The Girl He Used to Know(42)

“Oh. Of course, Annika. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

She shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Jonathan talks about you all the time.”

“Mom,” Jonathan said.

“Sorry.” His mother smiled and winked at me. I had no idea what it meant, but I smiled back. His mom seemed nice, and for some reason, I felt instantly comfortable around her. There was something very unthreatening about her demeanor. Sometimes it was like that when I met new people. Maybe it was their vibe or some kind of aura, but whatever the reason, it always made me happy when I encountered them.

“When are you heading out?” she asked.

“In about twenty minutes. I just need to grab the rest of my things upstairs.”

“I’m sorry my mom called you by the wrong name,” Jonathan said after we went into his bedroom. “Katherine was my high school girlfriend. Maybe she got confused for a second. You both have blond hair.”

“That’s okay,” I said, because I truly hadn’t minded. I wasn’t that great with faces and names either.

Jonathan’s room looked a lot like mine, although much less cluttered. He had a lot of high school memorabilia, mostly swimming trophies and team pictures of him standing next to a pool. A stack of yearbooks sat on the floor next to the dresser, and on the wall hung a Waukegan High School banner with a picture of a bulldog. I felt like an archaeologist unearthing relics of a place I’d never visited. I found it fascinating.

“You have so many things from high school.”

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t. I was home-schooled.”

“Like, always?”

“I went to a regular school until my parents pulled me out midway through seventh grade.”

“They pulled you out? Why?”

“My mom said it was to keep me safe.”

I sat down on the bed and Jonathan sat down beside me. “What did she mean by that?” he asked.

I had refused to talk about that day with anyone but my parents, and the psychologist the school hastily arranged for me to meet with said it was possible I’d blocked it out. But that wasn’t true at all. I remember the day Maria and three other girls came for me like it was yesterday. I told Jonathan how they’d kicked and punched me, bloodied my nose and pulled my hair. How they’d shoved me into a single-stall bathroom in the locker room, turned off the lights, and pushed a chair under the doorknob on the outside so I couldn’t leave. I’d cried so hard and yelled for so long that by the time a teacher found me, lip fat and one eye nearly swollen shut, I’d grown so hoarse I couldn’t utter a sound.

“Annika,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Janice is the only person I’ve ever told this to. But I’m glad I told you.”

Telling him seemed right, in much the same way it had when I’d told him about Jake. It was like letting a dark and dusty secret out, and I liked the way I felt afterward. Unburdened. Lighter. I didn’t understand it at the time, but years later I would realize that sharing painful things that had happened to me was one of the ways I strengthened the bond I had with Jonathan.

He hugged me tight. “I don’t know what to say.”

That surprised me, because Jonathan never seemed at a loss for words. “It’s okay.” He must have needed a minute or something, because he squeezed me even tighter. When he finally let go of me, he pulled back a little and studied my face, traced my eyebrow and mouth gently with his thumb as if he needed proof that I’d healed sufficiently. “It was a long time ago,” I said.

He looked into my eyes and nodded. I turned away, and a shiny gold tube of lipstick on his dresser caught my eye. Pointing at it, I asked, “What’s that?”

“It doesn’t belong to another girl.” He answered quickly, although that possibility had not occurred to me until he said it. “The salesgirl must have thrown it in the bag when I bought your perfume. I didn’t realize it until I went to wrap your gift. I didn’t know what to do with it so I brought it home.”

I picked up the lipstick and removed the cap, becoming instantly captivated by the bright red color and especially the shape, curved and smooth and unblemished, like a brand-new crayon. “Do you like it?” he asked, and I nodded my head.

“You left the perfume at home.”

I looked down, embarrassed that I hadn’t realized I should bring the perfume with me after telling him how much I loved it. “Most smells are too strong for me to handle.”

“I should have given you the lipstick instead. I didn’t know. Now I do.” He motioned toward the door. “The bathroom’s across the hall. Go try it out.”

I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I hoped the lipstick wouldn’t feel like the sticky gloss I hated. Was I supposed to color in my lips or trace around them first? This was Janice’s area of expertise, not mine, and I’d feel foolish if I had to admit to Jonathan that I didn’t know what I was doing. I put the cap back on and set down the lipstick on the counter. Maybe I’d wait until I got back to school and could ask Janice to give me a lesson. Jonathan’s face appeared in the mirror next to mine, and I turned around.

“Aren’t you going to put it on?”