Arrows

by Melissa Gorzelanczyk

  “Thanks, but now I’m even more nervous.”

  “I can give you a back massage if you want. Here, lie down.”

  “What? Um, no, that’s okay.”

  He winked, because he’d been joking, and heat radiated through me. Juliette had always said there was a little bit of truth behind every joke. I stepped away from him, smiling, the edges of my mouth twitching. “Do you have a girlfriend?” It would be so much easier if he did. Being friends with him would be so much safer. “There has to be some lovesick girl wishing you’d come back to Florida, right?”

  He shook his head. “Hate to break the news to you, but I’m a total loser no one likes.”

  “When was your last relationship?”

  “About a month ago. This goddess—I mean, girl—I knew, she was really fun and pretty and all, but things didn’t work out. She wasn’t that nice to me. I guess we just stopped liking each other.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “I don’t know.” He reached over and moved a strand of hair from my forehead. Dust particles floated, tiny flecks of diamond. “What’s love feel like, anyway?”

  “Hmmm.” I stared at my bare feet, ugly from all those years of dancing. “I guess, I don’t know, like magic. Like a flash. All of a sudden I just knew Danny was the one.” The burn in my stomach spread into my chest.

  “And you never question things? Your feelings for him?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” The scary part was that I wanted Aaryn to know that yes, I did wonder sometimes if Danny and I would last, even when it felt painful, literally painful, to imagine a life without him.

  Admitting it, though? Dangerous. Almost like I had led him into my pond of poison that could potentially ruin everything.

  Maybe, and this was probably dumb, but maybe he was the antidote. He held out his hand and I took it. He was warm and strong as he drew me against him, his face close, too close, everything too hot. The doorknob turned.

  “You can’t be in here.” A man wearing a janitor’s uniform swung the door wide and stood back for us to leave.

  Day 39

  She was the best. No doubt in my mind. I stood in awe as Karma moved across the stage for her pointe solo, the music crisp from the speakers.

  I stole a quick glance at the judges. One judge had dropped her pen and leaned back in her seat, not even trying to conceal the fact that she was enthralled by Karma’s talent. I felt so proud. I felt like nothing in a room where she was everything. My hands actually stung from clapping when she bowed.

  “You can continue with your pas de deux,” announced a judge wearing horn-rimmed glasses, who looked as old as Zeus. Karma nodded from the stage to invite me up. Okay. I could do this.

  I climbed the stairs slowly, going over a mental checklist of what I’d learned so I wouldn’t screw up. The spotlight half blinded me. Karma gracefully led me to the center of the stage.

  “Ready?” she whispered. She angled my arms for the piece. I swallowed and tried to gaze in the direction of the judges. Were spotlights always this extreme? I focused on her hair instead, noticing that a curl had slipped from her bun. It glistened. I wanted to brush it back, pull her close, tell her how amazing she’d been.

  The light blurred and my breath caught in my throat as she began to dance around me, then lifted into position. My hands following her slender hips as she rose. She was tense; the pirouette was coming. The easy part. We’d practiced so many times.

  When she moved, my grip fumbled. My fingertips slipped down the bone of her hip as I tried to take hold again, hold of anything—the indent of her torso, her tights. She crumpled before me, it seemed, in slow motion. My frantic lunge to grab her was too late. I landed with two hands over her body.

  “Ow.” She grabbed her ankle and stared at me, inches from my face, her mouth contorted. One of the judges gasped, and from the corner of the stage I saw Juliette’s hand fly up to her mouth.

  “Please,” Karma said, voice shaking. She pushed my chest and used my wrist to pull herself up, trying to conceal a limp. “With your permission, we’d like to keep going.”

  “You’re hurt,” I said, but she turned her back to me.

  “Hold me for the lift. We can do this.” She rose on her good ankle. The last move of our piece happened so fast, her body as precise as steel against my palms, almost like she didn’t need me. She lowered to the ground and bowed. At last one of the judges found her voice.

  “That was…” Shuffling of paper. “Thank you, uh…” Whispering. “Karma Clark. Thank you. That was very brave.”

  Karma’s face flashed in the spotlight, a small smile. I tried to help her leave the stage, but she wouldn’t take my arm.

  “We have to get that ankle on ice,” Juliette said, but Karma didn’t stop. Her limp was getting worse. When we exited the auditorium, I nudged her, sliding her arm over my shoulder.

  “I’m carrying you.”

  “Put me down, I’m fine. I’ll be fine, I swear.”

  I gathered her into my arms the way you hold something very fragile, crooking my elbow beneath her knees. She weighed practically nothing.

  “Thank you, Aaryn,” Juliette announced sternly, giving Karma the eye.

  A couple of girls began whispering when we passed them, and in the background the next competitor’s music was playing.

  “I’m not mad at you,” Karma said. Her voice was muffled as she spoke against my chest.

  “You nailed your pointe solo,” Juliette said. “I’m not going to sugarcoat the fact that Aaryn fell on top of you onstage—but maybe that won’t matter.”

  “They won’t dock her for my mistake, will they? They must take into account that I’m not the one applying for the scholarship, right?”

  Juliette’s mouth pressed together. “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

  Karma felt frozen in my arms, like everything that had just happened was reaching into her, the way water turns to ice. The three of us strode forward with our heads high, though there was no way either of them felt confident. At the double doors, Juliette stood back, allowing Karma and me to move into the narrow entry, which was one of the few quiet areas in the whole place—dancers on one side of the glass, the city on the other.

  “You can put me down now,” Karma said. I brought her outside and pulled her close.

  “No.”

  The sound of traffic helped create space from the competition, almost like it was a thing we could literally leave behind us. But the truth was, none of us could.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I really screwed up. I don’t know what happened.” Her head rubbed against me, her bun coming more undone. My T-shirt felt damp.

  She was crying.

  Sorry wasn’t enough for what I’d done to her life. A taxi hurtled past, blaring its horn. I tried not to shudder, but I knew. The lead arrow was Karma’s chance for a happy ending. My throat tightened, but I couldn’t break down, not here. Not when she needed me to be strong.

  For me there was only goodbye.

  —

  “I’m taking Nell for a walk in the lobby,” Karma said. Her ankle had been iced, then wrapped. Just a minor sprain, according to the nurse practitioner the hotel had called. Karma held Nell’s face to her neck, but she bucked and cried. Karma looked like she wanted to join her.

  “I’ll come, too,” I said.

  Peyton and Monique exchanged a look. I stood from the hotel chair in the corner of Juliette’s suite, the one that had seemed like a good place to hide. The girls had all acted like everything was fine when we got to the hotel, chattering a lot, making small talk. Still. The reality of what I’d done onstage lurked in the room, like me in that chair.

  Juliette was in the bathroom with a curling iron in one hand, surrounded by the scent of really strong perfume. “Don’t forget, we’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

  “I know. I think a walk will calm her down.”

  Karma had the stroller handle in one hand, a diaper bag hooked over her sho
ulder, and a squirming baby against her chest. Her hair had loosened, and her eyes were smudged from crying earlier.

  My stomach flipped.

  “Do you want me to help?” Peyton asked, some silent best friend exchange going on between them.

  Karma shook her head. “You deserve a break. You’re the best for watching her today.”

  Peyton kissed Nell’s bright red cheek as I coaxed Karma into handing me the diaper bag. “I’ve got a key,” I said.

  The hallway felt small as we wound our way to the elevator. Nell stopped crying, which surprisingly only sharpened the awkward mood. After a few seconds of hearing nothing but the sound of our footsteps on carpet, I chuckled.

  “You were right,” I said. Nell focused on me with wide eyes, drawn by my voice. “She just needed a walk.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I swallowed and stood with my arm against the elevator door so Karma could pass, then took my place on the opposite side of the car as the display inched down floor by floor. The elevator chimed.

  “After you,” I said.

  Karma fit Nell into the stroller, adjusted the straps, and tucked a blanket over her.

  I shoved the diaper bag into the storage pocket. “I’ll push.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know you can. Let me help you.” I eased the stroller back and forth. “There’s no point in pretending you’re not mad.”

  “I’m not mad.” She frowned. “I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

  “Let me make it up to you.” I glanced at the hotel exit, which was covered in vintage scrollwork, everything all fancy. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

  Karma smiled the first real smile I’d seen in hours. “An adventure? No, we can’t. Where?”

  “I want to treat you—you and Nell. Let’s get out there and see what we find.”

  “We can’t! The girls are waiting, remember? We’re all going to dinner.”

  “I want to do something nice for you. Just us.”

  Karma looked at me like I’d read her mind. “I’m so tired of pretending everything’s great. I’m dreading that dinner.”

  “Send them a text. Tell them we’re running away but will be back in a couple of hours.”

  After a second of hesitation, Karma reached for her phone.

  —

  The city at night was noisy with traffic, couples going to dinner, groups of girls darting across the street to beat the crosswalk. Somewhere in the distance a band was playing. Nell had zonked out, which was adorable, her fist curled alongside her mouth.

  “Sometimes I wish someone would cover me up with a blanket and push me around,” Karma said.

  “Sign me up.”

  She smiled as we walked along. “I love the city.”

  “Me too.”

  “Have you ever been to New York?”

  “No. Never,” I said.

  “You have to go there sometime. It’s my favorite place in the whole world. Well, so far. I have a lot I want to see.”

  “Like what?”

  “Ireland. London. There are probably ten places on my list.”

  “Your list?”

  Karma nudged my arm and pointed to Chéri Café. “My bucket list. Look, they have outdoor seating.”

  “What’s a bucket list?”

  We stopped in front of the tall windows with white lettering arced in the center. “You know, a list of things I want to do before I die. You’ve never heard of a bucket list?”

  “No.” The fact that I wouldn’t be mortal much longer seemed like an unnecessary detail. “Table for two?” I asked the waiter. Glanced at Nell. “And a stroller?”

  We were the only couple at the café with a baby. The dining area outside was really romantic, with candles on every table and tall outdoor heaters running for warmth. There was a guy playing acoustic guitar in the corner.

  “This is perfect, thank you,” Karma told the waiter, who held the chair for her. He handed us our menus and we sat down, scanning our options.

  “I should have a bucket list,” I said. “I want to experience life to the fullest.”

  While I still can.

  I tried not to let the sad feeling creep up. Too late. Tek could come back anytime. I’d break her enchantment, insert the chip, done. I’d be gone.

  I drank my glass of ice water fast, spilling a little down my shirt. Karma rummaged for something in the diaper bag, grimacing as Nell began to fuss. She spent the next three minutes rocking the stroller until she fell asleep.

  “Okay,” she said, but not too loud, a pen in her hand. “Let’s do this.” She flattened a napkin. “Your bucket list. You tell me what to write down and I’ll make it official.” Her face looked amazing by candlelight.

  “Okay.” I paused. “I don’t know.”

  “Just think of something easy, like, hmmm—take shots of tequila until you puke.”

  “Wow.”

  “Already checked off ?”

  “I don’t drink tequila.”

  She bit the end of the pen. “Rumple Minze, then?”

  “Sometimes, I swear, you speak a different language than me.”

  “Sí, señor.”

  “Are you ready to order?” The waiter had returned. He flipped up his pad.

  “Oh, sorry, we haven’t looked at the menu yet,” Karma said.

  He seemed used to this. “Take your time.”

  We began to scan the selections, the menu blocking her face. “What’s fried fromages?” I said, holding my finger to the spot.

  “Oh, that’s just a fancy word for cheese.”

  “Fried cheese?”

  “Cheese curds.”

  “What?”

  The menu lowered four inches. “You’ve never had cheese curds?”

  “No.”

  She dropped the menu and wrote eat cheese curds on the napkin. She held it up. “You can cross something off tonight!”

  “Okay.” The list felt a little silly—but a little awesome, too. “I want to try red wine.”

  “Gross.” She watched me, then shrugged and added a second bullet point.

  “I just want to try it.” Would it taste different from the wine on Olympus? The sharp, warming drink was a tradition after a day on Earth as a cupid. Being human now, it felt like something I had to compare.

  “Well, you’re on your own with that one.” She nodded to the stroller.

  Wine was the first thing I requested when the waiter returned. He smiled at Nell, then me, and walked off with our order. Fried fromages, calamari, which was something from Karma’s bucket list, and pesto fries.

  She squeezed my arm. “I can’t believe he didn’t card you!”

  “Card me?”

  “You know, make sure you’re twenty-one. I guess he thinks you’re old.”

  “What’s so great about being twenty-one?”

  Her eyebrow went up. “It’s the legal drinking age?”

  “Oh.” I shrugged and turned my attention to the list. “What are some things we could do around Lakefield for my bucket list? Will you go to some places with me?”

  Karma took a long sip of water. “I don’t know.”

  “More adventures?”

  “Danny wouldn’t like it.” She motioned her hand between us. “You and me, spending time together?”

  “I get it.”

  “I can’t do that to him.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have to know.”

  “I’m not going to lie to him. I hate liars.”

  Guilt worked into my stomach, and not just because of how loyal she was to him. She hated liars yet was surrounded by them.

  After a few seconds she leaned toward me. “Well, like what kind of things?”

  I grinned. “How about—I want to cook a nice dinner for us. Fried fromages or something. Something fancy.”

  “There’s nothing fancy about cheese curds.”

  “Well, we’ll look up some recipes, then. Nell can come, too.”

  Karma smiled and wr
ote down the idea. “Okay.”

  My brain was really working now, taking things too far, things she’d never agree to, like kiss under the stars and spend a whole night holding each other. I cleared my throat. “I want to go camping. In a tent.”

  The pen dropped. “I can’t stay overnight in a tent with you,” she said. “That’s crossing the friendship line. We have to agree not to plan things that are crossing the line.”

  “A bonfire?”

  “Fine.”

  The ink made it official.

  “A party at the studio.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I want to have a party with everyone—Juliette, the other students, my landlord; Danny can come if he wants—everyone.”

  The waiter returned with my wine and Karma’s latte. We thanked him. From the look on Karma’s face, she really liked the party idea.

  “A celebration,” she said.

  “Yeah.” A goodbye.

  I inhaled so deep, I felt my lungs would burst. Ugh. The thought of going home was different than I’d expected, but there was no point in being sad. I had to go home, and she had to move on with her life. She’d spent more than a year loving Danny—a year chasing him—and the idea of finally giving her life back felt amazing. I tried my wine. Closed my eyes.

  “You like it?” she asked.

  I nodded. The tingle inside my mouth spread all the way to my stomach. “Cheers.”

  We clinked, her coffee mug, my wineglass, and shared a second taste.

  “Wait, so you’ve never been to a bonfire or a party before?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No bonfire. I’ve been to parties before, though. Just not with you.” I smiled.

  “You’ve had a weird life.”

  I finished the wine, feeling too warm. “I might have to move soon.”

  Her cup stopped at her chin. A woman at the table next to us laughed loudly, but Karma kept her eyes on me. “What do you mean?” Her lips parted. “Why would you do that? You just got here.”

  My pulse jumped. “Well, I don’t have a job now,” I said. She folded her hands and leaned her mouth against them. “So my dad asked me to move back to Florida. Work with him. We’ve, uh, been talking about it.”

  Karma traced the handle on her cup over and over. Our food arrived, which gave us something to do besides sulk.