Hung Up (18 page)

Lucy:
When I ran, I wanted to be the fastest. The best. The person that stunned everybody because I had this incredible, never-ending speed. But the way I got that speed was by imagining horrible things.

James:
Like you were being chased?

Lucy:
Exactly. I pictured myself being chased by a man. He didn’t have a face. He was sort of like a shadow. I used to pretend that this was the person who took Kathryn. And he was after me. I know this sounds stupid. But the fear knocked all sorts of things loose inside of me. And when I did this, when I imagined this man, my adrenaline rushed through me and I always won every race.

James:
Did this feel good or bad?

Lucy:
It felt good at first, but then it quickly turned into a bad feeling. I hated to think that I was using Kathryn and this thing that had happened to her to gain some sort of attention. I was really disappointed in myself. I felt ashamed.

James:
Could you run without imagining this man?

Lucy:
Yes, but when I did that, I never won.

James:
How does Greg Tandy factor into this equation?

Lucy:
Well, for a long time, I never told anybody about this. Because I was ashamed. When I finally told Greg, he seemed to think it was a good strategy. And the few times I lost, when I didn’t imagine myself being chased, he got really angry with me. He’d say things like “You’re throwing away your advantage.” And “It gives you an edge; you’d be stupid not to use it.”

James:
What an asshole.

Lucy:
He loves winning. He’s addicted to it. You saw
how he played basketball. Losing wasn’t an option. Well, one day I realized that running track made me miserable. It just hit me. And I decided to quit. Greg was furious. He told me that I was a coward. And that made me totally flip. I couldn’t believe he’d said that to me. So I slapped him. I know. I shouldn’t have done that. But it was like a reflex. What he said hurt me so deeply that some sort of self-defense mechanism kicked in and I clapped my hand right across his cheek.

James:
Good for you.

Lucy:
No. I shouldn’t have slapped him. Hitting other people isn’t the way to solve your problems.

James:
It seems to have solved this one.

Lucy:
Well, it sort of did. Because he broke up with me. Right there. His cheek started glowing pink and he touched it in disbelief. And he said, “I can’t believe a girl just hit me.” And I said, “That wasn’t a hit. It was a slap.” And he said, “I’m out of here, Lucy. You’ve got serious emotional problems.” And I thought about yelling, “I’m sorry.” But I didn’t. I watched him go. And I felt completely miserable for about a week. And sort of
miserable for a month. But then I started feeling less and less miserable about it. And now I don’t miss him at all.

James:
That’s good. He’s a jerk.

Lucy:
I guess. I don’t even care. He is what he is. And he’s not a part of my life anymore.

James:
So, do you miss running at all? Would you ever want to go jogging?

Lucy:
I’d love to go jogging with the right partner.

James:
Do you want to go jogging tomorrow after school? It’s supposed to be a sunny day. I checked NOAA.

Lucy:
I thought we were waiting for Paris’s eggs to hatch before we met.

James:
Lucy, waiting is stupid.

Lucy:
Yeah. I agree. So, um, do you want to meet tomorrow?

James:
I do.

Lucy:
But what if it changes things?

James:
Stop saying that. You’re not a tortoise anymore, remember?

Lucy:
But what if, James, what if?

James:
I won’t let anything change. Lucy, you’re one of my best friends. You’ve really helped me with Bo. And my feelings. We’re only going to become better friends.

Lucy:
That was a sweet thing to say.

James:
Well, I’m a sweet guy. You said so yourself.

Lucy:
What time tomorrow?

James:
What are you doing at four o’clock?

Lucy:
I think I’m meeting James Rusher.

James:
Cool.

Lucy:
This is so freaky.

James:
It’s not freaky.

Lucy:
It’s something.

James:
It’s all good.

May 23, 6:19 a.m.

James:
I was wondering if I should bring anything today. For you or for Paris. Or maybe even CeCe or Santiago. It seems like one parakeet is completely overshadowing the other. That can’t be good for a keet’s self-esteem.

May 23, 6:34 a.m.

Lucy:
You need to get a waterproof phone, so I can call you when you’re in the shower. Because that seems to be the place I miss you most. Okay. It’s thoughtful of you to want to bring something. I know we talked about giving each other surprises, but you don’t need to do that. Seriously. You only need to bring yourself.

May 23, 7:00 a.m.

James:
You are the first girl who ever said that she
missed me when I was in the shower. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. I wonder if you jog half as good as you flirt.

May 23, 3:38 p.m.

Lucy:
Come now! Come now! The eggs are hatching.

James:
I’m almost to your house.

Lucy:
Wow. You’re early.

James:
Only by, like, ten minutes.

Lucy:
So you’re telling me that you’re ten minutes away?

James:
You’re quick.

Lucy:
Don’t tease me. I’m feeling way too fragile for that.

James:
What’s wrong?

Lucy:
I’m nervous.

James:
About Paris?

Lucy:
About you!

James:
There’s no reason to be nervous about me. We’ve covered this already. I’m totally great. You’ve got a long list to back it up.

Lucy:
I know. It’s just. Oh my god. We’re going to meet.

James:
That’s a good thing.

Lucy:
Yeah. Yeah.

James:
Hey, I think I see your house.

Lucy:
You do? That didn’t take ten minutes. Are you sure you see
my
house?

James:
Well, I’m in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t seen a landmark or sign of civilization for miles. The house I’m looking at is the fourth one on the left and it’s blue. And also shaped like a triangle.

Lucy:
Are you driving a green car?

James:
Yep.

Lucy:
I can see you, too!

James:
Wow. Your house is big.

Lucy:
James, before we meet, I need to tell you something.

James:
You’ve got something else to tell me?

Lucy:
It’s about my hair.

James:
Are you really a baldy?

Lucy:
No. Nothing that dramatic.

James:
That’s a relief.

Lucy:
I dye my hair.

James:
What color? Green?

Lucy:
Red. But my natural color is brown.

James:
I don’t care what color your hair is.

Lucy:
I bet you would if it really was green.

James:
Your car must be an all-wheel drive. I mean, your driveway has a steep grade.

Lucy:
I told you. I live on a hill.

James:
I see that. Hey, is that your dogwood?

Lucy:
Yes, that’s it. Oh my god. You’re parking!

James:
Yes. It’s something I often do after I arrive somewhere by car.

Lucy:
You’re getting out of your car. You’ve got a bag. Did you bring something for Paris?

James:
No, they’re churros. For you. Where are you?

Lucy:
Up here. In my window. Hey, where are you going?

James:
I’m taking a look at your tree. It’s growing buds. It’ll probably blossom in a few weeks.

Lucy:
The plaque arrived today. Crazy timing, right?

James:
That’s amazing.

Lucy:
Do you see a good place where I should attach it? Maybe the south side of the base? Or maybe the west side? It’s sunnier.

James:
I didn’t drive all the way down to East Montpelier with a sack of churros to inspect the shade of your dogwood.

Lucy:
Yeah. You’re right. I’ll figure it out.

James:
Do you want me to ring the doorbell? Or are you going to come down?

Lucy:
Why don’t you come to my window? I can’t totally see you yet.

James:
Maybe it’s because you’re two stories above me.

Lucy:
Oh, I can see you now. Oh my god. It’s you! It’s you! I can see your head. And your face. You’re exactly what I expected.

James:
Lucy, why are we still talking on the phone?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am deeply indebted to my agent, Sara Crowe, who once again found the perfect home for my story. Thanks to Anica Rissi for her expert advice and invaluable encouragement. And many thanks to Liesa Abrams for sweating all the details and shepherding this book into the world. Thank you, Bethany Buck, for all your kindness and support for this book and beyond. You’ve been there since
Lost It
, and that’s a long time. I am very grateful for the entire team at Simon & Schuster for making my books be their very best. And special thanks to Stuart Dybek for telling stories that stick. Last of all thank you, Max, for contributing to this process by drooling on the keyboard, and to Brian, for mopping it up.

KRISTEN TRACY
is the author of
Lost It, Crimes of the Sarahs
, and several other novels. She lives in Rhode Island.

Simon Pulse

SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK

authors.simonandschuster.com/Kristen-Tracy

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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