Page 19 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
“I’ll come by Granny’s tomorrow, and we can be quieter than he likes to be.”
Jeremy chimed in, his tone light. “Good lord that sounds dull. Surely you don’t want her to think you sit around all day and do nothing other than read? What if we meet in the middle? You read for a while with her, then I get to do something fun with her. This is Manhattan. We’ll find some fun that has nothing to do with food or books.”
I held up my hand. “I can’t think of a way to say this nicely, so I guess we go with awful. I can’t go out with either of you again. It’s a terrible idea. It’s pretty safe to say you’re bad for me. You’re not part of my plan to survive right now, and you can’t help, so I’m better off steering clear.”
“No.” Jeremy shook his head, the motion so adamant, it left no room for discussion. “I think you need us. Who knows, we might even need you, too. We’ll see. Regardless, by the time we start school in the fall, we’ll all be best friends.”
I sighed, frustrated with his stubbornness. “I’m not going to your school.”
He made eye contact with Julian for a second before he asked, “Why not?”
“I’m not smart enough for your school.” I didn’t feel like hashing out the details—probably not ever with them. “You don’t have to take me on like some kind of project, because it won’t matter anyway. By fall, you won’t ever see me again.”
He seemed to disregard most of my words, focusing only on that which he wanted to discuss. “Which school are you attending, then?”
Julian nudged his shoulder. “I think it’s Motifs.”
Jeremy winced. “She issonot going to Motifs.”
“Well, I’ll only be there for six months. After that, she intends to send me away to boarding school. Either way, don’t worry,Jeremy. Tops, I can only screw up your brother’s life for another eight months.”
He winced. “No. We’re friends now, so you’re not going to Motif s. I can’t see you there, and besides, you’re not screwing up his life for eight months. It’ll be for a lot longer than that.”
“You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” I stared at him, seeking even the smallest weakness. “Earlier, your vibe said you wanted to throw me out of the New York Public Library.”
Julian laughed, a joyful bubble of sound, then he tugged me to his side. “Once Jeremy is in, he sticks around. Same for me. You should get some sleep. If my brother says you’re not going to Motif s, you are absolutely not going.”
I snorted. They apparently thought they had more power than they actually did.
Instead of arguing further, though, I said, “Goodnight.”
When Julian kissed my cheek, I caught my breath. I didn’t see it coming again, when he bent his head—then his breath touched my cheek a moment before the warmth of his lips. Electricity seemed to sizzle from the point of contact outward. Even my fingertips buzzed with sensation.Wow. What was that?I still stood, shell-shocked from the kiss, when Jeremy pulled me into a hug. “You’re skittish, and you just met me, so for tonight, I’ll settle for a hug. Tomorrow, I intend to kiss your cheek. Just giving fair warning. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
My fingertips touched my cheek automatically. I wasn’t sure if it was to hold on or to wipe away the sensation of his lips on my flesh. I wondered if the cheek kissing was an Upper East Side thing, a trend that hadn’t caught on in Chicago.Maybe no one wanted to kiss me before. That was fine. I slowed my heart down, breathing slowly.
“Goodnight,” I repeated.
Turning toward the building, I braced myself for half a second. I wasn’t looking forward to Aunt Tricia’s latest lectureon my lack of gratitude or how much of a problem I caused her. If I timed it poorly enough, I could hear my cousin echo her litany over a speaker phone. I preferred it when they all left me alone. Boarding school would be a relief in that respect. As I rode the elevator to our apartment, I wished I could just sleep on Julian and Jeremy’s grandmother’s couch. The whole atmosphere there hit different. I held my breath, hoping I could make it to my room without encountering anyone.
I’d learned fear from my mother’s older sister, since even the act of leaving or arriving became dangerous at her place. With my hand on the doorknob, I reminded myself that lectures might suck, but awful came in too many degrees.I could be stuck somewhere worse.
Dark silence greeted me inside the apartment, so I blew out a sigh of relief. My aunt was probably asleep. I slipped off my shoes and tiptoed to my room, my mind replaying the night’s events.
Of course, that meant my thoughts turned to the Lent twins. My experiences with them left me with more questions than answers, more confusion than certainty.
I changed into my pajamas, the soft fabric comforting against my skin. As I brushed my teeth, my reflection in the mirror seemed to stare back with a mix of exhaustion and interest. Were my eyes brighter after tonight, even though I was tired? When had I last talked so much? Maybe the day my Mom died, when I talked to the police? After that, silence became my constant companion. Staring at my reflection, I wondered who I was in the vast city, amidst so many other complex lives. Would they change me? Was that possible?
Crawling into bed, I considered drawing onPoor Relation. I couldn’t remember the last time I fell asleep without sketching for at least a while, but my eyes drifted shut, ending art as an option.
I turned off the bedside lamp, and darkness enveloped the room. The sounds of the city, distant yet ever-present, lulled me into a restless sleep. New York provided a labyrinth of stories, and tonight, I wandered down one of the many enigmatic paths I never considered traveling down.
My last thoughts were even questions.Why am I so easily forgetting myself? Is it me or is it them?
The next morning, dressed in an outfit she picked out for me—yet still wearing my same holey shoes—I opened Dina’s book with fresh determination. I decided I would absolutely not slip any further down a hole than I already had, because it would only add more darkness to my days.
So instead, I read her words while she hummed in her bedroom. She was picking out jewelry to donate to a local charity auction—apparently, she owned a large number of pieces that could be sold to feed the animals in a nearby shelter. I wondered how she made her selections, and what she determined meant one piece should be kept over another.
I shook my head. I needed to concentrate. Reading, I let myself drift into her journal and the world she created.
