Love Lessons

by Daphne James Huff

  “I wanted to talk to you about the Navarre Prize,” my dad says. I stand up. This is not what I was expecting. “How’s it going?”

  “Uh, fine,” I say, moving over to my closet to see if my hat is in there. “Got in some good pages this week.”

  “Are you sure The Secret Garden is the right choice?” He doesn’t sound mad exactly, just disappointed. “It’s not what I would have chosen.”

  I swallow hard. Mr. Marcade hasn’t given his okay about the sonnets, so officially, The Secret Garden is what we’re doing.

  “What you chose didn’t win.” My stomach plummets as the words fly out before I can stop them. Stony silence is his only response and I quickly try to make up for it.

  “I mean, I really want your feedback and input. I’ll send you some pages tomorrow, okay?”

  Of course the rules don’t allow for any outside help, but this is Shelfbrooke. My father may be its most famous literary alumnus, but he’s not the only one.

  “Don’t bother, if you’re just going to get into a fight and ruin your chances anyway.”

  Ah, so this is what he’s actually calling about. To chew me out for defending my friend.

  “I told you, Don was being a jerk to Reggie.” I try not to sound like I’m whining. “He’s been saying stuff for years. It’s not okay for him to talk to Reggie that way.”

  “And it’s not okay if you get kicked out of this competition,” he says. “It’s already all messed up because of this ridiculous group thing.”

  “I know, right?” I attempt a weak chuckle. “It’s all I can do to keep them focused on the project. No girls, no parties.” Except tonight. Which is for school, so doesn’t count.

  Well, doesn’t totally count.

  “Well you better keep them in line,” he says. “You’re so close. It’d be a shame to ruin things.”

  “I know.” I finally spot my hat on the top shelf of my closet. I don’t know when I put it there, but I grab my desk chair and drag it over. “I’ll get you something soon. I won’t disappoint you.”

  He grunts a goodbye and hangs up, leaving me hesitating in front of my closet.

  This is not what I should be doing tonight. I should be writing. There’s so much work to do now that I need to work on the sonnets as well, just in case Mr. Marcade approves the idea. The whole point of avoiding distractions was to be able to focus. And here I am, a reminder from my dad still hanging in the air of what’s at stake, about to spend hours away from where I should be. At my desk.

  A knock at the door and Reggie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Rex, you ready to go?”

  My eye falls on the folder I’ve hidden in here, full of story ideas all featuring blonde angels with strange accents.

  I step up on my chair and grab my hat, hoping I don’t regret this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Zara

  Into the party we go, and while I’m sure it’s excellent for American high school standards, it’s a long way from Venice. I’m too nervous to be disappointed, however, as I touch Maria’s locket at my throat. Rosalie has one of my bracelets on her wrist, while her ring sits on Maria’s finger. With every other part of our bodies covered, it’s the only way to know who is who, if you're paying attention.

  And the boys will definitely be paying attention tonight.

  It’s a strange thing to notice, while I walk through the room, to get the smiles usually reserved for my friends. I knew it had been more than my imagination, and a sick feeling creeps into my stomach to see how friendly everyone seems when they don’t realize it’s me behind the mask.

  Well, whatever these people have against me, I try not to think about it now. The party is actually quite nice, all things considered. The Valentine’s theme means everything is bright red, and they can’t quite hide the bleakness of the classroom walls. But the work the club has done over the past week has made it all look really nice.

  “The food seems to be reasonable, at least,” Rosalie says quietly. I nod in agreement, but don’t reply. We don’t want to talk too much and give away who we are before the moment is right.

  The costumes are just as wild as the talk in the dorms would have me believe. I see sexy pirates, mermaids, Greek statues—all just an excuse to show as much skin as possible. I suddenly feel frumpy in my full body costume. I know the goal is to get the boys to admit their feelings to us, but what if they get distracted by the other options available?

  Reggie is following my every move, and I try not to be disappointed to see Rex make his way toward Rosalie. I take a deep breath. The sooner they can all admit pretending they don’t like us is ridiculous, the sooner we can all get over it. And maybe actually have some fun with the time we have left at this school.

  “Maria?” I turn my head, to see Reggie standing next to me, eyes hopeful under a bright green mask. I can’t tell what he’s supposed to be, but it hardly matters. What matters is he thinks I’m Maria, so I nod my head.

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m not supposed to talk to you, but I can’t help it. I just...I had to tell you how beautiful you are.”

  I look down, as if embarrassed.

  He keeps going. His words are so sweet and pure, I can barely keep myself upright.

  Goodness, could they really like us this much? It all seems so sudden.

  Reggie is looking at me, his eyes full of hope. All he wants is a word, a sign from Maria that she’s willing to give him a chance.

  Instead of answering him, I look around the room to see Rosalie and Maria in similar tête-à-têtes with the other boys. Their heads are turned my way, and I give a small nod, reaching for my mask.

  With a flourish, I whip it off my face.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rex

  Every word I’ve just poured out feels like sawdust in my throat when I see Rosalie’s smiling face.

  They’ve gone and made a fool of us in front of everyone. No Knight Watch needed. At least Don wasn’t there, but it won’t take long for word to get back to him.

  I storm out of the party, Bronx and Reggie following close behind.

  “Well that didn’t go the way I expected,” says Bronx with a grin.

  “How can you be laughing right now?” I’m completely exasperated by him, by the situation, by everything. “This is why I said no parties.”

  “Because this happens at every party we go to?” Reggie asks.

  “Usually we’re not the ones being made to look like idiots.” I ball my hands into fists as I walk. “We could have been writing instead of wasting our time.”

  “It wasn’t a total waste,” says Bronx. “You know they’ll talk to each other. Now they all know how we feel.”

  “And what they did doesn’t put a damper on those feelings?”

  He grins, and it’s a struggle not to put one of my balled fists into his face. “I actually kind of like her more, don’t you?”

  If I weren’t so mad, I’d probably be kind of impressed at how well they tricked us.

  Why is it that even when she’s infuriating, she’s the only thing I want?

  I need a break. Turning left instead of right to go back to our dorm, I make my way to the gardens.

  “Don’t follow me!” I don’t look back to make sure they listen. For once, just let them listen to me without a fight.

  It’s like a noose loosens from around my neck when I get there, but I look down and realize it’s also that my decorative cape has come off somewhere in between the school and here. I consider briefly retracing my steps, but I worry it might be back in the classroom, and I’m not prepared to go back in there. I almost reach to call my mom to ask her to just take me out of school completely, but I stop, my hand halfway to the phone in my pocket.

  What on earth has happened to me? I’m contemplating running away from Shelfbrooke because of a girl? When I’m less than two months away from winning the Navarre Prize?

  I hear footsteps crunching up the path.

&nbs
p; “Guys, seriously, I told you not to follow me.” My hands ball back into fists at my sides.

  “Not a guy,” says a soft French voice. “And I’m not following you.”

  Zara stands before me, her mask gone, but her hood still up. She shivers; the silky robe must not be that thick. Despite everything, I want to wrap my arms around her, to keep her warm.

  I am such a goner.

  “What’s a goner?” she asks, her head tilted to one side.

  My eyes widen. “I, uh, didn’t realize I said that out loud.” At the very least, the heat from my face should be enough to keep her nice and toasty, even from where she’s standing a few feet away.

  “You seem to get into a lot of trouble by saying things you don’t mean, and not saying what you do.” A flicker of a smile flashes across her face. “Rosalie told me what you said to her…to me.”

  I fold my arms and turn away, my throat thick with embarrassment.

  “I totally knew it wasn’t you,” I say.

  “Really?” I look over to where she stands with one arm on her hip and her eyebrows raised. She looks as incredulous as she sounds. I rush to defend myself.

  “Of course. I told you the other week. You’d never hear me say things like that to you again. So I said them to Rosalie.”

  I am enormously pleased with myself for this save, having pulled it out of thin air.

  Zara, however, looks skeptical. “You really knew it wasn’t me?”

  I twist my mouth to the side. I don’t want to lie to her, so I say nothing.

  She sighs and sits down on the other side of the bench. “So we’re back to not talking outside of class?”

  I shrug. It’s a convenient rule right now, even if every part of me wants to yell. Or maybe cry. Or maybe kiss the living daylights out of her. I can’t tell.

  “Look, I’m sorry we tricked you,” she says. “But you guys have been idiots for weeks, pretending like you don’t like us, using this stupid ban whenever it’s convenient for you. It was time to call a cat a cat.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She flushes. “It’s a French expression...It means to be frank with each other.”

  “Well, you made that kind of hard by playing such a dirty trick on us.”

  I can’t tell what’s worse, losing the bet to Don, or losing face in front of everyone.

  “Well, would you have said the same things if we hadn’t been wearing masks?”

  I hesitate but shake my head. It had felt safer, somehow, without anyone knowing who I was talking to, and my own face hidden. It was like the perfect opportunity had dropped into my lap. But then it was turned on its head.

  And somehow, it makes me like her even more. She’s not like the other girls here. Half of them spend their time chasing names and titles, while the other half are nice enough, but they seem to have all agreed on a single makeup and hair routine so that they’re nearly indistinguishable. Dating one is like dating any other. Of course it was easy to swear all of that off for a few months. Scholarship student or suburban princess, none of them have ever pushed me the way Zara has. Tested me, teased me. Humiliated me.

  Maybe it’s because she’s French, or maybe it’s just because that’s who she is. All I know is that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

  And that’s not what I need right now.

  She wraps her arms around herself. She shivers, and this time I can’t help but slide closer. I stop myself before I touch her though, my entire body aware of the thin strip of cold air separating our bodies.

  She looks at my arm, as if she knows what I want to do. What I’ve been dying to do since I first saw her angelic form in the dining hall.

  “I guess touching me is against the rules, huh?” Her voice is tinged with bitter sarcasm, but I can hear the sadness behind her words. Could she maybe want this as much as I do?

  I clear my throat. “I think my exact words were ‘no talking to girls outside of class.’”

  Her eyebrow pops up, and she slides across the half inch of bench that separates us. I can feel the heat of her arm through the layers of silk and cotton that separate it from mine. My heart is pounding, and my breath is a shaking stream of white in the dark night.

  “Let’s not talk then,” she whispers, her face inches from mine.

  I bring my hand up, running it through the silky locks I’ve admired from afar for weeks. I close my eyes, breathing her in, the sweet smell of flowers floating in the cold winter air.

  I’m furious, yet entranced. I know I should pull away, but I am rooted to the spot. She’s exactly what I don’t need right now, but everything I want.

  When I finally press my lips to hers, it feels like the beginning and the end of everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zara

  I float back to my room on a cloud, vaguely aware that there’s quite a few people out in the halls for a Saturday night. Maybe they’ve relaxed curfew somewhat for the party, or for Valentine’s day. I don’t really care either way. All that I care about is holding onto this feeling; everything is slightly shimmery around the edges, like the night is wrapped in champagne.

  I expect Maria and Rosalie to be waiting for me back at the dorm, but the room is empty. Disappointment rushes through me at not being able to gush about it. I made a whispered promise to Rex in between kisses (was it after the third? Or the thirteenth?) that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I doubt he meant my two best friends. I wonder what whispered promises they’ve been busy making.

  But now I find myself alone in the room, with no one there to help me work through the thrill of emotions coursing through me. What does it mean? Are we together now? What should I do next? These are not questions I can answer on my own.

  Instead, I start to relive the encounter again in my head, dwelling on every tiny, perfect detail. The heat of his hand burning through the silk of my costume. The tickle of his eyelashes on my cheek when he bent to whisper in my ear.

  Then I remember the way his eyes had flashed in anger when I first found him, and the bubbling happiness drains from me.

  He'd been more upset than I thought he would at the prank. I see now how important it is for him to keep his word. It would be adorable and insanely attractive, except he doesn’t know how very bad he is at actually doing it. He puts up these barriers for himself and his friends, without seeing that it does the opposite of what he wants to accomplish.

  Of course he’d be mad that I pointed that out to him. In a very public way.

  I touch a hand to my swollen lips with a soft giggle. I don’t think he’s upset anymore. Those were not the kisses of an angry boy.

  I smile as I grab my toothbrush and head to the bathroom. I don't run into many people, and I'm surprised at how relieved I am. Normally I crave the hustle and bustle of a busy dorm, but for once, the silence is peaceful, not scary. I’m alone, and I kind of like it.

  In the calm and quiet echo of the empty bathroom, I close my eyes and remember the feel of his hands as they brushed my hair as held my face close to his. How did we get from arguing to kissing? It’s not what I thought would happen when I followed him out there. I’d only meant to apologize, and to reassure him that no one noticed who he was talking to. Everyone was so involved in their own drama at the party, and his Zorro costume had a mask and a hat. His ban is still unbroken, as far as anyone knows.

  My eyes burst open as the door swings open to admit a gaggle of giggling girls.

  “Did you see his face?” one of them is saying. “It was priceless. He was so embarrassed.”

  A jolt of panic grips my stomach. I glance over quickly at the girls, but don’t recognize any of them. Were they at the Carnaval party? Maybe Rex had been more noticeable than I’d realized. Costume or not, I recognize the way he tilts his head when he’s listening to someone intently, or his nervous twitch of brushing his hair back off his forehead. I forgot I’m not the only one at this school who notices these things about him. And there are other girls eagerly awa
iting the end of his ban.

  Is that why he wanted me to stay quiet? Maybe I’m not the only one getting secret kisses in the gardens.

  I duck my head, concentrating on brushing my teeth to keep from crying. The girls go quiet when they notice me at the sink.

  “So, Katherine, what did your sister say about us going to visit her in Boston next weekend?”

  Their talk turns to upcoming plans, and I brush slower, wondering if they’ll mention the embarrassed guy again, this time by name. My heart is beating wildly, dread deflating the happy bubble I’d been in only moments before.

  I linger longer at the sink, rinsing twice, then pulling out my floss. A very careful examination in the mirror of each tooth occurs before I slide it in between each one. All the while my ears strain to catch their soft words on the other side of the long line of sinks.

  My teeth have never been so clean. My stomach has never felt sicker.

  I think some of them may be in my classes, but no names come to mind. It’s not Bette or Izzy, or even Jackie and her group. My panic rises as I think of how many people were at the party, faces covered. What if everyone noticed? What if Rex really has a reason to be mad at me?

  I swish mouthwash around, the sound drowning out their voices still talking about someone’s sister. I’m leaning over the sink to spit, when I hear a soft “hey” next to me. I whip my head up, mouthwash dripping down my chin. I wipe it away quickly, not meeting the girl’s eyes, but turning toward her.

  “You’re roommates with Maria, right?”

  I nod, my eyes settling on her shoulder. Her tight curls are held back by a gray headband, the dark skin of her face shining slightly from its recent scrubbing.

  She holds out her hand and I mirror her automatically. Something drops into my palm with a soft clink.

  “She let me borrow these. Tell her thanks?”

  I nod again, now close to losing my fight against the sting of tears. The girls collect their stuff and head out the door. The nonstop chatter fades softly as they make their way down the hall.