Page 25

MAY

There was a somber cloud over New Helvetia High as prom inched closer. Paige was surprisingly the first one to suggest not going.

Jodi sat silently through weeks of waffling over group texts as they talked through the pros and cons of just riding around in a limo or staying in at Zack’s to watch a movie. Jodi didn’t care. High school was ending. The trial dates were looming, and nothing was right.

Going to prom wouldn’t be “going to prom,” no matter what they did. She focused on finishing the backdrop for West Side Story , which would open the weekend after prom.

Surprisingly, it was Julian who burst into the group chat a week before the dance and said, fuck it guys. let’s do this, with a mirror selfie of him trying on his tux.

The picture appeared as Jodi was in the kitchen waiting for water to boil. She felt her skin itch in irritation at how good Julian Hollister looked in formal wear. His bowtie was undone, loose around his neck, and he had one hand in his pants pocket, leaning back on his leg. She scoffed to herself, shaking her head at how unfair it was to all of humanity that Julian Hollister knew how to wear his clothes.

Her eyes were tracing the long lines of his legs when a splashing sound caught her attention, and she realized she’d been staring at the picture long enough for the water to boil over. Jodi turned down the burner, swallowing down her mortification.

Not fair, Jodi texted back. You have 10 tuxes in your closet im sure. the girls have to scramble now.

Lucy was quick to agree with him that they should go, and she told Jodi she could wear last year’s dress no problem.

Jodi frowned down at her phone as Paige and Zack got dragged into agreement, then ran downstairs to tell Rosa the good news. Her aunt had been sending her links to dresses for the past month.

They’d decided against a limo this time. Greg Thrasher allowed Zack to go to his senior prom, but only if he didn’t draw attention to himself. Which Jodi found to be a hilarious caveat because Zack drew attention to himself wherever he went.

Cheryl Montgomery swung by Rosa’s in her Land Rover at eight, and Jodi squeezed into the third row behind Zack and Lucy. They went to pick up Julian next—his tux perfectly pressed and shoes shined. When he dropped into the seat next to her, she felt that pull again—that need to say thank you that bubbled so close to the surface. He barely glanced at her before buckling his seat belt and asking Zack about a new video game release that had been announced. Jodi stared forward, feeling immensely idiotic for holding out hope that they could go back to what they had before the car drove off the bridge. That wasn’t even their “normal,” so there was no reason to think it would continue.

When Paige stepped out of the passenger door onto the school’s red carpet, she looked like a fairy princess in white and gold. Lucy was in a faux tuxedo with a plunging neckline that almost got her stopped at the door.

Jodi was climbing out of the SUV, trying to navigate her heels, when she realized they were all ahead of her. The four of them were already on the red carpet, already moving to the doors, already the perfect team. They drew attention to themselves no matter what. The Thrashers.

“Have fun, Jodi!” Cheryl broke her concentration. “If they get too drunk, call me. You have my number.”

Jodi grimaced and thanked her, shutting the car door. She trotted behind her friends in uncomfortable heels, watching them ahead as if through a frosted window. Her on the outside, in the cold.

Inside the dance, Jodi stood at Paige’s elbow, feeling like she was just a step behind in every conversation.

“Pictures?” Paige asked the group.

“Just not the five of us. We can split a bit,” Zack said softly, and Lucy nodded.

But once they were at the photographer, Lucy and Paige asked for a couple’s photo, then Paige wanted a picture with Zack, and then Lucy grabbed Julian for a funny pose. Jodi had that sensation of being underwater again, trying to fight for the surface. No one wanted a picture with her. It wasn’t that they didn’t want one, it’s that they didn’t think of it. She was an afterthought. She wondered how long she’d been an afterthought.

Her face burned as her eyes stung, and she felt mortified to be standing at prom on the verge of tears. Her throat felt choked with all the pent-up loneliness she’d carried since finding out how her mom died—since she was subpoenaed against her friends—since the first time, years ago, that she waited all night for Zack to text her back, only to hear, sorry i was with julian.

Zack turned to her, and she looked away so he wouldn’t see her burning eyes. “Jo. Picture?”

She shook her head with a thin smile. “I’m good.”

Her breath shook as she tried to remind herself that he did think of her, even if it was an afterthought.

Jodi felt completely out of control by the time Paige suggested that they better vote for prom king and queen.

“I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” she said, and though Lucy acknowledged her and Paige told her where they’d be, no one seemed to notice how the first tear had escaped her eyelashes before she could turn toward the doors.

Jodi pushed through the crowd into the hallway and leaned on a set of lockers to steady her breathing.

She felt so foolish. What would she even say if anyone asked why she was crying? My friends’ lives don’t revolve around me? I got sad, and getting sad got me sadder?

She listened to the music change, a clear sign that the dancing was starting, and once her chest felt empty again, she headed toward the theater wing.

Oliver had made her a copy of the key to the theater’s scenic lab a few months ago so she could lock up if she stayed late working on the backdrop. The play was in six days, and Jodi could think of nothing else she felt like doing except putting a workshop apron on over her gown, kicking off her heels, and prying open the paint cans. She would probably get paint on her dress, but she wondered if anyone would even notice.

She unlocked the door, reminding herself to relock it on her way out, and kicked off her shoes. Jodi looked over the city landscape she was almost done with, just highlights and darkened windows still needed. She could take a half hour to pop the cans, make some progress, and clean out the brushes before wandering back to the dance floor. A childish part of her wanted to never go back—to see if they would leave the dance without her, if her phone ever buzzed.

She was just mixing the grays together when the heavy door pushed open, cracking harshly in the silence. Over her shoulder, she watched Julian take in her painter’s apron, her mixing trays, her heels discarded on the concrete floor.

She expected, What are you doing? Or, Is everything okay? But when he just moved into the lab and let the door close quietly behind him, she realized that was what Zack would say. Zack would punch through a problem head-on. As he skirted around the far lab bench, she realized that when faced with a problem, Julian either ignored it or cozied up to it. He leaned forward on the clean workbench, elbows braced in front of him, and stared at the backdrop. She wondered which he was choosing today.

“What’s the plot of this one? More dead lovers?”

“Yeah, actually. West Side Story is Romeo and Juliet , but set in New York in the fifties.”

“And they sing?”

“They sing.”

He was silent for a minute, staring at the painting. “So, this is New York. In the fifties.”

“It is.” She stirred the gray, adding white until it was a few shades lighter than what was on the muslin.

“Can I help?”

She blinked down at the paint, considering if it would be worth it to redo all of his lines later. “If you want. You can leave me here though. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a dance going on in the gym.”

“A dance . How grand.” He grabbed a paintbrush—the wrong paintbrush—and approached her. “So what are we doing?”

There was a twist to his voice, like he knew he’d asked a loaded question. But Jodi ignored it, replaced the brush in his hand with the correct one, and showed him how she was highlighting the dark windows. She pointed to where the aprons were, but he just stepped up to the tall windows and began.

Jodi usually painted with music on. Without it, she could hear the scratch of the brushes like wood being sanded down. In the silence, the lab had the atmosphere of a confessional.

“I think my mom killed herself.” She whispered it to the Manhattan skyline.

To his credit, Julian didn’t pause or react. He bent at the waist to dip his paintbrush, wiping off the excess like she’d shown him, and then straightened and continued.

She thought maybe she could get away with just saying it. She’d spoken out loud. Maybe that’s all that needed to happen.

“When I got to the car, your window was only half-down and your seat belt was still on.”

She could tell him about Paige’s shoe to her face, or remind him about her inability to swim, but she just swiped a new line at a new window.

“Did you give up when the car flooded,” he whispered, “or before it even left the bridge?”

Jodi finished a window. “Dad never let me near a pool because my mom drowned in our bathtub after taking too many painkillers.” And after a pause, “I was in the tub with her. I think she wanted me to die, too.”

Her throat felt choked again, that same sensation from earlier. There was nothing else she could say without cracking into a million pieces.

It was too quiet. The silence forced her to face him. There wasn’t pity in his gaze or a rush to say the right words. He just looked at her and saw her.

“Maybe she did. But I don’t want you to,” he said. Like it was as simple as that.

She held his gaze, waiting for the right response to come to her. Quick as a flash, he reached up and ran his paintbrush over her exposed clavicles with a naughty smile.

Jodi’s mouth fell open, eyes wide. He bit his lip and lifted a brow.

She stepped up to him, waiting for him to make a run for it, examining his black tux. She swept the brush through the hair at his temple, turning it gray. When he didn’t stop her, she did the other temple as well.

He cleared his throat with a smile, bent down to freshen up his brush—so she thought—and pressed his hand into the paint tray. He stood tall and planted his gray hand in the middle of her chest over her sternum, leaving a handprint over the apron.

She gasped and drew her brush down his chest before she could think. Down his tux.

“Oh god. That was dumb. I’m so sorry—”

His paintbrush pushed into her ear and she squealed. He wrapped her into a bear hug, untied her apron, and dipped his fingers into the paint can on the table. She could barely laugh out “No!” before he clawed at the front of her dress to match his slash of gray.

His raspy laughter in her ear warmed her stomach, and she shrieked when he pushed his temple against her cheek to smear the paint onto her skin. She pushed back, reaching her brush for the paint can, but he caught her wrist, tugged her waist close to him, and swallowed her laughter with his lips against hers.

Jodi’s chest shook, like an aftershock following a quake. She gasped in air, and Julian’s tongue brushed across hers. The paintbrush clattered to the concrete floor.

His hand stained with gray paint pressed to her jaw and the back of her neck, enveloping her, and his mouth moved over hers in the way that people who knew how to kiss moved their mouths—teasing, testing, trying.

Her fingers curled in his tux jacket, and freshman year welled up in her mind—Zack’s birthday party and spin the bottle. Julian’s mouth brushing over hers for half a second before he was wiping his hand across his curled lips—

She pushed at his shoulder and the moment their lips parted she rushed out, “I’m sorry.”

Because clearly, she did this, right? Julian Hollister didn’t want to kiss her. Somehow he’d pressed his cheek to hers and she’d moved their mouths and he’d fallen forward, closer—

“For what?” His eyes searched hers. His hand was still cupped around her jaw, fingers on her neck. Holding her. Dragging her nearer to him.

His breath crested over her forehead, and she thought of him coming to see Our Town , and how he’d come after her tonight when no one else bothered. How she would have let herself drown if he hadn’t outright refused.

She flung her arms around his neck—maybe like they did in the movies, maybe like an awkward baby bird—and shoved him back against the wall. He laughed as their mouths connected again, but hissed and looked down. He’d stepped in the paint tray, his dress shoe’s sole soaked.

“Oh god,” she said, pressing her eyes closed.

His hands curled over her cheeks, pulling her face back to his. He kissed her in a way that wasn’t soft, but wasn’t aggressive, only stopping to tug the apron neck over her head and toss it to the side. He backed her into the worktable, his height looming over her as her eyes fluttered closed. His hand dragged down over her painted collarbones, resting between her breasts—where he’d pounded her ribs to get river water out of her lungs.

And she wondered what it was they were doing, and if it was wise to let him crack her chest open a second time, just to see if he fit inside.

Her mouth felt drunk and needy against his, and she knew she couldn’t be as good at this as he was used to, but she didn’t care. Not when he was slanting his lips to nip at her, taste her—making her head spin while she tried to keep up.

“What the hell is this?”

They broke apart at the voice, and Jodi whipped her neck around to see Zack in the doorway. His eyes were wide, but narrowing.

“Hi!” Jodi said, her voice too high. “We… we were…”

She looked at Julian. His lips were red from kissing, but his expression was resigned.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Zack yelled, moving into the room.

Julian still wasn’t responding, so Jodi babbled, “It’s nothing! It just happened. We were fooling around, and—and he was helping me with painting—”

“In the middle of prom,” Zack said, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Yeah.” Jodi glanced at Julian as he leaned back on the worktable. He was staring at Zack in a way she’d never seen before. Like Zack was canceling his summer plans. Jodi continued, “It’s not a big deal.”

“How long has this been going on behind my back?” Zack snarled.

“Literally three and a half minutes.” She laughed lightly, and no one joined her.

Zack stepped closer to Jodi and pointed at Julian. “He’s using you! You don’t see that?!”

Jodi blinked at him, feeling Julian stiffen next to her.

“He wants to be on your good side before it’s your turn to testify,” Zack hissed.

Julian stepped forward, his eyes hard. “That’s not it at all—”

“Jodi, think ! He was never this friendly to you before you were subpoenaed.”

Flashes of moments stacked onto a timeline in her head as her mouth opened and closed. Showing up for her when she was drunk out of her mind. Leaning on her locker, walking with her between classes—all beginning spring semester. And coming to Our Town —

Her eyes pricked, and she shook her head as it filled with too many thoughts. “I don’t—”

“He’s distracting you because you’re lonely.” Zack’s eyes were dark and vicious on Julian, and Jodi felt a weight drop in her stomach. “He seized the opportunity—”

“I’d watch what you say about seizing opportunities,” Julian said softly, a threat in his tone.

Zack paled before snapping, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t push me.”

“Okay!” Jodi stepped forward, holding her hand up like she could physically separate them. “We’re all just… running a little hot here. Julian and I”—she glanced at him—“were just messing around. It was nothing.”

Something flashed over his features in a ripple, like she’d said the exact words to break a curse. His eyes darkened and then zeroed in on Zack. In an even, casual voice, he asked, “Why do you care?”

“What?”

“Just two friends fooling around for a bit.” Julian shrugged. “No need to get upset.”

In that moment, she knew what she wanted Zack to say—how badly she wanted to hear that he was jealous or cared for her more than he’d ever realized. Julian set it up perfectly just to disappoint her.

“Of course I care .” Zack stepped forward. “You’ve never liked her, but now you want me to believe you’re into her?”

“And what if this was me and Paige,” Julian said, standing from the table smoothly. “Would it be such a big deal to you if Paige and I wanted to hook up?”

Jodi flinched. The thought of a simple swap of her for Paige seemed reductive, like his preference was random.

“You know it’s different—”

“How?” Julian said. “Both of them are your friends. Both of them are single.”

Zack seemed to crackle with tension as Julian remained still as stone.

“Paige has been hooking up with idiots for years,” Zack said. “She knows how to keep things casual.”

Jodi scoffed. “Okay. And I wouldn’t keep things casual?”

“Jo,” Zack said, exasperated. He touched her arm. “You know you’re not like that.”

Jodi looked into his eyes defiantly. She opened her mouth to argue.

Julian cut her off, his voice a sly shark under a tranquil surface. “But Emily was?”

Jodi blinked. There was a ringing in her ears as she watched Zack’s neck turn red. She stumbled back at the look of fear on his face.

“Don’t,” Zack said quietly. Begging.

Jodi looked between them, trying to follow. Trying to make sense of Emily being involved. Because if what Julian was implying was right, then Zack and Emily…

Her chest tightened, and bile crept up the back of her throat. Her skin felt like it didn’t belong to her.

Zack looked down at her, lips open, ready to explain.

Her voice cracked as she said, “Did you sleep with Emily?”

“No! He’s manipulating you again.” Zack grabbed her arms and leaned down to meet her eyes. “I didn’t have sex with her.”

Jodi’s eyes slid to Julian, leaning against the workbench, his tux brushed with gray paint and his face solemn. She didn’t know when she’d started trusting him. Maybe she was being manipulated, but there was something wild in Zack’s eyes, like everything hinged on her believing him. Which… it did. His entire life did.

“Please tell me the truth.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Just talk to me like I’m Jodi and not your judge and jury, Zack.”

The hesitation he gave was all she needed.

She tugged out of his grip, air thin, mind slow. She needed to get out.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Zack snarled to Julian, and she felt like her line had been stolen.

“I know,” Julian replied glibly. “Simply awful of me, isn’t it? What can I say”—he slid his hands in his pockets while slipping out the door—“I’m opportunistic like that.”

The metal door snapped shut. Jodi stared after him, ignoring Zack. It was quiet with just the mess of paint and the gore of Julian’s confession between them.

“Let me explain.”

Her eyes pressed closed. He barreled on.

“It was an accident. It was one time. She was there for me when I was having a really bad day, and it was a mistake.”

Jodi’s throat closed. How many bad days had she sat with him for. How many mistakes had she watched him make.

“We didn’t… we didn’t finish—”

“I have to go.” Tears poured down her cheeks. She needed to clean up the scenic lab, but it would have to wait. “I have to go,” she repeated, and turned over her shoulder to say clearly to him, “Don’t follow me.”

She took the side exit out to the parking lot, and muggy wind battered her face. She moved quickly across the asphalt, barefoot. Shoes left next to the paint can.

He didn’t follow her out, and she realized that Julian would have. No matter what she told him to do, he would come after her.

He’s using you! You don’t see that?!

Was he? Could every positive thing be traced back to the subpoena?

Her feet carried her away from the noise of the gym and the car line for the kids who needed bailing out after only an hour. If she had a parent, she might have been able to call her own bailout. Her mind flew to the night Julian had come to pick her up when her dad was long gone. And the two-hour drive he’d flown through to get back to her, to save her from a party gone wrong.

Julian had known about Emily and Zack. For how long? Since it happened? Or since it came out in Emily’s journal?

If the journal was right about that , what else was it right about? Had Emily tried to kill herself last April? Had Jodi inadvertently stopped her with her words? Had Lucy thrown a bottle at Emily from her car window?

Jodi was on Fair Oaks by the time her mind caught up with her body. There were no good sidewalks on the boulevard. She crossed at an intersection and kept walking to a less crowded street, her feet taking a beating against rocks and cigarette butts. She had her house key for her dad’s. It was mostly inhabitable still and the only place she could go to be alone. That’s all she wanted.

She walked home in her splattered prom dress, wondering how Zack could have possibly let himself do that to Emily. Had he been lying when he’d joined the conversation on how annoying she was, how strange? Did he have feelings for her that he hadn’t wanted to admit? Jodi didn’t know what was worse, Zack having feelings for Emily or him not. Because if he didn’t… and she was just there. Just convenient. What did that mean?

She got back to her dad’s house, let herself inside, and set the water to hot in the tub. She sat on the edge of the porcelain in her painted prom dress and ignored the memory of how it had gotten that way as the water swirled black and pink around her feet. She cried, tears dripping into the bathwater.

She peeled her dress off and left it in a heap, shimmied into boxers and a tee, and slipped under the covers before the tears started to fall again.