“I was homeschooled.” I braced for his reaction, but he didn’t falter a step. In fact, he twirled me, and surprisingly, my feet kept up.
“No kidding? So was I.”
I gaped. “You?”
“Yep.” He tilted his head. “You sound surprised.”
“A little.”
He dipped me, making my stomach flip. His eyes moved close, as if peering into my soul.
I caught my breath. “Okay, a lot.”
“Yeah? Why?”
“I haven’t met many other homeschoolers, so I guess I assumed they’d be . . . different.” Like me.
He laughed, then groaned. “You mean shy, awkward, socially inept, naive, sheltered, blah, blah, blah . . .”
His smile grew wider by the second, as if he enjoyed reciting the laundry list of dreaded qualities.
“Hey”—he touched my chin—“you don’t really believe all that bologna, do you?”
“Ha.” I lifted a finger. “There, right there. I’m pretty sure non-homeschoolers don’t use the expression bologna. Unless they’re like . . . ninety years old, maybe.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what others think. Do you?”
I bit my lip. “Sometimes.” I paused, suddenly feeling I could ask him anything. “Do you watch classic TV and movies, too?”
“That might depend on your definition of classic. I like the Rocky movies, Karate Kid, The Godfather. Paul Newman, Clint Eastwood. So yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you like board games?”
His eyebrows danced. “I play a mean game of chess.”
I remembered playing chess with my dad. He’d never needed more than a minute to make his move, but some of mine took forever. He’d been so patient with me.
“You?” Jay asked.
I nodded.
“Sounds like we have some good things in common. Small world, hey?”
I shook my head. I understood the expression, but that was just it—it wasn’t a small world. Not really. Not outside my home. Out here, it was a great big, scary world, littered with deceit and cruelty, a world I didn’t feel equipped to handle. So I tried to make it small. And that will never work.
Jay angled his head like he was waiting for me to reply.
How could I explain what I was thinking? Did I even want to? Would he understand? “The world feels too big to me. Sometimes I wonder if that’s because I was homeschooled.” Or maybe, in my current state of mind, I was just playing the blame game.
“If you’d gone to public school, you’d be wondering something else. Like why you had to spend most of your childhood away from your family, battling peer pressure, being forced to learn at an average pace.”
“Maybe I naturally learn at an average pace.”
“Ha, I don’t believe it. But at least you had the option either way. Me, I’m glad I wasn’t institutionalized.”
“Institutionalized?”
“Sure, that’s what public school kids are. They practically grow up in government institutions.”
“Isn’t that kind of a harsh label?”
“No harsher than how they label us.”
“Maybe no one should be labeling anyone.”
“True, but people do.”
We danced, not speaking for a few moments. He twirled me again.
I tried to keep up. “How’d you learn to dance?”
“Here and there. Watching, trying.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “You?”
“Oh, I didn’t.”
He glanced at my feet, his eyes glinting amusement. “No? What do you call what you’re doing right now? My imagination? Because I didn’t dream you up. You’re too real. Even with all that homeschool, my imagination’s not that good.”
Such flattery. I brushed it aside. If I’d learned anything today, it was not to believe a man’s compliments. “I mean, I’m learning to dance tonight. Now. You’re a good teacher.” Better than Harvey. The thought sent a pang through my heart. I almost turned my head to search for him, but stopped myself.
“Let me guess.” Jay studied me. “I bet your parents homeschooled you for religious reasons.”
I stumbled. How did he know?
“Relax, I mean that as a compliment. I can tell you’re nice, that’s all. I had religion, too. The way I see it, we were lucky. We learned to order our lives around God and family instead of peer pressure.”
His sudden mention of God surprised me, yet it didn’t.
“I’m glad I had the freedom and flexibility to explore my interests, shape my own future,” he said. “I saw the world being big as a good thing, an exciting thing. Homeschoolers are self-motivated, and out of necessity we develop some rockin’ independent study habits, am I right?”
“Well . . . wow.” Dancing wasn’t the only thing making me breathless now. “You got all that from homeschool? Maybe I should have gone to your house.”
“I wish you had.” He spun me again and the lights whirled. His tone deepened. “So you don’t agree with me?”
“I’m just saying, homeschool is no guarantee of success.”
“There aren’t any guarantees in life, but some choices are still clearly better than others.”
My gaze slid past his shoulder. “I think it’s a bit . . . arrogant to assume we’re better than kids who weren’t homeschooled. They might have gotten comparable benefits, in different ways. I think most parents try to do their best by their kids.”
“Sure, I didn’t mean—”
“And weren’t you ever lonely? Didn’t you ever feel different? Weird?”
“Whoa . . . I’m thinking I should really be insulted right now—”
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
“No, don’t apologize.” His smile revealed he wasn’t offended. “We’re unique, that’s all. Unique doesn’t have to mean weird.”
Unique doesn’t have to mean weird. I liked the sound of that.
“Everyone feels lonely sometimes,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame it on homeschool.”
I wasn’t, not really. I’d had friends through those years.
“I sure hope you give homeschool some credit,” he added. “Because it seems to me that you turned out pretty great.”
I ducked my head slightly.
He tipped my chin back up with a finger. “Hey, I mean it. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
~
I had no idea how many songs we danced to. Certainly more than I expected. Somehow, Jay’s company and conversation made time melt away.
“Lila!” Sarah appeared at my side in a rustle of satin. “There you are! Come on, you’ve gotta dance with me before the night’s over!”
My focus popped, and I glanced around the room and remembered where I was.
I barely managed to wave goodbye to Jay before Sarah swept me off to the center of the dance floor, bopping and rocking to the pulsing music, her dress a wild flurry of white. Attempting to imitate her moves proved difficult when I couldn’t see her feet. Just feel the music. It’ll tell you what to do.
“So are you having fun?” Sarah’s arms shot high, as if she were riding a roller coaster.
“Yes.” I nodded, smiled big, and tried to believe it.
“So how long have you and your date been together? Will there be wedding bells for you next?” Sarah wiggled her brows along with her entire body.
It was all I could do to keep dancing. “Ah, no.” I glanced back and couldn’t even see Jay. “He’s not my date. We only met today.”
“Really?” Her jaw dropped, hanging lower than her long, dangly earrings. “You were totally hitting it off. You both looked really into each other.”
I worked a shrug into my tired shoulders, and my ears felt like they needed to be unplugged. “We were just talking.” How I’d been able to tune out this racket to have such an intense conversation with him was beyond me.
“Not just talking. Dancing slow and close, as if you were the only two in the room.” She giggled.
“Sure, sure. Oh, before I forget . . .” Sarah sashayed sideways down the dance floor, beckoning me to follow. She snaked out an arm and caught a groomsman by the elbow. “It’s about time you meet my brother.”
Chapter 17
My stockinged heels slid to a halt. My eyes met Harvey’s and I felt a highly charged current of energy flash between us.
He still hadn’t told his sister he’d met me. No surprise, considering his deceit and the words I’d overheard earlier, but the disregard still stung.
I lifted my head, trying to peer down my nose at him. But without the extra height from my shoes, I couldn’t make it work.
I settled for a dry tone. “Oh, we’ve met.”
“You have? That’s great! Isn’t he the best?” Sarah punched his arm.
I wanted to do the same. Only harder. Much harder. “The best.”
“So where’d you meet? Here, tonight?”
“No.” I tapped my toes against the ground. “Weeks ago.”
Harvey frowned. Not with his face, just with his eyes. And just at me.
“What? And you didn’t tell me?” She whacked his arm again.
“Surprise, Sis.” He spoke to her but still looked at me. “Here she is, the friend you thought you’d lost for good—I convinced her to come. That’s my wedding gift, so don’t expect any fancy dishes or overpriced vases.”
Just like that, he’d reduced me to the level of a knickknack, a useless something to stick in a cupboard and forget about.
“Yeah, that’s me, the gift. Too bad he forgot to put me in a box, wrap me in paper, and top me with a bow.”
“A bow might have been a bit much. You’d probably look kinda odd.”
“No odder than I already look.”
With smiles securely in place, Harvey and I eyed each other, our silence crackling with tension.
Sarah blinked and glanced from me to Harvey and back again. I saw this from my peripheral vision and assumed she was perplexed, but I wasn’t about to break my stare-down with Harvey.
“Okay.” She held up her hands, perfect French manicure flashing. “You’re both weird, we know that. That’s one reason I wanted you to meet. But you’re also a couple of my favorite people—apart from my husband, of course. So we are dancing this night away together, hear me?” And she yanked us both out onto the floor.
Once I recovered my balance, I summoned all my energy and shimmied and shook and pumped my arms hard, all to keep from smacking Harvey when he ventured too close—which he seemed to be trying to avoid. In fact, he seemed to be trying to keep Sarah between us as a shield. Smart guy.
Cowardly guy.
At the end of the night—early morning, technically—Harvey finally spoke to me. “Ready to go?”
“Can’t wait.” I threw my shawl around my shoulders, then slipped on my shoes, clutched my purse, and marched for the door. I imagined leaving a stream of frigid air in my wake as I strode to the car and let myself in. I tossed the keys onto the driver’s seat.
Harvey climbed in and swiped them without comment. While I picked at the edge of my fingernail, he drove in silence for all of two minutes.
“Did you have a good time?” His tone was stiff.
“Yes. You?”
“Yep.”
Liars, the both of us.
Two more minutes of silence.
I watched white road lines flash outside my window and felt Harvey’s intermittent gaze on me.
“So what’s wrong?” he finally asked. “I can tell something’s bothering you, but that doesn’t mean I can read your mind.”
Apparently, all I’d needed was an opening, because once he provided it, I turned to him with no hesitation. “You pretended to be my friend just to get me to the wedding. Then you made fun of me because you were embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“What? I did not.” He looked at me like I was crazy. Another strike against him. “If I didn’t want to be seen with you, why would I have asked you to come?”
“For Sarah, of course. You’re the one who just called me her ‘gift.’ Clearly that’s all I am to you.”
“That’s not true.” He seemed to struggle to keep his focus on the road. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worded it like that to her, I admit. I wasn’t even going to take credit for you being there.” He rapped his knuckles against the steering wheel. “But I was ticked.”
“Makes two of us. It was bad enough that I was just someone to provide butterflies and then transport your car.” I replayed his words and laughter at the bar. “But to talk about me like that.” My eyes closed briefly, the full hurt and anger crushing me. “The way you did with those guys . . . that was cruel and humiliating.”
He shook his head. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He was going to make me repeat it? I squeezed my purse. “I heard you say I was just a terrible pink-haired embarrassment that you couldn’t wait to get rid of and forget about. You laughed at me. You led me on all this time, just so you could get me to the wedding for Sarah—which was nice for her, but also kind of messed up. I’m not a gift. I’m not an object. And I have feelings, no matter how weird you think I am.”
“Hey, weird was Sally’s word, not mine. But as for everything else, you’re wrong. I didn’t make fun of you.”
“You said you only brought me there for Sarah, that after tonight, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Don’t deny it. I heard you at the bar. Every word.” Or mostly, anyway. Enough. More than enough.
I stared out the windshield.
The low hum of the car motor was all I heard for the longest time. If I’d been secretly, desperately hoping for an emphatic denial or plea for forgiveness, I didn’t get it.
Instead, Harvey’s sudden loud guffaw made me flinch against my seat belt.
I gasped. “You think it’s funny?”
Still laughing, he appeared to be trying to catch his breath as he nodded. “I do. Hilarious.” He held up a hand and spread his fingers wide.
“No, listen. It’s funny because you’ve got it all wrong. I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about that.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. I turned my head to see what he was pointing at and spotted his discarded tie lying on the back seat.
The salmon-colored tie.
I swallowed, realization descending in an uncomfortable fog.
“Yep.” He nodded. “That’s the ‘lame pink embarrassment’ the guys and I were laughing about. The stupid ties Sally made us wear.”
Heat crept up my neck.
“I’m sorry if you thought I was referring to you, but I guess that’s what you get for eavesdropping.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was only trying to get a glass of water. And that wasn’t all I heard.” My voice came out strained. “You said every time I talk, you have to pretend to be interested.”
His brow puckered, and I imagined him searching his memory.
“You can’t explain that one away.” But I wanted him to. Please.
He laughed again. “I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about Sally, how every time she talked about the wedding, she’d go on and on with all these little details about sprinkled donuts and fancy paper fans and—man, it was so boring.”
His smile dropped and a muscle in his jaw flickered. “But you jumped to conclusions, and if you really believe I’m the kind of guy who would make fun of you behind your back—especially about something so superficial as the color of your hair—what can I say?”
He paused while he turned the wheel harder than necessary. “I guess it’s really not funny after all.”
Emotions clogged my throat and sadness smothered me. I fumbled with my purse, clasping and unclasping it, needing to pretend to do something. I felt sick. This drive was taking forever.
I had to apologize, but before I could manage the words, he continued. “Maybe we’d both be better off if you just go back to living in yo
ur—your safe little cocoon.”
My ears buzzed. “Chrysalis.”
“What?”
I tapped my nails against my purse. “If you’re trying to be clever and sarcastic and metaphorical by referring to butterflies, the correct term is chrysalis. A butterfly forms inside of a chrysalis, not a cocoon. Cocoons are made by moths.”
“Like it matters.” His tone couldn’t have been more derisive. Silence followed, prickling my skin.
He raked a hand through his hair. “I enjoy your company, your friendship. I thought maybe we had a good thing starting, but you—” He muttered something under his breath.
My heart stuttered. Against my better judgment, I whispered, “What?”
He shot me a searing look. “You ditched me and started cozying up to that other guy.”
“What? I didn’t—”
“Even if you don’t have experience dating, common sense should tell you it’s not cool to blow off your date to dance with another guy.”
There. There it was. He’d finally called me his date, but I couldn’t rejoice.
It was too late.
“But I thought you didn’t want to dance with me anymore. I saw you dancing with Amber.”
“I was just waiting for you. And Amber? Please. I owed her one. We practically grew up together. She’s like a sister to me, that’s all. But I’m guessing that guy wasn’t your brother.”
My brother.
How could he? His words burned me. Outwardly, I didn’t move. But inside, I recoiled as if he’d struck me.
I stared at my trembling hands. Sweat sparkled on my palms like glitter—ugliness masquerading as something beautiful.
The car swung around a bend and my stomach went with it.
My brother.
I had danced with him, long ago . . . when he was a sweet, chubby two-year-old and I was twelve. A lifetime ago.
He’d had an obnoxious, fat frog toy that played an inordinately happy, bouncy song.
I could hear it now. “Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, uh-huh . . .”
He’d loved that toy, that song.
“Froggy-woggy, sing!” he’d say, punching the toy’s belly to start the music. Then I’d scoop Matt up and frolic around the room with him. His soft fuzzy hair tickled my nose, and he smelled like baby shampoo.
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