Perfect (25 page)

“You and your signs,” Maya sighed. They were comfortably quiet for a second.

“I was furious at you,” Maya said softly. “Breaking up with me in the kiln like that. Refusing to even look at me in the greenhouse.”

Emily squeezed her hand and stared at the constellations. A tiny jet streaked past, a thousand feet up. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I haven’t exactly been fair.”

Now Maya eyed Emily carefully. Glittery bronzer illuminated her forehead, cheeks, and nose. She looked more beautiful than Emily had ever seen her. “Can I hold your hand?” she whispered.

Emily gazed at her own rough, square hand. It had held pencils and paintbrushes and pieces of chalk. Gripped the starting blocks before a swimming race. Clutched a balloon on the swim team’s homecoming float last year. It had held her boyfriend Ben’s hand…and it had even held Maya’s, but it seemed like this time it was more official. It was real.

She knew there were people around. But Maya was right—everyone already knew. The hard part was over, and she’d survived. She’d been miserable with Ben, and she hadn’t been kidding anybody with Toby. Maybe she should be out there with this. As soon as Becka had said it, Emily knew she was right: she
couldn’t
change who she was. The idea was terrifying but thrilling.

Emily touched Maya’s hand. First lightly, then harder. “I love you, Em,” Maya said, squeezing back. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Emily repeated, almost automatically. And she realized—she did. More than anyone else, more than Ali, even. Emily had kissed Ali, and for a split second, Ali had kissed her back. But then Ali had pulled back, disgusted. She’d quickly started talking about some boy she was really into, a boy whose name she wouldn’t tell Emily because Emily might “really freak.” Now Emily wondered if there even
had
been a boy, or if Ali had said it to undo the tiny moment when she had kissed Emily for real. To say,
I’m not a lesbo. No frickin’ way.

All this time, Emily had fantasized about what things would have been like if Ali hadn’t disappeared, and if that summer and their friendship had proceeded as planned. Now she knew: it wouldn’t have gone on. If Ali hadn’t disappeared, she would have drifted farther and farther away from Emily. But maybe Emily would still have found her way to Maya.

“You okay?” Maya asked, noting Emily’s silence.

“Yeah.” They sat quietly for a few minutes, holding hands. Then Maya lifted her head, frowning at something inside the planetarium. Emily followed her eyes to a shadowy figure, staring straight at them. The figure knocked on the glass, making Emily jump.

“Who is that?” Emily murmured.

“Whoever it is,” Maya said, squinting, “they’re coming outside.”

Every hair on Emily’s body stood up.
A?
She scooted backward. Then she heard an all-too-familiar voice. “Emily Catherine Fields! Get over here!”

Maya’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God.”

Emily’s mother stepped under the courtyard spotlights. Her hair was uncombed, she wore no makeup, she had on a ratty T-shirt, and her sneaker lace was untied. She looked ridiculous among the throng of done-up partygoers. A few kids gaped at her.

Emily clumsily struggled off the grass. “W-what are you doing here?”

Mrs. Fields grabbed Emily’s arm. “I
cannot
believe you. I get a call fifteen minutes ago saying you’re with
her
. And I don’t believe them! Silly me! I don’t believe them! I say they’re lying!”

“Mom, I can explain!”

Mrs. Fields paused and sniffed the air around Emily’s face. Her eyes widened. “You’ve been drinking!” she screamed, enraged. “What has
happened
to you, Emily?” She glanced down at Maya, who was sitting very still on the grass, as if Mrs. Fields had put her in suspended animation. “You’re
not
my daughter anymore.”

“Mom!” Emily screamed. It felt like her mother had thrust a curling iron into her eye. That statement sounded so…legal and binding. So final.

Mrs. Fields dragged her to the little gate that led from the courtyard to a back alley that led to the street. “I’m calling Helene when we get home.”

“No!” Emily broke free, then faced her mother halfway hunched over, the way a sumo wrestler squares off when he’s about to fight. “How can you say I’m not your daughter?” she screeched. “How can you send me away?”

Mrs. Fields reached for Emily’s arm again, but Emily’s sneakers caught on an uneven divot in the grass. She fell backward, hitting the ground on her tailbone, experiencing a white, blinding flash of pain.

When she opened her eyes, her mother was above her. “Get up. Let’s go.”

“No!” Emily bellowed. She tried to get up, but her mother’s nails pierced her arm. Emily struggled but knew it was hopeless. She glanced once more at Maya, who still hadn’t moved. Maya’s eyes were huge and watery, and she looked tiny and alone.
I might never see her again
, Emily thought.
This might be it.

“What’s so wrong with it?” she screamed at her mother. “What’s so wrong with being different? How can you
hate
me for that?”

Her mother’s nostrils flared. She balled up her fists and opened her mouth, ready to scream something back. And then, suddenly, she seemed to deflate. She turned away and made a small noise at the back of her throat. All at once, she looked so spent. And scared. And ashamed. Without any makeup on and in her pajamas, she seemed vulnerable. There was a redness around her eyes, as if she had been crying for a long time. “Please. Let’s just go.”

Emily didn’t know what else to do but get up. She followed her mother down the dark, deserted alley and into a parking lot, where Emily saw their familiar Volvo. The parking lot attendant met her mother’s eyes and gave Emily a judging sneer, as if Mrs. Fields had explained why she was parking here and retrieving Emily from the party.

Emily threw herself in the front seat. Her eyes landed on the Dial-a-Horoscope laminated wheel that was in the car’s seat pocket. The wheel foretold every sign’s horoscopes for all the twelve months of this year, so Emily pulled it out, spun the wheel to Taurus, her sign, and looked at October’s predictions.
Your love relationships will become more fulfilling and satisfying. Your relationships may have caused difficulties with others in the past, but all will be smooth sailing from now on.

Ha,
Emily thought. She hurled the horoscope card out the window. She didn’t believe in horoscopes anymore. Or tarot cards. Or signs or signals or anything else that said things happened for a reason. What was the reason
this
was happening?

A chill went through her.
I get a call fifteen minutes ago saying you’re with her.

She dug through her bag, her heart pounding. Her phone had one new message. It had been in her inbox for nearly two hours.

Em, I see you! And if you don’t stop it, I’m calling you-know-who.

—A

Emily put her hands over her eyes. Why didn’t A just kill her instead?

33

SOMEONE SLIPS UP. BIG TIME.

First, Lucas gave Hanna a shrunken Rosewood Day sweatshirt and a pair of red gym shorts from his car. “An Eagle Scout is always prepared for anything,” he proclaimed.

Second, he led Hanna to the Hollis College Reading Room so she could change. It was a few streets over from the planetarium. The reading room was simply that—a big room in a nineteenth-century house completely devoted to chilling out and reading. It smelled like pipe smoke and old leather bookbindings and was filled with all sorts of books, maps, globes, encyclopedias, magazines, newspapers, chessboards, leather couches, and cozy love seats for two. Technically, it was only open to college students and faculty, but it was easy enough to jimmy your way in the side door.

Hanna went into the tiny bathroom, removed her ripped dress, and threw it into the little chrome trash can, stuffing it in so it would fit. She slumped out of the bathroom, threw herself on the couch next to Lucas, and just…lost it. Sobs that had been pent up inside of her for weeks—maybe even years—exploded out of her. “No one will like me anymore,” she said chokingly, between sobs. “And I’ve lost Mona forever.”

Lucas rubbed her hair. “It’s all right. She doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

Hanna cried until her eyes swelled and her throat stung. Finally, she pressed her head into Lucas’s chest, which was more solid than it looked. They lay there in silence for a while. Lucas ran his fingers through her hair.

“What made you come to her party?” she asked after a while. “I thought you weren’t invited.”

“I was invited.” Lucas lowered his eyes. “But…I wasn’t going to go. I didn’t want you to feel bad, and I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Little sparkles of giddiness snapped through her stomach. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “Bagging our poker game at the last minute like that, for Mona’s stupid party.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Hanna stared at Lucas. He had such soft blue eyes and adorably pink cheeks. It
did
matter to her, a lot. She was so consumed with doing the perfect thing all the time—wearing the perfect outfit, picking out the perfect ringtone, keeping her body in perfect shape, having the perfect best friend and the perfect boyfriend—but what was all that perfection for? Maybe Lucas was perfect, just in a different way. He
cared
about her.

Hanna didn’t quite know how it had happened, but they’d settled in on one of the cracked-leather love seats, and she was on Lucas’s lap. Strangely, she didn’t feel self-conscious that she was breaking Lucas’s legs. Last summer, to prepare for her trip with Sean’s family to Cape Cod, Hanna had eaten nothing but grapefruit and cayenne pepper, and she hadn’t let Sean touch her when she was wearing her bathing suit, afraid he’d find her Jell-O-ish. With Lucas, she didn’t worry.

Her face moved closer to Lucas’s. His face moved closer to hers. She felt his lips touch her chin, then the side of her mouth, then her mouth itself. Her heart pounded. His lips whispered across hers. He pulled her toward him. Hanna’s heart was beating so fast and excitedly, she was afraid it would burst. Lucas cradled Hanna’s head in his hands and kissed her ears. Hanna giggled.

“What?” Lucas said, pulling away.

“Nothing,” Hanna answered, grinning. “I don’t know. This is fun.”

It
was
fun—nothing like the serious, important make-out sessions she’d had with Sean, where she felt like a panel of judges was scoring each and every kiss. Lucas was sloppy, wet, and overly joyful, like a boy Labrador. Every so often, he’d grab her and squeeze. At one point, he started tickling her, making Hanna squeal and roll off the couch right onto the floor.

Eventually, they were lying on one of the couches, Lucas on top of her, his hands drifting up and down her bare stomach. He took off his shirt and pressed his chest against hers. After a while, they stopped and lay there, saying nothing. Hanna’s eyes grazed across all the books, chess sets, and busts of famous authors. Then, suddenly, she sat up.

Someone was looking in the window.

“Lucas!” She pointed to a dark shape moving toward the side door.

“Don’t panic,” Lucas said, easing off the couch and creeping toward the window. The bushes shook. A lock began to turn. Hanna clamped down on Lucas’s arm.

A was here.

“Lucas…”

“Shhh.” Another click. Somewhere, a lock was turning. Someone was coming in. Lucas cocked his head to listen. Now there were footsteps coming from the back hall. Hanna took a step backward. The floor creaked. The footsteps came closer.

“Hello?” Lucas grabbed his shirt and pulled it on backward. “Who’s there?”

No one answered. There were more creaks. A shadow slithered across the wall.

Hanna looked around and grabbed the largest thing she could find—a
Farmer’s Almanac
from 1972. Suddenly, a light flicked on. Hanna screamed and raised the almanac over her head. Standing before them was an older man with a beard. He wore small, wire-framed glasses and a corduroy jacket and held his hands over his head in surrender.

“I’m with the history department!” the old man sputtered. “I couldn’t sleep. I came here to read….” He looked at Hanna strangely. Hanna realized the neck of Lucas’s sweatshirt was pulled to the side, exposing her bare shoulder.

Hanna’s heart started to slow down. She put the book back on the table. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought—”

“We’d better go anyway.” Lucas sidestepped the old man and pulled Hanna out the side door. When they were next to the house’s iron front gate, he burst into giggles.

“Did you see that guy’s face?” he hooted. “He was terrified!”

Hanna tried to laugh along, but she felt too shaken. “We should go,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to go home.”

Lucas walked Hanna to the valet at Mona’s party. She gave the valet the ticket for her Prius, and when he brought it back, she made Lucas look all through it to make sure no one was hiding in the backseat. When she was safely inside with the door locked, Lucas tapped his hand against the window and mouthed that he’d call her tomorrow. Hanna watched him walk away, feeling both excited and horribly distracted.

She started down the planetarium’s spiral drive. Every twenty feet or so was a banner advertising the new exhibit.

THE BIG BANG
, they all said. They showed a picture of the universe exploding.

When Hanna’s cell phone beeped, she jumped so violently, she nearly broke out of the seat belt. She pulled over into the bus lane and whipped her phone out of her bag with trembling fingers. She had a new text.