When You Were Mine (25 page)

“Yes.”

“This is massive. Does Rob know? Rosaline!” Charlie knocks the back of my head, my answer finally dawning on her. “You
knew
?”

Juliet ducks into the PL, her sunglasses secured tightly to her
face. The entire room turns, gawks, and falls silent. It’s one thing for this to be about your uncle. It’s another entirely for it to be about your dad.

She looks small, or it could just be that she’s alone. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her at school without Rob suctioned to her side. But now Rob’s suspended and her family is the subject of a sex scandal. I feel sorry for her. Especially after last night.

“No way,” Charlie says, like she’s having a conversation with my thoughts. “Don’t go there. This serves her right. Karma’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, it is.” And it’s been a bitch to all of us. I lost my best friend and my cousin, she lost her parents, and somewhere in there we all lost each other. That’s the thing about free will: Every decision we make is a choice
against
something as much as it is
for
something else.

Juliet turns to us briefly, and then she leaves the way she came.

“We’re going to be late,” Olivia says.

Charlie tucks the paper under her arm and cups my elbow. “Rose, let’s go.”

“Hang on.” I make a move to follow Juliet, but Olivia steps in front of me.

“Not happening,” she says.

“What?”

She looks at Charlie, who nods like she’s giving her permission for something. “You’re quick to forgive,” Olivia says. “You always have been. You forgave Charlie when she forgot your birthday two years ago.” Charlie looks down at her feet, rolling her sparkling water in her hands. “You forgave me when I decided the Belgian was more important than that piano concert you wanted to go to. And that’s one of the best things about you, because it means you’re willing to look past things and to give people second chances. But the thing is, Rose, some people don’t deserve them.”

“She’s right,” Charlie says.

“She’s family,” I say.

“Says who?” Olivia says. “So you share a last name? Big deal! Your family are the people who know you, the people who are there for you. Rose,
we’re
your family. Not Juliet.”

I think about everything that’s happened, about there being no right choice. And there’s one thing I can’t stop, regardless of what choice I make, because it’s no longer up to me.

“Rob is going to find out,” I say.

“Yeah, he is,” Charlie says. She puts an arm around my shoulder as she leads me out of the PL. “But it’s not your problem to deal with. All of this”—she flaps the paper in the air—“is somebody else’s story.”

“I don’t see why you don’t just quit,” Charlie says that afternoon. We’re sitting out in the courtyard even though it’s been drizzling off and on since this morning, and we’re talking about the school play. Charlie has a bottle of nail polish balanced on her palm, and she’s applying a coat of Tough as Nails to her fingertips—a grayish-blackish color she picked up at the mall last weekend. She makes a face at a group of freshmen ogling us, and they take off toward Cooper House, running.

“Because my entire bio grade is depending on this.”

“It’s not like Stanford cares about bio,” Charlie says. She picks one hand up and blows on her nails. “And I’m sure the dean would fully understand if you told him that the price of admission was you watching your evil cousin prance around the stage with your ex.”

“Rob’s suspended,” I correct her.

“For now,” she says.

I catch a glimpse of Len across the courtyard, and it’s like I’m right back at that piano bench with him. My entire body lights up, electrified. He’s talking to Dorothy and he’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt. I can’t remember the last time I saw him in one. One time, in eighth grade, Charlie and I ran into him on the beach, but I don’t even think he had one on then.

“Cute, huh?” Olivia says, following my gaze.

“Who?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

Olivia rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Go talk to him,” she says, nudging me in the ribs.

Charlie is swatting her fingers through the air like she’s trying to get rid of gnats, and when I say, “I’ll be right back,” Olivia gives me a small thumbs-up and Charlie just nods.

I cross the courtyard slowly, but when I get about halfway, Len looks up, smiles, and motions me over. Dorothy gives me a little wave and darts into the cafeteria.

“Look who’s in short sleeves,” I say, trying my best to sound cool when my entire body feels like it’s on fire. His black eye has faded, and I can only make out tiny yellowish marks, little fingerprints on his face.

“I’m just trying to be on level with the people,” Len says, making a fuss of gesturing around. He smiles, and it makes me look away. I’m thinking about being in my house alone together and, despite the fact that everyone is watching, part of me wants to reach out and touch him, to run my fingers through his hair and put my hands on either side of his face.

I take a deep breath. I want to bring up that date, to tell him I think I might want to go, but I’m not sure how.

“You going to be at rehearsal today?” I ask instead.

Len tucks his hands into his pockets. “I pretty much don’t have a choice,” he says. “Without me, there is no lighting crew.
No offense or anything.” He looks at me under his lashes. “But you kinda suck.”

I laugh nervously. “Sadly, that’s true.”

He holds up his hands. “So how was the rest of your weekend?”

“Eventful.”

“Interesting.”

“Have you read the paper?”

“I told you I was politically informed,” he says.

“So are you going to say anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘Your family’s really screwed up’?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a trip, Rosaline, you know that?”

I shrug. “That’s something.”

“Your uncle’s kind of a misogynist. And at one point your parents had a hard decision to make. But so what? My parents got divorced when I was five, and now my mom lives with a guy who’s been to jail twice, and this morning my twelve-year-old sister broke her arm on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle. Just because a newspaper doesn’t write articles about us doesn’t mean we aren’t totally fucked.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know.”

“This is life,” he says. “We have to take it as it comes, because even though some things are really shitty, there’s a lot of really
great stuff too.” For a moment his eyebrows cinch in tight. But it’s not a frown. It’s that intense look he gets. The look I saw when he was playing the piano. The one he gets when he really cares about something. And right now he’s looking at me.

I’ve just stubbed my toe, hard, and I’m trying not to
scream, but the effort is causing me to sweat up in the wings. Juliet and the Belgian are flitting around stage. I think they’ve gotten better, but it’s hard to tell. The Belgian is still mispronouncing things, and we’re only a week away from opening night.

“Can you hand me the script?” Len whispers.

I’ve been sitting on it, and when I pluck it off the bottom of my chair, the first page sticks stubbornly to my leg. I arch back and try to yank it off, and when I do, I see Len staring at me, this twinkle of laughter in his eye.

“Pretty attached to this performance, huh?”

“Very funny.”

Mrs. Barch calls an intermission break, and Juliet collapses
into a seat and picks up a water bottle, like she’s a sidelined athlete.

Len is fiddling with some fixture, but the words are out before I even have a chance to filter myself. “About that date,” I blurt out, all at once. Len squints down at me but doesn’t say anything. “You know, how you said Friday night, at the piano.”

Len straightens up. “I haven’t forgotten,” he whispers, “but remember what I said about patience being a virtue?” He’s smiling, the corners of his mouth turned up quirkily at the sides.

“I think it’s overrated.”

“Oh yeah?” Len asks, raising his eyebrows. “What’s made you change your mind?”

I have to think hard before I speak, about constructing coherent, sensible sentences, because being this close to him is making all the words rush out of my head like water back into the ocean in one big, sweeping
whoosh
.

“You’re wearing a T-shirt,” I sort of explain.

“It’s my biceps,” he says. “I can’t let them out too often. Too many people want tickets to the gun show.” He sweeps the curl out of his eyes and looks at me. “So,” he says, “does this mean I can take you out tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“You said it: Patience is overrated.”

He puts his hand on mine, and instantly I feel it again, that electric shock. Except this time it doesn’t make me pull away. It
makes me move closer. His hand is still on mine, and it’s sending a current through my arm and up into my chest. “You do not hold strongly to your beliefs,” I say.

“Not the ones that need changing.” He looks at me, dead-on. It makes my breath catch in my throat, and I have to kind of blow it out and start all over again.

“Okay,” I say. “Pick me up at six?”

“I’ll be there,” he says. He lifts up my hand and touches it to his cheek. “I’ll be right back. I have to grab something from Cooper House.”

I watch him go, with a gigantic smile plastered on my face. Like I’m wearing a set of those wax lips Rob and I used to have when we were younger. And there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I
want
to do about it. In fact, I’m so caught up in Len that it takes me another minute to realize someone is screaming.

Rob has lobbed himself onto the stage like a tennis ball, and he’s standing in front of Juliet, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The Belgian has disappeared and so has Mrs. Barch. Besides a few cast members hanging around the sides of the auditorium, they’re the only ones in sight.

“Did you know about this?” he asks. Screams.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Juliet says. Her voice is quiet, tired, and she’s still sitting down.

“Did you know about this?” he yells again.

Juliet covers her face with her hands, the same way she did on my kitchen floor last night. I want to run between them, to gather her up and protect them both from each other.

“Answer me,” Rob bellows. I can see the veins of his neck bulging out. He has this one vein by his left ear that pops out when he gets angry. I’ve only ever seen it once, when we got into a fight about whether or not white was a primary color. Completely stupid, but he got so worked up about it, the vein practically disconnected. It makes me almost scared for her.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet says. It’s just above a whisper, but it’s so quiet in this auditorium, you could hear a pin drop.

“I should have known,” he says. “I thought I could trust you. I believed in us, despite everything that people said. But they were all right. You’re just a crazy liar.”

Juliet exhales, picking her head up. “Let’s talk about this,” she says.

“What’s to talk about? You betrayed me.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From what? From the truth?” He steps back and holds his head in his right hand.

“Your family—” Juliet starts, but Rob cuts her off.

“Don’t do that. Don’t talk about my family like you know them.” His face is screwed up tight, like if he lets go, he will unravel completely.

And then Juliet stands, and even though I know she’s a good foot shorter than him, from up here they look like they’re nose to nose.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry I don’t know your family better. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you the way you need. I’m sorry I’m not
her
.”

“This isn’t about her,” Rob says. He looks a little self-conscious now, and he’s glancing around the auditorium.

“Of course it’s about her,” Juliet says, her voice rising. “You’re still in love with her.”

There are a million thoughts bouncing around in my head at once. Juliet is talking about me, I know that much, but I’ve also realized something else, too. Rob is in love with Juliet. He’s angry and hurt because he actually cares. If she can’t see that, maybe she really is crazy.