“Totally. I wish girls dressed like this now.”
“You can. In fact, you should.”
“But it reeks!”
“Mothballs. You’ll get over it.”
“Is there any way to get rid of the smell?”
“Try hanging it outside for a day,” Sara Beth suggested, “and letting it air out.”
Adrienne held the dress against her body to see if it would fit.
“Go ahead, try it on,” Paige said.
“Are your parents home?” Adrienne asked.
“Are they ever?”
Adrienne giggled and shimmied out of her clothes. In her bra and panties, she lifted the gown gingerly over her head. Paige helped her straighten it out and fasten a row of hooks and eyes on the back. In an instant Adrienne was transformed into a ghostly gothic bride, the fabric an even sharper contrast to her fiery red hair than her pallid skin. The train accentuated her height, making her seem regal, an ethereal beauty.
Before she knew it, Saskia was digging through the trunk. She wanted the same metamorphosis, this kind of transformation. But even the largest dresses looked too small. She didn’t bother to try them on. Embarrassed, she dug deeper, until her hands skimmed the bottom of the trunk. One of them brushed something small and hard. A tarnished medal.
“Paige?” she asked, dangling the trinket.
“Ooh, you found it.”
“Found what?”
“Surprise number three.”
Saskia studied it: a round silver medal attached to a ribbon with faded stripes of blue, yellow, red, white, and green. On one side of the medal was the face of a young Queen Victoria. On the reverse Saskia made out a palm tree in the background, and a shield and cannon in the foreground. Emblazoned across the bottom was the word CHINA.
“It’s from the Royal Navy. You know, the British equivalent of our Navy,” Paige said, glancing at the medal as she, too, began changing into an ancient gown. “It’s Sam’s. When I visited him last night, he gave it to me. I have to tell you something: he enlisted.”
“He joined the Royal Navy?!”
“Yeah, that’s why he got the pin. It was given to all the men who fought in the Second China War.”
“What?”
“The Second China War,” Paige repeated. “I looked it up. It was also called the Second Opium War. I guess between 1857 and 1860, British and French militaries fought against China.”
“Why the heck would Sam want to fight against China?”
Paige bit her bottom lip fretfully. “So . . . he wasn’t accepted as Lord Tennyson’s protégé. Someone else got picked. Not only that, but Tennyson wrote a letter to Sam saying that he thought Sam’s talent was mediocre. At best.”
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah, I know. Sam was devastated. Beyond devastated. I told him Tennyson’s opinion isn’t everything. Who cares what that old geezer thinks? But that didn’t make him feel any better.”
“So what happens now?” Saskia asked.
“He leaves soon. Tomorrow or the next day. For China! And he told me he doesn’t want to see anybody—even me—when he sets sail. He said he needs time to ‘grieve.’”
“He’s taking it hard, huh?”
“Very.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be back.” Paige’s voice quavered. “A lot of British men were wounded. Some were killed.” She blinked away a tear. “That’s why he gave me his medal. To remember him. You know, just in case.”
Saskia helped button the back of Paige’s bodice. She worried the ancient velvet buttons would break from the pressure of her fingertips. “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but our Forever Boyfriends have already passed away, right? So maybe we don’t need to worry about how they died. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”
Paige mulled that over. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I’m terrified for him.”
“These relationships are so complicated,” Saskia lamented. “I wish our guys came with instructions.”
“I know,” Paige said. “They are complicated. And yours is probably the most complicated of all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that . . . you know.” Paige turned around and met Saskia’s gaze. “On top of everything else, your Forever Boyfriend was married.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s such a big deal.”
“Wasn’t he married for a really long time?”
“Yeah.”
“And wasn’t he married with children?”
Saskia didn’t like the accusatory tone that had seeped into Paige’s voice. “He and I—we’re just friends.”
“Come on, Saskia . . .”
“No! We just talk. Nothing else.”
“But you’ve admitted you like him.”
Saskia bristled. She felt even more annoyed when she realized the other girls were listening in on their conversation. “I guess I do. But I know he’s off-limits.”
“I just wonder why you picked him, that’s all. Why pick someone who’s taken?”
“Because I liked Cornelius.”
Paige shrugged. “Well, if you’re fine with it . . .”
On the defensive, Saskia changed the subject. She nodded toward the pin. “So how did you bring that back, anyway?”
“Sam gave it to me, like I told you. When I woke up, it was in my bed.”
“I tried to take something home once. It didn’t work.” She told Paige about the newspaper Cornelius had bought her. “What did you do differently?”
“Maybe I’m just luckier.”
In that moment, a tiny part of Saskia wanted to slap the superior smile off Paige’s face. The intensity of that desire seeped into her quickly and dangerously, like water pouring through a hole in a boat, threatening a capsize. She loved Paige, but if Saskia were being a hundred percent truthful, she resented Paige, too. Everything came so easy to her. She could buy anything she wanted, have any guy in the world, and was beautiful on top of it. Even now, in an elaborate Victorian dress that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, Paige seemed to Saskia like a glamorous extra from the movie A Room with a View.
“Congratulations,” she told Paige, struggling to suppress her simmering annoyance. “If Sam gave you that, he must really care.”
“He even used the L word.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Second time I’ve ever heard it. The first was from Josh, of course.”
Saskia almost flinched. “Did you say it back—to Sam?”
“No way. He has to work for it.”
At that, Paige departed to help her sister button up a dress, leaving Saskia to her own thoughts.
Saskia found herself clutching the medal so hard that Queen Victoria’s face imprinted itself on her palm. Pensively, she stared at her indented flesh. Paige had touched a nerve. A raw nerve. Even if nothing physical had happened with Cornelius, Saskia knew their relationship wasn’t really platonic. She didn’t think of him as a friend. And she didn’t go to see him because of friendship.
In all honesty, deep down, she did feel dirty about the relationship. Cornelius’s wife wouldn’t have approved of his spending so much time with another woman, just as Saskia’s father never approved of Saskia’s mother spending time with Ralph, claiming she was his “professional mentor.” Comparing the two situations made Saskia queasy.
She brightened a little when Sara Beth turned on music. She watched Paige and Adrienne clasp each other’s hands with mock seriousness and dance to a waltz. They moved about the room like whirling tops. Suddenly, Saskia remembered one of her SAT prep words: anachronism. A person or thing that belongs to another time. That was exactly how Paige and Adrienne looked—like people who had stepped out of history.
At the end of the song, Paige slipped
on the train of Adrienne’s dress. Adrienne grabbed her to keep her from falling, but both girls tumbled to the floor, giggling. When they made no effort to get back up, Sara Beth knelt down and handed them pretty red drinks in martini glasses.
“Cosmos?” asked Paige. “You read my mind.”
“Don’t I always?”
Sara Beth handed Saskia one of the glasses, too. She had heard of cosmopolitans before but until now had never seen one. Yet one more new experience, care of the Sampras sisters . . . As she sipped the drink, the sour kick of lime on her tongue, the music went from classical to pop, the volume turned up so loud the room vibrated.
Saskia moved her head to the beat, and then Lila got her dancing. It felt good to let go, to toss her hair, throw up her hands, and forget herself in the music. Soon, she and Lila leaped onto a coffee table, then a couch, then an ottoman. Jumping around for the hell of it, like hyper little kids, flying and free.
Paige handed her another drink. Saskia swallowed it in one go, feeling invincible. She spun in a circle, faster and faster, her unruly curls flying around her face. Even when she stopped, the room kept spinning, ’round and ’round, a never-ending carousel. She collapsed in a fit of laughter, watching the girls from the floor. They seemed larger than life, prancing around in their glamorous dresses from bygone eras, faces glistening.
Paige suggested the pool. Saskia thought it was the best idea she’d ever heard. The girls doffed their clothes—even Saskia, who’d drunk enough to finally stop body-shaming herself—and trekked out the back door. In a wild pack, they dashed to the edge of the pool and leaped in, bobbing to the surface one by one. Saskia felt a little dizzy, and her ears rang. Paige engaged her in a splash fight, but Saskia found the spray in her eyes disorienting.
“Stop!” she cried angrily.
“Are you mad at me, Sask? Don’t be. I mentioned Cornelius’s family because you’re better than that. Better than him.”
At that, Paige flipped over and kicked her way to the other side of the pool.
Saskia watched her disappear, then disappeared, too, air bubbling out of her lungs, body feeling lead heavy. She let herself sink to the bottom and linger there, mesmerized by the mosaic scene on the floor. Jeweled glass in shades of violet, turquoise, cerulean, and emerald. There were creatures in the mosaic she had never noticed before. Winged creatures, birds or butterflies. Or were they dragonflies? Saskia couldn’t tell; her eyes were stinging from the chlorine.
The creatures started to stir. To dance. Drink had clouded her mind, and now water was filling her mouth. Still, she traced a pair of wings with her fingertip over and over, until her eyes closed, until the water streamed down her throat. She tried to cough, but choked instead.
A spasm seized her, violent and eruptive. Suddenly she felt terrified. Which way was up? Why was her body fighting itself? Who had left her here, confused and alone?
These were the questions raging through her mind when Lila raced down to get her in the nick of time, grabbing her arm and forcefully yanking her to the surface.
The next morning Saskia clambered out of bed, drank about a gallon of water, and promptly threw up on her own feet. Wincing, she touched her spinning head. She had a vague memory of Lila unlocking the front door for her late at night and putting her to bed. Saskia made a mental note to thank Lila later.
She called out for her dad, at once wanting his help and thankful that he wasn’t home to see her in such a state. Hastily, she wiped up the mess, washed off her feet, and stumbled toward the kitchen. She saw a Post-it from him on the counter; his shift had started even before she’d arrived home last night. He’d reminded her to eat breakfast and left a list of chores for her to do.
“Great,” she muttered.
She poured a glass of orange juice and drank it down fast. Big mistake. More puke on the floor, but at least she missed her feet this time. Drained of energy, feeling like roadkill, she dragged herself back to bed.
Two hours later, she woke up again. Her head still ached, but at least it wasn’t spinning anymore. She fetched a Tylenol and took a sip of water. Cautiously, she drank more, hoping to feel alive again.
She checked her cell phone, expecting to see a concerned text from Lila or maybe Paige, but finding one from Adrienne instead.
A: checking in. u were a lil out of it yesterday
S: no kidding. had a few too many
A: like 20 to many
S: Ha!
A: ugh. been there
S: did u know OJ = terrible for hangover?
A: could have told u that!
S: how are u?
A: um, not great.
S: ???
A: u really want to know?
S: U can’t decide between e and b?
A: Haha. got me. 1 needs constant care, 1 cares for me. 1 is a man, 1 a boy. 1 gone (dead), 1 alive. 1 thinks i’m an angel, 1 thinks i’m a mess. i could go on . . .
S: ok, I get it. who do you like more? maybe that’s a stupid question
A: no its not
A: i care about both
S: 1 more than the other?
A: hard to say
S: well benny cares about you a lot. that’s clear
A: he’s always been protective. sometimes overprotective!
S: intense is better than uninterested
A: u think so?
S: definitely
A: do u think paige would be mad if she knew i still can’t decide?
S: royally. so don’t tell her
A: i won’t. will u?
S: never! cross my
A: thx, girl. catch you later. momz on my back to look at college apps. she doesn’t no I don’t want to go
S: gotcha. good luck
A: i’ll need it!
S: bye
A: feel better
Sara Beth
Sara Beth was back in the Crystal Palace, watching her Mercury Boy try to work his magic. He and the old woman with the expensive brooch were too far away for her to hear their conversation. But Sara Beth could understand a lot from their body language. The old woman stiffened when he approached. Soon, though, she seemed to relax. As the man bowed deeply, the woman smiled. She tilted her head almost coquettishly when he kissed her extended hand. Sara Beth wondered what he’d said.
The duo talked for several minutes. Sara Beth strained her eyes but dared not move closer.
Finally, the woman took something out of her purse and handed it to him. They discussed something for a while longer before parting ways. Sara Beth watched the woman hobble off. As for her Mercury Boy, he positively swaggered as he returned to her. He tipped his hat, his eyes sparkling again like stars in an inky sky. Then he surreptitiously revealed a handful of money.
“How did you do it?” She gasped. He was holding fifty-dollar bills. A half dozen of them. How much would that be in the mid-1800s? A fortune, she realized. “What did you say to her?”
“That she knew my parents. That I remembered her fondly from my youth.”
She scoffed.
“We grew up in the same place,” he continued. “New Bedford, Massachusetts. It’s a rich town.”
“Why do I have a feeling you grew up somewhere else?”
“Baltimore.”
Sara Beth shook her head.
“I told her that my father had been employed by her husband, Mr. Rodman, a whaling merchant.”
“Naturally.”
“He changed my family’s fortune, Mr. Rodman did. Thanks to him, I was the first man in my family to go to college. And now I am studying to become a doctor.”
“But you’re having trouble paying for it,” Sara Beth said.
“Like I said, miss,” her Mercury Boy said, “you are unusually astute.”
“And you’re unusually manipulative.”
“So I’v
e been told.”
“And she just gave you the money—simple as that?”
“Her own son is a failure. A misfit. He’s had every advantage, every opportunity, and he’s squandered them.”
“The prodigal son.”
“I, on the other hand, am committed to the welfare of others. And she supports that.”
“Seriously, she believed all that?” Sara Beth demanded.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Well, she wasn’t born yesterday. More like the Stone Age.”
“We are all innocent at our core.”
She laughed. “Innocent is the last thing you are.”
“You learn quickly.”
“Learn?” she said, taken aback by his condescension. “I could teach you a few things.”
He balked. “Is that so?”
“You’re not the only one who can trick people. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
Again, that sparkle in his eye. It would be hard, she realized, not to fall for his charm. “If that’s so,” he said, “then—how did you put it?—‘show me what you’ve got.’”
“Fine,” she said, extending her hand to shake on it.
He took her hand as he’d taken Mrs. Rodman’s, bending down to kiss her fingers.
“Just so you know,” she warned, “I’ve never lost a bet.”
“I have little doubt of that.”
“I don’t know your name.
“Mack.”
“I’m Gillian.”
They sized each other up. Sara Beth realized he was probably lying, too.
Then she left abruptly, having spotted her mark. He had the same qualities as the sucker Mack had chosen: old age, fancy clothing, the gleam of precious metal on his person. She knew what to do, but she was aware of a disadvantage. Her outfit. That would put him off—it would make an unseemly first impression. She’d have to compensate for it somehow.
She arrived dramatically, fainting right in front of him. She crumpled tragically, yet elegantly to the floor and tried not to move a muscle. He emitted a sound halfway between a squeak and a cry. She could hear him bending down, the old hinges of his knees creaking at the effort. She felt his old hand, dry and crepe-y, on her forehead. She sensed him leaning over her. Was he listening to her breathing? Was he searching for a heartbeat?
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