The Boy Next Story

by Tiffany Schmidt

  Merri and Lilly were exchanging the guiltiest and palest of glances. “But you usually say no, and I didn’t know you could hear us,” Merri said.

  “Does that matter?” I answered. “Would it change anything?”

  “If we knew you wanted to come? Absolutely. Always. I always, always want you there, Rory.” Lilly’s eyes were wet, and tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

  “Except for at your wedding,” I replied. My fingers had to be crushing Toby’s, but he didn’t complain or move away. He was my steadiness in this emotional tumult. Honesty hurt.

  “Rory, I can’t change that.” Lilly stepped forward and reached out a hand, but I didn’t move. “And I apologize for not understanding and not asking, but you have to know I wanted you there. In fact, it’s because of you that we did this.”

  I wanted to scoff or snap, Yeah, right, but I was trying so hard to curb the points on my words, to take Toby’s advice to listen and be heard. “Because of me, how?”

  “Your painting. I couldn’t stop staring at the picture you drew of Trent and me and how you imagined me having this happy wedding. And then Dad made that comment about how they’re sacrificing financially to give us our dreams—but the wedding I was planning wasn’t my dream. It seemed like such a waste, them spending all that money on a wedding I hated. You almost didn’t get to go to New York because of it. I don’t want you to miss out on things you want . . . especially for something I didn’t want. I wanted a New Year’s Eve wedding—and I told Trent that if my youngest sister was brave enough to chase after her dreams, I wanted to be brave enough to fight for ours.”

  Lilly slid her wedding band off and held it out to me. “Look, I even turned that into an inscription—it’s inspired by both my sisters.”

  I wordlessly accepted the ring and held it up to the light. Letters were stamped all around the inside of the band: Dream big, live big, love big. Her eyes and cheeks were wet when I handed it back. “I’m the big sister, but you and Merri are my heroes.” She sniffed. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings. I never wanted you to feel left out, and I promise to be better about it going forward. Can you ever forgive me?”

  I pulled my hand free of Toby’s because I didn’t need his courage for what I was going to do next, and I did need both hands. I threw them around her neck. “I forgive you. And I’ll be better about telling you how I feel.”

  I usually felt so pointy and prickly and shrugged out of hugs, but Lilly’s were the best. She didn’t hold back or let go too fast. “I’m so sorry about the wedding. I wanted you there. I really did. It just—It felt like this small window of opportunity to get out of having our wedding be this big social spectacle. And you seemed so happy in New York. I didn’t want you to have to leave early because of me. But I should’ve—”

  “It’s done.” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to have wedding day regrets because of me . . .” Because I was sure she was going to get plenty of guilt from both sets of parents. “I’m happy you’re happy. And I want to hear about it at some point.”

  But not today. Toby was right—I didn’t have to do it until after the emotional bruises had faded. The sketchbooks I’d made each of them this week could wait too. Between the hearts on Merri’s cover were a dozen city dogs; Lilly’s had historic buildings and monuments. They were thank yous for pushing me to chase my dreams, but I wanted to deliver them when my gratitude wasn’t still tinted with betrayal.

  “Thank you,” Lilly said. Her wet cheek pressed against mine.

  Merri had been uncharacteristically quiet, but now she was budging in, all elbows and squirm. “Middle sister coming through, don’t leave me out of this. And I was thinking . . .” Lilly and I locked eyes and exchanged Watch out looks. “You owe Rory a major life event. So, you should take her on your honeymoon. I’ll come too. We’ll leave Trent at home—girls’ trip—way more fun.”

  “Merri,” Lilly warned.

  “Kidding. Trent and I, we’re like this now.” She held up two crossed fingers. “I told him he should take his big-brother job seriously and threaten to bust Fielding’s kneecaps if he ever hurt me.” She gave us a smirk. “He said he’d think about it.”

  I laughed against Lilly’s shoulder.

  A door opened behind me and I craned my head to see Toby at the threshold. He paused and caught my eye, mouthing, Later, before he slipped away.

  I turned back to see Merri watching me. She disentangled first and dabbed beneath her eyes. “Now that everyone’s forgiven and done crying, can we get out the ice cream so Lilly can tell Rory about her wedding and Rory can tell us why Toby’s making googly eyes at her and holding her hand? Not that I didn’t see this coming the second you got your Gregoire assignment—hello, Laurie—but I still need all the swoony details.” She continued to fan her eyes and take deep breaths. “Also, when did I become the boring one? I’m going to tell Fielding we need to do something exciting to keep up with you both.”

  “No eloping,” Lilly said firmly while pressing a tissue to her eyes in some graceful way that prevented her mascara from smearing. “At least not for another seven to twenty years.”

  “You spoil all my fun,” called Merri, already halfway to the freezer. “I bet you’re not going to let me squirt whipped cream directly into my mouth either.”

  “Nope,” called Lilly, chasing after her, but I stayed put long enough to take out my phone and text Thank you. I’ll see you later. The words sounded so ordinary, so insignificant—but I’d put a heartful of sincerity in each one.

  Toby’s response was immediate: Can’t wait.

  An hour later and I was finally headed up to my room to greet my pets. Ariel Eight and Klee Five were swimming and snailing happily. “You don’t even look like you missed me,” I said, then turned back toward the door.

  My handwriting wasn’t great. I’d never have an Etsy shop with cute hand-lettered prints. I didn’t know how to draw with simplicity. In art—as in life—I always overcomplicated and overthought.

  But Clara had amazing handwriting. I’d watched her copy the swoop and curl of letters from the math class posters. I’d seen the locker banners she created for other cheerleaders. And when Huck found out from Clara what I’d asked her to do in my room, he’d wanted in.

  I was sure they’d squabbled about the design, but I hadn’t had to witness it. I’d given them free rein and a lot of trust. Mom had given them access to my bedroom, and even though they’d finished days ago, they’d both refused to send me pictures.

  I stood in the middle of my rug and stared up at the quote they’d drawn onto the wall above my doorframe. Huck had outdone himself with the sketch, a dark bulbous cloud that hovered ominously on the left, transforming via a night scape of diamond stars into a nimble sailboat on the right.

  In between were Clara’s letters. They were the perfect balance between graceful and strong. If I ever got a tattoo, this Amy quote from Little Women would be it: I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship.

  I snapped a photo and attached it to an email to Ms. Gregoire.

  This is my last response journal on Little Women. I finally get it. Why you chose this book for me. It’s not because of the guy next door romance—which is what I’d originally thought. It’s because it’s a story about sisters. And I need mine—needed to remember how invincible we are when we’re together. And how we might not always be, and our trio can exist as a duo—but we’re connected by an unbreakable and invisible bond. But I’m also fairly unbreakable on my own. This year has been one nonstop storm, but I’ve sailed through.

  It won’t always be easy—I’ve got three and a half more years of math classes ahead of me. :) But I’ll get through. Someone wise once told me sailors need three fixed points to navigate. I’ve spent so long trying to navigate based on others’ opinions, but I’m not doing that anymore. I’m going to be my own fixed points, my own constellation. And in the darkest nights, I want to glow bright enough to guide my own way.

  Tha
nk you for picking this book for me and coaching me through it.

  Happy New Year,

  Aurora Campbell

  61

  My parents would probably have grounded Merri for her role in Lilly’s elopement, but she gave them the best reason not to: “I’ve got plans: a double date with Fielding, Rory, and Toby.”

  She might have already informed Fielding, but this was news to Toby and me. I looked at him across the Connect Four grid and he smirked. We’d decided to spend the afternoon playing all the board games we hadn’t played on New Year’s Eve. So far I’d trounced everyone at Pictionary and Merri had kicked everyone’s butt at Scrabble. Now Lilly and Trent were playing a nervous game of chess while they waited for Senator and Mr. Rhodes to come over and join my parents for dinner. Merri, Mom, and Dad were in a round of Monopoly that was rapidly becoming Who can cheat the most obviously—my money was on Mom because she was a totally dishonest banker. Toby and I were tied at two games each of Connect Four.

  Merri rolled a three and moved her dog five spaces. She picked up two cards and discarded the one she didn’t like, then read the bonus on the other. While Mom paid up, Merri added, “And don’t you want us out of your hair while you talk to the Rhodes and Lilly and Trent? Because if I stay home grounded, I’m going to eavesdrop.”

  “Fine, go,” Dad said. “But don’t think we don’t see right through you, pixie. You’ll get a consequence for staying out all night without permission . . . as soon as I think one up.”

  Merri clapped and divided her savings between them. “Sorry, can’t play anymore. I have to go get ready. Come on, Rory. Come back in an hour, Toby.”

  I expected Toby to pop up and cater to Merri’s order, but instead he tilted his head and looked at me while spinning a red checker between his fingers. “You good with this, Roar?” and my heart hurt with how perfect that question was and how okay that made this moment. I nodded. Then he stood, but not until after he took his turn, sliding that red piece into the middle row and then pointing out a diagonal. “Connect Four. I’ll demand my winnings when I see you in an hour.”

  “Your winnings?” I asked with a smile as I put the pieces back in the box. “I was unaware we were playing for a prize.”

  “A kiss.” Toby’s grin was my most favorite one—and if it had shaken me like an earthquake before, now that he was mine, it hit me like a volcano, all my feelings rushing to the surface. He waved to my family, then touched my cheek, tracing the line of my smile. “See you soon.”

  I could’ve walked out the door that minute. I didn’t know what Merri had planned for her spontaneous double date, but I would’ve gladly gone in day-old yoga pants and the blue-gray tunic I had on. It was Toby and the best part of dating him—No, the best part of dating him was him, but one of the great things about dating him was not being nervous. I didn’t have to primp or dress up. Unless I wanted to. Merri wanted to so much that her desire became infectious. I traded yoga pants for jeans, swapped the tunic for a sequined sweater from her closet, and finished it all with the senator’s boots. “How soon until I can borrow those?” asked Merri.

  But that didn’t take even close to an hour and for once I was the one bouncing and impatient, and thinking of how Laurie describes his relationship with Amy to Jo—“We were so absorbed in one another that we were of no mortal use apart”—until Merri relented. “Fine, see if Toby’s ready. I’ll text Fielding to come over.”

  Eliza showed up at the door as the four of us were gathering to leave. She held up a bag of popcorn. “There’s a Hallmark movie marathon. I assumed my presence was required.”

  “Oh.” Merri’s face crumpled with guilt. “No, I can’t. I have plans. A double date with Toby.”

  Eliza looked from Fielding to Toby and back to Merri. She didn’t need to say a word; her expression gave whole monologues about what a bad idea she thought this was. “Toby’s dating someone? He actually talked someone into going out with him?” Even those words were marinated in skepticism.

  Fielding laughed, but then when Merri screeched, “Eliza!” he realized she wasn’t joking, and it turned to a choking cough.

  “Yup,” I said lightly, laughingly—because I was not going to let her ruin this.

  Toby grinned at me. “It’s fine. Even Eliza can’t get to me tonight.”

  “It’s just—” She shook her head. “Sorry, that was rude. Clearly I’m processing this slowly. Who is it?”

  Toby raised our hands, which had been linked the whole time.

  “Surprise?” I said softly.

  “Toby and Aurora?” She tilted her head and looked between us. “How did no one think of that? You two are so compatible.”

  Merri blew out a breath of relief and everyone laughed.

  “Someone did think of it,” I answered—and exchanged winks with Merri.

  “Who?” Eliza demanded. “Because I’m kicking myself for not putting it together sooner. It was right there in front of me. And you even asked me about him and—Who?” she repeated, shaking her head, incredulous someone had been more perceptive than she was.

  “Louisa May Alcott,” I answered. “And Ms. Gregoire.”

  Merri’s nod was a full-body action, and if I had to guess, I was only seconds away from her ripping my hand from Toby’s so she could give me a hug or discuss all the finer points of her Our teacher is magic theory.

  “No. Not that again. I’m not talking to you two.” Eliza turned to Fielding and Toby. “You realize your girlfriends are delusional, right?”

  Girlfriends. It was such a lovely word.

  Fielding and Toby chuckled.

  “I’m used to it by now,” said Toby, pulling me closer. “It’s what makes life interesting.”

  Fielding smiled down at my sister. He freed his hand from hers to unbutton his coat and spread the lapels. “And I’m not going anywhere near that statement beyond saying Merrilee is my best adventure.”

  Merri went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and on her way back down she nuzzled against the sweater he’d revealed, which must have been a gift from her. It was a dizzying red-and-white-checkered print—and taking up the entire torso was a basset hound in a Santa hat.

  Toby sounded like he was choking behind me. When he composed himself, he whispered in my ear, “Promise me you’d never . . .”

  “Never’s a very long time,” I teased before turning to Eliza. “Just wait. Maybe there’ll be a book in your future too.”

  Eliza raised her hands like she could erase my words from the air or shield herself from their meaning. “No. You take that back, Aurora Leigh Campbell. Absolutely not.”

  Merri was rubbing her hands together in glee. She folded them and then bit down on her knuckle. It was probably the only way she could keep herself from agreeing with me and listing a whole library full of potential titles.

  I tipped my head back on Toby’s chest and he brushed his lips against my hair. In all the perfect moments I’d imagined in all my years of daydreams, nothing compared to standing there with my sister and our best friend, who was no longer an obstacle between us. I tightened my fingers around his—this was real. He was mine to sketch and talk to and drive with and math with and listen to as he played music. The only thing that had changed was that I’d do those things with his hands in mine and his lips on mine. This was just the beginning, this foyer full of happiness and harmony, where I knew what Merri was thinking and went ahead and said it for her—after all, wasn’t that what snarky little sisters were for?

  “Why not?” I asked Eliza with a grin. “More impossible things have happened.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  When I was eight, my Aunt Terry gave my older sister and me a giant edition of Little Women. Its pages have gold edges, it has beautiful illustrations, and it’s large enough to use as a step stool. I read it before my sister and promptly claimed it as my own (I still have it if you want to demand joint custody, Heather). My takeaways from that first read were: I’m some hybrid combination of Amy and
Jo, pickled limes sound gross, and I badly want my own Theodore Laurence.

  I’m so grateful for that book and for all the people in my life who have given me books over the years or listened when I rambled about them and my own stories. I was so fortunate to grow up in a family and community that valued reading. I’m beyond lucky to work with the people who fostered and supported the novel you’ve just finished reading.

  Anne Heltzel and Barry Goldblatt, there are no words for how grateful I am to have you on my team. I’m a better writer and a happier human because you’re both in my life. Thank you. To the rest of the Abrams crew: Andrew Smith, Marie Oishi, Tessa Meischeid, Masha Gunic, Carmen Alvarez, Penelope Cray, Nicole Schaefer, Jenny Choy, Brooke Shearouse, Jessica Gotz—endless, heart-squish gratitude.

  My own older sister, Heather, who cast such an impressive shadow I worried I’d be forever lost within it—thank you for always loving me, hearing me, and championing me. Like the Campbells, our united sister powers are unstoppable. To my younger brothers, who let me read aloud to them and who participated in plays I wrote and directed—much like the March sisters—thank you for letting me boss you around while dressed up in my ballet costumes. And my parents—thank you for weekly trips to Stevens Memorial Library and pretending not to see the glow of flashlights beneath my door when I read long past bedtime.

  To Jessica Spotswood, Lauren Spieller, and Bess Cozby—sorry, not sorry for making you cry. Thanks for all the walks in the woods and the late-night critiques and carrot cake at Highlights (thanks, Amanda!). To Courtney Summers, Emily Hainsworth, Annie Gaughen, Tricia Ready, Nancy Keim Comley, Jen Zelesko, Stacey Yiengst, Claire Legrand, Katie Locke, Elizabeth Eulberg, Heather Hebert, Jenn Stuhltrager, Kristin Wilson, and Karen Lash, I want to have you all over for a Gatsby/Little Women movie night and feed you all fun drinks and cookies and tell you how glad I am to call you friends.

  To my Mrs. Gregoire, who is even more magical than her Bookish namesake—thank you for believing in fifteen-year-old me, and thank you for teaching me to believe in myself. I hope everyone has a teacher like you as part of their journey. I’m so grateful that my twins have found their way into the classrooms and hearts of truly gifted educators—most especially Rachel Griffin-Snipes.