Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things Page 6

  Sebastian headed inside the shop while Claire, Henry, and Edie waited on a bench out front. Edie scratched at an ink stain on her cardigan while trying to ignore the fact that she was wedged between Sebastian’s impossibly beautiful girlfriend and said girlfriend’s impossibly irritating brother: a.k.a. the tenacious slime machine. A simple no last night should’ve been the easiest thing in the world. How had she gone so spineless in the space of a single smile? Crushes seriously sucked, and they were shockingly potent.

  Edie took out her phone and added another post to her lexicon.

  Affluence

  noun

  A high level of wealth exemplified by the fact that the cheapest item at the local dollar store costs $9.95.

  A font that automatically adds extra letters to words like olde and shoppe.

  The elegant tint of eggshell Mansfield storeowners use to paint everything not made of brick, brass, or glass.

  She willed herself to be patient. Shonda would forgive her eventually. A little light humor was the best way to connect right now. Edie shouldn’t be too pushy, especially since seven texts, four voice mails, and three emails were probably pushy enough. Self-control had never been Edie’s strength. It wasn’t Shonda’s strength either, which was why she and Edie were so perfect as friends. They both cried at public service ads for pet shelters. They coped with angry customers at the Burger Barn by enacting violent revenge scenes with ketchup-covered french fries. Mostly they laughed.

  Edie checked her phone again, just in case.

  Nothing.

  As Claire finessed her already-perfect eyeliner and Henry chatted up a woman walking a dog in a sweater set (the dog, not the woman), Edie leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the sun warm her cheeks. She tried to focus on the little light speckles that danced across her eyelids. If she stared at them long enough maybe the speckles would drift down, seep into her skin, and fill all the empty spaces she’d been accumulating lately. One for Shonda. Another for her mom and her music. One for Sebastian and the curious chasm of an unfulfilled what-if. One for—

  “So, you and Sebastian used to come here together?” Claire asked, jolting Edie from her thoughts.

  “Sometimes,” Edie said. “When my mom and I were visiting my grandparents.”

  “Have things changed since you were kids?”

  Edie spun around to glance at the gold block letters on the window behind her.

  “I think they repainted the sign.”

  “The sign.” Claire chuckled softly. “Right.”

  Henry stifled a knowing smirk. Edie scowled at him, uncertain what was so entertaining. She didn’t have long to consider the possibilities because Sebastian exited the shop with his hands full of ice cream cones. He handed a plain vanilla cone to Claire, a decadent, chocolate-caramel cone to Henry, and a pink, fruity cone to Edie, all while struggling to keep his rainbow-sprinkled bright blue double scoop from toppling.

  “See?” he said to Edie. “They still have my favorite too.”

  She laughed, charmed that he hadn’t outgrown his love for Technicolor sweets, or his inability to consume them without making a total mess.

  “You always looked like you murdered a Smurf after you ate one of those.”

  “Only because you bit off the bottom of the cone whenever we swapped tastes.” He flashed her an unexpectedly coy little smile, one that would’ve called up a blush if Edie didn’t force herself to look away. He turned to Claire as he flicked sprinkles off his fingers. “Hope you don’t mind if my tongue turns blue.”

  “As long as I can kiss you while you’re still nontoxic.” Claire scooted forward and wedged her knees around his.

  Edie leapt off the bench. Sebastian stepped back to give her space.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I need to, I just, you know.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Window shopping.”

  “I love shopping for windows,” Henry said. “Mind if I join you?”

  Edie opened her mouth to say that yes, she did mind, but as Sebastian nestled himself onto the bench and Claire leaned over to taste his ice cream in a way that implied she’d willingly kiss him no matter how toxic his tongue was, she changed her mind. Henry was annoying, but he was company.

  “Sure,” she said without enthusiasm. “Why not?”

  Edie and Henry wandered down Main Street, circling the central green where the old church stood sentinel over a handful of oak trees and a perfectly mowed grass rectangle. They passed by three hair salons, a wax bar, and a pampered pet shop before pausing in front of one of the many antique stores that dotted the center of town. The window was filled with objects that sparked Edie’s imagination: rusty farming tools that looked like horror movie weapons; a stack of landscape-colored quilts; and a faded American flag with a molting, button-eyed corduroy elephant sitting on a corner.

  Edie began mentally composing. So many old things, no longer bold things, not yet sold, to unfold, all these stories-yet-to-be-told things.

  “Nice window,” Henry noted. “Though it depends what you’re shopping for. And what’s actually for sale.” He smiled subtly, in a way that implied he meant more than he said. Then he nodded at Edie’s cone. “Still your favorite, or have your tastes changed?”

  Edie shrugged and feigned interest in a display of old typewriters, but her eyes kept darting to Claire and Sebastian. They were snuggled together back on the bench, laughing at something only they could hear.

  “He’s not worth it,” Henry said.

  Edie felt the words like a slap. She turned to face Henry, her gut knotting. To her surprise, he wasn’t grinning like he was full of himself. His expression was softer, kinder.

  “There’s no point liking someone who doesn’t like you back,” he said. “It’ll never make you happy.”

  “Oh yeah? What makes you such an expert?”

  “I’ve been around a block or two.”

  “So I hear. I believe your sister mentioned a ‘trail of broken hearts.’”

  “Better to break a heart than to have your heart broken.” He watched her, unblinking, letting his statement sit between them like an ugly truth.

  Lacking sufficient evidence to argue the point one way or another, Edie kicked at the moss growing between the sidewalk cracks, channeling her irritation into the ground.

  “So whose heart are you planning to break next?” she asked.

  “Obviously not yours.”

  “Obviously.”

  As Edie emphasized the point with a sharp glare, Henry peered into the shop window, shielding his eyes and pushing his thick black bangs off his forehead.

  “I like your cousin,” he said, tossing the words out like an afterthought.

  “Stupendous.” Edie decimated more moss, smearing green and brown sidewalk guts across the toe of her sneaker. “Which one?”

  “Both, actually, but Maria’s more interesting than Julia.”

  “Maria has a boyfriend.”

  “Maybe that’s what makes her interesting.”

  “Competition?”

  “No. The confidence a girl has when she already knows someone likes her.”

  Edie stopped kicking at the sidewalk as she gritted her teeth. Hard.

  “A girl can’t be confident without a boyfriend?”

  Henry shrugged as he turned away from the shop window.

  “I don’t know, maybe, but having a boyfriend doesn’t hurt.” He crossed the sidewalk, leaned against an ornate lamppost, and polished off the last of his cone while Edie watched him, locked in place by a growing conviction that while Henry might not be a demon or a vampire, he was at least a little bit evil. “All I’m saying is that Maria doesn’t need me for anything, but it would be fun to figure out what she wants.”

  Edie’s cone snapped in her fist, collapsing to bits inside the wrapper.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I can be serious, though I generally prefer to be otherwise.” Henry tossed his paper wrapper into a nearby trash can
and brushed off his hands.

  “I thought you were only in town for a few days.”

  “I’m in town as long as I have a reason to be in town.”

  “A reason like ruining someone’s relationship?”

  When Henry offered no defense, Edie turned and marched away, pitching the remains of her cone and rethinking her desire for company. She sped past a nail salon, three virtually identical boutiques displaying pastel tailored coordinates, and a portrait studio, all while trying to convince herself that Henry’s little scheme didn’t stand a chance. Her efforts failed as images from last night’s party scrolled through her mind:

  Maria meeting Henry (enthusiastic).

  Henry meeting Rupert (calculating).

  Rupert spending the rest of the night conveniently parked with talkative neighbors, and without Maria (painful).

  Henry soon caught up and matched Edie’s pace, too close for anything even approximating comfort. She was so preoccupied with trying to put space between them, she stepped out into the street without checking for traffic. Henry grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the sidewalk as a car zoomed past.

  “Thanks,” she said as she stumbled backwards.

  “Anytime.” His hand remained on her arm.

  She glared at it until he let go.

  They waited in silence for the walk signal beside three impeccably groomed businesswomen in their thirties, all of whom eyed Henry like he was something to eat, and Edie like she was something to fumigate. Edie patted down her unruly hair while Henry simply watched the traffic go by, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face, totally unconcerned about what anyone thought of him. For a moment Edie’s mounting animosity was replaced with simple envy. Where did he get his rock-solid confidence? How could she find some for herself? If she asked him, could he teach her a few things, or was all that cool carelessness just a by-product of growing up rich and beautiful?

  She pondered that thought while they crossed the street, turned the corner, and headed up Union Street, the park to their right, the shops and salons to their left, the general air of wealth everywhere.

  “I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” Henry jogged a few steps to catch up with Edie’s aggressive pace. “You and I both know Maria and Rupert will soon be Splitzville, with or without my intervention. That relationship is a ticking time bomb.”

  “Not true. They have plans.”

  “Plans change.”

  “Not always.”

  Henry stepped forward and spun around in front of her, walking backwards, bending down to catch her eye. Edie zigzagged across the sidewalk, hoping he’d back into a lamppost, a sandwich board, or a short-tempered pedestrian with a really spiky purse. But he was persistent, and while she fumed, he seemed to think the whole thing was a game—teasing, testing, pushing his boundaries.

  “You know I’m right,” he said.

  “I know you’re a jerk.”

  Henry laughed, impervious to insult in a way that was seriously grating on Edie.

  “If Maria’s so committed to Rupert,” he said, not missing a beat, “then explain why she spent half the night flirting with me.”

  Edie scoured her brain for a credible answer. Failing utterly, she threw up her hands and beelined her way back to the ice cream shop. The only thing more infuriating than arguing with someone who assumed he was always right was arguing with him if he was always right. And if Henry’s confidence was as well earned as it seemed, pretty soon Edie wouldn’t be the only one in Mansfield nursing a broken heart.

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  By the time Edie, Maria, and Julia arrived at Saint Penitent’s, Edie’s ponytail was escaping its elastic and her stretched-out knee socks were slouched around her ankles. Norah didn’t feel it was necessary to buy Edie her own uniform, not when Julia’s spare would do. Too bad it didn’t quite fit. The blouse strained across Edie’s boobs and the skirt barely zipped over her hips, making the plaid pleats go all wobbly. The outfit even felt ugly. The skirt chafed against her thighs. The shirt collar was too high and tight. The polyester jacket seemed useful for only one thing: high-speed sweat production. Edie hoped the uniform would at least help her blend in with the other girls. If everyone was wearing the same thing, maybe no one would sense that she didn’t belong.

  She braced herself as she shifted her borrowed messenger bag back onto her shoulder, stumbled up the front steps, and followed her cousins into a bright hallway teeming with girls in uniform.

  “Time to learn who’s who,” Maria announced. “There are only, like, two hundred girls at Saint Pen’s, so you can’t disappear among the unwashed masses like you’re used to.”

  “Awesome,” Edie replied. “Glad I showered.”

  Maria ignored her sarcasm as she waved at a small cluster of pretty girls in heels, simple jewelry, and uniforms that’d been pinned or tailored to fit perfectly.

  “Those are the only people you need to know. My people. I’ll introduce you at lunch.” She nodded toward a group in sneakers and loafers with loosened ties and rolled-up sleeves. “Jocks. Sweat and ponytail crowd. No offense.” She pointed at a group with neatly knotted ties and backpacks that weighed down their shoulders. “Techies and grade chasers. Don’t be fooled by the lack of glasses. Just steer clear.” She sneered at a trio with printed stockings and colorful dyed hair. “Manga freaks. Steer even clearer.”

  Edie tugged at her jacket sleeves and gave her skirt hem a quick yank, wishing both were about two inches longer. Apparently blending in with the other girls was a pipe dream. The uniform didn’t help at all. She might as well be wearing a nametag that said, Hello, my name is Charity Case. Her insecurities deepened when she spotted Claire among the crowd, strutting down the hall like a runway model, her high heels clicking, her full hips swaying, her shampoo commercial hair sweeping her shoulders. It was truly amazing that the same outfit could make Edie look like a 1980s Scottish librarian and make Claire look like a sex goddess.

  As Claire swapped friendly greetings with nearly every girl she passed, Edie quickly confirmed what she’d already begun to suspect at the garden party. Claire was that girl. There was one at every school. She was the girl who had everything, and because she didn’t need anything from anyone, she was powerful. If she liked you, laughed at your jokes, invited you into her inner circle, hell, if she even knew your name, your social status increased. Despite the cliché, the Claires of the world weren’t necessarily cruel. They were something far more formidable. They were confident. Edie didn’t stand a chance with Sebastian. When that girl picked you, you held on.

  Edie got her course schedule and paperwork in the main office. Then her cousins walked her to her first class through off-white hallways with old-fashioned architectural details, rows of shiny maroon lockers, and gray marble floors. Despite the atmosphere of tradition and sophistication, the ceiling was lined with the same quivering fluorescent lights that’d illuminated Edie’s old school, though these were cleaner, brighter, and devoid of dead bugs.

  As the girls turned a corner toward the classrooms, they passed a bulletin board with several catchy signs soliciting votes for prom queen. Edie paused to take a look.

  “You guys have a prom here?” she asked. “With just girls?”

  “Of course we have a prom.” Maria pulled out a compact and finessed her lipstick. “With boys. We join forces with Holy Cross, the all-boys school on the other side of town, but you can bring anyone you want, or pine away dateless like poor Julia.”

  Julia glowered, folding her arms and locking them firmly across her chest.

  “I’m only dateless temporarily,” she said.

  “You don’t seriously think you-know-who is going to ask you?” Maria scoffed as she snapped her compact shut. “He’s so far out of your league you aren’t even in the bleachers. You aren’t even, like, the hot dog vendor.”

  “That’s not true.” Julia stood up a little straighter. “He thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “He
thinks you’re a child.”

  “He asked for my phone number. And he gave me this.” Julia reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of tissues. She carefully unfolded them, revealing a small, wilted white rose.

  Maria sputtered with laughter while Edie covered her face with both hands, peeking through her fingers as though trying not to see what was desperately apparent.

  “Don’t tell me you’re hoping Henry Crawford asks you out,” Edie said.

  “Maybe.” Julia darted a defiant look at her sister.

  Maria egged her on by wiping away fake tears.

  “Steer clear of that guy,” Edie pleaded.

  “Why?” Julia asked. “Because you like him?”

  “God, no.” Edie grimaced. “He’s slime on rice. He’ll use you to feed his ego and then spit you out again. Hold out for someone who’ll treat you better.”

  “Julia likes bad boys,” Maria teased. “She’ll date anyone with a motorcycle, a skull tattoo, or a pierced nipple.”

  “Well, you’ll date anyone at all,” Julia spat.

  “At least I have options.”

  “Bet Rupert’s glad to hear that.”

  Edie halted the bickering by reminding her cousins they needed to get to class. She prayed Julia’s crush was just a brief flutter of flattery and that Henry wasn’t actually serious about his heartbreaking agenda. Maria could probably handle herself but Edie wasn’t so sure about Julia, especially if he pursued both girls at once. God forbid.

  * * *

  Edie struggled through her first few classes, disoriented and displaced, though her biggest challenge wasn’t following a lecture on a book she hadn’t read, recalling how to find derivatives, or conjugating irregular verbs she’d never seen. It was being around Claire for three hours. Trying not to hate someone was exhausting, especially when that hatred was totally irrational. Claire didn’t do anything to earn Edie’s animosity. On the contrary, she informed Edie about how to get on the good side of each teacher, offered to share her notes, and otherwise fulfilled her promise to help Edie settle in. Still, did she have to be so gorgeous? Couldn’t she have one tiny flaw, just to make the people who sat in her shadow feel less like mutants in comparison? A mole, a wart, or an embarrassing unicorn tattoo hastily inked after too many wine spritzers?