The Possibility of Somewhere

by Julia Day

  My glance slid past Tiffany and returned. She was staring at me with fury. I shrugged. This match had happened in spite of me. I hadn’t set Sawyer up with Mundy, but I was glad because they would be great together.

  “So?” I asked when she was seated again.

  “We have a date tomorrow night.”

  “Did you ask him? In front of all of the popular kids?”

  “Yes. He thinks I’m amazing, remember? He wasn’t likely to turn me down.” She made it sound as if it were only natural.

  I laughed as I rummaged around inside her paper sack. There were two Godiva chocolates. She was a good friend. “Why did you say it wouldn’t be fair to him?”

  She went still, her smile vanishing. “I don’t want to tell you yet.”

  Mundy had no secrets. What was she hiding? “Too late. Tell me.”

  “Cam is returning to his old job.”

  My brain broke her statement apart, processing the pieces a little at a time, hoping to make sense of it.

  Cam is returning to his old job.

  Cam’s old job was teaching art at a community college.

  In California.

  Cam was returning to California. With his family.

  I didn’t want to think this through, but the horror flared into comprehension anyway, taking over my being, shining a light on my life before Mundy arrived and my life after.

  Before Mundy, I’d sat alone, attended class alone, gone home alone. And I’d been fine because I hadn’t known any differently.

  Since she came, alone had been replaced by anticipation. I’d expected to eat lunch with her. To hang out. To know that her parents didn’t mind me being around.

  Friendship with Mundy was good, and I was hooked.

  “Excuse me,” I said, hopping to my feet, “I have to get out of here.”

  Mundy rose, catching my elbow in a firm grip. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Got it.” I jerked away from her and lifted my tray.

  “I’m sorry, Eden.” Her voice, muffled and sad, followed me as I walked off. “We’ll be gone by January.”

  * * *

  Somehow I held it together for the rest of the day, but barely. When I got home, I retreated to my bedroom, curled on my bed, and stared at the wall.

  How could I stand to lose Mundy?

  I’d always been a freak in this town—a girl with too many brains and too much history. I’d resigned myself to being on the fringes. Not missing what I didn’t have. I had goals instead of relationships.

  It was strange how quickly I’d become attached to Mundy. We were nothing alike. We had nothing in common except being outsiders in Heron.

  Neither of us fit in, so instead we fit together.

  Watching Mundy hang out with me must’ve confused our classmates. It changed my value. I’d always believed I could be a good friend, but they hadn’t. Mundy made them wonder. Once she left, they would stop.

  I felt so tired, so fractured, so … angry.

  Yeah. Angry at her. Mundy must’ve known all along that she would return to California. She should’ve told me. It should’ve been my choice.

  Maybe I should detach from our friendship today. I could pretend she was already gone.

  Would that work?

  Questions swirled in my brain, repeating themselves, weaving in and out of my consciousness. I huddled on the quilt and focused on my breathing. It gave me something to do. Something other than think about the news I couldn’t accept.

  * * *

  It was time to leave for Ash’s house. This day had already been one of the worst of my life and, before I could recover from it, I had to face his parents. That meeting had me so scared that I could hardly function.

  I stared into the mirror, my stomach twisted in knots. Even though I’d piled on the makeup, there was no hiding the bruise. The Guptas would see it. She was an ER doctor. She would know how it got there. I didn’t want to go.

  After changing into my good khakis, I agonized over what shirt to wear. There weren’t many choices in the “nice” range. Another quick glance at the clock forced a decision. I slipped a silky blue shirt from its hanger and whipped it on, frowning at the way the button between my breasts strained. Was it too much?

  I shouldn’t second-guess myself. Grabbing my overnight things and the keys to Dad’s truck, I ran for the front door.

  “Eden?”

  I hesitated, my hand gripping the knob. Marnie came over and studied my expression.

  “What’s happened, sweetie?”

  “It’s not a good day.” A headache pounded between my eyes.

  “Will you be okay?”

  “I hope so.” I gave her a tight smile, walked out to the truck, and drove to the Guptas’ home. It took me a while to find it since I’d never been to their neighborhood before. But at last I saw their house number and pulled onto the brick driveway curving through a wooded, landscaped yard. I parked and stared at their house. Their really huge house.

  Ash exploded through the door and jogged to a halt a few feet away. Frustration glittered in his eyes.

  “You’re late.”

  I glanced at the clock. Three minutes. I inhaled to calm myself. It didn’t work. “I got lost.”

  “Fine. Come on.” He led the way through the front door and veered left, into the biggest living room I’d ever seen. His parents stood side by side before the fireplace. His father wore a suit. His mother had on a turquoise silk dress and lots of gold jewelry.

  Had they dressed like that for me?

  I shifted closer to Ash, longing to touch him somehow, knowing that would be a bad move.

  After Ash made the introductions, Dr. Gupta, the father, said, “Eden, welcome. Please sit.” He gestured toward a white sofa covered with silver and violet throw pillows.

  I wanted to check the back of my pants before sitting on something so white, but that wasn’t cool. Instead, I perched on the edge.

  Ash stepped past me and sat at the other end. All prim and proper. Whatever. I warmed my freezing hands between my thighs, gave them both a quick smile, and glanced down at the wrought-iron coffee table.

  An inlaid tray of wood and mother-of-pearl slid across the glass surface of the table, stopping near me. It held a dozen small cookies, each in its own pleated paper cup.

  “Please have some dessert,” Dr. Gupta, the mother, said. She had a soft, musical voice. It must calm her patients.

  “No, thank you.”

  None of them got a cookie either.

  Mrs. Gupta’s gaze took in my bad cheek. Her eyes narrowed, but otherwise her expression remained mild. “Ash says that you would like to go to Carolina.”

  “Yes.”

  “What other schools are you considering?”

  Should I mention Cape Fear? Probably not. “Only Carolina for now. I’m still looking, though.”

  Ash’s parents exchanged glances. Apparently it was the father’s turn to talk because he gave me a beaming smile. “Have you decided on a major yet?”

  “Education. I want to be a teacher.” Duh. What else did education majors become? I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.

  The room grew silent.

  This was incredibly awkward, and I didn’t know what to do about it. His parents were the ones who were running this show. Right?

  I’d tried to corner Ash at school today—to ask him about the expectations for this meeting. To let him soothe away my fears. But he’d been impossible to get alone and he hadn’t responded to calls or texts.

  So here I was, totally unprepared. On a good day, I wouldn’t have had a clue how to behave around the Guptas. I’d never talked to a boyfriend’s parents before. Hell, Clarissa and Cam were the only parents-of-friends that I’d talked to in years, and they were so amazing that it was easy to be comfortable around them.

  I glanced at Ash now and found him staring at my chest. The straining button? Could he see cleavage? My gaze switched to his parents. His father was staring at his hands. His mot
her looked from her son to me, eyebrow arching high.

  Was this yet another way I’d screwed up?

  I looked at the fireplace, needing to stare at something that wouldn’t judge me. Over the mantle hung an oil painting, Georgia O’Keeffe–like. Lavender peonies on a blue background. Very nice.

  This house was nothing like I’d imagined. It smelled faintly of lemon, instead of Indian spices. The living room had the put-together feel of an expensive interior designer. There was nothing exotic about it. This could’ve been any rich doctor’s showcase mansion. I tried a tentative smile with his mother. “You have a lovely home.”

  “Thank you.” She toyed with a bracelet made of heavy gold links. “You are on your way to a job this evening?”

  How much should I share? I shouldn’t bring up Mrs. Fremont’s childcare arrangements, in case Dr. Gupta didn’t already know. “Yes, ma’am. I have to be there by seven. I babysit two kids three nights a week.”

  “Do you have time to study?”

  “After they go to bed, I finish my homework.”

  She transferred her attention to Ash. “Do you have much homework tonight?”

  While he gave a brief description of what he had to do, I watched his hands. He gestured as he spoke, each movement expressive. I’d never thought about how beautiful his hands were.

  “Eden?” Mrs. Gupta prompted.

  I wrenched my gaze back to her. “Yes?”

  “I understand that you are cousins with Tiffany Barber. She is also competing for the Peyton. I’ve heard that she is quite a talented girl.”

  My body, face, everything stiffened. Had Mrs. Gupta just complimented the despicable witch who’d caused this misery with her talent? “Tiffany is my stepmom’s cousin. She’s no relation of mine.”

  Mrs. Gupta’s lips thinned. Ash stared at me through eyes wide with horror. What was his problem? I’d been mild, and I hadn’t cursed.

  A cocktail of fiercely unpleasant emotions flared in my gut. I had to get out of here, to catch my breath, to beat the feelings back. “Excuse me,” I said. “Could you tell me where the bathroom is?”

  Her plucked eyebrows arched into points. “In the foyer, second door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I slid off the silky sofa and left.

  The bathroom was immense and dramatic. Black, white, and silver wallpaper and furnishings. I’d never been in a bathroom so elegant that I was afraid to use it.

  Tugging at the button, it was clear that nothing could make my shirt stop gapping, but it wasn’t too awful. Barely a hint of my curves was visible.

  I needed to calm down, get over it, and relax.

  A glass shelf held a collection of tiny thimbles. I studied them, fascinated by all of the styles, colors, and sizes.

  My face felt hot. I splashed it with water, then checked out the collection of soaps. Five different scents. I settled on vanilla.

  Rather than mess up the white guest towels, I dried my face and hands on my shirttail and tucked it back in.

  There was a knock at the door. I opened it a crack.

  “Is there anything wrong?” Ash asked, his voice hoarse.

  “No. Why?”

  “You’ve been in there over five minutes.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” I flicked off the light and stepped into the hall. His parents waited behind him.

  Great. I had just turned bad into worse.

  The whole evening had been a catastrophe, and there was no way to salvage it. I ought to go. “Thanks for inviting me over, but I have to leave.”

  They murmured stilted good-byes.

  Ash was silent as we walked out to the truck. He held the door open while I buckled in.

  “Do you realize how screwed we are?” he bit out.

  Today had been too much to bear. I was saturated with pain. I couldn’t handle his frustration too. It seemed to hang in the air, not sinking in. “I guess so.”

  “We had to be perfect, and that was a disaster. What happened?”

  If he’d wanted me to be perfect, why hadn’t he talked to me today? I had no clue what his parents’ definition of perfect was. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Done what?”

  “Gone to someone’s house and talked to their parents.”

  “Clearly. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been late or shown up dressed like that.”

  I looked down. It was the nicest outfit I owned. “I don’t know what to say.” I had the strangest urge to cry, but my eyes felt hot and dry.

  He sucked in a couple of loud breaths, like he was gasping for air. “Why didn’t you try harder?”

  I shook my head, so weary it felt like I might not be able to lift my hands to the steering wheel. “I’d better go.”

  “I don’t think I can fix this, Eden.”

  His statement jarred me. I looked at him, shocked at the anguish etched into the lines of his face. “What do you mean?”

  He gave a tiny shake of his head, slammed my door shut, and strode back to the house.

  I slumped in my seat, hands folded in my lap, going over what he’d said. Frustration welled within me.

  He shouldn’t have let me walk in there without coaching. I knew how to please teachers and how to mock Marnie’s cousins, but I knew nothing about impressing adults like the Guptas, and Mundy’s news had messed me up.

  My momentary flash of anger drained away. I fumbled to get the key in the ignition and crossed my fingers that I could make it to my job without crashing.

  26

  Bleeding Into the Boards

  Last night, Ash’s behavior had been upsetting. Today, he’d terrified me.

  When I waited for him at the bus lane this morning, he brushed past me, saying, “Can’t talk now.” His entourage had closed around him like a shield.

  He’d avoided me in the hallways all day and didn’t answer his phone.

  I texted him to ask if he would meet me at the gazebo. I finally got back: see you at 8.

  Until I’d experienced the gazebo alone, cold, and in the dark, I couldn’t have acknowledged what a scary place it could be. My heart pounded so hard it pulsed in my ears. Yet my fear over the upcoming discussion loomed bigger than the dark.

  A car purred into the parking lot. A door ka-thunked. Then nothing. A minute passed. Shoes thumped up the wooden steps.

  I turned slowly, nervous about what I would see.

  He stopped a few inches away from me—tall, straight, still. The moon gleamed silver behind him.

  “Eden.” A single word. Soft. Flat. He’d never said my name that way before.

  “Ash, I’m sorry about last night.” My hands were cold. I should’ve worn gloves. I couldn’t think with cold hands. I jammed my fists into my pockets. “How can we fix it?”

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “Too late?”

  His mouth opened. Closed. He looked past me into the park, as if searching for something out there in the shadows. “I’m here to break up with you.”

  “No.” When I reached for him, he backed up a step, as if I didn’t have the right to touch him. “You can’t mean this, Ash. We can work something out.”

  “They’ve forbidden me to see you.”

  He kept throwing these awful words at me. I knew what they meant, but how could he be using them with us? “That’s crazy. And completely unenforceable. We go to school together. They can’t—”

  “I can only speak to you if we’re assigned to the same project.”

  It was like he’d memorized a script, except this was real.

  I watched him carefully, looking for a sign that I’d misunderstood, but I hadn’t.

  Forbidden.

  Longing and desperation overwhelmed me. I stumbled forward and fell into him.

  He tensed, his body so rigid it could’ve been carved from stone. I burrowed against his chest, seeking a response from this unemotional statue that I didn’t recognize.

  A strangled gasp hissed from his mouth. His arms whipped around me, on
e hand tangling in my hair, the other slipping beneath my jacket, his fingers caressing the skin of my back.

  “Please, Ash. I don’t want this to be true.”

  “It is.” He spoke sadly. Hopelessly.

  The silence swirled around us. I smelled wood smoke and his clean, spicy scent. He must be mistaken. We were meant to be together.

  “How can this happen after one bad meeting? Don’t I get a second chance?”

  “That was your second chance. They already knew they didn’t want you in my life. Last night confirmed it.”

  I shifted to look into his eyes. “Why don’t they like me? Because I’m white?”

  “Being white isn’t really the problem.”

  What was he trying to tell me? Something nasty was there, on the periphery. Something I didn’t wish to face but that I already knew.

  “It’s me specifically.” I pushed away from Ash with deliberate movements. “I’m the trailer-trash girl who’s corrupting their son.”

  His nod clawed at my soul.

  Whoa. I needed a moment to take that in. White girls in general might be tolerated, but not Eden Moore. I struggled to keep my voice even. “They’re both doctors. They’re smart enough not to buy into the stereotype.”

  “It’s not just that. They’ve heard things…”

  “From your friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  This scared me like holy hell, but I fought off the panic. “What have your ‘friends’ said?”

  He looked at the dome, exposing the smooth column of his throat. “That you’re bad for me. That you distract me from my priorities. That I can’t succeed with you in my life.”

  “We have proof otherwise. Our grades haven’t suffered. We can fight this.”

  “My parents heard things from me, too. I’m responsible for their opinion.” His gaze lowered to mine. “I did this to us.”

  “You? What things?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, bitterness twisting his lips. “For years, I’ve complained about you. I’ve told them that you’re rude and sarcastic. That you swear…”

  I’d confirmed all of those flaws last night.

  “… That you don’t care about your appearance.”

  No. Not letting that one slide past. “I dressed up last night.”

  He frowned. “What?”