She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (14 page)

Her last months…

On the train, I can’t help but think about Juliet. Ben will find her today. She’ll finally get what she’s wanted for so long. She’ll have her breath back. I tell myself it’s better so I can focus on Gram, but deep inside of me, in those places I’m scared to visit, I know it’s a lie.

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I think it’s Juliet. When I see it’s Sara, my stomach churns.
The Universe must enjoy fucking with me.

Chapter Thirteen

Juliet

Pooja returns early Sunday morning in sweats and a messy ponytail but manages to look beautiful nonetheless. She plops onto her bed and settles under her comforter while I fill her in on the events of last night. Restless, I check out her closet. “I don’t understand why the guys I like only want to be friends.”

I pull out a short, floral pattern skirt. “Too flowery,” she says, and I hang it back up. “You’re not making sense, Juliet.”

Next, I grab a purple scarf off a hanger and wrap it around my neck. “What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted Ben. Which one do you want?” Pooja asks like the answer is simple.

“I’m here because of Ben, Pooj.”
Totally truthful.

“That doesn’t answer the question either.”
Evil, mystical witch woman.

“I want them both.”
Still truthful.

“You can’t have them both.”

“I know,” I bark, smirking and shaking my head. I pull the ends of the scarf upward and pretend to hang myself. Pooja shuts her eyes. Her expression softens and her lips part as she starts to fall asleep. “Pooja?” I whisper.

“Hmm.” She doesn’t open her eyes.

“Did you sleep with Rocco last night?”

Her eyes open and look right at me. “Sure. Right after we had sex.”

“You don’t even know him!” She closes her eyes again but smiles. “I’m not judging. I’m sort of…”
What’s the right word?
“…fascinated.”

“It felt right and safe. I don’t need to know everything about him. Life is short, Juliet. Of all people in the world, you must know this from burying a sister so young.”

“But what about love?”

“Love may come. Or not. I take my chances.”

I think of Chase’s advice about giving my heart to someone besides Ben. “How do you take chances and not get hurt? Is it because of your gift?”

“Sometimes I get hurt.”

“Have you ever been wrong about anyone?” I fold the clothes I’d confiscated from her closet.

“Once.” She yawns.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Fine. But I’m not letting you go to sleep until you tell me every detail about Rocco. What’s it like to be with someone so massive?”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but first I have to sleep.”

I leave Pooja alone, fully intending to take her up on her promise later, and grab my backpack. Getting out of the basement is part of my Frank Plan, along with studying, dancing,. and meeting new people.
May as well start executing the plan.
After a quick stop for coffee, I head to the library.

The campus library isn’t exactly a hot spot on Sunday morning. I walk through the library’s creepy, quiet rooms and decide to sit in the area I imagine will have the most foot traffic so I can people watch. I join a handful of other early rising, conscientious students and set up camp at a large table with a long overhead lamp. I click on the light and spread my stuff out to claim the entire table, open my laptop, check my class syllabi, and write a to-do list.

As I settle in to study, my mind wanders to dance. I dig around my bag for earbuds and listen to the classical piece I’d danced to in class. Thinking about the dance studio makes me think about Chase.

I text him.

Call if you need me
.

Thinking of Chase makes me think of Ben. I text him, too.

At library
.

I open my economics professor’s website and attempt to read about supply and demand. Just as I’m about to put my head down and fall asleep in a cloud of boredom, a cute guy sits at the table next to mine. I smile when I catch his eye.

“Hey,” he whispers.

I wave and sit up straighter, reminded by Cute Guy’s toothy grin that there are plenty of fish in the sea. The basement of Sheridan Hall is not the entire world. I stretch and inhale, breathing in the air on the outside, away from basement drama. I’m about to move on to history when something huge plops down next to me.

Ben looks like he just rolled out of bed. I study him as he stares at me, his elbows on his knees, chin in his fists. “Good morning, Nerd Girl.”
Ah, Flirty Ben has arrived.

“Good morning to you, Slacker Boy.” I wish I could contain the giant grin that always spreads across my face whenever I’m in his presence, but I can’t. His baseball hat is on backwards, and his hair sticks out the bottom. His big brown eyes glimmer and dance.

“Wutcha doin’?” He shifts my laptop to face him.

I twist it back. “I’m studying. We’re at college, remember?”

“Studying is for chumps. Let’s go play,” he teases. I catch Cute Guy at the next table grimacing.

“No. And be quiet. There are people here trying to work.” I smile at Cute Guy.

Ben looks at my laptop. “History? Yuck. Let’s get coffee and play Frisbee.”

I squint at Ben and pick up my travel mug. “I have coffee.”

“Good. Then we can skip to Frisbee. That’s what you’re supposed to do at NJU. I read it in the brochure.”

“Did Megan already say no?” Sometimes I just can’t help being a bitch.

Ben slumps and raises his eyebrows. “Jules, I want to play with you, not Megan. I’m sorry about last week. Don’t you know by now that I’m an idiot? Now shut your laptop and let’s go. It will be like the library…but fun.”

When he puts it like that, how can I resist?

Chase

I walk into my apartment Sunday morning to the smell of waffles and eggs. In the kitchen, Gram doesn’t turn from the stove. “Chasey, if you say one word about this—”

I walk behind her and wrap her in my arms.

“I knew this would happen. I told Rob not to tell you. I don’t want you fawning over me. Why aren’t you at school? I see you more now than I did when you lived here.”

“Gram. Stop.” I hold her tightly, more for me than her. “I won’t fawn. I promise.” I kiss her cheek, and she smiles. The smell of her perfume hits me like a brick. When I was little, I would crawl into her lap and that scent would calm me. “Do you feel all right?”

“I feel fine. I can’t even believe anything’s wrong.”

She’s lying and thinks I can’t tell. I give her the win and pretend to believe her. “Well, you look fantastic. Hottest Gram around.”

She shakes her head and playfully shoves me. “Now get off of me so I can cook. Your uncle should be out in a minute.”

“Great,” I mutter.

She puts bread into the toaster and reaches for the plates. I grab them for her. “You’re going to have to learn to like him.” She hands me silverware and tips her chin toward the table.

I start to set the table, and she holds out more dinnerware. “Why? I don’t even want him here.”

Just as I say it, Rob walks into the room. “Morning to you, too. What are you doing here?”

“I
live
here.” I use my Old Chase, snotty-kid voice, but resist the urge to add “asshole” to the end of the sentence. I see that as an improvement.

“Chase!” Gram scolds. She hands me a plate of waffles. Historically, her breakfasts always cured my Sunday morning hangovers.

We eat in silence. Gram moves her food around the plate. She doesn’t seem to want to talk, and I can’t talk to Rob about her with her sitting right there. The verbal diarrhea demon inside of me takes over and I blurt out, “Guess what?” I pause for effect and they both stop eating and look to me. “Sara emailed me.”

Gram throws her fork onto her plate and the clank makes me flinch. “That’s more upsetting than anything else I’ve heard this week.”

“Who’s Sara?” Rob asks.

“My ex-girlfriend. She said she had to talk to me.”

“She should talk to someone—a therapist, maybe—and leave you alone.” Gram picks up her fork and points it at me. “If you let her touch one hair on your head, I swear I’ll beat you! I don’t care if I go to jail for it. I’ll kick your butt.”

“Gloria, she can’t be that bad.”
Rob? Defending me?

“Not that bad? She still owes me bail money.”

“Bail?” Rob raises his eyebrows and looks at me.

Ah, the memories
. “Gram was gracious enough to bail us out of jail earlier this year. Ancient history.”

“That girl has caused me more stress than I know what to do with. I thought it was over with you two. Helen said it was over.” Helen, Sara’s grandmother, was Gram’s best friend until Sara and I made a mess of everything.

Rob throws down his fork. “Why did you even bring this up, Chase? You know she’s sick.” He points at Gram.

“Because we talk about things, Rob. She said she didn’t want me to treat her differently. Just because you don’t have family to talk to—”

“We’re his family, Chase Edward.” I cringe when she uses my middle name. “I’m glad he told me, Robert. With Sara, it’s better to know.” She turns back to me. “Do you know what she wants?”

“Nope.”

We eat the rest of the meal in silence. I clean the kitchen while Rob and Gram disappear to get ready for their day. Later, I walk them downstairs to the gallery and check out the new art. Gram always pushes me to hang my work in the gallery, but I never do. I want to show my work in a gallery I don’t partially own. I try not to think about the fact that Gram won’t be around to see my first show. I linger  until things start to get busy, then kiss Gram goodbye and tell her I’ll call her later.

Outside, it’s humid. I struggle to breathe as the sun beats down. I instinctively look at the ballet studio and think of Juliet. I miss her already but remind myself that I’ll see her back at the dorm. Knowing I’ll still get to be around her makes the thought of her dating Ben tolerable.
Sort of.

I walk to the art store a few blocks away and buy pencils and a sketchpad, then find a bench at the small park near my house. I let my hands do the thinking and watch the sketch unfold on my lap. Juliet, as she looked in bed earlier, appears before me.
How will I ever get her out of my mind?

I sketch a few more pages until a pair of black boots stop in front of me. My eyes trail up a pair of skinny jeans and a tight, black tee shirt to pale skin and red lips. Her familiar face soothes me, but her new hair color surprises me. “You changed your hair.”

“I got tired of being blonde. Thought I’d try red.” She almost looks like a normal chick when she smiles. “Hey, Coop.”

As crazy as she is and as wrong as I know it to be, I have to smile back. “Hi, Sara.”

I stand, and we walk together, in sync, in no direction in particular. She asks to see my sketchpad but I don’t let her. I don’t want to talk about Juliet. Memory Lane isn’t my favorite place, and I want to get the ball rolling. “You disappeared. I tried calling you.”

She looks up at me. “I got your messages. I’m back now. I hear you’re a fancy college kid.”

“I guess. What are you up to these days?”

“Oh, this and that.” It’s a Helen phrase. We have an arsenal of Helen/Gloria phrases. “Trying to get my life in order.”

“I guess we have that in common.” I lead her to a storefront window. “You needed to tell me something?”
Roll, ball, roll
.

I look into her eyes, sinking in their blueness, seeing a depth of history only she and I share. We’ve known each other our whole lives, since our grandmothers brought us to the park together when we were babies. There’s something settling about knowing a person as well as I know Sara, but there’s also something dangerous about it, like a power I can’t control. I could get sucked into her vortex and release those past addictions knocking at my door.

Sara looks down at her feet. “Okay, well, I’m in therapy.”
Gram will be happy to hear that.
“I’ve been working hard at trying to grow up. Now I see things differently—the things we went through.”

I hate thinking about “the things we went through,” as Sara calls it. That day in the clinic turned into the worst day of my life, until yesterday when Rob told me Gram’s prognosis.

Sara continues, “I thought I wanted to forget it all, especially you. But I don’t want to do that. I want to remember, but in a healthy way. You know?”

I nod. “That’s good, Sara.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, Coop. I was such a nightmare during that time, and I treated you so like shit. I forgot you had feelings, too. I was so selfish.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it. Really, I am.” I’m not. I probably never will be. But I don’t want Sara to suffer. If all I can give her is my words, then I will.

“I was scared. I didn’t think we could do it. I know you thought we could. You had faith in us.”

“I don’t regret it. We did the right thing.” I pull her into a hug and stroke her new red hair. “We can’t go back and change it anyway.”

Ironically, these are the same words I’d used to try to stop her from going to the clinic that day. I had grabbed the hood of her coat and jerked her back as she ran toward the doors.
If you do this,
I yelled outside the clinic,
you can’t go back and change it! You’ll have to live with it forever!