“Don’t even think about it,” her mom warns. How did she know where Lily would be? And how did Felicity sneak up behind her?
Her perfectly manicured hand folds over Lily’s shoulder and pulls them back to the elevator. “Are you kidding me? You could get sick again and be here for another week, is that what you want?”
Lily can look over the top of her mom’s head by now. Did she shrink? Or did Lily grow during the time in the hotel?
Together they trail through miles of carpeted hallways back to their room. Her throat closes along with the door, and she feels as if they’ve lived in the tiny space with its large television and small beds for months instead of days. “I want to go to the grocery store, get you real food instead of ramen or powdered soup,” Mom says. “Maybe rotisserie chicken and a bowl of pasta, but you have to promise me not to jump into the hotel pool while I’m gone. You hear me?”
“Jesus,” Lily snaps. Her bones ache, and she falls back into the newly made bed. “Enough. I just want to take a nap.”
“You can’t.” Mom pushes a pile of papers into Lily’s hands. “Just downloaded and printed these. We’ll need to finish them over the weekend to catch up.”
It seems like her mom hangs over Lily for hours, stripping off the hotel comforter and sets up pillows behind her head. There’s a clutter of pens on the bedside table beside the clunky old phone and a glass of water. Mom hovers over the pile of books and papers, fussing with the assignments.
“Can you just go get me food already?” Lily is exasperated with her mom’s presence.
At last Mom picks up her red leather purse and leaves. Lily’s alone inside the room for the first time in what feels like forever.
She takes a deep breath. Already her lungs have lost capacity, shrunk from days of inactivity and weakness – another thing she’ll have to work on when she gets back to school. Lily picks up a pen, shuffles the papers together, and writes her name on the top one. It’s a series of logic problems, typical Prescot stuff, but without a group of students to field ideas and discuss solutions, the assignment seems impossible.
Forcing herself to concentrate, Lily sets up a messy chart. Her brain feels filled with static, fussy and uncoordinated. She’s delighted – and shocked – when she works out the first answer.
With slow deliberation, she fills in the sheet and slides it under the pile, a tiny victory. I am not a moron, Lily scrawls on the margin of her scratch paper.
A heavy object thumps on the wall of the room next to hers. The dull sound is followed by a crash and the quick sound of a cry, cut off by another thump.
Lily freezes, pen poised over her notebook. She hears the door open and shut with a click, followed by a series of muffled sobs.
Is it a married couple? Maybe the wife is being abused. Lily should call 911 or get help, knock on the door, ask if everything’s okay. But what if one of them gets violent, has a gun?
Or she could call the front desk and say there’s a situation on her floor and they should send a manager up to check. She might be wrong, though, and the staff would just end up wasting their time.
Although she holds her breath, the sobs stop. Lily goes back to her work, telling herself it was just a movie. Or a misunderstanding.
Besides, someone else will go and help.
She scratches her way through half a calculus assignment before the door opens. Filled with questions about the guests next door, Lily thinks for a moment it’s a guy from next-door brandishing a pistol. Instead Mom stands there with a bag in each hand, the key card balanced between two fingers. “Your face is all flushed,” she says as soon as she comes in and puts down the food on a table. “Time for a break.”
The chicken, misted with steam and butter, smells divine. Lily eats a few bites, but she can’t keep her eyes open. Is Tyler is on the campus, eating cronuts or those Tribeck’s sandwiches? Maybe he talks to another girl and tells her about his win at Nationals.
“Want to go back to school,” she mutters. “Sick of this room, this hotel, this bed. Sick of being sick.”
Mom snorts and smooths the pillow. Maybe she feels how hot it under Lily’s skin and flips it to the cool side. “Robert sent you a get-well card. He wants to display your medal from Nationals in the gym.”
Lily thinks of those cabinets in the hall filled with black and white photos of young athletes in weird little wool swimsuits, their hair parted in vicious, straight lines, dates written in white ink. Tri-State Champs, 1951. Eastern Tourney, 1963. There are players with pale legs in tiny shorts kneeling in front of a basketball court, barrel-chested wrestlers and determined women in cats’ eyeglasses, all immortalized for one shining moment of fame.
Panic spears her, and she sits up. “Do we still have my medal from Nationals? Did I lose it?” Lily doesn’t remember the trip home.
“Still got it. It’s in my backpack.”
The pillow is cool under Lily’s neck. Her mom has the medal for Robert. Nationals have been completed, and Lily is catching up on her work. Soon she’ll be back at Prescot with Tyler and her friends. Everything’s fine.
As Mom goes to pull the little zip around the pocket of her pack, maybe so she can show Lily how organized she is, there’s a flat buzz from the bedside table.
A text.
Nice job on third place. How does it feel to be insignificant? No one likes you, not in Prescot or Jersey either. Why didn’t you just die while you were sick, bitch?
6
“Lily’s back!
“Hey, baby girl.”
“Oh my God get your ass over here right now!”
Staci and Haddigan bombard Lily from either side so she’s bracketed between two warm bodies. Staci, as usual, forgets she’s right next to Lily’s ear. “I missed you so much, oh my god, never get sick again.” She gets even louder when she’s excited.
“Ow.” Lily rubs her ear and hugs them, one after the other. “So what’s up?”
“Are you kidding?” Haddigan loops her arm through Lily’s elbow and drags her across the mossy sidewalks of the campus towards Prescot’s class buildings. “How’re you feeling?” Before Lily can answer, Haddigan bubbles about the recent meet. “You got third in finals. Nationals. Finals. Third. You placed. Like, how are you even real? Are you kidding me right now? Your name’s popped up on coaches’ laptops all over the country. Bet you start to get calls next year from colleges.”
Lily tries to protest it was only third place and she doesn’t remember much anyway, but Haddigan’s right. In fact, Mom’s told her Glasbury University has already reached out and wants to set up a meeting next summer. She’ll be a junior, a cloudy version of herself who doesn’t exist yet. “How behind am I in all my classes?” she asks. It’s easier to change the subject.
“Depends.” Staci launches into a long description of an essay for American Literature and the calculus quiz. Lily realizes she’s managed to keep up and will even pull decent grades if she does extra homework for the next few weeks. It’ll depend on sneaking in more homework after lights’ out and hoping she doesn’t keep Yasmin awake.
Lily asks if anyone’s seen her roommate. Staci shrugs, says they haven’t ran into Yasmin too much lately. “I think she went on a ski trip with her parents over break,” Haddigan adds.
“A ski trip? It’s April!”
“They flew to Chile. The Andes. Her family’s filthy rich, you know. Oil money,” Staci explains.
“Oh. Huh.” There’s just enough time to go and get a snack before class. Food is far more important than her roommate’s social status. “I’m starving. Still have to catch up after a week of no food. See you guys at evening practice, okay?”
After another round of hugs she breaks free and joins the long line in the café. She’s able to snag a bag of cronuts and head over to class.
“I know one of those is for me.”
Tyler’s voice is rich and low. It buzzes in Lily’s ear to reach a hidden layer she is just discovering: a trembling, breathless spot no o
ne’s ever accessed before him.
“Sure.” She has to keep it simple, friendly. It’s easy to hold out the bag and turn away as he takes a cronut and bites into it.
“Your mom tell you I stopped by?” Tyler’s tongue swipes over his lips.
Lily nearly trips, and she feels hot blood flush her cheeks. “Yeah, I meant to tell you thanks for doing that. No, seriously, you were a lifesaver. I talked to Staci and Haddigan – you know them, right? They’re both on the team – and I realized I’m not too far behind in class. Thanks to you. And those books you brought.” Lily bites into her cronut to stop more dumb words spilling out of her mouth.
“Well, you know. I try.” Tyler goes off on a tangent and explains how he stood up for a buddy when no one else would talk to him. It’s a long story about a girl passed out a party, and a guy who posted pictures of her on Instagram. “He just kissed her,” he insists.
Lily should argue with him, since it sounds pretty shady, but she doesn’t know the people involved. By this point they’re inside Dawson. The strap on her backpack slips, and she hitches it up. “Uh, see you later,” she says.
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t move. Lily senses he expects her to do something, but she doesn’t know what it is. It’s like an imminent failure, and she can’t do anything to stop it.
“Ty? Is everything okay?” Lily hears the uncertainty in her voice, and she flushes.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head – a brief, alien motion. “You’re not meeting him anymore, right?”
For a second she has no idea what he means. “James? Is that what you mean?”
Tyler steps closer. “Forget about him. You and me,” he insists. “We’re gonna eat dinner and hang out before you catch up on homework. I don’t want you spending your time with anyone else.”
He isn’t asking. It’s a demand. Lily’s about to protest when he turns on one heel and walks off, chin up and shoulders tilted back. She’s never met anyone so confid
◆◆◆
“Look at this.” James slides his laptop over to Lily, and she cranes her neck to see it. They’re in the library to prep for the quiz.
Tyler doesn’t know about the study group. After his demands she figures it’s probably better not to mention it. Lily tells herself he’s too busy to care as he prepares for graduation and college.
Instead of the War of 1812 research they’re supposed to read, James has found an Instagram account of a girl she doesn’t recognize. “What?” Lily reads through the updates, frowning. Tracy is the name on the account. “She’s a swimmer from New Jersey. Uh, okay, but why are you showing me this?”
“Look.” James scrolls on the touchpad and points at the screen.
Last night with TyTy! So sweet.
At dinner with Tyler #MyMan
Planning for the future #engagementring #wedding
Okay, I’m sorry I posted those pictures. I had no idea you’d get so upset. Please forgive me, baby. I didn’t mean to make you mad. Please take me back.
The pictures are typical: a girl with dark blond hair in swim gear, big smile on her face. Tyler stands behind her, long fingers spanning her hips. It’s followed by clip art of brides and diamond rings. The last image, though, shows Tracy in close up, face scarred with tears. The girl holds up a small, deadly object in one hand – a razor blade.
Lily closes her eyes. “What does this have to do with me? So Tyler had a deranged girlfriend. We all have a past. Nothing I can do about it, although of course I hope the poor thing is okay and didn’t hurt herself.”
She’s babbling. It’s like her brain has stopped working but her mouth hasn’t received the message.
James sits back in the chair. “I know. It’s the final update, though. There’s nothing else from her. And - this.” He clicks on the picture and points to Tyler’s comment.
Tracy - we are done. You’re a loser. Go kill yourself. Leave me the fuck alone.
Lily’s forehead is slicked with sweat. “He might not have posted that message himself. Maybe he was hacked.”
Her voice wobbles with indecision. What the hell should she do? After all, she’s also the victim of online bullying. Still, there’s no way to help this Tracy person.
It’s all ancient history by this point, or so she tells herself.
◆◆◆
“Can’t believe you gave Prescot your medal.” Tyler shakes his head, leans back against the wall, and pushes a few fries into his mouth.
They sit in their usual window ledge. Lily has no idea when it became ‘theirs,’ but no one tries to join them anymore when they’re together. It’s as though she and Tyler are in their own bubble, invisible to the crowd of sleek, beautiful students around them.
She nods. Of course the medal goes to Prescot. It’s expected all sports triumphs should bedazzle the halls of the gym, like estate diamonds on the wrinkled neck of a feisty old lady. “Is yours there too?” Lily asks around mouthfuls of chicken Alfredo.
“No way. Mine’s in my room at home. What? Don’t look at me like that. I’m the one who swam the heat, busted my ass to get gold. Nobody’s gonna touch my medal except me and my dad.”
“But Robert said…”
“Robert can fuck off.” Tyler leans back and props one bent elbow on his knee. “The guy can’t touch me. Besides, I already got my scholarship.”
“I know, but don’t you want to go down in school history?” Lily remembers the black and white photos, the players in their old-fashioned uniforms.
“No one pays attention to that stuff. You know what I see in those cases? A bunch of sad, old memories no one even bothers to dust anymore. The only people who look at them are the athletes or their families, and one day they’ll die out. Then it’s all going to turn into junk behind glass.”
Lily puts her loaded fork onto the tray and pushes the slice of apple pie towards him. “Here. You have it.”
Tyler scoops up a large spoonful while Lily finds a napkin and wipes her mouth. She pulls out her phone and swipes through the latest slew of texts while he eats: Yasmin wants to know when Lily will come back to their dorm room and if she intends to unpack the luggage all over the floor and bed. Vincent, Lily’s little brother, says HELLO in all caps, surrounded with exclamation points and smiley emoticons. The single word brings Vincent to mind as though he stands in front of her, all whipcord energy and eager motion. She texts him back: Hi, I miss your silly face.
“What’s up?” Tyler has abandoned the pie, and he cranes his neck to see her phone.
Lily holds out the phone to show him. “Vincent. My brother. Wish he could have come to Nationals with us.”
“Huh. I’m an only child. Means I get all the attention.” He raises and lowers his eyebrows. She’s intrigued by the tiny gesture and leans forward to get her phone back, but he scrolls through her apps. “No, wait! I want to see what games you have. What, no Fallout 4? No Zombie Highway?”
“Give me my phone.” Lily grabs for it, unable to hide the laughter in her voice.
He holds it up over her head and keeps scrolling. “Flat Pigs! You kidding me? I beat it months ago.”
“But I’m so close to getting a full side of bacon.”
“Do you even hear yourself? Bacon!” He snorts. “Actually, bacon is always pretty good.” Tyler still checks out her phone. As she reaches out for it again, he taps on the screen and tosses it to her. “There. If you want it so badly.”
The phone nearly slips through her hands to drop on the marble floor. Lily’s blood boils. “Hey! You wanna be careful with my damn phone?”
Tyler jumps down from the windowsill and picks up their trays of food. “Let’s take a walk.” It’s like he hasn’t even heard her or, if he has, he’s refused to acknowledge her words.
She can’t think clearly. Blood pounds in her ears. Around them the students laugh and talk. Their lives are stabilized by stocks, bonds, and trust funds. It’s tempting to escape Tyler and join them, but her knees shake and her eyes can’t focus. Evenin
g practice has been almost impossible after days spent in bed. Maybe her temperature isn’t back to normal after her fever, because she doesn’t seem to have control over herself. Lily follows Tyler out of the dining hall and out into the night, splintered with cold even though it’s May. Her stomach bubbles, still slightly queasy.
Tyler doesn’t look back to see if she’s behind him. He heads towards the campus ringed with academic buildings and dormitories. Yasmin is up there in their bedroom, waiting for Lily to come and clean up the mess.
Not happening. Instead, Lily’s about to create an even bigger one.
It’s no surprise when she walks right into Tyler’s long arms where he waits in the shadow of one of the campus oaks. He’s a warm island in the chill of the night, and she tips up her head to look at the smooth skin of his neck. At the same moment he looks down, and their noses bump. The kiss seems so natural – short and lovely.
Tyler hums when his tongue brushes hers. There’s soft breath on Lily’s cheek, and she can smell his masculine, clean scent. For the rest of her life, spring nights will evoke this particular smell, of soap and warm, athletic male.
It lasts for a few heartbeats. Their lips part, and Lily’s lashes flutter open. Tyler stares down at her, one brow raised, eyes dark and intense on hers.
He raises his hand to brush one knuckle against her jaw. At the touch, Lily feels she has to step away before her mind spins off into the leaves and branches.
If not, she’ll end up doing a walk of shame. In her fifteen years, no other kiss has been so gentle or, she thinks, so memorable.
“Huh,” she says. “Nice.”
“Yeah, well. No more dates with James or Jimbo or whatever his name is. I heard about your little library interlude the other night. Don’t do it again.” With a quick wave good-bye, Tyler grins and lopes off into the darkness.
Lily steals a few minutes for herself to breathe in the night and taste Tyler on her mouth. There’s a bunch of stuff she has to get to. She has to read a short story for Am Lit and go over the latest physics homework, unpack, talk to Yasmin and make sure everything’s okay between them.
A Cold and Quiet Place Page 6
