“I love it.” She scooted closer. No one else was in the courtyard. She smelled like vanilla, and her eyelashes were like thick black parentheses. That was it. My brain only had room for those two facts.
Abby’s waiting outside Ms. Livingstone’s classroom, Simon’s phone in hand. I can’t look at her without blushing.
She still has my drawing. She kept it.
“So here’s what I want to know,” Abby says. “How do you find time to take literally three hundred and sixteen selfies with Bieber?”
Simon scoffs. “I make the time.”
“Apparently.”
He makes a face at her. “How do you have time to count my selfies?”
“I don’t even know.” She grins, eyes cutting toward me. “Oh, and Leah.”
She touches my elbow.
“Yup?”
“We need to figure out road trip stuff. Were you going to ride the bus home today?”
I nod carefully.
“Okay, cool.” She smiles. “So, I’ve got my mom’s car, and I was wondering if maybe we could do WaHo after school? Then we can hammer out the plans, and I can drive you home afterward.”
“Um. Yeah.” I swallow. “Sure.”
“Yay! All right, I have to get to calc, but okay—great! I’ll meet you outside the atrium?”
I nod, feeling dazed. I feel Simon studying my face, lips pursed like he’s about to ask me something. God. I don’t want to talk about the drawing. Or Abby. Or the most pointless crush I’ve ever had. I mean, Simon doesn’t even know I’m bisexual. But he keeps looking at me with his Thinker face, nose wrinkled like a bunny’s.
The weird part is, it should be easy to tell him this. Simon, of all people. It’s just that my heart and lungs and pulse don’t seem to realize this.
“Leah?” he says softly.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
He’s quiet for a moment. And then he looks me straight in the eye. “Do I take too many dog selfies?”
See, now I don’t know whether to laugh or choke.
Seven hours later, I’m in Abby Suso’s car.
Her mom’s car. Whatever. I’m in a tiny, enclosed space with Abby, who’s wearing a fucking sundress and tiny moonstone earrings. She hums as she backs out of her parking space.
I feel breathless and unsteady.
“So we’re good to go on the apartment. We can have it whenever we want. My friend will just stay with her boyfriend.”
“Wow. That’s really nice of her.”
“Right? I’ve actually only met her once. She’s actually my cousin’s girlfriend’s friend’s sister.”
I laugh. “What?”
“I know. It’s ridiculous.” She pauses, adjusting the air-conditioning. “She’s my cousin Cassie’s . . . girlfriend Mina’s . . . friend Max’s . . . older sister. Caitlin.”
“And she’s just giving us her apartment next week.”
Abby nods, turning right on Mount Vernon Highway. “We can literally drive up tomorrow if we want.”
“Wow.”
“But I think we should do like Monday through Wednesday, or something, so it won’t be so crazy there. Unless you want to see what campus is like on a Saturday night.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I lean back against the headrest. “And Monday works. That’s the fourth, right? Today’s the first . . .”
My phone buzzes with a text from Simon. Oh! My inner goddess has a question for you
I stare at the screen. He’s still typing.
WAIT
He types again. We aim to please, Miss Steele
And again. *w-t-f WHAT’S HAPPENING???
I glance sideways at Abby. “I think Simon’s texting me quotes from Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“Hmm,” Abby says. She gets these crinkles by her eyes sometimes—like old people get, but she makes them look young. Abby Suso is singlehandedly reclaiming eye crinkles for our generation.
Simon texts me again. I think someone hacked my virginity
*p-h-o-n-e not my virginity!!!
Why does it say virginity when I type virginity??????
I mean p-h-o-n-e
“Wait.” I stare Abby down. “Does this have something to do with you using Simon’s phone this morning?”
Abby shrugs, eyes wide. “I don’t know. Does it?”
Holy. Shit.
“You’re a fucking genius, Suso.”
My phone buzzes insistently. LEAH WHY IS THIS HAPPENING??? I swear this isn’t me, it’s my subconscious
WHAT NO STOP, he adds. It’s my a-u-t-o-c-o-r-r-e-c-t We aim to please, Miss Steele HOW DO I FIX THIS
I burst out laughing. “I’m screenshotting this.”
Abby’s lips tug upward. “This is why you don’t lend your phone out on April Fools’ Day, Simon.”
Abby Suso. Who knew she was so evil?
I shake my head. “I’m legit so impressed right now.”
“Thank you.”
“Sent you a screenshot,” I say as we pull into Waffle House.
“YES.” She turns off the car and taps into her texts. “And . . . someone hacked his virginity. I’m dead.”
I rub my cheek, smiling. “I don’t even know how to respond to him.”
“Because it’s too perfect.”
“I want to frame these texts and put them in a museum.”
Abby smiles.
I smile back. It’s like my facial muscles have gone rogue. And now my heart’s banging around my rib cage like a drunk, blindfolded bird.
Yeah. I don’t know why I decided a road trip was reasonable, because I can’t even handle the Waffle House parking lot with this girl. I should have gotten a doctor’s exemption. To Whom It May Concern: In my professional opinion, Leah Catherine Burke should be barred from any and all prolonged interactions with Abigail Nicole Suso, whose middle name she has absolutely no reason to know, but knows anyway.
Of course I fucking know it.
I trail a few steps behind her in the parking lot, feeling foggy. Thank God this girl could converse with a rock, because my brain isn’t working. It just stopped out of nowhere, like a car stalled on the highway.
She’s searching for something on her phone. Abby gestures so much when she talks. Even now, even while actively Googling, she keeps waving her phone emphatically.
“Ah. Okay, here we go,” she says, tilting the screen toward me. “I’m so excited about these.” I think she’s talking about prom shoes.
I peer at the screen. “Are these jellies?” I ask finally.
She beams. “Yes!”
They’re the classiest jellies I’ve ever seen—crosshatched, clear ballet flats, infused with silver glitter. Kind of like what Cinderella would wear if she were a six-year-old sucking a rocket pop by the neighborhood pool.
“They’re really awesome,” I say.
“I hate wearing heels. I’m not doing it. I need to be able to dance.”
A waiter stops by and is instantly spellbound by Abby. Like, she smiles, and he’s done for. It’s kind of gross how fast that tends to happen. We both order waffles, but I’m 50 percent sure he’ll only bring hers. I guess I should be used to this.
The funny thing is, Abby doesn’t even seem to notice. She looks at me, mouth quirked at the corners. “So, you and Garrett . . .”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Why not?” Her eyes narrow. “He definitely likes you.”
God. What do I even say to that? Maybe he does like me. Maybe Garrett and I should be a thing. I’d probably like kissing him. And I like being wanted. I like being the crushee for once.
I mean, he’s sweet. He’s cute. And yes, he’s annoying, but he’s not a bad guy. I should like him. I want to like him.
I change the subject. “So, you and Nick.”
“Me and Nick.” She exhales. It comes out like a sigh.
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. She just sits there. Then, a minute later, she smiles brightly and seems to snap back into hersel
f. “Anyway, I’m excited for our trip.”
“I need to give you gas money.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. My parents want to cover that.”
“They don’t have to do that.”
“I’m telling you, they want to.”
My cheeks feel warm. “I should pay for something.”
I mean, I hate not being able to pay for my shit. I’m already getting a ride and a free place to stay. I should cover gas. I know how this works. Of course, I can’t actually afford to cover gas. Because I can’t make money without a job. And I can’t get a job around here without a car. Which is why I need a ride in the first place.
I hate money stuff. I hate it.
“You’re in charge of music,” Abby says. “Just make the most epic road trip playlist of all time.”
“Okay, but I was going to make the second most epic playlist.”
“I don’t want the second most epic. That’s not good enough, Leah.”
It’s like someone’s squeezing my heart, just a little. One tiny pinch. It’s the way she says my name. I’m Lee-uh. And maybe strangers call me Leia, like Star Wars. But when Abby says it, it falls halfway between.
It catches me off guard every single time.
15
THEY LOCK THE MUSIC ROOM on school vacations. Which would have been fine. I’m not dying to revisit the Morgan and Anna shitshow anytime soon. But then I made the mistake of telling Taylor about Nick’s drum kit—the one he can’t even play—which made Taylor realize that rehearsing in Nick’s basement was her life’s great purpose.
So, now it’s Saturday, and I’m waiting for my ride to Nick’s house. From Garrett, our brand-new keyboardist. Apparently, that’s a thing that’s happening. I’m actually nervous, waiting for him to get here. For one thing, Garrett and I haven’t been alone together since I asked him to prom, but he’s texted me a lot. Definitely more than usual. I guess it’s starting to feel like Garrett’s a question I’ll eventually have to answer. Like there’s an asterisk by his name.
It’s sunny and cool out, so I wait for him on my stoop. I feel pretty antsy. I mean, part of it’s just knowing that Morgan quit the band. Because of me. God knows Anna won’t let me forget that. But how am I supposed to even talk to Morgan, let alone make music with her? What would Abby think of me then?
Before long, Garrett pulls up in his mom’s minivan. He parks and then immediately hops out to open the passenger door.
“Do you not know how to turn off the child locks, or something?” I ask, because I have to give him shit. I have to. He’s Garrett.
“What? Dude. I’m being a gentleman.”
A gentleman. Who calls me dude. I should definitely not be charmed by this. I click my seat belt into place.
“What’s in the envelope?” He glances at my lap.
“It’s a drawing, for Taylor’s birthday.”
“I didn’t know it was Taylor’s birthday,” he says.
I mean, you have to admire Taylor. She knows exactly what she wants, and she just makes it happen. I don’t know what her deal is with Nick, but clearly, his house is where she wants to spend her birthday. And boom. Here we are.
“So, Morgan really quit the band, huh?” Garrett asks after a moment.
“Yup.”
“Weird. I wonder why.”
“I know why. It’s because she doesn’t want to deal with me.”
“How could anyone not want to deal with you, Burke?” He pokes my arm, and my stomach sort of lurches. Like, how do I even respond to that?
“She didn’t like being called out,” I say finally.
He stops at a red. “You mean about the Abby thing?”
“It’s not about Abby. It’s about Morgan being racist.”
“You think she’s racist?”
“You were there.”
“I mean, she shouldn’t have said that, but don’t you think she’s just bitter? She’d just gotten rejected.”
I whip my head toward him. “Yeah, you don’t even get it.”
“Okay.” He tilts his hands up. “Explain it to me.”
“I mean, Morgan one hundred percent implied that Abby got into Georgia because she’s black.”
“Right. And obviously she’s wrong about that.”
“She’s super wrong.” I clasp my hands. “You know Abby got a perfect score on the SAT reading, right? And she makes straight As.”
“Really?”
“Yup, the only reason she’s not in the top ten is because she transferred, and the classes from her old school aren’t weighted the same.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“And look at what she does for extracurriculars. God. But Morgan’s going to say she didn’t deserve Georgia? Fuck that.”
For a moment, Garrett doesn’t speak—he just turns onto Nick’s street. Simon and Nick’s neighborhood looks like a storybook illustration, with its carefully mowed lawns, painted shutters, and buds on all the dogwoods. He pulls up along the curb by Nick’s house and turns off the ignition.
“So, has anyone ever told you that you cuss a lot?” he says finally.
“Oh, fuck you.” But the corners of my lips twitch upward.
“Look. You’re right. Morgan was an asshole,” he says. Then he turns to face me, head-on. “How do you know so much about Suso?”
“What? I don’t.” My heart leaps into my throat.
Garrett looks at me strangely. “Okay.”
We hop out of the car, and there’s Taylor, sitting on the stoop next to two guitar cases. “Hey, birthday girl,” I call out, walking toward her. She flashes me an electric-bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
I settle in beside her, punching her softly in the arm. “You okay?”
“Of course!” She nods. “Hey, have y’all heard from Nick?”
“Well, no, but, uh. We’re at his house.”
“Right.” Taylor nods. “But, like . . . no one’s home?”
“Maybe his parents are at a workshop?” I mean, they’re doctors. It happens.
“Oh, totally,” Taylor says, looking unconvinced. “But Nick should be here. We just texted this morning.”
“Weird,” Garrett says.
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“I’m sure he’s in the basement playing video games.” I shrug. “He probably didn’t hear you knock.”
“Maybe.” Taylor tilts her head. “Anna and Nora are checking down there now.”
“Or he’s passed out, asleep. He’s fine.”
Taylor nods and twists a strand of hair around her finger. Moments later, Nora and Anna tromp up the path from the backyard. “Basement’s locked,” Anna says. “What do you want to do? Should we just take a rain check?” She looks from Garrett to Taylor to me.
“I don’t know,” Taylor says.
“I could text him,” Garrett adds.
Taylor sighs. “We’ve been texting him all morning, and we’ve called. He’s not answering. It’s just so weird.”
“He’s fine. I’m sure he’ll text us later,” Garrett says. “Burke, why don’t we grab some lunch?”
“Let’s just wait another few minutes,” Taylor begins, but then her voice falls away. Because, suddenly, Nick’s car is in the driveway, the garage door rumbling open. Taylor’s whole face lights up. But he doesn’t drive in or get out or anything. He just sits there, frozen, like he’s in a trance.
So I stand. “I’ll go talk to him.”
I jog over to his car. It’s like he doesn’t even see me approach. I knock on the window, and he slowly rolls it down. “Hey,” he says dully. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet.
“Holy shit. Are you okay?”
He shrugs, staring straight ahead.
“Nick?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Okay, I’m slightly freaked out. Maybe a little more than slightly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nick like this. I mean, I’ve definitely never seen him cry. Truthfully, I never know how to act
in these moments. I don’t have the instincts for it. Like, I literally can’t tell if he wants me to go away or if he wants me to bust into his car with a bear hug. So I split the difference and just sort of . . . hover. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
He sighs and buries his face in his hands. “Why are they all here?” he asks, voice muffled.
“For rehearsal . . .”
He doesn’t respond.
“For Emoji? The band?”
“Fuck,” he says finally.
“Bad time?”
He peeks up at me. “Yeah.”
“I’ll deal with everyone. Just head inside.” I swallow. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . want to be alone.” He sighs. “Anyway. Thanks.”
“No problem.” I pause. Then, before I can overthink it, I stick my hand into the open window and ruffle Nick’s hair. Because I’m that awkward. But he smiles a little, so it’s worth it.
He slides the window up again as soon as I step back. Then he drives straight into the garage, turns his car off, and shuts the garage door without looking back.
I walk back to the stoop, and Taylor leaps up right away. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” I bite my lip. “He said he wants to be alone, though.”
“Oh.” Taylor looks crestfallen.
Anna shrugs. “Works for me.”
Garrett jangles his car keys. “You ready, Burke?”
But Nora presses a hand to my arm. “Wait. Simon says he’ll kill me if I don’t bring you back to our house.” She holds her phone up. “He says it’s an emergency.”
I freeze. “An emergency?”
“I’m sure it’s not an emergency emergency. He’s just being Simon.”
I nod—but now I’m thinking about Nick’s shiny red eyes. There’s this clammy feeling in my chest—which is just how it felt when my dad left, right before my mom broke the news. It’s like my body knew first. So maybe it really is an emergency. Maybe something really bad happened.
I follow Nora up the road, leaving Garrett visibly deflated. But I can’t worry about Garrett right now. I almost ask Nora if I should run back, just for a minute. Just to check on Nick. But then I think of how quickly he shut that garage door. And he did say he wanted to be alone. I don’t want to bust in on his alone time.