And then, in the car on the way home, as we parked in front of my house, he’d said that he wanted to tell me something. The street light behind us threw a shadow over his face. He’d taken off that silly red tuxedo tie, and a faint sheen of perspiration gleamed along his jaw. I didn’t wait for him to say anything more. Instead, that same longing I’d felt in the car at Christmas reared its head again. This time, I leaned over and kissed him. Really kissed him. Like, pressed myself against the front of him, flattened both my hands against the lapels of his tux, and leaned in with my whole weight, kissed him. I could taste Certs against the heat of his tongue.
But he’d pulled away, looked at me with liquid eyes that I could not read.
I held my breath, waiting.
“I’m sorry…,” he started, shaking his head a little. “I just…”
I turned and bolted, mortified that I’d misunderstood.
That was in May.
Today was June fourth.
He hadn’t said another word to me since.
I closed my sketch book, stood up, and walked over to my dresser. Taped in the corner was Milo’s little cardboard note. I ran my fingertips lightly over the words: “no one, not even the rain…” and closed my eyes. I would give up anything, I thought, even being introduced tomorrow in front of a crowd of eight hundred people as the valedictorian of Silver Springs High School, if I could kiss Milo again—and have him kiss me back. For real this time.
“Jules?” My doorknob rattled softly, followed by a light knock on the door. “Are you in there?”
I threw the sketch pad in my bottom drawer again and snatched my speech from off the top of my desk. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m working, Mom.” I rattled the papers loudly for good measure.
She sighed. “Okay. Dad just got home. We’re eating in ten minutes. Swiss steak with buttered noodles. Your favorite.”
“All right. Be right there.”
I stared back out the window.
But Milo had disappeared.
chapter
2
Sitting in the back of Dad’s car the next morning, I took a slow, deep breath. My anxiety, which was already on a steady incline, shot up as I caught sight of my reflection in the rearview mirror. A gold graduation cap was set neatly on a head of straight brown hair, parted in the middle, and tied back in a ponytail. My white face, accentuated by a high forehead, half-circles under my eyes, and chipmunk cheeks, had a deer-in-the-headlights kind of look to it. Even my lips, which I had painted with a light pink gloss, had a sad, ridiculous sort of quality to them, like I was trying too hard.
God. How could I have ever thought that Milo would be attracted to me? I was the quintessential nerd, the exact opposite of his free-spirited, poetic whatever the heck he was. School was my thing. School and grades. To perfection. And I had done it. In less than an hour, Principal Bellas would introduce me as the valedictorian of my whole class. Out of three hundred and seventy-seven students, I had come out on top. First. The head cheese, as Dad liked to say. Numero uno. It was definitely something to be proud of. The first of many larger steps to come.
I closed my eyes, whispering the first line of my speech in my head. “Fellow graduates, Superintendent Ringold, Principal Bellas, Vice Principal Elias, family and friends, welcome.”
Mom and Dad came racing out of the house then, Mom in front, Dad turning to double check the door and straighten the welcome mat.
“Hurry, John!” Mom called, getting in the front seat. “She can’t be late!”
“Here I am,” Dad said, collapsing into his seat. “We’re all set.”
Mom had put on too much perfume. The cloying scent, combined with the mid-morning air, already thick with heat, was starting to make me nauseous. On the seat next to me was an enormous assortment of red and pink roses, which Mom had put together just this morning at the florist shop. I rolled down my window and closed my eyes. Underneath my gown my phone started buzzing.
“Where r u?” Zoe’s message read.
“Just left,” I texted back. “Be there in 10.”
“Dad,” I said, leaning over his shoulder. “Can you hurry? I was supposed to be there five minutes ago.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” he said, stepping on the gas again. “I think the whole damn town is going to the same place. Hold on.”
Mom braced herself as Dad made a hard right on Walnut Street, and sighed deeply as he settled back into traffic. “It’s so nice that Sophie’s coming, isn’t it?” she asked.
Sophie was my older sister. She was eight years older than I, and had left Silver Springs when I was in fifth grade. She lived somewhere in Vermont now, working as an aide in an old persons’ home. Every so often she graced us with a sudden appearance, descending on Silver Springs amid a flurry of demands, cigarette smoke, and her perpetual negative attitude. Her departures were just as abrupt, leaving Mom and Dad (and me, back when I cared) in a state of complete disarray. I was not exactly looking forward to seeing her.
Mom turned to look apologetically at me. She had accidentally let Sophie’s secret out of the bag, letting it slip last night at dinner. “Please don’t let on that you know she’s coming, Julia. She really wanted to surprise you.”
“Mom.” I cocked my head, trying not to let my annoyance show. “You’ve told me that at least ten times already. Don’t worry. I won’t let on that I know.”