“Maybe he would. Maybe he didn’t expect to kiss you that night. It’s probably a lot for him to deal with.”
“I know he didn’t expect to kiss me.” Aubrey shook her head. “Because it was a mistake.”
“Look, I know this seriously sucks, but”—Rae blew another bubble—“maybe what you need to do is give him space. Let him work this shit out by himself. If he still doesn’t want to be your friend, forget him.”
Aubrey pressed her hands to the wall—she was surprised by how cool it was. “I can’t forget him,” she said shakily. “I can’t forget any of you.”
Rae didn’t speak for a moment, her expression full of sympathy. “Dude. I never said anything about forgetting me.”
That made Aubrey laugh, and the panic inside her loosened a little. She looked out at the busy bars and clubs of Paris, and it occurred to her that maybe Rae was right—maybe she was trying too hard to make things how she wanted them to be. Maybe she needed to leave Gabe alone.
Give him space.
The door to the club burst open, and a group of people emerged. Behind them was Clara, her face falling when she saw Aubrey. “What happened?” she asked. “You look so bummed out.”
“I’m fine.” Aubrey pushed herself off the wall and smiled. Because, for that moment at least, it felt true.
8
Rae
Sunday, July 3
PARIS to AMSTERDAM
The train from Paris to Amsterdam left late at night, so it was completely dark out as they made their way between countries. Rae sat by herself, a sketchbook open in her lap, tapping her pen against the page. Gabe and Clara were across the aisle from her, and Aubrey and Jonah were in the row in front, all of them asleep.
Rae kept tapping her pen. And she kept thinking about yesterday. She thought about how she’d told Aubrey to leave Gabe alone, and she thought about how unbelievably stupid that was. Of course Aubrey shouldn’t leave Gabe alone! Rae should have told her to kick his ass for saying he didn’t want to be friends anymore.
No. Actually, Rae should be the one kicking his ass. She was Aubrey’s best friend—that kind of stuff was her job.
Clara slid into the free seat beside her, kicking off her flip-flops and pulling up her legs. “What are you working on?” she asked.
Rae looked over in shock. “Nothing,” she said. “Well, nothing serious.” Which was true—so far, it was only a few rough palm trees and the skeleton of a boat floating on a river.
“No, it’s perfect.” Clara leaned over the paper to get a better look. Her hair was pulled into a side braid with a few strands that must have fallen loose while she slept. Rae could smell the orange and raspberry perfume Clara always wore. That morning, she’d put some on standing in front of the hotel mirror, and it had lingered in the room until they had to leave.
“What about you?” Rae cleared her throat. “What have you been doing?”
“Sleeping. But I should be sketching like you. I have this idea for a series of mermaid-themed dresses—real mermaid dresses, with glittery tails and seashells sewn into them and everything. But I don’t know. I think maybe it’s a little over the top.”
“That’s still cool,” Rae said.
Clara sighed. “I keep imagining myself walking in on the first day of school and just… not knowing what to do. Not even knowing how to use a pen or a pair of scissors.”
“Never gonna happen.” Rae shifted so her back was against the window. The train hummed against her skin.
“Maybe I’ll have to transfer,” Clara said. “My parents would love that. Where do you think I should go? Somewhere else in California, right?”
Rae tossed the cap of her pen at her. “Stop being so negative. You’re not going to transfer. I won’t allow it.”
“What are you two talking about?” Aubrey sat up in front of them.
“Oh my God,” Rae said. “Wasn’t everyone asleep, like, two seconds ago?”
“I was.” Aubrey yawned. “But your mom keeps texting me. She told me to tell you to turn on your phone.”
“My phone is turned on. It’s also on silent.”
“So tell her yourself.”
Rae took out her phone and saw a series of photographs that Lucy had been sending her, all of them of an apartment decorated with sea-green furniture and vases of white flowers. The text read: Melbourne apartment. Could rent for all of December. What do you think???
Rae typed back, yeah, mom, looks cool.
Her mom’s response: NOT ENTHUSIASTIC ENOUGH!
YEAH, MOM! LOOKS COOL! Rae tossed the phone back in her bag.
“I still can’t believe it,” Clara said. “In less than two weeks, you’ll be in Australia. You’re going to have the coolest life.”
“I’m spending the next six months with my mom,” Rae said. “How is that the coolest life?”
“Lucy’s cool,” Aubrey said. “She’s definitely cooler than my parents.” There was a whooshing sound as someone opened the door connecting their carriage to the next. It closed, and the train went quiet again.
“And mine,” Clara said. “The most fun pre-college activity we have planned is making Rose come from Stanford so we can all go shopping at Bed Bath & Beyond.”
“Sure,” Rae said. “But that’s because your parents are reasonable adults.”
Aubrey reached over to prod Rae’s shoulder. “Lucy’s an adult.”
“She was nineteen when I was born.”
“So?” Aubrey poked her again. “She raised you by herself. She moved you back to London, and now she’s moving you to Australia. You can’t diss that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rae said, pretending to be exasperated. But honestly, she knew Aubrey was right. Her parents had dated for a while when they were both students at the University of Georgia, but they were never serious, and her dad was firmly out of the picture long before Rae was born. And here was the truth: Rae was fine with that. She liked the weird life she had with her mom—their house full of junk, and Lucy’s tiny antique store, and the small studio space in their guesthouse where Rae would sit with Iorek and do homework while her mom painted.
“Anyway.” Clara’s eyes went mischievous. “Rae just wants her mom out of the picture so she can find an Australian girl to fall in loooove with.”
“Well,” Aubrey said, “that’s definitely true.”
“Ugh.” Rae slid down against the window. “Why does everyone really enjoy making fun of me?”
“We’re not making fun of you,” Clara said. “We’re talking about how much crush potential is in your very near future.”
“Remember the California art-school guys?” Rae said. “Can’t we talk about them?”
Clara waved one hand to the side. “But I want to talk about Melbourne girls. Hot, artsy Melbourne girls with cute accents and tattoos.”
“Not my type,” Rae said dismissively. But the thing was, she had wondered about this before: What would happen if she met someone in Australia? Before Clara, she actually used to like having crushes. She liked the butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling whenever she ran into one of them; she liked the rush she felt every time they had a conversation or not-so-accidentally touched. And she liked obsessing over those crushes with her friends—texting Aubrey the second she saw Jane Carpenter at an art supply store in Covent Garden, or running up to Clara’s locker sophomore year when she’d just had a five-minute conversation with the pretty senior girl in her ceramics class. This was another reason Australia was a good thing. Distance would help her get over Clara, and then she could finally be open with her friends again.
The train started to slow down.
“You’ll see,” Clara said. “You’re going to meet so many cool girls. Way cooler than the entire population of LAS combined.”
“Oh yeah. I can already see it,” Rae deadpanned. “Get in line, ladies.”
Clara tipped her head to the side as a few people in surrounding seats began to get up and stretch. She seemed to be contemplating something. �
�Rae,” she said, “you do realize you’re kind of a babe, right?”
Rae’s pulse raced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a question form on Aubrey’s face. And seriously, she had no idea what to make of any of this. Was Clara flirting with her? Had Aubrey noticed? Rae knew how to handle flirting, but she had no clue how to handle flirting with Clara.
In front of Aubrey.
She racked her brain, trying to come up with something to say, but luckily, she didn’t have to.
The train let out one final breath before clunking to a stop.
They’d arrived in Amsterdam.
9
Aubrey
Monday, July 4
AMSTERDAM
Aubrey woke up at seven AM, worrying about Rae.
She turned over in her bunk and let her eyes adjust to the hostel room around her—the triangle of light filtering between the curtains, the banged-up set of dresser drawers, the bunk bed where Clara and Rae were curled up under polka-dotted sheets. They hadn’t arrived until after midnight, so Aubrey knew she should still be tired, but she wasn’t. She’d slept fitfully, obsessing over how weird and distant Rae had acted when they’d brought up Australia on the train.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Rae was keeping something from her. Something about Australia? Something about leaving? Aubrey tossed and turned. Rae was so evasive when it came to college. The first time she’d told Aubrey she was considering Melbourne, she’d sounded uninterested in the whole idea. Like it was no big deal to her. Like she would be living in a separate state rather than a separate hemisphere.
Aubrey pushed back her covers and climbed down the ladder of her bunk, bare feet padding along the cold linoleum floor as she went to sit on Rae’s bed. “Wake up,” she said. “We’re in Amsterdam.”
Rae smashed her face into her pillow. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t you want coffee?” Aubrey asked. “Or waffles? I bet they have waffles in Amsterdam.”
“Why are you awake right now? It’s evil and it’s wrong.”
Aubrey’s eyes fell to a spot on the wooden bedpost where someone had scratched two sets of initials inside a heart. She traced her thumb over the indents, feeling a little let down that Rae didn’t want to hang out with her. Feeling a little like it was a sign that Rae was already pulling away, growing distant.
“Fine,” Aubrey said. “I’m going to take a shower.” She grabbed her toiletry bag and some clothes and slipped into the hallway. The bathroom was quiet this early in the morning, and she watched as steam clouded up the light fixtures above her. She let herself think about how much she was going to miss Rae. Soon, she wouldn’t automatically know everything that was going on in her best friend’s life. She wouldn’t be a fixed part of her world anymore. It was like they were both speeding toward a dead end. Like the ground was slipping out from under their feet.
She banged her elbow on the shower’s narrow walls, then stared at the dingy tile and considered how germ-ridden it must be. This was nothing like the spacious shower in the hotel in Paris—it was probably more like the one she would have to deal with in her dorm in New York.
When the water ran cold, Aubrey turned it off and changed into the T-shirt and shorts she’d hung on the back of the stall door. Her dark hair dripped as she combed it out and then put on sunscreen. When she left the bathroom, she instantly walked into Gabe. He stumbled backward, and so did she, toiletries spilling out of her bag.
She ducked down to pick them up. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Not your fault.” Gabe leaned over to help, their heads bending toward each other. “So”—she neatly arranged all her tiny bottles of shampoo and soap—“what are you doing here?”
“Showering,” he said. “Or I was about to. In—um—the bathroom.”
They stood again, Gabe holding her conditioner now, and Aubrey clutching her toothbrush to her chest. He was wearing only boxer shorts and a T-shirt, so she concentrated on the wall beside her, which had a flyer on it advertising an outdoor music festival.
“Gabe?” she said.
“Yeah?” He shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable.
“Um, you still have my conditioner—”
On the floor above them, a door banged open. In the nearest room, Aubrey could hear someone strumming an acoustic guitar. But her thoughts were louder than anything else: Leave him alone. Give him space. “Anyway”—she grabbed the conditioner from him—“thank you.” And then she ran all the way back to her room.
Aubrey yanked back the curtains and shoved open the window to let in the morning noise.
Clara whimpered and pulled the covers over her head, but Rae barely moved. Neither of them got up.
This was starting to piss Aubrey off. They only had one full day in Amsterdam, and they needed to make the most of it. Her phone buzzed and she lunged for it, desperate for someone to talk to. It was a text from Jonah. He was downstairs and wanted to know if she was awake yet. She grabbed her key and left the room before she’d even replied.
Their hostel sat on the edge of the Vondelpark, and Aubrey opened the front door to see tall, skinny trees and scrubby purple wildflowers, with a rush of bikes clipping past it all.
Jonah was sitting on the front steps, playing with his phone. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, and he was wearing a forest-green shirt—a really cute one that matched the color of his eyes. He stood up when he saw her and handed over a small paper cup. “Good morning,” he said. “They had free coffee in the lobby.”
Aubrey sipped it and coughed.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you: It’s pretty gross.”
“Yeah.” She tried to swallow the burnt taste in her mouth. “You definitely should have.”
“So, guess what?” He bounced up and down on his heels. “I’ve been looking stuff up, and I’ve come up with a whole plan for today. And I know exactly where we should go first.”
“You came up with a plan?”
“Yeah, you’re not the only one here who can make plans.”
She felt her mood lift. “Clearly.”
They threw their cups in the trash and made their way through the park. Past lush green lawns and small lakes and dainty, idyllic gazebos. It all looked like something from a tourist brochure. Aubrey could picture herself doing this kind of thing soon in New York—probably in Central Park. She and Jonah would crunch over autumn leaves or go ice-skating before winter break or bring a picnic in the spring and do their homework in the sunshine.
They’d been walking for about twenty minutes when they reached a clearing taken over by a group of treehouses, all of them balanced on stilts with rope bridges and ladders hanging from their sides. It was the first part of the park they’d been to that was completely empty.
“What do you think?” Jonah said. “It’s rad, right?”
“Is it a playground?” Aubrey asked.
“A treehouse playground. Don’t you wish you’d had a place like this when you were a kid?”
Aubrey eyed one of the rope ladders. “I was actually pretty afraid of heights.”
“Somehow, I’m unsurprised by that.” Jonah nudged her shoulder. “Okay. Follow me.”
The ladder creaked and shuddered under his weight while Aubrey stood at the bottom, hands braced on the rung in front of her. Of all the things that might happen to her before college, death by horrible treehouse accident wasn’t her favorite option. The ladder slackened when Jonah reached the top. “You have to come up,” he called down to her.
“This seems unsafe,” she called back, gripping the rope as she climbed. “Maybe we’re not supposed to be here.”
“We’re definitely not supposed to be here. We’re not child-size anymore.” He scooted out of her way so she could crawl inside. The walls of the small room were made of slats of wood that let in long stripes of light, and the sanded floor was covered in a layer of sawdust. Even on her hands and knees, Aubrey had to duck so her head wouldn’
t hit the low ceiling.
“See?” Jonah sat back. “Told you I’m full of plans.”
Aubrey tipped her head to watch a burst of sun appear between two slats. Silhouettes of leaves shivered against one another. “I can’t believe everyone is missing this,” she said.
“I don’t think we’d all fit.”
“No, I know. It’s just—I thought we’d all go out together this morning. See the sights. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”
Jonah shrugged. “I guess they’re still tired.”
“I guess.” Aubrey sat beside him. She wanted to tell him about the feeling she’d woken up with—the feeling that Rae was keeping something from her. The feeling that, when Rae left, Aubrey might begin to lose her best friend. But she couldn’t get into all that with Jonah. The nuances of girl friendships tended to confuse him.
“Aubs.” Jonah leaned over to tug on a strand of her hair. “Don’t worry so much.”
“I’m not worrying.”
He tugged her hair again. “You’re always worrying.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Anyway,” he said, “maybe we don’t want anyone else here.”
Aubrey looked over at his teasing eyes, at the small, adorable lines that appeared by the sides of his mouth whenever he smiled. She realized that, for the first time in a while, they were alone. Not the way they’d been that first night in Paris. Not vomiting and alone. But alone alone. The treehouse was dark and cool, and Jonah was brushing his fingers through the ends of her hair.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” he said.
“In a treehouse?”
“No.” His voice went low; he seemed to get shy. “By ourselves. First thing in the morning.”
She moved toward him; their mouths touched. And in that single breath, all of Aubrey’s anxiety faded away. The tiny room was crowded with the two of them, so she moved one leg over his lap, and he pulled her closer. The bottom of her T-shirt slid against the bottom of his. Her hands traveled into his hair….
The Summer of Us Page 6
