Wild Swans (18 page)

Gracie and I amuse ourselves by making up pretend vows for the couple getting married. “I promise to love you and honor you even if you—” I begin.

“Toot!” she says, and howls with laughter.

“I promise to love and honor you even if you—”

“Eat all the cookies!”

We go on like this for a while, until I see Abby and Ella approaching. Ella is riding their sister Vanessa's pink bike, which is tricked out with a pink basket and streamers.

“Sorry, sorry,” Abby says as she hops off her bike and puts down the kickstand. “Someone had to ride
this
bike and not her old one.”

“It's
beautiful
,” Gracie declares, running over to Ella. “Can I ride it?”

“Maybe after lunch,” I suggest.

Ella studies Grace. “I like your sunglasses.”

Gracie studies Ella back: her tangled shoulder-length red hair, freckles, yellow sundress, pink sneakers. “I like your sneakers.”

“Pink is my favorite color,” Ella says.

“Mine too,” Gracie says.

“You can ride my bike now if you want,” Ella decides, as though Gracie has passed a test of some kind.

“Can I, Ivy? Please?” Gracie asks.

“Go ahead. But stay away from that wedding.” Gracie hops on Ella's bike, and Ella hops on Gracie's, and they ride off, fast friends.

“She didn't even blink an eye at him.
Her
,” Abby says. “God, I feel so bad. I got so frustrated with Ella earlier. We were all ready to go and then she freaked out about her bike being a boy's bike because it's blue and has the Avengers on it. Like, why can't you just wear pants and ride that bike? I'm wearing pants! I like the Avengers! But it was so important to him.
Her.
Dammit! I keep doing that.”

“You're trying,” I say. “That's what's important.”

Abby is quiet for a minute. “Do you think she's weird?”

“Ella?” I ask, and she nods. I pause, trying to get the words right. “I really respect her. She's seven and she's insisting that people treat her the way she wants to be treated. That's incredibly brave. Braver than me. I'm always worried about what people think.”

“Me too,” Abby says. “People are going to judge her. Judge our whole family. I hate that.”

I lean over and give her a hug. “I'm sorry. I know it's hard. Has your dad come around?”

She shakes her head. “Things are pretty tense between him and Mom. He almost didn't let us come today with Ella wearing a dress and riding Vanessa's bike. But Mom said to go and get the spiders off it and she'd take care of Dad. Ty told me he agrees with Dad and can't believe we're letting Ella call the plays.”

Jesus. Trust Ty to have a sports metaphor for everything. He's not a bad guy, but he definitely has a limited imagination. I watch Ella and Gracie for a minute. “Look at her,” I say. “She's so happy. Think of how she was last year when your parents cut her hair and tried to make her dress like a boy. Who cares what people think?”

Abby leans her head on my shoulder. “You're a good big sister, Ivy.”

I watch Gracie, but I'm remembering Iz's fury yesterday. “I'm trying.”

Dear Ms. Milbourn: We are pleased to accept your poem for publication in our August issue…

That's how my Monday starts off.

I let out a little “Eep!” and bounce on my bed. I did it! I'm going to have a poem published! Okay, it's just an online magazine, but it's a start. Everyone starts somewhere, right? I have to tell Granddad!

I rush downstairs, still in my pajamas. It's too early for Luisa to be here yet, but the scent of coffee wafts up the stairs. I burst into the kitchen. Granddad's already sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking from his banana-yellow
World's Best Grandpa
mug. I made it for him for Father's Day at the ceramics camp he made me take the summer I was Gracie's age. It's ugly as hell and the handle is misshapen, but he still uses it all the time.

“Guess what?” I demand.

He smiles at me absently over the paper. “Good morning, Ivy.”

“Good morning. Guess what! Guess, guess, guess!” I bounce on my toes.

“By the look on your face, something exciting,” he muses. “But I've only just started my coffee. You'll have to tell me.”

“Look!” I shove my phone at him, and he squints to read the screen. “I got a poem accepted! To be published online!”

He beams at me. “That's wonderful. I knew your persistence would pay off.”

My persistence. Not my talent.

I hold on to my delight with sticky fingers. “It'll be in their August issue. Look. Ms. Reeder—that's their editor—said the imagery in the last line is ‘sharp and evocative'!”

“Good imagery is important in poetry.” He takes another sip of coffee. “When do I get to read it?”

I hesitate. “When it's published?” I wonder if it's obvious that the poem is about me wanting to hold hands with Connor. Wanting to do more than hold hands. I blush, suddenly mortified at the thought of strangers reading it. Worse, of people I
know
reading it. Granddad. Amelia and the other English professors up at the college. Judy and Susan down at the Book Addict. Mrs. Summers… Oh Jesus. Granddad will share the link all over town. Knowing him, he'll print copies and hand them out. And everyone will think,
He's so proud of that girl
, but…

I only thought as far as getting an acceptance. My poems are a way to put all my scrambled-egg feelings down on paper. There's a reason I don't go letting everyone read them; they're private. I submitted this one on impulse, trying to prove a point. Now that I succeeded, what comes next? Granddad won't be content with one poem. One poem could be a fluke. Maybe
everybody
has one good poem in them.

But if I keep reading, keep writing, surely I'll improve. I just have to make time for it in between swimming and volunteering at the library and working on the Dorothea project and French homework and spending time with Connor and trying to be a good sister to Isobel and Grace and having fun with Claire and Abby and… I feel dazed thinking about it all. And that's before school even starts.

“We'll have to celebrate today and again in August when it's published,” Granddad says. “What do you think about banana chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast?”

That's my traditional birthday breakfast. Has been since I was little. I hear a door open upstairs and wonder fleetingly if Erica even knows what Gracie and Iz's favorite breakfasts are.

Granddad is staring at me expectantly.

“That sounds perfect. I can't wait to tell Luisa!” She'll be so excited. Iz sleeps late, but Gracie will be up soon and maybe the four of us can have pancakes together. I cross my fingers behind my back that Erica will sleep in and not ruin everything with her presence.

“Aren't you glad I kept at you to submit something?” Granddad asks.

“I am.” But I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Is my success about me or him?

“Why don't I ask Eleanor to take a look at a couple of your other poems? Give you some feedback?” he suggests. “If you revise with her help, I bet you'll have a better chance at getting more work accepted.”

Eleanor is another one of the professors up at the college; she teaches freshman comp, Poetry I and Poetry II, and a special topics class on poetry of the Harlem Renaissance that Connor is really excited to take this fall. She's the real deal, with a couple of chapbooks and poems published in various journals and magazines.

“Um, that's okay.”
More.
Already, he's thinking
more
and
next
. What have I gotten myself into?

“It wouldn't be any trouble. I'm sure she'd be happy to do it.” Granddad gets up to fetch himself another cup of coffee, and I slump in my seat like someone's let all the helium out of me. “I'll email her about it this afternoon and she—”

“I said
no
!”

Granddad startles and spills his coffee. “Ivy, there's no need to snap.”

I take a deep breath. “I'm sorry. Can we just take a minute and celebrate this? Please? I don't have any other poems that are ready to share.”

He frowns, sitting down and straightening his paper with a rustle. “I thought that was our agreement, honey, that you'd keep working on your poetry this summer and submit several poems.”

Several. Not just one. The chant begins in my head: not enough, not enough,
never
enough.

“That was our agreement
before
I took on the Dorothea project and that French class. Before I had two sisters to look after.”

“I do appreciate that you made time for Grace and Isobel this weekend,” Granddad says slowly. There's a
but
in his voice. He doesn't come right out with it, just leaves me with that inadequate feeling hanging over me like a thundercloud. He checks his watch. “You better get going or you're going to be late.”

“I thought maybe I'd skip the pool today so I can tell Luisa as soon as she gets here?” I hate that I phrase it like a question, like I'm asking for permission.

“Now, Ivy, don't go getting lazy on me,” he chides.

Lazy? Seriously?
“It's summer! I thought we were going to celebrate! One morning off won't kill me.”

“It might not kill you, but it won't help you get ahead of that girl from Salisbury either,” he says, and I guess there is some truth to that. “Go on, now. We'll have pancakes waiting when you get back.”

I could argue. Erica would.

Or flat-out refuse. Iz would.

But that's not me. Never has been.

• • •

I run into Charlotte Wu, Alex's Halloween party hookup and my swim teammate/rival, as I'm leaving the pool. We see each other here sometimes, me leaving the women's locker room as she arrives for the last hour of free swim. Usually she ignores me or gives me a halfhearted wave, but today she bounces right over. “Hey, Ivy! Did you have fun at the bonfire Friday night?”

I nod, mystified by her sudden friendliness. I don't even remember seeing her at the party, but I was pretty preoccupied. “Yeah, it was fun.” Not as much fun as if I hadn't had to leave early and cart Iz home. I'd envisioned the night ending with Connor walking me home and some seriously swoony good night kisses, not a lecture from Granddad and the sounds of my sister vomiting.

“Who was the guy you came with?” Charlotte asks.

Ah. She's not being friendly; she's being nosy. “My boyfriend.” I blush, testing out the word, still shiny-penny new. “Connor.”

She grins. “He's really cute. Is he a student here?”

I nod, pulling my bag out of my locker. “A sophomore.”

“Cool.” She fiddles with the strap on her blue swimsuit, pretending nonchalance. Badly. “So, you and Alex…?”

“Just friends. We were always just friends,” I tell her, and her resulting smile could power the whole swim center.

“Oh. I mean, I know he brought your sister to the party. Isobel, right? She seems really sweet,” Charlotte says, and I almost laugh because of all the ways I'd describe Iz, “sweet” is not among them. “Katie said that was just a favor though. Is he seeing anybody?”

“Not that I know of. We haven't been hanging out much lately.” Which is an understatement, but his request for space is none of Charlotte's business. How could I have missed her massive crush on Alex? It's not like she's trying real hard to hide it. Or maybe that's only now that she knows I'm not a rival for his affection.

“Oh. That's too bad.” She shifts from foot to foot. “I guess you're pretty busy with your new sisters. I mean, new to town. I mean…” She winces. “I was there the other day when your mom—? I can't believe she kept them away from you all this time. That sucks. My little sisters are a pain, but I don't know what I'd do without them.”

I nod. I've seen Charlotte's sisters in the stands, cheering her on at swim meets. Carrie is going be a freshman this year, and Charlotte said she might try out for our team. I wonder what clubs Iz would join, if she were staying long enough to start school in September. Would she try out for the fall play? Abby says they're doing
The Crucible
. Would Gracie and Iz come with Granddad to my swim meets and cheer for me?

Before Erica arrived—before I met Gracie and Iz—I thought them staying till September would be the worst. Now I'm starting to dread the day they leave. I'd even be willing to put up with Erica to keep my sisters in town. When did that change?

“Okay, well, I'd better get in there before free swim ends. See you!” Charlotte says, and I realize I've been quiet for a long time.

“See you,” I echo.

I walk back through campus slowly in the early-morning heat, keeping to the redbrick paths. The college was founded back in the 1780s—one of the first colleges in the new nation—and the buildings have mostly kept that redbrick-colonial feel. The sweet scent of freshly mown grass fills the air. A few groundskeepers are edging the sidewalks and mowing the lawn where the all-campus picnics are held. Besides the whine of the lawnmower and the buzz of the Weedwacker, it's quiet. No students rushing to the dining hall to grab breakfast or stumbling bleary-eyed to early-morning classes.

It's so pretty here. And so familiar. When I was little and Luisa was sick or on vacation, Granddad would tote me with him to his office. I grew up surrounded by his framed diplomas and shelves of leather-bound books, reading quietly in the corner while he had office hours. I'd come with him to pick up papers and play with the magnetic poetry on the secretary's filing cabinet. I ate hot dogs with Claire and the other faculty kids during reunion weekend picnics. The college is home as much as Cecil is. As much as Granddad and Alex and Luisa are.

I cross the street that separates campus from town and think back to Charlotte. I wonder how I'd feel about her and Alex dating. Just a few weeks ago, Alex having a girlfriend would have freaked me out. Would his girlfriend be jealous of me and all the time we spend together? Would he bail on our movie nights and family croquet games to go out with her instead?

Now I just miss my friend. The last week has been hard. Really hard. It would have been easier with Alex there, popping in and out of the kitchen to sneak peanut butter cookies from Gracie and me, staying for supper once or twice and making everybody laugh, lightening the ever-present tension.

He was there the night they arrived. Got to see firsthand how awful Erica was. He knows how much I need him right now.

The more I walk, the angrier I get.

Claire's right. I've needed Alex in the last week, and he ghosted on me. I understand that I hurt him—but he's the one who totally shut me out because I got a boyfriend, not the other way around. I never got mad when he kissed other girls!

When I get home, instead of making my way into the kitchen for my celebratory breakfast, I head to the carriage house instead. The small brick building is nestled between two shady old oak trees. The front door is open and I can hear Alex's music blaring, so I knock on the wooden part of the screen door. It feels strange not to call out and go right in. When I was little, I was in and out of this house as much as Alex was in and out of mine.

But we aren't little kids anymore. Things change.

The music turns off and Alex comes to the door, clad only in a pair of red shorts. When he sees it's me, his mouth tilts into a scowl. “What do you want, Ivy?”

“To talk to you.” I don't wait for him to invite me in, because it's pretty apparent he isn't going to. I pull open the screen door.

“It would have been hard for me if you were dating Charlotte Wu—” I start.

“What are you talking about? I'm not dating Charlotte.” Alex leans over the back of the couch, picks up a white T-shirt, and pulls it on.

“If you were though. If you'd started dating her at Halloween after the two of you hooked up, I would have been jealous, and I would have been worried about how it would change our friendship. But I wouldn't have stopped being your friend. I wouldn't have
abandoned
you.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Abandon? That's a little dramatic, Ivy.”

“Well, that's how it feels.” I pace the hardwood floor between the front windows. I remember when Luisa ripped out the ugly, orange shag carpet and refinished the floors underneath. “I needed you this week. You know how freaked out I was about my mother coming back. It's been a nightmare. She drinks too much, and she fights with everybody in sight. She and Granddad can't go ten minutes in the same room without an argument. Half the time it's about me. Did you hear about the scene she made at Java Jim's?”

Alex nods, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“So you heard, but you didn't come by and see if I was okay? She called me a bitch in front of everybody! Told me it would be all my fault if Gracie and Iz get separated. She told me I'm the kind of girl who people leave.”