5,331 Miles

by Aster, Willow

  “Welcome to Hotel Le St-James,” he says.

  Jaxson hands the keys to the valet and we walk inside.

  “Wow,” Jaxson says under his breath. “This is a nice little layover.”

  It feels like we’ve stepped into another time. The ceilings are beautiful white domes, which balance out the dark wood elsewhere. The marble floors gleam with beautiful rugs toning down the acoustics. I admire the intricate furnishings and for a moment I don’t even remember Paris. While Jaxson works on getting us a room, I wander around a little, venturing into an area that makes my mouth drop. Circular wooden bookshelves hold old and new books alike and I let my fingers run against the spines.

  I feel Jaxson before I see him, the hair on the back of my neck rising in awareness when he steps close behind me. I feel his breath against my cheek as he leans in. I should step away, I really should.

  “I won’t be able to get you out of here, will I?” His voice sounds husky and my heartbeat picks up.

  I look at him and it’s a mistake. He’s so close our noses brush against each other.

  “I could eat,” I whisper.

  He laughs and the spell is broken. “Let’s feed you then. Right after we check out our room…hey, about the room. I hope it’s okay that I just got one.”

  “Of course. I already feel bad about you spending so much money.”

  We walk to the elevator and he grins, waiting for me—I will always be the kid who wants to push the elevator button. I smile back and jump when the elevator dings.

  “Please don’t think about the money, Bells,” he says. “I’ve been saving for this trip since we made the list.”

  “What?” I stare at him.

  He holds my gaze, his eyes bright. “You heard me.”

  “I didn’t think you could still manage to surprise me, but…” I shake my head.

  When he opens the door to our room, I realize how much trouble I’m in. The room is a dream. Inviting, romantic, with a plush bed and a fireplace. A trunk sits at the end of the bed and I sigh, my romantic sensibilities firing off in rapid speed. One bed.

  “I can sleep on the floor, of course. This room just sounded the best.”

  I decide to worry about the bed situation when it’s time to sleep, which fortunately, is not now.

  “I’ll just freshen up,” I tell him.

  I take my suitcase into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror, the panic forcing me to look away. This is nothing, I tell myself. Just a few days with an old friend. Nothing is going to happen. It will give me closure. That’s all. “That’s all,” I tell my reflection fiercely, daring her to disagree.

  When I’ve got my makeup just right and have washed and reapplied deodorant, I slip on my dress…one I haven’t worn before. It’s not overly dressy, but what I think of as a vacation dress. Black with a few tiny flowers, very short but not slutty…at least I hope that’s the effect. I walk out and Jaxson’s mouth drops.

  “Your turn,” I say nonchalantly. “I’m done in there.”

  I hear him curse under his breath as he takes his things into the bathroom. Before he shuts the door, he says, “You steal my breath, Mira.” He pokes his head out the door. “You’ve always been the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  My heart puddles somewhere between my ankles and the floor. I want to look away, but I can’t. Finally, he pulls back and shuts the door. I hear him start the shower.

  Shaken, I try to ignore my fluttering chest. I put on my fabulous sandals that are just high enough that I won’t wobble and sit on the chair near the fireplace. Staring at the bed, I think of his words and as much as I try to resist, my past insecurities bubble up to the surface. I lift my eyes to the ceiling and will myself to not cry. I can’t mess up all the work I just put into my face.

  He doesn’t mean what he said. He’s the best liar I know.

  13

  Past

  Sept 2011

  I’m going to die of sadness, D. I am one catastrophe short of death. I know you think I’m dramatic, but I mean it this time.

  Truly,

  Mira

  A faint rapping on my door made me jump. I had my dress over my head and was frantically trying to pull it down over my lumpy stomach. It took me twenty minutes to get my new contacts in, so I was already late and crabby before trying to suck in enough to get this dress on.

  “Mira? Can I come in?” my mother asked.

  I tried to respond, but it came out muffled beneath the fabric.

  She opened my bedroom door and I could barely see her through all the material still around my head, but she looked concerned.

  “Oh dear, what happened? That fit when we bought it a few weeks ago.”

  I pulled and the awful sound of my dress ripping made us both gasp. My mum helped me get the dress off and when she found the tear, four of her fingers waved through the hole.

  “I can’t go to this party,” I sobbed, plopping down on the bed.

  “You can’t miss your own party,” my mother said. She set the dress down and put her hand on my shoulder, her gaze wandering down my body and narrowing in on the rolls. When she met my eyes again, she bit her lip and tried to put on an encouraging smile. “I’m sure there’s something else you can wear. I know…why don’t you look in my closet.”

  I groaned and cried harder. My mom dressed like an old lady, even my dad used to say so. She came back with a black dress slung over her arm. I recognized it instantly. She used to wear it on date nights with my dad, back before she went through her divorce weight loss. Nothing that a girl celebrating her thirteenth birthday should be caught dead in, but it was better than my new holey dress.

  “This will be beautiful with your translucent skin,” she said, handing me the dress.

  “I’ll look like a corpse. The sun hates me.” I fell back on my bed and then curled up in a ball. “I told you I didn’t want a party, Mum. I just want to hang out with Tyra and watch movies. Stay up late, make cookies…”

  Her lips tightened with annoyance, but she sat down on the bed and took my hand.

  “Has something happened between you and Jaxson, sweetheart?”

  “No…we just don’t…” My lip trembled and more tears fell down my cheeks. “We’re still friends. But it’s different. He’s different. He has so many new friends who are as beautiful and popular as he is and I’m still just me. And now to top it off, we’re at different schools.” I choked back a sob.

  “Oh honey, popularity has never mattered to Jaxson. He’s not about that.” She sniffed and patted my shoulder. “And you’ll be right there with him next year in high school…”

  It took everything in me not to argue with her. These days Jaxson was riding high on all the attention he got. And now that they had endless money to spend, he had the best of everything. Sometimes I wondered if the boy who said he couldn’t wait to explore life with me was gone forever.

  “Come on, let’s get your face washed and you’ll feel better,” Mum insisted.

  I rolled my eyes until they hurt but let her pull me into the bathroom, where I tolerated her wiping a cold, wet washcloth across my face. It seemed to make her feel better. I still felt like dying inside, but she definitely perked up.

  “We have fifteen of your friends coming in a half hour. I can do your makeup if you want.”

  “They’re not my friends,” I muttered, but she either ignored it or didn’t hear me. “I can do my own makeup.”

  “Fine.” Her shoulders sagged, but she let me move past her to my bedroom.

  There wasn’t much I could do to improve my puffy eyes, but I did my best. I thought about putting my glasses back on.

  When Tyra got there ten minutes later, she screeched, “What happened to you?”

  And instead of being mortified, I laughed. “That’s what I love about you,” I told her. “You don’t try to sugarcoat anything.”

  “I can help.” She pulled out her cosmetic bag from her purse and held her bottom lip between he
r teeth while she fixed me up.

  When I turned to look in the mirror, my mouth dropped. I looked like an eighties porn star. Or what I’d expect them to look like—I’d never really seen a porn star…that I knew of. My mom would die when she saw me in all this makeup. She’d only just started letting me wear it.

  “I didn’t know you had blue eye shadow,” I said. “I’ve never seen you wear it.”

  “It’s not good on me, but look how blue it makes your eyes look,” she said. “We can really see them now that they’re not hidden behind your glasses.”

  My lips were so glossed, every hair and dust mite in the hundred-mile radius would attach to my mouth like little magnet particles.

  “Are you sure this is working?” I asked. I mean, she did always look so good. And it did make me look at least fifteen and a half.

  “You look sensational. I just think you need a belt with that dress. It doesn’t show your curves at all.”

  “I think maybe that’s the idea…”

  “All these girls are so skinny they don’t have any boobs. Cinch that waist and your chest will be all any guy will notice.”

  I wasn’t sure her theory was true, and I didn’t really care about any guy but one…but there wasn’t time to think about it. She threw a wide black belt at me as the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll answer the door. You wait here until everyone arrives and then make a grand entrance!” Her eyes were wide and she looked more excited than I’d seen her since her birthday. “You look beautiful,” she said sweetly before she went out the door.

  I wouldn’t wait until everyone got there—that would be too much attention on me—but I looked out the window to draw out the solitude a little longer. A tree mostly blocked my window, but I could still see part of the driveway. A group of girls, Derek, and Jaxson were strolling toward the house, laughing, and taking their time. They all looked like they belonged here, with their smiles and tans and perfect clothes and bodies.

  I swallowed hard and pulled away but then saw something that made my heart clatter inside my chest. Jaxson pulled Heather by the hand and then kept holding it…not friends swinging hand-holding, but the entwined fingerhold. Heather looked at Jaxson and smiled, hearts where her pupils had been.

  I stepped away from the window like I’d been shot and sat down on the bed. And then I hopped back up. He’d been mine my whole life. I couldn’t give up so easily, could I? I glanced in my mirror with uncertainty before I stopped living inside my head and went out to face the music.

  * * *

  The room went silent when I entered it. I smiled and then felt gloss on my teeth. I tried to turn and subtly swipe my teeth before turning to everyone again. Danielle and Giselle were closest to me and I heard them laugh.

  “Oh my god, what is she wearing?” Giselle said.

  I squared my shoulders and turned my back on them just as Tyra called me over. There were about ten people standing and sitting in various awkward arrangements, each looking as uncomfortable as I felt. Music played softly in the background and I was glad for that or the room would be silent. When the door opened and Jaxson came in with the others, I had to remember that if everything else went wrong with this birthday party, I’d make it right by fighting for him.

  * * *

  The party was torture. My mom and Anne had a few games they wanted us to play, but none of the kids were interested in them. Tyra and I tried, but everyone else stood talking by the food or sitting against the wall. I had a hard time paying attention to anything but the couple huddled in the corner. Jaxson had come over to hug me and wish me a happy birthday, but then Heather had dragged him to the corner and they were in a deep discussion.

  Anne saw me staring at them and gave me a sympathetic look, but our attention was diverted when the front door slammed. Jaxson followed Heather out the door, and I didn’t think, I just moved quickly. They were already around the corner when I stepped outside, and I paused, not sure if she was crying or just whiny.

  “It’s our anniversary, I don’t know why we have to be at this party,” Heather said. “You don’t even really hang out with her anymore.”

  I put my hand over my mouth and stayed still, wishing I’d stayed inside. Anniversary?

  “Come back inside,” Jaxson said. “I can’t leave yet. I told you—my mom made me come. She said I’d be grounded for a month if I didn’t get over here.”

  “Haven’t you told your mom you don’t want to be friends with Mira anymore? I thought you were going to.”

  “My mom wouldn’t understand. She doesn’t know how much Mira has changed.”

  Everything felt hot: my skin, my clothes, my shoes…the belt. I couldn’t breathe.

  “She’s so serious now, always lurking in the corner, watching me, following me…trying to be part of the crowd when she doesn’t fit in. I think she’s insecure about her weight, but I wish she’d do something about it if that’s how she feels.”

  My fist squeezed tighter against my mouth, and I tried to stop it but a sob broke out.

  “What was that?” I heard him ask and I turned and ran before he could see me.

  I shut the door quietly and was going to run up the stairs, but Derek blocked me. “Mira, what’s wrong?” He put his hands on my arms then led me into the office when he saw that I was crying.

  “I don’t fit in here. I never will,” I told him.

  He put his arms around me and let me cry. I appreciated that he didn’t try to tell me otherwise.

  * * *

  Jaxson and Heather came back in around the time I was opening presents. When I got to his present, he came and stood next to me, smiling sweetly. Such a hypocrite. I stared through him until he became fidgety.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked when I just held the box in my hands.

  Instead of answering, I finally ripped the package open. Inside the box was a huge leather-bound book with my name engraved on the bottom right corner. It was beautiful. I looked at it for so long, my mom bumped my arm.

  “You still journal, hopefully?” He looked at his mum to make sure he had it right—that it was, in fact, a journal.

  “That’s gorgeous, isn’t it, honey? Jaxson, that is so thoughtful. Tell him thank you, Mira,” my mum said.

  I found Anne and held up the book. “Thank you, Anne. This is really thoughtful.”

  Anne tilted her head and smiled. “Jaxson picked it out, but you’re welcome.”

  I looked at Jaxson then and leaned in so only he could hear. “You have everyone fooled but me. I wish you’d told me yourself that we aren’t friends anymore. It would’ve saved you all the time and money you put into this gift. Oh, wait…you have more than enough money to waste now.”

  His mouth dropped and he grabbed my arm. “Bells, what’s going on? What do you mean? You’re my best friend,” he whispered urgently.

  I yanked my arm away. “You’re a liar, and I never, ever want to see you again. Ever!”

  I backed away from him and then while everyone stared at us in confusion, I ran to my bedroom and locked the door.

  I didn’t speak to Jaxson again until I was forced to the following year.

  14

  Present

  He sings and I am putty in his hands, Diary.

  I don’t dare tell him that, but I just thought you should know.

  “Is something wrong?”

  We’re at the hotel restaurant, which is one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen. The bite of food I try is out of this world, but I’m moving it around on my plate, swirling it when Jaxson speaks. I look up at him and set my fork down.

  “I’m fine,” I answer quietly.

  “Something changed while I was in the shower. You’ve been looking at me like…you hate me again.”

  “Who says I ever stopped?” I ask, picking up my fork and continuing to make pictures on my plate with the pretty food.

  “Bells,” he whispers, his voice plaintive and sad.

  I would feel bad for h
im if not for the fact that he’s the one who created this divide.

  “I don’t know how to get past everything, Jaxson. I really don’t. I thought I could, but then…I remember.”

  “You said you’d give me Paris.” He tries to smile, but instead, he looks in pain. “I know we’re on Plan B here, but can we please put everything in the past for this week?”

  “You say that—put everything in the past—but you don’t mean it because the very list itself is the past. Our friendship is the past and you want to pull it out when it’s convenient and skim over the parts where you screwed up. That’s not really putting things in the past at all.”

  He’s staring at me with a piece of steak hanging on his fork, eyes unblinking. “I like when you get indignant,” he says finally. “It suits you. Eyes all fiery and whatnot.”

  I take a sip of my wine—the legal drinking age in Montreal is nineteen, how convenient is that—and then decide, what the heck, I’ll guzzle the whole glass. Jaxson pours another glass and I take a few bites of food before having the second glass.

  “You’re right, you know. Guilty.” He makes a goofy face but quickly sobers. “I guess I keep hoping there is a new us. One that remembers what is beautiful about us but also makes new and better memories.” He leans in. “When I think back on us, I only feel the love. And I’m afraid when you look back on everything, all you feel is the sadness.” He looks so devastated that my eyes fill and I have to look away. “I really would like a chance to change that.”

  “Let’s just try to get through this week,” I tell him.

  “Like you’re being tortured,” he mutters.

  “No…” I jump in. “More like I don’t want to figure out who we will be after this week. I just want to be right here, right now.”