Wish (12 page)

“Anyway,” he huffed, finally turning to face her. His eyes were less cloudy and his face smooth and calm. “I don’t exactly know why, but I felt like telling you. I guess I thought you should know.” He took a deep breath and smiled before turning back to the water. Olivia did the same, the quiet of the early evening settling in between them as they waited for the sinking sun.

Later, when she was falling asleep, Olivia would remember that smile, and the way it made her feel tingly and warm. It wasn’t a smile that said a whole lot. It wasn’t suggestive, or romantic, even. It was just that it was trusting, and easy, and real.

“A
bout face!” Violet commanded, hopping up from where she’d been lounging against the bottom of the Larsens’ front stoop.

After Soren had driven her halfway home, Olivia had decided to take advantage of the warming weather and walk the (mostly uphill) twenty blocks back to her house. Her legs were trembling and all she wanted was to take a shower and hop into bed, but Violet, as usual, had other plans.

“My feet…” Olivia groaned as Violet pulled her toward the car, pressing the keys into the palm of her hand.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Violet insisted as Olivia unlocked the front door. “You have some serious beans to spill.”

Olivia slouched forward, flattening her cheek against the steering wheel, and turned toward her sister. “Can’t I spill them on the couch?”

Violet rolled her eyes and pulled her hair back into a loose bun. “Sure,” she said flatly. “If you feel like screaming.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow and Violet took a deep, preparatory breath.

“Dad accidentally put a hole in the wall of Mom’s office. Mom has a big deposition in the morning,” she began, squinting to remember the details. “Dad is ‘lazy’ and ‘disrespectful’; Mom is a ‘workaholic’ who ‘loves to complain…’”

Olivia grunted and turned the key in the ignition. “Grandpa’s boat?” she asked.

Violet nodded silently and Olivia pulled out into the street.

It took a lot of restraint, but Olivia refused to share any juicy gossip about her afternoon with Soren until the sisters were squarely settled on the deck of the sparkling yacht, spread out on a blanket and staring up at the fading night sky.

Violet leaned on her side and propped herself up with one arm. “Tell me everything.”

Olivia inhaled a lungful of sea air and covered her face with her hands, the giddy smile she’d managed to repress forcing its way out through the web of her fingers.

“Oh, no,” Violet gasped. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Olivia lowered her hands and looked into her sister’s eyes, darting around like little blue lasers, searching Olivia’s face for more.

“What happened?” Violet squealed. “It’s bad enough I’m stuck in family court while you’re out on the world’s most romantic date—”

“It wasn’t a date,” Olivia said firmly.

Violet huffed and flipped her hand over in the air. “Whatever,” she said. “It was datelike.”

Olivia blushed and sat up, pulling the edge of the fuzzy fleece blanket up and over her legs.

“It was weird,” Olivia said, after a while of being quiet. “There were a couple of times when it was kind of awkward. Where it really felt like we were two strangers hanging out. But most of the time, he was just so easy to talk to.” Violet nodded and turned her chin back toward the purple night sky. “It was like I knew everything he was about to say, before he said it, you know?”

Violet made a little humming sound and smiled. “Like what?” she asked, crossing her bare ankles and wiggling her toes. Olivia glanced down at the bubble-gum polish on her sister’s feet, and for a moment was transported back to last summer on Martha’s Vineyard. They were sitting on the back deck, painting each other’s nails. Violet had borrowed her mother’s collection of OPI colors and was choosing between Sweet 16 and Daddy’s Girl. Olivia, who rarely paid any attention to her nails, other than to bite them, decided that they should both pick Sweet 16, in honor of their upcoming birthdays.

The birthday that only one of them would celebrate.

“Hello?” Violet pressed, sitting back up. “Where did you go?”

Olivia shook her head and smiled sadly. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m here.”

Violet gave her a funny look before leaning back on her elbows, her light eyes reflecting the twinkling yellow lights of downtown across the bay. “So what did he say?”

Olivia nibbled at the inside corner of her mouth. “Well…” She hesitated. “He told me he broke up with Calla.”

“He what?” Violet shot up, her hair whipping around her
face like water. “When? And
how
did you not lead with this information?”

Olivia looked down at her fingers in her lap. Her own nails were stubby and streaked with little chalky lines. Her mind clouded as she remembered the way Soren’s shoulders had slumped when he’d told her the news. She’d known Violet would be excited, but she couldn’t help feeling that it was all so complicated. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get involved with someone so soon after a breakup.

“I don’t know.” Olivia sighed, squinting at the water, lapping in dark little waves against the angled beams of the wooden dock. “I don’t know how I feel about it yet.”

Violet leaned forward, taking one of Olivia’s knees in each of her open palms. “What’s to know?” she asked with a laugh. “The guy you like but couldn’t
have
because he had a girlfriend…doesn’t!”

Olivia wrangled her legs free of Violet’s grip and pulled herself up to her feet. She pressed her hips against the cool brass railing and swayed forward, the gusty breeze picking up a light spray off the water and stinging the freckled tops of her cheekbones. Violet was quickly there, too, straddling the banister, her bare feet swinging and knocking back against the hull.

“You’re worried about Calla, aren’t you?” Violet guessed. Her voice wasn’t as edgy as Olivia expected. It was soft and almost understanding.

Olivia nodded. “It just sucks,” she said, hearing herself whining but too upset to care. “Why does the first guy I feel this way about have to be the boyfriend of basically the only girl I’ve talked to at school?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Violet corrected.

“Yeah, of, like, fifteen minutes,” Olivia deadpanned. She stretched her arms out and leaned back, gripping the railing with such force that her knuckles blanched and looked ready to pop out of her skin. “I just don’t want to let myself get too excited.”

Olivia tilted her neck back and looked up at the sky. There were a few dull stars peeking through layers of gossamer clouds, but not enough to allow her to make out the pointed shapes of constellations.

“What did you promise me?” Violet asked, laying a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Remember? At the gala? You said you were going to let yourself want things.” Violet looked out at the water, giving her sister’s shoulder a little squeeze.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” Olivia asked, following Violet’s gaze out across the horseshoe bay. A waiter at a waterfront restaurant was pulling down umbrellas and bringing plastic chairs inside, closing up for the night. Violet took a deep breath and smiled, and Olivia thought she noticed a mischievous little dance in the corners of her sister’s eyes.

“Trust me,” Violet said, rocking gently against Olivia’s side. “It will.”

Olivia felt her pulse starting to steady and the sharp pounding at her temples recede into a background ache. “You really think so?” she asked quietly.

“I really do.”

Olivia felt the tight knots in her neck and shoulders starting to loosen, a smile brightening her lips. The queasy feeling she’d had squirming in her belly all evening was starting to settle. Her whole body was relaxing, as if her sister had drawn the tension right out of her, one limb at a time.

A
ll it took was a full day of pretending that nothing was going on between her and Soren for Olivia to realize that “getting excited” wasn’t going to be much of a challenge. Every time she so much as caught a glimpse of him at school, through the window of the language lab door, or doing tricks on his skateboard in the courtyard at lunch, her stomach twisted into a giant pretzel.

Determined to orchestrate at least one accidental-on-purpose hallway encounter, Violet had tracked Soren’s schedule and planted Olivia in the upstairs student lounge just before the last bell of the day. This way, Violet reasoned, Olivia could position herself for a casual crossing-of-paths while innocently working on homework, the prop of her math notebook open in her lap.

“I’m so glad I found you.” A soft voice suddenly spoke from behind Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia looked up from a scramble of calculus equations just as Calla collapsed into the nubby couch on the other side of the glass table.

“Hey, Calla,” Olivia said, willing her pulse to stop drumming in her ears. Violet spun around from where she’d been perched on the top of the stairs, her eyes wide with concern. This wasn’t exactly the accidental encounter they’d had in mind. “What’s up?”

At first glance, Calla seemed okay. Her dark wavy hair was clean and shiny, and she looked perfectly put together in skinny jeans, a soft white V-neck, and a tangle of long brass chains. The only thing suspicious about her appearance were the oversize black sunglasses she was wearing inside.

“Are you busy this afternoon?” Calla asked, rummaging around in her bag for her water bottle and unscrewing the round top. Olivia’s eyes jumped back to Violet, who appeared too stunned to be of much service, and then back to Calla, who was swallowing a big sip of water and sighing like she’d been parched in a desert for months. “I could really use your help with this fundraiser we’re putting together for the thrift store. We have our first committee meeting after school today, and it would be great to have you on board.”

Olivia caught a flurry of movement and looked up to see Violet shaking her head deliberately and crossing her hands over each other back and forth.

“Oh,” Olivia stuttered. “That sounds great, but, unfortunately, I—”

“The thing is,” Calla whispered as she leaned across the table, a tumble of hair falling over her shoulder, “Lark and Eve are supposed to be helping out, and I know they’re trying. It’s just…well, usually I’d do everything myself, but I had kind of a…crazy weekend…”

What did
crazy
mean, exactly? Crazy busy? Or crazy sad?
Olivia felt a sharp tightening in her stomach as she imagined Calla after the gala, telling her friends what had happened. Explaining that it was over with Soren.

Calla shook her head gently, the scent of vanilla shampoo floating in the air between them. Then, with slow, careful motions, she lifted both hands to the sides of her face and pulled her sunglasses down onto her lap. She brought her eyes up to meet Olivia’s, and Olivia could see that they were pink and swollen, like bugs had been biting around them all night.

All signs were pointing to crazy sad.

“Please,” Calla said evenly. “Say you can make it.”

Olivia didn’t really have a choice. Even Violet could see that. Her sister tossed her a helpless shrug, shaking her head as she looked down at the beige and white–squared carpet.

“Of course.” Olivia closed her notebook and tucked it into her soft leather tote. “I’d love to help.”

Calla rocked back in the couch and smiled, before pulling herself up to her feet. “Thank you
so
much.”

Calla started down the spiral stairs toward the lobby, and Olivia followed close behind. Heavy footsteps passed by her head and she turned to see the door to the ceramics studio swinging open, a familiar pair of blue Converse shell-toes stepping out into the hall.

“Don’t look back,” Violet warned as they passed through the lobby. Olivia felt her cheeks splotching red and hoped Calla wouldn’t notice. They turned a corner and swung through a pair of French doors into the faculty lounge.

Lark, Eve, Graham, and a half-dozen other kids were already scattered around the circular room. Graham and Eve were lounging on the floor, their legs intertwined as
they leaned back against a gurgling watercooler. Lark had claimed a high-backed chair at the head of an oval mahogany table. Her thick blond hair was pulled back into a swinging ponytail, with a static-electric halo clinging to her head. She stood up as Calla entered the room, indicating the open seat by her side.

“Hey, Cal,” Lark said, capping her pen and placing it on the top of her spiral notebook. “I was about to get started without you.”

Calla circled the table and hoisted herself up onto the sill of a bay window overlooking the courtyard. She swung her legs over the back of the empty chair as Lark settled back into her seat.

Olivia was starting toward the table when Violet put a hand on her shoulder.

“How about the couch?” she suggested, motioning to a checkered love seat in the corner, wedged underneath an oil painting of a country farmhouse. Olivia quietly sank into one of the soft square cushions. “Just try to lie low,” Violet advised, crouching on the floor beside her. “You’ll be fine.”

Calla removed a small oval case from her tote. “First of all, thanks so much for coming today.” She exchanged her dark shades for turquoise-rimmed, rectangular eyeglasses, slipping them carefully onto her face. Naturally, they made her look even more effortlessly glamorous and hip, and Olivia actually found herself hoping that her own 20/20 vision would someday deteriorate.

“I know this is a really busy time for everyone,” Calla said, quietly taking in the room. “And it means a lot that you’re taking the time to be here.”

“Really.” Lark beamed, rapping her pen against the spiral binding of her notebook. “It’s great to see so many new faces. I mean, remember when it was just me and you and Kiko at that Burmese place on Clement? I never would have imagined—”

“So as you know, we’re hosting a fundraising event for the thrift shop,” Calla cut in, gazing out over the top of Lark’s head. “The goal is to raise enough money to open at Golden Gate before the summer. My cousins started one at their school in Manhattan, and it’s a great way to generate a steady flow of income for a cause.”

Violet yawned dramatically from the floor and Olivia shot her a silencing glare.

“Lark’s handing out some information we put together last week,” Calla explained. “We’ve decided, since we’re already getting so many donations, that the best way to get people excited would be to showcase some of the pieces in a fashion show.”

Olivia noticed Violet’s spine straighten and her eyes light up. All anybody had to say was
fashion
and suddenly her sister was all ears.

“So,” Calla said, flopping her hands against her lap. “Any thoughts about locations?”

“How about a vineyard in Napa?” Eve quickly suggested, her dark almond eyes blinking as she nestled into her perennial position on Graham’s lanky lap. “We could do a wine tasting before the show.”

There were a few bored snickers from the back of the room, and Graham gallantly came to his lady’s defense. “It could be cool,” he said, stretching out his long legs. He was
wearing faded black skinny jeans and lime green Nike high-tops with paint-splattered soles, which Olivia decided were one part trendy and one part toddler. “What better way to get people to write fat checks than by getting them wasted first?”

The crowd rumbled with giggles and nods of approval.

“Maybe,” a heavy baritone interjected from the other side of the room. Olivia turned to see a petite boy with a blond crew cut and an upturned nose leaning on his elbows at the table. “But how about Sonoma instead of Napa?”

Olivia had seen him before in the halls. He looked a little bit like some baby-faced child actor she couldn’t quite place, but his voice was like sandpaper.

“Napa is like the Disney World of wine country. It’s played out,” he boomed. “Sonoma is the new Napa.”

There was another swell of laughter across the room and Lark spun violently around in her seat.

“Seriously, Logan?” she spat. “You’ve never even been to Napa. I read that issue of
Sunset
in Mom’s bathroom, too. Do you want to quote the rest of it for us?”

Graham keeled forward, laughing so hard that he nearly knocked Eve onto the floor. Olivia smiled as she registered the sibling rivalry. Now that she thought about it, Lark and Logan did have the same golden hair and too-perfect skin.

“All right,” Calla said loudly, quieting the giggling crowd. “I like the drunken check-writing theory, but I don’t know if we have time to plan something so involved. The event is less than a month away, and we haven’t even booked a space. We’re going to have to get creative here.”

“Graham’s dad is on the board at the Palace of Fine Arts,” Eve offered, turning her heart-shaped face up to Graham’s and beaming proudly.

“That could work.” Calla nodded eagerly. “Graham, since you’ve got the hookup, do you and Eve want to work on location?”

“No problem,” Eve said sweetly, tucking a section of her slick, layered hair behind one tiny ear.

“Great. Did you get that, Lark?” Calla tapped her finger on Lark’s notebook and looked around the room. “What else? Oh, I know.” Calla stood with her back to the table glancing down at the tops of her mango-colored painted toes, her long dark tresses falling over her shoulders and covering both sides of her face. She took a deep breath and looked up.

“So, I thought I was going to be able to handle overseeing everything on my own,” she began. “But it turns out my mom needs me for some more iWIN stuff, plus I’m busy with peer theater meetings and the meditation workshops…”

“Oh, is that all?” Violet added. “What about the paper bag police? Doesn’t somebody have to stand outside the supermarket and hand out reusable totes?”

Olivia tossed her sister another stern glance.

“So it looks like I’m going to need a little help after all,” Calla said, quickly laying a hand on Lark’s shoulder. “And Lark is in the middle of volleyball season…so what I’m looking for is a volunteer for cochair.” She looked out at the room, lifting her chin high over Lark’s head and eagerly scanning the crowd.

“Ouch,” Violet hissed. “Write
that
down, Lark.”

Olivia swiveled swiftly around in her chair and hissed at Violet.

“Quiet!” Olivia grunted without thinking. As soon as the word had left her lips, Olivia felt twenty pairs of eyes on the back of her neck. Violet’s features were locked in a pre-panic grimace as she glanced carefully around the room.

“Madonna?” Olivia turned to see Calla hopping down from the window and starting toward her on the couch. “Was that you?”

Olivia swallowed and glanced up at the table. A guy she recognized from her religion class, with greasy long hair and a black plug in one ear, had his head on his elbows and appeared to be sleeping.

“Um,” Olivia stalled. She hadn’t even wanted to come to the meeting in the first place, and now she had accidentally volunteered to cochair the entire event? “Well, I don’t know…”

“Perfect,” Calla said, standing over her by the couch. “Don’t worry—it’s not like there’s tons to do, and I think it’ll be fun to work together. Don’t you?”

Violet stood next to Calla, her eyes frantically darting back and forth. “Uh, no?” Violet prompted her sister. “Not so much fun as
totally inconvenient.
Olivia, this is not a good idea.”

But Calla was already heaving a sigh of relief. “Thank you
so much
,” she said to Olivia with a warm smile before heading back to the front of the room.

Violet collapsed dramatically on the couch beside her sister. “
Whyyyyy
did you do that?” she moaned.

Olivia chewed at the inside of her lip. What was she supposed to do?

Calla settled back against the window, swinging her legs against the wall like a little girl. “Madonna Is My Copilot,” she joked. “Not a bad bumper sticker, huh?”

Violet scoffed and dropped her head in her hands. “So much for lying low.”