Heartstopper

by Joy Fielding

  One minute she and Greg had been kissing passionately; the next, he was walking away. Was she that bad a kisser? Had he been repulsed by her ineptness, her obvious lack of expertise? Had he been looking for more of a challenge? Had he just been toying with her? Had he decided she simply wasn’t worth the effort? She knew he’d been interested. What had changed his mind, and changed it so abruptly?

  He’d spent Monday ignoring her, going so far as to sit on the other end of the aisle during yesterday afternoon’s initial read-through of the play. Today’s rehearsal would have involved their first big scene together, and she’d been hoping to clear the air. She wasn’t looking for a confrontation, just an explanation. If an apology was necessary, she’d make one, although she didn’t know what she had to apologize for. What had she done that was so awful? All right, so maybe a vigil wasn’t the most appropriate place for igniting a new romance, but other kids had been making out that night as well, and no one was shunning them.

  Megan had been staring out her bedroom window last night when Greg’s white van had pulled onto her street, and for one heart-stopping moment, she’d thought he might be coming over to see her. But instead, he and Mr. Lipsman had emerged from the car’s front seat, along with Peter Arlington from the back, and they’d all raced up the front path to Cal Hamilton’s house, disappearing inside seconds later. Joey Balfour’s car was already parked in the driveway behind Cal’s sports car, and soon a beat-up red Chevy arrived, and then the sheriff. Not long after, everybody left. Greg had left the house and climbed into his van without so much as a backward glance.

  Megan had spent the hours between midnight and 2 a.m. trying to banish him from her brain, and when that didn’t work, the hours between two and four trying to think up clever things to say, assorted ways to recapture his attention. She’d imagined him responding to her overtures in a variety of ways, some warm and friendly, others indifferent, even hostile. She’d tried to anticipate everything that could possibly happen. What she hadn’t anticipated was nothing happening at all. She hadn’t considered his simply not showing up. She’d even washed her hair and worn her new black jersey with the scooped neckline. “Isn’t that a little low-cut for school?” her mother had asked.

  So what did Greg’s absence mean? That his father had really needed his help at home? Or that he was dropping out of the production altogether, that he no longer wanted to play the strutting Petruchio to her willful Kate? Damn it, she thought. He was the only reason she’d auditioned for the damn play in the first place. And now she was stuck sitting here in the school auditorium with a bunch of kids who were treating her as if she had some kind of communicable disease, and the only person who was being nice to her was Delilah Franklin, which only made things worse. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time to move back to Rochester. Clearly she didn’t belong in Torrance. Did she belong anywhere?

  Mr. Lipsman brought his right index finger to the bridge of his nose, pushed back a pair of invisible reading glasses. “All right. I guess we’ll have to proceed without him.” He signaled for Amber and several others to join him on the stage. “In the meantime, Tanya, why don’t you see if you can get ahold of him. Maybe he can persuade his father to spare him for a few hours.”

  “I’ll try his cell,” Tanya offered, retreating to the back of the auditorium, Ginger Perchak at her side. Several weeks ago she would have been right there with them, Megan thought wistfully.

  “Do you think his father is giving him a hard time about being in the play?” Delilah asked, sliding into the seat beside Megan.

  “How should I know?” Megan snapped, staring straight ahead.

  “Sorry. I thought you two were …”

  “Were what?”

  “You know.”

  “I don’t know. And we’re not.”

  “Sorry,” Delilah apologized again, slinking down so low in the seat she was almost lying down. Megan could almost hear the seat groan. “I just thought—”

  “Don’t think.”

  “Sorry,” Delilah said yet again. “So, did you hear about Brian Hensen and Perry Falco?”

  “What about them?”

  “Joey caught them making out in the park last night.”

  Megan had heard the rumors, read the fevered e-mails. “Joey’s a jerk.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.”

  “Then why are you, of all people, spreading this kind of malicious gossip around?” But even as she asked the question, Megan knew it was unfair. Delilah was a human being after all. She liked gossip as much as the next person, and for once, she wasn’t its target. It was so much nicer to identify with the victor than the victim.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For God’s sake, stop apologizing.”

  “Sorry,” Delilah muttered. Then, just as Megan was deciding she’d had all the sorrys she could take, and that she was going home, Delilah asked, “What do you think happened to Fiona Hamilton?” Fiona’s disappearance had the whole town talking.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did you know her very well?”

  Megan shook her head. “I didn’t know her at all.”

  “She lived next door to you.”

  “So? I hardly ever saw her.”

  “Do you think Liana’s killer got her?”

  Megan shook her head. She’d had a similar conversation with her mother last night, except then she’d been the one asking Delilah’s questions. Now she gave her mother’s answer: “I think she probably just ran away.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Delilah said.

  It was four o’clock on Tuesday afternoon and Fiona Hamilton still hadn’t turned up. There was talk of calling in the FBI. A major sweep of the area was planned for tomorrow.

  “I can’t find him,” Tanya suddenly announced, clomping down the aisle, Ginger an eager puppy at her heels. “He’s not answering his cell.” They plopped down into the seats across the aisle from Megan. “I left him a message.”

  Mr. Lipsman sighed, then made a clucking sound with his mouth. “Can I have the chorus onstage, please?”

  Immediately Delilah was on her feet.

  “God, look at that cow,” Tanya whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, as Delilah mounted the several steps to the stage.

  “Elephant is more like it,” Ginger concurred.

  They glanced toward Megan, as if daring her to join in, to say something that would demonstrate her solidarity with them. She realized that a few nasty words would be enough to get her back in their good graces, that Tanya was giving her this chance to reenter the inner circle. This is my opportunity to make things right, she was thinking. To make up for getting the part of Kate over both Tanya and Ginger. For making out with Greg. It would be so easy. All she had to do was reference a suitably unattractive animal, utter something like “What a pig!” She certainly didn’t owe Delilah anything just because the girl had been nice to her. Or because one day the two social outcasts might end up as stepsisters. She opened her mouth to speak, her lips curling around the words Oink, oink, when she heard her mother’s voice in her ear. If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything, the voice advised. Followed by another of her favorite platitudes: Do onto others as you would have them do onto you. Megan closed her mouth as both Tanya and Ginger turned away from her with disappointment, the opportunity of renewed acceptance evaporating as suddenly as it had appeared. Megan rose from her seat and rushed up the aisle to the back of the auditorium.

  “What a loser,” she heard Tanya proclaim.

  “Don’t go far, Megan,” Mr. Lipsman cautioned as she pushed through the door into the corridor, heading for the nearest exit.

  “Rehearsal over already?” a voice asked from somewhere beside her.

  Megan didn’t have to turn around to know who was speaking. She stopped in her tracks, counted silently to ten before answering, “No. It just started.”

  “So where are you going?” Greg asked.

  Still Mega
n refused to turn around. She was afraid that if she did, she would burst into tears, so relieved was she by his presence, by the fact he was speaking to her. “Mr. Lipsman’s working with the chorus, so I thought I’d go outside for a few minutes, get some air.”

  “Air sounds good,” Greg said, falling into step beside her.

  Megan concentrated all her energy on breathing in and out. She was trying to remember the things she’d worked out in her head the previous night to say to him, all those clever observations and retorts, but her mind had gone totally, numbingly blank. So she decided to say nothing, to let Greg take the lead. Not until they stepped outside did she even glance his way, and only then because he stepped purposely in front of her. Even with the sun shining directly in her eyes, she could see that his face was scratched and one eye was swollen almost shut and ringed in purple. When he smiled, his split lip veered precariously to one side. “My God, what happened to you?” It seemed that half the student population was covered in bruises. What was the matter with everyone?

  “My father and I had a slight disagreement.”

  “What about?”

  “He’s not crazy about my choice of extracurricular activities.”

  “He hit you because he doesn’t want you to be in the play?”

  “School musicals aren’t high on his list of priorities.”

  “So he beat you up?”

  “He tried.”

  “Looks like he succeeded. Have you seen a doctor?”

  Greg shrugged off the potential seriousness of his injuries. “It’s nothing.”

  Megan fought to keep her hands at her sides. What she wanted was to reach out and caress those bruises, to plant a series of tender kisses up and down the side of his cheek. “I can’t believe he did that to you.”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  “Have you ever told anybody?”

  “I’m telling you.”

  Megan felt strangely flattered, although part of her wondered what would have happened had she not been the first person he ran into. Would he have confided in Tanya instead? “I meant somebody like the sheriff.”

  “Sheriff’s got his hands full right now, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Why don’t you let me call my father? I’m sure he’d see you without an appointment.”

  “Why don’t you sit down beside me and just talk to me awhile. That’s all the medicine I need.” Greg took her elbow, led her toward a royal palm tree in the middle of a small triangle of grass about thirty yards from the school. They sank to the moist earth, his hand still on her arm.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Megan asked warily. What she really wanted to say was, What the hell’s the matter with you? Why the sudden need to talk? Why did you abandon me in the park?

  “I don’t know,” he admitted with a smile.

  “I saw you last night.”

  “You did?”

  “At Mr. Hamilton’s.”

  He nodded. “Pretty scary about his wife going missing.”

  Megan didn’t really want to talk about Fiona Hamilton. “What were you and Peter doing with Mr. Lipsman?”

  “We were rehearsing a song over at his place.”

  “Really? What was that like?”

  “A little weird. He lives in this big old house he used to share with his mother, and it’s still filled with her things, not to mention thousands of cats.”

  “Thousands?”

  “Well, ten anyway.” Greg smiled, then winced.

  “It hurts when you smile?”

  “Old man packs a wallop.”

  “I wish you’d let my father take a look at it.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “Which is?”

  “You could kiss it and make it better.”

  Megan found herself holding her breath.

  “That’s what my mother used to do when I was a kid,” he added sheepishly.

  Megan said nothing. What kind of game was he playing? Had he and Tanya concocted this little plan together? Kiss her, dump her, don’t talk to her for days, then see if she’s stupid enough to let you kiss her again? Besides, hadn’t they been talking about his mother the last time they’d been together, right before he’d left her standing in the park alone? “What’s going on?” Megan heard herself blurt out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” Megan said, unable to stem the flow of words that were suddenly bursting from her mouth. “You haven’t said two words to me since the vigil, and now all of a sudden, here you are, acting all sweet and lovey-dovey.” Lovey-dovey, she repeated silently. Lovey-dovey? Where had that ancient expression come from?

  “Lovey-dovey?” he repeated, smiling despite his obvious discomfort.

  “You left me standing there in the park by myself, feeling like a complete idiot.”

  “I know,” he acknowledged after a brief pause.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? One minute everything’s great, and the next minute you’re not talking to me. Why?”

  “Because I’m an idiot. Guess my dad’s right.”

  Megan shook her head. “No. You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” There followed a long pause, during which Megan wondered if she’d ruined everything and Greg was preparing to get up and walk away again. What would she do then? Run after him? Or count herself lucky and watch him go?

  “You scared me,” he said unexpectedly.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “How did I scare you? What did I do?”

  “It’s what you didn’t do.”

  “What didn’t I do?”

  “You didn’t treat me like some big, dumb jock who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

  “That’s because you aren’t.”

  “Which is exactly what I mean.”

  “You’re losing me again.”

  “That’s precisely what I was afraid of.”

  “What was?”

  “Losing you.”

  Megan’s head was spinning. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who walked away.”

  “Preemptive strike. Isn’t that what they call it?”

  “You were afraid of losing me so you dumped me. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  “Pretty stupid, I guess.”

  “Pretty cowardly. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

  “Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was going to seduce you.”

  “What?” No one had ever talked about seducing her before. It made Megan feel grown-up.

  “You heard me. I’d been planning it since that afternoon in the auditorium. Thought you were ripe for the picking.”

  Megan tried to feel insulted, but what she really felt was flattered. And excited. “So what stopped you?”

  “You did. The way you stood up to me, told me to slow down, that I was gonna have to get to know you, that you were gonna have to get to know me. And next thing I know, you got me talking about my mother and shit I never talk about. Which got me thinking.” He grinned. “And I don’t like thinking. I’m not used to it.”

  Megan smiled too, then quickly forced her mouth into a frown. “So you hooked up with Tanya instead.”

  “Tanya? No way. Been there, done that. We’re just friends.”

  Thank God, Megan thought. “Does she know that?”

  “She knows. She’s just giving you a hard time ’cause you got the part of Kate.”

  So now what? Megan wondered, inching closer to his side. “You were really going to seduce me?”

  “Trust me. You were done for.”

  “And how were you going to accomplish that exactly?”

  A sly grin stretched across Greg’s mouth, threatening to reopen the cut on his lower lip. “For starters, I was gonna touch you right here.” He brushed his fingers
against the side of her neck.

  Megan felt a tingle spread across the top of her spine to travel down her back.

  “And then I was going to kiss the side of your mouth, like this.” He lowered his face to hers, his lips gently touching down on her own. The tingle spiraled into Megan’s breasts. “And then, here,” he continued, kissing first one eyelid, then the other. “And then, here,” he said, his lips returning to her mouth, where he kissed her again, harder this time.

  “Careful,” she told him, feeling the raised edge of the cut on his lip. “You’re injured.”

  “Feels better already.”

  Megan heard her breath emerge in a series of shallow bursts. “And then what were you going to do?”

  Greg pulled back, his finger drawing a line along her flesh from her chin to the top of her scooped-neck jersey. “I was gonna look into those big, trusting eyes and suggest we get the hell out of there.”

  “You think I would have gone?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Megan!” a voice called out. “What are you doing out here?”

  Megan jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. Reluctantly, she turned around, saw her mother cutting across the pavement from her portable classroom, and quickly scrambled to her feet. “Mom, hi. I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “Hi, there, Mrs. C.,” Greg said as he pushed himself into a standing position, wiped some loose grass from the seat of his jeans. “Working late?”

  “Just getting a few things ready for tomorrow. You?”

  “We were running some lines,” Megan said.

  “From the play,” Greg added.

  “What happened to your face?” her mother asked Greg.

  “It’s nothing,” he demurred.

  “We should get back inside,” Megan said.