Perfect Glass (A Young Adult Novel (sequel to Glass Girl))

by Laura Anderson Kurk

  She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You boys look fantastic, too. Line up. Picture time.”

  My mom grabbed Quinn and walked him backward toward the fireplace. She tugged me along and tucked me next to him at an angle. Thanet and Abby were working on getting Thanet’s tie straight, so we waited.

  “You look incredible, Kavanagh,” Quinn whispered close to my ear. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Ssshhh,” I hissed. “They’re going to hear you.”

  “I can’t tell my date she’s beautiful?”

  I turned my head. “No. No, you can’t.”

  He sighed. “Do you want me to call him right now? I can call him or text him and tell him thanks for trusting me. Or something that sounds like a boy scout. I just want us to have a good time tonight, Meg. Not be all weird about everything.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “We’re just friends,” he continued, his voice sounding more irritated by the second. “It’s not like this is unprecedented. People go to dances as friends all the time.”

  My mom was listening. I could tell by how still she’d gone, although she was pretending to help Thanet. Before I could be too mortified, Quinn said, “Mrs. Kavanagh, my mom would die to have copies of the pictures you take. Would you mind emailing them?”

  I smiled up at him, silently thanking him for taking the spotlight off me.

  ***

  “I can’t believe I’m at a dance,” Thanet said when Abby excused herself to go to the restroom. He’d been looking a little green since we parked the car. “I can’t dance. I’d kill myself and Abby if I tried.”

  “Have you even looked at the dance floor, Than? None of these people can dance. It’s all awkward hormone swapping. Let’s just sit right here and watch.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, it’s butt sweat and pervy people.”

  I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “When you say things like that I love you even more.”

  Quinn sat down on the bleacher next to me with the drink he’d promised. “There’s a dude standing behind the punch table who literally says, ‘Spiked or not?’ when you ask for a drink.”

  I raised my glass. “Spiked or not?”

  “What do you think?” Quinn said, chuckling. “Your boyfriend would have my head on a platter if I tried something like that.”

  “Thanet is having a moment,” I said, leaning forward so Quinn could see him.

  “What’s wrong, man?” Quinn said. “Were you not aware high school dances suck? That they always have sucked and they will continue sucking as long as the world turns?”

  Thanet laughed one of his high-pitched, snorting kind of laughs he normally reserved for YouTube comedy.

  “Then why are we here?” I said.

  “Because we’re making memories,” Quinn said, raising his glass to mine. “And if my theory is right, the next song is slow. Two techno, one punk emo, one old rock, one pseudo-country, and then he slows it down. And the teacher by the lights pulls up a little on the dimmer. He’s either getting his jollies watching or he’s trying to reduce teen pregnancy by half.”

  “Gross,” I said.

  When the next song started, couples moved toward the dance floor like their lives depended on it. They looked damp and wrinkled. Quinn surprised me by taking my cup and pushing it under the bleacher with his.

  He held his hand out. “Kavanagh, would you like to dance?”

  I stared at him. “Is this like where you stop the car so I can get in, but, when I try, you gun it?”

  He grinned. “I would never do that to you. I seriously want to dance a cliché slow song with you.”

  “What about Thanet?” I said.

  “What about him?”

  I gestured toward the crowd. “We were just laughing at people. Now he’ll laugh at us.”

  Quinn searched the crowd. “Who cares? Abby’s headed this way. They can have some alone time.”

  “Go. Maybe we’ll join you.” Thanet watched Abby make her way across the gym floor. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Her awkwardness made her even more adorable and Thanet’s lips turned up in a smile.

  I didn’t know the song playing when Quinn spun me backward and into his arms. I had just grown used to the idea that we were standing so close together when I heard a noise from the bleachers. Quinn twisted so he could see better, then he took my elbow and steered me into a crowd that had gathered around the bleachers.

  Abby lay on her back on the gym floor and Thanet was sprawled on top of her. His legs were sawing in the air. I knew what had happened immediately because I’d worried about this scenario every time I climbed stairs next to Thanet. He was probably following her down the bleachers and got his foot caught. Abby, too small to catch him and make it stick, had collapsed under his weight.

  Red-faced and horrified, Thanet pushed away people who tried to help. Abby struggled to catch her breath, pressing on Thanet’s chest to get him to move. But he’d landed on his bad side, so he couldn’t get twisted in the right direction.

  “Abby, I would chew through my own leg to make this better,” he said. “Just give me a minute to get my balance.”

  People stared at Quinn and me, expecting us to rescue them. But I’d learned, from being with him when he falls, that Thanet doesn’t want help getting up. In fact, it doesn’t matter how painful it looks or how hard it is for him, you’d better keep your hands to yourself.

  Quinn seemed to know this intuitively so he waited patiently until Thanet rolled himself off Abby. Then he reached down and helped his sister up.

  “Is it just me, or is the heat on full blast?” I asked Quinn. My heart raced with the adrenaline pouring through my veins.

  “It’s hot.” He smirked and pointed with his chin. “Plus, the entire student body is circling around us. We’ve been cut from the herd.”

  Abby slowly pulled bobby pins from her hair and I held out my palm to hold them for her. Thanet righted himself and sat, catching his breath. He watched Abby with a wary look.

  Quinn dropped to the floor and lay next to him, making a joke about looking up girls’ dresses. Abby moved to stand closer to Thanet. I, for a reason I can’t even define, inched closer to Quinn.

  The whole episode had lasted less than a minute, but in mortified teenage time, it had taken hours and hours. Days. I think I blacked out at one point.

  Thanet finally met my eyes and mouthed, “Can we go?”

  I nodded once. “Let’s move this party somewhere private,” I said to Quinn.

  He smiled a slow, lopsided grin and jumped up, putting his arm around Abby and whispering something in her ear. Thanet hissed once as he stood, his face contorting in pain. I already dreaded the conversation with Thanet’s mom, Annie.

  In the car, no one made excuses or tried to saccharine Thanet to death. He apologized once to Abby and she brushed it off, claiming that her high heels had created the problem. Thanet rolled his eyes but smiled at her effort. Quinn opened the windows in his car and shocked us all with the freezing wind that blew in, screwing up our hair.

  “Just thought we could air it out, you know? Blow it all out and forget about it.”

  He reached for the volume on his stereo and blasted some band whose singer wailed about assumptions made and questions never asked. I texted Annie a little preview of what was headed her way. She’d raised Thanet to be independent and strong and to handle situations like tonight with quiet dignity. If she hadn’t, this night might have been a total loss. Instead, it was only slightly singed.

  Before we drove away from Thanet’s house, he asked Abby if she’d ever let him call her again.

  “Of course,” she said, slugging him in the arm, then blushing and apologizing.

  Later, in the dark of the car, Abby leaned forward and told us that Thanet was the best guy she’d ever met. I smiled, but I don’t think they saw. Quinn watched Abby in his rearview as she stared out the back window. He asked her if he could drop her off before he took me
home.

  And that was how Quinn and I ended up in the huge leather chairs next to a roaring fire in the lobby of my dad’s hotel. Both of us kicked our shoes off and warmed our toes on the stone hearth.

  “How do you like my fancy great room?” he asked, waving his arms around like some British nobleman.

  “It’s kind of small.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “But I have three hundred en suite chamber rooms upstairs.”

  “Still not impressed.” I giggled, sleepy enough to fade away right where I sat.

  “You were the prettiest girl there.” Quinn’s voice sounded as tired as mine. I raised one eyelid to look at him. His eyes were closed and his hands were folded on his stomach.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I liked your whole look, too.”

  “Hey, Meg—” He leaned forward and gave me this look like a confession was on the tip of his tongue, but he was interrupted by my phone buzzing with a text from Henry—Just making sure you made it home in one piece. Let me know so I can sleep.

  I stared at his message for a minute feeling like he could see me. Like I’d been caught in the act.

  “You should probably text him back so he won’t worry,” Quinn said, leaning back and closing his eyes again. “Go on. I’ll take a nap.”

  I slowly typed a message, changing it a few times before sending—Dance was okay until Thanet fell. We left early. No problems. Sweet dreams. Love, Me.

  I hadn’t exactly told him what he wanted to know, but I didn’t want to tell Quinn to take me home just so I could honestly tell Henry I’d made it. I wanted to stay in my warm chair next to the fire. I wanted to be next to someone who’d had the same kind of hard night I’d had. Not the kind of hard night that I didn’t understand, where children’s lives were changed forever and hearts were broken. Just the normal kind of high school hard night where feelings were hurt and friends were mortified. The kind where commiserating with someone who understood felt natural.

  “What were you going to ask?” At the sound of my voice, Quinn opened his eyes again. He leaned closer to the fire, holding his hands out to warm them.

  “I was just wondering…if you could ask God any question, what would it be?”

  I stared at him for a second, gauging his demeanor. I wanted to make sure he was serious before I trotted out my one question. He gave nothing away. He looked tired but also open and sincerely interested in what I would say.

  “I guess I’d want to know why Wyatt had to die.”

  He dropped his head and stared at the floor. “Who’s Wyatt?”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, wondering why I had started this. It was late. I could have said I wanted to ask God why he created mosquitoes. Instead, I gave him the whole story, leaving nothing out, including how messed up I was when Henry took me to the hot springs that night. I told him I hadn’t felt right about life until that moment when I gave myself up. And I cried, even though I tried not to.

  Quinn moved from his chair and sat on the stone hearth, facing me and nodding while I talked. He rested his cheek in his hand. He never interrupted. When I finished, he took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Wanna know what I’d ask him?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” I said, letting him change the subject.

  “Why, when I want to so badly, can’t I kiss you?” He leaned forward just the tiniest bit, just enough to close the distance between us, and did it anyway.

  And for a second, I let him. It wasn’t anything more than soft lips on mine. He tasted like the Jolly Rancher’s green apple candy he’d had earlier. His kiss wasn’t aggressive or forceful. Just warm and affirming. Something to help us both. But only for a heartbeat, then I pulled away and held my hand over my mouth. I could still feel him there.

  Quinn slowly turned, staring toward the lobby door. “I’m sorry. I had no right. I think I’m confused.”

  I shook my head, unable to speak.

  He stood, took my hand, and helped me up. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  THIRTY

  henry

  He kissed her. I’m an idiot.

  Meg’s late night confession had tied me up in knots. She’d called me crying from her bed to tell me O’Neill had done what I knew had been on his mind since he met her. The conversation went like this.

  “It just happened so fast,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything to me.”

  Her words hurt worse than anything I’d ever felt. “Everything means something.”

  “Except this. It was late. We were talking and Quinn leaned forward and—”

  “Where were you?” I said. “Were you alone? Did you push him away or say ‘no’ or anything?”

  Silence.

  “I guess that’s my answer.” My chest was going to cave in.

  “No, Henry. It’s just that I didn’t push him away. I pulled away. We were in the lobby of my dad’s hotel. We weren’t alone and I never expected him to do that.” She was crying. “But now you’ll never trust me again.”

  “That’s not true, Meg.”

  “Yes, it is, and your voice already sounds different.”

  There wasn’t anything I could say to make this better. Don’t worry about it? It’s not a big deal? Tell Quinn we’re cool? It’s fine that I’m going through the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced and you’re dressing up and kissing another guy?

  “Nothing’s changed,” I said. “Things are crap down here. I can’t even explain how bad it is to someone who’s never been here. And I’m getting up at dawn every morning trying to make a difference, but nothing I do fixes anything. And now all I can think about is pounding Quinn O’Neill.” My fist hammered on my leg. “It’s distracting. And, yeah, I’m mad.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “I just thought I had one person on earth who was making an effort for me,” I said. “I thought all this was worth it because I’d get to go home eventually and you’ll have been working just as hard, sacrificing just as much, for me. But it seems like that’s not really what’s happening.” That was a low blow but there was no way to take it back.

  “You’re wrong. I have been making an effort for you. I have made sacrifices. And I’m really sorry, Henry.”

  “You know I love you, Meg. Just let me figure out a way to deal with this on my own terms.”

  It was a harsh way to leave a hard conversation. Once we broke the connection, I was still thousands of miles away from home, and we were both, essentially, all alone.

  A semitruck, driven by a guy who didn’t know airbrakes weren’t welcome at dawn, backed into our courtyard. I groaned and rolled over to face the wall. He didn’t need my help. No way would I climb out of bed.

  But a quiet knock on my door ended any chance I had to try to sleep the morning away.

  “Hey, Hen, there’s a semi offloading a rusty ship container in our courtyard. Know anything about that?” John sounded as rough as I felt.

  “I’m on it, John.” I eased out of twisted sheets, reaching for yesterday’s clothes and a flashlight from my desk drawer. “It’s our present from the Holton Company. I wanted to surprise you.”

  John handed me a tall cup of strong Nica coffee at the door and we headed out into the muggy air. Back home, Dad would be using a tractor as a snowplow to clear a way to feed livestock. Here we were sweating through our shirts. I poured the hot coffee out onto the dirt of the courtyard and pitched the cup into a nearby garbage can.

  The truck, a side lifter with hydraulic cranes mounted at both ends, bumped up neatly next to the flex building. The driver knew what he was doing and had already started getting the cranes attached to our container. The truck sprouted thick red arms that telescoped down to the ground to keep it from toppling as the center of gravity shifted. John and I watched like a couple of six-year-old Transformer nerds as this real-life Optimus Prime whirred through its paces.

  Too soon, the show was over and the driver, an Okie literally from Muskogee, had us sign for the delivery. He handed
over the key for the container’s lock.

  “Come on.” I tossed the key to John. “You do the honors.”

  John wore a grin I knew well; the same one was fixed on my face. He cracked open the lock and I helped him swing the rusted door open. The container, dark inside because the morning sun was still riding low on the horizon, smelled like the sea and week-old fish. I turned on the flashlight so we could see the brand names on the appliances.

  While I watched the emotions play on John’s face, I ran my hands over the forklift Patrick had been nice enough to loan us.

  “Hark, the herald angels sing,” John said. What this shipment meant to me paled in comparison to what it meant to John. He’d been associated with Quiet Waters for so many years now and never, not once, had he dreamed something like this would happen.

  “Can we keep it?” I said.

  “Um…yeah?” John said.

  I absentmindedly rubbed the shadow of a beard that had started on my cheeks while I picked out my next great statement of faith. “Explain to me, then, what we’re doing here, John. Because, don’t get me wrong, I want to use this stuff. I want to make something great with it. But I can’t work it out in my head why we’re still talking about this building.”

  As long as Raf had been here, I’d still had hope that we were here for a reason. It was why when Patrick showed me this container, I’d agreed to accept it. But echoes off empty buildings didn’t impress organizations struggling to support us financially.

  Oh, I still had dreams, big ones. Dreams of turning this place into something even bigger than an orphanage, something that would help all the people in San Isidro who needed more than food and clothes. They needed training. They needed counseling. They needed skills. They needed someone who would be a friend and not a judge.

  John was quiet as he used his pocketknife to split the tops of a couple of boxes. He dug around in packing materials for a while, ignoring me.

  Finally, he talked while he explored. I followed, my heart soaring and crashing at the same time.

  “I know where you are, Henry. I know what you’re thinking. Just stay calm. Don’t let your personal timeline or your own feelings of inadequacy get in the way here.”