“So, Anya, what do you say?”
“No,” I replied firmly.
“Okay,” he said, putting his hat back on his head. “Just so I know, is it the dance or is it me?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“Yes, because if you don’t like me, I’ll stop bothering you,” Win said. “I’m not the type of person to linger where I’m unwanted.”
I considered this question. If I was very honest with myself, I didn’t want him to stop bothering me and yet it was the only sensible solution. “It’s not you,” I lied. “I just don’t think with Arsley in the hospital and how complex my personal life is, I should be seeing anyone at the moment. Triage, you know?”
“I understand, but that sounds like bull,” he said. Then Win left, making sure to take his hat with him this time.
In that moment, I liked Win more than I ever had before. I appreciated that when something sounded like bull, he said so.
I let myself feel good and sorry for myself, but only for a second. Daddy always said that the most useless of all human emotions was self-pity.
On Monday, Win was cordial with me in FS II, but he didn’t sit with us at lunch. Instead, he ate with some of the guys who were not technically a band. Scarlet asked me if anything had happened between me and Win, so I told her.
“What is wrong with you?” Scarlet asked. Her voice sounded surprisingly angry.
“Nothing,” I said. “Maybe it’s not that great an idea for me to have a boyfriend right now. Gable is still in the hospital, you know.”
“What does Gable have to do with anything? You’ve been flirting shamelessly with Win ever since school started!”
“That’s not true!”
Scarlet rolled her eyes. “I, on purpose and very selflessly I might add, stopped going for Win because I thought my very best friend was in love with him.”
“It isn’t a good time, Scarlet.”
Scarlet shook her head. “I don’t understand you at all.” She concentrated on eating her lasagna (again!) and so I did the same.
“What’s so great about being in a couple anyway?” I demanded of Scarlet. “Get your own boyfriend if you think they’re so important.”
“That was mean,” she said. Scarlet shook her head at me, and I immediately regretted the second half of my comment. Even though Scarlet was beautiful and loyal, she was also considered slightly odd and, consequently, she rarely got asked out. Nana, when she was still herself, used to say that Scarlet was one of those girls who would be far more appreciated when she was older.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Scarlet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Scarlet didn’t reply. She picked up her tray and left me to eat alone.
All through play rehearsal that afternoon, Scarlet wouldn’t speak to me and she didn’t wait for me at the end of rehearsal either. I hated that I had hurt Scarlet’s feelings so I stopped by her apartment on the way home from school to apologize again. Scarlet lived on the top floor of a six-story walk-up. It was quite a climb, which was why we usually hung out at my house where the elevator was mostly reliable.
“Apology accepted,” Scarlet said. “I decided I’d probably overreacted once I got to the hallway, but by then I’d already stormed off and it seemed embarrassing to storm back. By the way, it’s not that everyone has to be in a couple! You clearly like Win, and he clearly likes you. It’s simple, or it should be.”
I looked at Scarlet. “Nothing is simple.”
“Then explain,” she said. “Please explain.”
“All right,” I said. “But you have to promise never to repeat this to anyone. Not to Natty. And especially not to Win.” Scarlet promised, so I told her what Charles Delacroix had said to me about how no son of his could ever date a girl like me.
“That’s awful,” Scarlet said.
“I know.”
“It is awful,” Scarlet continued. “But I don’t actually see why it matters.”
“It’s his family,” I said, “and family matters more than anything.”
“Yes, but it’s Win’s family, so if he wants to piss off his father, that should be his choice, don’t you think?” Scarlet asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “But when you think about it, it’s not as if I’m going to marry Win or like I’m even in love with him, so what’s the point? There are millions and billions of people in the world to get with, so why bother with the one whose father is very powerful and dead set against me?”
Scarlet considered this statement. “Because it might be fun. And it might make you happy. So, what’s the harm if it probably won’t last anyway?” Scarlet kissed me on the cheek.
As I mentioned about one hundred pages ago, Scarlet was a romantic. Daddy used to say that calling a person a romantic was just another way of saying he or she acted without regard for consequences.
“Scarlet, I can’t,” I said. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I have to think about Natty and Nana and Leo. Imagine if Charles Delacroix decided to retaliate against me.”
“Retaliate! That’s ridiculous and paranoid!”
“Maybe, maybe not. Win’s father struck me as … Well, I guess you’d call it ambitious. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility that he could call the authorities on my family to get me out of the picture.”
“You sound crazy, Annie,” Scarlet said. “There’s no way that would ever happen.”
“Listen, I’ll tell you one scenario I thought of. Charles Delacroix knows that Natty and I don’t have a real legal guardian at the moment. Nana’s not good. She’s really lost it, Scar. Leo is … Leo is what he is. What if Mr. Delacroix called Child Protective Services on us? What if I ended up back at Liberty or someplace like it, only forever? And Natty could end up there, too! My point is, Win’s just not worth it to me.”
Scarlet’s eyes filled with tears.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
Scarlet waved her hand in front of her face in a manner that struck me as almost comical. “The way that boy looks at you! And he doesn’t even know why you’re … I wish I could tell him.”
“Scarlet, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“I would never betray your trust. Never!” Scarlet blew her nose on her sleeve. “It’s so tragic.”
“It’s not tragic,” I assured her. “This is nothing. Tragedy is when someone ends up dead. Everything else is just a bump in the road.” For the record, that was something Daddy used to say, but I’m pretty sure Shakespeare would have agreed, too.
XII.
i relent; make an adequate witch
DESPITE THE FACT that neither of us had dates, Scarlet wanted to go to the Fall Formal and so we did. I would have preferred not to, but as Daddy might have said, that was the price of friendship.
The theme of the dance was “Great Romances,” or some such nonsense. There were projections of supposedly great couples from the past on the walls of the gym. Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Hermione and Ron, Bonnie and Clyde, etc. I don’t think most of them met a particularly good end, but I suspect this was an irony that entirely bypassed the event’s organizers.
I was not surprised to discover that Win was there with Alison Wheeler. Though Alison and I were not friends, there was no animosity between us and we had gone to school together for years. She was pretty verging on very pretty, with a willowy frame and long red hair out of a storybook. It showed good taste on his part, and I was glad to see he had gotten over me so quickly. No one else had asked me to the Fall Formal, by the way. I suppose they were justifiably worried about ending up like Gable Arsley.
Toward the middle of the night, Win’s band set up to perform. (They were only to play during the DJ’s break.) I asked Scarlet if she wanted to leave.
“No, that would be rude,” she said. “He’s still our friend so let’s listen to at least one of his songs and then we can go.”
They started with a cover of a really old song called “You Really Got a Hold on Me.” Win ha
d a deep, husky singing voice, and he played guitar well, too.
“He’s good,” Scarlet said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you want to go now?” she asked. “I waved to him so I know he saw that we stayed.”
I shook my head.
The nameless “band” did a couple of original songs, and I liked those even better than the cover. The lyrics were clever and even poetic. Win was talented. There was no doubt about that.
I found myself very much wishing that we had left. It would have been easier not to have known that Win was talented.
They played a fifth and final song. It was a ballad, but not too sappy. I thought Win might have looked at me, but then he made a lot of eye contact with everyone. He seemed entirely comfortable onstage.
The band took their bows, and the DJ came back on to spin a couple more songs. I was glad that it was over. I felt hot and ill. I needed to get outside for some fresh air.
“Let’s go,” I said to Scarlet.
At that moment, one of the boys from the play asked Scarlet to dance. I didn’t want to be mean so I told her I would wait.
Scarlet made her way to the dance floor. It was a fast song, and she danced with considerably more skill than her partner. I was glad the dance hadn’t been a total bust for her. Behind Scarlet, I spied Win dancing with Alison Wheeler. She was wearing a knee-length white dress that really complemented her skin tone and her hair. She looked elegant and very grown-up. Win had taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, and I guess he must have been a bit hot from performing, because his short hair was curled into ringlets around his ears in a way I had never seen before. I don’t know why, but I found those ringlets to be ridiculously sweet and irresistible.
As I was on the verge of a useless bout of self-pity, I decided to go over to the buffet table to get a tumbler of fruit punch.
A different song came on at some point, a slower one, and that was when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Miss Balanchine,” Win said.
I turned around. His eyes were bright and almost sheepish.
For some reason, having heard his music made me feel awkward around him. “I’m glad you came over. I really liked … You play well.” Not my most eloquent moment, to say the least.
“Dance with me,” Win said. “I know I’m probably making a fool of myself. You’re probably thinking, how many times do I have to reject this guy? Can’t he take a hint?”
I shook my head.
“But somehow I don’t even care. I see you in your red dress, standing by the punch table, and something in me wants to keep trying. I think, she is a person worth knowing.”
“You’re here with someone else,” I pointed out.
“Alison? Alison’s a friend,” he said. “My parents have known her parents for years. I’m doing her a favor. Her dad doesn’t like her boyfriend so I’m keeping them off his trail.”
“That’s not how it looked to me,” I said.
“Come on,” Win said. “Dance with me. There’s only half a song left. What harm can it do?”
“No,” I said, and then because I didn’t want him to think badly of me, I added, “I wish I could, but I can’t.”
I walked out of the gymnasium and into the hallway to get my coat. Scarlet would have to find her way home without me. Win followed me.
“What does that mean?” he asked. “I don’t understand you.”
I couldn’t get my arm in my left sleeve for some reason. “Here,” he said, “let me help.” He leaned across my body and guided my arm into the sleeve.
“I don’t want your help,” I said, but it was too late. I felt somehow outside my body. I knew no good would come of it, but I rose up and kissed him on the mouth.
His lips were sweet and salty. It took a second for them to respond to mine. But dear God, when they did!
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Win said.
And then I ran out the front doors of the school and into the brisk November air.
The weird thing was, I had meant to run out by myself, but somehow I had grabbed Win’s hand.
We ended up back at my apartment.
We kissed for a while in the living room, and if I’m honest (God forgive me!), I wouldn’t have minded if it had gone further. But I wasn’t that kind of girl and, thankfully, Win wasn’t that kind of boy either.
We stayed up all night talking about nothing in particular.
And then the sun came up, and because I liked him as much as I did, I knew I had to talk about something very particular with him: i.e., his father.
“I like you,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
“I want to tell you a story,” I said.
He said he liked stories, and I replied maybe not this one. And then I told him about the day I met his father.
Win’s eyes narrowed and their color seemed to change from a clear blue sky to twilight just before a hurricane. “I don’t give a damn what he thinks or says, Anya,” Win said.
But I doubted that was true. “I care what he thinks,” I said. “I have to.” I explained how I didn’t want any heat brought down on my family. Unlike Scarlet, Win didn’t say I was being ridiculous for thinking that was a possibility. “So that’s why we can’t be together.”
Win considered this. “I’m really sorry he said that to you, but screw my father. Seriously, screw him,” he said. “What I do is none of his business.”
“But it is, Win. I see his point.”
Win kissed me then, and for the moment at least, I stopped seeing Charles Delacroix’s point.
It was nearly 7:30 a.m. Still clad in her pajamas, Natty emerged from her bedroom. “How was the dance, Annie?” Then she noticed Win. “Oh!”
“Hi,” he said.
“He was just leaving,” I said.
Win stood, and I pushed him toward the door.
“Let’s go see my father right now,” Win said in a tone that I couldn’t quite identify as serious or joking.
“And tell him what?”
“That our love is too strong for him to suppress it!”
“I don’t love you yet, Win,” I told him.
“Ah, but you will.”
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Let’s keep this a secret until we know if it’s serious. Why sound the alarms if we don’t even end up liking each other all that much anyway?”
“Hmmph,” Win said. “I think you might be the least romantic girl I’ve ever met.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I laughed. “I’m just being practical.”
“Fine,” he said. “Practical it is.”
The elevator came, and he was gone, and, truthfully, I felt the least practical I’d ever felt in my life.
Inside the apartment, Natty was waiting for me. “What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“It sure looked like something,” said my little sister.
“You’re imagining things,” I told her. “Now what do you want for breakfast?”
“Eggs,” she said. “And a love story if you’ve got one, Annie. A really sappy, romantic one with tons of kissing and stuff.”
I ignored her. “Eggs it is.”
“Have you told Scarlet?” Natty asked.
“No, because there’s nothing to tell,” I said.
“It sure looked like something,” Natty repeated.
“You already said.” I cracked two eggs and began to scramble them. Natty was still looking at me expectantly. Her eyes were moist and shiny as a dog’s, and something about the sweet anticipation of her expression made me want to laugh and confess. Life hadn’t been easy for Natty either—everything that had happened to me had happened to her, too. It was a beautiful thing how innocent and generous she still was, how much she cared if her older sister was having a romance. “I like him, all right?”
“You looove him!”
&nb
sp; I poured the eggs into the pan. “And you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. Not Nana or Leo or Scarlet or anyone!”
“I liked him from the first time I met him,” Natty said happily. “What was kissing him like?”
“How do you know I even kissed him?”
“I just do,” Natty said. “You look all pink and … and kissed. You’ve got to tell me. He’s got those soft-looking lips.”
I laughed. “It was good, okay?”
“That is not very descriptive,” Natty said.
“Well, that’s all you’re going to get.” As I put her eggs on the table, I noticed a bruise on her right forearm. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know. I probably banged it in the night.”
“Does it hurt?”
Natty shrugged. “I had a nightmare, only a little one. I didn’t even have to wake you up. Maybe I hit it against the wall? When are you going to see Win again?”
“Maybe never. Maybe he won’t ever call. Boys sometimes act like they like you and then never call, Natty.”
At that moment, our phone rang. It was Win.
“You got home fast,” I said.
“I ran,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you before you changed your mind about things. Can I see you tonight?”
Part of me thought it might not be such a great idea to see Win again so soon, but that part of me was curiously mute. “Yes,” I said. “Come over tonight.”
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said.
“Where?” I asked.
“It’ll be a surprise.”
I told him that I still thought it would be a good idea if we kept our relationship a secret.
“I know and I agree,” he said. “But you don’t have to worry. Where I’m taking you, no one will know us.”
We rode the subway out to the farthest stop in Brooklyn, which was Coney Island. When we got off the train, there was a weathered boardwalk and an ominous cluster of nonoperational amusement park rides that looked like colorful spiders.
“Oh, I know this place!” I said. My parents had taken me and Leo here the summer before it had been closed by the city. (Something to do with an infectious outbreak. Or maybe it had been power-grid issues. I had been too young to remember.) “Nothing runs anymore.”