A List of Cages(27)

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“What color are they?”

“I don’t know.”

She slumps over, arms loose like noodles, and pours vodka from a giant glass bottle into my cup. “But Adam—”

“—is bossy.” She pokes out her bottom lip. “And he isn’t your dad. You don’t have to listen to him.”

Camila taps a long red fingernail against the side of my cup. I take a swallow and cough. “I like the other kind better.”

“This’ll help.” She grabs the soda and sloshes some into my cup. I take a sip. “Better?”

I nod. It is better, but still not good. I keep swallowing until it’s gone.

When a new song begins, everyone cheers like it’s their favorite. It’s fast and loud, and they all begin to jump. Camila grabs my sleeve, jerking me into the crowd of leaping bodies. I feel a soft hum in my limbs and everything is slower, calmer.

I dance, and pressed so close together, I’m anonymous, just one cell in the body of swirling figures. I’m dizzy. I’m here. I’m alive.




It’s after 3:00 A.M., and everyone’s gone. Allison and Charlie were supposed to give me a ride, but I guess they took off. I’m looking for Julian, but instead I find Emerald, half-sitting with her eyes closed on that fancy couch in the off-limits formal living room. Her eyes spring open when I trip over the Persian rug.

She smiles, looking wrung out, shoulders slack for a change, instead of squared like a soldier. “You know what movie you make me think of every time you walk into a room?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I fall down beside her. “There’re about a million movies where the lead does this slow-motion-sexy-walk, so it could be—”

“Bambi.”

“Bambi?”

“You know that scene where it’s Bambi’s first winter and he steps out onto the ice?”

“Not cool, Emerald,” I say when she starts laughing. She leans onto my shoulder and the weight feels good, like her head’s supposed to be there.

“And with your eyes and eyelashes and cheekbones, it’s even more perfect.”

“I have Bambi’s cheekbones? What does that even mean?”

“You know…the sort of angular face. High cheekbones. And you have big brown Bambi eyes.”

“That’s awesome, Emerald. Just what every guy wants to hear.” She laughs again. “So you’re officially eighteen. Do you feel different?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I don’t want to wait three more weeks. Tell me.”

“No,” she sighs, still resting on my shoulder, “I don’t feel any different.” She scoots down a little till her ear’s against my chest. “When I was younger, I thought I would. Didn’t you? When you were a little boy, didn’t you think that once you were an adult you’d be smarter? And stronger?”

“I don’t know.”

“I did. I used to think about it all the time. As soon as I turned eighteen, I’d move out and be one of those strong, independent women who never cries.”

“You’re already one of those people who never cries.” I mean, even when she won the spelling bee in middle school and Amy Flowers got jealous and poured her milk over her head, Emerald didn’t cry. If it weren’t for those red blotches that broke out on her neck, I wouldn’t have even known she was upset.

“I do cry. I probably cry once a week.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, not in front of anyone, but yes. Why are you so shocked? Everyone cries, Adam.”

“Not me.” She looks up and grins the way she did when I said I got into a fight with Marcus. “I’m not trying to be a badass. I just don’t. My mom told me that even when I was a baby I didn’t. She said I was always happy.”

She lowers her head again, and I feel her soft laugh against my chest. “That sounds about right.”

“So what’d you get from your mom?”

“I don’t know yet. I won’t see her until tomorrow. She’s with her boyfriend.”

“Seriously?” My mom would go insane if she couldn’t see me on my birthday.

“It’s fine. The people I wanted most were here.”

“Well, except for Brett, right?” Apparently he had some flight test he couldn’t get out of. “Sucks that he couldn’t come.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I know it’s not really long distance, but sometimes I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

If I were with someone who was beautiful and brilliant and amazing, an hour drive would be nothing. “If someone really matters to you, it’s worth it.”

She shifts away from me and leans back against the couch.

“I probably need to go,” I say. “I told my mom I’d be home by two, and I’m already an hour late. I can’t even call her, because I lost my freakin phone again.” I hop up. “Have you seen Julian?”


I open the sliding glass door in the living room, zipping up my coat against the cold, and finally find him outside on Emerald’s trampoline.