, about forty-five minutes away. You hiked in a ways and then came across a section of lazy river with stone steps going down to it.
Someone had looped a length of rope over a thick tree that arched over the river. You could run off the dock, holding the rope, swing out, and drop in.
People laid picnic blankets and towels on a stretch of flat, sunny lawn but stayed mostly in the shade of the trees that lined the river, which created dappled green patterns on the water. Adelaide had been there on a school outing, a start-of junior-year bonding thing in September.
I’m supposed to work on this Set Design model I have to build.
Please come.
Please.
OK.
“You can go first.”
“No, you go. It’s too cold.”
“I’m going to rush it.”
“You go ahead and rush it.”
Jack was unselfconscious in a bathing suit, despite the sizable scar on his side, and his unusual leg. The leg was thin and didn’t seem to have much strength. The rest of him was all shoulders and a ripple of muscle across his abdomen.
“Where are the guys from your job?” she asked him.
“Late, I guess.”
They had driven to the park in Jack’s car, then lugged towels and bottles of soda from the parking lot to Dodson’s Hole. Adelaide wore a bikini with fern fronds on it and a pair of bright blue swimming goggles.
“Are they coming at all?”
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath and rushed off the dock, swinging out and dropping into the river.
Adelaide did the same, and the chill of the water after the heat of the day made her feel wildly awake.
Later, his friends showed. One of them was Oscar, the piano player from Schlegel’s party. He looked pale and slightly awkward in board shorts and a T-shirt. The other was Terrance, a slim black guy with a triangular face who hid his eyes behind dark glasses. Both of them went to the local public school and knew each other from the school orchestra. Terrance played what he called “bad oboe.” They both had summer jobs with Jack at Uncle Benny’s Fine Sandwiches.
The boys were comically underprepared for a day at the water. Oscar had no towel. Terrance had forgotten swimwear and just rolled up his jeans to go swimming. They had failed to bring snacks. They both got thirsty and complained about not having anything to drink. Adelaide shared her potato chips and let them finish her seltzer.
It was nice to be surrounded by boys. They showed off, cannonballing off the dock. Oscar talked about wanting to make a silent disco, with everyone on headphones. Different people would be listening to different songs, but everyone would dance together. “You’d find the person who had your same song,” he said. “You could tell it was the same by the rhythm of how they danced. And the style.”
“You could tell,” said Terrance. “Everyone else would be like, walking around confused and unhappy.”
“They wouldn’t be unhappy,” said Oscar. “They’d be dancing.”
“What’s the point of the disco being silent?” said Jack.
“I don’t know,” said Oscar. “It would just be like, a happening. Funny and kind of magical.”
“Or embarrassing,” said Jack.
“It would take way too much organizing,” said Terrance. “Headphones for everyone and all that.”
“I bet we could get funding at school,” said Oscar. “Like if it was a school dance.”
“Would you curate all the playlists?” asked Adelaide. “How many would there be?”
“If people have matching playlists, they’re going to get ornery,” said Terrance. “No one wants to dance with the one same person all night.”
“I think people would start trying to choose their own music,” said Adelaide. “People would off-road and change to their own songs.”
“
God, you’re all squashing my dream,” said Oscar. “Why are you squashing?”
“I’m being practical,” said Terrance.
“I wasn’t going to actually do it,” said Oscar.
Jack touched Adelaide’s back, very softly. “You want to swim? Get away from these jokers?”
“I heard that,” said Terrance. “I’m swimming too.”
“We’re all swimming,” said Oscar, standing up. “You can’t escape us, Adelaide.”
* * *
On the way back, with mud and shreds of grass clinging to their feet, Adelaide and Jack stopped for tacos. They ate at a food truck in a parking lot, sitting perched on a cement barrier behind a couple of orange traffic cones.
Her phone pinged. It was Mikey.
Hey, I’m thinking of you. You all right?
Adelaide deleted the text and turned her phone off. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“Who was it?” Jack asked.
“Nobody important.”
* * *
On the way back, with mud and shreds of grass clinging to their feet, Adelaide and Jack stopped for tacos. They ate at a food truck in a parking lot, sitting perched on a cement barrier behind a couple of orange traffic cones.
Her phone pinged. It was Mikey.
Hey, I’m thinking of you. You all right?
“Sorry,” she told Jack. “I have to take this.”
She had never not answered a text from Mikey. She couldn’t ignore him now. They hadn’t spoken since their breakup.
She called him, walking over to the other side of the parking lot. “Hey.”
“Hey,” said Mikey Double L.
“Where are you?”
“Airport. On the way to Puerto Rico.”
“Wow.”
“I might be nervous.”
Mikey always got anxious around travel. He hated packing, worried buses would be late, planes delayed.
“You’ll be okay,” said Adelaide. “You got this.” She kept her voice bright, as if they were old friends and she was eager to hear about his adventures.
“I already know I forgot toothpaste.”
“Someone in the program will share with you.”
“My Spanish should be better.”
“Tell me about the trip.”
Mikey talked on about his service trip, the hurricane relief work they’d be doing, where he’d be traveling. “How are the dogs you’re walking?”
“Fantastic.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Well.”
“What?”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” said Mikey.
“I’m super happy,” said Adelaide. “Don’t worry about me. Do great things in Puerto Rico.”
She hung up and felt her face crumple. It was horrid talking to Mikey in this
fake bright way, having him
flying across the sea, having
nothing really to say to him after wanting to talk to him constantly for so long.
It seemed impossible that so recently the two of them had been rolling around in his bed, hitting each other with pillows.
* * *
—
She and Jack didn’t speak at all the rest of the drive home.
Adelaide looked out the window and thought
of Mikey, looking up at her when he lifted his mask after a fencing match,
of Mikey, drinking hot chocolate in the dormitory common room,
of Mikey, riding a bicycle with the yellow ribbon on the handle, grinning widely.
“We’re here,” said Jack, his voice cold.
Adelaide got out of the car. “Thanks for the good outing,” she said.
“Sure.”
He drove off without another word.
Mikey Lewis Lieu, also known as Mikey Double L, was Adelaide’s first love.
He was a fencer and an optimist. He believed in positive thinking, in psyching himself up for a bout. He was dependable. He had wonderful arm muscles.
When she and Mikey started going out, November of junior year, Adelaide very quickly came to require Mikey Double L. He had such a reassuring round face, like a dinner plate, warm from washing.
Mikey Double L thought of things like
giving a girl a bicycle.
He did that. He gave Adelaide a bicycle with a yellow bow tied on one handle.
He thought of things like
texting a girl in the early morning. “Hello, sunshine.”
He reached out to hold her hand as the two of them walked through campus.
A boy like that would make most anyone happy.
Adelaide wasn’t depressed. She never felt bleak. She had energy. She was talky. She painted her fingernails green and wore floral-print dresses and enormous cardigan sweaters.
But you can be talky and paint your fingernails and still be very sad.
In fact, you can be talky and paint your fingernails to protect other people from how sad you are.
Adelaide couldn’t find a source of happiness in herself. It just didn’t seem to be there.
She could distract herself from sadness, though. For example, she built dioramas from a mix of cardboard, paint, and Lego, then filled them with Lego people and left them in the dormitory bathroom cubbies for people to find. She went dancing on weekend nights, when there were bands that played in the student center. She stayed up late talking with Stacey S, tie-dyeing T-shirts in the sinks.
But the sadness was still there, underneath.
Mikey Double L removed it a pretty large amount of the time. He just did.
He never failed to show up. He waited for Adelaide on the steps of the dining hall. He kissed her in public with big, firm smooches, like he felt very enthusiastic about her, and in private with a kind of glee, as if the two of them shared a fun secret.
They didn’t sleep together, though they talked about it. It felt like they were always hard-pressed to find time alone—before roommates got back, or before curfew, when everyone was required to be in their rooms.
And maybe they weren’t ready.
They had been a couple for six and a half months when they decided to spend the summer together. Mikey’s parents lived three hours away, but he could live in a teacher’s guest room in exchange for doing some babysitting. He had a work-study job mowing lawns and tending plants that paid way better than what he could get back home.
“Let’s both be here,” he said to Adelaide. “Would you want to?”
Yes.
“All summer, having picnics on the quad, taking bike rides. What do you think?”
“Don’t you want to see your parents?” she asked.
“I’d rather be here with you.”
Adelaide and Mikey planned to meet up each morning after Adelaide had walked the dogs, in their favorite café in town, the one with the light wood floors. They would order almond croissants. And they’d be alone—alone for the first time, really. Without roommates or dorm supervisors, without homework, without friends who wanted to form study groups, play Frisbee, or commiserate. Nearly empty, the campus would spread out before them in the long summer days.
It was mid-June, the day before the end of spring term. Classes were over. Finals were over. The graduation ceremony was happening on the lawn. Students were packing to go home for the summer.
Mikey came to see Adelaide as she painted Levi’s bathroom a color called Adriatic Mist, a pale turquoise. He brought her a sandwich, the avocado grilled cheese she always ordered from Uncle Benny’s Fine Sandwiches in town. She kissed him for it but didn’t eat it right away. She went back to painting, because she wanted to get the edging done.
Mikey Double L sat on the floor of the hallway while she worked. He ate
a banana and a meatball sub, drank a lemonade. He talked about his friend Aldrich, who was spending the summer in France on a youth program, and some guy he knew who was doing Outward Bound.
Adelaide didn’t tell him about flunking Set Design. She hadn’t even told him about academic probation.
Mikey finished his food and shoved the greasy white wrapper into the brown paper bag.
Mikey said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
What?
Mikey wiped his hands on his jeans and said, “I quit my job at the physical plant.”
Mikey said, “I quit the babysitting, too, and told Ms. Sakata I wouldn’t be staying with her.”
Mikey said, “My mom signed me up for a service trip. Four weeks in Puerto Rico.”
Mikey said, “Things haven’t been the same between us.”
Mikey said, “It makes me really sad, but I think this is the end.”
Mikey said, “I’ve known this was coming for a while. It was just hard to face up to.”
Adelaide felt dizzy and sick. She reached her hand out to steady herself on the wall, forgetting about the paint. “Yesterday we were in your bed together,” she said, her voice sounding thin and quavery in her own ears. “Today you bought me a sandwich.”
She said, “Why would you plan to spend the summer here, if you knew this was coming?”