chapter seven

“SERIOUSLY, GEORGIA, I was in full-on ugly cry mode. It was mortifying. Anthony probably thinks I’m nuts. Like certifiable.” The phone was slippery in my hand. I was nervous about calling Georgia after our last phone call ended awkwardly, but Georgia acted as if everything was normal.

“So you really smashed the beaker?” Georgia asked.

“Uh-huh.” I sighed.

“And blew the compound. You actually blew?”

“I know. It’s humiliating.”

“But you really think he was about to kiss you?” Georgia asked.

“What does it matter now? Unless I have a split personality for explanation, he’s never going to speak to me again.”

“Did he do the tilt-and-lean? Were his lips together or apart?”

“I’m not sure, but it was just a feeling. He had this penetrating look and I felt like I saw right through his honey brown eyes all the way into his soul—”

“Honey brown?” Georgia interrupted. “I thought he had green eyes. Remember,” she mimicked, “Honestly, they’re like emerald green.”

“That’s Owen,” I said.

“And this was . . .?” Georgia asked.

“Anthony.”

“I thought you liked Owen. Who the heck is Anthony? Jeez, when you lived here, you couldn’t even talk to Steve McCaffity and now you’re juggling two guys?”

“I am not juggling! I do like Owen. Owen is amazing and beautiful and sends shivers up my spine. Anthony is just a friend. He’s my lab partner, remember?”

“Your chem labs are a little more hands-on than ours,” Georgia said.

“Shut up. He probably had no intention of kissing me. I don’t know what I was thinking. We were talking about our parents, and that stupid lemon pound cake kept prompting memories. I’m such a mess.” I tried not to cry. “And now I’ve screwed up one of the only friendships here that I really felt comfortable with.”

“Look,” Georgia said, “just explain to him that all the talk about your parents made you a little crazy. Anyone with an ounce of compassion would understand.”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking back to our conversation. “Anthony thinks I never tried to understand Mom’s apology. He said I was afraid.”

It was silent on the other end.

“G?” I asked.

“Well, do you think maybe he has a point?”

I started to resist but stopped myself. I recalled the three months of numbness and inactivity. Was I subconsciously trying to avoid something that could possibly upset me?

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. But isn’t it too late? I can’t go back and ransack the house now. I don’t know how to begin to look for an answer.”

“Have you thought about asking Jolie?” Georgia asked. “They were sisters. And friends.”

“Right,” I said. “I guess that would be a start.” But my stomach turned just thinking about it. I sighed. “So what do I do about Anthony? How do we explain to the teacher why we no longer have our compound? Oh my God, he’ll probably lose his scholarship for destruction of school property. This is a nightmare.”

“I know,” Georgia said. “Good luck.” We hung up.

I sat on the bed and stared at the phone for a while. Both Georgia and Anthony thought I was avoiding Mom’s apology. I went to the living room and waited for Jolie to come home.

“Hey,” Jolie said, coming through the door and placing a pizza box on the table. “Did you get your lab done?”

“Not exactly.” I walked over and sat at the table with her, glancing around to be sure I’d cleaned up the spill well enough. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Jolie took a bite of pizza and handed me a napkin.

“Do you have any idea what Mom’s apology meant?”

Jolie froze, a strand of cheese dangling from her lips. I guess she wondered why it took me almost four months to ask. She wiped her mouth, put her pizza down, and sat up a little straighter. “No,” she said. “I wish I did.”

“Oh,” I said, sounding defeated. For a moment I thought how nice it would be if the answer was here all along. “Did you keep our old address book so I could maybe call some of Mom’s friends? Or do you remember the name of her college roommate?”

Jolie looked at me unblinking. “What’s this all about?”

I drew circles with my finger in the remaining dusty compound debris on the kitchen table. “I’m just thinking about trying to find some answers. I mean I never really tried . . .”

Jolie’s voice sounded stiff. “Em, we’ve worked so hard to move on and you’re making great progress. I think digging for answers is a step in the wrong direction.”

“Don’t you want to know what she meant?”

“Of course I do.” Jolie’s voice softened. “I just don’t know how we would ever be able to solve this mystery. I thought I knew everything about your mother, but some secrets are sacred, I guess.”

I nodded slowly. We finished our meal in silence.

 

THE NEXT MORNING, I lugged Anthony’s backpack to homeroom, but Anthony wasn’t there.

The bell rang, so I lugged both bags on to history. Just when I decided he had dropped out of school to avoid me, I saw him slip in the door and quickly take his seat in front of me.

“Hey,” I whispered over his shoulder. “I have your bag. I’m really—”

“Thanks,” Anthony interrupted, and turned to grab it. Without making eye contact he swung back around and started scribbling furiously in his history notebook.

I’ve really screwed this up, I thought as my stomach dropped.

Anthony sneezed.

I said, “Bless you,” but he didn’t thank me, just nodded once.

It was obvious that he was still upset at my behavior. Who wouldn’t be? I thought. I acted like a lunatic and I jeopardized his grade. Oh, yeah, and practically shoved him out of the apartment while screaming.

The bell rang and Anthony jumped up and raced down the hall.

My next four classes dragged. I couldn’t concentrate on any lectures; instead my mind swarmed with possible options of how to explain to Anthony why I smashed the beaker. I could tell him the truth, but I didn’t want anyone to think of me as the old tragic Emily with poor coping strategies. I wanted only to be the new Emily.

Sixth-period chemistry class finally arrived, and I decided I would simply apologize. No extraneous details, just, I’m really sorry. But Mrs. Klein split us into groups, and I had no interaction with Anthony. By the day’s end I realized that there were a zillion ways to apologize to someone, but none of them mattered if you never opened your mouth.