I push on until I find a bench by the railing where I slump down, trying not to cry. I bury my face in my hands and stare at my boots, wishing everything was different. Someone else taps my shoulder. Crikey, I hope it’s not another casting agent. I look up, ready to politely ask this person to leave me alone, but standing beside the bench is Timber.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay? You look sick.” He sits next to me.
I cross my arms and shake my head. “I’m fine,” I tell him.
“That was some performance,” he says with a laugh. “And the crowd was crawling with talent scouts. I think Mercedes has gotten, like, five audition offers.”
I try to smile. “Good for her.”
“Are you sad because no one tapped you?” he asks. “I’m telling you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Auditions are grueling and—”
“That’s not why I’m upset.”
Timber puts his hand on my knee. “Then what?”
That’s when the tears leak out of my eyes, even though I really don’t want to cry, but then again, I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay when I’m not okay or acting like none of this matters to me when it does. I shake my head. “I can’t believe you kissed her like that,” I whisper.
“Who?” he asks. “Bella?”
“Who else?”
Timber laughs, but not because this is funny. His laugh is that uncomfortable kind of chuckle when you don’t know what else to do. “Zeph, we were acting. You know that.”
“But you weren’t acting!” I say, all my anger welling up and spewing from my mouth. “I saw you. That kiss was real.”
“That was acting,” Timber insists.
“She wasn’t acting.”
This makes Timber spit out a hard and bitter Ha! “She was acting for the last six months I dated her. And believe me, she’s good. Good acting is supposed to make you think it is real. She had me convinced for over a year that she was still into me, even when she was busy kissing other guys, like Gunther. I’ve kissed Bella a thousand times in my life—”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I almost yell.
“No, I mean, yes. What I’m saying is, if you’d let me finish, only half of those were real. I know how to kiss her and make it look like I have feelings for her because she was my girlfriend for a long time—”
“That’s the problem!”
“Was, Zephyr. WAS my girlfriend. Not is.” I can tell by his voice that he’s getting weary of this discussion, but I can’t let it go because every time I stop talking, the two of them locking lips jumps back in my mind.
“You had your eyes closed and then you smiled,” I say, remembering how he pulled away from her slowly, a small happy smile dancing around the edges of his wet lips.
“No, Jason smiled. My character is supposed to be happy that they kissed. What’d you want me to do, spit on the floor?”
“Yes!”
Timber’s shoulders slump. “Zeph, this isn’t going to work if you get crazy like this.”
“What’s not going to work?” I ask, looking up at him.
“This?” he motions between us.
“What’s this?” I yell. “I keep trying to figure out what THIS is, but every time I think there might be a THIS, it turns out I’m wrong!”
“I told you I wasn’t ready to jump into anything,” he says.
“Well, I am. And I’m tired of waiting. And I’m tired of Bella getting in my way.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “Not if you’re going to get all crazy like this. Bella was the most jealous person I’ve ever known. She never trusted me, which is a laugh because she was the one always messing around behind my back. I can’t be with someone like that again.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were different.”
“I am,” I say, then I stop. There’s part of me that knows he’s right. I am acting like a crazy, jealous person. That’s not who I am. But that part is buried below this fury, and I can’t latch on to it. Because another part of me knows that if he keeps kissing Bella and pretending that he likes her, pretty soon he’s going to really like her and really want to be kissing her again and the thing between us will never happen. “What exactly are you saying?” I ask.
He puts his hands in his hair. “I’m saying I thought we had a chance. If we could take it slow and you could let me be who I am, but now—”
“No,” I say, my voice shaking. “Don’t say that.” I move toward him, but it’s too late. He’s standing up. He’s walking away from me. “Timber,” I call out. He pauses and looks over his shoulder. Behind him, I see our friends waiting for us. They peer around other people in the crowd, staring while my heart begins to crumble.
Timber shakes his head. “It’s not going to work, Zephyr,” he says, then he takes off, disappearing into the crowd, and I’m left alone in the midst of strangers. Just then a collective gasp and cheer goes up. I turn around and see the lights of the Christmas tree blink on and I crumple to the bench, sobbing.
Mercedes and Briar are suddenly beside me, helping me up. “Come on, get up, mjia,” Mercedes says, tugging on one arm while Briar pulls on the other. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll all get fixed tomorrow.”
I search the faces in the crowd for Timber. I see a black knit cap, but it’s not him. If I wish hard enough, will I see him coming back to me? I close my eyes, squeezing out the tears, but when I open them, he’s still gone.
“I knew she would ruin my life,” I wail. “She said she would. She swore she’d get me back.”
Briar puts both arms around my neck. “We’ll get her back,” she says. “I’ll help you.”
chapter 15
THERE’S ONLY SO much time a person can cry, and I think I’ve exhausted my quota for a year. Since I got home last night, after we sang at Rockefeller Center, I’ve pretty much been facedown on my bed, bawling like a motherless kitten. If only I hadn’t done that stupid dance, I wouldn’t have pissed off Bella and she wouldn’t have kissed Timber like that, and I wouldn’t have gotten mad, and Timber would still be speaking to me. But I blew it! I wanted so badly to make him like me that I ended up making him run away.
All day long, my mom has been in and out of my room, rubbing my back, bringing me tea, and asking me if I want to talk about it. I don’t. My grandma has brought me ointments to sniff and balms to rub into my heart to help ease this heavy ache that’s filled up the space between my ribs, but it hasn’t worked. My little sisters and brother have sneaked in, one by one, to push my hair out of my face and leave me little presents on my pillow. Dad and Grove even stopped in this morning when they got home for their overnight gig in Boston, but I didn’t want to talk. Briar has kept watch over me the whole time, plotting and planning Bella’s downfall through a series of hexes and spells, but I’m afraid that everything I’d try would blow up in my face.
Sometime this evening Briar told me she was going out with Kenji, who, of course, can’t be apart from my cousin for more than ten minutes without losing his mind. And so, I think I’ll stay in my bed until I have to drag myself to school on Monday. I’ll just stare at the ceiling, wishing I could cry some more, except by now I feel like a washcloth that’s been wrung out and left to dry.
Then there’s a knock on my door. It’s not the soft knock of my mother, or the rhythmic knock of my dad, and it can’t be Grandma Fawna because she doesn’t knock at all. This is more of a quick pounding, followed by, “Enough’s enough!” Then Mercedes is in my room, flipping on the lights, yelling.
I pull the covers over my face. “Can’t a girl mourn in peace?”
“Get on up, mija!” Mercy says.
Ari’s close at her heels, tapping away on his CrackBerry. “I got a tweet from Kenji,” he announces. “We’re going to Red Hook.”
I pull my pillow over my head and groan. “You guys ...” I whine, then turn over and twist myself down inside my covers.
But Mercedes is having none of it. “It’s time to celebrate and yo
u’re coming with us.”
“What’s there to celebrate?” I ask, my face still buried.
“Miss Mercedes Isabella Rios Sanchez has landed herself a professional audition,” Ari announces.
I pop up in my bed. “Mercy, that’s wonderful!” I open my arms to hug her. “Was it one of the talent scouts from the performance yesterday?”
“Hell, yeah,” she says with a big grin. “Mama gonna audition for a mayonnaise commercial. First, I run this way with a big group of people, like we’re all having the best time.” She runs across my room. “Then we all run that way, like we’re still having the best time ever.” She runs the other way. “Then we all collapse in a big heap on a picnic blanket, laughing our asses off.” She falls on my bed beside me. “And then, obviously, we all start spreading mayonnaise on our sandwiches because nothing says good times like mayo.”
Without even knowing it, I’m laughing. “I’m so happy for you, Mercy,” I say, and hug her.
“Good, now get up.”
I fall back to my bed again. “No.”
She yanks the covers off of me. “Lordy, you’re still in your clothes from yesterday. I’m turning on the shower. Ari, you pick her out something clean and presentable to wear.”
I keep my face buried against the mattress, but I can hear Mercedes’s quick stomps down the hall, then the squeak of the faucets and the rain of the shower. I also hear Ari opening and closing drawers and pulling hangers across the metal bar in my closet. “Kenji and your cousin are already at the club. He says everybody’s there.”
“Everybody who?” I ask, my voice muffled by the wrinkly sheets.
He ignores my question and says, “You can’t be the only one who doesn’t show up, because then the terrorists win.”
“What terrorists?” I ask from my cocoon.
“The Love Terrorists,” Mercedes barks as she stomps back into my room. “We’re not going to let you lie there like some sad sack, broken-hearted damsel on a Saturday night. You’d look like the biggest loser, and I’m not talking about the TV show. Plus, nobody ever got her prince back like that, sister.” She pokes my leg. “Get up.”
“No,” I say. “Nothing I can do will fix this.”
She pokes me harder. “Get up, get up, get up.”
“Go away,” I tell them.
It’s silent for a moment, then I hear whispering, then a paper bag crinkles. I smell the chocolate before they speak. I almost lift my head, but I resist. “I’ve got cookies,” Ari sings. “Your favorite kind. Double chocolate crinkle cookies from Galaxy.”
He waves it beside my head. As the aroma of the gooey, chewy chocolate and powdered sugar as light as fresh snow hits my nose I realize that I’m starving. I lift my face from the mattress to look at my friends, who squat beside me, waving a giant cookie.
I reach out, but Mercedes smacks Ari’s hand back. “Shower first.”
“Come on,” I whine, reaching.
“Get up,” she says, and Ari dangles the cookie above me.
I sigh, heavy, as if my lungs were made of iron when I put my feet onto the floor. My head is spinning and my body is weak. I push my hair out of my face.
“Jeez, you look like hell,” Mercedes says.
“I feel worse.” I nearly slump back down to my pillow, but Ari breaks off a piece of cookie and hands it to me.
“We can fix that,” he says.
I can’t resist. I try to take just a nibble, but as soon as I taste the first crumb, I have to shove the whole piece in my mouth. I chew and swallow and realize that I’m parched. The water plinking in the shower sounds heavenly. I want to step in and open my mouth to drink. Let the water wash away all this sadness from my body and refresh my soul.
“That’s a girl,” Ari tells me. He takes two steps back and breaks off another piece of cookie. “Come on.”
Like an obedient dog, I get up and follow, letting him feed me one bit of cookie every few steps until I’m at the bathroom door.
“There’s more where that came from,” he says, and pats the bag in his hand.
Mercedes gives me a push from behind. “Make it snappy,” she says. “We want to get there soon.”
The shower does wonders for me, and for a few moments as I scrub away yesterday, I can almost forget how sad I am. By the time I step back into my room, wrapped in a towel, I almost feel normal.
“This?” Mercedes says, holding up my favorite green miniskirt and gold metallic tank top.
“Or this?” Ari asks, pointing to skinny jeans and a tee with embroidered peacocks.
“You guys are the best,” I say, but then I start to lose it again. My face crumples. “Remember how much of a superdork I was until you guys helped me out?”
“How could we forget? Your buttons all the way up to your neck and a belt around your waist.” Mercy says.
“But now ...” Tears creep back into my eyes. “What’s the point of looking cool?” I sniffle. “When Timber won’t even care?”
“No crying,” Mercedes warns me.
“That won’t get him back,” Ari says.
“But this just might.” Mercy turns back to my closet and takes out my green tunic and my boots, the ones I wore for the school audition. She shoves the clothes in my hands.
“You can’t let them see you broken down,” Ari says.
“You’re gonna walk into that club looking like the chica that owns the joint,” Mercy says.
“You want people falling at your feet,” says Ari.
I hang my head. “I can’t,” I tell them, rubbing the soft linen of Timber’s favorite tunic. “I’m too sad.”
“Then fake it until you feel it, honey,” Mercedes says.
“But we’re not letting you mope around here for another twenty-four hours,” Ari adds.
Mercy pulls Ari toward the door. “You’ve got ten minutes. And if you’re not downstairs looking glam, then I’m coming up here and slapping you into Tuesday.”
A tiny laugh bubbles up from my belly when Mercedes says this. I sort of smile. On the way out, Ari hands me another cookie. “For strength,” he says.
I’m pretty sure my friends are crazy, but I also know they’re trying to help. And I know they’re right about one thing at least—sitting around here crying will not change the situation. So I pull on the tunic, find a big belt, grab a few amulets hanging off my bedroom mirror, and pull on my favorite boots. Then I twist my wet hair into a bun so I won’t freeze out in the cold. I stand back and look at myself in the mirror. I look like I did at the audition. I remember Timber’s hungry eyes. Part of me wants to slump back down on the bed and sleep for the next day and a half until I have to drag myself to school on Monday, because he’ll probably never look at me that way again.
But I hear Mercedes calling my name, and I know that if I don’t go downstairs, Ari and Mercedes will come up and get me. I might as well give this a try instead of crying. I grab my bag and join my friends downstairs.
Standing here under the pulsing lights while everyone around me shakes and shimmies to the throbbing music reminds me how much I don’t want to be at Clay and Dawn’s club right now. It’s hard enough to act like I enjoy this place when I feel good, but trying to fake it when I really want to drop to the floor and sob because Timber isn’t even here is next to impossible.
Beside me, Briar’s shaking her groove thing so hard that sweat flies off the ends of her hair like a sprinkler watering grass. Kenji’s nearly in a trance, bopping on the other side of Briar, his eyes fixed on her every gyration, a beatific smile playing on his lips. When I watch him watch her, I want to grab Kenji by the collar and shake him, demanding to know what did it and why it didn’t work when I tried it. It’s not fair that she gets this kind of devotion when I got nothing. How did that stupid dance change him from the cagey guy who was never clear about his feelings for my cousin to this hopeless duckling following her around as if she’s his long-lost mommy? And would it have really worked on Timber if he had been watching?
> Ari was right about one thing: the club is full of kids from our school, including the entire supporting cast of Idle America, who are either dancing or playing Guitar Hero in the other room. I’ve scanned the club a dozen times looking for Timber, and I don’t know whether to be relieved he’s not here, which might mean he’s at home feeling as miserable as I am, or if I should be freaked out because Bella’s not here either, so they could be together.
When the song is over, I tap Mercedes on the shoulder, “I’m taking a break,” I yell in her ear.
Mercy shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she yells, and starts grooving to the next tune.
I plop down on the red vinyl couch near the bar. If I had a way home right now, I’d leave, but I can’t, so I close my eyes and try to block out the music so my brain doesn’t explode. “Hey, Zeph,” I hear Briar say. She falls onto the couch beside me. “You feeling better?”
I shake my head.
“You look better,” she says. “And anyway, sometimes acting like you feel good makes you feel good.”
Kenji sits down and wraps his arms around my cousin’s waist. “You’re so smart,” he says. “And pretty. Model,” he says, and they both laugh.
“Mom and Dad didn’t say yes,” I remind Briar, who’s been on cloud nine since Isadora Falcon asked her to be a model.
“Yet,” Briar says. “They’ll come around.”
Kenji pulls her down for a long kiss. When they come up for air, I’d like to knock their heads together.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Briar announces. “You want to come with me?” she asks me.
“No,” I say. “I’m fine.”
She stands, but Kenji keeps ahold of her hand. “Don’t go.”
“I have to pee,” she says, laughing.
“Hurry,” he begs, and I seriously think I’m going to barf Vitamin Water all over the red vinyl.
He finally lets go of her hand, but continues to watch her skipping off toward the toilets. I smack him on the shoulder. “Hey,” I say. Kenji turns toward me. The green tips of his hair glisten with sweat. “What happened with you?”
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