Also Known As (19 page)

My dad just rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Ha! That’s nothing! You should meet my friend Roux. Oh my God, she redefines drama. She—what?”

Both of my parents were looking at me. “Friend?” my dad said.

“You made friends?” my mom asked me. It sounded like someone was throttling her while she was talking.

“Well, yeah, I kind of have to make friends with people if I’m going to do this job.” I stuck the spoon directly into the (smooth, thankfully) peanut butter. “What, do you think I went to that Halloween party by myself?”

My parents exchanged the longest glance in the history of the world. “Honey,” my dad said, “you know you can’t really be friends with them. It’s ‘friends’ in quotation marks, right?”

The thing was, I
did
know that. Somewhere in the deep, shameful part of my heart, I knew that I wouldn’t always be friends with Roux, or even together with Jesse. It wasn’t in the job description, and I had watched my own parents pack up and move so many times that I had lost track. None of this was a surprise.

But that was before I had made friends.

“I know,” I told them. “But what else am I supposed to call Roux? My faux-friend? That’ll sound great.”

“Roo?” my dad asked. “Like Kang—?”

“She doesn’t like that,” I interrupted him. “Seriously. She’ll cut you.”

“Ah, wonderful.”

“Her name is French. And besides, she doesn’t have any other friends. I’m, like, her social life raft. Frightening, I know, but true.”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full,” my mom said. “Especially when you’re eating peanut butter.”

I hopped down off the stool and gathered up my bag and the jar of peanut butter. “Fine. I have to study, anyway. Calculus quiz tomorrow. It should be easy but the teacher likes to throw curve balls and I hate when that happens. So annoying.” I was babbling, I knew it. “Anyhoo, you know where to find me and my one true friend, the peanut butter jar. We’ll be hitting the books.”

I could practically feel my parents’ stares as I hurried off to my room, and who could blame them? I sounded like a peanut-butter-obsessed loonster. But I just turned on some music that Roux had sent me and immediately called her up. “Hi,” I said. “It’s me. Can you talk?”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m busy learning how to knit. Yes, of course I can talk! Are you crazy? You’re the only person who ever calls me, anyway. My social life has been worn down to the nub.”

Seriously, my parents wouldn’t believe that Roux was real, even if they met her.

“Okay, anyway,” I said, “do you promise not to freak out?”

“No.”

“Roux, c’mon.”

“Well, clearly you’re about to tell me something that’s worth freaking out about. So no, I cannot promise that. I have to freak out about things, I’m your friend.”

Just hearing her use the word made me feel guilty. I hated that. “So Jesse Oliver asked me out on a date.”

And true to her word, Roux proceeded to freak out.

“Get out of here!” she squealed after screaming directly into her phone and causing temporary deafness in my ear. “He did? Even though you two already sucked face?”

“Ew.”

“That is so romantic, I’m gonna die. And then you’ll have to revive me so I can come over and help you get ready. Are you going to get your hair blown out? I would if I were you. I mean, yes, the natural look is all well and good, but Jesse Oliver asked you out on a date, so this is no time to mess around. Even though you already sucked face.”

“Can you please stop referring to it as … as
that
?” I said. “Really, it sounds awful. Like two floppy mackerels going at it.”

“Okay, sorry. I’m just so excited for you! Did you tell your parents? What did they say?”

“They’re …” I searched around for the right words and came up with the wrong ones instead. “They’re not home yet. I’ll tell them later.”

“Do you think they’re going to make him be all chivalrous
and come over to pick you up? Oh, I hope he brings flowers. Not roses, though. Blech. So cheap looking. Are you allergic to pollen? If you are, then I’ll tell him so—”

“Roux?” I said. “Pump the brakes.”

“Sorry.” I could still hear her giggling happily, though. “Sorry, I just get excited. I should take a pill.”

“Yes, you should,” I said, before realizing that Roux probably
would
take a pill. “Actually, no, don’t take a pill. Just answer me one question.”

“For you? Two.”

I glanced out my window at the sea of rooftops and fire escapes and cloudy skies. “What exactly am I supposed to wear on a first date?”

There was a pause before she answered, “You are
so
lucky that we’re friends.”

Chapter 21

On Thursday, the day before my date with Jesse, I got a note in my locker that wasn’t really a note, just a careful ink drawing of a wide waterfall surrounded by café tables and trees, all sketched on heavy cardstock. I knew an invitation to meet Angelo at Paley Park when I saw one, so I made my way up to Fifty-Third Street after school, thanks to the always-present-and-always-creepy town car that the Collective was making me use.

(How did Angelo manage to get the note in my locker, you might ask? The answer is that I have absolutely no idea. I don’t know how Angelo does 90 percent of the things in life, but I do know that it’s best not to ask too many questions about it.)

All of midtown was in chaos, thanks to the autumn tourists and the parade that was happening on Seventh Avenue, and traffic was a nightmare because of it. After twenty minutes of going only three blocks, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m good,” I told the driver. “Just let me out here.”

“It’s my assignment to get you to your location,” he replied, and his voice was a monotone, kind of how the robots will probably sound when they take over the planet.

“Um, thanks, pal, but another twenty minutes of hearing those cymbals is going to give me a migraine.” I gathered up my bag and climbed out just as the cymbal section was passing by, which was a terrible decision on my part.

By the time I made it to Paley Park, I was half-deaf and all cranky. Angelo was sitting in one of the wire mesh chairs, as neat and prim as one could be while a parade raged just a block away. “We meet again.” He smiled when he saw me, but the smile faded as I plopped down into the chair next to him. “Oh, dear. Bad day?”

“Bad everything,” I said. “Why is there a parade? Why is there
always
a parade? And why do there
always
have to be cymbals in that parade?”

Angelo merely pushed his tea toward me. “Thanks, Angelo,” I said. It’s hard to be angry and frustrated when people do nice things for you, and I knew that sacrificing his tea was a big deal for Angelo. “I’m sorry, I’ll de-crank in a minute.”

He merely nodded and waited while I sipped. The waterfall was really beautiful, especially against the backdrop of the yellow-leaved trees, and despite the crowds on the streets, only a few people had taken refuge in the hidden patio. The sound of the water drowned out the parade, and after three sips, I was already feeling better.

“Thanks,” I said again. “Really. I’m back to being me.
What’s up? Nice drawing, by the way. You should do something with that. Put together a book.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” Angelo replied.

“Touché.”

“And there’s nothing important going on, my love. I just wanted to see how
you
were doing. There seems to be a lot of responsibility on your shoulders.”

“You think?” I said. “I’m fine.”

Angelo raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes. Fine. A lovely sounding word that means absolutely nothing.”

I pressed my knees together and covered them with my hands. I was wearing tights but they did nothing to keep the November chill away. I wondered what us private-school girls were supposed to do in January and February.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “All systems go.”

I didn’t even believe myself, though, and Angelo wasn’t buying it either.

“Well, if you say so,” he said. “Shall I get you an espresso?” He motioned to the cart that was at the patio entrance. “It’s not the best the city has to offer, but I know how you feel about dodging cymbals.”

I thought for a minute. There was something about sitting outside in the cold that didn’t make me want coffee or hot chocolate or tea. In fact, there was only one food I was craving.

“Could I have some ice cream?” I asked.

Five minutes later, I was spooning up chocolate ice cream with the flat little wooden paddle spoon that always felt like it was about to give me a splinter in my lip. “So,”
Angelo started again. “You say that you’re fine, but you’re eating ice cream on one of the coldest days of the year.”

“So?”

“And you seem a bit upset about parades.”

“Well, I think that’s a normal reaction.”

“For you?”

I sighed and sat back in my uncomfortable chair. The waterfall was loud, I realized, almost too loud. “Did you get me here for a reason?” I asked him. “Because it’s sort of deafening. Like, so maybe no one could overhear us if we were talking about important things?”

Angelo merely smiled. “One could assume that, yes.”

“
Should
one assume that?”

“Let me put it this way.” Angelo leaned forward and folded his hands in his lap before making direct eye contact with me. “If one should have something that he or she would like to say, this would be an excellent time to do just that. But I make no demands. I just offer an ear.”

And of course I burst into tears.

“Everything is all messed up!” I cried. “I’m doing it all wrong, my parents think I’m screwing up, and there’s this crazy amount of pressure and these school uniforms are terrible and sexist, too!” I used my chocolate ice cream-smeared napkin to wipe my eyes. “And I think I made a big mistake, too. Like,
really
big. The size of the solar system big.”

Angelo unfolded his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to me. “Thank you.” I sniffled. It had a large
A
stitched into one corner, which was so Angelo. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had ninety-nine more of them in a drawer
at home. “It’s just been really hard and I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggested. “It just so happens that I have quite a bit of time on my hands this afternoon.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

“It happens to be so.” He grinned.

So under the cover of a man-made waterfall in one of the most bustling parts of Manhattan, I told Angelo everything. Making friends with Roux, taking care of Roux at the party when she was too drunk to blink, barely being able to find the safe, and then how Jesse and I took Roux home.

“Angelo? I did something really bad.”

“Is anyone dead?”

“What? Of course not. Not because of me, anyway.”

“Then it cannot possibly be as bad as you think.”

I paused before mumbling, “I kissed Jesse Oliver. And not because I wanted to get information from him. Because I wanted to kiss him.”

Angelo pursed his lips before sitting back and nodding. He looked pissed, and disappointing Angelo was the worst feeling in the world. “I’m so sorry!” I said, the tears coming all over again. “I didn’t mean to, it just happened! I think I like him, but I’m lying to him and to Roux, too. And now I’ve been lying to you and to my parents! I’m a lying liar who lies!”

“Maggie, Maggie.” Angelo put his hand on my knee. “No, no, my darling. I’m not mad or upset. It would be quite hypocritical of me to be upset with you.”

“W-what?” I stammered. “Why would you be a hypocr—? Oh my God!” I slammed my hand over my mouth. “Did you once kiss an assignment, too? Did you fall in love?”

“It was a very long time ago,” Angelo admitted, and I put my other hand over my mouth when he said that. I was pretty sure that if my eyes got any wider, they would have fallen out of their sockets. “Many, many years ago,” he continued. “Before you, even. An ancient era. But yes. He was my assignment and he was quite lovely, and well.” He shrugged. “I suppose you can guess what happened next.”

“Did you make out on a stoop on the Upper East Side while eating ice cream on Halloween night?” I asked.

“Not quite. We kissed in Paris while watching a film noir festival.”

“Wow. Wow. Okay, so what happened? Did you break up after you got the info? What did you do? Did you keep any journals during this time, by any chance? Because I could really use a manual.”

Angelo laughed. “We had a lovely time together for a while, but then we came to a fork in the road, and we both chose a different path. A bit of sadness at the time, but no regrets. We still have coffee whenever I’m in Paris.”

“Did you get the information you needed from him?”

“I did, yes. And no, he didn’t know I was a spy, either. He still doesn’t. He thinks I’m an art dealer.” Angelo smiled and I realized that the smile wasn’t for me, but for the Parisian man across the ocean. “My point is, though, it
happens to the very best of us. We can train everything but our hearts.”

“That’s a little cheesy, Angelo.”

“I agree. But do you see? Love makes fools out of us all.”

“Well, it gets worse,” I told him. “I’m going on a date with Jesse tomorrow night. Like, a
date
date. I can probably get more information about his dad but …”

“But that isn’t why you said yes to the date,” Angelo guessed, and I nodded.

“I just … he’s nice and he’s cute and funny and it doesn’t seem fair to punish him for whatever his stupid dad is doing. And he’s even nice to Roux and no one’s
ever
nice to her.” I was starting to cry again. Apparently liking someone can make you really emotional. “And I know that as soon as this is over, we’ll go on another assignment and I’ll have to leave. I just didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s like I keep telling my parents, locks aren’t like people.”

Angelo let me cry for a few seconds before carefully putting both of his hands over mine. “Maggie,” he murmured. “There’s something that neither your parents nor I have said to you yet, and for that, I apologize. We should have told you this earlier.”