The Jane Austen Academy had never held a prom—it had been an all-girls institution until last year—so Anne had never given much thought to prom-dress shopping. Still, she was certain that it was nothing like the event that Emma had orchestrated.
First, the girls had been ushered into town cars and driven into downtown Merrywood. The town cars veered past the main street filled with quaint little shops and into the warehouse district off the highway where most of the community’s wine bottling occurred.
Anne and Josh had arrived first, and while Anne had been content to wait in the car, Josh immediately set about pulling open the industrial rollaway doors. Instead of the warehouse being empty or full of bulk grocery supplies or wine barrels as she’d always imagined, the cavernous space was flooded with lights that lit rows and rows and rows of steel wardrobe racks, each filled with dresses on hangers. Thousands of dresses filled the warehouse from one end to the other in an overwhelming display of silk, lace, bows, and metallic fabrics.
“What am I supposed to wear?” Josh murmured to Anne’s right.
She turned her attention to the morose movie star. “Josh Wickham can wear whatever he damn well pleases.”
His eyes slid to her and then back to the dresses. “Damn right.”
Several entertainment shows were calling him “the Comeback Prince” after the buzz around his latest movie and a slew of successful talk-show appearances. The once down-on-his-luck actor was now reveling in the success. Anne didn’t mind reveling with him.
Anne and Josh waited for the other town cars to bring the rest of their friends. They sifted through the racks one by one. The hangers clicked against one another as they fingered the selections. “Were you really planning on finding something to wear today?” Anne asked. “Gowns could be the new tuxedos.”
“Nah. I just had to see what Emma meant by ‘prom dress event of the century.’”
“Even when she uses hyperbole, she still manages to understate. And now that you’ve seen it?”
“I’ll stick around,” Josh said with a shrug that was obviously meant to be a little too blasé and carefree.
Anne knew Josh’s presence had less to do with gowns and more to do with a girl. He leapt at any chance to be with Fanny. Even though Fanny was firmly in love with her tattooed, lip-ringed boyfriend, Josh seemed to believe that if he bided his time, all good things would come to those who waited and Fanny would pursue “better things,” as he said.
She rather liked the idea of Fanny and her boyfriend, Tran, together, but she couldn’t argue with the results of Josh’s recent infatuation. It had made him much nicer and more tolerable to be around since his days of insufferable selfishness.
She glanced up at the sound of another town car arriving, and the two Blondies, as they had been nicknamed, emerged. Emma and Ellie might be roommates and they both had blond hair, but that’s where the similarities ended. Emma was short, quick, and always in designer shoes, whereas Ellie was tall, gangly, and more often in sweatpants or a swimsuit. While they were both dressed as usual, they were unusually in mid-argument.
“But if you wear heels, you’ll be taller than your date,” Emma was saying, as though if Ellie wore heels she would bring about eternal damnation and suffering to the world.
“Edward doesn’t care how tall I am or whether I tower over him,” Ellie said. “Shouldn’t I get the shoes I want?”
“Since when do you even want high heels?” Emma asked, exasperated. “If I could find formal flip-flops, I swear you’d wear those.”
“I don’t see an opportunity for heels in Guatemala next year. I need to live it up the one day I can.”
Emma’s wild eyes found Anne and Josh. “You two have to talk sense into her.”
Ellie gasped, and her blue eyes rounded in shock as she finally took in the rows of dresses. She reached out to feel the fabric beneath her fingertips. “Is this all for us?”
Emma surveyed the scene and allowed herself a triumphant smile. “Technically, it’s for my prom fundraiser for central and southern California high schools at risk. But I thought I’d give us first pick at the merchandise. Come on—before the others get here and take all the good stuff.”
They stormed the rows. Anne filed through the dresses quickly, pulling a short red silk cocktail dress, then a more dramatic purple gown with a slit to the waist. She piled so many dresses over her left arm that it began to ache.
“Set them down over there, by the sofa,” Emma said as she critically studied a dazzling lilac ballerina dress.
A fitting area had been set up—a square carpet with four sofas and four full-length mirrors that faced one another in a corner so one could see every possible angle. Anne laid her dresses over the back of one of the sofas and dove back into the fray. By the time Lizzie, Kat, and Fanny arrived, she already had two dozen outfits waiting.
“Is there a curtained-off area?” she asked, casting a glance at Josh who stood next to Fanny, holding her dresses for her.
“We’re all ladies here,” Emma yelled over several racks of dresses.
“I request a recount,” Josh said.
Anne gave a quick thought to the blue-and-white striped bra and underwear she wore underneath her sheath dress, decided it covered as much as her swimsuit, and set about disrobing. She pulled the red cocktail dress on headfirst. The silky material slinked down her arms and over her hips. She reached behind her and zipped it up to her waist; she wasn’t flexible enough to pull it up all the way.
She stood in in the center of all the couches and mirrors and twirled around. She liked the way it fit—cinched tight at her waist, with cap sleeves that showed off her shoulders—how bright it was against her skin, and best of all was the smooth, silky material. She imagined what her mother would say. You’re going to prom, not starring in a telenovela. It was too red, demanded too much of the spotlight, wasn’t elegant enough. She pulled it over her head and slid on the next dress.
Anne had made it through half of the outfits when she was joined by the others. Within moments, the sitting area was chaotic with piles of dresses and squeals and exclamations and compliments.
“What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked with a concerned frown as she noticed Anne pulling off yet another dress with a frustrated sigh and standing, hands on hips, glaring at her pile.
“They all looked so good on the hanger. But on me?”
“Everything has looked good on you. That’s not the problem.”
Anne stared longingly at the red cocktail dress she’d tried on first. Lizzie, noting the direction of her stare, picked it up and held it against Anne’s frame.
“What was wrong with this one?” Lizzie asked.
“It’s so red. Too short for prom. Silk-polyester blend.” That last phrase was definitely spoken with her mother’s tone.
“So?”
“So. So…”
“So what?” Lizzie said. “Put it back on.”
Anne heaved the dress over her head with a sigh, even though she loved the brush of silk against skin.
“Anne, you look amazing.” Lizzie turned her around and zipped the dress up all the way.
Anne dared another look in the mirror. “Are you sure it’s right for prom?”
“I’m sure it’s right for you.”
Emma pounced on them, making Anne turn in circles. After a deafening silence, she stuck one finger in the air. “I approve. Now, can everyone put on her perfect dress? I want to make sure we all look good together.”
They fumbled with zippers and buttons and clips. Josh helped by zipping and clipping and holding aside hair until they all stood single file in front of a mirror. Josh let out a low whistle as he studied them. “You guys look like a rainbow.”
Anne squinted into the mirror, then realized what he meant. They’d inadvertently chosen outfits that fell across the color spectrum.
Lizzie wore an orange open-backed halter dress that cascaded down her legs like a waterfall.
Ellie’s blue maxi dress skimmed her tall figure. It was the same color as her eyes and set off her tan. Her long, blond hair swept along her bare back.
Kat wore a purple bejeweled V-neck with dramatic trim that dropped to the floor and swirled out at her ankles—just a preview of what she’d eventually be wearing to the Academy Awards if her future went her way. She posed in the mirror, made duck lips, and twisted her red hair into a knot at her neck like a pro.
Fanny’s jade-green fringe dress came alive as she twirled, the fringe dancing around her bare legs. She went into a lunge, and the bottom of the dress rode dangerously high up her thighs but clearly gave her the kind of legroom she wanted.
Emma had broken ranks by wearing a canary silk tuxedo. She looked so chic with her tailored pants and the short tuxedo jacket that stopped just under her chest, leaving her midriff exposed.
Then there was Anne in her red dress.
“It’s not exactly a rainbow. We’re missing indigo,” Ellie said. “And we’re not in the right order.”
“We need to make sure the boys match us,” Emma said.
“That won’t be a problem for me,” said Anne. “I don’t have a date.”
The girls all turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, because,” she stammered, “I don’t have a date.”
The collective fall of their faces was too much.
“It’s okay,” Anne said quickly, not wanting their pity. “It’ll be easier. I can wear what I want.” Maybe she’d get nothing else she wanted, but Lizzie had been right. She wanted this dress, and this, at least, she could have.
“So, Emma, are we putting red Post-it notes on these dresses?” Lizzie asked.
“We don’t need to. They’re ours. An organizer’s gift.”
Lizzie cast a critical eye over her friends. “Has everyone come up with something to red-post?”
A collective groan echoed in the room from everyone except Kat.
Kat switched her pose so her left leg was out front. “I red-posted all the drama programs from the Academy going back to the construction of the auditorium, and took all the photos of me as lead.”
“See,” Lizzie said, “that’s the self-centered spirit I’m looking for.”
Kat shot Lizzie a glare.
Lizzie ignored her. “Now the rest of you better have something red-posted by prom.”
* * *
Anne stretched across her bed with a groan.
“Is it just me,” Lizzie asked, plopping onto her own bed across the room, “or does it feel like we went through an entire day of boot camp?”
“Why are my quads sore?” Anne moaned. “All we did was shop for prom dresses. We didn’t even have to walk around a mall. We were driven there and back.”
“I think shopping is Emma’s Olympic event. We weren’t nearly trained enough.” Lizzie flipped over onto her stomach, then winced. “I’m staying here for the rest of the night. Have food brought to me, please.”
“Then we’ll starve. I can’t move.”
“This is how we die.”
“Tragic.”
They both lay still in silence until Lizzie’s stomach growled loudly. “Maybe if we text one of the girls?”
“They’re probably all sore like this. All except Emma.”
“Maybe if we text Emma?”
“No,” said Lizzie darkly. “She’ll just drag us back out for more shopping.”
Anne reached beside her for her fluffy stuffed bunny and pulled it against her chest.
“Oh, gross,” Rick said, glancing away from the monitor. He was sitting next to Anne in the computer lab as she watched clip after clip of medical procedures on animals and humans, from how to set broken bones to how to perform an intramuscular injection.
“Watch, watch, watch.” She grabbed his arm and pointed at the monitor, where a vet was sewing up a leaky intestine.
He’d been a good sport and watched every video with her, grimacing the entire time.
The next day he showed up at the cottage with a stuffed animal—a rabbit. “Consider him your test bunny, so you can practice all the stuff you watch.”
“Isn’t that cruel and unusual?” she teased, drawing him back to her bedroom.
He pulled her down on her bed and trapped her, willingly, in the cage of his arms. “He’ll endure anything to be with you.”
She felt warm and secure beneath him, safe—but also excited and nervous.
“Shots.” He kissed her neck. “Surgery.” Her eyelids. “Cartoon Band-Aids.” Her mouth.
He managed to distract her for half an hour before she pulled up another video clip and set her bunny—Bunritto, she named him instantly—on her lap. With her sewing kit, she practiced a stitch line on its right ear.
“Do you think it’s straight?” she asked. “Tight?”
“I think it needs a kiss to make it better,” Rick said.
Somehow, with Bunritto in her arms, her muscles felt less sore, her back less achy. Memories of Rick always made her feel languid and fluid, drowsy as a summer haze.
“Maybe we could make a freshman bring us dinner,” Lizzie suggested as her stomach let out another call for food. “We’re never going to get to haze them as seniors, since the Academy is shutting down. Maybe we should just start early.”
“Seems fair,” Anne agreed. “How do we get one down here?” The freshmen and sophomores occupied the top two floors of the Academy dorms, while juniors and seniors shared the ground and second floors. The odds of a freshman running into their wing were slim to none.
“Maybe if I tap out desperate Morse code on the walls,” Lizzie said.
“Can’t Dante bring us something? What is the point of dating him if he isn’t at your beck and call?”
Lizzie grinned at the mention of her boyfriend. “It does seem like food delivery should be a side benefit.” She typed something into her phone. A few moments later, a ping came through. “We’re saved,” Lizzie said dramatically.
“Will he hand-feed us, too?”
“Seems like a reasonable request. Unlike moving to the same city.”
Anne turned to her side, ignoring the ache in her back. “What do you mean?”
Lizzie grimaced. “My parents transferred me to Chenery in DC. They figure I’ll get better internships, make more connections. A better chance of making it into Georgetown. But Dante is trying to get me to transfer to Ignatius in Manhattan to be near him.”
Anne chose her next words carefully. It wasn’t that she thought Lizzie should give up anything for a boyfriend, but Ignatius was just as prestigious as Chenery, and to be wanted… well, that was something. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I can’t pick a school just because my boyfriend wants me to go there,” Lizzie said, exasperated. “If our relationship can’t survive a one-hour flight, then we should go ahead and break up.”
“You don’t mean that,” Anne said fiercely. “And distance does do weird things to a relationship. Think about how much you see each other now. What if that were just gone?”
“Why can’t Dante move to DC, then? Even if he didn’t, so what if we couldn’t see each other every day?” Lizzie flipped to her side to look at Anne. “Think of all the bad things that can happen to a couple. If we can’t make it through something so easy as being an hour apart, should we really be together?”
Anne’s face pinched.
“Anne, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean… about you and Rick.”
“No, you’re right,” she said. Of course, Lizzie being right didn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes Lizzie’s words sliced more effectively than any weapon.
“It was different for you. You were what? Thirteen? I’m a year away from being independent and making all my own decisions. To tell you the truth, I don’t know if Dante and I should stay together at all.”
Anne gasped. “Don’t say that just to make me feel better.”
“I’m not.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “His family would never approve of me.”
“Who cares?”
“I do. My own family barely knows I’m alive. Do I really want to have a set of parents who give me crap all the time? I don’t want to go through my whole life worrying about what his parents are going to think about every little thing we do.”
“So you’re just going to break up with him? You won’t even give him a chance?” Anne sat up in bed, desperate to make Lizzie hear her. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Who’s to say I won’t regret moving to New York just to be with Dante? What if we break up then, and I’m stuck in Manhattan instead of in DC where I need to be?”
“Maybe we should find this comforting,” Anne said, lying back on her bed in defeat. “We’ll be miserable no matter what we choose.”
* * *
“Are you nervous?” Emma eyed Anne fisting the hem of her light-blue cardigan. The knuckles of her fingers, tight across the back of her hand, were pronounced and white. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”
Anne shook her out her hands and tried to slip them in her pockets, only to realize her sleeveless white eyelet dress did not have any. She brushed down the sides of her hips. “I’m worried we’ll forget something.” She gestured to the chaos of the warehouse. The rows and rows of dresses had been pushed against the walls. In their place were rows of picnic tables with white tablecloths, blue china, and sparkling silverware, ready for hundreds of guests at Emma’s fundraising lunch. Emma had convinced their peers to wear black pants and starched white shirts to serve lunch to the society crowd that Emma had suckered into paying three figures a head for a “prom-style” lunch—with punch, an artisan variation on nachos, and heart-shaped butter cookies. Further proof that Emma could talk anyone into anything.
“You shouldn’t worry. I’m in charge, which means it will be perfect.” Emma nudged her shoulder. “Besides, we both know that’s not why you’re nervous.”
“I know,” Anne mumbled. She glanced toward the entrance for the tenth time. Rick had also agreed to help, but he’d yet to make an appearance. “I’m fine. And almost done here.”
While she wasn’t serving, Anne had been put on decoration duty. She slipped a prom dress over the head of the white mannequin with its smooth, marble features. She picked up a pin and secured the dress in the back. Emma had selected several designer prom dresses to auction off to raise additional money. She had such an eye for opportunity.
“Don’t look now,” Emma whispered between her teeth. “Walking disaster coming our way.”
Anne resisted the urge to turn around. She couldn’t mean Rick; Emma would never refer to him that way. But who could possibly be a—
“I love this dress.” Lucy Banning slipped her hands around the mannequin and squeezed it tight. Lucy may have been a walking disaster, but she always looked amazing. She was wearing black pants and a white shirt, per Emma’s instructions, but her choppy black hair was a style entirely her own. It was streaked with her trademark dark-blue bolts that matched her eyes.
She caressed the dress. “What a hot champagne color. It would look beautiful on you, Anne.”
“We already have a dress for Anne,” Emma said serenely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check with the caterers.”
Anne shot Emma a quick glare as her friend walked away, reminding her that they were supposed to make an effort to be nice to Lucy.
Even if Lucy was the biggest pain in their sides.
Anne could never figure out how Lucy, with all her friendly intentions, managed to be such a menace. While Lucy had never been an issue for Anne, she had targeted the boys that her friends liked. None of it was ever her fault or the result of malice, either. Anne supposed she understood why her friends couldn’t bring themselves to be particularly nice to Lucy. If Lucy ever turned her attention to Rick—
Anne couldn’t even finish the thought.
“I don’t have a prom date yet,” Lucy said. She pulled at some of the other dresses hanging off mannequins and placed the cloth against her body.
“Oh.” Anne was unsure of whether Lucy wanted sympathy or was just dispensing information.
“Has anyone asked you to prom yet?”
How was Anne supposed to answer that?
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Rick asked as they walked out of the movie theater, hand in hand.
“You’ve asked me that every day. Has the answer ever been different?”
He grimaced and kissed the back of her hand. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you without knowing when I’ll see you again.”
“Maybe you should pick something a couple of years in the future, then. Just to make sure you’ve covered all your bases.”
“Okay.” He said it in a joking tone, but his eyes were serious. “Prom?”
Anne stilled. “We’re freshmen.”
“So?”
“The Academy doesn’t have a prom.”
“My school does.”
She pulled her hand out of his grip and took a step back. “Are you being serious?”
“Prom serious.”
“But seriously?”
He reached for her, but she took another step back. “Anne—”
“Prom is in three years. I know what I said, but… are you really asking me to be your prom date in three years?”
He grinned and nodded knowingly. “I guess I haven’t really asked. Not the right way. I’m missing a corsage. I smell like popcorn.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
She’d said yes.
Had he remembered?
“It’s okay to go alone,” Lucy said. “Lots of people go to prom alone.”
“I know,” Anne said defensively. The last thing she needed was Lucy coming to her aid. She was fine with going by herself. Rick was going alone, too, wasn’t he?
But what if they didn’t have to go alone? The fantasy was always there, at the front of her brain. It played without her even having to willingly summon the vision of herself in Rick’s arms. And for the first time, it wouldn’t have to be just the two of them. Everyone—her friends, her classmates—would see how they felt about each other, so it wouldn’t be some deep, dark secret she held inside anymore.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest, where it had begun to ache. She looked for Emma, who was gathering the catering volunteers in a circle around her. “Aren’t you supposed to be over there?” she asked Lucy.
Lucy spun around, her mouth in a surprised O. She made a running start, slipped, and crashed sideways into the nearest picnic table. The wooden plank jackknifed in the air, sending plates crashing down. Lucy cried out as they rained over her.
Anne sprang into action. She heaved the picnic table off Lucy. Angry red cuts appeared on Lucy’s arms. She tried to sit up.
“Don’t move.” Anne ran an appraising look over every inch of Lucy’s skin.
“My wrist.” Lucy clutched her right wrist in her left hand.
“You have bruising. It’s probably sprained. I’m going to touch down lightly against your skin. Tell me how it feels.” Anne gently tapped two fingers along Lucy’s wrist.
Lucy winced over the tender spot.
Anne ran to the punch bowl and scooped out cubes of ice. She pulled off her cardigan and wrapped it around the ice, then returned to Lucy and set the makeshift cold pack against her wrist.
“To help with the swelling. We need to get you to the nurse. Can you stand? Careful. You might have twisted your ankle, too.” Anne wrapped an arm around Lucy’s waist and pulled Lucy’s arm across her shoulders. She stood with a grunt as the girl’s weight dug into her side.
A crowd had gathered around them, most of the volunteer caterers and Emma, too, who had found a broom and was sweeping away the remnants of chipped plates and glass.
“You, in the open toes, step back,” Emma said with a wave of the broom. “No open toes until we clear this area. You there—can you go back to the catering truck and ask for eight more place settings? Also, bring back one of the garbage bags.”
“I’m so sorry about this,” Anne said.
“Why would you be sorry, Anne?” Emma’s green glare landed directly on Lucy. “You weren’t the one who did anything.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Lucy gulped. “I was trying to help.”
“It was an accident,” Anne said. She could see it took considerable willpower for Emma to soften her glare and manage a reluctant expression of concern for poor Lucy.
“I’ll find someone to cover for you. Go take care of those cuts. At least none of them were on your face.” Emma’s tone hardened at the last line, but fortunately, no one seemed to notice but Anne. “I know none of you drove, so I’ll have a car waiting outside for you.”
“You’re the best,” Lucy said.
“I know,” Emma sighed, turning away to finish giving her orders.
Anne and Lucy took short steps out of the warehouse. As Emma had promised, within moments a car pulled up offering to take them back to the Academy, and the driver was nice enough to help Anne guide Lucy to the nurse’s office.
She sat in the waiting room. A part of her knew she should be annoyed; she was missing her friend’s big dinner night. Missing out on being with her other friends who would soon all move to far-flung parts of the globe. She was losing another chance to spend time with Rick, even if he was ignoring her.
Yet she was excited.
Anne had always wanted to be a vet. She’d always wanted to help animals. But the truth was, life afforded her very few opportunities to do so, save for the occasional thirsty dog. When Lucy had been hurt, Anne hadn’t stopped to think. It hadn’t mattered who Lucy was or how much she annoyed her or whether Rick was coming through the door or who was leaving. For a moment, all that mattered, all that had existed inside of Anne, was this desire to make wrong things right.
She’d seen Lucy’s cuts, the bruise on her wrist. Even now, it was driving her nuts to sit still in the waiting room. She wanted to see what was happening. She assumed they’d have wiped the wounds and covered them with anti-scarring and antibacterial lotion. Maybe even liquid bandages. Her wrist would have to be immobilized.
After what felt like hours but could have been no more than thirty minutes, Lucy came limping out of the room, her hair a veil in front of her eyes. Her hand was resting in a sling secured around her shoulders.
“Those don’t look so bad,” Anne said, pointing to the cuts on her arms.
“Yeah, they’ll heal up. Not much scarring, which is a relief.” Lucy sighed. “Even the leg is just a bruise. But I sprained my wrist, like you said.”
Anne lit up, grinning, then promptly went somber. “Not that I’m happy about it. Sorry.” There was no point in explaining. Lucy wouldn’t understand why she’d been so satisfied to have diagnosed her correctly. “Do you need help back to your room?”
Lucy squirmed, her lips pressed together. “They never did find me a roommate since I transferred in late. I really don’t want to be alone. Do you think maybe…?”
* * *
“Just until Lizzie gets back from dinner,” Anne said for the tenth time. “She’s been writing a series for an online journal on the Academy’s last days, and when she writes she really needs to focus and won’t like having…” The word intruders came to mind. “Guests.”
“This is so fun, like a sleepover.” Lucy sat down on Lizzie’s bed, crumpling the covers.
“Maybe sit over here,” Anne suggested as she herded Lucy over to her own bed.
Anne knew Lizzie would not be overjoyed to find Lucy in their room, so she texted her roommate an update of the situation. The response was swift.
Ugh.
Followed by:
Dante is telling me to be nice. Pretend this is me texting something nice.
Anne smiled as she tucked away her phone.
“Who’s this?” Lucy asked. She’d made herself comfortable lying back on Anne’s bed. She picked up Bunritto. “Have you had it since you were a baby? I had a teddy bear, pink nose with fake little claws that were really pillows. My mom threw him away one time when she cleaned my room.” Lucy pulled the bunny into her chest, dug her nose into its neck, and breathed in.
Anne sat on the edge of Lizzie’s bed. Her fingers clawed at the mattress. It was just a bunny. It was just a toy. She shouldn’t care if Lucy picked it up and held it close. That was what stuffed animals were for. Besides, she was a grown-up. And grown-ups weren’t territorial over toys.
Lucy lifted her head and eyed the barrage of Band-Aids, red stitching, and pen marks that marred the bunny’s surface. “What’s this all about? Were you playing doctor?”
“Playing vet,” Anne said.
Lucy grinned and held up her bandaged arm as far as she could in the sling. “We’re a matching set of your patients.”
Anne was so grateful for the distracting knock on the door, even though she had no idea who it was. A moment later, before she’d even turned around, the door opened and Ellie stuck her head in.
“Lizzie told me you had a patient in here. I thought I’d come by,” Ellie said. Her blue eyes melted sympathetically when she saw Lucy curled up on the bed. “Oh no, your arm.”
“Wrist,” Anne corrected.
Ellie let herself in and climbed onto the bed next to Lucy. Anne wasn’t sure how Lucy and Ellie had become so friendly with each other, given they had both dated Edward. It was to Lucy’s credit that she didn’t hold her breakup with Edward against Ellie, and a testimony to Ellie’s sweet personality that she didn’t want anyone to be mean to Lucy for her sake.
Ellie cooed over Lucy’s wrist, and Lucy seemed to bask in the attention.
“Do you need water for your painkillers?” Ellie asked. She ran out and brought back a glass of water. Lucy was asleep from the painkillers within a few moments.
Ellie joined Anne on top of Lizzie’s bed, and they both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling.
“You’re missing Emma’s party,” Anne said. “You should go.”
“I will in a bit, but I want to make sure you’re okay. We can take shifts if you want.”
“Nah.”
Ellie stretched her legs up to the ceiling and touched her toes before letting her limbs fall back on the bed. She yawned and snuggled deeper into the mattress.
Anne envied how comfortable Ellie was wherever she went. It was Anne’s room, but Ellie was the one who seemed as though she belonged. “Have you given any thought to your Post-it?” Anne asked. “Lizzie asks me about it every day. I feel like if I don’t come up with something, she’s going to make me uproot the courtyard tree.”
“Actually, I already red-posted something,” Ellie confessed.
Anne rolled to her side and propped up her head on her hand. “When? What? Does Lizzie know?”
“I was going to tell everyone tonight, so I’ll let her know. It’s a little embarrassing. I wasn’t actually going to steal anything. I just figured I’d brush it off long enough for Lizzie to lose interest or move on to something else. But then I was walking past the trophy case, and I saw it.”
“You stole a sports trophy? Why?”
“Not a sports trophy. The Halloween Masquerade Dance costume trophy.”
“But you didn’t win it,” Anne said, squinting. “Why would you want a trophy you didn’t win?”
“I didn’t want the trophy. I just wanted the memory that came with it.” Ellie grinned. “It just made me feel good to remember what Emma and I went through together. How it all eventually led to me staying here instead of moving away.”
“And Edward,” Anne said quietly. Something in her hungered at the way Ellie’s eyes lit up at the very mention of his name. Six letters, two syllables, somehow symbolic for happiness. She was happy for Ellie, but being happy also felt very lonely.
Ellie’s lips curled up. “And Edward.”
Ellie and Edward made being a couple look so easy. They gravitated to each other effortlessly, finished each other’s sentences, and reveled in each other’s silence. “How is he dealing with Guatemala? You leave in a couple of weeks. He’s staying in California.”
“He’s finding new and creative ways for us to keep in touch,” Ellie said. “He also switched to a credit card with miles. And he’s learning Spanish. Faster than I am.” Ellie pursed her lips. “I think he’s been practicing in secret. It would be so like Edward to want to surprise me.”
“You can learn in secret too.”
“I suck at secrets. He would be able to tell in a second. I’m not like Lizzie and Dante—those two are the masters of double lives.”
“Have you talked to Lizzie about Dante asking her to move to New York with him?”
Ellie nodded. “She doesn’t seem like she’s into it, and I’ve seen them argue over it. I can’t believe they would consider breaking up just because they live an hour apart. I can’t even think of breaking up with Edward and it will be thousands of miles. It seems like if you find someone perfect for you, someone who is nice and smart and funny and fun and whom you love, why would you let distance get in the way?”
If only Anne had had Ellie around to advise her when Rick had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and attend the military academy. Instead, she’d had her mother telling her how distance poisoned a relationship, how it could make everything you loved about someone change, wither, and shrivel.
She’d pictured it happening to her and Rick. She had imagined wondering what he was doing when they weren’t together, wondering why he was taking so long to call her, speculating about his meeting someone else or going longer and longer without her.
Anne hadn’t followed through with the next conclusion: that by breaking up with him, she had taken all her fears and ensured they became a reality.
* * *
Anne woke the next morning and blinked slowly, disoriented. The sun from the window normally fell on her face, but it seemed darker than usual. She couldn’t see the wall or her desk. She sat up. She was in Lizzie’s bed. Still fully clothed. And Lucy was in Anne’s bed, lying awkwardly on her back with her hurt wrist bent over her head.
Rubbing her eyes, Anne swung her legs out and stretched. How late had she waited up for Lizzie after Ellie had gone?
Where was Lizzie?
Anne grabbed her phone and saw the message from her roommate.
Don’t wait up.
What did that mean? Had she even come back?
Anne quietly riffled through her drawers for a fresh set of clothes—dark jeans and a white button-up shirt. She was supposed to be helping Rick’s mother today with the final photographs and reports to the preservation committee. At least she’d woken up on time.
She texted Lizzie back.
Where are you?
Only Lizzie wouldn’t be awake at this hour, wherever she was. With a quick glance over her shoulder at Lucy, still asleep in her bed, Anne tiptoed into the hall. She quickly went through her morning routine of showering and brushing her teeth. She kept glancing at the phone she’d set on the sink, but Lizzie didn’t text back.
The conclusion was simple: she’d stayed in Dante’s room. But why? All night? What did that mean?
Lizzie had said she and Dante would have to break up. It was inevitable. So why would Lizzie then go and spend the night with him when it would make it all so much harder? Or had Lizzie lied to Anne or to herself about what she really wanted?
Anne finished up in the bathroom and walked in a daze down the hall back to her room, her phone heavy in her hand. For everything that felt like it was changing, this was somehow the most disorienting, the most dizzying proof that nothing would be the same—and it wasn’t even something that had happened to her.
Anne opened the door to her room and stopped short.
Rick leaned against the wall next to her nightstand, looking down at Lucy.
He was tall, lean. A stray lock of dark hair covered his green eyes. His hands were casually stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. He was smiling.
Only instead of looking down at her, he was looking down at Lucy.
He glanced up at the sound of Anne coming in the door. “I’m just checking on your patient.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Lucy said. Her arm, which had been swung every which way all night, was now cradled against her chest as immobile as stone. “He heard about my accident last night at Emma’s event. My accident was all anyone was talking about, apparently.”
Anne very much doubted Rick had made claims to anything being “all anyone was talking about.”
“Do you know each other?” Lucy asked. “I assume you do, since your roommates are dating, but I never see you together.”
“We know each other,” Anne said quickly.
“We’re both from Merrywood, originally,” Rick answered.
He never acknowledged their past, and Lucy seemed just as surprised. “So you’ve known each other for a while?”
Rick shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we knew each other very well.”
Anne felt as if her feet had been knocked out from under her, and she settled against Lizzie’s desk for support. It was one thing not to want her anymore, but another to deny their past. Didn’t know her very well? He had been the first person to know her, really. Didn’t he realize that? Maybe he didn’t care.
“I just wish I’d known you were coming by so I could freshen up,” Lucy said. “Look at you, Anne. You look perfect, as usual, and I’m a mess.”
“You look great, especially considering,” Rick said.
Anne’s stomach roiled as Lucy blushed. She drew her hair into a ponytail low at the base of her neck and swallowed.
“He’s taking me to breakfast. You should come,” Lucy said. “I’ll be back in a second. Let me get dressed.” She bounced out of bed and ran out into the hall, presumably to her own room.
And just like that, Anne and Rick were alone.
Not for the first time. They had been alone before, and each time was as sharp and poignant as the last. She kept thinking that if she exposed herself to him over and over, she would become inured, like a blistered finger that develops a callus from too much practice on an instrument. But she was no good at calluses, it seemed.
“It’s nice of you to check on her,” she said.
Rick shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea. Besides, it’s a little crowded at my place.”
“Lizzie! Is she there? I don’t meant to gossip, but…”
Rick’s lips hinted at a smile. “Dante slept on the floor. He tried to arm wrestle me for my bed so I would stay on the floor instead.”
“He didn’t expect to win, did he?”
“I think Dante always expects to win.”
They stood on opposite ends of the room, but their gazes leaped to each other with knowing smiles, and for a moment she felt transported back to those nights when they had entire conversations without a single word.
Rick walked over to her bed, and she held her breath as he leaned over it. He pulled the sheets tight and began to resettle the covers.
“Habit,” he murmured. “Military school. Can’t stand to see the corners if they’re not tight.”
Her feet were desperate to cross the room to him, her hand itching to cup his cheek. She set to making Lizzie’s bed just to distract her body from what it wanted. Was she the only one who felt close to him in those moments? The only one who craved more of them? She felt like a woman starving for crumbs from a plate. Maybe he only saw the moments of intimacy for what they really were: small remnants of something that used to be sustenance but no longer mattered.
Lucy returned, fresh-faced in a blue tank top with a V-neck that dipped low on her chest and pleather black pants that looked as if they’d been painted on. In comparison, Anne felt boring and plain.
“Oh, Rick, thank you,” Lucy said as Rick put the finishing touches on the bed. He set the bunny on the pillow without a second look.
“Have a nice breakfast.” Anne was proud she’d said it without a catch in her throat.
“Aren’t you coming?” Lucy asked. “You must be hungry, too. We both skipped dinner last night when we came back and you totally rescued me.”
* * *
The conversation between Rick and Lucy on the way to the cafeteria proved nauseating. Lucy’s ankle, which had fully recovered last night, seemed to have a resurgence necessitating Rick’s steady arm around her waist.
Anne scanned the tables looking for any friends she could join so she wouldn’t be subjected to Rick and Lucy spoon-feeding oatmeal to each other. She spotted Emma’s golden hair and made a beeline for her. Emma was sitting with Josh and talking up a storm. There was plenty of room for Anne. Unfortunately, there was also plenty of room for Lucy and Rick to follow her.
“You missed me nearly taking a header off the stage during the dinner, Anne,” Emma said. “I ended up choosing the Vera Wang, and the fishtail skirt was impossible. You know how my mom is always saying to address the whole room? How are you supposed to do that when the room is that huge? I had to keep turning back and forth. I felt like I was inside a spin cycle.”
Josh said, “You looked good, at least.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” Anne accepted the leftovers from Emma’s breakfast tray when she slid it over—still-steaming scrambled eggs and half a cup of black coffee.
“You were busy playing hero,” Emma said. “I feel like I should get you a cape. So as I was saying, I think we raised double what we projected, which means we can give out dresses and proceeds to Northern California high schools, too.”
Lucy had not even sat down before she asked, “What are everyone’s prom plans?”
Emma and Josh went quiet.
Emma was probably wondering what Lucy was even doing at the table.
“We plan on going,” Emma finally said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, but… who are you going with? All as couples? I figure Ellie and Edward will go together. But are you going with Knight? Is Henry flying up for Kat?”
“Who are you going with?” Emma asked tartly.
“I’m still waiting for someone to ask,” Lucy said. “But I don’t mind going alone. It’s about being with your friends and having fun, right? Our last hurrah together?”
Emma opened her mouth, a familiar saucy twist to her head, and Anne clamped down on her friend’s thigh beneath the table before she could say something hurtful. Emma took a deep breath instead of saying anything.
“Aren’t you going alone, Anne?” Lucy asked next.
Anne wished now she had let Emma make whatever witty remark had been on the tip of her tongue. Rick, who hadn’t been looking at her this entire time, finally glanced up. Their eyes met.
She yearned for him to say anything. Even, Hey, I thought I asked you years ago. But a beat passed. Then another.
“She’s going with me,” Josh said.
Rick looked back down, his face stone. Completely disinterested.
“Isn’t that right, Anne?” Josh said. “We’re going as friends.”
Anne nodded and smiled. She mouthed thank you.
“Maybe someone will ask me too,” Lucy said brightly.
Anne decided that from then on, she would let Emma say whatever she wanted.