She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1)

by Jessica Calla

  I lean toward my mother and grab her hands. I want her to yell at me, or bawl, or hug me, or something, but she doesn’t. She sits there ,still as a statue.

  I drop her hands, and Dad follows me out of the kitchen. “Juliet,” he calls after me. I stop, and he pulls me into a hug. “We love you. So much. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I know your mother is, too. She’ll get back to you, I promise.”

  I shake my head. I know it’s the most he can give me now. “Okay, Daddy.” I don’t mean to make him feel bad. “I love you, too.”

  I drag myself to my bedroom and do what I always do in Evander after I’ve had a conversation with my parents—I call Ben.

  Ben picks me up at noon and brings me to the Riley house, or as I like to call it, the Riley Madhouse. It’s total chaos, with wall-to-wall Rileys of all ages. There’s food, animals, music, and gift wrap everywhere. As soon as I walk in, Nathan, one of Ben’s four brothers, is all over me.

  “Juliet Anderson, aren’t you looking fine?” He scans my body, and I think about kneeing him in the groin. “When are you going to go out with me?”

  “Um, never?” I cringe but wind up smiling.

  “Can I feel you up, at least?” Nathan winks, and Ben smacks him on the back of the head.

  “Not today, but thanks for the offer.” Within seconds of arriving, I’ve forgotten that I’m an Anderson with my terribly dysfunctional family. Now, I’m a Riley in the middle of their sweet crazy.

  Mrs. Riley, wearing an apron over her red holiday dress, walks over to give me a hug. “Merry Christmas, Juliet.” She pats me on the back. “Sorry about Nathan. I took antibiotics when I was pregnant with him.”

  I chuckle and Nathan whines. “Ma, quit telling people that!”

  I smack Nathan on the arm and turn to Mrs. Riley. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

  “The more, the merrier,” she sings as an oven timer buzzes. “You’re always welcome here.”

  One by one, the Rileys greet me, their faces lighting up as they wish me Merry Christmas. They’ve been my surrogate family for four years, and since the shooting they’ve seen more and more of me. Grandma Riley asks Ben when he’s going to marry me and make me an honest woman.

  Ben dodges the question. “Ma,” he yells into the kitchen, “Grandma Riley needs her meds.”

  We all laugh, but Grandma Riley doesn’t let him off the hook. “Well, Sam’s married and George is getting married. That makes you next.”

  Nathan yells from the dining room table, where he’s stuffing his face, “What about me? And Evan?” Ben’s the youngest of the Riley boys.

  “You’ll never get married, Nathan, because you’re a playboy,” Grandma Riley says, pointing a crooked, wrinkled finger at Nate. “And Evan’s too good-looking. He scares the girls away. They all think he’s gay.”

  “Mother!” Mr. Riley’s jaw drops, and the boys all laugh.

  Just then, Evan walks into the room, and I try to remember to breathe. He’s a god. Seriously, perhaps the best-looking man on the planet. “I’m saving myself, Grandma,” he says in his swoony voice, “for the right girl. Like they did in the old days.”

  “You’re the best one,” Grandma says, pointing a finger at him.

  “Hey!” Ben yells.

  She waves at Ben. “You, too.”

  “I’m so confused,” Nathan whines.

  Before I know it, dinner is being served and everyone’s laughing and happy around the table. I sit next to Ben’s sister-in-law, Sam, who’s married to Ben’s brother Sam and is pregnant with the first of the next Riley generation. They keep teasing that they’re also going to name the baby Sam. She asks me how I’m doing since the shooting.

  “I’m trying to be better.” I don’t know what else to say, so I take a sip of my water.

  “Ben, too, I think.” She smiles across the table at Ben, then turns back to me. “He tells me you’re in love with his roommate.”

  I spit out my drink and start to choke, drawing all eyes to me. “I’m okay.” They all look away, except Ben.

  “He told you that?” I whisper to Sam out of Ben’s earshot. When he realizes I’m not going to choke to death, he turns back to the other side of the table.

  She nods. “He’s learning to accept it. It’s okay, you know. You don’t have to worry about him.”

  I will always worry about Ben. “Ben’s the easiest thing in my life. He’s my rock.”

  “And Chase?” She smirks and raises her eyebrows.

  I pull my hair and groan, “Arrrggghhh.”

  Sam laughs. “Yep. That’s what love feels like.”

  “Is it? Like I want to scream and wring his neck and kiss him all at the same time?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ugh. Maybe I’ll try girls.”

  Sam laughs. “Nathan will be so disappointed.”

  We laugh around the table for hours as Evan sets down platter after platter of food. He insists on keeping his mother seated. “She did all the cooking, so it’s the least I can do,” he says. Honestly, Evan’s a dream. I sigh and think about someone to set him up with.

  In between dinner and dessert, I check my phone. Everyone texted their well-wishes, except for Chase. How is he doing today without his grandmother? Has he told Rob that he’s his son? Is he spending the holiday with Sara? I start to tap out a text to him, but then erase it. None of the words look right on the screen, so I take my phone into the back den and call him.

  He doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message. “Hi. I was thinking about you and wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I…” The words aren’t right so my voice quivers. I hear myself say, “And that’s it.” I end the call.

  Back in the living room, the Rileys’ dog, Busterina, is stuck in the Christmas tree and Ben and his cousins are trying to free her. I shake my head and walk to the kitchen to help Mrs. Riley put out the desserts.

  When the doorbell rings, we all stop what we’re doing and stare.

  “Aren’t we all here already?” Mrs. Riley points and counts the people in her house, while Ben jogs to the door and opens it.

  A familiar set of purple eyes scans the room and land on mine.

  Chase

  When I find Juliet in the crowded room, her eyes widen. Suddenly, I can’t remember how to talk. I think I may be sweating.

  Ben saves me. “C. C.! Come in.”

  “Sorry to bother you all on Christmas.” What the fuck am I doing? I run my hands through my hair and shift in the doorway until Ben pulls me in.

  Mrs. Riley meets me at the front door and pulls me into a hug. “Chase, come in sweetie. You’re just in time for dessert.” Since the first time I’d met her, she’s always hugged and fawned over me like this. She considers all boys her sons, Ben had said.

  Upon witnessing Mama Riley’s approval, everyone goes back to whatever they were doing—except Juliet. I find myself moving toward her as I talk to Ben. “I know I’m barging in, and this isn’t the smoothest move. I have to talk to—”

  “Jules, yeah, I figured that’s why you’re here.”

  It dawns on me that I’m being I’m a prick. I shake my head. “I know it’s a dick move. I’ll go if you want.”

  “No, no,” Ben says, patting me on the back. “I think she needs to talk to you, too.”

  I hesitate, thinking he’s setting me up for another punch.

  “It’s okay, really. I’m good.” Ben nods. “Make her happy, okay?”

  I’m not sure she’ll even talk to me. “I…I’ll try. I’m no you, though.”

  Ben scoffs. “Consider yourself lucky. I have to go untangle my dog from a tree.” He points toward Juliet. “Go.”

  Juliet turns away from me and walks around the giant table, setting down forks. She’s wearing black pants and boots and a tight red shirt. Her hair hangs loose down her shoulders. “Hey,” I say to her back. “Merry Christmas.” I jam my hands into my pockets and wait.

  She stops moving and turns to face me. “What are you doing here?” />
  I smile. She’s nothing if not direct. “I came for you.”

  She squints at me and continues around the table. “I thought we’d decided this wasn’t going to work.”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to that.” When she turns to me again, I smirk.

  “Really?” Sarcasm drips from her voice. I shrug, and she walks up to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you want, Chase?”

  I think about it for a second, then decide on honesty. “You.” I take a step closer and twist a strand of her hair around my finger. “I want you to come with me.”

  She jerks away, and her hair slides through my fingers. “Where?”

  “I have to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a surprise. Come with me.”

  I can’t stop the grin. Juliet loves surprises, and I’m certain I’ve convinced her until she snaps at me. “No.”

  “No?” I shift, not sure I heard her correctly. I hadn’t factored a “no” into my plan. “Why no?”

  She shakes her head. “Because I’m confused, and I don’t get you.”

  I reach for her hands and she lets me hold them. “I’ll un-confuse you then. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such a complete asshole. I’m sorry about the things I said at my grandmother’s funeral. I’m sorry about missing Frank’s service. I’m sorry for everything. Please, come with me.”

  “Where?” she asks again, more gently this time. “If you don’t tell me, I’m not going.”

  “School, okay? Does that mean you’ll come?”

  Juliet squints hard at me then turns away. She walks over to the group to talk with Ben. He says something, she listens, they hug, and she comes back to me.

  “Fine. I’ll go.” She lifts her chin, and I see the fire in her eyes. “I have to call my parents and get my coat.”

  “I’ll wait for you outside, gorgeous.” She scoffs and grimaces, but I beam at her. I thank the Rileys, and Ben walks me out.

  The three-hour car ride from Evander is the perfect opportunity to keep Juliet as my captive audience. I don’t know where to start to explain the mess that’s been my life, so I decide to simply go down the list. “I’m not eighteen like the rest of you. I’m nineteen. I spent the year after high school in outpatient rehab. I have a problem…an addiction problem…with alcohol and pills. Gram secretly applied to NJU’s art program on my behalf and applied for the scholarship. She forged my name on the application and wrote my essays. She submitted that painting, the one over my mantle, and checked the mail everyday waiting for the response.”

  I peek at her, wondering what her response will be, but she says nothing as she stares out the window.

  So I go on. “When she told me I’d received the scholarship, she convinced me to take it and to move to the dorm. She said it would save my life. I went to NJU with good intentions, but I wasn’t ready, I guess. Like I said at Halloween, I think my purpose in going there wasn’t to find me, but to find you.”

  I sneak another peek. She’s still looking out the window, her arms crossed. I know she’s listening when she says, “Keep going.”

  “I’m on probation until my birthday. Sara and I were arrested for disturbing the peace. I’m allowed to go to New Jersey to school, but that’s it. That first day on the train when we missed our stop? Technically, I was violating probation. Drinking, drugs, fighting, all violations. Being here in Pennsylvania? Violation.”

  “So you’re a criminal?”

  “I guess so. A reforming criminal.”

  She ignores my quip. “When’s your birthday?”

  “February first.”

  “Keep going.”

  Somewhere along the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border, I tell Juliet about my trust fund. “My parents and Rob had some major art deal when I was a kid, I don’t know. They never touched the money and they put it in trust for me. All three of them, even Rob. I don’t know much about it. I only tapped into it once. For you.” I tell Juliet that I’d funded the mystery scholarship that Miss Stephanie had offered her for ballet. “I wanted you to dance, but I also wanted you near me. I knew if I offered you the money outright, you wouldn’t take it.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t have. But thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I glance at her but she’s holding strong. No signs of color, no fire.

  “Continue,” she says, as she looks out the passenger window.

  I sigh, dreading the next bit. “The night before Frank’s memorial service, I called Sara. Mostly because I couldn’t deal with the sadness and the fear. We didn’t sleep together though. I mean, we slept together, but we didn’t have sex.”

  Across from me, she shrugs.

  “I swear,” I add. “Do you believe me?”

  “I do.”

  The weight of my secrets begins to lift as I talk. I tell Juliet that, historically, I’d used women and alcohol to numb myself. Sara was the first woman I’d ever felt something for and had committed to, but I realized that our relationship was toxic on so many levels. I tell Juliet about the baby, about how I tried to stop the abortion. “I think she uses my guilt about that to keep me close, or maybe it’s her guilt that keeps her tied to me. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Chase.” She sighs, and I think that’s the last straw. That she’ll ask me to turn around and bring her back to Evander. Instead, she asks, “Is that everything?”

  “Yes.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel free. I don’t have to worry about my secrets anymore. If she leaves now or if she decides to stay, she’s informed. I sneak a peek at her, but my nerves get the best of me. Focusing on the road, I stutter, “I-I’m so sorry for everything. I want to focus on the future. With you, if you’ll have me.” I tell her that I’m back in AA, I’ve ended things with Sara, and I’m trying to get back on track with the New Life Plan.

  “I’m glad.” This time when I glance at her, I see her colors swirl in shades of green. It’s not the pinks I like to see, but I’ll take it. “Thank you for telling me all of that.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I love you,” I say. Our line. It’s a ballsy move and I know it.

  I catch her grin, but then she looks back out the window. “I know,” she murmurs.

  She’s still not on board with me. I hope my surprise remedies that.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Juliet

  Chase parks the car at the Student Center and leads me to Sheridan Hall. “It’s not open until after the New Year,” I say.

  “Is that so?” he says, one eyebrow raised, walking me to the door. He whips out a swipe card. “I have connections. Will you come in with me?”

  I haven’t been to Sheridan since the day it all happened. I look at the door, then at Chase. If I’m going to step inside again, I want to do it with him. “Yes,” I answer.

  Chase swipes the card, and I remember the morning of the shooting—the morning I’d spent pacing outside. My biggest worry then had been how to tell Ben about Chase. We step into the stairwell, and my breath catches. I’m not sure I can move.

  “Are you okay?” I see the concern on Chase’s face, and I loosen my grip on the handrail. I can do this. I squeeze his hand as he leads me down to the basement.

  When he opens the door to the hallway, I stare past him, mesmerized by what’s before me. I’m not in the basement of Sheridan Hall anymore—not the Sheridan Hall I remember, not the Sheridan Hall where Frank was murdered. Instead, I stand in a hallway full of color and life. I step onto the drop cloths that cover the floor.

  “Chase!” I breathe. “Oh my God!”

  The smell of fresh paint awakens my senses. Color shines off the walls of the hallway. My heart pounds and my breath stops, not from fear, but from awe.

  “Start here.” He stands in front of room one.

  Across from my room, Chase had painted a giant-sized Pooja sitting in lotus position, her hands in prayer, dressed in a colorful sari. She floats on the wall like the goddess she is, her co
lors swirling around her flowing hair, her big black eyes looking down the hallway. I want to keep staring at her, but I want to see the rest. I smile at Chase, and he looks at the floor.

  I’m next to Pooja. I wear a black leotard and pink tights and toe shoes, and my leg extends behind me in an arabesque. Red lips line my smile, and my brown eyes reflect joy. Swirls of pinks and reds surround me. Chase painted a red heart on my chest with a faint dotted line extending from it.

  “Oh, Chase,” I gasp and run down the hallway following the dotted line to the men’s room door and the other portraits, to the two doors to the lounge. The dotted line circles around a giant-sized Ben, but then ends where I’d hoped, at Chase’s heart. He’s painted himself in the bottom corner of the hallway in front of room six, smaller than the rest of us. He sits behind an easel painting a picture of me as a ballerina.

  I giggle and remain in front of room six. I examine Chase’s portrait of Ben. Chase painted Ben larger than life, from ceiling to floor in an NJU jersey, arm cocked back, ready to throw a football. Ben’s face, complete with the scar over his eye, smiles right at the viewer, confident and beautiful.

  I sigh as I move toward the Fives, who sit on a grassy hill surrounded in a gray mist, which I know is Chase’s not-so-subtle nod to their smoking habit. Musical notes float up to the ceiling over the lounge doors to Rocco.

  In the middle of the hallway, between the two entrances to the lounge, Rocco’s portrait stares down at me, as large as the painting of Ben. He has bulging muscles and a big white smile, his dark hair held back by a red bandanna like he wears when he works out. On his flexed bicep, Chase painted a tattoo—of Pooja.

  I smile at Chase again and grab his hand as I continue down the hall. Megan and Maggie hold cups of coffee and books and smile at me through a sea of red hearts. The steam from their coffee cups wafts toward the ceiling, their sweetness shining through their giant smiles. The steam from Maggie’s coffee cup floats over Megan’s head and morphs into a black wire, held by Winston.

  I pull Chase after me. Computers and gadgets with colored lights surround Winston and Rodrigo, tangled in a mess of wires. Chase painted their heads bigger than their bodies. I shake my head, smiling.