“Yes, I’m a senior.”
Camille holds up her phone. “Nando and Rigel are here.”
“Where are you from?” Orion asks, touching my elbow.
Distracted, I force myself to look at him. “Atlanta.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine lives out there.”
Everyone knows someone out there, but I nod politely. Glancing around, I search for the boys but the crowd’s thickened since we first arrived. Orion takes my hand. “We should dance, Isla.”
Tickled, I finally focus on him. “Why’s that?”
“Because everyone wants to dance with me.”
And then, in an alcove near the back, I spy Rigel leaning against the wall. My heart leaps…and then it sinks. He’s with someone. And it's not that she's slender and tall, or that her glossy, black hair is so long it almost skims her butt. It’s the intimate way she leans into him, touching his face and hair. The affectionate way he smiles down at her.
When she stretches up and slowly kisses each of his cheeks, I freeze in disbelief. He doesn’t push her away. Stricken, I turn, swallowing back the burn in my throat. “Camille.”
“What’s up?” Her expression darkens as she takes in mine.
“What does Rigel’s ex look like?”
“She’s Puerto Rican. Lighter than me; long, black hair.” She frowns warily. “Why? Did you...see her?”
I point to where I saw Mia and Rigel. They’re back to talking, thankfully, but they’re still way too close.
Camille follows my gaze, her eyes narrowed. “That’s definitely Mia.”
Meanwhile, Orion’s standing between us, running a hand over his closely cropped hair. He touches my shoulder, and I turn blindly his way, trying to process what I just saw. My heart hurts; my stomach hurts.
“Forget him,” he says. “He’s full of shit.”
I suppose he means well, but it’s too soon. Wishing I could teleport home to the comfort and safety of my bed, I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
“I mean it,” he says. “I know him better than anybody...trust.”
Camille takes my hand, but she’s looking at Orion. “No offense, Orion, but this isn’t about you and Ri’s brotherly drama.”
“What drama?” he asks innocently. I’ve seen that look on Rigel’s face a dozen times, usually in the pool when he’s teasing me.
“You even look like him,” I mumble.
“You mean he looks like me.” He smirks. “Come on. One dance.”
Camille pries my cup from my fingers, giving me a little push. “Just go.”
Orion takes my hand, pulling me to the center of the floor. Everyone seems to know him. He’s quite charismatic, but maybe a little conceited, too. Still, he’s a great dancer, and despite the sting of betrayal, I force myself to enjoy the moment. I’m grateful he’s around to keep me from crying. Honestly, I’m not sure who I’m more disenchanted by: Rigel, for being that kind of guy, or myself, for being the idiot that fell for him. I hate that Camille was right.
“Hey,” Orion says, flashing a familiar dimple. “Stop thinking about it.”
“Easier said than done,” I say, wishing he’d just stick to dancing.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he swings me out and then pulls me close. “Don’t let little boys get so close to you. They never know what they want.”
“Little boys, huh?”
“Little boys.” I must look dubious, because he adds, “I know,” before spinning me so fast my stomach flips. A laugh escapes. I’ve never danced like this with anyone, and it’s fun.
“That’s better,” he says, tucking me in close.
Orion keeps his word, walking me back to my friends as soon as the song is over. He’s hard to figure out: I can’t tell if he’s flirting because he likes me, or because that’s just how he operates with women.
“Thanks for the dance.” He kisses my cheek. “Don’t let him ruin your night, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I’m serious. You seem like a sweetheart, and he...” A shadow passes over his face. He shrugs, squeezing my shoulder.
Camille wanders over, holding Nando’s hand. Guess they’re on again. “You should just dance with Orion all night,” she says, scowling. “Rub it in Rigel’s face!”
“Nope.” Orion grins, holding his hands up as he backs away. “Not going there.”
Meanwhile, I’m wondering how much Cam's told Nando. It's not a secret, exactly, but talking about stuff with Rigel’s friends is different than girl talk with my cousin.
“You should, though,” Jasmine stage-whispers to me. “Orion’s hot. And I hear he’s amazing in bed.”
“Don’t listen to these two,” Nando says, leaning in to give me a quick hug. “That’s going from the frying pan into the fire.”
“Why?” I ask, confused. These kids all know each other, sharing histories and secrets, but I’m still unraveling all of that. Times like this my newness to the scene is irritatingly apparent.
“Orion’s trouble,” Nando says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Right, because Rigel’s such a goody two shoes.” Jasmine rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t stay that way. “Come on.”
Nando glances at me, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, well.”
“Yeah well, what?” Jasmine sips her beer.
“You really bringing up old shit?” he snaps.
Taken aback, I look at Jasmine. But instead of letting Nando have it, she just makes a face. “Whatever.”
“What are y’all talking about?” I ask, confused by the turn the conversation just took. “If he’s a player just say it. Damn.”
“He’s not.” Camille cuts her eyes at Jasmine. “Not really. That, though?” She points toward the alcove. “Some cojones.”
“We didn’t know Mia was going to be here!” Nando says, taking a step back. “She was on Ri like white on rice as soon as he walked in the door.”
“He doesn’t really seem to mind,” I say.
Camille’s eyes go soft with sympathy. “You want to just go?”
I glance down at my phone. It’s barely nine thirty, but I’m over it. “Okay. I mean, if you really don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” She whispers something to Nando, kissing his cheek before pulling away. “Come on.”
Sliding my bunny ears off, I follow her through the crowd. A fast song with a driving beat starts up, hitting so hard I feel it in my chest. I look back at Jasmine and Nando. Rigel’s with them now, his eyes following me as I leave.
There are almost as many people outside the Baobob Club as there were inside. Traffic clogs the street, music blaring from several cars. Camille steps off the curb and I follow, crossing between cars.
“Isla.”
I ignore Rigel until he grabs my hand, and then I shake him off. I can’t look at him right now.
“How’s it going with your boy?” I ask Sage later that night. It’s late, and we should both be asleep, but this FaceTime session is long overdue. She’s still in her Halloween costume, some literary heroine I’m not familiar with.
“He’s all right,” she says casually, the pink on her cheeks letting me know he’s so much better than that. “What about you?
“I’m...okay.”
“What about that guy? The swimmer.”
“Rigel.” His name puts a stone in my stomach. I shrug. I’d half hoped he’d text me tonight, even after that mess at Baobab, but he didn’t. Not that I’d have answered. “I don’t know. I think he might have a girlfriend in college. They were off, apparently, but she was at the party tonight and they looked pretty ‘on’ to me.”
“Wait.” Sage frowns. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes, yawning. “It’s whatever.”
“Really?” She’s doubtful, probably remembering how starry-eyed I‘d been about him the last we spoke.
“It’ll have to be. I have enough on my plate without worrying about the hot island boy with wandering eyes.”
“He’s not coaching you anymore, right?”
“Right, but I still have swimming until second quarter starts next week.” I yawn again. “Maybe I can convince Coach Archer to let me skip. I’ll tell her I have my period.”
Sage smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Me too.” I look down, picking at the duvet on my bed as my eyes burn. I’m more let down than anything, but it’s a crappy feeling nonetheless.
She nods once, and the way I miss her wells up so much that tears spill over after all. She bites her lip and leans forward, her own eyes shiny. “Isla girl. I wish I was there! I hate this. I hate it.”
“Me too.” Sniffling, I give myself a moment to regain my composure. “Maybe you could come around the holidays. For New Years?”
“Yeah.” She nods quickly, wiping her eyes. “I have money saved up. I’ll tell my parents I don't need anything for Christmas, just a ticket.”
“Just a ticket.” I laugh. “It’s expensive. Maybe we can go halfsies.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Despite our late night, I get up an hour before my alarm. After putting on a cute skirt I haven’t worn since my Grady High days, I take a little extra time on my hair. I even put on mascara. Nona—Daddy’s mother—used to always say that when she felt bad she made sure she looked good. It’s become something I do, too. I need to feel confident today.
“You’re up early,” Mama says, looking up from her devotional and coffee when I hit the kitchen. She's had this routine as long as I remember. It’s comforting and familiar, and for a moment I’m so grateful for that I hug her extra long.
“I know.” I drop a kiss on her cheek. “But I have to pick up Camille, so it works out. I hate rushing.”
“Did you call her to make sure she’d be ready?”
“Check.” I hold up my phone.
“You look pretty today,” she observes as I pour a bowl of cereal.
“Thanks.” I catch the tail end of her private smile and sigh inwardly, knowing she thinks I’m dressing up for a boy. And in some ways I am, though not for the reasons she thinks.
Alex saunters in, climbing onto the seat beside me. Like every morning, his hair is a magnificent mess of knotty, bed-head curls. He unfists a small assortment of Legos onto the table and points to a long abandoned bowl. “Isla. I have cereal, too.”
“I know, I saw that.”
“Look!”
“I did, dude!”
He eyes my bowl. “That’s my cereal.”
“That one’s yours, this one’s mine.” I tip the bowl back, finishing my milk.
“It’s mine,” he says, following me to the sink.
“It’s ours.”
“No,” he says, but he’s got the sauciest grin ever. Little imp.
Knowing well the futility of arguing with a four year old, I let him have his win. We share chewable vitamins and then I ruffle his hair. “Have fun at school today, Al.”
“You have fun!” he commands, hugging my thighs fiercely before disappearing again.
Wanting to make sure Camille’s ready when I arrive, I send her another text from my driveway. She tends to procrastinate, and we’ve already had a couple of close calls with the tardy bell at school. She’s waiting on the porch when I pull up.
“Morning,” she says, handing me an oversized chocolate chip muffin. Despite the fact I just ate, my mouth waters. “Oh, hey, I like your skirt.”
“Thanks, I’ve had it forever.” I sniff the muffin. “Mmm...chocolate. My kryptonite.”
“Figured it would go good with coffee.” She sighs happily, snatching up the cup I brought for her.
“You figured right.” I cram a mouthful as I reverse out, reveling in the chocolatey goodness. “Thanks, Cam.”
Waving me off, she washes down her bite with a gulp of coffee. “Okay, so, I was talking to Nando last night.”
“After you dropped me home?”
“Yes,” she says. “Anyway, he said the thing with Mia was a fluke.”
“Ca-mille!” I moan, crumbs flying. “Why are you talking to him about this?”
“What? It’s just Nando.”
“Yeah! Rigel’s best friend!”
“Jeez and bread, Isla, he knows you guys like each other. It was kind of obvious, even before last night.”
I shoot her a look. She’s probably right, but still.
“Listen, I don’t know what it was like in your old school, but here, everyone knows everyone’s business. If you’re going to be hooking up with someone like Rigel, expect people to hear about it.”
“Well, they don’t need to hear about it from you.” I’m whining, but I don’t care.
“Nando. Already. Knew,” she says, extra slow to make a point. “Maybe Ri told him, did you consider that? Anyway. After what happened at Baobab he wanted to know if you guys were actually a thing, and I said you kind of of were…and that Rigel’s a dick for doing that with his ex, especially right where you could see.” She sucks her teeth in disgust. “Nando says they’re not like that, but what does that even mean?”
Indeed. What does that mean? Finishing my coffee, I pop a piece of gum into my mouth and park. Camille jumps out, but I fiddle with my phone, pretending to answer a text.
“I’ll be up in a sec,” I promise, giving her a small smile.
If she thinks I’m stalling, she doesn't show it. Closing the door, she hurries over to Nando, who’s waiting by the steps. I check Instagram, killing time until first bell’s about to ring, and then get out. Satisfied no one’s around, I hurry to homeroom.
I can’t avoid Rigel forever, though. I make it to history first, begging Camille to switch seats with me when she walks in.
“I love you,” she whispers, obediently sitting in my seat, “but this is stupid.”
“I’d do it for you,” I whisper back, cracking open my notebook so I can scan my notes one last time before the exam. The test takes all of class, so it’s easy to stay in a bubble.
Lunch is another story, though. As usual, Rigel sits right across the table, and from the second he does I feel him looking at me. I ignore him. Maybe I am being dumb, but avoidance has always been my preferred strategy. Seeing predictably gorgeous Mia all over him last night sucked. It was worse than finding out Benny was with Stella. Way worse.
Rigel’s shoe bumps mine under the table. Twice. I look up involuntarily, making eye contact. He raises his eyebrows. Before he actually says anything, I cram the rest of my PB&J into my mouth and climb off the crowded bench. Camille and Jasmine scramble out after me.
“I heard Lower School has a bake sale today,” Jasmine says. “Wanna check it out?”
They’ve probably talked about this, about how best to keep from losing me to the dark side of boy drama. It reminds me of something Sage and Morgan would’ve done, and I kind of love them for it.
“Muffins and now bake sales?” I shake my head. “You trying to get me to eat my feelings?”
“Hey,” Camille says, dead serious. “It works for me.”
“I completely understand, Isla. I have a really, really heavy flow at that time of the month, too.” Coach Archer says, cringing with compassion. “And the cramps!”
I’m cringing, too. There’s such a thing as too friendly, and this conversation just crossed that line.
“So you don’t mind if I sit out, then?” I ask, gesturing toward the bleachers.
“No, of course not. It’s the last day of class, anyway.” She cocks her head. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”
Feeling guilty as hell because I’m lying through my teeth, I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
Patting my shoulder, she walks away. Climbing to the top of the bleachers, I rifle through my backpack, content to use the time as a study hall. I’ve just started when there’s a creak and then someone sits beside me. I don’t have to look to know who it is. Rigel always smells like essential oils (his mother’s into it), peppermint chewing
gum, and chlorine. It’s a clean, appealing scent, the sort you want to snuggle in.
“Hey,” he says, elbows propped on the bleacher behind.
“Hey.”
We’re quiet for a long time. I work steadily on calculus, channeling all of my energy into completing each problem. Because, you know: math problems < life problems.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says.
“Okay.” I move on to the next question.
There’s a beat of silence, and then, “I didn’t know Mia was coming.”
“Yeah, Nando said.” My voice is sharper than I intend, and I bite my tongue before I say something I’ll regret.
Rigel exhales, tossing his hat onto the bleachers.
Finally, I look at him. He’s eyeing me, his face hard. It’s the same look he gets before a race. “It’s all good,” I say. “Camille said you kind of had a girlfriend, so…”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t.”
Oh, here we go. Scoffing, I shove my schoolwork into my backpack.
“We broke up last summer, before she went to college.” He pauses so that I’ll look at him—and I do. “Last night was…Mia catching me off guard. We were together for a while, and we’ve stayed close.”
I nod slowly. “That’s apparent.”
“I know what it looked like, Isla—”
“Yeah, it looked like y’all are still together.”
“We’re not,” he says. “At all.”
I shrug, watching an ant crawl across the bleachers.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
“Sorry for what, exactly?”
“For not being more upfront with her before she got that close.” He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. “And that you saw that shit.”
“So it would have been better if I hadn’t seen it?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” He looks at me. “It just, it wasn’t what it looked like. And I know that sounds like bs, but it’s true. Mia’s used to picking up where we left off, and she had no reason not to think that. Until now.”
He’s probably telling the truth, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. Camille said Rigel and Mia were on and off, so it sounds like college is what broke them up. Do they miss each other? Am I a rebound? I look away, squinting at the sunlight glaring off the pool.
Heavenly Bodies Page 15