Taking a breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, mouth open, skin wet with tears. Her face was probably a swollen mess, but she didn’t care.
The next thing she knew she’d climbed on top of him, straddling him, kissing him even more deeply. He was holding on to her and kissing her too, but she knew—even then, through the blur of alcohol and emotion—that he didn’t feel what she did. He wasn’t vulnerable or insecure.
She ran her fingernails up and down his back, lightly at first, then hard. Breaking skin? He pushed her back with a jolting roughness, looked her in the eye like he was trying to decide something.
“I just . . . I like you,” she said.
Please like me back.
She couldn’t read his face, but it didn’t matter. She’d already made her decision. Made it on shame and adrenaline, desire and urgency. She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. As they stretched out on the floor, the house of cards came down again. This time, no one made any effort to rebuild it.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to revel in the moment and ignore an ugly little doubt in the back of her mind.
It won’t be okay later.
He lay down, letting her do the work. She didn’t quite know what she was doing, but she could improvise. Come to think of it, she’d been improvising ever since she’d arrived at Coventon.
CHAPTER SIX
When Ethan walked into the room, he had a spray bottle of Fantastik—not Windex—in his hand. He wore an apron, too. A flowery number with ruffles. Saskia might have laughed if she weren’t so mortified.
“Are you serious right now?” he asked.
Somehow she and Josh had ended up on the bed. They were on top of a rumpled quilt. Josh didn’t have his jeans on, and Saskia’s skirt was twisted around her waist. Flushed with embarrassment, she scrambled to pull it down.
Clearly the party was over. The heavy thud of bass no longer pounded up through the floorboards. No more muffled laughter or voices, either. She had a headache, a bitter taste in her mouth, and the sense that things had gone wrong, very wrong, although how or when she didn’t know. She wondered what time it was, if Lila was still here or if she and Josh were the last ones.
“Sorry, man,” Josh said. Without looking at her, he got up.
“I told you not to come up upstairs,” chided Ethan, the nozzle of the Fantastik bottle aimed at Josh’s head.
“I know, I know. We just . . .” Josh said.
“And now on top of everything else, I gotta wash the bedding. Damn.”
Saskia put her hands over her face. She wished she could teleport herself back home.
“I’ll help you clean up?” Josh offered.
Ethan shook his head. “No, just get outta here. Scat.”
Josh slunk out of the room. Not knowing what to do, Saskia shambled out behind him, head down, sure that her hair looked tangled and feral. The house was quiet and still. But the lights were on, and she caught sight of another boy—an older, taller version of Ethan—wiping down the kitchen counter.
“Come on,” Josh whispered, finally acknowledging her. “This way.” She let herself be led once again. “You gotta ride?” he asked her when they were outside.
She looked around, not seeing Lila’s car. “I don’t know.”
It all depended on where Lila was, probably home by now. Saskia wondered if she should call her dad, then remembered that she’d left her cell in the Buick. She couldn’t bear the thought of asking Josh if she could use his, or of asking anything of Ethan.
She decided walking wouldn’t be so bad. Her shoes were comfortable. The fresh air might sober her up. She wasn’t sure of the way, but she’d figure it out. Eventually.
“You need a ride or not?” Josh sounded petulant, put out.
The night air felt humid and warm, and the sky was that hazy kind of color that looked like old lace. If she’d heard anything other than reluctance in his voice, even common courtesy, she would have accepted.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said.
Two seconds later he was jogging briskly up the street, a long, lean shadow with flopping hair. Exhaling, she looked right and left, trying to get her bearings. She had no idea which way to walk. She’d always been lousy with directions, and Coventon was still so new. All she knew for certain was that home was a good five miles away, at least.
She was still in the same place, trying to pick—right or left?—when she heard footsteps, and a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Josh, jogging back. Maybe he’d be a gentleman and insist on driving her home. He stopped in front her, breathless.
Neither spoke. It was probably only two seconds, but to Saskia it felt like two years.
“Listen, I like you, too,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yeah. You seem like a cool girl—I mean, from what I know.”
She tried to look into his eyes, but they were averted.
“You’d probably make a great girlfriend, too,” he continued. “But the thing is, I’m not looking for a relationship. Not right now. I’m not in that headspace, know what I mean?”
She nodded.
“It’s, like, the timing—not you.”
“The timing,” she echoed, her stomach churning.
“I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of . . .”
Ass?
“Jerk,” he continued.
“I don’t think anything.”
“I’m just looking for something short-term. Something . . . loose.”
Loose, like you think I am?
“I’m not looking for anything serious, either. I mean, I just got here!”
She didn’t sound particularly convincing to her own ears. Then again, at least she wasn’t crying. It was a step in the right direction.
“I just don’t want you to think I’m that guy. That jerk that never calls back.”
You said it, not me.
“I don’t think anything,” she repeated.
“So we’re good?” He was finally looking at her. Damn, she wished those eyes weren’t so extraordinary.
“We’re good.”
“All right.” He leaned in for a hug. She gave him a pat on the back. “I’ll see ya, Saskia.”
When he sprinted off again, she took the headband out of her pocket. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she’d swiped it. A keepsake. Memento. She thumbed it gently for a moment, then stretched it as far as she could, to its breaking point. When it snapped, she tossed it to the curb.
She decided to walk the opposite way as Josh. God forbid he think she was following him. Saskia Brown: wayward stalker, she thought sarcastically. She’d made it a few blocks when she realized a car was following her. Freaked out, she froze. What kind of driver sidled up to a lone girl in the middle of the night? Someone on the Most Wanted list, that was who. She got ready to run. But then she recognized the vehicle.
A second later Lila herself leaned over to open the passenger-side door. “Get in,” she ordered.
“I’m sorry,” Saskia said.
“You should be.”
Inside the car, Saskia gnawed nervously on her nails. She wasn’t sure what more to say. She wasn’t even sure Lila would tolerate any excuses. Cocooned in the dark interior, they fell silent.
The car’s clock read 3:17. Saskia had never stayed out so late before. She found her phone wedged between the seat cushions and responded to her father’s three million texts. The last one indicated he was about to call the police.
S: be home soon, dad! sorry!!!!! everything. we had a flat. AAA on its way
F: Where are you? I’ll pick you up!
She ignored his response and looked out the window. Lila drove slowly, below the speed limit. Despite the hour, she evidently was in no rush to get h
ome. Nor was Saskia. While her father didn’t ask a lot of questions, he’d want to know what had happened. She didn’t want to lie to him. But she didn’t want to tell him the truth either.
As the miles ticked by, her hand trailed out the window. She wasn’t quite sure where Lila was going, and she didn’t quite care.
“So you’re really not going to say anything?” Lila asked finally.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“What happened back at Ethan’s?”
Saskia wished she’d had more time to think it through, everything, every word and action, from the moment she and Josh had flirted in the basement till Ethan had found them in the bedroom. It was like she’d fallen in love and broken up all in a matter of hours, her emotions running the gamut from anticipation to exhilaration to anger to shame. And now all she had to show for it was a broken headband. Actually, she didn’t even have that.
“You didn’t have to drive around looking for me,” she said.
“Yeah, I did. You can’t just roam around in the dark.”
“I thought Coventon was safe.”
Lila sighed and adjusted the old telephone book she was sitting on. She was so short she needed a boost to look over the dash. “There are crazy people everywhere—even Coventon.”
She slowed down in front of a McDonald’s, then turned into the drive-through.
“You’re hungry?” Saskia asked.
“Very.”
Lila paused a full minute before the lit-up menu, then ordered like it was her last meal: two Double Cheeseburgers and Chicken McNuggets. “Want something?” she asked Saskia.
“Yeah, might as well. Fries. Small—no, large.”
When they got their bag of food, Lila found a parking spot and cut the engine. Saskia bit into a French fry and breathed a sigh of relief. She felt suddenly safer, like the darkness and cozy warmth inside the car somehow insulated her from the embarrassment and anguish outside of it. Like she and Lila were untouchable. Sometimes girls can create secret, safe havens for themselves, she thought.
Sometimes they have to.
Rustling through the bag, Lila found a packet of salt. She ripped it open and deposited the contents into her mouth.
“I’ve never seen anyone do that,” Saskia said, shaking her head. “You’re gonna get high blood pressure.”
Lila ground salt between her teeth. “I probably already have it.”
“But you wanna be a doctor! Why are you doing something so unhealthy?”
“Everyone has their vices.”
“I guess.”
“Hey, is your dad gonna be mad?”
“I told him we had a flat.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, so if he asks,” Saskia said, “AAA came and fixed it.”
“Okay.”
“Will your mom be mad?”
“No. I don’t have a curfew.”
“Really?”
Lila took a bite of burger and chewed thoughtfully. “My mom figures she doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m on the honor roll. The president of Western Connecticut State said I’m eligible for a scholarship if I keep up my GPA and continue with my job. I’m her golden child.” She reached over to take a few of Saskia’s fries.
Saskia handed over another packet of salt. “You must have the fastest metabolism,” she remarked. Seeing Lila stuff herself, she couldn’t help but think of Lorelei and Rory, the Gilmore girls, who guzzled down junk food but had no body fat. It was a Hollywood illusion—the idea that you could eat whatever you wanted and still fit into size-two jeans. But in Lila’s case, maybe it was true.
“Not really. I just don’t care about my weight.” Lila glanced sidelong at Saskia. “So what happened at the party?”
Saskia turned to look out the window. Then she took a deep breath and let the story pour out, every detail, even the embarrassing brush-off in front of Ethan’s house. “I guess it was nothing—to him,” she finished.
“Was it something to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how did you expect him to act—after?”
“I don’t know,” Saskia repeated. “I thought maybe hooking up could be the beginning of something.”
“Like a relationship?”
She shrugged uncomfortably.
“Saskia, don’t you know that guys will do anything to get into your pants? When they’re hooking up, they’re not thinking about relationships.”
“I guess I’m kind of ignorant about stuff like that,” Saskia admitted, cringing. “Have you ever hooked up with a guy and regretted it?”
“Me? No.”
“Why?”
“Various reasons.”
“Name one.”
“Well, I don’t want to get stuck with a kid, for one,” Lila said. “No way I’m going to end up like my mother.”
“So no sex until marriage?”
“No sex until after med school. Until I’m financially secure.”
“God, listen to you. You sound so responsible.”
Lila shrugged. “Someone has to be. But it’s not like I’m perfect. I have issues like everyone else.”
“Do you think Josh has issues?”
“Sure. His girlfriend, for one.”
Saskia turned to Lila so fast she got whiplash. “But Josh is single.”
“Technically single. You’re new—you don’t know the history. He and Paige are always on and off.”
“I thought they were broken up.”
“They’re never really broken up.”
“Oh.” Over the course of the night, Saskia had felt like a loser and a reject. Now she felt like a backstabber, too. Not that she was close to Paige—she barely knew her—but still.
“Yeah, they’re thick as thieves,” Lila continued. “It’s been that way since elementary school. In second grade he used to like My Little Pony just because she did. They would play sparkly horses every day at recess, swear to god.”
“Why are they ‘on and off’?” she asked.
“Who knows? They’re tormented. Star-crossed. Like Romeo and Juliet without the suicide.”
“God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Hey, what’s done is done. And it’s not like Paige ever has to know.”
Saskia smiled ruefully. Just knowing Lila understood made her feel a little better.
As they finished up their food, her phone beeped. Another harried text from her father, probably, or maybe her mother checking in. Then again, why would her mother think about her in the middle of the night? She was probably cuddling in bed with Ralph. Saskia tossed the cell into the back seat.
“Listen,” Lila said, “from now on if we’re at a party or whatever, we tell each other what’s going on. Everything. No secrets. Deal?”
She stuck out her hand to shake on it.
Saskia thought, This must be what growing up is all about: discovering that people aren’t always what they seem. Realizing that someone you’ve loved your whole life doesn’t love you back, and that the bond you have with a new friend is a hundred times stronger than the frayed and unraveling one you left behind.
She took Lila’s hand in her own and held it fast. She felt almost shy meeting Lila’s eyes. “Deal,” she replied.
Back at home Saskia tried to keep her story simple. Her father was pacing the kitchen, his brow furrowed into deep ridges, a mug of coffee in his hand. She sat at the kitchen table chewing gum and hoping that her breath didn’t smell like beer.
“Why did it take the AAA person so long to come?” her father asked.
“Actually, he came pretty quick, but he had a hard time. He said he needed a special tool.”
“What kind of special tool?”
Simple, sh
e reminded herself. “Like a socket wrench?” She was surprised she could remember the name of any wrench. She still got flat-head and Phillips screwdrivers mixed up.
Her father looked at her skeptically. “He didn’t have a socket wrench?”
“Not the right one, I guess.”
“Lila must have special tires if they require special tools.”
“I guess.”
“She must,” her father insisted, “if it took hours to replace one.”
Saskia nodded noncommittally.
“And how was the party?”
“Good, Dad.”
“A lot of kids you know from school?”
“Yeah, a few.”
“And you had a good time?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You hung out mostly with Lila?”
“Mostly. Lila and a couple other girls.”
Her father stopped pacing and stared at the floor. She wondered if he was thinking what she was: he sounded like her mother. The breakneck questions were all too familiar. Or maybe he knew she was lying and wondering whether he ought to confront her or let it go. Then again, maybe he was just glad she was home safe.
She kept chewing her gum, trying not to fidget.
Finally he sighed. “We should probably head to bed,” he said. The tone of his voice had shifted from dubious and concerned to tired and defeated. “My shift starts in three hours. Do you want me to wake you up before I go?”
“Lord, no.”
“So you’ll be on your own tomorrow. Don’t skip breakfast, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t forget to call or text me if you go out.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, then,” he said, kissing her on top of her head. “You sure you don’t have anything else to tell me?”
“Good night, Dad.”
Alone in her room, Saskia felt like an anvil had been lifted off her shoulders.
Lying down, she clasped the daguerreotype to her chest. But she was restless; there was something she couldn’t get off her mind. She ran through the night she’d seen Cornelius, as she had so many times before, but this time she backtracked. She reexamined the whole evening from beginning to end: eating dinner with her father while watching Gilmore Girls; driving with Lila and listening to the story behind the dragonfly; venturing for the first time into the Howard and Alice Steerkemp Daguerreotypes Collection; learning the steps required to make daguerreotypes; marveling at how liquid mercury seemed to respond to her touch, almost like it were a living organism . . .
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