Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things

by Jacqueline Firkins

  Miss you like bacon

  Love you like you

  Edie

  She hit send before she could start obsessing about every word, looking for ways to backtrack or capitulate. Her message felt raw but right, even if it didn’t earn Shonda’s forgiveness.

  Before settling back into bed, Edie decided to complete one more task, something to make her look forward instead of back. She took out her mom’s stringless guitar and the pliers she kept in the case. She found Henry’s little box in the bedside table. She removed the package of strings that lay inside, nestled in a bit of tissue paper. Uncertain how gratitude and loathing could coexist, along with a hundred other emotions Edie couldn’t yet identify, she began, at last, to string her mom’s guitar.

  Chapter Fourteen

  * * *

  With May came warmer days and brighter sunshine. After school on a Friday, when the temperature spiked to an unseasonable high, Maria (still practically engaged), Julia (still waiting to be adored), and Edie (still playing referee between the two) compiled a playlist of peppy pop tunes and laid towels on the lawn in the garden, ready to soak up the sun. Julia stretched out in a gray polka-dot bikini and scrolled through the latest entries of her favorite beauty blog, A Better You. Maria—elegantly clad in a striped linen halter dress that would coordinate nicely with a summer house in Maine—meticulously buffed her toenails. Edie—comfortably dressed in cutoffs and a 1970s tank-top with a glittery roller-skating centaur on it—rotated between three equally frustrating tasks.

  Failure

  noun

  A state of unemployment that occurs when most jobs require transportation you don’t have and local references your relatives claim you don’t need.

  An accumulation of over two dozen useless essay drafts due to your persistent uncertainty about who you want to be.

  A continued compulsion for writing love songs about the boy next door despite staunchly declining all his invites to play guitar, go swimming, watch a movie, or do anything else that might make you want to dive-bomb his face.

  Edie deleted the entry before she posted it. Shonda was unlikely to find the humor in anything involving someone else’s boyfriend. Aside from an accidental butt dial and an occasional snarky entry about deceit or duplicity, Shonda still hadn’t replied to Edie’s email. Edie persevered anyway, adding posts, sending texts, and forwarding the scholarship list with a heartfelt plea to join her at UMB next year. She knew the chances were slim, but even a glimmer of hope was better than no hope at all.

  She set aside her phone and opened her notebook, willing herself to write a few lyrics that weren’t about starlit smiles or an almost held hand.

  Don’t go racing rainbows for gold that isn’t there.

  Don’t go chasing sunbeams for a handful of hot air.

  Don’t follow the fireflies when their moments are so few.

  Don’t dash after daydreams because all you’ll ever find is you.

  As she started working out a refrain, Julia rolled onto her belly, letting her sparkly flip-flops dangle from her toes.

  “Ooh! Quiz!” she exclaimed. “Naughty or nice: Are you bad enough to get him into bed?”

  Edie groaned. “Why do you read that stuff?”

  “Why do you read that stuff ?” Maria nodded at Edie’s messenger bag, where a thick, dog-eared copy of Bleak House poked out.

  Edie shot her a withering glare. Maria completely ignored her.

  “Actually, this blog has taught me a lot,” Julia said. “Like how to stop being too picky, how to be sexier without being sluttier, and how my body language was sending boys the wrong messages.”

  “You have no body language,” Maria said. “You barely even have a cup size.”

  “At least I’m not a thirty-six fat.”

  “Better than a thirty-two flat.”

  As her cousins continued to snap at each other like coked-up turtles, Edie tried to forget what they were really fighting about: Henry Crawford. Despite his love of magic tricks, he hadn’t managed to perform a vanishing act yet. Instead, he’d worked his way into the hearts of both Vernon girls, giving Julia just enough PG-rated attention to keep her hanging on, and secretly meeting Maria well after dark for what presumably fell into the NC-17 category. Edie didn’t ask for details. She didn’t want to know. The whole situation confused her. She couldn’t understand why two sisters would fight so hard over a guy, especially one who didn’t care much about either of them. Then again, he had an uncanny knack for knowing precisely how to incite a girl’s interest.

  “Well, go on.” Maria flicked the end of her nail file against Julia’s bare heel. “Let’s find out how bad you are.”

  Julia shifted her feet away and scrolled through her phone.

  “Question one,” she read. “Your boyfriend dumps you for another girl. You a) move on, b) key his car, c) key her car.”

  “C.” Maria unscrewed the lid of her dark maroon nail polish. “If some slut moves in on my man, she’ll pay for it.”

  “What if he just gets swept away by a few starlit kisses while you’re busy looking for his coat?” Julia practically spat.

  “She still gets her wheels punctured.”

  Julia shot her sister a sneer. Maria carried on with her pedicure, unfazed. Edie continued working on her song, not that she was making much progress with it.

  “I’ll go with B.” Julia jabbed at her screen. “Question two. At a party you a) clean up everyone else’s mess, b) drink too much, c) kiss at least two guys.”

  The girls pinballed a round of loaded glances.

  “Right. B. Question three. How often do people call you a bitch? a) never, b) regularly, but only my besties, or c) who’s counting? ”

  Unable to concentrate, Edie lay back, set her open notebook over her face, and attempted to ignore the rest of Julia’s quiz. She knew the blog existed to sell products, not to preach truth, but she wasn’t immune to the hype, especially after spending time with girls like Claire and Maria. Claire was so confident and comfortable around other people. Maria was so assertive and unapologetic. They both had friends who looked up to them and boyfriends who’d do practically anything for them. Edie didn’t want to be like those girls, exactly. She didn’t want to be “bad” either. But she wasn’t sure yet how to get a guy’s attention by simply being herself.

  “Here’s me,” Julia said once she’d entered all her answers. “You’re so bad, I’ll bet you think this song is about you. You keep your bad self in check but you know how to embrace your inner bitch.”

  “God knows I’ve seen your inner bitch,” Maria said.

  “Thanks a lot,” Julia muttered.

  “What? I thought you wanted to be bad.”

  “Yeah, but when you say it, it sounds like an insult.”

  “It is an insult!” Edie threw down her notebook and sat upright. “Julia, do me a favor. Turn that thing off for an afternoon.”

  “No, I need it.” Julia clutched her phone against her chest. “Besides, the quiz isn’t supposed to be taken literally.”

  “Well, a little bit literally,” Maria hinted.

  “What does that mean?” Edie scowled, uncertain she wanted to hear the answer.

  “No one wants to date some sweet and innocent type who’s only ever locked lips with a tube of Chapstick. Then again”—Maria assessed Edie’s outfit, arching an eyebrow and curling a lip—“no one wants to date Ghetto Roller Girl.”

  Edie prickled as Maria’s words hit home.

  “Sorry I didn’t dress to impress your mom’s begonias,” she said.

  “Whatever.” Maria slipped a pair of oversized sunglasses from her pocket. “I’m not saying you have to actually be bad, but you could hint at it a little.” She put on her sunglasses and peered over the rims, Lolita-style, waiting for a reply.

  “No thanks,” Edie said. “I’d never pull it off.”

  Maria tipped her chin toward the neighbors’ house.

  “Even if it’d make you-know-who ditch his
you-know-what so you can have his little blond babies?”

  Edie felt her whole body flush as her fist tightened on her notebook. She scrambled for an argument but she suspected any denial would be painfully unconvincing if her face was the color of ripe strawberries.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Hello? This is obvious calling. No one works that hard to avoid a guy unless she really likes him.” Maria flicked a ladybug off her knee, sending it spinning into the grass. “Oh, and Julia told me.”

  Edie spun toward Julia.

  “Sorry.” Julia cringed. “It just slipped out. I thought she already knew.”

  As Edie’s gut churned, knowing her crush was in Maria’s less-than-discreet hands, Sebastian’s boxy little blue car pulled into the driveway next door. Edie started packing up her belongings, ready to make a quick getaway.

  “Point made,” Maria said to Julia.

  Edie went still. Maria was right. She was being ridiculous. No one was going to dive-bomb anyone, or even think about kissing, hand-holding, or naked time at Disneyland. She wasn’t that low on willpower.

  “Please don’t tell him,” she begged.

  “Why not?” Maria asked, as if the answer wasn’t patently obvious.

  “Because there’s no point. He has a girlfriend.”

  The girls all sat up a little taller, craning their necks to peer past the picket fence to where Sebastian was bent over with his car door open, awkwardly rooting around for something in the back seat.

  “Look,” Maria said pointedly, “I like Claire and I like Sebastian, and they obviously like each other, but do you seriously see them lasting past high school?”

  “I don’t know.” Edie flashed through memories of the couple sharing ice cream, working parties, and braiding their bodies together on a lawn chair. “Maybe?”

  “Oh, please.” Maria pushed her sunglasses up her nose and reclined onto her elbows. “The moment Claire gets to New York, she’ll find some sexy city boy she doesn’t have to beg to show up at a dance. She’ll be partying uptown at Columbia while Sebastian’s down in the Village crushing on a ponytailed librarian who texts him in iambic pentameter. They’ll never make it.”

  “Maybe not,” Edie conceded, “but by then I’ll be elsewhere too.”

  Maria scoffed, exasperated.

  “So tell him he’s dreamy,” she said. “Buy a decent bra. Recite entire chapters from moldy old novels for all I care. Just get off your bony ass and do something already. God!”

  “I am doing something.” Edie jammed her notebook into her bag. “I’m detoxing. I’m getting him completely out of my system. I’ve spent nineteen days sober. And counting.”

  “Interesting.” Maria smiled wryly. “How’s that working out for you?”

  While Edie flailed, searching for a cogent rebuttal, Sebastian shut his car door and glanced their way. She tried to duck out of sight but Maria waved him over.

  “Come say hi!” she called. Then she lowered her voice, nudging Edie with a newly pedicured toe. “I can picture them already, all your socially maladjusted little towheads, reading Russian novels by age six, holding up walls at parties by age sixteen.”

  Edie scooted away. “I kind of hate you right now.”

  “You’ll get over it. Julia always does.”

  Edie took out her phone, preparing to look really interested in whatever was on the screen by the time Sebastian met them in the yard. In an effort to save herself the trouble of pretending, she opened her favorite montage of funny cat videos. Beneath a shot of an adorably clumsy tabby sliding down a curtain onto the face of a Labrador retriever, a pair of buckskin shoes stepped up to the base of her towel.

  The cat, Edie told herself. Focus on the cat. Only the cat.

  “You guys busy tonight?” Sebastian asked. “Tom’s on his way from Philly. He wants to host a little barbecue while my mom and stepdad are in Belize.”

  Maria and Julia both enthusiastically agreed to head over later but Edie remained silent, hoping no one would notice she hadn’t replied.

  “Edie?” Sebastian prompted. “You coming?”

  “Can’t.” She watched six little kittens pile out of a watering can. “I need to do a, finish a, there’s a”—don’t say thing, don’t say thing—“deadline coming up.”

  When no one responded, she finally looked up from her screen. There he stood, looming before her, thumbing a dog-eared paperback, his smile warm and sincere, his eyes the color of the sky. Dammit. Three weeks of detoxing ruined in an instant.

  “You sure it can’t wait for one night?” he asked. “I know Tom would like to see you. And it’d be nice to catch up.” He gave her the look that always wore down her resolve, the one that said her answer really mattered. Then he added the kicker. “I finally finished that book you recommended.” He held it up to reveal the cover of Villette. “I’ve been dying to talk about the ending with you. And the second guy she falls for.”

  A hundred yeses fluttered up inside Edie, ready to fly out of her mouth. She was desperate to discuss books with Sebastian but she was also desperate to prove she wasn’t as spineless as she felt. She looked to her cousins for support. Maria was peering over the rims of her sunglasses, barely smothering a smirk. Julia was nervously biting her lip as if all of Edie’s future happiness depended on what she did in this moment.

  Edie’s patience vanished in an instant, as it always did when she was floundering in front of an audience. She was sick of Maria’s patronizing prodding, Julia’s unrealistic Prince Charming fantasies, and Sebastian’s oblivious hey-come-hang-out-while-I-get-all-meaningful-and-then-grope-my-girlfriend-in-front-of-you invites. With a burst of temper, she spat out the only excuse she thought would shut everything down.

  “Actually, I have a date.”

  Julia’s jaw dropped but Maria simply quirked a skeptical eyebrow.

  “That’s, um, great.” Sebastian scratched his neck. “Bring him along. The more the merrier.” He stumbled backwards. “Don’t forget your suits. The pool’s ready to go.”

  Edie flashed him a polite smile. Then she returned her attention to her phone, anxious to avoid logging too many clues about the effect of her impulsive little lie. In less than two seconds she’d already registered the flattening of Sebastian’s smile, the tightening of his posture, and the sudden obsession with the back of his hairline, a gesture she’d come to think of as his tell for feeling awkward, bashful, and maybe even a little bit sulky. She hated to admit it, but it felt good, way better than simply avoiding him for weeks on end. Maybe Maria was right. She could be a little bit bad.

  “Cool,” she tossed out like an afterthought. “See you later then. If we can make it.”

  Despite a niggle of guilt for lying, Edie felt a strange surge of pride. In the space of only a few words, she’d stopped being Poor Edith, sitting around pining for a guy who didn’t like her back, subject to Julia’s pity, Maria’s mockery, and Henry’s self-satisfied lectures. She wasn’t comparing herself to Claire. She wasn’t hanging on Sebastian’s attention, watching for him through her bedroom windows, or storing up quotes to share. Sebastian wasn’t the guy. He was a guy. Nothing more.

  Her eye caught on her dad’s rumpled napkin note, where it was poking out from the front cover of her notebook. I can’t. I’m sorry. Move on. In that moment, Edie turned her mom’s greatest heartache into her own personal rallying cry.

  No more pining. No more waiting and hoping. It was time to move on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  Bad

  adjective

  Unpleasant, unacceptable, or a little bit naughty.

  An appropriately uninteresting chord progression.

  A bizarre combination of fierce and fearful you feel when your cousin offers you an array of swimsuits to choose from, and you forgo the one-pieces for a seriously sexy black bikini.

  Norah was briskly chopping kale when the girls passed through the kitchen on their way out. Bert was sitting at the tab
le, doing a crossword and dabbing dribbled hummus off his potbelly.

  “No hot dogs,” Norah instructed the girls, brandishing a knife that looked more like a murder weapon than a tool for dicing wilted greenery. “And don’t forget to moisturize if you go in the pool. Chlorine’s brutal on the complexion. Home by two.”

  “A curfew? Seriously?” Maria locked her arms across her chest. “We’re only going next door.”

  “As long as you live in my house, you’ll follow my rules, right, Bert?”

  “Of course, dear,” he replied while dipping a napkin in his water glass.

  “Don’t condescend,” Norah scolded. “No one likes condescension.”

  Maria rolled her eyes and headed out the front door. She marched straight through the nearest flower bed, deliberately trampling a few tulips. Edie and Julia skirted the landscaping and caught up near the street.

  “What are you going to do if Sebastian asks where your date is?” Julia asked Edie as they headed up the Summerses’ driveway toward the backyard.

  “I’ll just say he canceled.”

  “Emergency at Nerd Con?” Maria asked.

  Edie bit her tongue and kept walking, wishing to god someone had taught her how to lie properly. The moment Sebastian left the Vernons’ yard, Julia had showered Edie with questions she couldn’t answer. Who was the guy? Where did she meet him? What did he drive? Maria simply waited in knowing silence until Edie caved and admitted she didn’t actually have a date. Fortunately her cousins agreed to keep up the pretense for the evening, buzzing with the excitement of collusion. Edie was far less enthusiastic. Conspiring with her cousins was a shaky proposition. If Julia drank too much, she’d say anything to anyone, and Maria would only keep a secret if it served her own interests. Nonetheless, Edie was on a mission. She might not arrive at the party with a date, but with a concerted effort to overcome her shyness, she hoped to leave with one.