Pippa wanted to hold Grandma Tea’s ring. Erin held her breath as if the ring would magically transfer ownership when Pippa slid it down her finger.
“Why aren’t there any stones underneath?”
Erin had no idea why the channel setting only went three quarters of the way around. “That is a very good question. My grampa gave that ring to my grandmother for her seventeenth birthday. He would have been twenty at the time. I don’t imagine he could afford stones going all the way around.”
Pippa had a million questions—Was it an engagement ring? Did she always wear it? What did she do when he gave her a real engagement ring? How did Grandma Tea feel about the stones not going all the way around?
Erin knew her grandmother had admired a different ring in a shop window, and this one was similar, but she didn’t know whether the original one—the one Erin’s grampa presumably couldn’t afford—had stones going all the way around it. But knowing Tea, she probably was just happy to have the ring.
And to have him. They were always sappy in love.
Grandma Tea claimed the spark had never left them. Grampa definitely would have stood by Tea if she’d accidentally barfed in his lap.
Erin couldn’t imagine her grandparents in Lalitha’s observatory. Ew. Not an image she wanted in her head.
Finally, on the way home, they covered black holes and dying stars.
After Pippa and Erin shared afternoon tea, Pippa retreated to the trampoline and Erin sat on the sofa with her homework. Between feeling mad at Ben and feeling sorry for herself and worrying about what kind of social scene awaited her in Wheaton, Erin was a complete wreck.
She was unwilling to relive the Hairy Buffalo incident over and over, but she couldn’t help it. She wished the whole world already knew, so she would never need to rehash the story again. Then, perhaps, she could leave it behind her.
Pippa retired from the trampoline and joined her in the living room. “You’re staring into space, you know?”
“Sorry,” Erin said and opened her computer. Hitting rock bottom, she pored over hundreds of photos of Ben she’d tucked into a folder on her hard drive. Ben playing basketball. Ben snuggled up to her on her sofa. Ben driving her Fiat. Ben doing a keg stand. Her arm wrapped around him, holding their twin plastic cups at Lalitha’s party. That was the last one of them together.
Screw him.
Before she could change her mind, she pulled up Claudia’s contact information and fired off a few texts.
Erin: Claudia, this is Erin Cerise.
Erin: First, thanks for your kindness when I was drunk.
Erin: Second, steer clear of Ben.
Erin: What happened between us in that observatory wasn’t what it seemed.
Erin: But I was super drunk, and he didn’t treat me the way a good guy would treat his girlfriend.
Erin: It is clear to me (both from that night and from Lalitha) you deserve a good guy.
Erin: Actually, all of us deserve good guys.
“Please reply,” Erin said. As if in reponse, someone pounded on the front door.
FORTY-SIX
Through the bay window, Erin spied a grinning Hank bearing a cardboard box.
Pippa yelled, “Hank!” and let him in without consulting anyone.
“Hey, Pip!”
“Can you stay for dinner? Mum is making shepherd’s pie!”
“We can talk about that. Is Erin here?”
Erin wished Hank had either heard nothing about Hairy Buffalo, or heard everything and was already past it.
Pippa led him by the hand to the living room.
Hank bit his lip. “Hi.”
Erin did not roll her eyes, shake her head, or use a dismissive voice, as she knew she’d done in his presence in the past. She played it straight. “Hi.”
“You’re home early,” he said.
“Swim is over.”
“I know. I mean.” Blushing, he thrust the box in her general direction. “I heard.” Hank looked at Pippa, then back to Erin. “I heard you’d had a rough couple of days. I also, uh, heard that you came to New Zealand because of, um, stuff at home.”
Flames burned from her chin to her forehead. Now Hank knew all her secrets. All of New Zealand knew about the pink puke. And Ben. And the Quigleys.
Damned Quigleys.
Erin squared her shoulders. She could stand up for herself.
Hank stared at the carpet and fiddled with the metal rings hanging off his pants. “So, uh, this is to sort of cheer you up. And, uh, I thought I might continue with your tourism efforts and show you a little about Christchurch and the CBD.”
He held the box toward her again, and Erin accepted it with straight arms, as if it might be a bomb.
“I’m getting around just fine.”
He bit his lip again. “Right. I just. I go rock climbing at The Roxx a couple days a week. It might be a good way for you to meet people now that you have more time for fun.”
“I’ve met plenty of people, thanks. Swimming is over, but we still hang out.”
“Right. Well. I wrote the address inside the box, so if you change your mind. It’s 4:15 Mondays and Thursdays. Come any time. Tell Felicity I’ll have you home for tea. Only if you want.”
Pippa said, “Stay for tea today. Mum would love to have you. She’ll be home any moment.”
Erin said, “Pippa, enough. Let the guy go.”
“What is it with you? Don’t you like boys?”
If only Pippa knew. “I think I’ll finish my work in my room.”
“Want to jam?” Pip asked Hank.
“Sure, I can stick a minute.”
Erin slammed her bedroom door and threw the box on her bed. She didn’t feel like homework.
Hank’s box was full of junk food: Arnott’s Caramel Crowns, a bar of Cadbury’s milk chocolate, Hokey Pokey Squiggles, gummy bears (SCORE!), mini Crunchie bars, pineapple lumps, and chocolate fish.
She texted Lalitha.
Erin: You will never believe who just stopped by the house.
Erin: Hank.
Erin: He knows the whole story.
Erin: Lalitha?
It was Friday evening in Wheaton, like the one time a week when Lalitha could reliably text.
Erin: HELLO OUT THERE
Erin: He brought me a box of candy.
Litha: I am on a DATE, Erin. Talk tomorrow?
Well, fuck.
Erin read Hank’s note about climbing and found more written on the back. Dear Erin: We don’t have Dove chocolate, Twix, Oreos, or Butterfinger. And we have nothing anywhere close to fudge stripe cookies. But we do have Haribo gummy bears, agreed far and wide to be the very best. (I tossed in some pineapple lumps and chocolate fish, which are my favorites.) I hope this cheers you. Sorry about your bad week.
She flipped over the package of Caramel Crowns to find a note scrawled in Sharpie: Twix? Caramel Crowns had caramel inside, not entirely unlike Twix. The Squiggles had a note, too: Oreos? The huge Cadbury bar: Not Dove, but our best. At the bottom of the box, a small white box held a rectangular piece of chocolate cake: I doubt you’ve found your favorite café slice yet. Based on everything else I know you like, I chose chocolate caramel for you.
Lucky guess. And how had he known about everything else? She reread his notes. She couldn’t remember mentioning any of this to him.
This box of sweets was the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received. And it was from Hank.
She picked up the box and found him and Pippa playing guitars at the dining room table. Felicity was home and prepping dinner.
Felicity said, “Hank, what are your plans for the holidays?”
“Rock climbing with the crew. We’re heading up to Wharepapa for ten days.”
Erin said, “You take off work for the school break?”
“Most of New Zealand just stops for two weeks. People don’t want you working in their house when they’re home with their kids, or when they’re away at the batch for a week.”
Erin s
aid, “Are we going to the beach for a week?”
“A bach—B-A-C-H—is like a summer place or holiday house,” Felicity said. “We’re thinking about the North Island. If we don’t head up there, we might hit Tata and Pohara on Golden Bay.”
Tata and Wharepapa were so New Zealand.
Hank said, “I should go.”
“Thanks for the box.”
He studied his shoes. “No worries. And the rock climbing offer still stands.”
This guy had searched all over Christchurch for something approaching a comforting care package for her. She couldn’t very well say no. “Sure. I’ll try next week.”
Hank hugged Pippa good-bye. “Lesson on Sunday?”
She gave him a thumb’s up and saw him out.
Erin asked Felicity, “So, what’s Golden Bay?”
“Huge crescent beach on the north end of the South Island. It stretches forever. On fair days, you can see from one tip to the other. We don’t have a bach, because we like to explore. What did Hank bring you?”
“A box of sweets.”
“That was a pretty big box for sweets.”
“Yeah,” Erin said, opening the Caramel Crowns. “He did a good job.”
Hank had searched for ways to comfort her and had been so attentive he somehow knew exactly what she needed.
Erin needed to see Ben.
She drove up the long driveway to find him perched on the front porch in jeans and a striped sweater. Ben pulled Erin from the Fiat and into his arms; he was an instant balm to her panic.
Bushy firs shielded them from the street, but not from Ben’s next-door neighbor, who weeded his garden between surreptitious glances in their direction.
When Ben pressed Erin up against his house and kissed her, she didn’t care who could see. Who needed a swimming captainship when she had Ben?
He slipped his hands to her backside and shifted Erin into their most comfortable vertical position: limbs encircling each other to maximize contact.
When their frantic, hungry kissing relaxed into sated pecks, Ben toyed with Erin’s ringlets. “Symphony practice good this morning?”
Erin nodded before voicing the fear growing within her. “I told you about those new girls—the Quigleys—do you think Waterson will kick me off the team because of them?”
“I think—” Ben’s hands swept across her belly, searching for the right words. “I think a lot can happen in a few months. Look at us! Last May I didn’t even know you, and by July we were—well, you know.”
Their relationship had taken root quickly, growing from unknown to full force. Within two months, Ben had become her present and her future.
She searched his face for answers. “But what if it’s over for me?”
“So what? You gotta find that silver lining. You can make more of my basketball games. And you’ll have more time for moon gazing, right next to me instead of over the phone.”
The moon’s constant presence comforted and fascinated her. Nothing outside of Wheaton fascinated Ben, but witnessing Erin’s awe during a penumbral lunar eclipse had inspired him to indulge her. They often stared at the moon during their brief nightly phone calls; it was the one daily moment that was irrevocably theirs.
Erin had also believed swimming, speed, and competitiveness defined her and was irrevocable. Before she could explain that, Ben was kissing her again.
Swimming, cello prowess, and great (but not amazing) grades formed what Erin’s guidance counselor had dubbed “the tripod of her Columbia candidacy,” and a third of that tripod was teetering.
Time with Ben might diminish the pain of leaving swimming, but Ben had no pull at Columbia; she couldn’t put him on her résumé. An Ivy League education—complete with solid connections and lucrative opportunities—would propel Erin into a great medical school, a great job, a great life. Erin’s mom attested that breaking into the Ivy League after undergrad was a steep, uphill battle, so she needed to get in now.
Erin needed to be exceptional.
Ben kissed up her neck and held her so close that his features blurred in her vision. “Hey, I get that you’re worried, but it will all work out. This won’t change us. I love you, and that won’t change. We’re solid, Erin.”
Here their opinions diverged. Ben had already committed to play basketball for Stony Brook, where he could keep his car and visit her in New York City on weekends. Rejection from Columbia would be fatal: she and Ben would have an expiration date.
Ben kissed Erin, but she struggled to lose herself in him again. This was the same helpless feeling she’d had the night before when Ruth Quigley had pulled ahead of her during time trials. The wall of the pool had seemed to retreat into the distance, virtually unreachable.
Without Columbia, her entire future would fall apart.
Ben palmed Erin’s glutes, pulling her closer. She turned her head away as he kissed her ear.
“If I can’t captain the team, that leaves a huge void in my college applications. I can’t swim JV as a senior.” She searched his face for a glimmer of understanding.
“Why not? Your times are the same either way. And I don’t care if you’re JV or V.” He breathed heavily in her ear and tugged at the waist of her shorts. “Well, I care about your ‘v.’ I care about your ‘v’ a whole lot.”
“Ben!” She whipped around to find Ben’s neighbor leaning on his rake, staring.
Ben maneuvered himself between the neighbor and Erin, her Fiat blocking them from the waist down. Erin’s core pulsed as Ben slipped his hands up her shorts, brushing her upper thigh. She loved that Ben made her body hum.
“I cannot wait for our long limo ride tomorrow night,” he said.
“We don’t have to wait that long, do we?”
“Nope. I have an amazing surprise for you tonight.” Ben kissed her between words.
“What is it?”
“Can’t ruin the surprise! Call it an early birthday present.”
She loved surprises. “How about a hint?”
A cobalt sedan reversed into the driveway and Ben retracted his hand to wave. Erin readjusted her outfit.
“I’ll show you tonight. Gotta go to Jamie’s.” Ben and his best friends had plastered their cars with bumper stickers for radio stations, music shops, and cringeworthy phrases like MAYBE THE HOKEY POKEY IS WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT. When they drank too much, they often crooned “The Hokey Pokey,” sometimes removing articles of clothing instead of the usual motions.
Ben pecked Erin’s cheek. “Sorry to get you all hot and bothered.”
“I’m sure you are. Text me when you’re on your way to Lalitha’s.”
Ben walked backward toward the car, his eyes still on Erin. “I’m sure we’ll have things to say before that.”
Erin arrived home to an empty house and a note from her parents. Sailing with Heather and Paul! One hour of cello, one draft of admissions essay in my inbox, and all homework done or you can’t sleep over at Lalitha’s.
Privately, Erin added Spend the rest of the day on intensive worry about your college prospects before making a snack and heading to her room in silence.
FORTY-SEVEN
Felicity was going to Wellington for three days to meet her brand-new niece. As Hamish loaded her luggage into the Nissan, Erin said, “May I try out your bike while you’re gone?”
“It’s not a mountain bike,” Felicity said.
“I’d like to try biking to school so I don’t have to stick to the bus schedule.”
Felicity pulled her helmet off the wall and handed it to Erin. “Think you can suss this out?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Careful on the roundabout. There are signs for bikers. Use the footpath on the bridge, then take care when crossing roundabout exits. Drivers will watch out for you, but it’s tricky. Do not try to use the roundabout as a car might.”
“Got it,” Erin said. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Erin was stunned by the straightforward transac
tion. She often had to convince Claire she’d already agreed to something to get her to agree to it. If Erin claimed to have received a green light while Claire was at work, on the phone, working out, or otherwise occupied, Claire never refuted it. She knew she was always distracted, and Erin took full advantage.
Yes, she was a bit of a manipulator back home, but she needn’t be one here. Here, more importantly, she would become a biker.
With each gust of wind, Erin’s skirt flew up. For several minutes, she held the hem to keep her underwear private. At the bridge, she gave up. Underwear was practically a swimsuit, and half the world had seen her dressed down to that. She rolled up the waist of her skirt and biked away. It was freezing. Christchurch mornings.
Getting to school was easier than she’d expected, and the roundabout signage was no trouble.
At Ilam, Erin surveyed the treasure trove of bicycles to the left of the administration building. Swathes of students chatted as they unbuckled their helmets and parked for the day. No bikes were locked.
They were either trusting or stupid, and she couldn’t afford to be either with Felicity’s new bike. She locked it to the huge, metal structure.
Good decision. No bus ride. Not using her bus card meant she didn’t have to find time to refill it, either. She hadn’t been sardined into the back of the bus. And she could bike to The Roxx far more easily than transferring buses.
“Waited for you at the bus stop this morning,” Marama said at lunch.
“I biked today.”
“No kidding. Mind if I borrow it to run to Bush Inn? I bused today and I’m dying for sushi.”
What could go wrong?
“Sure. No worries.”
Erin walked Marama to the bike rack and unlocked the bike. “It’s 0-9-1-9. You have to lock it up at Bush Inn, okay?”
Marama agreed and was off.
Being the one with the bike was cool.
Ruby’s guitar trio fumbled through “Under the Bridge” as Erin settled back into her corner. It had taken her ages to learn that riff; she should offer to help them.
Giving up, they switched to original music. Words were never Erin’s forte, but these musicians were rhyming a capella with stellar. Stella! Pure brilliance.
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