Persuaded

by Rachel Schurig

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” Rick said, smiling up at me from the seat he had saved in the back corner of the room. We usually timed our lunches for later in the day, avoiding most of the other employees, and we took as many opportunities for privacy as possible.

  “Hey, yourself.” I leaned over to kiss him briefly, but he reached up to hold the back of my neck, lengthening the kiss until I blushed. “We’re at work,” I murmured against his mouth.

  “Can’t help myself.”

  I was sure my grin was goofy big as I sat down. He handed over the box of leftover Chinese food we’d saved from the night before, and I grabbed a bite, in spite of my distinct lack of appetite.

  “Let me guess,” he said, watching me over his bottle of water. “We’re going to bicker about the party some more.”

  I sighed. “I just don’t think you’ll have very much fun.”

  “They’re your friends.”

  I had no idea how to argue in a way that wouldn’t create more problems. If I told him I worried my friends would be snobby toward him, he’d naturally be offended. If I told him the other part of the truth, that I didn’t think he’d enjoy their company, he’d wonder why on earth they’d been my friends for so long if I seemed to think so little of them. I just couldn’t win. And there was no way I could explain to him how terrified I was of Emma finding out about our plans.

  “Hey.” He reached across the table to take my hand. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

  I looked up at him, searching his face. “You do?”

  “Sure. You’re worried you’ll realize how much you’ll miss them all. You think you’re going to get cold feet, don’t you?”

  I seized on the excuse. “I think you’re right.”

  He grinned and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get cold feet. I’ll rub them until they’re nice and warm again.”

  When I still didn’t appear convinced, he bent lower to look directly into my face. “Hey, come on, Annabelle. These are your friends. They’re part of your life. I want to get to know them before I sweep you away for the next year.”

  Looking into his face, a face that had somehow become so very dear to me over the last few months, I whispered the most honest thing I’d ever told him on the subject. “I feel like my life is starting over—I’m not sure they’ll be a part of the new one.”

  He watched me carefully, and I knew he understood. I’d told him the bare details of my scholarship, of attending the new school, of being accepted by Emma and brought into her social circle. I’d made it sound as exciting as I could—as exciting as it had felt in the beginning. I hadn’t told him how I was starting to feel trapped. Feel like someone I no longer recognized. I thought of the pitying look he sometimes wore when I mentioned Emma, and I knew, somehow, that he’d figured it out a long time ago.

  He spoke his next words quietly but with a strength I could feel all the way in my bones. “Then I think it’s even more important that you go to the party tonight. Leave on a good note. Get some closure.” He brought his hand up to cup my face, and I closed my eyes, leaning into it. “I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

  “Okay.” I had no more arguments. At some point, I had to be strong enough to stand up for what I wanted. And what better chance did I have than when Rick was there beside me?

  He picked me up promptly at eight in the old Ford truck my dad was lending him for the duration of the summer (in exchange for unpaid overtime). I tried not to think of how the truck would look outside of Emma’s house. I must not have banished the thoughts very well. As soon as Rick placed a hand at my back to guide me into the passenger side, he frowned. “You’re tense,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course,” I replied, trying to make myself believe the words.

  If Rick could sense the cause of my tension, he didn’t let on. Rather, he chatted normally the entire ride, filling me in on his day at work, his plans for our weekend, his plans for the trip. It wasn’t until we got closer to Emma’s house that he seemed to realize that this wasn’t going to be any normal party.

  “Holy hell, these houses are massive,” he murmured when I gave him the direction to turn into her neighborhood.

  “I know.” I tried to keep my voice light. “We’ll have to be very careful not to get separated once we’re inside. You’ll get lost in the maze of rooms and expensive furniture.”

  He chuckled softly. “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely. In fact, I find bread crumbs are a good backup plan.”

  “How many rooms are we talking here?”

  “I think there are ten bedrooms.”

  “Ten?”

  “At least. Have I mentioned she’s an only child?”

  He really laughed at that. “Are you telling me that a family of three lives in a ten-bedroom house? What on earth do they do with so much space?”

  I shrugged. “Bowling in the hallways?”

  Rick snorted. “What else do they have? Besides the ten bedrooms?”

  “Well, there’s the wine cellar. That’s about the size of my entire house. And the indoor pool—which is housed in a heated, glass-enclosed atrium. Real marble.”

  “Jesus.” He shook his head. “Emma’s pretty good looking, isn’t she? It was a bit dark last night.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned over at me. “Just in case you ever dump me.”

  “Hey!” I smacked his arm. “You think you need a backup?”

  “I’m just saying—if I was going to have a backup girl, it might as well be the one with the marble atrium and indoor pool.”

  I was laughing now, the thought of him with Emma was so ridiculous. “Okay, buddy, if you say so. I’ll be sure you get to spend some time with her, really get to know her.”

  He reached over and grabbed my hand, kissing my knuckles lightly. “On second thought, forget the marble atrium. I’d rather have you.”

  I was still giggling when he pulled up to the curb outside of her house. It was amazing the way he could banish my worries and insecurities so easily. I snuggled into his side when he put his arm around me, and led him up the circular drive to the imposing facade of the house. From the number of cars parked up and down the street, and the noise level already reaching us on the drive, I surmised that the party was already in full swing.

  I didn’t bother to knock on the door, gesturing Rick in ahead of me. The front hall was full of kids—most of them had that undeniably preppy look that always made me feel out of place, regardless of what I was wearing. Usually, I dressed just like them, in their designer jeans and little dresses—passed down from Emma, of course; I could never afford that stuff. But this summer, I had been opting for my own, more casual look. Jean shorts and tank tops with the occasional sundress seemed much more appropriate for the hikes and beach trips that occupied most of my time with Rick. It had been ages since I had felt underdressed, ages since I had put much thought into my clothes other than the occasional desire to wear something Rick had complimented. Tonight, I was wearing a blue and white sundress that Rick had bought me at a flea market in Ann Arbor. It was a soft cotton, slightly faded, and one of the most comfortable things I had ever worn. He had watched me fingering the soft fabric at the stall and plucked it from my fingers to buy it, telling me it brought out the blue of my eyes. I had worn it a dozen times since.

  I tilted my chin up an inch or so, determined not to lose the laughing, calm feeling Rick had bestowed in the car, and led him down the hall, responding to the occasional call of hello from old school friends.

  “Annabelle!” Mary called when we reached the kitchen. She was standing against the counter in the middle of a group of girls I had never met. Her brown hair was sleek and straight in a passable approximation of Emma’s signature tresses, and she was dressed in a black, sleeveless sheath that looked like it had cost more than the truck we drove over. She pushed off from the counter, leaving the girls behind, and came over to give me a hug.


  Though she tried to imitate Emma in most things, one thing she had never managed to pick up was a genuine embrace. Mary held you at arms length, barely gracing you with a single shoulder. It was like hugging a coat hanger. She pulled back, still holding my shoulders, and looked me over. “You’re so tan.”

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time outside.”

  She picked up a strand of my hair, wavy and light from hours in the sun. “This is…different. You look good, Anna.”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes in her face. She couldn’t have made it more plain that she thought my appearance had changed for the worse since the last time we had seen each other, when my hair was straightened and sleek. Admittedly, I had changed a bit over the summer. In addition to the clothes and the natural hair, I’d gained about ten pounds. It had been shocking how easy the weight had come on, just from giving up my normal fitness routine with Emma at the school gym. And eating so well with Rick, who maintained that diet food was a waste of time. At first it had panicked me a little, the new roundness to my hips and belly, but Rick had told me that he preferred me this way. “No offense, Annabelle,” he had said just last month, “but you were a little bony before.”

  “I’m so happy to see you,” Mary was saying, giving no indication that she had noticed me enter the room with a guy beside me. “I can’t believe you stayed here this entire summer, that must have been a nightmare! We had such a good time in Cannes. I want to tell you all about it—”

  “Mary,” I interrupted. “I want you to meet my boyfriend, Rick.”

  Her eyes went wide as she turned to him. “Your boyfriend?”

  “Yes. My boyfriend.” I made eye contact with Rick and was surprised to see that he was struggling not to laugh. I knew in that moment that he was thinking about bowling in the hallway, and I grinned at him. “Rick, this is my friend Mary. We went to school together. Mary, this is Rick. He’s here from England for the summer.”

  She took his hand when he held it out to shake, but she seemed speechless. I briefly wondered why Emma hadn’t told her—I had assumed she would have been on the phone immediately to share the shocking news. But Mary was clearly surprised by the introduction—or surprised that I had somehow managed to secure myself a boyfriend without Emma’s help.

  “It’s good to meet you,” he told her politely.

  “You, too,” she replied, finally rearranging her features into a normal expression. “I’m glad you could come.”

  She released his hand and turned back to me, eyebrows high. “I had no idea you were seeing someone, Anna. How did the two of you meet?”

  “Rick is working in my dad’s shop this summer.” I could hear the bite in my tone, as if daring her to say anything rude about the shop. Her eyes merely widened further.

  “Is that right?”

  “I’m working my way through a world tour,” he explained, slipping an arm around my waist. “I just finished university last spring and thought I’d see the world before I started work. I got a little distracted when I got here.”

  I wasn’t sure how much wider Mary’s eyes could get.

  “That’s fascinating.”

  She stared back and forth between the two of us for a long moment, as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Or, more likely, she couldn’t think of a way to ask what she wanted to politely. Luckily, we were saved from the awkwardness by Emma’s arrival.

  “Annabelle,” she said, grinning broadly. Her company face. “Rick, right?”

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m so glad you could come. We’ve all been missing our girl, here.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  She looked to our empty hands. “You guys need drinks.”

  We followed her to the keg in the back of the kitchen, Mary trailing after us. Unlike Mary, Emma was perfectly able to make small talk. As we waited in line, she asked Rick about his trip so far, what he had seen and where he had been. When he confessed that he hadn’t gotten much farther than Michigan, she shot me a sharp glance—but the friendly tone of her voice never changed.

  By the time we had our drinks and were making our way downstairs to the rec room, he was telling her about his time at university and his studies.

  A large group of friends from boarding school were lounging on the leather couches downstairs. They called out to us in greeting and made room for us to join them—pretty much a given, considering Emma was with us. She just had that effect on people—they always wanted to get closer, to welcome her in. I had been under that spell myself and had seen it hundreds of times since.

  The group paid very little attention to Rick or me, which was fine by me. I was happy to sit close to him, sipping my beer, letting the sounds of catching up wash over me, counting down the minutes until we could leave without making a scene.

  The conversation was exactly what I would have expected. Liz had been to Vale, and half the group felt the need to establish their own familiarity with the resort town, while the other half was eager to impress on everyone how much more amazing their time in the Alps had been. Jennifer spent a month in Milan, shopping, and Mary was determined to one-up that experience by sharing her own tales of Cannes. Elton had been to St. Kitts (“amazing resorts, really, you ought to see them”), and Jaxon had been to Martha’s Vineyard (“so down hill from last year, never again”), and Quinn had spent most of the summer on her family’s yacht and blah, blah, blah.

  I had noticed this about my friends before, of course. It was impossible not to see the way they engaged in constant competition to be the best, to have seen the best, to have spent the most money. Usually, I spent these conversations at Emma’s side, however, protected under the umbrella of her calm and confident superiority. No one dared to question her—in fact, most of this bragging was done in the hopes of trying to impress her.

  But today, Emma was on the other side of the circle.

  “What about you, Annabelle?” Liz asked, smiling somewhat tightly at me. She had never liked me much, Liz. I think she was closer to Emma back in junior high school and resented me for taking what she saw as her spot as best friend.

  “I stayed home,” I told her.

  She gaped at me. “All summer?”

  If I had ever needed a reminder that I was doing the right thing, this was it. I hated this stuff, the shallowness of it, the pettiness. I’d ignored it for a long time, but now it was like seeing it through fresh eyes—seeing it through Rick’s eyes, maybe. I thought of our plans for Madrid and Barcelona and Rome, and suddenly their boasting about expensive, exotic vacations seemed laughable.

  I smiled. “Yup. All summer.”

  “Well,” she said, pursing her lips. “You’re a braver girl than I am. I would have gone crazy after the first week.” She turned her attention to Emma, brightening immediately. “Emma, is that a new dress? I love the color.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said, smiling. “I bought it in Manhattan when we visited.”

  Mary sighed. “You always find the nicest things.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Will you please tell that to my father? I swear, all he did the entire summer was complain that I was buying too much.” Everyone laughed. Of course they did—the great Emma had made a joke.

  “Ooh, that reminds me,” she continued, slapping herself on the forehead before reaching for my hand. “Annabelle, I brought you back some clothes and shoes.”

  I stiffened beside Rick, my face immediately flushed with color. It shouldn’t be a big deal, really. Best friends share clothes all the time. And why shouldn’t she give her old stuff to me, if she wasn’t going to use it anymore? So why did I feel so embarrassed?

  “Clothes and shoes?” Rick asked, nudging my shoulder with his. I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made me feel even worse. “Is she your dealer or something?”

  I laughed, the sound shrill and unnatural in my own ears. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, Em’s been giving her clothes for ages,” Liz said, all fake
innocent and sweet. The glint in her eyes told the rest of the story—she was loving sharing this bit of information. “Designer stuff—you know, once it’s gone out of style.” She laughed a little, as if it was all a huge joke and she wasn’t actively trying to embarrass me. “Em and her mother spend a fortune on clothes every year, and they never wear half of it. And since Annabelle can’t afford that kind of thing—” She slapped a hand over her mouth, as if my lack of fortune was some huge, shameful secret never to be mentioned.

  I heard Rick’s sharp intake of air, and I was terrified he was going to explode at her. Before he could open his mouth, Emma was cutting in, her calm, strong voice smoothing the ugliness of the situation just as surely as I’d heard her mother do a hundred times over. “Annabelle is doing me a huge favor.” She smiled sheepishly at Rick. “Mom and I have an absolute addiction to shopping. Seriously—it’s like, a major problem. I wasn’t joking before—Daddy would kill us both if he ever knew how much we buy. But we can never seem to stop ourselves!” She winked at me. “It’s a godsend that Annabelle is the same size. Then she can help us hide away some of our extravagances before he notices.”

  I was torn between gratefulness at her ability to diffuse Liz’s insinuation and annoyance that she brought up the clothes in front of Rick in the first place. If there was one thing I knew about Emma, it was that she rarely did anything by accident. I’d be willing to bet every piece of designer clothing in her closet that she had wanted him to know, whatever her reasons might be.

  “Anyhow,” she went on easily, “come upstairs with me to see what you’d like, before I forget again.”

  I glanced over at Rick, finding it hard to meet his eyes. I wasn’t at all comfortable with the idea of leaving him down here on his own.

  “Go ahead,” he said, squeezing my hand and nodding toward the other side of the room. “I thought I’d go check out that pool game anyhow.”

  I nodded, feeling slightly sick. I knew we shouldn’t have come here. But then he squeezed my hand one last time before standing. “See you in a bit.”

  I had no choice but to follow Emma upstairs. Her room was exactly the way it was before she left at the beginning of the summer—palatial, designer, expensive. Funny, a few months ago, I had chilled out in this room, and it had actually felt normal to me—the size and the extravagance of it. Today was different. I was suddenly thirteen again, walking in for the first time, completely shocked and blown away that anyone could have a room the size of my entire house. Again, it was huge beyond belief. But, somehow, I was less impressed by it now than I was back then.