The Art of Losing(19)

“Another time,” I promised. “I should probably go see how Mom’s progress on Paris is coming along.”

Raf smiled, but it was strained. “Okay,” he said. “Say hi for me.”

I nodded but knew I wouldn’t tell her I’d seen him. It would open the door to questions I didn’t really know how to answer.





Two and a Half Years Ago



I first met Mike when he was still new at school. It was the end of October of our freshman year, and he walked into the cafeteria that first day alone. He was going to be on the lacrosse team. His reputation from his previous school team guaranteed him superstar status. He could have sat with his future teammates; he could have sat with anyone, really. But he happened to walk by my table, and when he saw that I had the first volume of Gail Simone’s Birds of Prey, he just sat down next to me and started talking about it, asking if he could borrow it when I was done.

Cassidy didn’t know what to make of this lacrosse star suddenly sitting at our table, completely ignoring everything around him except our conversation. But Mike didn’t care. Neither did I.

It turned out Mike was also in my Life Sciences class (a.k.a. biology—snooty prep schools always feel the need to rename perfectly normal subjects) and because he was new, he didn’t have a lab partner. Since we were supposed to dissect fetal pigs, Mr. Davidoff didn’t think it was fair for Mike to do it alone. At the time, I believed it was fate: my lab partner, Sanjay Patel, happened to be out that day. So Mike was assigned to me. His gleeful expression as he took his seat next to me would have made anyone think Mike had engineered Sanjay’s ear infection.

“Hey, Harley Quinn,” he said.

I actually wasn’t much of a Harley Quinn fan. She let the Joker treat her like garbage for so long. Plus, I couldn’t even dress like her for Halloween because I’d never go out in public in a black-and-red bodysuit or short shorts. But I never told Mike. He was one of the only people who knew I wasn’t named after the motorcycle company. I liked that.

His blue eyes were focused only on me, despite the handful of girls who were more popular, with shinier hair and thinner thighs under their uniform kilts. Their eyes were on me, too. The room was full of death glares.

“I didn’t realize we were at a point in our relationship where we were using nicknames,” I told him.

He grinned. “Would you prefer Harley Elaine Langston?”

I shook my head. “No way. I hate my middle name.”

“Okay,” he said with a laugh. “I just wanted to show you that I remember it.”

I leaned over, partly to get close to him, partly so no one else heard. “Don’t worry. I know how memorable I am.”

I don’t know where that confidence came from, except maybe from him. His attention made me fluff up like a peacock. But my confidence took a nosedive when the time came to pin the fetal pig’s feet belly up inside its tray.

“Harley Quinn, your hands are shaking like a junkie’s,” Mike said.

He took the pin from me and sat me down on the stool. Then he took both my hands in one of his and tilted my chin back so I could look at him. His fingers were warm, and his eyes were kind and concerned. And beautiful.

“You don’t have to do anything, okay? I’ll do the whole thing. You just sit here.”

I nodded, trying not to look at the shriveled body of the fetal pig.

Mike did exactly what he said he’d do: he completed the entire dissection—which took about a week—by himself.

When Sanjay came back to school, Mike told him to find a new lab partner. Even Mr. Davidoff didn’t argue with him.

That was the day I fell for him. I never stood a chance.





Chapter Six



A little more than a week after the accident, Audrey’s doctor announced that he’d seen enough positive results from the steroids that they were going to try to bring her out of the medically induced coma. Mom practically fell to her knees while Dad and I listened to the practicalities of what would happen. We had to fill her in after the doctor left the room.

“It’s going to take a while to ease her off the anesthetics,” Dad said. “And there’s no guarantee she’ll wake up. But Dr. Martinez is very hopeful. The swelling in Audrey’s brain has gone down, and her last CT scan showed that the damage from the brain injury was minimal.”

I nodded, smiling for Mom’s sake. Dad’s tone was calm and even. I got the hint. If Audrey didn’t wake up relatively soon, the chances of a full recovery just kept decreasing.

Mom must have known, too, because she began to cry. With his arm around Mom, Dad told me to go home and get some rest. Instead, I just drove around for a couple of hours. When I got back to the hospital, I could see on their faces that it hadn’t worked. She hadn’t woken up yet.

For now, we would wait. Again.

There was a knock on my bedroom door late Saturday morning. I was already awake. I’d gone to the bathroom and brushed my teeth even. But that didn’t mean I had to leave the comfort of my bed. Besides, Floyd was snuggled up next to me. I kept quiet, but the door opened anyway. Cassidy walked in. She carried a tray with two coffees and paper bags from The Flakey Pastry.

“Hey, lady,” she said. “That’s quite a nest you’ve created there.” She gestured to the tangle of blankets, the pile of pillows, and the lump of dog.