Schooled

by Piper Lawson

  “Should we pick Dylan up?” I asked casually. “I mean, if he’s going?”

  “I think his girlfriend’s dropping him off. Marcy, or Marcia or something.” Ava leaned forward and clicked on the satellite radio.

  I hit the brakes. Literally.

  “Lex, what the hell?”

  Ava looked shocked and someone behind me honked. Fortunately we were on a side street and the limit was thirty. But reason had vanished from my brain and something else entirely took over.

  “Sorry, thought I saw something. A dog.”

  Was he actually seeing someone else? Or had he just given the excuse because he couldn’t avoid the scrutiny any longer?

  Forgiving the minor stroke I’d just had, Ava continued. “Kate can’t make it home this year—something about good first impressions and no vacation the first year of … whatever you call it. Pharmacisting? Drug selling? I dunno. But Ethan’s home for the weekend. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

  I’d had a bit of a crush on Ethan when we were in high school. In that innocent, seeing-glorious-pecs-for-the-first-time kind of way. I could remember seeing him in board shorts by the pool. Funny, the image didn’t do anything for me anymore.

  I tried to push the Dylan news out of my mind as we neared the Cameron house. Even if I’d had an hour to think it over I probably would have only succeeded in getting myself more and more worked up rather than actually landing on anything helpful.

  We pulled up to hugs. Ava had come by her good hugging skills honestly.

  “Lex, honey, you look terrific.” Christine was short and shared the same coloring that Ethan and Kate had—sandy brown hair and blue eyes. Dylan and Ava took after their father. “Glad to see you bounce back.” The last time I’d visited had been shortly after Jake had dumped me, just before heading to New York. I’d seen better days.

  Christine wrapped one slender arm around my shoulders, took the cookies from me with the other.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Ava called from behind me.

  “I love you too.” Christine tossed over her shoulder. “I’ll love you even more if you stop bringing your laundry home.”

  Until noon we helped Ava’s mom prep for dinner. Paul made a few appearances to check on the turkey. I tried not to think of what Dylan had said about his father. It shifted the way I saw him. “She won’t let me at anything.” He winked conspiratorially while Christine swatted him in the shoulder.

  “That’s because the last time you made cranberry sauce, you put salt in place of the sugar.”

  “An honest mistake,” he protested mildly. He grabbed a spoonful of pumpkin pie filling before Christine could stop him.

  No matter his faults, I still marveled at the way they interacted with each other, with Ava. They were so sweet. This was the family I’d always wanted. And I guessed that in a way, I had them.

  Just as Christine opened her mouth to comment, the door opened.

  “Saved by the bell!” Paul exclaimed. “Son, your timing is impeccable.”

  My ears perked up until I heard Ethan’s smooth voice coming from the foyer.

  “Glad to help, Dad. I’ll collect later.”

  Ethan came into the kitchen, a gallon of cider in one hand. He leaned down to envelope his mom in a one-armed hug before sliding the jug into the fridge.

  Ava had had enough of helping for now, and Christine assured me she was fine. Ava, Ethan, and I went to the living room, curled up on the sofa and arm chairs. Ava put on some music, Ethan opened a beer, and we caught up. He showed us pictures of some of the insane houses he’d sold, a few to B list celebrities. “Watch out,” I threatened, “you keep hanging with that crowd, you might end up on TMZ.” He laughed. This was family.

  After a while I heard new voices in the kitchen, and Dylan materialized in the doorframe. He must’ve come through the back by the pool. Our eyes met, held.

  “Hey, bro.” Ethan raised a beer but didn’t get up. “I thought you were going to be playing rugby this winter. Don’t you have to work out for that?”

  “I missed you too, asshole.” Dylan’s grin was slower than usual to come, but when it did it was real. I felt a little pang because it was the first I’d seen him smile like that in days. And it wasn’t at me. “You know the season doesn’t start for months. And I go to the gym.”

  He grabbed the beer out of his brother’s hand and dropped himself into the empty chair.

  “So how’s the cheerleading squad this year?” Ethan didn’t mince words.

  Ava was in on it too. “Yeah, D, why isn’t Marcia coming for dinner?” Her eyes were bright with mischief.

  “Marcia?” Ethan turned to Ava, who nodded in confirmation. They were both clearly content to leave Dylan out of the conversation entirely. “Sounds hot. I like her already.” This experience of siblings good-naturedly ganging up on one another was one of the things I’d missed out on as an only child. But it was hard to appreciate it given the topic of conversation. I didn’t have anything to add besides glaring at Dylan until he melted into the ground, so I sipped my cider, trying to look impassive.

  “She is hot. And she dropped him off here today.” Ava played her trump card, sharing a victorious smile with Ethan. Despite her dark and his fair, you could see the resemblance in that look alone.

  Dylan looked uncomfortable at their provocation. His long body was relaxed, one ankle crossed over his knee and his arms dangling off the overstuffed rests. But he didn’t look directly at me when he answered. “It’s no big deal.”

  There was a block of ice in the pit of my stomach that refused to move. Part of me wanted to run out the front door and not look back. I hated feeling this way.

  My thought train was interrupted when Christine called us for dinner.

  Dinner was better than I expected. There were jokes and laughter, some goodhearted ribbing. The dynamic between the Camerons had always impressed me, but I’d started to take it for granted. What was it Dylan had said that day in the car? You can’t choose your family. They may not have chosen one another, but God they looked comfortable. In that moment I saw exactly why Dylan had done what he had for his father, to protect his mother and siblings. While it was hard to say with certainty, I sensed that any one of them would’ve gone to the wall for the others.

  The Camerons were real family. For the first time in more than fifteen years, I felt out of place.

  A couple of times Dylan reached over to touch my leg, like he was trying to communicate something, but I ignored it.

  I had no idea if Dylan and I would turn into anything serious. And what if I told Ava and it fractured our relationship? What if it didn’t, but Dylan and I broke up? This was his family. I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.

  When the pumpkin pie was done I excused myself to use the washroom.

  Bracing my hands on either side of the sink, I tried to calm down. The thoughts had been racing through my mind with increasing velocity despite the warm mood at the table.

  I heard a soft knock at the door. “Hey, are you OK?”

  Taking a deep breath I pulled open the door and looked up at him.

  He stepped toward me and pulled the door gently closed behind me. “Listen, about what Ava said—about Marcia …”

  “I’m not jealous, Dylan.” I was totally jealous.

  “Nothing’s going on. But I wanted another chance to talk.”

  I waited though I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. He’d apologize for running off, despite knowing the ground rules we’d established weeks ago, and ask if we could move forward.

  “OK, let’s talk.” I gave him the opening and he took it.

  “This sneaking around, I don’t get it,” he stated. “I’ve been trying for weeks to understand why you think this is the only way and my brain’s starting to hurt from the effort. And frankly, I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it.”

  I blinked a couple of times. This was not the apology I’d expected. My brain tried to catch up as he continued.

>   “Let’s just tell them. Tonight. Right now.”

  “We can’t, Dylan. I can’t.” His family was the only real family I’d had. I wasn’t willing to risk my relationship with Ava, or with his family, for something I couldn’t count on.

  He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Do you know what I think the real issue is? It’s that you’re afraid to care about someone. You give me crap for trying to live up to people’s expectations instead of doing my own thing, but you do exactly the same thing.”

  “What?” My voice was louder than I’d intended.

  “You’ve built up these defenses and you won’t let anyone in because you’re afraid to look weak. And I get why, Lex, I do. But somewhere along the way you’ve got to trust me on this.”

  Dylan’s eyes were conflicted as they held mine for endless minutes. I wanted to give him what he was asking for, but couldn’t. My chest tightened with every second he looked at me asking for something I had the power to grant but wouldn’t.

  It was as if both of us realized this was different. That neither of us was willing to concede. And if we couldn’t agree on this …

  He shook his head. “It’s pretty straightforward. I care about you. I … I care a lot. But I can’t be with you and not be with you. I’m not ready to lie to my family and friends, to sneak around because you’re afraid to be seen with me.”

  He turned and left, pulling the door shut behind him. And when he did, it felt like part of me went with him.

  Goodbye, Dylan.

  Chapter 25

  The week after Thanksgiving passed painfully slowly. Dylan’s words kept haunting me. Was he right? Was I afraid to go public because I didn’t want to hurt other people, or because I didn’t want to get hurt? Maybe it was both.

  The breakup bothered me most because I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, not even Ava. Especially not Ava.

  In the past three months I’d completely gotten over Jake. But I’d come dangerously close to falling for Dylan.

  Scratch that—had fallen for Dylan. I’d known it at the fashion show. When he was trying to understand me. When he gave me space because I’d asked for it. And then he’d given me that stupid perfect bridge he made himself.

  But because of my fears of us being found out, of how that might change things, he was gone. I wondered whether he was still thinking of me the way I was about him. He hadn’t texted. Or been by to drive us to school. Ava said something about him having sold his car, though I had no idea if that was true. For me it was telling—he didn’t want to see me.

  So I buried myself in work. On the plus side I was close to finishing the appendices for the business plan presentation. Revenue projections, market stats, and distribution channels were being neatly arranged into pie charts and tables. Ava’s three pieces from the fall fashion show would anchor the collection we’d show in New York, and Ava was well on the way to finishing the rest of the pieces.

  We had a schedule that would get us to the fourth week of December when we would pitch. Kirsten was going to send me a list of her friends who planned to come, and I intended to use that to my full advantage: researching each of them so I understood what they did, what they liked, and what toothpaste they used.

  Exams were also on the horizon, so Jane and I were heading into lockdown. But in just two weeks we’d be free and clear.

  I’d be on a plane to New York the morning after my finals were done. Three weeks in New York, working at the magazine for two of them, seeing what had happened with the accounts I’d worked on, coming up with ideas for next year, catching up with friends I’d made in the summer, New Year’s in Times Square. And of course Ava there for most of it.

  My parents held firm to their notion of not coming to visit. But in lieu they’d booked me into a hotel for the time I was there. It was a nice gesture. Especially since I’d tried Nadia and found out she’d moved in with her boyfriend. But she did want to hang out while I was in town.

  Ava was going to fly out a few days after me so that I had some time on my own to get established with the magazine again. Two days after that, on the Monday before Christmas, we’d pitch to Kirsten and her friends. Though we had a rough idea of what time we’d have the meeting in the afternoon, she had warned us we might have to be flexible as these things often changed last minute.

  I had the date marked off with a giant red X in my calendar. I could have tattooed it on my ass because it was the date that would be the start of everything. When we were on TV five years from now, talking about the keys to our success, we’d smile and laugh about that first meeting.

  By the next week finals were in full swing. That meant two things on campus: studying and partying. I liked to focus on the former and get to the latter only once everything was ticked off. By which point the best parties were usually done, which suited me fine.

  Which was why I was asleep when I heard Ava’s cell ring Saturday night. I looked at the clock beside my bed, the neon lights reading 2:19 a.m.

  After three rings it stopped and I heard Ava’s voice. Though I couldn’t discern the words, her tone was grumpy. A moment later I heard her shriek “What?” Then her alert voice said, “I’ll be right there.”

  I stumbled to my door, met her as she was pulling on jeans and walking out of her room. “What’s wrong?”

  “My brother’s at the hospital. Can I borrow your car? I need to go pick him up.”

  My stomach leapt into my throat. “Dylan? Is he OK? Do you want me to come with you?”

  She brushed it off. “No, he’s fine, just had to get a few stitches.”

  I wanted to scream at her to tell me what had happened. I wanted to call Dylan just to hear his voice and know that he was OK. In the end, I settled for pacing instead. We weren’t together. And he’d called Ava, not me, for help.

  The next half-hour I paced in front of the door. Then up and down the stairs. Then back in my room. Twice I pulled out my phone to call Dylan or Ava, but put it back down when I reminded myself I wasn’t allowed to be worried about him like this anymore.

  What if Dylan had been really hurt? I was crazy about him and couldn’t bear the thought of him getting injured and not knowing I had his back.

  When Ava got home I was still wide awake. I tiptoed to the top of the stairs. “Everything OK?” I tried to sound casual.

  “Yeah. He just got into it with some guy at a party. They’re both fine, apparently—just a little banged up. It’s weird though, because Dylan doesn’t usually fight.”

  Thoughts flashed through my mind. I wanted to ask what had happened but didn’t. Instead, I forced myself back to bed before I could say or do something stupid.

  ---

  Emily was waiting in the kitchen to ambush me when I got home from an exam on Monday. We hung out occasionally but weren’t typically that tight. We had been closer when I hung out with the football crowd during my Jake years. “So a funny thing happened.”

  “What?”

  “My brother said Jake came to practice with a black eye and stitches today.”

  I stared at her. “And?”

  She went on like I hadn’t said anything. “Andrew saw it happen, at a party Saturday. He heard Jake with some other guys. Apparently he was talking about getting back together with you.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Yeah but it gets weirder. Out of nowhere Dylan Cameron hit him. They went at it for a few minutes before the guys were able to pull them apart. Both of them ended up in the hospital.”

  Thoughts were racing in my head. Either Jake was flat out lying or had severely misinterpreted our conversation last month. Clearly Dylan had overreacted. I was shocked he’d actually hit him. It took me a moment to realize that Emily was studying me closely.

  “Lex, what’s going on?” She asked. “Is there something I should know? About you and Jake?” She paused, hesitated. “Or you and Dylan? I won’t say anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I sighed. “Nope. There’s
really not.”

  Chapter 26

  A few days later I was back at work, and it felt right. Exams had been brutal, but thanks to my sudden lack of social life and newfound study time, I aced them.

  Being in the New York office right before Christmas helped to clear away some of the depressing storm clouds I’d been under the last few weeks. It reminded me why I was doing all of this, which I’d desperately needed.

  There was such a buzz around the magazine for the holidays. Though it was Christmas we were finalizing the February issue, and working on vendors as far ahead as June. The offices were decked out in fine form with a giant yet tastefully decorated tree by the elevators. My spot, a cubicle down the hall from Kirsten’s office, was already strewn with garlands and lights by the time I’d arrived. And working at a lifestyle magazine meant great swag—no red and green kitschy stuff in sight. Instead, silver and white tinsel with white lights shaped like tiny many-pointed stars. Probably handcrafted. No doubt the pieces were samples from one of the latest decorator collections.

  I’d had a wonderful catch-up with Kirsten shortly after landing yesterday. She’d taken me for dinner at one of her favorite places, an intimate Italian restaurant in TriBeCa.

  Kirsten was thirty-five and was the youngest Director of Accounts in the magazine’s history. To me, she was everything I’d ever wanted to be: glamorous, smart, and successful. She traveled a lot for work, but no matter where she was based, she gave it her all.

  “So tell me about school,” Kirsten had asked as she twirled a glass of Pinot Grigio in her hand. “Has it changed anything for you this year?”

  “Not at all. If anything I’m more committed to the label,” I said honestly.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “Something about you seems different,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “It’s been a good year so far.” Parts of it had. “I’m learning lots in my courses that should help us in the next year.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. We’re looking forward to seeing the collection and the plan, Alexis. I’ve been hyping it to my friends. So if you don’t mind talking a little shop on your first day back, maybe we can run through your presentation outline.”