Alterations

by Stephanie Scott

  Tess and Avery emerged from the crowd. “Where have you been?” Avery called out.

  Tess threw her hands in the air. “Enough with the photographer stuff. Get out here and dance.”

  “Des?” She seemed calmer now, but moving into the crowd could end that immediately.

  “I’m all right.” She took in a big breath. “I needed time to get myself together.” She shook her head and like the turn of a switch, her expression blinked on to the Des I knew and loved.

  I almost joined Tess and Avery, but I held back. “Are you sure? If you have a real issue with crowds, we don’t have to go in there.” I glanced to the thick mass of bodies jamming to the new DJ duo who’d just taken the stage.

  She managed a small smile, more out of shyness than forced or freaked-out. “I’m good. I promise.”

  We followed Tess and Avery deeper in. The bass thudded like a heartbeat. I moved in sync with the masses, like we were all veins pumping blood to the same rhythm. Bodies pressed in from all sides, moving as one. When I looked up: clear, open blue sky.

  Tess spoke alongside my ear. “Isn’t this amazing?”

  The music scratched at my throat and lifted my hair at the roots. We were almost within reach of the stage. The energy was so intense I wanted to eat it.

  Tess and Avery danced like no one was watching. Amy danced like everyone was watching and enjoyed every second. Des closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment.

  If there was any moment to get lost in, it was this one.

  I took it all in and let go.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Our late night out meant I had messages to catch up on the next morning. Texts to Mami and Maya, and a call to Abuelita, who expected checkins every few days. During breakfast was ideal, since most kids skipped in favor of sleeping in, but I needed food in the morning.

  “Amelia!” Abuelita said my name like she hadn’t spoken to me less than forty-eight hours ago. “Do you think you’ll see the family in New York?”

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I tried to make sense of both the odd flavor in the eggs on my cafeteria plate, and whatever Abuelita was saying. “Whose family?”

  She made a tsking sound. “Didn’t you read my text? The Laurentis. They’re traveling to the summer house. Mr. Laurenti has been in New York for business and the family is flying up.”

  I blinked a path to understanding. I definitely had not received a message with any information related to the Laurentis coming to New York. “When?”

  “I sent the text many days ago. I’m on the house phone now. Let me look at the cell phone log. I’ll tell you exactly—oh.” The line went quiet a few seconds. “I sent the text to Frisco.”

  I pushed the unidentifiable egg dish aside. “I meant, when are they coming to New York?”

  “They should be there now.”

  Shock streaked through me. “They’re here?”

  “Yes. I told Gigi you would be available to meet with the family when they’re in Manhattan.”

  “You asked them?” I shot up from my seat sending the chair skittering back. “I’m sure they’re way too busy to meet with me.”

  “Mila. Your Mami and I would like to know the family’s checked up on you. It’s your first time away.”

  This would be … awkward. It wasn’t like the Laurentis took me out to dinner back in Miami. Wait, she didn’t say dinner. Meet. I could meet. I’d find out where they were and sneak away for an hour. To do or say what—who knew? It would all be fine so long as the Laurentis stayed away from the fashion institute.

  “I sent the text again,” Abuelita said. “And I let Gigi know your number.”

  She chattered on a few minutes, but all I could think was how I would see Ethan. In New York. There were so many options for romantic moments. The train station, Central Park, walking Fashion Avenue, where I’d point out noteworthy locations in the garment district.

  I ended the call in a daze.

  During a class demonstration on flat patterning later that afternoon, my phone buzzed in my skirt pocket. I waited until we broke into groups at our tables before reading.

  In NYC! R u ready 2 party?

  The message came from a Miami area code. This did not sound like Gigi. She most definitely would not ask if I was ready “2 party.”

  A second text appeared.

  This is Ethan. Mom said ur in NYC. Hang with me & Liam 2night! More fun than dinner w parents.

  Oh. My. God.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.

  My vision blurred until I shook it back into focus and read the two messages again. Number one: Ethan texted me. Ethan Laurenti texted me. He texted me. Number two: the text was a direct invitation to hang out. TO HANG OUT WITH ETHAN LAURENTI.

  “Are you okay?”

  I snapped to attention. Amy watched me staring at my phone mumbling to myself like someone out on the city streets. A stack of blank tracing paper waited in front of me. “Yes. Sure. Just a text.”

  Another message appeared. An address. A New York address. Was this where I was supposed to meet?

  “Is everything all right back home?” Amy asked, now looking concerned.

  I slid the phone back into my pocket. I didn’t have time to freak right now with work to do and Amy waiting on me. “Yes. Sorry. Not a problem. All good.” I zeroed in on the pattern paper and our assignment.

  While working, of course my mind wouldn’t focus on quarter-scale tracing. And who could possibly care about darting? Well, I cared about darting, usually. Trying not to think about partying with Ethan Laurenti in New York City made me only want to think of exactly that, and outfit planning, and rehearsing everything I’d say. This was straight out of the daydream handbook: exotic location (urban), posh party (NYC socialites), requested by personal invitation. Everything I could have imagined wanting. I needed time with my Pinboards. All these years of waiting for this opportunity and here I was in New York and had no idea what I would do.

  After the workshop, I discovered another text. Another from Ethan!

  Bring friends!

  How sweet. Ethan assumed I’d want to invite my new friends from the internship. Except I couldn’t. They all thought Ethan was my ex-boyfriend.

  Oh my gosh—I’d never texted back. I frantically typed a return message.

  Sounds fun!! Will be just me, tho. Everyone’s super busy. See you tonight!!!

  I hoped there had not been exclamation point overload, but too late, I’d already hit Send.

  All through my afternoon workroom session I hummed to myself, thinking of what I’d wear tonight. My favorite long skirt and maybe one of the new tops I’d picked up on our sightseeing day. Plus, I had options from Desiree and Amy after we’d swapped clothes and accessories. Now I had a few fitted pieces by designer labels I’d never afford on my own.

  “How’s everything going?” The professor for the design course appeared beside me at my worktable, my dress form fully draped standing by.

  “Good, Professor B.” We all called her that by her request.

  “We need to set a time to go over your thesis project.” She nodded toward her office. “Do you have a minute?”

  I followed her to her office, where the windows stretched from floor to ceiling and overlooked a side street. Down below, cars crunched together in a slow migration. Ethan could be blocks away. Did he know where NYFI was? What if he surprised me and showed up in the lobby?

  “Amelia?”

  “Oh, sorry. Did you say tomorrow afternoon? That works.”

  She keyed in the appointment to her online calendar. “Sounds good. How are you feeling about time management?”

  “Time? Time is great. I’m a planner girl. I mean, like capital “P” Planner Girl. I use a planner.” Though, I hadn’t been filling it out the past few days—okay week—because we were so busy. I’d barely checked in with my Instagram account. Only enough to put material up or repost from other accounts.

  “Time management is key for preparing for design s
chool. We’ll talk about best strategies tomorrow.”

  Only Professor B. kept talking. She was in a chatty mood for some reason. After another five minutes hearing about her experience teaching students in Italy, finally I was able to escape back to the workroom. If I was going out tonight—which I definitely was and needed time to prepare—I’d need to pack up and head back to the dorm.

  I yanked on the workroom door and my body jerked forward. The door didn’t budge. Locked. Why was the room locked down so early? I pressed my nose to the glass window. My phone! Ethan could be texting me right now. Someone with a key needed to get back here and unlock this door.

  “Amelia!” Amy called from down the hall. She held my bag. “I figured you’d want this. I also grabbed your phone.”

  Relief cooled me over. “Oh my gosh, thank you. You have no idea.”

  “They closed the room for security,” Amy said. “I guess someone complained their project was tampered with.” She rolled her eyes. “Like any of us have time for that. If no one is in the room, we have to close and lock the door.”

  “That’s annoying.” If we had to request access to the workroom after hours, I’d never have my dress done in time.

  We reached the end of the hall to the stairwell when Amy spun to face me. “Well? Are you going to dish or what?”

  “Dish? Professor B. only wanted to set a time for us to review my project.”

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “I mean about the party tonight. With your ex.” Her eyes widened on the last word. “Sorry, I wasn’t prying, I swear. The text literally came in the second I picked up your phone.”

  Time to add a password lock. Heart racing, I tapped open the message. Ethan included what time he and his brother would be at the party, and another mention to bring friends.

  “That’s so sweet that Ethan wants to meet us,” Amy went on. “Are you two patching things up?”

  Oh no. This definitely complicated my night.

  “Did you just say Ethan wants to meet us?” Desiree, her laptop bag over her shoulder, joined us at the top of the stairs. “Is he in New York?”

  “A party in the city. Where did he say it was?” Amy peeked over my shoulder to read the message again.

  I edged away from her and started down the stairs. “Um, I think it’s just going to be us. Me and Ethan.”

  Des followed beside me. “You two have been talking again? Did he come to New York for you?”

  “His family is here. His dad has an office in New York and the family is coming up. I just found out today.” I put on my best solemn expression. “I think it would be best if I met up with Ethan alone. We need to … talk.”

  “I wonder why Ethan’s being so casual?” Amy asked. “It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk. He wants to hang out and have fun.”

  “Definitely,” said Des. “Or he’s avoiding having to talk by inviting you to a party with a bunch of people—the whole ‘bring your friends’ thing.”

  By then we’d made it to the cafeteria on the first floor, joining up with Avery and Tess. Tess angled toward us. “Did you say you’re going to a party?”

  “It’s Ethan, Amelia’s ex,” Amy said to Tess. “He’s in the city and wants us all to come out.”

  A cold panic formed at my temples. They couldn’t all come. Their intrusion would be an ambush. At the very least, I needed to get Ethan alone first. I would explain … I don’t know. How could I explain how I’d told my friends he and I were a thing when we’d never been a thing? No, I’d have to convince Des and Amy and Tess and Avery they needed to stay here and let me see Ethan myself.

  I moved up in the food line and took a tray. “Ethan and I, we need to work a few things out.”

  Avery reached for a juice and set in her tray beside mine. “Maybe Ethan is afraid of being alone with you now. The intimacy would make him too vulnerable.”

  “I’m thinking you’ll need us as your backup,” said Amy.

  Avery nodded. “A crew should never abandon in a time of emotional need.”

  My crew? That was sweet and all, but—

  “We can give you space.” Des said this while squeezing between myself and Avery and very likely holding up the line. “We’ll try not to crowd you out.”

  Throughout dinner, I tried convincing my friends I needed to see Ethan on my own. Each of them convinced me they had my back in case anything went down between Ethan and me. All of it was really sweet if I wasn’t completely furious at their interference. I was stuck. Short of feigning illness and quarantining myself in my dorm room—hey, maybe not a bad idea.

  I coughed. “Actually, I’m not feeling so well.”

  “You’re just nervous.” Amy laid a hand on my arm. “It’s going to be emotionally draining. That’s why we’ll be with you.”

  Nope. Stuck.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We tumbled out of cabs—two cabs, since there were so many of us—in front of a brown brick building with glass revolving doors. Avery, in a glittering minidress, led the way into the address Ethan had sent for tonight’s party. With her living and breathing Manhattan knowledge, we put her in charge. The address was super posh, according to Avery. Once inside the lobby, that was clear. Rich mahogany wood walls, swirly patterned marble floors, and a concierge desk clerk ready for us with a stink eye.

  Finding Ethan immediately was crucial or this would be disaster level infinity. No, that didn’t make sense. Quantum disaster. Disaster-geddon. He couldn’t find out I’d made him my fictitious boyfriend. At all costs, he could not find out.

  Avery handled the desk clerk with an inspiring level of New York savvy—she was so rude, he immediately let us pass.

  (Also, apparently there had been a message to let us up.)

  We all crammed into the elevator, everyone talking excitedly except me. Two people I barely knew, who Avery vouched for. They were New Yorkers, too, and talked to each other in code, all about the city’s neighborhoods and subway lines. I couldn’t keep it straight.

  Des kept squeezing my hand. Shame, raw and ugly, kept simmering up unless I tamped it down. This was ridiculous. She didn’t need to hold my hand, at least not for the reasons she was.

  We exited at the eighth floor. At the door, the guy who answered shared Ethan’s same laid-back swagger and charming smile. “Well, well ladies. What a nice surprise.” He wore a knit cap with a snowboarding logo even though outside it was a million degrees. “Welcome to my crib.”

  “Your parents’ crib,” a voice called out behind him.

  The guy shrugged. “It’s my dad’s weekend place. Come on in.”

  The apartment opened into a wide, white space dotted with cream-colored furniture. Only the accents provided color. A red lamp. A gold mirror. A giant beige picture in the entryway. The whole picture was beige and nothing else.

  “Look, you can see the city.” Amy pointed to the far windowed wall, which faced out to neighboring roofs and the treetops of Central Park. A glimpse of the city framed like a painting.

  “Wow.” The Laurentis’ estate was luxurious, but more of the lived-in variety. One of their couches came from Macy’s. This place was a magazine feature. The people in it actually looked out of place, like the rooms weren’t meant to be walked through.

  Strange rock-but-not music blared. The lights dimmed to party-low level, but I could still make out girls giving us the side eye. There was a group of them, all stick-thin wearing tiny dresses or crop tops, but not the kind I saw out and around on Calle Ocho in Miami. This was high-end designer tiny apparel.

  The guy who let us in slung an arm around Avery. “Who invited you?”

  Avery looked at me. “Ethan—what’s his last name?”

  “Laurenti,” I said, my attention flicking across the room for signs of him. I crossed my arms as if that would keep my nerves from rattling. I sort of felt like puking. Maybe my safest move was to aim any projectile toward that tan-colored artwork.

  “Ah, Laurenti. Cool, cool.” His eyes only maintained a h
alf-open status, like he struggled to keep them even partially open.

  Avery signaled for us to follow, zigzagging around huddles of partygoers. Desiree found a spot in the living room area to sit next to Tess.

  “Are you the art school girls?” a guy with thick, red-framed glasses asked. Tattoos of scripted font quotes ran down his arms, ending at a chunky watch. Mr. Laurenti wore a watch like this one, which cost more than Mami paid for her used car.

  “I’m Amelia,” I said over the music. “A design intern. Fashion.” I shifted away from him and closer to Amy. “This is kind of weird,” I said to her. “I don’t see Ethan anywhere.”

  Amy smoothed out her tangle of necklaces. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he wasn’t planning on being here. He’s probably just late.”

  Arty Glasses Guy moved into my line of sight. “Fashion? Consumerism will be the death of creativity. But, you seem like a real free spirit.”

  I instinctively took a step back and squashed someone’s foot.

  “Ow!” The girl I’d stepped on clutched her ankle like I seriously injured her.

  “Sorry!” I said.

  The girl, who wore a multicolored gauzy trapeze tank from Chloé’s spring line (which I’d posted about on my Instagram), took her time viewing my own colorful tank top from the discount-store racks. She sneered and turned away. I guess I should have worn one of Desiree’s loaner tops, but this was my favorite shirt. The brand was an affordable designer; I’d just bought the shirt on clearance.

  “Don’t worry about her.” Arty Glasses was back in my peripheral and he was moving in fast. “She doesn’t understand class as a social construct.”

  “Amelia.”

  I snapped up at the familiar voice. Only the voice didn’t belong to Ethan.

  “Liam?” I tried and failed to shake the surprise from my tone. “What are you doing here?” Oh, now I remembered. Ethan said he and Liam were inviting me out. “Sorry, I mean, hey. It’s just such a surprise to see you in New York.”

  Liam stepped right in front of Arty Glasses, oblivious to his presence. “My parents are having dinner in Midtown. Ethan thought this would be more … fun.” He scanned the room, looking almost as lost as I felt.