What Happens Now(53)

“I’m such an idiot,” I said as I swallowed down my medication. “Why would I tell him about last summer?”

“Do not blame yourself here! I won’t let you blame yourself.”

I sighed. “Okay. Yeah. He’s f*cked up. So am I.”

“So am I,” said Kendall. “So are we all. But that is not how you handle it when you’re weirded out or have low self-esteem or whatever. It’s in the manual.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was so good at doing that to me. “There’s a manual?”

Kendall shrugged. “It just came out. I’ll lend you my copy.” She paused. “So, what exactly happened? Did you . . . sleep with him?”

“No! I mean, well, yes. We slept. Nothing more. Nothing that would be on, like, a sex checklist.” Kendall gave me an odd yet somehow relieved look. “That’s in a different manual.”

She laughed. “I’ll trade you.”

It lasted only another second, the feeling that everything would be okay. Then it was gone, and I dropped my head into my arms on the counter. The tears pressed forward. Stupid me, who thought honesty was an all-or-nothing proposition. That you can get to a place with someone where the known world drops away and you can hyperspace into the Possible. There are always baby steps, and backward steps, and sideways steps. It’s the only way you ever get anywhere.

And now, maybe, we’d stopped dead.

I’d had that quick rush of feeling capable, and now I’d set us on a different trajectory. That hurt. An image flickered in my head. My arm. A razor blade drawing a line across it. Even the thought of this gave me some kind of relief, still. Even after all this time, that image always came to me when I called it. At least now, I understood why. At least now, I didn’t take it seriously.

I blinked it away, then sat up and wiped my face with the kitchen towel. It smelled like cinnamon. “Tell me about Jamie. Tell me about your night.”

Kendall described what sounded like an absolutely darling evening. She and James took photos of the 4-H kids holding their rabbits and chickens, grooming their goats. Kendall got some great shots of the lemurs in the traveling zoo. They bought milk shakes. They went on whatever rides they safely could, with their cameras in tow, and split a blooming onion. Later, they met up with Max and Eliza, who overshared that they’d messed around behind the horticultural pavilion.

“Do you like him?” I asked.

“A lot,” she said. “A lot a lot.”

“Should we ask Camden or Max to talk to him, find out whether he likes you back?”

“No way. Too embarrassing.” Her features tightened up. “Besides, if it were meant to happen, it should just happen, right?”

“Who says?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s bullshit. But for once, it would be great if something came to me easy the way it comes to everyone else.”

I knew she wasn’t only talking about boys. For years, she’d watched me finish homework quickly and get As while barely studying. I thought the fact of my depression had canceled that out in her eyes—see, not everything’s easy for me—but maybe not.

There was a knock at the front door, but before Kendall could even move toward it, the door opened. My mother poked her head in.

“Hello? Kendall? Ari?”

I froze and stared at my backpack on the hallway floor, which Kendall must have brought in from the car when she got home. Which contained my regular clothes.

“Mrs. Logan!” said Kendall. “What are you doing here?”

I stepped into the shadows of the kitchen. There was no way I could get to my backpack without Mom seeing, but at least I could stall for a moment.

“I was out anyway, so I thought I’d pick up Ari and save you a trip.”

“Ari?” Kendall called, turning around. Totally not getting why I was hiding near a coatrack.

I gave her a dirty look, indicated my Satina costume. Revelation lit up her face.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Now my mom walked into the house and closed the door. She saw my backpack and picked it up. “Ari?” she called again. “Ready to go? I’m bringing you straight to the store.”

“What do I do?” I mouthed to Kendall. Kendall shrugged. I imitated her shrug. She looked annoyed.

“For God’s sake, Ari,” she said, forgetting to whisper, “it’s not like you shaved your head or got a tattoo.”

“Who got a tattoo?” my mom asked, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

She looked at me. I looked back.

She smiled impatiently, but then her eyes traveled down from my face. The tunic, the Arrow One pin. The leggings and, in new context, the purple boots.

I watched as Mom’s glance swept back up my body, the change in her expression happening slowly. It looked like it might be the beginning of a smile, maybe even a laugh.

“I don’t . . . ,” she started, then restarted. “What . . . why are you dressed like Satina Galt?”

I couldn’t answer right away.

“You should see it with the wig,” said Kendall, who was holding Satina’s hair. This was not the response I would have gone with, personally.

Mom glanced at the wig, both confused and amused now.

“I went to the fair this way,” I finally said. “Me and some other kids.”