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Chapter Fourteen

Monday morning after homeroom, the smell of pumpkin is in the air. Since it’s October, it’s only to be expected. But I’m still pleasantly surprised when I see pumpkin loaf on the lunch menu as I pass the serving station on my way to a table to wait for Carlton, Rue, and the twins.

I sit and glance out the cafeteria window, awed by a vast landscape of yellow and orange leaves caressing the stone building of Fallbrook.

“Here.”

I jump at the sound of Zayne’s voice. Or maybe it’s his voice, combined with the giant thud of the enormous text he drops on the table.

“What’s this?” I gape at the book, tilting my head to read the upside-down words.

“ Emma ,” he states. “Jane Austen. You’ll love it.”

I frown. “How do you know?”

“I thought you said you were versed in the classics.” He shakes his head. “You love the movie Clueless . And Clueless is a modern retelling of Emma .”

My lips part. “You’re kidding.” I touch the cover with my index finger. “And that was a lie, Zayne. Obviously, I’m not familiar with the classics because I don’t like to read.” I point to myself. “Phony, remember?”

“Well, that changes here and now. Yale, here you come.” He tries not to smile. So serious.

Zayne starts to walk away, but I stand up and shout after him. “Do you really expect me to read this? I haven’t even finished reading our script!”

At that, he turns. “Yikes, Dot.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. But it’s not the same, reading it alone. Maybe we should run lines together soon so I can get through it faster.” Because apparently, three rehearsals a week after school aren’t enough for me. I just have to torture myself with his presence more than necessary.

He shakes his head. “Why don’t you just come over after school? We can run lines all week if you want. My grandma will be home, so you don’t have to worry about whatever it was you were worried about last time.”

At that I blush. “Alright.”

“Alright.” He looks at me pointedly, like I might forget to actually show up even though I just said I would.

After he leaves, I sit back down and glance at the book he left me on the table. Emma. I touch the creased paperback cover, then pick up the book so I can read the back. The spine looks like it’s been cracked over and over, and the image of Zayne reading this book pops into my head. It makes me smile. Especially because I’m pretty sure Jane Austen strictly writes romance.

Before I can read the summary on the back of the book, Carlton plucks it out of my hand. Where did he even come from?

“Reading this for school?” he asks, scanning the cover as he sits beside me.

“No.” Wait, why did I say no? Now I’ll have to tell him Zayne gave it to me! “It’s—uh,” I pause like I’m distracted instead of clamoring for the words that will save me. “My favorite movie is based on it, apparently.”

“What movie? Bridesmaids ?”

“No. Clueless.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence falls upon us. I cross my ankles. Uncross them. Recross them again. It’s strange sitting here with Carlton after basically texting Zayne all weekend. Even when Carlton came to drop off the soup on Friday, I’d barely uttered a word to him. Just thanked him for the soup and he left. Now, it feels like I’ve distanced myself from him. Whether intentionally or not, it’s practically palpable between us.

A strange, sudden instinct overtakes me—a desperation to see if the connection I had with Carlton at the start of the summer is still here, or beginning to dwindle away, like the leftover sparks from a burnt-out flame. I stand. “Carlton?”

“What?”

“Kiss me.” The words sound ridiculous, and Carlton must think so too because he stares at me with his brows in a deep V.

“Why?”

I huff out a sigh. “Are you seriously questioning a kiss?”

The V melts away and he laughs. “No, I guess not.” He stands up, too, until he’s right in front of me. Leaning in, he touches his lips to mine, anchoring me in place with his hand on my waist.

I shut my eyes. I await the usual fluttering in my stomach at his affection, the yearning in my veins. Something. Anything to prove that I’m overthinking things, that my connection with Carlton isn’t disappearing.

But as the kiss stretches out over the painfully awkward, silent seconds, I don’t feel anything, other than the metal table bench cutting into my calf.

Nothing.

Not a single butterfly.

When he pulls away, I paste a polite smile on my face to replace the dawning horror surely visible in my expression. “Thanks!” The words come out too loud. Too high-pitched.

Carlton doesn’t call me out on it, instead responding with nothing more than a tight-lipped lifting of his mouth.

“Hey guys.” Mabel plops several textbooks down on the table. “Today sucks.”

Trailing her are Rue and Meredith. All three of them are wearing identically solemn expressions.

“Mabel, stop whining,” says Meredith. “Your negativity is starting to bring me down, too.”

Rue nods. “I’m with Mere on this one, Mabel.”

Mabel sighs. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She winces. “I failed my calculus test. My mom is going to be pissed.”

Carlton says something back to her, but I’ve stopped listening. Behind Carlton, I catch sight of Zayne walking by. We exchange glances, and I can’t help but smile faintly. He returns the grin before he continues walking. Something flutters in my stomach, and at first I ignore it. But then I realize what it is.

Butterflies.

The much coveted butterflies I was anticipating to feel when I kissed Carlton are now fluttering through my stomach.

All because Zayne Silverman smiled at me.

Mom calls after school.

It’s the first time she’s called in weeks, but it feels more like years. Beau and Dad hover over the phone—on speaker—and talk Mom’s ear off about anything and everything. They want her to come back. They hope she’s feeling better. This house doesn’t feel like home without her. Beau misses her home-cooked meals. Dad is exhausted from working so much, but he can handle it just fine.

She has the perfect response for everything. Of course, she wants to come home. That’s why she’s away getting better. Aunt Lucille’s house doesn’t feel like home to her either—not without us. Mom misses making home-cooked meals for Beau, like his favorite vegetable soup and her crispy but tender chicken-pot-pie. She’s even learned some new recipes from her sister while she’s been away. She can’t wait to make them for us. And of course Dad can handle the work. She’s had faith in him from the start.

I’m amazed they all manage to talk so much, and even more startled when Mom says, “Dot? I’ve hardly heard a word from you. What’s been going on with you lately, baby?”

“Me? Um. I…” I search for the right words. I’ve been struggling big time since you left in May. I have no healthy emotional outlet, other than acting, which I’m not supposed to like as much as I do. I’m caught between my loyalty to the guy who was here for me when you left, and my guilt over thinking the guy who hates his guts isn’t so bad. My every move is being reported to the entire school by an anonymous human in disguise as a bird. I committed to getting into an Ivy aloud to impress you and Dad, but my heart has never really been in it and it’s starting to show. I haven’t been studying and haven’t read enough classic novels to be deemed Ivy-worthy. Deep down, I’m not sure I even want to go to college at all, but acting school really doesn’t sound too bad.

But of course I don’t say any of those things.

Instead, I tell her, “I got cast as the lead in Fallbrook’s upcoming school play.”

“Woah. Hang on a minute,” she says. “You lost me at play.”

I laugh. “I know.”

“And you say you got the lead ? Dot, that’s amazing, sweetie. I didn’t even know you could act. It’s probably going to be a great extra-curricular for your college applications. When is this play?”

“Uh…” I scratch my head. “The first performance is at the beginning of December.”

“I’ve got to come see it.”

My heart stutters, but I try not to get my hopes up. “You don’t have to do that, Mom.”

Her voice is firm. “Yes, honey. Yes, I do. That’s the whole point of me being here, so I have more flexibility.”

“But what if you’re not better by then?” I try not to let the worry in my voice be obvious. “Are you sure it’s a good idea so soon into your program?”

“I will be there, Dot. And that’s the end of it.” She exhales, like we’ve just finished discussing something pleasant, instead of the possibility of undoing all her hard work and progress with one premature trip home. “Now, tell me about your new friends.”