Lipstick Apology (17 page)

Andi rolled her big blue eyes and gave us a look like,
What guy do you know that doesn't want to move fast?
But then the crowd was dispersing and exiting the bleachers. We walked down. As we reached the bottom bleacher, Aidan and Owen walked over, freshly showered and dressed in loose-fit jeans.

“Congratulations!” I said to Owen. His blond hair looked dark and dripped onto his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Owen said. “I'm so glad you came. Hey, do you want to come over later to, like, celebrate?”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I was stumped. This was one of those times where I had to make a decision. Do the right thing and stick with the plans previously made to have dinner with Lindsey or follow my lust into the strong arms of the swim champ that actually seemed interested in me.

“I'd love to,” I said. “But . . . I'm going over to Lindsey's tonight for dinner.”
Damn my moral upbringing!

Andi's eyes widened in shock and she mouthed,
What are you doing??!!

Lindsey turned around and looked as if she was going to protest, but Owen interrupted her. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Okay, we'll do it another time,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, a little breathy, immediately regretting my decision. But then I saw Lindsey's face, sweet and genuine, and knew I had done the right thing.

We all walked down the corridor of the athletic building. Lindsey's diamond earring fell out and I bent down to help her find it. Owen walked ahead and joined Aidan and Andi.

“You should go over to Owen's tonight,” Lindsey whispered.

“But you're all by yourself tonight,” I said.

“I'm
always
by myself. Really, you should go.”

“No,” I said. “We made plans. Anyway, I want to hear about Mister Stud Jockey Jason.”

Lindsey beamed. “I can't believe I actually asked him out. I mean, if a note counts as asking.”

I laughed. In the distance, there was a repetitive
boom, boom, swish
reverberating from the basketball court ahead. As we rounded the corner, there she was, nose pressed to the door of the basketball court, her breath fogging up the glass window: the new girl, Carly.

In front of me, Aidan elbowed Owen.

We all knew the unmistakable
dribble, dribble, swish
coming from behind the door could only be Ethan. He was the only one who never missed.

Carly heard our footsteps and looked up. Her face froze; she knew she'd been caught staring. She turned and without a word scrambled away.

“That girl can move pretty fast,” Aidan said.

Given her size
was left implied.

I felt bad for her. She had done nothing to deserve their ridicule. But at the same time, I knew in some dark recess of my mind, I was relieved not to be the one they were mocking.

 

WHEN I GOT HOME
from Lindsey's, my cheerleading uniform was wrapped in plastic and lying on the kitchen table. There was a note next to it.
The dry cleaner said pumpkin stains are a pain in the butt!! I went out. Love, J.

I picked up the outfit and wandered back toward my room. When I shoved the uniform in the back of the closet, I accidentally kicked the small unmarked box I had pulled out a few days before. The box turned to its side and a paintbrush rolled out. I picked it up. It was crusted with dried phthalo green paint. I remembered now. This was a box I had packed with some of my parents' things that I couldn't part with. I pulled the box over and reached inside. There was a Ziploc bag I had filled with my dad's last stack of coins and his ID work badge from Hadford Engineering. I picked up the heavy Gustave Courbet art book that Mom had propped under her stool to give her more height. The book was fat and dusty. I thumbed through the pages, and two cards fluttered to the ground. The first card was old with curling edges and a picture of a single red rose on the front. I opened it up. Inside, in perfect script, it read:
Dear Jill, Thanks for playing hooky with me.—D.
Hooky? And who was “D”?

I quickly reached for the second card. This card's cover was a New York City skyline. When I opened it, there was a photo tucked inside. As I looked at it, my heart quickened. My mother was standing arm in arm with a tall, handsome man. Behind them was a long rope, a line of acrobats, and, in the distance, the Statue of Liberty.

I looked inside the card.
Jill, What a perfect day. You are perfect. D.

I dusted off the photo and examined it closely. There was something oddly familiar about the man, like I had seen him on TV or in the movies, but I couldn't place it. In the lower left corner the date was electronically printed on the photo. I did the math and confirmed my horrible suspicion. At that time, my parents were married.

Who was this man? And why had my mom kept these cards for all these years? I got in bed and crawled under the covers, clutching the photo in my hands as I waited for Jolie to come home and give me some answers.

But in the wee hours of the night, I finally drifted off to sleep thinking,
Just a week ago, I stood in that same line outside the Statue of Liberty with a handsome guy of my own. Would I have enjoyed that day as much if I'd known whatever happened at that exact location so many years ago?

“GOD, WHAT'S WRONG?
You look awful,” Andi said to me as I placed my salad on our usual cafeteria table halfway through lunch on Thursday. I plopped down in the chair between her and Lindsey and stared as Andi adjusted the little camel skirt she wore over textured white leggings and boots. Her white cable-knit sweater fell loosely off one shoulder as she scanned the crowd, taking in the scene. I'd been trying really hard to dress well, varying up the khaki skirts and polo shirts. But seeing Andi during lunch always made me realize how far behind I still was.

Today, though, I didn't really care. “Ugh. I couldn't sleep last night,” I said, recalling the hours I spent analyzing my mother's cards and photo. I patted at the puffy bags under my eyes. I'd been so preoccupied, I hadn't gotten any chemistry homework done, which meant I'd been trying to work on it in between classes.

“Why?” Lindsey asked, her brown eyes soft with genuine concern.

But before I could answer, Andi said, “This will cheer you up, my dear,” and nodded in the direction behind me.

I whipped around, relieved for a distraction, and saw Aidan, Owen, and Ethan carrying their books and drinks toward us. I grabbed my cheeks and tried to pinch some color into them.

“Hey,” the guys all mumbled as they pulled a few extra ornate wooden chairs over and squished around our table.

Owen smiled at me. “Missed you last night after the meet. Me and a few buddies chilled at my place.”

I blushed. “Um, yeah, sorry I missed it.” Lindsey, Andi, and the rest of the crew faded from my peripheral vision, and it was all Owen and his huge, delicious grin. But this time, I felt a pang of something. Not quite distrust, but something else. I guess it was that he reminded me of that mysterious man who'd written notes to my mom. The mysterious “D.”

The bell rang, and even though I'd barely eaten, we collected our things and started to walk to our next classes. Owen and I walked in silence for a few minutes.

“I had such a good time on our, you know, date,” I stuttered, trying to make natural-sounding conversation. I took a breath. “I've been wondering, like, why or how, I guess, did you decide we were going to the Statue of Liberty that day. I mean, did you plan to take me there, or was it spontaneous?” I tried to sound casual, not wanting to reveal that after seeing Mom's photo of a similar date, I couldn't help but think, Statue of Liberty—how cliché is that? “D” had planned the same date years ago.

We reached my locker and all at once, Owen was leaning me against the cold, dark red metal, staring at me and saying, “Hey, who doesn't like the Statue of Liberty, kid? Even a b eautiful, mysterious girl like you. You know, I don't even have your number.”

Suddenly, the fact that he planned a cliché date vanished. I was melting into his deep green eyes. “Uh. Uh.” The only number I could recall was my old home number from Pennsylvania. “Uh.” THINK!

“Here.” Owen reached over, grazing my arms slightly, and grabbed my cell phone out of my purse. He flipped it open. Then he took his BlackBerry and programmed my number while I leaned against my locker, immobile. He handed me my phone. “Thanks, kid.” Then he leaned over and with the softest, fullest lips gently kissed me. My heart stopped. Like,
flatline.
Then he pulled away slightly, looking into my eyes, and my heart bounced back so fast I just knew I was having a heart attack. My head felt all woozy, and for a brief moment I contemplated calling 911.

The bell rang. Owen raced down the hallway.

I leaned against the locker for a full five minutes before I regained the use of my legs.

 

ONE KISS WAS ALL IT TOOK
to catapult me from new girl in the popular crowd status to couple royalty. Walking down the hall the rest of the week, I saw underclassmen point and whisper.

In the girls' bathroom on Thursday a nervous freshman with jet black hair in a braid asked me where I got my awesome lipstick. I told her I bought it at CVS. I didn't want to say it was from Jolie's latest line and then seem like I was bragging. I politely turned on the sink.

“Do you work out like five hours a day?” she asked, ogling me in the mirror and biting her lip. I shrugged, smiled, dried my hands, and walked out. Since when did random strangers talk to me in the bathroom? Oh, yeah, since I was a Darlington monarch.

Owen still had not booked an official second date, but apparently to the Darlington world, we were a couple.

 

WHEN JOLIE WALKED IN THE DOOR
late Friday night, I flung myself toward her. All the attention I'd been getting at school must have given me confidence. I held up the picture of Mom with the handsome gentleman and the cards signed by “D.” The items I'd been obsessing over since I'd found them two nights before.

“What's this?!” I demanded while she was still unwinding her long black scarf.

Jolie took the photo and looked at it for a long time. Her light hair was static from the cold. “Where did you get this?”

“It was tucked into one of Mom's old art books.” I tried to read her expression. “Did you know this guy?”

Jolie shook her head. “Maybe it was just some old boyfriend.” She kicked off her gold-flecked flats as she edged past me into the living room and sat down on the leather recliner, tucking her feet up under her.

“But look,” I said, pointing at the photo in my hand. “Look at the date.”

I stood there in the entryway while Jolie tapped on her laptop and started checking her e-mails. Was she blatantly ignoring me?

“Who is D?” I asked.

Jolie shrugged and didn't look at me.

“Well, did you know any of Mom's friends who may have lived in the city around that time?”

“I don't know,” Jolie said shaking her head.

“It's suspicious,” I said, my voice wavering. “Isn't it? Or am I being crazy? Do you not think this is weird?”

“I don't know, Emily.”

“Jolie,” I said, my voice practically a whisper now. “Did Mom cheat on Dad?” Just saying it seemed ridiculous, but what else was I to think?

Jolie didn't answer. She just turned and looked out the window at the Hudson.

A new kind of dread took over. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly awake, like all my nerve endings were on fire. It wasn't a good feeling.

I took the photo and stormed down the hall. I buried it back inside the cardboard box and shoved it deep into my closet. Then I slammed the closet door and sat down on the bed, staring hard at the back of the closet door, breathing slowly, and letting the fire inside me burn.

SUNDAY MORNING,
Anthony showed up for our scheduled lab report meeting. His arms were full of white cardboard boxes tied with string and marked with a green logo that read:
CornerShop Bakery
.

Anthony plopped the boxes onto the kitchen table. “Mom watched
When Harry Met Sally
on TNT last night,” he said, tearing the string and opening the boxes, revealing mountains of pastries, but I noticed no lemon pound cake. “Every time she watches that stupid movie,” Anthony continued, “she gets all teary-eyed and starts baking. She starts yelling at the TV, telling Harry not to be such a fool. And while she bawls, she keeps throwing more pans in the oven. I swear, what is it with you women and chick flicks?”

“I love
When Harry Met Sally,
” Jolie said, peering over the assortment of pastries and grabbing an apple fritter. “Milk?” she asked both of us, going to the fridge.

Anthony and I both nodded.

“Oh, jackpot,” I said, finding a whole box of donuts. “I've never seen
When Harry Met Sally.
What's the big deal?”

“You've never seen
When Harry Met Sally
?” Jolie asked, shocked. “It's a classic New York love story! I can't believe that. Well, I know I have it on DVD somewhere, we can watch it tonight, if you want.” Her voice was hesitant. We hadn't talked much since I hounded her about my mom's suspicious cards and photo.

“Okay,” I said, picking up my glass of milk and handing the other glass to Anthony.

We headed to my room.

“So, this is Emily's room,” Anthony said, looking around. “Man, you could fit a basketball court in here.” As he glanced around at my things, a smile crept across his face.