Literally Page 13

  “I know you can hear me,” I say to Lucy out loud. “I know this is the point of a love triangle, but it still sucks.”

  I open my locker and a note falls out on turquoise paper. Poor you, it says in scrawling cursive. And a few lines below: That was sarcasm. At the top, in beautiful calligraphy, it reads FROM THE DESK OF LUCY HARRISON KEATING.

  20

  Animal Man

  I’M JUST wrapping up a newspaper meeting at the end of the school day when Will knocks gently on the doorframe.

  “Are you busy?” he asks, before nodding to Hector in greeting.

  I look at Hector, who is waiting to discuss next week’s layout. “Are you cool to wait a couple minutes?” I ask.

  “No problem,” he says. “I’m gonna go grab a soda from the vending machine. Looks like this may be a late one tonight.”

  When we’re alone, Will runs a hand through his hair. He seems nervous. “I have something to run by you, but I’m genuinely concerned you might think I’m crazy,” he says.

  “Try me,” I say over my shoulder, as I make one last note on the dry-erase schedule. Because nothing surprises me these days.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’re definitely going to think I’m crazy when I tell you we can only discuss it in the bathroom,” he replies. Slowly, I cap the marker I was using, and set it down on a table. I have a feeling I know what’s coming.

  A few moments later, I am sitting on the sink of the single-person handicapped bathroom, and Will stands in front of me, wielding a comic book. I realize Hector is probably going to think we are making out in here, but I don’t care.

  “So, I’m not quite sure where to begin,” Will says. “That first day in class when we met Lucy Keating, I couldn’t figure out what you were so upset about. It seemed really out of character for you, a straight-A student and a writer, to struggle so much with Fiction. But then I got to know you, and I understood. Lucy had described your life. The reason I was late to class that day wasn’t because I was late. I was nervous. I was waiting outside the whole time, and I heard her. So then I started secretly reading her books. And I couldn’t help but think about how odd it was. How familiar. My family moving here on such short notice at such a dramatic time, senior year. The way I …” He looks down for a second. “The way I felt the moment I first saw you. Like I’d been struck by lightning.”

  I blush.

  “I thought I was overthinking the whole thing. Being crazy about someone will convince you of anything. But then I was reading one of my comic books.” He holds it out to me. On the cover is a superhero-looking guy in a leather jacket, ’80s shades, and what appear to be no pants.

  “Where are his pants?” I ask.

  Will pauses, surprised, and looks at the cover again. “He’s wearing pants. His leggings are orange. I can understand the mistake, actually.” He stops and shakes his head. “But that’s not the point!”

  “Sorry!” I say, flipping through some pages. “Please, continue.”

  Will points at the cover. “I’ve been really into the story of this guy Animal Man, who was created, like, half a century ago, but has been revived again in the last twenty years. Comic book writers sometimes send weird, meta messages in their work, but as I just learned, Animal Man is one of the most notorious, blatant uses of this. In Animal Man, the main character actually begins to discover he is a character in a comic book. And he meets the comic book writer himself.”

  He flips to a page and opens it, and I feel like I’m experiencing déjà vu. In the scene, a man in a sweater is telling Animal Man that he’s written his life, and he points to words on a computer screen that describe everything that is happening around them.

  “Holy shit,” I said. “So much for being original.”

  Will’s big eyes are staring at me intently as he speaks, his words coming out quickly. It’s so amazing that he’s figured this out all by himself, when Elliot wouldn’t even consider the idea when I told him face-to-face. In making Will a recovering comic book addict with a wild curiosity, Lucy Keating may have just created a monster.

  Will is still talking. “It’s true, isn’t it? I read that, and I got sincere goose bumps thinking about your interaction with Lucy in class that day. And I know this is all crazy, but it also feels weirdly right. And I have a feeling you already know that,” he says.

  I take a deep, slow breath, and then slowly, I nod.

  “You did,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

  “I did,” I say finally.

  “I knew it!” Will yells, and I shush him. He puts his hands in his hair and leans his head back toward the ceiling. “This is nuts,” he finally says.

  “You have no idea,” I say.

  “How long have you known?” he asks.

  I think for a moment. “She told me that day in the parking lot. But I didn’t totally believe her until—” I pause. Until I realized I wanted to kiss both you and Elliot. Until Elliot got lost in Santa Monica. Until I realized Lucy Keating was trying to give me a Happy Ending I didn’t want, I want to say next. “Until the night of your party,” I say instead.

  And then I tell him everything. The changes in eye color, in the ice cream, the rain, staying up all night in Rosewood Café & Bookstore. I tell him everything except the parts about kissing Elliot. But I tell him a little bit about that, too, about the love triangle. About Elliot getting hit on the head with the drumstick, and about how hard it was for him to get to Will’s party that night. Will is quieter during those moments.

  “I’m not thrilled to be a part of this love triangle,” he says. “But I guess it’s the nature of the beast.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say.

  “And besides, I intend to fight for you like hell, so I’m not really worried.” He grins, and even if only a few hours ago my mind was filled with Elliot, I smile, too.

  But an hour later, after my meeting with Hector, Will still isn’t satisfied. I find him waiting in the hallway, his hair messier than usual, and his usually perfect button-down all wrinkly.

  “I just have so many questions,” he says as he drives me home. “I keep thinking, what is real and what isn’t? What of my decisions are really mine at all?”

  “Welcome to the club. It’s best not to think at all,” I say dryly, adjusting the radio.

  “Like maybe I don’t even—” Will starts.

  “Maybe you don’t even like me?” I cut in, but Will’s face goes dark.

  “No, I definitely like you; I never doubted that for a minute,” he says. “I actually was thinking, maybe I’m not such a good guy after all.”

  At this I snort through my nose. “You are the ‘goodest’ guy of all,” I tell him.

  “But maybe I’m not!” he exclaims as we stop at a light. “Maybe I am because she made me that way. What would happen if I broke the rules? Step outside myself? Sometimes I feel like quite literally I can do no wrong. But what if I could, if she’d just let me?”

  “Well, maybe you should try,” I tell him. “Try to break the rules and see how it goes. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but I think there’s a way.”

  “Yeah.” Will nods, staring off, his mind clearly somewhere else. “Yeah, I’m sure there is. We just have to know where to find it.”

  21

  Today Was a Good Day

  I’VE JUST aced a pop quiz in history class the next day when Dr. Piper pops her shiny-haired head in and whispers something to Mr. Ober before both cast a glance my way.

  Silently, I point a finger to my chest and mouth Me?

  They both nod.

  “It’s nothing serious,” Piper assures me as she walks me to the front doors of the main building, her heels click-clacking the whole way, her hips swaying from side to side. “Your father said it’s his mistake: He thought he booked the tickets to your great-grandmother’s ninetieth birthday for tomorrow, Friday, but he actually booked a day early by accident, so you all have to rush to the airport.”

  I nod, thi
nking in my head that neither of my grandmothers is older than eighty-two. But if there’s one person in the world I don’t mind deceiving, it’s Piper, and I’m curious about what’s going to happen next. It’s interesting that she’s not the least bit suspicious. I bet she’d never let Elliot get away with something like this.

  “There’s a car outside waiting to take you to the airport,” she says, and when we open the front door, sure enough, a black Escalade is waiting. This continues to mystify me, since my father hates paying for even a taxi to the airport. I saw him and my mom take a black car once, to a reunion screening of his TV show, but only because she had insisted.

  “Come on,” she’d said, wrapping her arms around his tuxedo shoulders when it rolled up, while she herself looked stunning in a sophisticated black gown. “Live a little.” They both grinned at each other. Thinking of the memory now makes my heart ache.

  “Thanks so much for understanding, Dr. Piper,” I say, shaking her hand, and walk out the doors with the feeling like I am a cast member of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

  Then, once she’s safely out of sight, I hesitantly open the door to the SUV and peer inside.

  Seated at the wheel is a familiar face, and it’s grinning.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Breaking the rules,” Will says, and he looks like he’s never been prouder of anything in his whole life.

  Sunset Boulevard, just west of Doheny, is one of my favorite drives in LA. The road slopes in and around, up and down, passing high gates and the occasional giant home that’s out in the open for all to see. Will and I came up this way the other day on our Tour of the Stars, but it never gets old. This time we are taking it all the way to the ocean. Will explains the car belongs to his father.

  “Midlife crisis car. I took it to school this morning, then faked sick, and called in the excuse.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because I want to prove Lucy Keating wrong!” he exclaims. “I want to make our own rules. She isn’t running our lives, Annabelle. She can’t. Today, we decide.”

  Just then a text comes through on my phone. It’s Elliot.

  Are you coming to the show?

  I watch the little bubbles move for about a minute, curious as to what he will say next, but then the bubbles stop altogether. I exhale.

  “Game on,” I say to Will, and shut my phone off.

  Will wants to get as far away from our world as possible, so we head for northern Malibu, and stop at the Malibu Country Mart to get provisions. It’s one of my favorite places to go for lunch. Barrels full of any kind of chip you like, a wall full of candy, and sandwiches that make your mouth water. It’s only on our way out that I notice the cookies.

  “Those are the size of my head!” I exclaim.

  “So take one,” Will says.

  I look at the line, wrapping around the interior shop. “It’ll take too long. Not worth it,” I say.

  “No, Annabelle,” Will says, his tone becoming conspiratorial. “Take one.”

  My eyes go wide. “We’re exhibiting free will! Not stealing!” I protest.

  “It’s one cookie, Annabelle!” Will whispers. “They make it for fifty cents and sell it for six dollars. I’m guessing you’ve never even stolen a piece of dental floss before. So just do it.”

  I swallow, take a deep breath, then quickly tuck the giant cookie under the sweater I’m holding.

  We take off running for the car, and I let out a squeal the whole way. I can’t remember the last time I felt so exhilarated. I split the cookie open, and we each take a huge bite.

  “Mmm, tastes like rebellion.” Will chuckles between chews. I laugh harder.

  We keep driving up the coast, the houses getting farther and father apart, no longer lining the western side of the Pacific Highway. Instead there are farm stands, dunes, and bushes filled with pink flowers. When we arrive at the beach parking lot twenty minutes later, Will is just about to pull his credit card out to pay for parking at the kiosk, but I stop him.

  “What if you don’t?” I say.

  “But we have to.” Will frowns.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because the sign says so,” Will says. “Because it’s the law. Because my dad has no idea I have his midlife crisis Escalade in Malibu right now.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “So?” I ask. “It’s Thursday at three P.M. Nobody is here. Nobody is gonna be checking. What’s the worst that could happen if they did?”

  Slowly, Will nods. Then smiles and nods faster. “You’re right,” he says. “Cool.”

  We walk to the trailhead, the Pacific Ocean spreading out in front of us against the horizon. We hike along a steep ridge overlooking the water, and start to wind our way down to a mostly empty beach. Just when we are about to make our final descent, Will stops, and looks out from our little point of land.

  “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask him.

  “Let’s jump.” Will turns to me, his eyes wide.

  “What?” I ask. “Is that safe?”

  Will points to a sign. “Jump at your own risk.”

  “Exactly,” I say.

  “If it wasn’t safe they’d tell us not to jump at all,” he protests.

  I think harder. “She probably wouldn’t let us die anyway, right?” I ask. “If she’s really done with tragedies.”

  Will thinks. “She does in Across the Sea, I suppose.”

  “But that was different. That was a tragedy, and that death served more of a purpose. To die now would be senseless, foolish. Lucy would never let us do that,” I assure him.

  “You’re really learning a lot in Fiction class,” Will says, clearly impressed.

  “Thanks.” I smile.

  “Screw her either way,” Will says, and starts pulling off his clothes.

  I follow his lead. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” I yell, unhooking my sandals and shimmying out of my shorts.

  We stand at the edge in our underwear. “You ready?” he asks.

  “I think so,” I say.

  And we jump.

  When we come to the surface a minute later, I feel so energized I could swim for miles. Will whips his hair around and howls like a wolf.

  “That was incredible!” he cries.

  I laugh and howl, too, and then we are laughing and howling and the sea is whipping around us and the sun is just lowering in the sky. I have never felt so free before. And all with … Will?

  “This has been a pretty good day,” Will says as we crawl out of the water and on to the sand. I’m grateful that none of my undergarments are white, but I also don’t really care. I can’t help noticing Will’s smooth, tan skin, though.

  “It has,” I say, grinning, wiping salt water off my face. “Thanks to you.”

  Will stops. “It almost makes me wonder.”

  “What?” I ask. “If we should skip school more often?”

  Will just chuckles, still catching his breath, and lays his head down. “No,” he says. “Don’t get mad.”

  “I won’t get mad,” I promise.

  “I wonder if maybe she planned this all along?”

  My smile disappears, and I start digging in the sand. I refuse to let her ruin this. I refuse to let the idea of Lucy Keating cloud my judgment, my feelings, my happiness. That was the point of today, after all.

  “What do you think?” Will pushes.

  “Today has been a good day, Will,” I say. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  Will nods, staring up at the sky. “Okay, Annabelle,” he agrees.

  I look at him for a moment, and then, slowly, I lie down next to him, and lay my head on his chest.

  “Do you mind?” I ask, still feeling unsure until I feel his big, warm Will arm come around my shoulder, and his hand rests gently in my hair.

  “I don’t mind,” he says softly, combing his fingers through some of it as we slowly drift into sleep.

  22

  I’m Sorry You Had to See This

&nb
sp; THE NEXT night, I peek my head into my parents’ bedroom, where I find my mom reading a book on an Italian architect named Palladio.

  “You’d like this guy,” she says, pointing to the cover. “He’s all about symmetry and simplicity.”

  “I learned that from you,” I say, getting in next to her and curling up on my side.

  “Sort of,” she says. “I like symmetry, but I’m not necessarily good at it. You got my love of symmetry with your father’s intensity. Somehow we created a perfect child.”

  I wince and stare up at the ceiling.

  “What’s up?” she asks, folding the book and setting it aside.

  “Lately, I don’t feel so perfect. Lately, I just feel kind of out of control,” I say. “Like I lost my footing somewhere and I can’t get it back.”

  “You’re the most in-control person I know,” my mom tells me.

  “That’s part of the problem. I don’t really want to be that person anymore,” I say. “But I always seem to veer to extremes. I just want to find myself.”

  “Sometimes you have to do something really scary to find yourself,” she says, folding one arm behind her head for more support.

  “Yesterday I cut school and jumped off a cliff in Malibu. Does that count?” I ask. “And I still feel confused.”

  Most moms would probably ground me. My mom just nods. “Who did you do that with?” she asks. “Elliot?”

  I shake my head. “Will.”

  “That’s surprising. Is he your boyfriend?” she asks.

  “He’s just a friend,” I say. “I think.”

  “Are you going to Elliot and Sam’s show tonight?” my mom asks.

  “I haven’t decided… .” I hesitate.

  “Now that Clara’s back?” She wrinkles her nose.

  I shoot her a look, annoyed at how much she understands everything. “Yes” is all I say. Then I get up and start walking toward the door.

  “You know what I think, AB?” my mom says. “I think things change. People change. You don’t know what’s coming next. I think you have to try your hardest to find your best self, and the person who makes you your best self. I know that better than anyone. Your father and I were that for each other, for a while. But we might not be anymore, and that’s what we’re trying to figure out.”