Gil stood staring at her, waiting for an answer. But Lucy just shook her head, picked up her bike, and climbed on.
Lucy knew what she should be feeling at that moment—what the old Lucy would have felt: anger, sadness, fear, regret, worry—but instead, she felt nothing but the wind on her cheeks and deep in her gut the slightest tickle of understanding that maybe somewhere along the way she had made a giant unfixable mistake.
Twenty-Four
Lucy was home.
The lights were on inside. Lucy opened the door. The house was completely silent.
Lucy walked up the stairs, numb. She thought about how it had once seemed so wonderful that there was magic in the world, but she could not at that moment feel even a tiny shred of that delight.
At the top of the stairs Lucy realized her parents’ door was open. They were inside, speaking quietly to each other. Lucy stood there for a minute, just staring. They were taking items out of her dad’s dresser and putting them in suitcases. “Maybe these should go in the bigger one,” her mom said. She was holding up a pair of Lucy’s father’s khakis. “That way they won’t get as wrinkled.”
Her father nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s a good idea.” His voice sounded different than she had ever heard it. It was like she was watching strangers, strangers to herself and to each other.
Lucy knocked on the open door. Her parents turned in unison. Their eyes looked sad, and they both smiled these complicated smiles that Lucy did not understand.
“Hey, honey,” said her mom.
Her dad said, “Come in for a minute.” He pushed the door open wider. Lucy had a sudden crazy overwhelming urge to run, far away from them, from everyone and everything. She did not know where she would go, though, because, she realized as she stared at her parents, there was nowhere to go. There never was. Putting more space between her and this and whatever they were going to say next wouldn’t make it less real—it wouldn’t even make it further away. She’d bring all of it right along with her.
Lucy stepped inside. Her mom motioned, and Lucy sat in the chair by the window.
“We know we’ve said a number of times in the past . . . ,” her dad started.
Her mom continued, “. . . so if you don’t believe us at first, we understand.”
“But we want you to know that we’ve had a long talk, and this time we’re quite serious.” Her dad was looking at her mom now.
And then they both nodded, looked straight at Lucy, and said, “We’re getting divorced,” her mother first and her father right after, their words overlapping.
Lucy felt nothing.
“Oh,” Lucy said. “Wow.”
What was she supposed to be feeling? Sadness? Anger? Relief? She tried to form her face to match the appropriate emotion. But inside, she was completely blank. She knew there was such a thing as shock, that sometimes when something really bad happened it took a while to sink in. When she was eight, she saw her neighbor’s dog get hit by a car and die right in front of her house. She still remembered the yelp of pain, the helpless look in the dog’s eyes, the feeling of floaty calm that overtook her as her mother rushed her inside, made her tea, wrapped her in a blanket as though she was the one who’d collided with that dark green station wagon. She had not felt anything, anything at all, until later that night in bed, when she started shaking and could not stop. She knew the detached self-protective calm that surrounds people after painful things happen. But this was not that—this was something else entirely.
“Are you okay?” Her mother came and put her arm around Lucy. Her father stood on the other side. “We know this must be a big surprise for you,” her mother said. “I mean, the fact that we’re actually doing this. But we got to talking the other night. We had an actual rational friendly discussion about this for the first time, well, maybe ever. And we realized it was just the best thing for everyone. . . .” She turned to Lucy’s father, and he nodded.
“This was probably something we should have done a long time ago,” her dad said. “We just couldn’t quite figure out how. We hope you can understand.” He smiled sadly.
“I can,” Lucy said. “I mean, I agree with all of that.” But her words sounded funny to her—like someone else was saying them.
Lucy’s mom gave her a hug and then excused herself and went downstairs. Lucy sat there with her dad as he continued to pack. He was taking socks out of his drawer, balling them in pairs, and putting them in his suitcase. She watched as he paired up an unmatched set, one black, one navy. Lucy knew that this was the type of detail that would have wrecked her in the past, the idea of her dad, off on his own with his wrong socks, and no one to help him right them. But in that moment she felt only afraid. A brief flash of fear, and then nothing.
Twenty-Five
Lucy remembered the first time she’d stood outside these enormous oak doors, when it had sounded as though there was an entire ocean behind them and everything that was about to happen hadn’t happened yet. She remembered how scared she’d been then, how behind that fear there was hope. But what about now? What did she feel? What was left?
Lucy walked right in. Olivia was leaning back on a green velvet couch, staring at an envelope.
Lucy didn’t even wait for her to look up. “Did you know Gil recruited me?”
Olivia smiled. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Gil. She hired a Heartbreaker to steal Alex.”
“Well,” she said. “No, I had not heard that before. I take it from your tone that this is a problem.”
“Yes, it’s a problem,” Lucy said. And then Lucy told Olivia everything—about Shay, about Alex, about Tristan, about Gil and the Diamonding Powder and Liza’s Glass Heart mother whom they’d been supposed to save.
Olivia swept her white blonde hair away from her face and turned toward the window. She looked, for a moment, almost upset. But then she simply said coolly, “There is no such thing as a Glass Heart.”
Lucy blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Liza’s mom is sick and her problems are complicated, but they’re not mystical. She doesn’t take the medication she should take and takes lots she shouldn’t, and she drinks too much. But she has never tried to kill herself. You think if she had, Gil would be the only one doing anything about it?”
“Gil said . . .”
Olivia shook her head. “Gil can say whatever she wants. It doesn’t change the truth.”
“But Gil told me she was a Glass Heart before I was even a Heartbreaker.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Maybe she was planning something all along, or giving herself a good excuse in case you ever found out anything she didn’t want you to know. . . .”
“Oh my god.” Lucy stood there, arms frozen at her sides.
Olivia sighed. “So, it’s not ideal. But what exactly do you expect me to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was quiet. “But Gil has been keeping secrets this whole time, then!”
“Lucy,” Olivia said. “Everyone has secrets.”
“She tricked me to get me to join you.”
“No, you chose to join us. If, at some point along the way, you misunderstood the reality of certain situations, that’s no one’s fault but your own.” Olivia stopped then. Her jaw was set, and one of her eyelids twitched.
“But that’s . . . ,” Lucy started to say.
“Well, however you ended up joining, you’re getting all the benefits from it anyway,” Olivia said, more gently.
“What benefits?”
“When you’re a Heartbreaker, life is just easier.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Haven’t you noticed how clean and simple things are starting to get? How with every day that passes, you become more untouchable?”
“Is that what this is? Why feelings aren’t working right anymore?” Lucy’s voice cracked.
“Working right?”
“Ever since I became a Heartbreaker, things have been . . . they’ve
just been wrong. I don’t feel things the same way.”
“Of course you don’t.” Olivia nodded. “There’s a layer around your heart now. The more hearts you break, and the more magic you use, the thicker it gets.”
“But that’s awful.” Lucy felt a tense buzzing in her chest.
“No, it’s not.” Olivia shook her head. “It’s just how things are. You think your feelings are just a box of crayons, and you can pick and choose only the ones you want? Everything is connected. It’s like I told you that very first night you were here—nature is everything and its opposite . . .”
“. . . and you can’t have light without dark,” Lucy said slowly, remembering. “You can’t have birth without death. You can’t have love without heartbreak.” She paused. “This is terrible.”
Olivia smiled then. “It’s the very best part. It makes you completely safe.”
“But life isn’t safe,” said Lucy. “It’s not supposed to be. I mean, we all die in the end!” She found herself shouting now. “And while we’re here . . .” But Lucy did not know what she wanted to say. It all seemed so stupid. She wanted . . . what exactly, to be miserable? To feel the loneliness and emptiness she had before?
Lucy felt something happening inside her, a tightening that she almost didn’t recognize at first. And then she realized what it was. Longing. Longing for the life she would not, could not, have now.
When there’s something you need to know, the universe will keep whispering until you hear it . . .
Lucy gasped and raised her hands to her lips.
And right then, she heard it loud and clear.
She was part of a group of girls who broke hearts on purpose to gain things they wanted. They hurt people and pretended there was something spiritual about it. But they weren’t trying to help anyone but themselves.
When she’d joined the Heartbreakers, she’d told herself love made people weak, that it was nothing but a painful trap. But she only thought that because she was going through her own painful heartbreak and could not imagine a way out. The thing is, she didn’t have to imagine one—she would have found a way anyway. Time would have passed, and she would have gotten through it all on her own. One day she would have found someone else—a guy at the bookstore reaching for the same book that she was, a guy in her first class on her first day of college, someone walking down the street when she moved to a new city and started her first job. Or maybe she would have been riding around in Tristan’s truck one night and turned to the left and finally, finally really seen him. There was no telling what would have happened. And now she’d never know.
Unless . . .
Lucy realized what she wanted as the words left her lips. “I want my old heart back. Is there a way to undo this?”
Olivia’s face contorted. Her brow raised and nostrils flared, and her eyes opened wide. It was an expression that Lucy could not place. And it quickly turned to anger. Olivia clenched her jaw. Her voice was cold and hard. “Only an idiot would ever ask that,” she said. She got up and walked out of the room without looking back.
Lucy stood in the living room for a long time, unsure of what to do or where to go, hoping beyond reason that Olivia would come back and give her another answer. But it was clear she wasn’t going to. Finally Lucy walked back outside, got on her bike, and started the long ride home. She was almost crying. Almost. But the tears wouldn’t fall. And she remembered how when she first met Olivia, Olivia had told her, “I don’t cry over boys.” But Lucy realized what Olivia had really meant: I don’t cry at all. Heartbreakers never did.
Lucy had always been a crier. Sad things, happy things, touching things, any strong feelings would collect in her eyes and squeeze their way out. Things that would have made her teary included: animals of different species cuddling each other, people cheering while watching their loved ones in a contest, strangers helping each other, weddings and watching other people cry at weddings, people giving hopeful speeches, adults smiling in childlike delight at simple things like when someone handed them an ice-cream cone, pictures of people who have survived hurricanes, pets sitting on the graves of their dead owners. And when anyone at all looked at this messy world that didn’t make sense and from the pieces tried to make something beautiful.
Lucy sometimes wondered if being so raw all the time meant she was weak. Now she realized it had nothing to do with that at all. Being open took strength. And being like that was a gift. Life always felt meaningful because she saw meaning in everything.
But all of that was done now. She would never experience any of that ever again. Olivia had said there was no way back, and although Olivia was many things, a liar was not one of them.
Suddenly Lucy stopped her bike right there in the night in the middle of the road, and she gasped. So often we hear what we imagine someone meant instead of what they actually said. When Lucy had asked if there was a way to undo being a Heartbreaker, Olivia had said only an idiot would ask that question.
But she hadn’t said no.
Twenty-Six
For the first time in a long time, Lucy did not see any of the Heartbreakers at school, and there was no talk of their meeting up after. The next day when class was over, Lucy hopped on her bike and rode home all alone. Then she texted Olivia. Sorry about earlier. I don’t know what was wrong with me. What are you up to tonight?
A few minutes later Olivia texted back: No worries. No plans yet.
Lucy smiled. Maybe just maybe, this was going to be easier than she’d thought.
Lucy called Pete. “Hey, Pete,” she said. Her voice sounded perfectly calm, but under that cloud of nothing she could feel her pounding heart. “If I tell you something kind of secret, do you swear you’ll never tell anyone I told you?”
“Darling, of course. Unless it’s terribly good gossip, then I might.”
Lucy could hear him grinning.
“I think Olivia’s been kind of lonely lately—she’d never admit it, obviously. But I think she could use a night out with someone other than her girlfriends.” Lucy imagined Pete at home in his theater, his eyes lighting up, his pulse was quickening. “If you’re not busy, do you think you might call her and ask her to do something with you? You know, just come over and watch a movie or something? You have that big projector, right?”
Lucy knew this sounded kind of silly and possibly suspicious. But the truth of the matter is this: People will believe an awful lot of crappy lies if you’re suggesting they do what they wanted to do anyway.
“Right, right,” Pete said. “Well, I do indeed have that. Hey, cats,” Pete called in the background. “Do we have plans tonight?” And then back into the phone he said, “Nope, no plans.” She heard a moment of silence, like he was trying to play it cool. “Okay, yeah, we’ll call Olivia.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Lucy said.
Fifteen minutes after that, Lucy texted Olivia again. Want to go to a movie or something?
Lucy honestly could not imagine what going to a movie with Olivia alone would even be like. But she wasn’t going to find out anytime soon. Thirty seconds later, she received Olivia’s response: Sorry, plans now.
Lucy smiled. Stage one, complete.
Three hours later, Lucy watched as Pete slowly backed his car down Olivia’s driveway. From where she hid, in the bushes across the road, she could see the two of them in the front seat. At the bottom of the driveway, Pete leaned over and kissed Olivia hello, then sped off.
Lucy crossed the street, unlocked the gate, ran up the driveway, and let herself into the house.
She remembered the last time she’d been inside all alone—two months ago, before she was a Heartbreaker, when she was trying to steal magic to use to get Alex back. How long ago it all seemed—it felt like years instead of weeks.
Lucy went up the stairs to Olivia’s bedroom and flipped on the light. In the center of the room was an enormous bed, piled high with pillows, covered in green and gold silk. In the middle of the bed was The Book of Love. Lucy placed her ha
nd on the cover. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, as though that was a spell all of its own.
She heard a slam as someone shut the front door. Then there were footsteps on the stairs.
Crap. Lucy frantically searched for a place to hide.
“Sorry, honey pie,” Lucy heard Olivia call from outside the door. “I’ll just be a second.”
Hands shaking, Lucy flipped off the light and then threw herself into the closet. Lucy peeked through the crack between the door and the jamb and watched as Olivia opened the top drawer of her nightstand. From where she stood, Lucy caught a glimpse of what was inside—a few small potion pots, a couple of vials, and the gold flash of Olivia’s tear-catcher necklace. Olivia selected a tiny pot of lotion, opened it up, and rubbed some into her hands, her arms, and her neck. Then she dropped it back in her nightstand and closed the drawer with her hip. Lucy smelled the faint scent of almonds. Empathy Cream.
“Can I come up?” That was Pete now, shouting from the stairs. “I’m coming up, so stop me if you don’t want me to!”
Lucy held her breath and backed up farther into the cocoon of Olivia’s coats. Her ankle smashed against something in the corner of the closet. Lucy winced and bit her lip.
Through the crack, she saw Pete appear. He wrapped his arms around Olivia’s waist and pulled her toward him. Olivia turned and placed her hands on his cheeks. She closed her eyes and stood there for a moment, just holding his face. When Olivia opened her eyes again, her expression had changed. Gone was the veil of detached coolness she always wore. Her face seemed softer now somehow, as though her sharp bones had rounded themselves out. The smile on her lips was small, but real, rich, and warm. Her eyes were twinkling.
And watching her from inside the closet, thinking how very odd it was to see Olivia like that, Lucy suddenly realized she had never seen Olivia happy before right now, not even for a single moment.
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