I called Simon back yesterday, but he didn’t answer. What did Whitney see anyway?
I rinse the shampoo from my hair.
It’s not like we’d sexted or anything. We’d kept our messages subliminal. Quiet. That’s it. Right?
I try to think, but this stupid cloud keeps me from doing so, and I don’t like it.
What could she have seen that made her flip a lid?
Simon never got back to me.
My dad is sitting at the dining room table when I make my way downstairs. He’s drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. The way he used to do.
The Before Dad.
Years ago.
Before his drinking dictated when he woke up in the morning, if he went to work, how he treated his family. Before he abandoned us.
Our eyes connect, like the time they did when I received an academic award in eighth grade. With a sea of people, Dad’s eyes linked with mine, and I knew he was proud.
But this morning, his eyes are softer, more compassionate. Like he’s giving me room to breathe without saying a word.
“Hey,” he says. “I made pancakes.”
I shake my head, and I’m not sure if it’s to shake off his nice gesture or because I don’t like pancakes anymore, and he would have known that if he’d hung around a bit longer.
“I’m good. Just taking an apple,” I say.
I reach for the door handle.
“Liv?” he asks.
I look up, and he’s turned toward me in his chair.
“Are you okay?”
No, actually, Dad, I’m not. I’m taking pills now to cope with losing Jasper. I’m taking pills to cope with you leaving us. I’m taking pills, Dad, because, somehow, taking pills is far easier than dealing with life on life’s terms. And I’m a whore who’s probably going to get called out on it today.
“Yeah.”
Quietly, I shut the door behind me, drop down the stairs, and see Simon, who’s at my car.
“I tried to call you back,” he says as I approach him.
“What did she see?” I ask, trying to push away the dread building in my stomach right now.
“Nothing really. I just brushed it off like it was no big deal and that we’d meet at Hawthorne Hill to talk about J. I told her that we had a bond that no one could understand.”
He tries to grab for my hand. I avoid him and walk to the driver’s side.
“So, why all the panicked text messages, Simon?” I drop my hands to my waist, my backpack on my shoulder.
“That was before she and I talked.”
When he texted me on Sunday, I started to feel like the cat was out of the bag, and in some weird way, I felt relief because maybe then this would be the beginning of truth. That hiding this big, fat secret was only causing more heartache than it was worth—and not the heartache of longing, but the heartache of measuring my morals against Mother Teresa or something. Like my morals didn’t exist. And I thought, somehow, maybe this was our gateway to the truth.
So, when Simon goes to touch my hand again, I pull away. Making it obvious that we need to stop all this nonsense.
“Simon, we can’t do this anymore.”
“What?”
“This. Us. Together. Touching. Having sex,” I finally say the truth.
Finally, one right decision.
Livia: 1
World: 633
Simon chews on his cheek. “Liv…” He stalls. “When…when I’m with you, I feel like the world stops. And I feel like your body understands mine. Like the grief we both feel can only rid itself when we’re together.” His eyes search the ground but then make their way back to mine.
“Well, you can’t feel that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because you aren’t supposed to, Simon. We are two people grieving the same person, but it isn’t healthy because I feel like a whore. You have a girlfriend,” I sigh. “A good one.”
“I can break up with her if that’s what you want.”
“No! I don’t want that.” I open the driver’s door.
I chew on these words before I spit them out because I’m sure it will hurt him, but maybe by hurting him, he’ll walk away and get on with his life. “Simon, I don’t like you in that way. What we had were moments that held us together because our hearts were broken. We sought refuge in that. We hid from the world. We hid our dirty secret.”
“Dirty? Is-is that what you think?”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.” I get into the car, and he leans his hands on my window seal.
He’s hurt; I can tell. Just like the time he and Jasper got into a fight, a physical fight, when we were eight. I pulled them apart while they swung, and I took a hit to the jaw, but it didn’t stop me. Simon’s giving me the same look.
“I don’t know what we shared, Liv, but it was everything but dirty. Have a nice life.” And he removes his hands from my car. He climbs into his truck and leaves.
I rest my head on my headrest and text Cao.
On my way. Running late.
I wonder if I’ll see Daniel today. I didn’t hear from him yesterday. It makes my stomach grow with hidden anticipation.
But I tell myself, Why would you bring him into my chaos? His mother is dying. You’re taking pills to cope instead of seeing Dr. Elizabeth. You sleep with a boy to smooth out the wrinkles in your heart. A mess.
I don’t see Daniel on the way to Cao’s, and we don’t see him on the way toward school. And he didn’t text me at all on Sunday. I begin to feel less significant.
Handing Cao my phone, I tell her to read the last text messages from Simon.
“What the fuck?” She covers her mouth. “Does Whitney know?”
I nervously bite my thumbnail. “I don’t think so.” My stomach feels like it’s full of knives and brass knuckles. I pretend like I don’t care, like it’s not a big deal, when, clearly, it is. “We didn’t say much through text. Simon was at the house this morning.”
Cao turns to me, her mouth agape.
“He said he told her that we were just friends and that we were just tight because of Jasper.”
“Oh my God, Liv. Seriously.” Cao’s hands are now on her head. “If I could speak Chinese right now, I’d totally be praying to the gods that Karma didn’t come in and kick your ass.”
“I know, I know. I told him we couldn’t do this anymore.” My voice grows quiet because I start to acknowledge the fear that I just brushed off moments ago. “The sex thing,” I whisper.
“Well, you’ve got that right. Besides, what about British boy? Hot ginger. Daniel.”
“I went to his house.” I think about what happened in Rose’s room, and I want to tell Cao, but I feel as though I can’t do the story justice, or it’s just too unbelievable for people who aren’t familiar with that sort of thing, so I skip it. “How was your trip?”
“What? No. You went to Daniel’s house, and you just want to stop the story there? Don’t think so. Continue.”
“Nothing to tell. I met his mom. He made me a sandwich. His dad came home. That’s it.” Not sure how private he wants to remain about his mother’s sickness or the fact that his dad is colder than the center of an ice cube.
“Your face says otherwise, Liv.” Cao smiles. “You like him.”
“How was the trip with your mom?” I try to change the subject.
“Torture,” Cao sighs. “She took me to an authentic Chinese restaurant.” Cao thinks. “Mr. Kwan’s. My mom ordered me sea cucumbers.” Cao pushes on her hot-pink velveteen pants to smooth out the wrinkles. “But, Liv, the sea cucumbers thought they were a vegetable. They weren’t bad. But I think I’d prefer something more like sweet and sour chicken.
“But Mr. Kwan insisted, ‘Sea cucumber. You order. You love. Healthy. Delicacy.’” She imitates Mr. Kwan.
“And then he looked at me like I was supposed to know. I ate half of my dish, mostly the rice. Then, we went back to our hotel room after we went to China Town, and because I w
as curious”—Cao rolls her eyes—“I Googled sea cucumbers.” She makes the face. The face that looks like she’s about to puke or explode. And the probability of her exploding is highly unlikely.
“Are you going to puke?”
Cao shakes her head and slowly drags it in my direction. “Do you know what sea cucumbers are?”
I shake my head.
“They look like uncircumcised penises floating through the ocean, Liv. Uncircumcised penises! And do you know what they do to protect themselves when they’re in danger?”
I’m trying not to laugh. I’m trying to be a supportive best friend because Cao still looks like she’s about to explode. Or puke.
“Big, fat penises,” she whispers under her breath, still attempting to push through the wrinkles on her pants. “They propel themselves to safety by expelling their guts, Liv.” She huffs. “Explain that one. I don’t even know if I’m a virgin anymore after eating one. Or maybe I am, but maybe I gave my first blow job and didn’t even know it!” Cao shakes her head again. Her face is turning greener and greener.
Don’t you dare laugh, Liv. Hold it together. Explain that she’s still a virgin. And that she didn’t give her first blow job.
But I decide to go deeper—without laughing. “Why don’t you just tell Beth that you didn’t smoke cigarettes in an identity rebellion and that you are all right with who you are?”
“You know my parents, Liv. They’ve overcompensated my whole life. And, when they found out about the cigarettes, they flipped the hell out and became extreme. Like…like bad.” Her eyes grow big. “Anyway, the trip was a disaster. Mom tried to pretend she was Chinese, too. It was really weird. She’s taking a Chinese culture class through the community education in Eureka two nights a week. Liv, she wants me to go. I told her no, that I already have a lot going on with school and that I can’t handle another class. Plus, who’s going to manage the Humboldt-based Ed Sheeran Fan Club besides moi?”
Why do you take to French so easily and not Chinese? I want to ask her.
“Since when?” I turn left onto Main, toward the high school.
“Since I started a page last week. While locked in the bathroom at home. Smoking a cigarette.”
I pull into the parking lot, shaking my head, and look around for Daniel, knowing full well he drives.
“I don’t see your ginger anywhere.”
“Not looking for him. I’m looking for a parking spot,” I lie and pull into a spot halfway between the school and the end of the parking lot.
“Right.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her backpack from the backseat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Whitney stalking toward me like I slept with her boyfriend.
And Daniel moves toward me with a certain swagger. A swagger only made for me.
Two worlds collide into one.
An explosion.
Earth crashes into Jupiter. Everyone dies.
Daniel slows as he sees Whitney charging toward me. Cao stands at my side, puffed up like a best friend should be.
Whitney’s finger is pointed at me before she’s close enough, before I can hear the words spewing from her mouth.
“And, for the record, I had him first. You might have known him longer, but I had him first.” She heaves. “You ever come near Simon again, and I’ll rip out your throat.” Whitney’s words are clear. Her fire continues, “I know what’s going on. I’m not dumb. And here you are, playing the I-lost-my-twin-brother victim role. News flash, Liv: The world doesn’t revolve around you.”
The heat from her fire quickly disappears when I don’t argue back. I deserve every single word she’s spewing at me.
Daniel walks up behind me. “Everything all right?” he whispers, his hand slides into mine.
Please don’t touch me. I don’t deserve his hand. She’s right. About everything.
Whitney stares at Daniel and then at me. “Got me? He’s mine. Hands off.”
“Okay,” is all I say.
Whitney storms off just the way she stormed over.
“What was that all about?” Daniel’s hand tightens around mine.
But it’s over with Simon, and Daniel doesn’t need to know. Simon and I are over. I can move on.
But this little feeling prickles at my heart. A life built on lies is no life at all.
For whatever reason, I can’t seem to make the right decisions, the practical ones. As if I’m trying to take the easier, softer way, but it’s only making life harder.
All three of our phones chime at the same time.
Cao is the quickest, as always. “BeLHo’s Blog.” I hear the tension in her voice because we know what this means.
We know that BeLHo is going to ignite and blow out of proportion what she—or her spies—has just witnessed. Because, let’s be honest, who didn’t witness it?
Daniel is staring down at his phone, too.
“Couldn’t resist?” Cao says to Daniel as we begin to walk toward first period.
“I like to be well informed,” he counters as we read and walk, still stealing sideways glances at me, perhaps hoping for an explanation that I don’t want to give. Yet.
Blog Heiress
Well, Belle’s Bitches, it’s official.
Leah Moran was spotted at Belle’s Hollow Women’s Clinic. Why? Who knows? But sources tell me that she’s looking for more than just the pill. We will see in nine months if there’s a little Pattison on the way. Or a little Watson. Or perhaps an Adams baby. Keep your legs closed, Leah!
Chemistry answers have been removed from the link. LAME! So, hopefully, you wrote them down like I told you to do.
Student Council has just announced the two options for this year’s prom: Haunted House or Masquerade Ball. Both stupid in my opinion, but if you feel you need to voice your opinion—I will do a write-in—cast your vote here: www.belleshollowprom2017.vote
Also, the school carnival will be held November 15. Remember last year when Levi Watts drank too much punch? Don’t do that. It makes for an icky mess when throw-up gets stuck in the carpet.
LivJam…can anyone tell me what that means? It means, three’s a crowd. And someone is being really sneaky.
Hawthorne Hill anyone?
Until later,
BeLHo
Jasper and Livia, Age Ten
After the Police Are Called for a Domestic Disturbance
“Jasper, do you think Mom and Dad are getting a divorce?”
“Go to sleep, Liv.”
Quietness.
“Jasper?”
“What?”
“You’ll never leave me, right?”
“Never.”
“If they get divorced, who will you pick to live with, Jas? Please say me and Mom. Dad will kill us.”
“Go to sleep, Liv.”
Cao elbows me as I read.
“Liv, may I speak to you for a moment—alone?” Daniel asks.
Cao gets the hint. “I’m out.” She holds the peace sign with her fingers, kisses it, and heads to her English class with Mr. Joe.
Not my class anymore. My dropped class.
“What was that all about with the blonde girl with the shrill voice?”
Lie, Liv.
Liv the Liar.
Livia Stone, Liar of the Universe.
At some point in my life, I’d like to start telling the truth again. But fear gets ahold of my mouth first because lying has now become second nature to me.
Give him the truth, Liv.
He deserves it.
You like him. Stop lying.
I give him the partial truth and partial lie. “Simon and Jasper were best friends. Since Jasper passed, he’s been there for me. And I, him.” It’s a convenience thing, Daniel. Really, I’m a liar. I have been having sex with Simon, and even though it doesn’t feel good, it’s a way I can just forget about everything. “We text, and Whitney found some of our texts back and forth.” I try to justify my actions. “It’s innocent. But I think she’s reading into it more tha
n need be.”
Daniel shoves his hands in his pockets. I think about going to grab for one of his big hands. But I don’t.
He asks me an easy question, “Do you like him?”
“No. Not like that.” I’m clear. I think. I add, “Not at all, Daniel,” for good measure.
He nods and cocks his head to the right, as if trying to read my internal dialogue.
“What?” I say.
“I’m just going to be frank with you, Livia. I like you. I like spending time with you.” He pauses, almost hesitant, and takes a step closer with quiet confidence. “I like the way your lip curls when someone mentions your current president.”
I take notice when he says your president, not our president.
“I like the way you talk about cheese fries and death. Maybe it isn’t the two things put together but rather that facts are important to you. I like that. I like the way most conversations you have take place in your head and not aloud. And I love the fact that you can’t keep your mind quiet when you’re around me.” He pauses. “But, right now, I’m not sure you need all the added pressure of someone like me.” He pronounces all like oll.
“I like the way you pronounce words,” I say in a fluster because I can’t think of anything better to say. “All, the word, I like the way you say it.” Think, Livia. You like him. Tell him so. It’s no wonder you’ve never had a serious boyfriend. Either way, I’m totally unpolished in the boy department, unslick with no game. No game at all. And I’m calling the No Game Police to come arrest me for lack of coolness.
Daniel smiles and bites the corner of his cheek.
The bell rings.
In an almost panic, he slides his hand around the back of my neck, and I feel his lips brush against my ear.
I don’t have feet anymore; they’ve left. Betrayers.
“I’d really like to be your friend. For now. And I promise I won’t pull you by the neck and whisper in your ear because, trust me, it’s harder for me right now to let go of you. I promise I won’t touch you. Or grab your hand. Until we can decide what to do next.”
In an instant, Daniel is gone, and I try to find my betrayers. I need to splash cold water on my face, so I make my way to the girls’ restroom before class.
Standing Sideways Page 14
