“Likewise,” he said. “Taylor mentioned that you were working together, but I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” Warren shot me a questioning look, mostly, I suspected, because he didn’t want to have sole responsibility for the preteens.
“Lucy’s here for the slumber party,” I told him as I headed down the hallway, Lucy following behind. “You better not eat all the cookie dough!”
Two hours later, the slumber party had been salvaged. Gelsey’s hair had been teased out until it was twice its normal size and accessorized with glittery clips, and Nora’s was in two elaborate French braids. My hair had been worked on by both girls simultaneously, and so I had a row of three ponytails on Nora’s side and a head full of mini-braids on Gelsey’s. And we were all sporting dramatic new makeup, thanks to Lucy. When she’d arrived, she’d pulled out a professional-grade tackle box that Fred would have most likely envied. But instead of lures and fishing line, it contained the largest assortment of makeup I had ever seen. Gelsey was now wearing so much makeup that I was already planning the explanation to my mother if she came home before I could get it off her. Nora’s eyes had been done in a cat-eye style. She’d shrugged it off as “okay,” but I couldn’t help notice that she was peeking into Lucy’s hand mirror every chance she got, looking at her reflection with a tiny smile on her face.
We’d turned Gelsey’s bedroom into a proper slumber party room—blankets on the floor, pillows arranged in a circle, the food, magazines, and makeup in the center. We’d eaten our way through an entire tin of the kettlecorn, had made Sprite floats with vanilla ice cream I’d uncovered in the freezer, and had devoured the entire bag of tortilla chips Lucy had brought. We’d read through the advice section of Seventeen (I’d hidden Lucy’s Cosmo when I saw Nora looking at it a bit too interestedly) and had taken all the quizzes. We’d had a very unsuccessful round of Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board—Lucy conceded that you really needed six people to do it properly—and now, we were playing Truth or Dare.
“Okay,” Nora said, crossing her legs, leaning forward, and looking among the three of us. “Lucy,” she said, after a dramatic pause. “Truth or dare?”
Most of the dares so far that night had been pretty tame, and the majority of them had involved tormenting Warren. And so—maybe figuring that there was safety in numbers—Warren had taken the dog with him to the family room where, last I checked, he’d been sitting on the couch, back to the wall, book in his lap, protected against any further sneak attacks.
“Truth,” Lucy said. I shot her a slightly admonishing look, and she gave me one back that said, Don’t worry about it. It was surprising that after all the time apart, I could still read her. Almost as surprising as finding out that she could still read me. And she had picked up that I was nervous about just how truthful she was planning to be. Gelsey had always liked her—Lucy, an only child, had been willing to spend hours playing with my sister, and what’s more, seemed to enjoy it. But after seeing her makeup collection, and finding out she was captain of her gymnastics team back in New Jersey—something that had been news to me as well—I could see the girls moving into full-on idolization mode, and I didn’t want them hearing the full truth about Lucy’s exploits. After seeing her flirt with practically every guy who came to the snack bar, I had a feeling that she’d had a number of them.
“Okay,” Nora said. Gelsey motioned her over, and they had a whispered conference before Nora returned to her seat and fixed Lucy with her direct gaze. “When did you have your first kiss? And who was it with?”
My mind immediately switched to my own answer, the one I’d given at so many other sleepovers. When I was twelve. Henry Crosby.
“When I was thirteen,” Lucy said now, “with Henry Crosby.”
I stared at her, wondering if this was some kind of a joke, as Lucy helped herself to some of the jalapeño-flavored popcorn. “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling a jealous burn in my chest.
“Sorry, Taylor, but it’s Gelsey’s turn next,” said Nora, who had taken it upon herself to administer the rules of truth or dare.
Lucy looked at me and raised her eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “Did you never expect him to go out with anyone else, ever again?”
“No,” I spluttered, wishing I didn’t sound so defensive. “I just… didn’t know.” Lucy tossed back another handful of popcorn. “Did you two date or something?”
Nora and Gelsey were looking between the two of us, riveted, and I had a feeling this drama might turn out to be the highlight of the party.
Lucy shrugged. “For about a month. And we were thirteen. It wasn’t serious.”
I recognized the tone—it was the same one I had used when I’d laughed off my relationship with Henry. It was only in hearing it from someone else that I realized how untrue it was when I said it. Because even if I tried to make light of it, Henry hadn’t just been some guy who didn’t matter, nothing but a story to tell about a random boy I dated when I was younger. He had mattered, and he still mattered—which explained why all of our interactions had been so charged. It was why I was suddenly feeling possessive and incredibly jealous of Lucy, who had already moved past this story and was continuing on with the game.
I was caught up in these thoughts until I heard Gelsey say something about getting to first base, and my attention snapped right back.
“What?” I asked, staring at my sister. She just stared back at me, her freckles showing though Lucy’s application of concealer and foundation. It wasn’t like we’d been close, or that she’d ever told me her secrets, but I still would have thought I would have known if something like this had happened. “When was this?”
“At the dance last year,” Gelsey said with a shrug. “With a couple of different guys.”
“What?” I could hear my voice rising to the level of shrill, and Lucy shot me an alarmed look. I was suddenly regretting ever letting Gelsey put on makeup, and I was already planning in my head the conversation I was going to have with my mom when she got home.
“Just to clarify,” Lucy said, her voice serious. “Remind me. What’s first base again?”
“Holding hands,” said Nora and Gelsey in unison, and I could feel myself relax, hugely relieved that my sister hadn’t turned into some kind of sixth-grade hussy. Lucy bit her lip, and I could see that she was trying not to laugh.
Nora may have picked up on this, because she shot Lucy a withering look. “You know, holding hands is a really big deal,” she said, and Gelsey nodded. “It means something. And you don’t hold hands with just anybody. You only do it with someone you really care about.”
Nora and Gelsey continued on about the importance of hand holding, but I tuned them out when I thought I heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel. Sure enough, a moment later, I heard the sound of the door opening and closing and my dad calling out, “Kids? We’re home!”
My mother did her patented two quick knocks before opening the door, and not actually giving you enough time to say “Come in” or “Stay out”—which, actually, may have been her intention. “Hi,” she said. Her gaze traveled around the room, her eyes widening when she saw the amount of makeup my sister was wearing, and then stopped on Lucy. “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Lucy, is that you?”
“Hi, Mrs. Edwards,” Lucy said, scrambling to her feet. While my mom and Lucy made small talk, catching up over the last five years, Gelsey tossed Nora the now dog-eared Seventeen, and they bent their heads over it together, Gelsey bursting out laughing at something Nora pointed to. As I watched, I felt myself smile, and realized our work here was done.
After we left the girls with the rest of the snacks, and instructions to make cookies at midnight, Lucy packed up her things and we headed down the corridor, my mother and Lucy still talking.
“So great to see you again,” my mom said as we reached the from door. “And be sure to tell your mom hi for me.”
“I will,” Lucy assured her as my dad came in from the family room, the dog, as usual, under
his arm.
“Can this be Miss Marino?” my dad asked, smiling wide, pretending to be shocked. “All grown up?”
“Hey, Mr. Edwards,” Lucy said, but I could see her smile falter a little bit as she looked at him. Even though he was laughing and rubbing the dog’s ears, I could see what he looked like through Lucy’s eyes—much too thin for his frame, the kind of thin that always seemed to convey sick, not just dieting. The yellow cast to his skin. How much older he looked than he should have.
We walked out to the screened-in porch in silence, each of us carrying one of Lucy’s bags. I led the way down the three steps, and felt the grass, cool on my bare feet. The night was clear, the moon huge over the lake, and the stars were as numerous as I’d ever seen them. But I barely noticed this as we started walking down toward the dock. I had a feeling Lucy was going to say something, so I turned to her first, asking the question that had refused to leave my mind. “What happened with you and Henry?”
Lucy stopped and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “What do you want me to say?” she asked. “We dated, and it didn’t work out, and so we split up, and now we’re friends. Kind of.”
“Whose idea was it to go out?” I asked. “Yours or his?”
“Mine,” Lucy said evenly, looking right at me. “I liked him, as I think you were aware.”
I felt my face get hot, but at the same time, it was freeing to talk directly about the things we’d been mad about, but not ever naming, all summer. “I know,” I said. “But just for the record, Henry and I had started dating before you told me you liked him. I just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want…”
“What?” Lucy asked.
I shrugged. It seemed so stupid now, and so long ago, and yet, the ramifications of it all were still playing out, even now. “I didn’t want it to get in the way of our friendship,” I finally muttered.
“Ah,” Lucy said, nodding. Deadpan, she added, “Well, that sure worked out.” I met her eye and we both burst out laughing. “Have you told Henry this?” she asked.
“No,” I said, looking over at her. Lucy shrugged.
“It might help,” she said lightly. She gave me a look that let me know she could tell what I was thinking, even after five years, even in the semidarkness. “Just so you know, most people don’t get this upset when they find out their childhood boyfriend dated someone else,” she said. She arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m just putting that out there.”
Not really wanting to respond to this, I started walking down toward the dock again, Lucy falling into step next to me. “So,” she said after a moment. The way she hesitated, I had a feeling that she was choosing her words carefully. “Is your dad okay?”
Even though I’d had a feeling this was coming, the question still made my chest tight, like someone was clenching my heart, making it hard to breathe. “He’s sick,” I said, hating how even this simple, obvious admission made my voice waver, and made me aware that there were tears lurking behind my eyes somewhere. And that maybe they’d been there, just waiting for their chance, ever since we’d found out.
Lucy looked over at me, and I found myself incredibly grateful that she didn’t ask, “With what?,” that she somehow knew not to ask this. “He has cancer,” I said out loud for the first time. I swallowed hard and made myself go on, saying the word that I hadn’t even known a few months ago but now hated above all others. “Pancreatic.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and I could hear from her voice that she meant it. “Is he… ,” she started, then looked away from me, and I could feel her uncertainty. “I mean, will he…” She looked back at me and took a big breath. “Get better?”
I felt my face crumple a little, my chin start to tremble. I shook my head, feeling tears flood my eyes. “No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, and next to me, I could hear Lucy draw in a breath. I kept walking toward the dock, focusing on the water in the moonlight, and I tipped my head back slightly, trying not to blink. I knew that if I blinked, it would be all over. I’d be crying, and I had a feeling I might not stop for a long, long time.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “Oh, my God, Taylor, I’m so sorry. That’s just…” Her voice trailed off, as though words wouldn’t be able to describe it.
We walked on, me fighting back tears, and then I felt Lucy’s fingers brush mine as she took my hand and held it firmly in hers.
As she did this, I could feel the first hot tear hit my cheek, and then my chin was trembling, out of control again. As I looked out at the water, I realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere left to run. And I just had to stay here, facing this terrible truth. I felt, as more tears fell, just how tired I was, a tiredness that had nothing to do with the hour. I was tired of running from this, tired of not telling people, tired of not talking about it, tired of pretending that things were okay when they had never, ever been less okay. I attempted to pull my hand away, but Lucy just held it, squeezing mine hard, all the way to the end of the dock. And there was something about it—maybe the fact that she was letting me know, physically, that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere—that made me feel like I could finally just let myself cry.
When I’d pulled myself together a bit, Lucy headed back to get her kayak, dragging it across the dock. She took out the paddle and flashlight and placed the kayak on the edge of the dock. “Can I do anything?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I said, running my hand across my face. “Thanks, though.”
Lucy didn’t take the easy out, though, continuing to look at me intently. “Will you let me know if there is anything I can do?” she asked. When I nodded, she pressed, “Promise?”
“Promise,” I said. She dropped the kayak in the water and climbed in, and I handed her down the paddle and flashlight.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at me in the moonlight as she bobbed below the dock, “do you remember any of those codes we used to have?”
I felt myself smile as I thought back to all those messages we had figured out how to send each other across the water. “I think so,” I said.
“Good,” Lucy said, using the paddle to push off the dock and propel herself forward with swift, practiced strokes, the beam of her flashlight bobbing on the water. “Just stay out here for a minute, okay?”
“Okay,” I called back. She waved the paddle at me, and I sat down on the dock and watched her progress, my eyes straying only occasionally to the carving at the end of it, the inscription that joined my name with Henry’s.
When I looked back at the lake, I couldn’t see Lucy anymore, and figured she must have made it home. Just as I thought this, a beam of light flashed across the water at me. One flash, then three. Then two more, then three.
It came to me after a moment, and I felt myself smile as I translated the message she was sending me.
Good night, Taylor. I’ll see you tomorrow.
chapter twenty-three
Five summers earlier
“TAYLOR?” I LOOKED UP FROM MY LOUNGE CHAIR AND LOWERED MY dark sunglasses. Lucy was standing in front of me, wearing a bathing suit I’d never seen before, and an expression that fell somewhere between happiness and annoyance.
“Hey, Luce,” I said as I stood up and we hugged, my excitement at seeing her tempered by all the half-truths I’d been telling her about Henry, not to mention the secrets about him I’d been keeping from her. Even though I’d seen the bandanna a week and a half ago, I’d been avoiding her as much as possible. I was spending most of my time with Henry. We had carved our initials into the dock the day before. Part of me thought it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened, but another part of me kept looking across the lake, worried that Lucy would see us. She’d been calling every day, and I’d promised Warren my dessert for a month if he would make up excuses and not ask questions. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to her without telling her everything that had happened with Henry—which meant explaining that I’d never actually talked to him about her, even though almost
a month had gone by since she’d asked me.
My mother, saying that my father needed peace and quiet to work, had shooed me out of the house. Not wanting to go to the lake, I’d gone to the pool with a pair of my mother’s old sunglasses and took one of the least desirable lounge chairs, hoping to fly under the radar.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Lucy said, pulling me into another hug, and as she did, I realized with a pang just how much I’d missed her, and how she was the only person I wanted to tell about all the Henry stuff—that even my first kiss didn’t seem complete, because I hadn’t been able to discuss it with her. “We have so much to talk about,” she said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me in the direction of the concession stand.
“Where are we going?” I asked, letting myself be pulled.
“Snacks,” Lucy said, grinning at me. She pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket and waved it at me. “I think it’s guilt money. Both my parents are giving it to me. My treat.”
Lucy talked a mile a minute as we waited in line, and got Cherry Cokes and a frozen Snickers, to split. She only seemed to notice I hadn’t been saying much once we’d paid and were heading toward one of the wooden tables. “What’s been going on with you?” she asked, finally taking a breath.
I set my can down and brushed my fingers through the lines of condensation that were already starting to form on it. “Actually,” I said, a little haltingly, “there’s something I have to tell you.” Lucy smiled and leaned forward, but then she looked past me, and her smile froze, turning into something much less relaxed.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, sitting up a little straighter, a faint blush coming into her cheeks, “he’s here. Do I look okay?”