Beneath the images were captions like, “Mrs. Sophia de Laurentis in vintage Versace” and “Miss Bitty Caldwell in a stunning sheath from Armani, accompanied by Sir Edward Brooks III.”
And that was just the people. There were also gushing descriptions of the food and decor. One year, the event planner had set up a, “lush fairytale wonderland,” complete with “vines spiraling down from the ceiling,” and “more than 500,000 hydrangeas perfuming the air.”
I’d pored through cotillion photos for the entire free period. When I finally closed my laptop, I’d felt the onset of a panic attack. Compared to this, the Country Day mixer was practically a barn dance. That was the minors; this was clearly the big leagues.
“You okay?” Daniel asked after a moment.
“Fine.” I managed to smile at him. The one bright spot in my day had been a text he’d sent around lunchtime: thinking of u.
Every chance I’d gotten I’d looked at it, tracing my fingers over the words.
Daniel had been waiting for me again after school; I practically skipped to his car, my whole body singing. I wasn’t hungry, but when he’d suggested grabbing a burger, I’d agreed. Anything to be sitting across from him, to feel his knees brush mine under the table, to see the studious concentration he devoted to every bite.
All the weirdness at the Rochesters’ faded into the background. This was what mattered.
Daniel wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. For a boy, he was a very tidy eater; clearly he’d been raised with strict table manners, which made me a little self-conscious about my own chewing. “We can go together,” he offered.
“Really?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but of course this was the type of event where you brought a date. I’d planned to beg off, telling the Rochesters that I’d come down with an unfortunate case of the plague or something. But the thought of walking in with Daniel changed everything. He’d look amazing in a tux, and I could find a more elaborate version of the dress from Saks. I could practically see the caption: “Miss Janie Mason in Vera Wang, accompanied by Mr. Daniel Fairfax.” Like we were actually together. Like we belonged.
But then, Daniel did belong in this world.
A thought struck me. “So you’ve been before?”
“Oh, yeah.” He laughed shortly. “It’s pretty much a requirement once you hit fifteen. My sister came out that year.”
In this world, coming out has a totally different meaning, I realized, amused. I teased, “Have you ever brought a date before?”
The minute the words left my mouth, I knew they were a mistake. I didn’t want to know about his former girlfriends. Selfishly, I preferred to imagine that he’d entered my life fresh, his heart whole and undamaged, his lips pure.
But of course that was ridiculous; I already knew about his addiction problems. And someone as attractive as Daniel probably had a slew of exes.
Besides, I’d dated other boys; nothing serious, but I’d certainly been kissed. Yet I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d ever looked at someone else the way he looked at me.
Daniel carefully set the burger back on his plate and cleared his throat. He looked nervous, and guilty; that sent a flicker of fear through me.
I said, “You don’t have to—”
“It was Georgina,” he said, cutting me off. “She was my date last year.”
You know that saying, about all the air getting sucked from the room? I’d always thought it was an overwrought metaphor, an exaggeration. But I was suddenly gasping and gulping for air. Spots danced before my eyes—I was going to get sick again. I bolted for the bathroom.
Kneeling before the toilet, I tried not to think about what had made the floor so sticky. My breath shuddered as I fought back bile. I’d barely eaten all day, thankfully, so my stomach was empty. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to relax. My heartbeat pulsed in my throat, a constant cadence of Georgina . . . Georgina . . .
A knock at the door, followed by Daniel’s voice. “Hey, Janie? You okay?” He sounded worried.
The picture in my mind shifted: instead of us, it was the two of them together. Georgina: gorgeous in a low-cut white dress, gripping Daniel’s arm possessively. Her smile was even toothier than normal—the leer of a shark. Hot tears lurked behind my eyes, anxious to slip out . . .
“Janie?” Daniel called more urgently.
I tried to get a grip on my hurt and rage. Daniel didn’t do anything wrong, I reminded myself. He hadn’t even known me back then. I’d been thousands of miles away.
But he should’ve told me, I amended. First I find out he had some sort of secret past with John, and now Georgina? He knew that I lived with them; he should’ve said something right away. Another flash, of them dancing. Georgina smiling up at him, his hand encircling her waist. My stomach executed another sharp flip.
Seriously, of all the people he could have dated . . . Georgina?
And why hadn’t she said anything?
I suddenly realized that she might not know we were dating; I certainly hadn’t told her. It wasn’t like we stayed up late gossiping and braiding each other’s hair.
“I’m fine,” I croaked. “Be right out.”
I splashed water on my face and patted it dry, which only served to highlight the blotchiness. Regarding myself in the mirror, I ran wet fingers through my hair to tame the flyaway ends, overly aware of the fact that the image staring back at me didn’t hold a candle to Georgina. I was okay-looking—some might even say pretty. But she was exquisite. Stand us side by side, and there was no comparison. I suddenly felt ridiculous for obsessing over the text Daniel had sent earlier. God only knew what he’d written to her when they were dating.
I drew in a deep breath and gave myself a nod, confirming that I was at least moderately in control. Then I went back outside.
Daniel was leaning against the wall in the narrow corridor, his features creased with worry. “Jeez, Janie, I’m so—”
“I’m fine,” I repeated, cutting him off. The words came out sharper than I’d intended. “I just haven’t felt very good all day.”
“So that wasn’t . . . I mean . . .” He ducked his head. “Sorry. I was going to tell you about Georgina sooner, but I was still sticking to the one-year thing, you know? And I figured, as long as we were still just friends . . .”
I stood against the opposite wall, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. I remembered him dropping me off at the house that first day, the overly casual way in which he’d said, “Georgina lives here, right? Oh, yeah, everyone knows Georgie.”
That should have tipped me off. Only her family called her Georgie. And, apparently, her boyfriends.
“So was it serious?” I asked.
He shuffled his feet. “Not really. I mean, we weren’t, like, official or anything.”
That sounded like the kind of thing Tommy Oliver would say, which didn’t bode well. I scowled at him. “So what were you, exactly?”
“I don’t know.” Daniel looked up at me. “I didn’t think of her as my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. Questions tumbled through my head, each worse than the last. Had they kissed? Had they done more than just kiss? Who had broken it off? Did he still like her?
Now I felt like an idiot; after a couple of kisses and a single text, I’d imagined us riding off into the sunset together. For all I knew, that’s exactly what Georgina had thought a year ago.
“Listen, Janie,” he said, stepping forward and reaching toward me.
I shrugged off his arm. “I should get home.”
A mother escorting a small girl approached. “Are you two waiting for the bathroom?”
We both muttered no. She gave me a sympathetic smile as they eased past, shutting the door behind them. A wave of bleach from the bathroom mingled with the aroma o
f sizzling meat and fries. My stomach lurched again. “I really don’t feel so good.”
“Okay,” Daniel said quietly. “Let’s go.”
In silence, we paid the bill, leaving our uneaten food behind. I walked to the car, holding my anorak closed against the chill. When he’d picked me up at school, Daniel had opened the door for me; this time, he continued on to the driver’s side. I opened the door myself and climbed in.
I stared at my hands, waiting for him to start the car. Picturing the rest of my day only made it worse. The tense drive home. Being dumped on the Rochesters’ doorstep. Dragging my backpack upstairs, trying to focus on homework. Another painful dinner with the Rochesters. That last thought nearly broke me; the tears clambered over each other in their eagerness to spill out.
But I wouldn’t let them. I dug my nails into my palms and gritted my teeth, holding them at bay.
Daniel still hadn’t started the car. I surreptitiously glanced over at him from beneath dropped eyelashes. He was staring pensively out the windshield.
“Our first fight,” he said. “And we’ve only been dating for a day.”
A laugh escaped me. He was right. “World’s shortest relationship, huh?” I said ruefully.
“You’re dumping me?” He sounded wounded.
“I don’t know. I mean . . . I don’t know what to do,” I concluded helplessly. And I didn’t. I’d had very little experience with dating before; most of my “boyfriends” had been friends who became something more for a while, then regressed to something less. Looking back, it was hard to pinpoint an actual breakup; it was more like both of us lost interest and drifted on to someone else. But I’d never felt like this about any of them. And that terrified me.
“Janie,” Daniel said, twisting to face me. “It’s like I said. Back then, I was a different person. I was high most of the time, I didn’t care about anything but partying.”
“So you didn’t care about Georgina?” I asked in a small voice.
Emotions flitted across his face, too fast for me to read. But he said, “No. Not really. I mean, Georgie was cool, and fun. And we were hanging out a lot, so it just kind of happened.”
“Oh.” Should I believe him? I wanted to. It was hard to accept that he’d only dated Georgina because she was convenient. Most guys would probably sacrifice an arm to take her out for coffee.
“It wasn’t like this,” Daniel said more softly, reaching out to take my hand.
“Like what?” I asked, letting him. His fingers ensnared mine, warm and strong.
“When I’m with you, I feel like myself.” He sounded embarrassed. I waited for him to continue, holding my breath. “Sometimes being a better person is just so much work. It’s exhausting, like acting a part in a play. But I do it, because I know I have to.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That sounds awful.”
“Yeah.” Daniel laughed weakly. “Pretty awful. But with you . . .” his grip tightened on my hand, and he leaned in. “With you I’m just automatically that guy. I don’t even have to try.”
The look of raw need in his eyes was almost scary.
“Daniel,” I finally said, “You can’t lie to me again. Ever.”
“I won’t,” he protested. “I didn’t.”
“Not telling me something is basically the same as lying,” I pointed out. “I really need to be able to trust you.”
He reached up and trailed the back of his hand down my cheek, sending a shudder through me. “Okay,” he said. “I promise.”
And then he kissed me. It was different from yesterday, deeper and more intense. I lost time in that kiss; I lost a small piece of myself. I felt it pass from me to him and realized that chances were, I’d never get it back.
And I didn’t care. I claimed a similar piece of him and tucked it away, deep down inside me, somewhere dark and safe where no one would ever find it. This is what love is, I realized. Forsaking bits of yourself to the care of another person.
When he pulled away, it felt like I was being riven in two. I wanted to spend the rest of my life locked together like that. I wanted more. Suddenly, the fight seemed silly. This was Daniel. Even if he didn’t know himself yet, I knew him. “So you’ll be my date for the cotillion?”
He laughed and brushed a stray hair away from my eyes. “Of course.”
“Good.” I sighed and settled back against the car seat.
“Just wait until you see me in a tux,” he said in a lighter tone. “Women have been known to faint.”
“I’ll try to prepare myself,” I said wryly.
“Oh, there’s no preparing yourself.” He threw me a wink, suddenly back to normal. “But don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”
It wasn’t until after he dropped me off that I realized I’d forgotten to tell him about the elevator.
“That sounds great,” Kaila said.
“I know, right?” I flopped over on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m thinking I might repaint my room orange. Do you think that would be too much?”
“Mmmm,” she said.
“Or maybe neon green,” I said with a frown. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
“Totally awesome,” Kaila said mechanically.
“Um, Earth to Kaila?”
“What?” she asked, in the same weary tone.
“What’s up with you? We haven’t talked in days! I finally have news, and it feels like you’re barely paying attention.” I kicked up to sitting and crossed my legs.
“Tommy dumped me,” she said curtly.
“Oh. God, Kaila, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said, but it sounded hollow, like she was speaking down a long tube. “I’m fine.”
“Well, you don’t sound fine.”
No wonder she hadn’t shared my elation about Daniel, I realized, feeling guilty.
“I’m bummed, yeah,” she acknowledged. “I mean, you know how long I’ve liked him.”
“Years,” I commiserated.
“Right. I’m an idiot.” Her voice dropped another notch as she continued, “I still can’t believe he asked me out in the first place.”
“Hey,” I said firmly. “Tommy Oliver is the idiot. You know that, right?”
She made an indeterminate noise.
“I’m serious, Kaila.” I squeezed my eyes shut, debating how to frame this. In our old school, Tommy Oliver had always been unofficially ranked as the hottest guy, with his sun-bleached hair, ice-blue eyes, dark tan, and insane body. And he was a damn good surfer; even I had to admit that.
The biggest problem was that he knew it, too.
Tommy was notorious for keeping surfboards around longer than girlfriends, and he generally went through one of those a month. I’d always found him kind of gross. When he’d asked me out last year, I’d basically laughed in his face. I’d also made sure that Kaila never found out about it.
The fact that she’d just become his latest casualty was hardly a surprise, at least not to me.
“He said he really liked me.” Kaila’s voice cracked as she continued, “That it was different with us. That I was special.”
I swallowed, hearing Daniel’s exact words parroted back to me. Daniel’s not like that, though, I reassured myself. “This totally sucks. I feel awful that I’m not there for the ritual.”
“Me, too,” Kaila agreed.
When a relationship went south, we always did the same thing: matching pints of ice cream consumed in front of The Princess Bride. It was a foolproof recipe my mom had recommended that never failed us.
“Tell you what,” I said, suddenly inspired. “I’ll go grab a pint and cue up PB on my computer. We can Skype while we’re watching it.”
“Yeah?” Kaila said, sniffling.
“Absolutely,” I said firmly, even though a glance at my laptop confirmed that it was nearly 1
1 p.m., and I had school the next day. What the hell, I thought. I’d pretty much adapted to five hours of sleep a night anyway. With any luck the attic would remain quiet, and I wouldn’t be awakened at 3 a.m.
“Thanks, Janie,” Kaila said, sounding relieved.
“Are you kidding? Any excuse to spend a few hours with Westley,” I said cavalierly. “Just let me go grab the ice cream. Back in five.”
I padded downstairs as quietly as possible. The rest of the house was dark and still, reminding me of my first night here. I repressed a shiver and hurried down the servant’s staircase that led to the kitchen. The light on the exhaust fan barely illuminated the room; the tile was cold against my bare feet. I dug a pint out of the freezer compartment without even checking to see what it was, grabbed a spoon and napkin, and practically ran back upstairs.
As I turned down the hall that led to my room, I stopped dead.
A light bobbed at waist level ten feet away. I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking, it’s all in your head. My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, that’s all it was.
When I opened my eyes again, it was gone.
My shoulders relaxed. The ice cream container sweated against my palm, the contents softening.
Kaila’s waiting, I reminded myself.
I kept to the sides of the hall, skirting the spot where I’d seen the floating light even though I knew that was silly. I practically ran the final twenty feet, hurling myself into the room. I was gasping for breath, as if I’d run a far greater distance. It took a second to process what I was seeing.
In my brief absence, the room had been tampered with. The chairs that had been huddled by the fireplace were now on either side of my bed, facing it as if invisible guests were keeping watch. My bedside tables sat in the space the chairs had just occupied. The pile of stuff that was usually shoved in a corner had been neatly tiered in the center of room.
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