Merri whispered my name at the same time Eliza yanked my arm.
“What? Do you need me to go deliver a Check yes or no note to Curtis?”
“Of course not,” snapped Eliza. “But since that teacher has called your name twice now, it would be prudent if you responded.”
I glanced at the front; Mrs. Mundhenk was standing at the podium. “Aurora? Rory Campbell? She was here this morning. Oh, I hope she’s not an early dismissal.”
Ms. Gregoire’s comment about my life about to be more complicated seared my mind. I froze on the bench.
“No, she’s right here,” Merri called out, and I felt the room whirl toward me. My smile felt cracked and crooked. Like the face in one of Picasso’s cubist paintings. Only, his were a stylistic choice and this was just the best I could do.
I hissed “Traitor” under my breath as she and Eliza pushed me toward the aisle.
“Oh good.” Mrs. Mundhenk exhaled into the microphone. “Will you join me up here, please? I have some exciting news to share.”
My little-big sister was a ferocious figure when she wanted to be and I watched her from the front of the room as she moved against the flow of students to make her way to me. It wasn’t a path of “Excuse me” and awkwardly dancing left and right to pass and pivot. Instead she charged forward and expected people to part. They did. She’d learned that from Eliza. Fielding and Toby trailed behind her. Toby shaking his head and smiling my way, Fielding lagging to issue apologies and explanations. Not that they were necessary, but he couldn’t help himself.
I braced myself for Merri’s whoop of congratulations and wrecking ball hug. And she did give me those, but not until after she propped her hands on her hips and demanded, “Wait. You get to go to NYC? I want to go. How is this fair?”
I snorted into her hug—giving Toby a high five behind her back and nodding at Fielding’s formal “This is quite the accomplishment, Rory. I’m happy for you.”
Prying Merri’s arms off me, I responded, “You do not want to go to New York. You’d miss your subway stop every time because you’d be too busy patting stranger’s dogs. And you hate cities.”
Toby opened his mouth and I prepared myself to be reprimanded for mocking Merri, but instead he joined her in laughing.
“Okay, that’s true.” Merri’s giggles had turned her cheeks pink, or maybe that was from Fielding smiling at her like she was delicious as he laced their hands together. “But . . . still. I want some big, shiny honor too! I mean, I always get good grades and I never get in trouble.”
Fielding coughed and raised his eyebrows.
“I rarely get in trouble,” Merri amended. “And I’ve got straight A’s.”
I ground my teeth to keep from flinching as her words landed with laser accuracy on my oldest vulnerability and newest defeat—but she didn’t know about that. When I could keep my voice level, I sharpened it. “I guess the universe likes me better.”
I didn’t tell her I wasn’t going. There was no way I could go, because there was no way we could afford it. The thing about doors and opportunities is they lead to each other. Just because we’d scraped together enough money for me to attend Hero High didn’t mean I’d have enough to take advantage of the possibilities it offered. There’d be fancy class trips, fancy fund-raisers, fancy who-knew-whats. I’d have to get good at saying no to them.
Which wouldn’t be a problem most of the time. It wasn’t like I wanted to say yes. Not to anything but the Snipes workshop.
I was holding my breath in an attempt to hold in tears. Looking at the nearest stained-glass window so everyone wouldn’t see them shimmering on my eyes, because there was no one to blame but myself. Ms. Gregoire was wrong; it was hopeless.
I’d thought if I got my GPA high enough to be a nominee, I’d be okay. It didn’t occur to me that grants would also be GPA-dependent and require a higher standard. And mine didn’t meet it.
“Hey.” Toby had cut in closer while Merri and Fielding flirted about a someday trip to New York where he promised not to let her get lost. “You okay? After the whole stand-in-front-of-the-school thing?”
“You mean do I still want to die from humiliation?” I pulled the corners of my mouth up, because that’s what I was supposed to do, but really I wanted to cover my face with my hands. “Being embarrassed in Convocation is clearly a Hero High rite of passage: Merri by Monroe, Fielding by Merri, me by Mrs. Mundhenk . . .” I widened my eyes in mock horror. “Are you next?”
He laughed. “Let’s get you home, you . . . What was it she called you? ‘A prodigy like she’d never seen before’? I want credit for recognizing this way back in my Batman sticker days. Watch out New York—here comes Roar.”
“Heyyyy!” I looked up just in time to avoid being steamrolled by Clara’s hug. “So many congrats!”
“From me and Byron too,” said the pretty brunette I knew from student council and Clara’s stories. It was Byron’s twin, Lynnie. “He’s a little disappointed he didn’t get picked, but he’s truly happy for you.”
I believed her, but I’d also watched his face fall when I’d stood at the podium. They should’ve chosen him. He could’ve gone.
“Thank you.” As they waved to go, I called out, “And tell Byron thanks too.”
The acceptance form and paperwork were in the bottom of my backpack, so I kicked it. Mrs. Mundhenk had gone over the details while the rest of Convocation continued. The deposit was due next week; that alone would empty my bank account, and it was just a sliver of the total.
“When do you come home?” Merri asked.
“New Year’s.” I needed to stop feeding the fantasy of me going, but maybe for one night I could pretend.
“Ugh, I hate when people say ‘New Year’s.’ Does that mean Eve or Day? Lilly is the worst with this, because one of those is her favorite holiday and they’re literally different months and years. Be specific, people!” Before I could clarify, she whirled to Fielding, reaching for his hand, then twirling under his arm like a ballroom spin. She spun back in and said, “It’s like a.m. and p.m. and noon and midnight. You know what I mean?”
“Not a clue.” Fielding smiled down at her, then continued their dance by dipping her. It was like they were competing on an imaginary game show to win the title of Most Romantic Couple. Except that would require them to realize other couples and the rest of the world existed. They were just that smitten. Ugh.
“Like, ‘midnight’ has the word ‘night’ in it, so it should be p.m., and noon is the end of the morning, it comes right after eleven fifty-nine a.m., so you’d think it’s twelve a.m.—but it’s not. Or is it? I can never keep those straight. Everyone should just use ‘noon’ or ‘midnight.’ Agreed?”
Fielding smiled and kissed her cheek. “Maybe we should switch to military time.”
Merri tilted her head. “Could you? I’d actually like that a lot.”
“Sure. I’ll pick you up at eighteen hundred hours.”
“Your homework in here?” Toby’s voice cut through my spying on the Merri-and-Fielding show. He seemed to purposely avoid looking in their direction as he scooped up my backpack and slung it on his shoulder. “C’mon, Roar. Let’s go mix up some black bean brownies and knock out your math while they’re in the oven.”
“Black bean what?” I laughed and caught up with him, because he’d started down the aisle without me.
“Someone—Curtis—informed me I’m failing as your Knight Light because I haven’t done the whole baked-goods-in-your-locker thing. Then Eliza chimed in with this recipe so I ‘couldn’t use your plant-based diet as an excuse.’” He held the door for me. “I wasn’t planning on it, by the way. I would’ve googled.”
“Black beans?” I asked, scrunching my mouth to the side. “Brownies?”
“Should we try it? Because if they don’t work, I’d love to tell Eliza she’s wrong. And good news like this needs celebrating.”
I tilted my head at him, skipping down the steps in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible an h
our ago when I wanted to melt under the combined gaze of every Hero High student. “You’d really eat black bean brownies?”
“For you, Roar?” Toby said, and I knew I’d never stop loving the way he said my name. He’d graduated from the knee brace, but he still looked cautious as he made his way down the stairs to where I waited, grinning from ear to ear. “I’d even eat broccoli.”
40
“Aurora? Can you come down here, please?”
One of these days Dad was going to discover it was easier to text than to stand at the bottom of the stairs and bellow. But the realization didn’t occur to him that Wednesday night.
“One minute,” I hollered back. I’d just gotten out of the shower where I’d used Lilly’s fancy Dead Sea scrub to scour every inch of me. For once I was entirely paint-free. It wouldn’t last long, but after telling Mrs. Mundhenk I couldn’t go to New York City and study with a famous artist, I felt like I didn’t deserve to have charcoal beneath my nails and acrylics and oils striped and spattered across my skin.
Mrs. Mundhenk had been devastated. I’d found myself apologizing. Sorry we’re not rich? She wanted this for me almost as much as I’d wanted it for myself. “This workshop only happens every four years.”
I’d given a weak laugh and suggested, “Well, what are the chances I won’t repeat at least one grade before I graduate?”
The joke hadn’t been well received. She’d thought I wasn’t taking it seriously; I thought she needed to look a little closer and see I was seriously close to losing it. It’d been the worst kind of stalemate. I’d solved it by faking a migraine and having Lilly pick me up early.
I’d hidden in my room through the afternoon and dinner, faking sleep whenever Lilly came to check on me, but now Mom and Dad were home from the store, and I’d blown my cover by showering. I dragged a comb through my hair and threw on the closest clean T-shirt and yoga pants.
Mom was sitting at the table, a stack of bills, their checkbook, and two mugs in front of her. She nudged one toward an empty chair and pointed at me. Dad was standing by the sink, his hands wrist-deep in soapy water. He wiped them on the frilly pink apron he always wore while doing dishes. Merri had bought it for him as a joke last Christmas, but he wore it proudly.
“Your art teacher called,” Mom began. “She told us about this workshop? It sounds like a big honor to be selected.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Dad.
The answer was right in front of them. I could’ve lifted one finger and pointed at it, but like their unpaid balances, it would have to wait. Instead I shrugged slowly, like my shoulders were full of rusty gears. “I don’t want to go.”
“No?” Dad’s forehead was scrunched. He was the one who drove me to art classes. Who’d surprised me by having one of my first paintings professionally framed. He had them lining the walls of their office at the store. He was the one I’d told my big-city dreams to, back when I still confided things like that without feeling ridiculous.
“I’m only a freshman. I won’t know anyone. I don’t want to give up my whole break.” These were the excuses I’d come up with while lying under my covers. I hadn’t meant to blurt them out all at once, but maybe it didn’t matter because Mom was nodding.
“I can’t imagine my baby girl on her own in that huge city. Maybe your senior year.” She took a sip before adding, “Maybe. If you’re ready.”
“Are you sure, Rory?” Dad’s forehead hadn’t unbunched.
“Sure about what?” Merri skipped into the kitchen in pajama pants with sled dogs racing up each leg. Her mismatched socks were neon green and pale yellow. She’d topped these with her hideous tie-dyed bathrobe. She went to the fridge. “Don’t mind me, just getting a snack. Pretend I’m not over here, totally eavesdropping.”
The bedtime munch, Toby had called it, and now I wanted one too. A bowl of cereal or a piece of toast with peanut butter. But those things would tangle with the knots formed in my stomach when Dad said, “The Snipes workshop.”
Merri’s answer came from deep within the fridge. “Gah, it sounds amazing. I’d kill for a weeklong workshop with one of my heroes. Can someone please reanimate Fitzgerald or Austen or any of the Brontës?”
“Rory isn’t feeling ready to do the workshop this year,” Mom answered for me. “But she’ll have other chances.”
“No, she won’t.” Merri stood up with a cheese stick in one hand and a roll of cookie dough in the other. I seriously hoped she wasn’t planning on combining them. “What the heck, Rory? You planning on staying back a grade? Because this workshop is only held every four years.”
“Calm down there, pixie,” said Dad. “If Rory doesn’t want to go, be sensitive to that.”
“Doesn’t want to go?” Merri was shaking her head like she was trying to dislodge water from her ears. She pointed the cheese stick at me. “What are they talking about? You want to go. She wants to go. She stood in front of the whole school and glowed—I repeat, Rory in front of the whole school—when they announced she’d gotten in. She didn’t even puke.”
“I didn’t glow—that was radioactive embarrassment,” I mumbled, but no one was paying attention to me. Merri had kicked the step stool into the middle of the floor and climbed on it.
“Her room is practically a shrine to Snipes. She’s been talking about art in New York since you stupidly showed her how to tour museums online when she was six. This is her shot. She’s going.” Now the cookie dough was in my face. “You’re going.”
I shrank back against my seat, tucking my knees up. “No, I’m not.”
“For once in your life let yourself want what you want!” Merri was gesturing with both hands now—like an air traffic controller holding batons of different sizes. Both pointed out the open front door in the direction of the Mays’ house.
I wanted to slip under the tablecloth. To crawl out of the room with my face covered. Because she knew. And I didn’t know how long she’d known or the extent to which she knew, but Merri knew the other thing I wanted this badly. The other thing I couldn’t have.
“Sounds like everyone in here needs to take a deep breath.” Lilly dropped her purse on the table and toed off her shoes. She’d let in the frigid night air, but at least she’d shut the door behind her, so Merri was no longer pointing directly at Toby’s house. “What’s going on?”
Merri was the first one to blurt out a summary, and I wasn’t sure why I was letting her control the narrative. Her version might have been true, but it wasn’t the interpretation I wanted Mom and Dad believing.
“Rory doesn’t want to go,” Mom countered when Merri finished, but she’d lifted the end of the statement into a question.
“Can we borrow Rory for a second?” Lilly asked. “For a Campbell sisters huddle.”
Dad nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
My stomach knotted as Merri hopped off the stool and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Ow! I can walk.” I squirmed out of her grip and followed both my sisters upstairs to Lilly’s room. Merri shut the door behind us and leaned against it. Lilly went over to her dresser, watching me in the mirror as she removed her earrings and placed them carefully in her mother-of-pearl jewelry box. “What’s going on, Rory? This sounds like it would be right up your alley.”
Lilly’s room was pale gray and everything was just so. Compared to the riot of color of Merri’s room and mismatched inspiration walls in mine, it was soothing—boring. I walked over to her desk and began to fiddle with her pens. I’m sure she cringed when I knocked them out of precise alignment, but she didn’t stop me.
“I can’t go.”
“At least that’s finally more honest than ‘I don’t want to,’” said Merri.
“Rory, we just want to know what’s going on in your head and why you’d say no to this.” Lilly reached into her top drawer and fished out a stress ball. Handing it over, she steered me to her bed and then quickly straightened her pens. “I know we’re all busy. Merri’s go
t a boyfriend and sports and whatever Eliza’s dragging her into. I’ve got the wedding. And you’re never around. You’re either next door or shut up in your room painting—and you hate getting interrupted, so I never know if it’s okay to knock.”
I blinked at her description of my life. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it was a perspective I’d never considered. I was the unavailable one? Me? The stress ball dropped from my hand and off the duvet. I watched it roll across the hardwood and come to a stop by a pair of mismatched socks: yellow with pink mermaids on one foot, bright green avocados on the other. Merri scooped up the ball and tossed it back to me. “You need like a code or something—tie a ribbon on your doorknob if we can come in without getting yelled at.”
“I don’t . . . yell.” But I used to, back when they used to come in my room . . . and I guess I had when Merri barged in on Toby and me two nights ago.
“You know you’re not alone, right?” asked Lilly. “If you can’t trust your sisters, who can you trust?”
I snorted and closed my fist around the ball, feeling it compress against my palm. “When have you two ever trusted me with anything?”
“Rory, I would never have gone to that first yoga class by myself. Do you know how important and empowering that was for me?” Lilly sat on the bed beside me and looked me in the eyes. “I needed to be in that body positive space—but I wouldn’t have gotten there if you hadn’t agreed to go with me and then pushed me to keep going.”
I squirmed. We’d taken classes together for two years, her driving home from college to pick me up. Over the summer, we’d upped it to twice weekly. But since September we hadn’t gone at all. I had no idea it was part of her eating disorder recovery. “I just thought it was fun.” And that she’d done it with me because Merri was allergic to sitting still and meditation.
“It was fun, because you were there with me.” Lilly squeezed my hand and my eyes began to itch.
“And me—” I twitched my gaze over to where Merri was standing, ruffling through our big sister’s closet. “You know those cartoons with the angel and the devil that perch on the character’s shoulders talking them in and out of bad decisions? Toby’s the daredevil saying ‘Yes’ and you’re the sarcastic, tattletale angel who tells me not to jump off the swings, or hitch a wagon to Gatsby, or try sledding in the pool, or—”
The Boy Next Story Page 23
