The Pretty One(28)

Is she crying? Please tell me she is not crying!

How can I tell her the truth when she’s blubbering with happiness? And then, for some horrible reason, a visual pops into my head: Lucy on the day I came home from the hospital, looking all loving and sweet as she helped me out of the car.

“It feels so good, doesn’t it?” she says. “To finally be happy again.”

Ugh! I’m speechless. Totally, utterly, speechless.

“I guess,” I manage.

Well, almost speechless.





My head is killing me. I need to talk to someone about this, and since Mom won’t be home for another couple of hours, I make my excuses to Lucy and do exactly what I would’ve done a year earlier if I was upset: I head to Simon’s.

Simon lives with his mother on the other side of Key Highway, in a giant fancy high-rise apartment building right on the water. I’m in such a rush to get there that I take the closest route, the highway. I’m pondering my situation when I hear someone yell, “Hellllooo beautiful!”

Suddenly it sounds as if I’m in the middle of the jungle. Monkey noises, shrill hoots, hollers, and whistles fill the air. “Beautiful lady in pink, give us a smile!”

Several men wearing orange safety vests are perched around a giant pothole on the other side of the street, waving and blowing kisses in my direction.

Are they talking to me? I look around, convinced there has to be someone else dressed in pink and risking death alongside the highway, but besides the cars zooming past, it’s just me.

“Make our day, beautiful lady!” says a man who is standing next to what appears to be a giant vat of tar. “Give us a smile!”

But I don’t feel like smiling. I feel like screaming STOP LOOKING AT ME, YOU PERVERTS! But I don’t. Instead, I start to run. Even though I’m wearing flip-flops, I run and run and don’t stop running until I reach Simon’s apartment building.

I walk through the enormous fern-filled lobby and into the elevator, which opens directly into Simon’s mother’s penthouse. I haven’t been here since last spring, but it looks exactly the same. Unlike the hobbit hole my family and I live in, Simon and his mom have a huge, cavernous, bright and airy open space with floor-to-ceiling views of the inner harbor. Everything is white—white furniture, white carpet, and heavy white drapes. With the exception of Simon’s crap, the entire apartment has that pristine-model-home-no-one-really-lives-here kind of look.

“Come on in,” Simon calls out. “Just give me a minute to straighten up.” He dashes out of the living room and heads toward the kitchen with an armful of newspapers.

“Simon, I don’t care if it’s messy.”

Simon appears, grinning ear to ear. The smile fades, however, the minute he sees me. “What’s wrong?”

I’m relieved that in spite of my new face my best friend can still tell when something is bothering me. “Oh…,” I say. “Nothing. Some guys were fixing the sidewalk and they started yelling at me like I’m a…stripper or something.” I have actually never seen a stripper or a striptease, but I imagine that’s how the average red-blooded construction worker might have responded to one.

“Really? What were they saying?”

And suddenly I realize how ridiculous this is. Am I going to complain that they said I was pretty? After all, they were complimenting me. I should be grateful. Right? They noticed me. And it’s better than having them yell “Hey, fatso.”

“Nothing,” I say, waving it away. “How about some tea?” I ask Simon, purposely changing the conversation.

“English breakfast or green?”

“English breakfast,” I say.

“English breakfast it is.” He grins as he turns toward the kitchen. “So how was your meeting with Pritchie?”

“It was okay,” I say. “But I ran into Drew Reynolds after school. He said he wanted me to try out for his play.”

Simon puts down the tea box. “Wow, that’s exciting, right?”


“Yeah, well, I was excited until I got home and Lucy told me that he’s going to be the director of the spring musical. You know what that means.”

“He’s her new boyfriend?”

I nod.

“Well, maybe it won’t work out. Maybe he won’t like her.”

“Oh yeah, right,” I say sarcastically. “You know that part he asked me try out for? Apparently he wrote it for Lucy.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he ask you to try out for the same role he wrote for your sister?”

I sigh and fall backward, up against the wall. “Who knows?”

Simon shrugs. “Sounds strange to me, but then again, I’m not really surprised. I know you have a crush on him and everything, but the guy has always seemed a little off. Not to mention full of himself. He never even bothers to look at anyone when he walks down the hall.”

“Off?” I stand up straight. “He’s not off at all. And he’s certainly not full of himself either. He’s just shy.” I know Simon’s just trying to comfort me in my time of need, but nobody badmouths Drew. Even if he was going to be my brother-in-law instead of my husband.

Before he can say anything else, I turn and walk out. I open the sliding glass door in the living room and step out onto the balcony, shutting the screen door behind me. I’ve always loved the view from Simon’s balcony, and today is particularly clear. I can see far into the Chesapeake Bay, to the shipping barges anchored offshore. Directly across the water are the Galleria and the Baltimore Aquarium, where the line of people waiting to see a bunch of fish wraps around the building.