16
BRODY AND I LOOKED AT each other. He must have seen something very dark in my expression, because he removed his arm from my shoulders.
“I didn’t want to tell you.” Kaye sounded almost pleading. “I explained to Ms. Yates that the two of you started dating because of the title. She said it was even more important that we tell you, then. It wasn’t fair for you to base your relationship on false information. I see what she’s saying about rules and honesty and what have you, but sometimes I think this school forgets we’re human beings, just because we’re not adults yet. They act like our relationships with each other aren’t real.
“But!” She spread her hands and looked toward the sky for strength. “That’s as far as their crusade for the truth extends. Ms. Yates insisted I tell you this, but we’re supposed to keep the mistake a secret. Otherwise there will be a chain reaction. Since each person can win only one title, they’re all intertwined. If Harper wasn’t part of Perfect Couple, she should have won Most Artistic, because she got the most votes for that. The girl who we thought won that gets booted to Most Original, and so forth. Brody should have won Most Athletic. The advisor doesn’t want any of this to get out. It would take time to photograph the Superlatives again and the yearbooks would be late.” She grinned wanly at me. “You’re welcome.”
“Well.” I swallowed against the nausea. “Who’d the senior class pair me with as Perfect Couple, then?”
Kaye eyed Brody before she turned back to me and said, “Xavier Pilkington.”
I took a deep breath and let out the longest sigh of resignation. The school had paired me with Mr. Most Academic. He might wind up the valedictorian. He might not. Kaye and some other folks were giving him a run for his money. But when the class had elected him Most Academic, what they were really calling him was Biggest Nerd. Most Repressed.
Just like me.
“And Evan Fielding,” she added.
The old man’s hat.
“Who’d they pair Brody with?” I asked. It was going to hurt. But if I didn’t ask, the curiosity would eat me alive.
Kaye glanced at Brody again, like she was asking permission, before she swallowed and said, “Cathy.”
Grace’s best friend and fellow cheerleader and beer-searcher-outer. Sure, that made sense.
“And Tia,” Kaye said.
Of course. The free spirit. The sexy chick who didn’t give a damn what anybody thought. My complete opposite. The girl Brody had a crush on in middle school.
I’d thought the senior class had gone insane when they put Brody and me together. Now that I knew they’d put Brody with Tia, I understood how smart the members of our class were, and how they’d seen through Brody’s exterior to his deepest desires. We were never meant to be together. My admiration for him was real. I’d been talking myself into thinking we were compatible. But my week as his girlfriend had been a sham.
I turned to him. “I’m really sorry.”
He frowned at me. “About what?”
About the fact that he was going to make this as hard as possible, but it had to be done. I soldiered on. “About last night. I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“Oh, now, wait—” Kaye tried to interject.
“You sound like you’re breaking up with me.” Brody’s voice was rising.
Yep, he was going to make this difficult, all right. I said, “I am.”
“You are?” Kaye asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
I widened my eyes at her. Breaking up with Brody was hard enough without Kaye acting like I wasn’t doing the right thing. I was sorry she felt guilty about the mistake. It truly wasn’t her fault. But she must have guessed the news would break up Brody and me.
In a rush, Brody stood. The sudden shift of his weight bounced the truck and jolted me as he said, “I should have known.”
“Known what?” I slung back at him. Sure, we’d been ridiculously mismatched from the beginning. I had sensed this, and he had too. But he didn’t have to yell at me about it, as if I was beneath him because I wasn’t more like him.
He glanced angrily at Kaye, then held out his hand to me. “Come here.”
Reluctantly I let him lead me away from his truck, into the empty center of the parking lot. Pretty much all the football players had headed home, leaving only the vehicles of a few coaches, Kaye, Sawyer, and Brody. He looked at the fast-moving clouds in the overcast sky. Then he said, “You’ve felt like you were being daring to go out with me. I’m not safe like the guys you usually date.”
He heaved a pained sigh. “But that wasn’t it at all, was it? Going out with me was the safest thing you could do, because our class picked me for you. At least, you thought they did.” He was very close to me now. “The second you find out I wasn’t preapproved after all, I’m not worth the trouble!”
My heart was hammering, and I couldn’t catch my breath. His words rang true. He was absolutely right.
Sawyer walked up beside us. “Larson. Can you take a step back?”
Brody faced him. “This is none of your business, De Luca. I’m not threatening her.”
“You’ve got eight inches on her. It looks bad.”
Brody blinked at me, as if he saw me for the first time. He stepped backward and put both hands up. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I breathed.
He laughed. “If we can apologize, this is nothing like my parents fighting.”
“Mine, either.”
Sawyer eyed me, then glanced back at Brody. “Don’t make me come over here again.” He sauntered toward Kaye, who still sat on Brody’s tailgate.
“Anyway,” Brody told me, “I don’t know what else there is to say. Nice knowing you?” He followed Sawyer.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I called after him, irate for the first time.
He turned around and kept walking backward. “You broke up with me.”
“Yeah, but . . .” I crossed the space between us. “You know, it was just a shock. I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out why we would be paired together. When I found out we weren’t, that made so much sense that my gut reaction was we shouldn’t be together. But . . .”
He shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not going to work,” he said. “You’ll always be on the verge of breaking up with me. You’ll assume it won’t work between us, and therefore it really won’t, all because the senior class hasn’t given you permission. We don’t look right together, so we must be wrong for each other.” He started backing up again. “I don’t want to second-guess everything between us because you’re too afraid to take a chance.”
He walked swiftly toward his truck, pausing only to mutter something to Kaye and Sawyer. They slid off Brody’s tailgate, and Sawyer slammed it shut. Brody cranked the engine and took off across the parking lot.
There were no screaming tires and burning rubber. That would have made me feel better. I would have known he was angry, and therefore he cared. This calm acceptance meant he was really done with me. He wouldn’t ask me to reconsider. He wouldn’t make me jealous to try to get me back. Our entire relationship had been a mistake.
Kaye waited for me, leaning against her car next to Sawyer, tears streaming down her face. I could see them glinting in the sun even at this distance. I knew she felt awful, even though it wasn’t her fault. I walked over.
“Kaye won’t tell me what the problem is,” Sawyer said. “It’s some huge secret.”
“It is,” I said.
“Then I don’t understand why you won’t tell me,” he said. “I am the best at spreading rumors. I could unburden you and let the whole school know in a matter of hours, and you wouldn’t have to worry about people finding out anymore. You would feel so much better.”
“Sawyer,” Kaye bit out. “Damn. It! ” Her last syllable echoed sharply against the school.
Kaye and Sawyer had picked at each other constantly sinc
e he moved to town two years ago. She often seemed exasperated with him, but she was rarely genuinely angry.
And I had never seen him fed up with her. He shouted back, “O-kay!” and stomped to his truck.
Watching him go, I leaned against Kaye’s car in his place.
“I am so, so sorry,” she said through her tears.
“It’s all right, Kaye, really. It’s better that we know. Brody’s right. We never would have worked out.”
“But you were having so much fun together,” she protested. “You said you were happy. I could see you were happy. Your faces lit up at each other.”
I shrugged. “It was only physical, I guess. I can always find another football player.”
Kaye gave a big sniff. “You can tell yourself that. The problem with denial is, it’s a bitch when it comes to a screeching halt. After that happens in a few hours, give me a call. I’m here for you.”
I nodded. My heart was racing, but I felt strangely numb.
“You’re good at keeping secrets,” Kaye said.
“Yes, I am.”
“Guess who the senior class really voted Perfect Couple That Never Was?”
I could tell from the look on her face. “You and Sawyer.”
“And he hates me,” she said. “I wish I’d never heard of these stupid titles.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said. I would keep his secret. Besides, if I told Kaye that Sawyer had a crush on her, that would lead nowhere. Even if she wasn’t with Aidan, there was no way she and Sawyer could get along as a couple. But I couldn’t let her go on thinking he hated her when the opposite was true.
I could definitely agree with her on one thing: “These Superlatives titles are the worst idea ever.” But I wouldn’t say I wished I’d never heard of them. If it hadn’t been for my title with Brody, I would never have shared last night on the beach with him. And though we’d probably been right to let each other go, I would cherish the feeling of understanding him so deeply, and the memory of his body on mine.
When I got back to the B & B, I found Mom sitting halfway up the grand staircase, oiling the newel posts. I asked her, “Where are the guests?”
“They’re all out. What’s up?”
I’d been doing deep-breathing exercises all the way home on my bike, so I was able to say calmly, “I would like to get on the pill.”
It was dark in the stairwell, with only a little evening light filtering through the second-story stained-glass window. Even so, I could see every drop of blood drain from Mom’s face. “Harper. Have you had unprotected sex?”
“No, Mom. I haven’t had sex.”
“Thank God!” She flopped backward on the staircase with her arms sprawled out and her hair in her eyes, like she’d fainted. After this dramatic show, I waited for her to sit up again, but she stayed there. I patted her hand.
“Never scare me like that again,” she murmured.
“That’s the point. Brody and I broke up, but—”
“Oh, honey!” She sat up then, flipping her hair back over her shoulders. “I’m so sorry. You weren’t dating him very long. What happened?”
“I broke up with him. And then I tried to take it back, and he broke up with me. Now I regret it.”
“Why don’t you try to make up?”
“He’s really mad, Mom. Really mad. I don’t blame him. The thing is . . . last night we fooled around. We didn’t have sex, but we wanted to. It scared me. I think it scared me so badly that I pushed him away. I—” I stumbled over the rest of what I’d meant to say. Hearing myself verbalize the problem was what opened the floodgates, and all of a sudden I was bawling in Mom’s arms.
* * *
Mom led me back to the house and actually cooked me dinner for once. We sat at the table and talked for an hour about Brody, and the Superlatives, and what all of it had meant to me. I explained that being named to the title with him had made me realize that my world was smaller than it needed to be, because I was mostly doing what other people wanted or expected, instead of exploring all my possibilities.
“The pill is just another part of it,” I said with a loud sniffle. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get Brody back. Even if I did, I’m not saying we’d do it. For a while, at least. But I’m about to turn eighteen. I’ll be at college soon. I think it’s time I took care of myself. I’m tired of being afraid.”
Mom nodded. “Those are all good reasons. We can definitely get you on the pill. And I know what you mean about being scared. It’s a big decision. You should feel confident that you’re protected.” She eyed me. “But, Harper.”
Uh-oh. “What?”
“If you’re ever about to have sex and you’re not a little bit nervous in a good way, you’re not doing something right.”
“That’s wholesome, Mom. Thanks.” I rubbed my eyes. I’d had to take my contacts out after the first fifteen minutes of bawling. “I am going to college, you know.”
She shrugged and started to get up from the table. “You don’t have to decide right now.”
“No, Mom.” I grabbed her hand and held it until she slowly sat back down. “I don’t know why you want me to skip college and help you run the B & B. Maybe you see your relationship with Dad finally ending, and you’re afraid to be completely on your own. There’s no reason for you to feel that way. You’re a successful businesswoman. You don’t need me.”
She smiled wanly. “Maybe I just want you.”
“But I don’t want this,” I said. “I don’t even want to help with breakfast anymore. I could really use more time in my day to expand my photography business, and that will help me pay for college. Plus, if you hire real employees, you could choose someone who’s better company for your guests.”
“Oh, honey!” she exclaimed. “You’re lovely company.”
“You’re saying that because you’re my mother. And as your daughter, there’s another thing I’d like to do, too, if you’ll let me.”
She took a deep breath before she asked, “What’s that?”
“I’d like to testify in court tomorrow and swear to the judge that you and dad don’t need to go to counseling. Your marriage is irretrievably broken. Again.”
She watched me for a long moment. “Wouldn’t that make you sad?”
“No. I would be happy to help you both move on.”
“I’ll call my lawyer, then. Thank you, Harper.” She reached across the table to stroke my hair out of my eyes. “Hey, do you have that pocket camera on you?”
“Yeah.” I pulled it out and handed it to her.
She pointed it at me and snapped a picture before I could hide.
“Ugh,” I said, putting my hands over my face.
“Uh-huh.” She peered at the view screen, admiring the shot she’d taken. Satisfied, she handed the camera back to me. “Be sure to print that picture so you don’t lose it as technology changes over the years. I promise you this: When you’re my age, you’ll look at it and think, ‘I was gorgeous, with or without glasses, no matter what I wore or how I did my hair. Why did I waste my time worrying about how I looked?’ ”
I snorted. “God, Mom, that’s something old people say.”
“Listen to me,” she said, patting the table for emphasis. “We old people are not making this shit up.”
* * *
A few minutes later, I rang Granddad’s doorbell and heard him walk to the door. He didn’t open it.
“Granddad,” I said.
“Who is it?” he barked.
“Three guesses.”
“I’m busy.” He took a few steps away.
“Granddad,” I called through the door, “did you kill someone?”
“When?”
“Recently,” I said. “Are you hiding a body in your house?”
“No.”
“Let me in to see for myself.”
“No.”
“You know what? You’re leading me to believe something is very wrong in there. If you don’t open this door right now, I??
?m calling the police.”
“Go ahead!”
I thought for a moment. “I’m calling Mom.”
The door opened just the width of the security chain.
“All the way,” I prompted him.
His face appeared in the opening. He glowered at me for a moment, then opened the door wide.
Before he could protest, I ducked under his arm and dashed for the back room he used as a studio. “Harper!” I heard him shout, but I’d already run though the studio doorway and seen what he didn’t want me to see. I screamed.
“Eeek!” the naked lady squeaked.
“I am so sorry,” I told her as I retreated into the hallway with my hand covering my eyes.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” she called. In a moment, she came through the doorway in a luxurious silk wrap. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore a lot of tasteful makeup. She was between Granddad’s age and Mom’s, I guessed, and her body was still beautiful. I could vouch for this, as I’d seen every inch of it. What hadn’t been showing when I burst in on her was depicted in Granddad’s paintings crowding the walls.
I extended my hand. “I’m Harper, the granddaughter.”
She shook my hand. “I’m Chantel, the nude.”
“Ha ha!” I said. “I beg your pardon. I was afraid Granddad was running an opium den or fight club or something back here. He’s been so secretive.”
“He’s the strong, silent type.” Chantel winked at me.
After backing out of that one, I returned to the front door, where Granddad was still scowling. “Granddad,” I told him, “you’re an artist. And you’re a man.”
“A grown man,” he added.
“Well said. And you’re within your rights to have Chantel pose nude in your studio. The only thing weird about this is that you are being so freaking weird about it!”
“I’m sixty-eight years old!” he shouted. “I’ll do what I damn well please!”
I sighed, frustrated. Granddad was right—he’d been weird for a long time. The likelihood was slim that he would change because I complained. But it was nice to know that if I turned out to be an old curmudgeon just like him, maybe I would keep a few happy secrets.
“I actually came to make sure you’re watching the weather,” I said. “The hurricane’s been downgraded to a tropical storm, but we’re supposed to get rain and maybe tornadoes tomorrow.”