Be the Girl(8)

“I like your room. It looks different.” Cassie’s eyes drift, scanning the space as if memorizing it.

“See you around, Aria.” Emmett ruffles Cassie’s hair on his way past, and then hooks an arm around her shoulders and steers her toward the door. She stiffens. “Come on. Let’s give green-faced Aria some privacy,” he mock-whispers, earning her burst of childlike laughter.

He pulls my door shut, but not before turning back to offer one last devastatingly handsome look, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

And in that moment, beneath a cluster of tacky glow-in-the-dark stars, my face green with clay and red with embarrassment, I fall hopelessly in love with the boy next door.

As soon as the door clicks, I flop back into my bed with a groan.





My mom pokes her head into my bedroom at nine on Monday night to find me curled up on the window seat. She smiles. “I knew you’d like that spot.”

I tuck my bookmark into my page. “Did you get hold of the electrician?” My new ceiling fan is sitting in a box in the corner.

“Not yet. It’s a long weekend. But I did speak to the plumber and he’s coming tomorrow afternoon. I’m hoping he can hook up the new washer right away, for the sake of my sanity, and so Uncle Merv can see that laundry machines shouldn’t move halfway across the room when they’re running.” She bites her lip. “You ready for tomorrow?”

I nod toward the new jeans and red top I laid out over my desk chair, as if that’s adequate armor for the first day at a new high school.

“Oh, that is a nice outfit.” My mom smiles as if picturing me in it. “Cassie will come by around eight to get you. And, listen, I told Heather you’d be willing to walk Cassie home after school. Emmett apparently has hockey every day.” She shakes her head, as if the idea of that is unimaginable. “It’s less than fifteen minutes. You’re good with that, right?”

“Sure. I guess.” It’s not like I have anything else to do.

She hesitates. “I was also thinking, Dr. Covey passed along a name of a therapist, not too far from here. About a half hour, I think. I could call and—”

“No, Mom. I’m good. Seriously.”

“But you should keep talking to—”

“No! That means a new doctor and going through it all again. Dr. C. helped me. She was good. I’m good. It’s been more than a year. I want to move on.”

Mom’s brow furrows deeply, as if she wants to push but isn’t sure if she should.

A chorus of shouts sound from outside. “What’s going on out there?” She wanders over to peer out my window.

“Emmett and his dad are playing road hockey.” I assume it’s his dad, anyway. The man is about the same height and he has a similar stride as Emmett, and he’s thrown his arm around Emmett’s shoulders twice since they hauled an enormous hockey net from the garage and set it up under the street lights in the quiet cul-du-sac an hour ago.

“It sounds like he’s the next big thing. Heather said he was scouted by that college a year ago. They only offer scholarships that early if the kid is going to be a star.” Mom watches as Emmett deftly maneuvers around his dad and shoots the puck. It sails into the top left corner. “They’re a nice family, aren’t they?”

“Seems like it.” I flip my book open again, pretending to read, though my eyes are still trained on the street. I’ve been staring at the same page for the past hour.

While Emmett’s dad goes to fetch the puck from the net, Emmett stretches his arms over his head. His gaze wanders casually over the street.

It comes to rest on my window.

I duck my head. “Mom, you’re staring!”

“Right. Sorry.” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she steps away, moving toward the door. “I have a good feeling about this year.”

“Yeah, me too,” I lie. Right now, I’m waffling between stomach-churning nerves and paralyzing fear of what tomorrow and beyond will bring. But for my mom, I’ll front.

“I think I’m going to turn in early. I’m exhausted after these past few days.”

“Okay. Good night.

“Good night. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Her eyes drift to the window, and a tiny, knowing smile touches her lips. “Don’t stay up too late.” She pulls my door shut softly.

I shift my attention back to the street in time to see a small red car pull into the Hartford driveway. That seems to be the man’s signal to head inside, patting Emmett on the shoulder. He walks past the driver’s side just as it opens and a girl wearing black shorts and pink tank top that show off her muscular legs and well-endowed chest steps out.

I groan. “And you must be Holly.” I take in her thick mane of honey-blonde hair that hangs halfway down her back in stylish waves and swishes as she skips toward a waiting Emmett. I can’t make out the details of her face from here, but I’m guessing she’s beautiful. A guy like that wouldn’t go for anything less.

I watch him coil his arms around her waist; she wraps her arms around his neck. She squeals as he lifts her up into a kiss.

And then I pull my curtains shut, an uncomfortable feeling churning in my belly.

I might as well slather on another mud mask because I am green-faced with envy.