Be the Girl: a Novel

by Tucker, K. A.

  “Homework,” Emmett says in a croaky voice. He clears his throat. “How was swimming?”

  “Good. No one pushed me into the pool today.”

  My eyes widen in surprise. “Someone pushed you into the pool at swimming lessons?”

  “Yeah.” She nods. “Ranjeet. He thought he was helping.”

  “That happened four years ago,” Emmett reminds her.

  She shrugs.

  “Cassie, start the bath!” Heather calls from downstairs, earning her daughter’s huff of irritation. Still, Cassie listens, disappearing into the bathroom.

  My phone chirps with a text from my mom.

  How’s the project going? Murphy needs his walk soon.

  “Man, she’s holding me to this dog-walking thing.” I gather my books. “I should probably get going.” I don’t see us getting any more work done on our presentation tonight.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a calculus test to study for.” Emmett laughs at my cringe and walks me to the door, pushing it almost shut to block my way. “Talk to you later?” His voice is low, each word somehow touching my body in an intimate way.

  “Yeah.” I clear the shakiness from my voice under the weight of his gaze. “Just so you know, my mom monitors my phone. Like messages and all that.”

  “Wow. Really?” The expression that takes over his face makes me want to shrivel from embarrassment. What if he second-guesses this thing between us? What if he decides he needs someone older, less supervised?

  I don’t have much choice; I have to explain. “There was this thing back home.” I hesitate, dread swelling in my chest as I try to temper my voice, “I was getting these messages from people for a bit.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of messages? From who?” he asks warily.

  “Just kids from school sending me things.” Prayers for death, wishes for broken limbs, dreams of tragic afflictions, general hatred. Those sorts of things. I clear the thickness from my throat. “My mom’s paranoid, but as soon as she realizes that none of that is going to repeat itself here, she’ll ease up. So, just for now, know that she’ll probably be reading whatever text you send me.”

  Emmett’s face fills with pity that I don’t want. “Seriously, it’s fine. It’s over. I’m here now. ” My eyes skate to his full lips. “Things couldn’t be better.”

  “I can make them better.” He leans down to press a long, leisurely kiss against my lips. “Run, tomorrow morning?”

  “I can’t,” I pout. “I have practice. With regionals coming up soon, Moretti’s on a mission.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in class, then.” He kisses me one last time and I force myself out of his room, half-expecting to float down the stairs.

  The tub water is running in the bathroom but the door is open and Cassie isn’t in there. She’s still downstairs and, when I start my descent, she darts down the hall to the kitchen, the distinctive rattle of candy in a box trailing her. “Mom! You have to hide it from AJ!” she says in a harsh whisper that may as well be a yell.

  She’s up to something and, if I had to guess, it has to do with my birthday.

  She reappears as I’m sliding my shoes on, her grin suspect.

  “We’re going to the shelter tomorrow, right?” I ask, feigning oblivion.

  “Yup.” She presses her lips together, looking ready to burst from excitement.

  “Get lots done?” Heather calls out, strolling toward us.

  “Uh … yeah?” I bend down to collect my things from the bench, and to hide my pink cheeks.

  “This weekend is kind of big. Your sixteenth birthday, eh?”

  “Shhh!” Cassie presses her index finger against her mouth as she follows me to the door, suddenly urgent to get me out. “See you tomorrow, AJ.” The door practically closes on me, and I hear Cassie lamenting, “Mom! You almost ruined the surprise!”

  “I did not, but you are going to.” Heather’s laughter fades as I move farther way from the Hartford house, picking a path through the front lawns to home, glancing up at Emmett’s bedroom once. I would do anything for my window to meet his.

  Then again, that would spell doom. As it is now, it’ll be hours before I’m able to drift off.

  Too busy staring up at my glow-in-the-dark stars and pinching myself over and over again.

  Wondering if this is what I deserve.

  * * *

  Dear Julia,

  I told Emmett. Not EVERYTHING. There’s no way I’ll ever tell him—or anyone here—the whole story. God knows he’d never look at me the same way again. But he knows enough.

  I wish I had a time machine, Julia. I’d do anything to go back in time.

  To erase it all.

  ~AJ

  16

  Jen’s round face pinches. “You are, like, super happy this morning. What gives?”

  I struggle to shrink my grin as I pull my social studies textbook from my backpack and chuck everything else into my locker. “Nothing. I had a good run today.” Even Holly’s scowls and huddled whispers and suspicious laughter with her friend couldn’t dampen my spirits. I blew past her to lead the pack, beating my best time. Ever. I couldn’t wait to finish, couldn’t wait for first period to start, so I could see Emmett again.

  A hand grazes my back a split second before I catch the scent of his body wash.

  I spin around just as Emmett leans in, pressing his lips against mine. “Hey,” he whispers, his brown eyes twinkling with a secretive smile.

  “Hey.” And my wide grin is back as I peer up at that stunning face I could stare at all day, a face that is no less striking today than it was the first day he walked through my door.

  I still can’t believe this is happening.

  The first bell rings.

  “Be back in a sec.” He gives my side an affectionate squeeze before peeling away to speed to his locker.

  It leaves me reeling.

  “A good run, huh?”

  I turn back to meet Jen’s gaping mouth. I shrug, not trusting my own voice.

  “When did that happen?”

  “Last night.” I watch Emmett as he sheds layers and tosses in textbooks, sharing a laugh with a guy standing next to his locker.

  Is he really mine now?

  Are those broad shoulders mine to wrap my arms around?

  Are those strong arms mine to graze?

  He hip-checks his locker shut and, with a grin at his friend, heads back my way, holding that devastating smile.

  Is that beautiful face mine to touch, to kiss, whenever I want?

  Adrenaline rushes through my veins at the thought of the next time we’re alone together. When exactly will that be? How long do I have to wait?

  Holly strolls past Emmett, cutting in front of him and forcing him to halt.

  He gives the back of her head a mildly amused look, but she doesn’t acknowledge him, let alone apologize. Her head is held high as she strolls into our classroom, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Maybe an act of indifference? There’s no way she’s over him so quickly, purged social media or not.

  “Does she know yet?” Jen asks.

  “I don’t see how. You’re the first person I’ve told.” And Emmett’s a guy. I can’t see him texting all his friends to share the “big news” the second I left last night. And Holly wasn’t at her locker when Emmett kissed me. My chest tightens with anxiety. “What do you think she’s going to do when she finds out?”

  Jen slams her locker shut. “For your sake, hopefully nothing.” There’s no mistaking the worry in her voice.

  “Hopefully nothing what?” Emmett is next to me again, leaning in for another kiss.

  “See you later,” Jen says somewhere in the distance. Far, far away from this euphoric cloud I find myself floating away on.

  “Okay, you two. Second bell’s about to go,” McNair warns sharply, yanking me back down to earth, her tone likely less to do with punctuality than with the school’s policy on PDA.

  Emmett pulls away with a gr
oan. “So, when are we getting together to work on our project again?” he asks softly.

  “I was just wondering the same. Are you free—”

  “Mr. Hartford. Ms. Jones.”

  Emmett’s jaw clenches with annoyance but he takes a step back, eyes rolling.

  I stifle my laugh as we move toward class, sucking in a breath as his fingers graze the small of my back.

  We step in to plenty of curious eyes settling on us.

  And one set that glares suspiciously.

  Whatever. If she has a problem with this … it’s her problem.

  The second bell rings and announcements blast over the intercom as we take our seats.

  The next sixty-five minutes are a blur.

  A blissfully happy blur.

  * * *

  Mick is taking me to see some tile options for the kitchen this afternoon. That orange linoleum has to go! I’ll be back around five.

  A date?

  I watch the three dots dance on my screen as my mom types her answer.

  No, of course not. What kind of date would that be?

  But what if Mick thinks this is a date? Would you be okay with that?

  More dancing dots.

  Would YOU be okay with that?

  Will YOU stop making zucchini bread if I say yes?

  I get a flat-mouthed emoji in response and then,

  I’m asking seriously, Aria. You’ve been through a lot.

  It always comes back to me.

  Mom … Dad had a baby with another woman. You should date if you want to.

  I hesitate before sending the next text.

  And Mick seems like a nice guy.

  Not that I know him at all.

  Doesn’t he? I don’t think he charged me for replacing the broken lock on the back door.

  That’s because he cut himself a key so he can sneak in at night.

  Aria!

  Gotta go. Jen will think I fell into the toilet.

  I smile and tuck my phone away before finishing up in the bathroom stall. I step out and round the corner.

  And find Holly standing in front of the tiny mirror, dabbing at the tears that run down her cheeks. I hadn’t heard the door creak open, hadn’t heard her make a sound. At least she’s alone.

  And I can guess what those tears are about.

  I quickly wash my hands, intent on getting the hell out of there. She deserves it, I remind myself. She brought this on herself.

  I’m two seconds from the door, thinking I’m going to avoid an awkward confrontation.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Her silky-smooth voice rings with a sudden realization.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Guilty. I sound guilty. Can she hear it, too?

  “That’s why you were staring at me in the caf that day, at lunch.” Each word comes with more conviction. “That’s why you called me out in class over Jen’s name. You were in here, hiding in the bathroom stall, recording my private conversation.”

  “Your private conversation in the girls’ bathroom?” I scoff, trying to shrug it off, daring to face her now.

  Disgust twists her beautiful face. “And then you sent it to Emmett so you could break us up. So you could have him.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Holly.” A tiny twinge deep inside me flares at her accusation, as if she hit somewhere too close to the truth. “I heard what you said.” I add quickly, “Emmett played the recording for me,” though I don’t know if I’m fooling her anymore. “He deserved to know who he was dating. That’s why whoever sent it to him did it. So he’d know the truth about the kind of person you are.”

  She takes two steps forward, moving into my personal space, her eyes filled with rage. “You’re going to regret it.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.” I hold my stance, setting my jaw, meeting her glare, hoping she can’t see the dread in mine.

  The door swings open and two girls stroll in, stopping short at what must look like a fist fight that’s about to break out. I use the interruption as my excuse to hightail it out of there.

  What will Holly’s next move be? She has no proof that it was me.

  I remind myself of this, even as the weight of her promise settles in my gut.

  This is not supposed to be happening again.

  * * *

  It’s five thirty when Heather pulls into the driveway after picking Cassie and me up from the animal shelter. My mom and Mick are leaning against the posts on opposite sides of the porch steps, my mom’s stance casual as she laughs at something Mick said. She’s swapped her usual yoga pants and T-shirt for dark-wash jeans and a soft-pink long-sleeved knit top. Her hair and makeup are done.

  She looks … different.

  Happy.

  Murphy moseys around the front lawn, his nose to the grass, his leash dangling from his collar as if my mother thought to take him for a walk but gave up.

  “What is Mick doing now?” Heather asks, parking next to Emmett’s SUV.

  Her.

  Emmett’s lewd comment from the other day rings in my ear and I stifle my cringe. How long before she’s staying over at his house? “The kitchen floor, I think. Mom wants tile.”

  “That’ll freshen it up.” She eyes them shrewdly. Does she suspect that there’s more going on than rendered handyman services?

  Cassie pushes the door open. “Murphy!”

  The old black dog’s tail wags as he hobbles toward us, giving Cassie’s hand a quick lick before coming to me, his tail’s wag quickening.

  I scratch the top of his head. “How was your day with Uncle Merv? As exciting as usual?”

  “Aria! I need you to peel the potatoes,” my mom calls out, throwing a casual wave toward Heather, who’s heading up the porch steps with two bags of groceries.

  “You, too, Cassie. Carrots,” Heather calls—earning Cassie’s exaggerated groan—as Emmett steps out the front door.

  “Hey, you.” Heather angles her cheek up, prompting a kiss from her son.

  He appeases her with a quick peck. “Is there more in the car?”

  “Three more bags. What time are you leaving tonight?”

  “Practice is at eight.” Our eyes meet and his face splits into a smile as he saunters down the stairs, heading toward me.

  My stomach flips with anticipation. Is he going to kiss me again, like he did this morning? In front of our mothers and Cassie? Oh God, I hope not. I don’t want to deal with those questions yet. It’s bad enough everyone in school knows already. As quickly as news of Emmett and Holly’s breakup spread, by fourth period I felt eyes from every angle, and whispers of “That’s her” trailing me. People asking who the new girl is and what Emmett sees in her, likely.

  But seriously, doesn’t anyone have anything else going on in their lives? The only person who seems to have no clue yet is Cassie.

  I scoop up Murphy’s leash and take steps backward, toward the sidewalk. “Hey, Mom, I’m gonna walk Murphy around the block and then I’ll be in to help. Five minutes.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bring the rest of the groceries in as soon as I’m back,” Emmett echoes, for Heather’s sake. “We need to go over a few things. About our project.”

  “I’m coming, too!” Cassie declares, tossing the bag of groceries to the grass, and marching toward me.

  I school my expression to hide my frustration. If she knew her brother and I were together, would she still insist? Definitely.

  “Mom.” Emmett gives Heather a pleading look.

  Heather presses her fingertips against her forehead, as if the task of mediating between her kids causes her pain. “Cassie, you’ve been with Aria for the past hour. Let’s give them five minutes to talk about their project.”

  Cassie scowls and keeps walking toward me, ignoring her mother’s request.

  “Cassandra Jayne Hartford, get in this house now,” Heather demands, her typically serene tone sharp and leaving no room for argument.

  Cassie’s face hardens as she whips around and stomps
her feet.

  “On your way by, please pick up that bag you threw,” Heather calls out, tempering her tone again. I can hear the weariness in it. How exhausting must it be dealing with Cassie’s childish outbursts?

  Cassie bends down to grab the bag’s handle and then runs in her off-balanced way up the path, letting the contents of the bag bear the brunt of her anger, smashing against the stair rails as she clomps up the steps, mumbling something at her mother that I can’t decipher but that can’t be good.

  Emmett sighs deeply, as if to shake off his frustration with his sister, and then throws a hand in the air. “Hey, Ms. J.”

  “Hello, Emmett.” She watches him curiously as he closes the distance toward me.

  “Be back in fifteen.” I walk ahead but slow enough for him to catch up.

  My mom folds her arms over her chest. “Fifteen now …” But the small, knowing smirk touching her lips tells me she’s not bothered.

  “Hey.” He nudges my arm with his.

  My heart skitters. I’ve been waiting for this moment all day. “Hey.”

  “They still watching?”

  Ever so casually, I glance over my shoulder to see Mom’s gaze following us. “Still watching.”

  “Have you told her yet?”

  “About what? Oh.” That Emmett and I are now a thing. Are we officially a thing? “No.” I’m not sure if I believe it yet. “Does your mom know?”

  He shrugs. “She’ll figure it out soon enough. She’ll be happy. She loves you.”

  I feel the conflicting swell and tightness in my chest. Would she want her son with me, if she knew everything there was to know? Would she want Cassie as my friend?

  “What’s wrong?” Emmett asks.