Envy (Fury) (5 page)

“That’s a surprise.” Gabby rolled her eyes. “I asked what we should do after the Spring Fling. Whether or not there’ll be an after-party.”

While Em tried to think of something to say—what would the
old
Em have said?—she watched Gabby’s eyes drift over to the same table, the football table, and linger there for a second before snapping back to attention. Em knew she was probably thinking of Zach, who used to preside over that zone—over all the athletes in the school, in fact. Zach had gone off to boarding school last month, supposedly. But then last week Andy Barton had told them that he’d heard Zach had been involved in a nasty accident
and was in some fancy physical therapy facility in Florida. Now there were rumors that he’d never be able to play sports again.

Em wondered whether Gabby felt bad for Zach . . . or if she felt the same sense of relief that he was
gone
, that his presence wasn’t a constant reminder of how easy it was to make mistakes.

She watched as Pierce Travers, a sophomore and Zach’s likely replacement as quarterback, caught Gabby’s eye and smiled. He really was adorable. For a moment Em found herself back in social butterfly mode, hopeful that something might happen between Pierce and Gabby. At least that would prove that Gabby was really over that asshole. That Em hadn’t broken up Ascension’s best It Couple or something.

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Em admitted. But she knew she had to do better than that. Post-dance parties were a big deal. “Will Ian’s parents be out of town? They’re always away, right?”

“I heard that they’re going to be around,” Lauren said.

“Plus we were just there last weekend,” Gabby said. “I mean, I love Ian’s house, but I’d also love a change of venue.” She paused. “What about your new goth friends, Em? Do they ever have parties?”

She didn’t say it meanly, but Gabby’s message was clear: She’d noticed who Em had been spending more time with, and she didn’t like it.

Em didn’t have time to think of a response. Just then the whole
table of girls was distracted by a french fry hitting their table, followed by some general hubbub. The boys had gotten into a shoving match and french fries were being used as weapons. For the second time in one lunch period Em was glad she and her friends sat on the other side of the cafeteria from the Sports Section.

They watched as the boys got rowdier.

“Can you believe we’re the same age as those primitives?” Fiona asked.

They watched as a short, cute girl with dirty-blond hair—someone Em had never seen before—got blasted with a tray of spaghetti. They cringed, issuing a chorus of sympathy: “Ooooooh. Oh no!”

Em ducked her head. She hated watching other people get embarrassed. It was almost worse than being humiliated herself.

“Oh god, I know that girl,” Gabby said, wincing. “She’s new—I helped her find her bio class today. . . . I wonder—should I go, like, help her?”

Lauren pointed. “I think she’s okay. Pierce gave her his sweatshirt!” They watched the new girl make a mad dash from the cafeteria.

“What a terrible way to start at a new school,” Gabby said, turning back to the table.

“Hey, Laur, you want the rest of this?” Em shoved her tray toward Lauren, who could never turn down pizza—it was one of their shared vices. “I guess I’m not too hungry today.”

“You should eat, Em. You’re looking borderline rexy,” Gabby said, grabbing Em’s arm and holding it up as evidence. “Not to mention you’re an icicle. Are you getting sick? Do you want to borrow my sweater?”

You’re an icicle.
The expression called to mind the dagger-sharp icicles that pitched down around her last night as though they’d been aimed by dark angels.

Just as she was about to make some snarky retort, she looked out the cafeteria window and saw JD and his friend Ned jogging across the parking lot, ducking their heads against the cold air. They were probably going to get a burrito from Chalupa’s, where they went at least weekly to gorge on guacamole and talk computer programming. He told her once,
It’s safer to talk about computer programming around people who don’t speak English than around Ascension jocks.

Her heart ached as last night’s interaction with JD came rushing back. Like their shredded childhood flag, the past was slashed. Destroyed. And there was no way for Em to piece it back together. In fact, there was a chance that last night she’d made things even worse.

“Um, Em? Earth to Em?” Fiona was snapping her fingers lightly in front of Em’s face. “Are you even listening to me? I’m asking what you think about Mr. Landon. Do you think he’s coming back?”

“Yeah, I’d think you of all people would be interested in the
disappearance of Ascension’s hottest book-nerd teacher,” Lauren said. “Didn’t you have him this year?”

Em looked at them blankly for a second before nodding vaguely. “Yeah . . . the sub is meh. I’m bummed. I was looking forward to Mr. Landon’s reading list this semester.”

She couldn’t think of much more to say. Honestly? She was thinking about those icicles and what it would feel like to have one stabbed into her heart.

Skylar was still glowing when she arrived at school the next morning. Her hair was pinned back from her face, and she knew her green sweater made her hazel eyes shine. Pierce’s sweatshirt was tucked in her messenger bag and still warm from the dryer—she’d slept in it, savoring his boyish scent—and gotten up early this morning to wash it. Right before shoving it in her bag, she’d spritzed it with a tiny bit of her perfume. Maybe when he wore it he’d think of her.

She saw him just before homeroom, standing near a bay of lockers with a group of his teammates. She had about four minutes before the bell rang. Should she go up to him and return the sweatshirt right there, in front of everyone? Should she call him aside? Should she wait until math class—which they had together next period—and put the sweatshirt on his desk then?
Why didn’t she know how to do this stuff? And how come so many other people did?
Come on, Skylar. Be who you want to be.

She took a deep breath and looked around to make sure no one was watching her, then she started to approach him. But just as she was about to say his name, she heard it come from someone else’s mouth. She recognized the sweet, high voice from the day before. Gabby.

“Pierce!” Gabby called from down the hall. “Come here for a second!”

Skylar watched Pierce wheel around and jog right over to Gabby, who stood with a bunch of girls by the water fountain. Gabby casually slung her arm through Pierce’s like it was nothing. Like she was in charge. They walked off together, Pierce towering over Gabby despite her wedge-heeled riding boots. Skylar wondered what they were talking about. She wondered if she’d ever be that comfortable around a guy.

By the time Pierce got to geometry (he must have walked Gabby to class, Skylar realized with dismay), there was no time for a flirtatious exchange. He slipped into the seat next to her just as Ms. Abrams was starting class.

“Here’s your sweatshirt,” she whispered, pulling it from her bag. “Thanks.”

Pierce looked up with clear blue eyes and grinned. She felt that giddiness again. He was so cute—like army cute. Like southern cute, almost.

“Oh, hey, no problem,” he said, taking the sweatshirt from her. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”

“Well, here it is,” she said, dumbly repeating herself.

He balled it up to put it in his bag, and as he did he took an exaggerated sniff. “This doesn’t smell half as bad as it did when I gave it to you,” he said. “Maybe I should lend you more of my clothes.”

He noticed! Skylar smiled shyly and tried to think of something funny to say back. But then Ms. Abrams trumpeted, “Let’s get started, people,” and Pierce was digging in his bag for a pencil. So that was it. Opportunity officially missed.

•  •  •

She watched him jet out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang, and then realized, with a sinking feeling, that she had nothing else to look forward to that day. There was no one else she was interested in running into—in fact, she hoped to avoid anyone who might have seen her at lunch yesterday, pitiful and pathetic in her marinara-drenched shirt. When lunchtime rolled around, she took her PB&J and started walking up the hill off campus. She couldn’t face more probing stares, or even the minor discomfort of sitting alone in the cafeteria. She thought she’d seen a little row of stores right around the corner from the school. Maybe she could hide out in one of them.

She trudged up the hill away from Ascension High, burying her face in her scarf to keep it from getting whipped by the wind
and replaying her conversation with Pierce. He’d definitely been friendly, and there had been an undertone of flirtation. Right? She just didn’t know how to follow through. Lucy would have known. Gabby probably knew. She sighed deeply, filling the scarf with hot, damp air.

As she rounded the corner she surveyed her hideout options: a Mexican place, a dry cleaner, a deli, and, right in front of her, an ice cream shop. She certainly didn’t need the calories in a burrito—especially when she had already packed a sandwich—and she couldn’t exactly ask to eat her lunch in the dry cleaner. Maybe she could just go into the deli and buy something to drink?

“Don’t even think about it,” a girl said. “If you’re considering stepping foot in Chalupa’s.”

Skylar turned to see a beautiful girl, just taller than she was, standing in the doorway of Get the Scoop, the ice cream parlor. Her face was angular and pretty, in a pixie-ish way. Her wheat-colored hair was parted in the middle, long and choppy around the sides. Around her neck was a bright red ribbon, worn as a choker. She looked kind of like an elf. A beautiful elf. And she was smiling at Skylar.

“I’m—I’m sorry?” Skylar was startled; she hadn’t seen the girl emerge from the shop.

“The Mexican place. I saw you eyeing it. The food at that place is like Styrofoam. Deep-fried Styrofoam, of course.” The girl fake-shuddered. “Don’t tell me you actually
like
it.”

“I’ve never been,” Skylar said. “I’m new here. I was just . . . I was just looking for somewhere to eat my lunch.” Feeling beyond pathetic, she held up her brown bag.

“Oh. Totally excusable, then,” the girl said brightly. Skylar was grateful she didn’t ask why Skylar was eating alone, or whether she should be in school. “I was worried about you for a second there.” She wiped her hands on the orange apron she was wearing and offered Skylar a beaming smile. “My name’s Meg.”

“I’m Skylar. Thanks for the warning about the Mexican food. I haven’t really gotten much of a tour yet.” Skylar thought she saw a flash of sympathy run through Meg’s eyes.

“Listen.” Meg leaned forward as though she was about to tell Skylar a secret. “My boss is out to lunch. Want to come in for a free ice cream? I can give you the lowdown on other establishments to avoid. Trust me—there are plenty.”

It was a bit cold for ice cream, and she hadn’t even eaten her sandwich, but Skylar couldn’t turn down the chance to have a maybe-normal chat with a girl who seemed to be close to her own age. For a moment Skylar wondered why this girl wasn’t in school. But then, who cared? If she wanted to make friends, she had to start actually
talking
to people. And maybe this girl was a freshman in college or something.

“I—I have to be back in twenty minutes, but I guess I could come in for a little,” Skylar said, glancing at the silver face of her watch. It was delicate, but it always felt abnormally heavy
on her wrist. She remembered receiving it for Christmas several years ago. Her mom had won two hundred dollars from a scratch ticket and used it to buy their presents. It was the one time her mom had ever purchased the same thing for both her daughters. She wondered where Lucy’s was now.

“Nice watch,” Meg said, and when Skylar noticed her staring at it intensely, she quickly tucked it under the cuff of her jacket.

“Thanks,” she said. “It was a gift. From—from an ex.” She blurted out the lie without intending to. But almost immediately she felt better. She relished the way the word “ex” hung in the air, propping her up, giving her confidence.

“Aw. That’s nice that you still wear it,” Meg said. “So, wanna come in? I know it’s not really ice cream weather, but we’ve got good stuff.”

Meg headed into the store, and Skylar followed her in. Maybe working in the freezer bins had desensitized Meg to the cold: Skylar noticed that Meg wore just a T-shirt, jeans, the orange apron, and the red ribbon tied around her neck. Skylar was shivering even in her coat and scarf.

“So,” Meg said, surveying the bins of ice cream and adopting an exaggeratedly pensive expression. “Don’t tell me, let me guess.” She gave Skylar a once-over, then bent down and started scooping a flavor into a bowl, smiling mischievously over the counter at Skylar. Her eyes were blue-gray—like sparkling smoke.

“Here you go,” Meg said, putting the bowl in front of
Skylar with a flourish of her hands. “Our best vanilla bean.”

She was right. Vanilla, for all its lack of originality, actually
was
Skylar’s favorite. She felt a surge of happiness. This mystery girl
got
her.

But as she was about to reach for it, she suddenly had the weird feeling that something—some
one
—was standing over her. And then she had a vision of Lucy, there next to her. Freezing breath on her cheek.
Are you sure that’s what you want to be eating, Sky?
she heard her sister saying.
Baby fat is only cute when you’re a baby.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to block out Lucy’s voice.

“Was I wrong? It’s not your favorite?” Meg’s face fell. She sounded genuinely disappointed.

“No, no! It is. I just—I got distracted for a second.” Skylar found herself strangely compelled to please Meg. “Do you think I could have some water?” As Meg turned to fill up a glass, Skylar looked behind her, over both shoulders. Of course no one was there.

She picked up a spoon and reminded herself that a few spoonfuls couldn’t hurt. “How did you know? Do I just read vanilla?”