Beyond her: my cousins, half the honor society, and a few future milkmaids I’d fit for costumes. One of my favorite songs kicked on, which immediately made me want to dance. Of course this song would, because this party was for me.
My throat went dry. I hugged Mami and Abuelita—everybody was here. I made the rounds and at some point, Maya or Desiree placed a tiara on my head and led me to a cake.
“Mila,” Mateo said around a homemade pastele he’d stuffed in his craw. “You’re the only girl I know whose quince was so hot, the place burned to the ground.”
I put my hands over my ears. “Don’t remind me!”
“Naw, it’s cool. You’re, like, a legend.” He wiped his hands on his pants—his girlfriend next to him cringed. “Anytime a quinceañera comes up, somebody tells the story of the quince to end all quinces. So hot the fire wouldn’t quit.”
“That’s awful,” Amy said, her face stricken. “That really happened?”
“No one was hurt,” I said quickly.
Abuelita caught me by the elbow. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Under the balloon archway stood Liam.
He held a box wrapped with one of those bows you see in holiday department store commercials. Fat, shiny satin loops with the ends tucked under so the lid lifted right off. He stepped toward me, since I’d forgotten how to walk.
He handed me the box. “Your grandmother invited me.”
If I’d had the sense to summon the hurt, I would have. The past seemed distant and unimportant now. “I saw the show.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
I hadn’t seen a Laurenti in months—the longest absence in my whole life. Liam wore a black T-shirt underneath a black blazer. Something Ethan might wear, but this was very much not Ethan standing in front of me.
“You should open that,” Liam said.
“Oh, right.” I lifted the lid, really digging this whole attached bow. Inside, something pink, folded delicately.
“It’s a pashmina.”
The fabric felt light but substantial. “This is beautiful.”
“I’m sorry.” His cheeks threatened to blotch out. “Not about the pashmina. About everything else. I’m the jerk. I’m the one who ruined everything. I wanted to let you know I was the one who messed up. I’m so sorry.”
I let the apology settle over. I hadn’t expected any of this—the party, or him. Liam showing up was kind of perfect. Had we planned to meet ahead of time, I’d have so many questions. I’d want to dissect everything.
“I can’t stand that I hurt you.” Liam maintained composure, but his eyes glinted soft. “You’re the brave one. You did what was hardest for you, but I couldn’t see past you in my brother’s arms. I know now it wasn’t what it seemed.”
Not gonna cry. Nope.
Living away from the Laurentis had been a good move, but now that Liam stood inches from me, the weight of his absence hit like a sandbag to the gut. If he hadn’t shown up tonight, I could’ve kept riding the momentum that carried me through the past few months. Now all forward motion stopped. Only Liam remained, standing in front of me like he belonged here all along.
“I miss you.” He stole the words from my thoughts. “I miss hearing your voice in our house. I miss how you used to rag on me for my stupid clothes. I miss how you looked at me that night in the courtyard garden. Like you finally saw me.”
I truly saw him now. He wasn’t Ethan’s brother, he was Liam. His own person.
“I miss what we had before I wrecked everything. And I’m sure it’s too late and you have everything all together now. Your friends, a new house, and you probably have a boyfriend. I don’t expect anything by coming here. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry and I’m glad—”
“Liam,” I said. “Stop talking. I miss you, too.”
His whole body eased. He blinked and tried to speak but kept blinking. He was so freaking cute.
“I officially sold the app.”
“What?” I hugged him, not even realizing what I’d done until my body pressed against his. I stepped back and tucked my hair behind my ear. “That’s awesome. I’m so happy, and so proud. Really, that’s huge, Liam.”
He reached for my hand. “I couldn’t have done the app without you. Your name is listed in the development credits. Here, let me show you.” He took out his phone.
He tilted the screen toward me. This was like watching my gown on the runway all over again. Something I’d done that I could point to and put my name on.
“Thanks, Liam.”
“And you get a cut of the profits.”
“Are you serious? You know you don’t have to.”
“Minus what covers the phone you broke.”
“You still care about the busted screen on the test phone?”
“Gotcha.” He grinned. “Wait, I meant gotcha about the phone. The money is real.”
I hugged him again. I couldn’t help it.
“Does this mean?” he asked.
“I forgive you? Do you forgive me?”
Liam held on. “Always.”
He pulled back far enough to look at me. Full eye contact. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled, his smile transforming his face to reveal the complete Liam.
And then Liam kissed me. His insecurities abandoned, his confidence certain. He kissed me like our first kiss, but better. Magical, even.
“Whoo-hoo!” Mateo shouted, followed by a chorus of clapping.
I buried my face in Liam’s shoulder. “Are they all watching?”
“Affirmative.”
The song that came up at every wedding and quince came on. Maya led the crowd, sliding and cha-cha-ing. She could thank me later for having her watch every modern dance movie in existence.
I squeezed Liam’s hand. “Let’s be brave together.”
EPILOGUE
“One more, one more.” Gigi Laurenti balanced on blade-thin stilettos with a giant camera wedged between her manicured nails. “Smile!”
Spots danced in my vision. So many cameras.
“One more photo, just with you.” Mami said. “For your father.” Her smile was tight, but she dropped the stress more easily than she used to. The birthday card from my dad this year included an invitation to visit this summer. I would finally meet my half siblings in Texas. Something that wouldn’t have been possible had my mother not called him to talk things over.
Abuelita clasped her hands. “Look at you, my Mila. Even more beautiful than at your quince.”
Okay, this was getting embarrassing.
But my gown? My gown was basically amazing. Deep burgundy with a strapless bodice and jewels at the neckline, fitted to below my hips with layers of netting cascading out mermaid style to the floor. I was rockin’ the hottest designer prom dress ever.
My own.
I called Liam my accessory and he totally didn’t mind. His slim-fitting tux felt rich against my fingertips and smelled like wool fresh from a fabric bolt. He’d gone a step further with a gray bow tie (thanks to Jimmy, who loved Liam’s app so much he sent him the tie). Liam’s hair had something new going on—a major step beyond the Regular. Liam dialed up to a stylish hottie.
“UFit’s user-scored ratings are eighty-seven percent positive!” That was the first thing Liam had said to me on prom night. Yup, still Liam under all that style.
“We should go. We’re meeting Maya and Mateo at the restaurant.” Because Mateo finally won over Maya. He majorly scored with asking Maya to prom.
Also, we had to move quick because this wasn’t just prom. Oh no. We were going big. Real big.
DOUBLE PROM.
Liam’s school and mine held prom the same night. Liam couldn’t not go to his; this was his senior year. (Never mind that he’d been willing to forgo prom at the yacht club for mine at the decidedly less ritzy park district pavilion, but seriously—senior year.) I convinced him the memories could never be re-created. Like a bad teen movie, we were going to make two proms happen, minus any magic.
/> Ethan appeared with Haylo on his arm. Thankfully, no reality TV cameras followed. Well, for now. Filming for the next season of their moderately successful basic cable show started in June. This time, the family would sail to Aruba on their mega yacht. Cue shenanigans.
“Hey.” Ethan caught me. “You and Li look great together.” His cheeks reddened the slightest bit. Cool and casual Ethan embarrassed? Ha!
“Thanks.”
I watched him join Haylo for another round of photos. Wombat burst from inside and put his paws on Haylo, who screeched until Ethan calmed the dog and sent him back inside.
“Ready?” I turned to my date.
“One more thing.” Liam grabbed the hefty camera and led me to the courtyard garden. “This is where I first saw you. When we were kids. My first memory of you, at least. I thought I’d take your picture here.”
I played along, posing by the little fountain, holding up the hem of my dress and letting it down again, loving the feeling of the material against my ankles. “I never played back here. I kept to the side courtyard.”
A shy grin slid across his face. “You did come back here. Your grandmother, she let you play in the garden when she was watching you. I could see you from our playroom.”
I looked up to the second floor, where the lounge now overlooked this spot. “Because you were watching me.”
“I was five. You fascinated me.” He took another picture while I looked away from the camera.
“I barely knew you existed.” I closed my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean I was too young to like any boys. Of course I knew who you were.”
He set the camera on a stone bench. “Your turn to stop talking.” He playfully touched a finger to my lips. “For now. Later when we’re with all your friends, I’ll need you to talk.”
“Oh, really?” Our lips grazed in a slow dance with only a breath caught between us.
“I say stupid things. It’s why I didn’t say anything for so long. About how much I liked you. Amelia, you inspire me.”
Warmth spread through me down to my peep-toe shoes. That’s what I wanted most, was to inspire. To be inspired.
Liam’s hand moved across my waist and traveled up my back. Right now, in this moment, no one else existed. Only Liam, the boy I thought I knew everything about but was just now discovering. The thrill of knowing him more was almost as strong as the comfort of his familiarity.
He closed the distance. We fused together, our bond deeper each day we shared dreams and moments and inspirations.
It was as if all the different threads in my life had now stitched themselves together. The pattern of my heart, reset.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to the many people involved in my journey to becoming a published author. First, thank you to Meredith Rich and Bloomsbury Spark for recognizing the potential in Alterations. Thanks to Hali Baumstein for keeping track of loose threads, and to the rest of the Bloomsbury Spark authors for such enthusiastic support.
Infinite thanks to my agent Sarah LaPolla for her continued support and encouragement.
Thank you to my early readers: Alexandra Alessandri for insight on Miami (any inaccuracies are mine alone), Valerie Cole for those long chats, and my fantastic critique group J. Leigh Bailey, Kelly Garcia, and Vanessa M. Knight for weighing in on numerous drafts. More heartfelt thanks to Windy City Romance Writers, YARWA, along with Darcy Woods, Clara Kensie, and Erica O’Rourke for your insight.
I couldn’t manage without the support of the Pitch Wars community and Brenda Drake, the YA Buccaneers, The Sweet Sixteens debut group, as well as the Miss Snark’s First Victim blog’s author community, and the many writers and bloggers I’ve met through Twitter and Instagram.
More thanks are due to those who may not know their impact. Paul Bishop for encouragement that sourced from your own writing journey, Phil Scott for deciding to assemble memories into a book, and then you actually did it, and to Curt and Lisa Hughes from Life Church, where you asked our small group to name our passion and not just “something churchy.”
Thank you to my family who have always been supportive of the arts, and to my mom who is a true reading ambassador. And to Jason Scott, my first reader, my best friend, and the one who reminds me daily how far I’ve come.
About the Author:
Stephanie Scott writes Young Adult stories about teens who put their passions first. She enjoys dance fitness and cat memes, and Pinterest is driving her broke. Born and raised in Kalamazoo where there are no zoos, she’s a Midwest girl at heart. She now lives outside of Chicago with her tech-of-all-trades husband. You can find her chatting about TV and all things books on Twitter and Instagram at @StephScottYA. Alterations is her first book.
For more news on Stephanie Scott’s books, join her author newsletter community here: Join My Newsletter!
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Copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Scott
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This electronic edition published in 2016
First published in December 2016
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Alterations Page 24