The Possibility of Somewhere

by Julia Day

  “Oh,” Marta said with huff of excitement. “Manicures would be awesome.”

  It was a date.

  On the drive to the restaurant, Marta bubbled happily about her upcoming event with her mom. Kurt hummed and kicked his car seat. It didn’t take long, though, for the conversation to switch to food. Our selections engrossed us.

  McDonald’s was packed. After picking up our order, we located a table near the playground. Marta snuggled on the bench beside me while Kurt sat across from us, his back to the craziness.

  I stirred my yogurt parfait while surveying the rest of the dining area. I’d almost completed my sweep when I spotted Ash. He held a tray with a serious amount of food and two drinks. A little boy waited beside him, clutching his belt.

  There weren’t many places left to sit. His gaze slipped past mine, then returned. I waved him over and pointed at the empty table next to us.

  “We have room,” I said when he got within earshot.

  “All right,” the little boy yelled and climbed onto the seat closest to Kurt. “I’m Raj, and I’m four.”

  “Hi, Raj, I’m Eden, and these are my friends Kurt and Marta.”

  Like me, Ash sat on the bench side of the table, his hip nearly bumping mine. I scooted over to give him more room.

  It had been three weeks since the MIM. We were hardly friends now, but the peace had held so far. I’d even spoken up a couple of times in project-team discussions to agree with what they were doing. He’d noticed my attempts to “collaborate,” if the quick smiles I’d received were any indication.

  Kurt was glaring at Ash. “Who is that guy?”

  I met Kurt’s gaze calmly. He didn’t like change or strangers all that much unless he’d had some advance notice. “Ash and I go to the same school.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “Uncle Ash is taking care of me tonight,” Raj said. “Why are you here?”

  “Eden wanted McDonald’s food.”

  Ash choked on a laugh as he tore into an apple pie.

  Kurt turned sideways on his seat and stared at a wall while he ate his hamburger. Raj became consumed with ripping open ketchup packages and squeezing the contents onto a flimsy paper napkin.

  “Eden,” Raj said in his piping voice, “my uncle told his friend Dev that you have a great rack. Where is it? I want to see.”

  I snorted sweet tea up my nose, then grabbed a pile of napkins and held them to my mouth. It did nothing to suppress my laughter.

  Ash dropped his flaming face into his hands.

  The kids watched us in astonishment.

  I nudged him in the side with my elbow. “Me too, Ash. Where is it?”

  “Please,” he hissed.

  It was hard to regain control. Normally I would be pissed by a comment like that, but I couldn’t be when it was Raj who’d said it. He was an adorable kid, asking what he wanted to know. It was one of the things I’d learned to love about babysitting.

  “Uncle Ash, can I play now?”

  “Yes.” He said it so fast that I started laughing again.

  Raj tapped Kurt on the shoulder. “Wanna come?”

  Kurt, his eyes huge, looked at me for guidance.

  “Go ahead.”

  His lower lip rolled out. “My dad says that only little kids are supposed to use the playground at McDonald’s. He says I’m too old.”

  Mr. Fremont was such a jerk. Much as I’d like to smack the man, I wouldn’t contradict a statement by a parent, which meant I’d have to work around it. “You could be the playground monitor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If anyone breaks a rule or gets hurt, you come and tell me.”

  “I would be good at that job.”

  “I agree.”

  He pushed Raj off the seat. The two boys raced for the playground. Ash stood and circled around to the other side of his table to clean his nephew’s glops of ketchup.

  Marta cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered in my ear, “That guy is cute.”

  “You think so?” I whispered back.

  Her face scrunched uncertainly. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

  She beamed at him. He blinked and smiled back.

  “Thanks for inviting us over,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” Marta hopped off her seat. “May I help you bus the table? I know how.”

  “That would be great.”

  I left the two of them to the chore and went to check on the boys. Raj frowned at a slide while Kurt maintained enthusiastic vigilance over the three other toddler occupants of the playground.

  “Done, Eden,” Marta sang out. “Time to play beauty shop.”

  I returned to the bench and waited dutifully for her to set up. While she unzipped her sequined purse, Ash flopped down beside me.

  “Beauty shop?” he asked.

  “She loves to style my hair.” It seemed a simple enough way to make her happy. All I had to do was rest while she braided, curled, or threaded ribbons through my hair. There was something quite relaxing about the process.

  We didn’t talk. I sat sideways on the bench while Marta knelt behind me, brushing my hair with extreme care. Ash watched the production intently, craning to see better as she attached sparkly clips about my head.

  “How do they stay in?” he asked.

  With a shy smile, Marta held one out to him. He flicked it open and closed a few times, his forehead creased in concentration. “It’s well designed,” he said, handing the clip back to her.

  She nodded. “And pretty.”

  “That too.” He grinned.

  She sighed happily, which I completely understood. He had a dazzling smile. Such perfect white teeth.

  “I’m letting Eden borrow the silver one on Friday.”

  His gaze met mine. “Are you going to homecoming?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “With a friend,” Marta added.

  “I didn’t think you…” He paused.

  There was surprise in his voice, and a trace of something else. Irritation, maybe. “I don’t usually go, but Mundy is insisting.”

  He nodded and looked away, his eyes focusing on something over my shoulder.

  Raj and Kurt ran up and skidded to a stop beside us. “We’re done,” they said in unison.

  Kurt added, “Too crowded now.”

  Ash made a soft grunt and rose. “Time for us to go.”

  “Wait,” Raj said. He leaned on my leg. “I’ve never touched yellow hair before. Can I touch yours?”

  The request echoed through me, honest and innocent. “Of course, you may.”

  “Raj—” Ash’s voice sounded choked.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  The little guy petted my hair. “It feels the same, but it doesn’t look the same.”

  Marta held out the brush. “Want to try?”

  “Yeah.” Raj gestured for me to sit straighter and then stepped between my knees. “I’ll try not to scratch your ear.”

  “Thank you.”

  Raj brushed with precise strokes, his lips pursed.

  Ash shuffled his feet. “Raj, we have to leave.”

  His nephew nodded and handed back the brush. “How did I do?”

  “You were quite gentle, and you didn’t get near my ear,” I said as I stood too.

  Ash caught Raj’s hand in his. “Thanks again.” With a nod, he wove through the tables, his nephew skipping to keep up.

  Kurt scowled. “I’m not sure if I like the big guy.” He punched me in the hip. “What about you, Eden?”

  I nodded, my eyes tracking Ash all the way until he disappeared through an exit. “I’m not sure either.”

  14

  Flame Out

  Mundy decided to skip the homecoming game. She claimed that she didn’t like football. I suspected it was more about not trusting me to try hard enough with my appearance. While everyone else was screaming their heads off at the stadium, we were at her house. Preparation, for her, w
as serious business.

  After a decadently long shower, I returned to her bedroom, awaiting the second Mundy Makeover of my life. I’d been in her room fifteen minutes when the door burst open. A little boy, dressed in footed superhero pajamas, raced to my side and asked, “Who are you?”

  “Eden.” I remained still, careful not to move while Mundy was brandishing a curling iron near my head. “Who are you?”

  “Destin.” He crawled onto my lap.

  Boldness, apparently, was a genetic trait. I gingerly slipped my arms around him and adjusted him into a position more comfortable for me and safer for him. His hair tickled my chin, damp and baby-shampoo sweet.

  “Destin,” Mundy said from somewhere behind us, “don’t wiggle. I might burn Eden’s scalp.”

  “Obey your sister,” I said in a loud whisper. He giggled.

  Another face appeared in the mirror, a much older and nearly as beautiful version of Mundy. The woman had the same startling blue eyes and shiny black hair, except hers hung in a thick braid to her waist.

  “Hi, Mrs. Cruz-Holt,” I said with absolute certainty even though we’d never met.

  “Please call me Clarissa.” She squinted at my hands. “Are your nails painted?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  They didn’t ask permission in this family. They simply did things. Another genetic trait.

  Destin slid off my lap and followed his mother out the door. Only a small portion of my neck was burned in the process.

  When they returned, Clarissa had a half-dozen bottles of polish and a small stool. Destin had nothing but suppressed energy.

  My transformation progressed at a steady pace. Mundy did most of the work, comments flowing in a never-ending stream. Clarissa perched beside me, monitoring her daughter’s efforts while painting my fingernails purple.

  After patting Marta’s silver clip into place at the back of my head, Mundy knelt in front of me and scrutinized my face. With a pleased smile, she nodded. “You’re done. Sit here and let your nails dry. I’ll change.” She disappeared into her walk-in closet.

  When she came out again, there was an excited flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky emerald dress that stopped at midthigh, with long, tight sleeves and a mandarin collar. The dress looked prim until she spun around. The back was nothing but sheer lace from shoulders to waist.

  I gasped. “Sh—”

  Her mother clapped her hand around my mouth.

  Mundy looked at me wide-eyed. “I’m completely covered.”

  “Not exactly how I’d describe it,” I said through her mother’s fingers. Clarissa laughed and backed away.

  The other girls at the dance would have plenty of skin on display, except closer to the slutty end of the spectrum. Mundy would stand out in a good way.

  “We have to leave soon. It’s your turn to dress.” She sat on the edge of her bed and slipped her feet into bronze heels.

  I headed into the closet to slip on Marnie’s plum dress and waited as Clarissa zipped the back. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the feel of the fabric, which was wonderful. Cool and sleek. If I looked as good as the satin felt, it wouldn’t be a miserable night. I still planned to blend into the shadows, but at least I wouldn’t look bad back there.

  I walked out and twirled before my friend. Her nose wrinkled.

  “You have to lose the ballet flats.”

  I glanced down. They were fine. It was more important that my feet didn’t hurt. “Why?”

  “They’re ballet flats.” She exchanged disturbed glances with her mother. “What do you have?”

  “Let me check.”

  When she returned, Clarissa showed me a pair of pumps. They were silver, peep-toe, and had four-inch heels.

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

  She held out a second pair in satiny black. They looked like the kind of shoes that ballroom dancers wore. The heel was higher than I liked but not terrible. I slipped them on and felt pretty. “These’ll be fine.”

  We were ready.

  * * *

  We still arrived late.

  After the crisp freedom of the night, the gym yawned like a mildewy, sweaty barn. The dance committee must’ve saved the ticket revenue for a future event because they’d spent nothing on this one. There were no decorations anywhere. No streamers or fake ivy or twinkling white lights. Refreshments had been dispensed with, too. The committee had paid for music, a hard-to-miss part of a dance. All other expenses had been spared.

  A few couples stomped in the center of the gym to rap music. Everyone else clustered in small groups on the sides, in the stands, or against the walls.

  Mundy and I found a spot on the bleachers. While I squirmed around, trying to determine how to sit in this dress without flashing people, she focused on the dance floor.

  “Hardly anyone’s dancing.”

  “I’m sure the DJ knows what he’s doing.”

  “People should be willing to try something new.” Her lips twisted.

  “We’ve only been here for five minutes. Give it a chance.” I looked away, hoping she would drop it.

  The next song switched to country, which drove a complete change on the dance floor.

  She leapt to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “To do what?”

  “Dance.” She clearly didn’t care whether I went with her, because she sauntered onto the gym floor and stopped a few feet apart from the crowd, making her more noticeable. With flapping arms, she twitched in her own little universe, totally out of rhythm with the music.

  If I’d been guessing, I would’ve expected her to be a competent dancer. Instead, she was bad—so bad we couldn’t even laugh at her. A dancing Mundy Cruz was a horrific train wreck we had no choice but to gape at.

  This was my fault. I should’ve punctured her tires and saved us all the grief.

  I couldn’t let her stay out there by herself, but if I joined her? The thought made me shudder. I had to find Mundy a dance partner, but who?

  Above me on the bleachers, Ash’s entourage sat in a clump off to themselves, watching Mundy like everyone else. Except Ash. He stared at me.

  Why was he here? I wouldn’t have thought that dances were his thing unless …

  Ash was the secretary of the Student Council. He had to be here, which explained why his friends had come, too. Could I ask him to help me?

  Nope. I wasn’t asking Ash Gupta for anything.

  Who else? There weren’t many people that I could imagine helping me. I didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt.

  Debt!

  Where was Sawyer Atkinson?

  I spotted him under a basketball goal, shoulder to shoulder with Tiffany, surrounded by a bunch of other popular kids, staring at my friend in fascination. Yeah, I’d found my solution. Sawyer was one of the few guys at the school who could dance with me and have no repercussions. He was so amazingly popular that everyone would overlook it.

  Tiffany would be pissed off, but that didn’t matter anymore. I had to give this a try.

  My footsteps slowed as I got near him. Murray was there too, and he spotted me first. Maybe I should keep walking and pretend I hadn’t come over here on purpose.

  “Eden,” he said in a way that made my skin crawl.

  Sawyer elbowed him out of the way. “Enough, Fielder.” It had an electric effect on Murray as well as the rest of the group. They turned as a unit.

  When I stopped, Sawyer drew closer to me with a smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I smiled back nervously. Now that I was here, could I actually ask him? I’d feel like a complete fool if he said no in front of all of these people. “I need a favor.”

  “How can I help?”

  Before I could respond, Tiffany stepped between us as she made an exaggerated study of my dress. “Nice color. Reminds me of the dress that Marlene wears to weddings.”

  I glared at her. Had she really used Marnie to score against me? Yeah, not getting aw
ay with that. My mouth said, “Thanks.” My eyes said, “Bitch.”

  Tiffany grasped Sawyer’s arm and pressed her cheek against the sleeve of his sports jacket. “Is Mundy your date?”

  “At least I have one.”

  She went rigid. The others laughed.

  I looked at Sawyer, took a deep breath, and held out my hand. “Dance?”

  Without hesitating a second, he pulled free of Tiffany and linked his fingers through mine. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  While her face burned with humiliation, the laughter continued. I didn’t have a chance to see more, because Sawyer was dragging me onto the floor.

  Even though he’d always been nice to me, I’d heard that Sawyer, as captain of the baseball team, could be harsh on the field. This was the first time I’d seen that side of him in action. I almost felt sorry for Tiffany. Almost.

  Once we reached the crowd in the center, he launched into some moves that looked really good. I swayed beside him, positioning myself between him and Mundy, so that it seemed like the three of us were together. Before much longer, a couple of his teammates appeared near us with their girlfriends. Mission accomplished.

  When the song ended, he smiled down at me. “That was an easy favor.”

  “You’re not done yet.” I clutched his wrist and closed the distance to a still-twitching Mundy. “I need you to dance with her.”

  “Shit. I don’t know—”

  “Feminine hygiene,” I said.

  The DJ announced the next selection. A love song from the eighties. A mass of students surged to the floor.

  Shaking his head in resignation, he touched her shoulder.

  She stopped twitching and blinked dazedly. “What?”

  He offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

  She considered him coolly before transferring her gaze to me. “Did you put him up to this?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re so bad, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Why not ask me to leave the floor? I’ll still be a bad dancer with him around.”

  “He’s good enough for both of you.”

  Sawyer crossed his arms. “Do you ladies need me to give you some privacy?”

  She ignored him. “I’m trying to get everyone to stretch their boundaries.”

  “It’s a stretch to imagine you and Sawyer together.”