“OUCH!”
Étienne snaps at him, and the boy lets go. Étienne’s fingers wrap around my hair and gently work the cloth and string and wood from it. He hands the boat back to the boy and says something else, this time in a softer voice, hopefully warning him to keep the boat away from innocent bystanders. The boy clutches his toy and runs away.
I wring out my hair. “Ugh.”
“That’s very clean water.” He grins.
“Sure it is.” But I love how he knows what I’m thinking.
“Come on.” He stands and offers his hand. I take it, and he helps me up. I expect him to drop it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leads me to a safe spot away from the pool.
It’s nice holding hands. Comfortable.
I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I’m not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it. We sit in the grass underneath a canopy of pink blossoms. I glance around for the Grass Police in their little conductor hats, always eager to remove citizens from the lawns, but I don’t see them. Étienne is a good-luck charm when it comes to this sort of thing. My hair drips through the back of my shirt but, somehow, it’s not so bad right now.
We are still holding hands.
Okay, we should let go. This is the point where it would be normal to let go.
Why aren’t we letting go?
I force my gaze to the Grand Bassin. He does the same.We’re not watching the boats. His hand is burning, but he doesn’t let go. And then—he scoots closer. Just barely. I glance down and see the back of his shirt has crawled up, exposing a slice of his back. His skin is smooth and pale.
It’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen.
He shifts again, and my body answers with the same. We’re arm against arm, leg against leg. His hand crushes mine, willing me to look at him.
I do.
Étienne’s dark eyes search mine. “What are we doing?” His voice is strained.
He’s so beautiful, so perfect. I’m dizzy. My heart pounds, my pulse races. I tilt my face toward his, and he answers with an identical slow tilt toward mine. He closes his eyes. Our lips brush lightly.
“If you ask me to kiss you, I will,” he says.
His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames.
“Kiss me,” I say.
He does.
We are kissing like crazy. Like our lives depend on it. His tongue slips inside my mouth, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like I’ve ever experienced, and I suddenly understand why people describe kissing as melting because every square inch of my body dissolves into his. My fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer. My veins throb and my heart explodes. I have never wanted anyone like this before. Ever.
He pushes me backward and we’re lying down, making out in front of the children with their red balloons and the old men with their chess sets and the tourists with their laminated maps and I don’t care, I don’t care about any of that.
All I want is Étienne.
The weight of his body on top of mine is extraordinary. I feel him—all of him—pressed against me, and I inhale his shaving cream, his shampoo, and that extra scent that’s just . . . him. The most delicious smell I could ever imagine.
I want to breathe him, lick him, eat him, drink him. His lips taste like honey. His face has the slightest bit of stubble and it rubs my skin but I don’t care, I don’t care at all. He feels wonderful. His hands are everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that his mouth is already on top of mine, I want him closer closer closer.
And then he stops. Instinct. His body is rigid.
“How could you?” a girl cries.
chapter thirty-nine
My first thought is Ellie.
Ellie found us, and she’s going to strangle me with her bare hands, right here, with the puppeteer and carousel horses and beekeepers all as witnesses. My throat will turn purple, and I’ll stop breathing, and I’ll die. And then she’ll go to prison and write Étienne psychotic letters on parchment made from dried skin for the rest of his life.
But it’s not Ellie. It’s Meredith.
Étienne springs off me. She turns her head away, but not before I notice that she’s crying. “Mer!” She runs away before I can say anything else. I look at Étienne, and he’s rubbing his head in disbelief.
“Shite,” he says.
“Shite is right,” Rashmi says. I’m startled to discover she and Josh are here, too.
“Meredith.” I moan. “Ellie.” How could we let this happen? He has a girlfriend, and we both have a friend who is in love with him—the secret that isn’t a secret and never has been.
Étienne jumps to his feet. His shirt is covered with dried grass. And then he’s gone. He races after Meredith, shouting her name. He disappears behind a copse of trees, and Josh and Rashmi are talking, but I don’t comprehend their words.
Did Étienne just leave me? For Meredith?
I can’t swallow. My throat is closing. Not only have I been caught with someone I had no right to be kissing—and not only was it the greatest moment of my life—but he’s rejecting me.
In front of everyone.
There’s a hand in front of me, and in a daze, I follow it to its wrist, its elbow, its skull-and-crossbones tattoo, its shoulder, its neck, its face. Josh. He grips my hand and helps me stand. My cheeks are wet, and I don’t even remember starting to cry.
Josh and Rashmi don’t speak as they steer me onto a bench. They let me blubber about how I don’t know how it happened, and I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and please don’t tell Ellie. How I can’t believe I did that to Mer, and she’ll never talk to me again, and I’m not surprised Étienne ran away because I am so, so awful. The worst.
“Anna. Anna,” Josh interrupts. “If I had a euro for every stupid thing I’ve done, I could buy the Mona Lisa. You’ll be fine. You’ll both be fine.”
Rashmi crosses her arms. “Your lips weren’t the only ones working out there.”
“Meredith, she’s so,” I choke. “Nice.” Again, that word. So inadequate. “How could I do that to her?”
“Yeah. She is,” Rashmi says. “And that was pretty crappy of you guys to do that just now. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking, it just happened. I’ve ruined everything. She hates me. Étienne hates me!”
“St. Clair definitely doesn’t hate you,” Josh says.
“Though if I were Mer, I’d hate him.” Rashmi scowls. “He’s been leading her on for way too long.”
Josh is indignant. “He’s never once given her the impression that he liked her more than a friend.”
“Yeah, but he’s never discouraged her!”
“He’s been dating Ellie for a year and a half.You’d think that’d be discouragement enough—oh. Sorry, Anna.”
I sob harder.
They stay with me on the bench until the sunlight dips behind the trees, and then they walk me from le jardin back to Résidence Lambert. When we arrive, the lobby is empty. Everyone is still out enjoying the nice weather.
“I need to talk to Mer,” I say.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Rashmi says. “Give her time.”
I slink into my room, scolded, and pull out my key.The night I lost it, I’d just left it in my room. The Beatles thump from the wall between Mer and me, and I remember my first night here. Is “Revolution” covering the sound of her crying? I tuck the key back into my shirt and flop onto my bed. I pop up and pace my room, and then lie back down.
I don’t know what to do.
Meredith hates me. Étienne has disappeared, and I don’t know if he likes me or hates me or thinks he made a mistake or what. Should I call him? But what would I say? “Hi, this is Anna. The girl you made out with in the park and then ditched?You wanna hang out?” But I have to know why he left. I have to know what he thinks about me. My hand shakes as I put my phone to my ear.
Straight to voice mail. I look at my ceiling. Is he up there?
I can’t tell. Mer’s music is too loud to hear footsteps, so I’ll have to go up. I check my reflection. My eyes are puffy and red, and my hair looks like an owl pellet.
Breathe. One thing at a time.
Wash your face. Brush your hair. Brush your teeth, for good measure.
Breathe again. Open door.Walk upstairs. My stomach churns as I knock on his door. No one answers. I press my ear against the drawing of him in the Napoleon hat, trying to hear inside his room. Nothing. Where is he? Where IS he?
I go back to my floor, and John Lennon’s scratchy voice is still blasting down the hall. My feet slow as I pass her room. I have to apologize, I don’t care what Rashmi says, but Meredith is furious when she opens her door. “Great. It’s you.”
“Mer . . . I’m so sorry.”
She gives a nasty laugh. “Yeah?You looked really sorry with your tongue lodged down his windpipe.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel so helpless. “It just happened.”
Meredith clenches her hands, which are oddly ring-free. She’s not wearing any makeup either. In fact, she’s completely disheveled. I’ve never seen her look anything but polished before. “How could you, Anna? How could you do this to me?”
“I ... I ...”
“You what? You knew how I felt about him! I can’t believe you!”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I don’t know what we were thinking—”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not choosing either one of us.”
My heart stops. “What? What do you mean?”
“He chased me down.Told me he wasn’t interested.” Her face reddens. “And then he went to Ellie’s. He’s there right now.”
Everything turns hazy. “He went to Ellie’s?”
“Just like he always does when there’s trouble.” Her voice changes to smug. “Now how does it feel? Not so hot anymore, huh?” And then she slams her door in my face.
Ellie. He’s choosing Ellie. Again.
I run to the bathroom and yank up the toilet lid. I wait to lose my lunch, but my stomach just churns, so I put the lid back down and sit on it. What’s wrong with me? Why do I always fall for the wrong guy? I didn’t want Étienne to be another Toph, but he is. Only it’s so much worse because I only liked Toph.
And I love Étienne.
I can’t face him again. How could I possibly face him again? I want to go back to Atlanta, I want my mom.The thought shames me. Eighteen-year-olds shouldn’t need their mother. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but suddenly I’m aware of irritated sounds in the hallway. Someone bangs on the door.
“God, are you gonna be in there all night?”
Amanda Spitterton-Watts. As if things could get any worse.
I check my reflection. My eyes look like I’ve mistaken cranberry juice for Visine, and my lips are swollen like wasp stings. I turn the faucet marked froid and splash cold water on my face. A scratchy paper towel to dry, and then I hide my face with my hand as I escape to my room.
“Hello, bulimic,” Amanda says. “I heard you, you know.”
My back bristles. I turn, and her pale eyes widen in innocence over her beaky nose. Nicole is here, too, along with Rashmi’s sister Sanjita, and . . . Isla Martin, the petite, red-haired junior. Isla lags behind. She’s not a part of their crowd, just someone waiting in line for the bathroom.
“She was totally puking her dinner. Look at her face. She’s disgusting.”
Nicole sniggers. “Anna always looks disgusting.”
My face burns, but I don’t react because that’s what Nicole wants. I can’t, however, ignore her friend. “You didn’t hear anything, Amanda. I’m not bulimic.”
“Did you just hear La Moufette call me a liar?”
Sanjita raises a manicured hand. “I did.”
I want to smack Rashmi’s sister, but I turn around. Ignore them. Amanda clears her throat. “What’s this about you and St. Clair?”
I freeze.
“Because while you were puking, I heard Rashmi talking to the dyke through her door.”
I spin around. She did NOT just say that.
Her voice is like poisoned candy, sweet but deadly.“Something about the two of you hooking up, and now the big freaky dyke is crying her eyes out.”
My jaw drops. I’m speechless.
“It’s not like she ever stood a chance with him anyway,” Nicole says.
“I’m not sure why Anna here thinks she stood a chance with him either. Dave was right. You are a slut. You weren’t good enough for him, and you’re definitely not good enough for St. Clair.” Amanda flicks her hair. “He’s A-list.You’re D.”
I cannot even begin to process that information. My voice shakes. “Don’t you ever call Meredith that again.”
“What, dyke? Meredith Chevalier is a big. Freaky. DYKE!”
I slam into her so hard that we burst through the bathroom door. Nicole is shouting and Sanjita is laughing and Isla is begging us to stop. People run from their rooms, surrounding us, egging us on. And then someone tears me off of her.
“What the hell is going on here?” Nate says, holding me back. Something drips down my chin. I wipe it and discover it’s blood.
“Anna attacked Amanda!” Sanjita says.
Isla speaks up. “Amanda was goading her—”
“Amanda was defending herself!” Nicole says.
Amanda touches her nose and winces. “I think she broke it. Anna broke my nose.”
Did I do that? Tears sting my cheek. The blood must have been a scratch from one of Amanda’s fingernails.
“We’re all waiting, Mademoiselle Oliphant,” Nate says.
I shake my head as Amanda launches into a tirade of accusations. “Enough!” Nate says. She stops. We’ve never heard him raise his voice before. “Anna, for goodness’ sake, what happened?”
“Amanda called Mer—” I whisper.
He’s angry. “I can’t hear you.”
“Amanda called—” But I cut myself off when I see Meredith’s blond curls hovering above everyone else in the crowd. I can’t say it. Not after everything else I’ve done to her today. I look down at my hands and gulp. “I’m sorry.”
Nate sighs. “All right, people.” He gestures to the crowd in the hall. “Show’s over, back to your rooms. You three.” Nate points at me and Amanda and Nicole. “Stay.”
No one moves.
“Get back to your rooms!”
Sanjita makes a hasty exit down the stairs and everyone else scrambles away. It’s just Nate and the three of us. And Isla. “Isla, go back to your room,” he says.
“But I was here.” Her soft voice grows braver. “I saw it happen.”
“Fine. All four of you, to the head’s office.”
“What about a doctor?” Nicole whines. “She totally broke Amanda’s nose.”
Nate leans over and inspects Amanda. “It’s not broken,” he says at last.
I exhale in relief.
“Are you sure?” Nicole asks. “I totally think she should go to a doctor.”
“Mademoiselle, please refrain from speech until we get to the head’s office.”
Nicole shuts her mouth.
I can’t believe it. I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office! My principal at Clairemont High didn’t even know my name. Amanda limps forward into the elevator, and I trudge behind with increasing dread. The moment Nate turns his back to us, she straightens up, narrows her eyes, and mouths this: You’re going down. Bitch.
chapter forty
The head gave me detention.
ME. DETENTION.
Amanda was given one weekend, but I have detention after school for the next two weeks. “I’m disappointed in you, Anna,” the head said, massaging the tension from her ballerina neck. “What will your father say?”
My dad? Who cares about my dad? What will Mom say? She’ll kill me. She’ll be so angry that she’ll leave me here, imprisoned in France forever. I’ll end up like one of those bums near the River Seine w
ho smell like underarms and cabbage. I’ll have to boil my own shoes for food like Charlie Chaplin in The Gold Rush. My life is RUINED.
The detention was divided unfairly because I refused to tell her what Amanda said. Because I hate that word. Like being gay is something to be ashamed of. Like because Mer likes sports, it automatically makes her a lesbian. The insult doesn’t even make sense. If Meredith were gay, why would she be upset about Étienne and me?
I hate Amanda.
When the head asked Isla for the story, she defended me, which is the only reason I don’t have detention for the rest of the year. She also took my cue; she didn’t tell the head what Amanda said about Mer. I thanked her silently with my eyes.
We return to Résidence Lambert, and everyone is hanging around the lobby. Word of our fight has spread, and our classmates are looking for bruises. They shout questions at us, as if this is a press conference for shamed celebrities, but I ignore them and push my way past. Amanda is already holding court, spreading her side of the story.
Whatever. I’m too furious to deal with that crap now.
I pass Dave and Mike in the stairwell. Mike does that dumb thing jerks do where they purposely bump your shoulder with theirs to throw you off balance.
“What the hell is your problem?” I shout.
Dave and Mike exchange surprised, self-satisfied smirks.
I stomp into my room. Everyone hates me. Étienne ditched me for his girlfriend. AGAIN. Meredith hates me, and Rashmi and Josh certainly aren’t pleased. Dave and Mike hate me. And Amanda and her friends, and now everyone else downstairs, too. If only I’d taken Rashmi’s advice. If only I’d stayed in my room, Mer wouldn’t have yelled at me. I wouldn’t know Étienne chose Ellie. I wouldn’t have attacked Amanda. And I wouldn’t have detention for the next two weeks.
WHY IS ÉTIENNE CHOOSING ELLIE? WHY?
Étienne. Who has perfect lips and perfect kisses. Who tastes like honey. Who will never, ever, EVER give up his stupid girlfriend! I’m startled by a knock on my door. I’m worked into such a frenzy that I didn’t hear the footsteps.
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