Always You Read online

  “Oh.” Anne was unsure of whether Lucy wanted sympathy or was just dispensing information.

  “Has anyone asked you to prom yet?”

  How was Anne supposed to answer that?

  “Will I see you tomorrow?” Rick asked as they walked out of the movie theater, hand in hand.

  “You’ve asked me that every day. Has the answer ever been different?”

  He grimaced and kissed the back of her hand. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you without knowing when I’ll see you again.”

  “Maybe you should pick something a couple of years in the future, then. Just to make sure you’ve covered all your bases.”

  “Okay.” He said it in a joking tone, but his eyes were serious. “Prom?”

  Anne stilled. “We’re freshmen.”

  “So?”

  “The Academy doesn’t have a prom.”

  “My school does.”

  She pulled her hand out of his grip and took a step back. “Are you being serious?”

  “Prom serious.”

  “But seriously?”

  He reached for her, but she took another step back. “Anne—”

  “Prom is in three years. I know what I said, but… are you really asking me to be your prom date in three years?”

  He grinned and nodded knowingly. “I guess I haven’t really asked. Not the right way. I’m missing a corsage. I smell like popcorn.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am.”

  She’d said yes.

  Had he remembered?

  “It’s okay to go alone,” Lucy said. “Lots of people go to prom alone.”

  “I know,” Anne said defensively. The last thing she needed was Lucy coming to her aid. She was fine with going by herself. Rick was going alone, too, wasn’t he?

  But what if they didn’t have to go alone? The fantasy was always there, at the front of her brain. It played without her even having to willingly summon the vision of herself in Rick’s arms. And for the first time, it wouldn’t have to be just the two of them. Everyone—her friends, her classmates—would see how they felt about each other, so it wouldn’t be some deep, dark secret she held inside anymore.

  She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest, where it had begun to ache. She looked for Emma, who was gathering the catering volunteers in a circle around her. “Aren’t you supposed to be over there?” she asked Lucy.

  Lucy spun around, her mouth in a surprised O. She made a running start, slipped, and crashed sideways into the nearest picnic table. The wooden plank jackknifed in the air, sending plates crashing down. Lucy cried out as they rained over her.

  Anne sprang into action. She heaved the picnic table off Lucy. Angry red cuts appeared on Lucy’s arms. She tried to sit up.

  “Don’t move.” Anne ran an appraising look over every inch of Lucy’s skin.

  “My wrist.” Lucy clutched her right wrist in her left hand.

  “You have bruising. It’s probably sprained. I’m going to touch down lightly against your skin. Tell me how it feels.” Anne gently tapped two fingers along Lucy’s wrist.

  Lucy winced over the tender spot.

  Anne ran to the punch bowl and scooped out cubes of ice. She pulled off her cardigan and wrapped it around the ice, then returned to Lucy and set the makeshift cold pack against her wrist.

  “To help with the swelling. We need to get you to the nurse. Can you stand? Careful. You might have twisted your ankle, too.” Anne wrapped an arm around Lucy’s waist and pulled Lucy’s arm across her shoulders. She stood with a grunt as the girl’s weight dug into her side.

  A crowd had gathered around them, most of the volunteer caterers and Emma, too, who had found a broom and was sweeping away the remnants of chipped plates and glass.

  “You, in the open toes, step back,” Emma said with a wave of the broom. “No open toes until we clear this area. You there—can you go back to the catering truck and ask for eight more place settings? Also, bring back one of the garbage bags.”

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Anne said.

  “Why would you be sorry, Anne?” Emma’s green glare landed directly on Lucy. “You weren’t the one who did anything.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Lucy gulped. “I was trying to help.”

  “It was an accident,” Anne said. She could see it took considerable willpower for Emma to soften her glare and manage a reluctant expression of concern for poor Lucy.

  “I’ll find someone to cover for you. Go take care of those cuts. At least none of them were on your face.” Emma’s tone hardened at the last line, but fortunately, no one seemed to notice but Anne. “I know none of you drove, so I’ll have a car waiting outside for you.”

  “You’re the best,” Lucy said.

  “I know,” Emma sighed, turning away to finish giving her orders.

  Anne and Lucy took short steps out of the warehouse. As Emma had promised, within moments a car pulled up offering to take them back to the Academy, and the driver was nice enough to help Anne guide Lucy to the nurse’s office.

  She sat in the waiting room. A part of her knew she should be annoyed; she was missing her friend’s big dinner night. Missing out on being with her other friends who would soon all move to far-flung parts of the globe. She was losing another chance to spend time with Rick, even if he was ignoring her.

  Yet she was excited.

  Anne had always wanted to be a vet. She’d always wanted to help animals. But the truth was, life afforded her very few opportunities to do so, save for the occasional thirsty dog. When Lucy had been hurt, Anne hadn’t stopped to think. It hadn’t mattered who Lucy was or how much she annoyed her or whether Rick was coming through the door or who was leaving. For a moment, all that mattered, all that had existed inside of Anne, was this desire to make wrong things right.

  She’d seen Lucy’s cuts, the bruise on her wrist. Even now, it was driving her nuts to sit still in the waiting room. She wanted to see what was happening. She assumed they’d have wiped the wounds and covered them with anti-scarring and antibacterial lotion. Maybe even liquid bandages. Her wrist would have to be immobilized.

  After what felt like hours but could have been no more than thirty minutes, Lucy came limping out of the room, her hair a veil in front of her eyes. Her hand was resting in a sling secured around her shoulders.

  “Those don’t look so bad,” Anne said, pointing to the cuts on her arms.

  “Yeah, they’ll heal up. Not much scarring, which is a relief.” Lucy sighed. “Even the leg is just a bruise. But I sprained my wrist, like you said.”

  Anne lit up, grinning, then promptly went somber. “Not that I’m happy about it. Sorry.” There was no point in explaining. Lucy wouldn’t understand why she’d been so satisfied to have diagnosed her correctly. “Do you need help back to your room?”

  Lucy squirmed, her lips pressed together. “They never did find me a roommate since I transferred in late. I really don’t want to be alone. Do you think maybe…?”

  * * *

  “Just until Lizzie gets back from dinner,” Anne said for the tenth time. “She’s been writing a series for an online journal on the Academy’s last days, and when she writes she really needs to focus and won’t like having…” The word intruders came to mind. “Guests.”

  “This is so fun, like a sleepover.” Lucy sat down on Lizzie’s bed, crumpling the covers.

  “Maybe sit over here,” Anne suggested as she herded Lucy over to her own bed.

  Anne knew Lizzie would not be overjoyed to find Lucy in their room, so she texted her roommate an update of the situation. The response was swift.

  Ugh.

  Followed by:

  Dante is telling me to be nice. Pretend this is me texting something nice.

  Anne smiled as she tucked away her phone.

  “Who’s this?” Lucy asked. She’d made herself comfortable lying back on Anne’s bed. She picked up Bunritto. “Have you had it since you were a baby? I had a teddy bear, pink nose
with fake little claws that were really pillows. My mom threw him away one time when she cleaned my room.” Lucy pulled the bunny into her chest, dug her nose into its neck, and breathed in.

  Anne sat on the edge of Lizzie’s bed. Her fingers clawed at the mattress. It was just a bunny. It was just a toy. She shouldn’t care if Lucy picked it up and held it close. That was what stuffed animals were for. Besides, she was a grown-up. And grown-ups weren’t territorial over toys.

  Lucy lifted her head and eyed the barrage of Band-Aids, red stitching, and pen marks that marred the bunny’s surface. “What’s this all about? Were you playing doctor?”

  “Playing vet,” Anne said.

  Lucy grinned and held up her bandaged arm as far as she could in the sling. “We’re a matching set of your patients.”

  Anne was so grateful for the distracting knock on the door, even though she had no idea who it was. A moment later, before she’d even turned around, the door opened and Ellie stuck her head in.

  “Lizzie told me you had a patient in here. I thought I’d come by,” Ellie said. Her blue eyes melted sympathetically when she saw Lucy curled up on the bed. “Oh no, your arm.”

  “Wrist,” Anne corrected.

  Ellie let herself in and climbed onto the bed next to Lucy. Anne wasn’t sure how Lucy and Ellie had become so friendly with each other, given they had both dated Edward. It was to Lucy’s credit that she didn’t hold her breakup with Edward against Ellie, and a testimony to Ellie’s sweet personality that she didn’t want anyone to be mean to Lucy for her sake.

  Ellie cooed over Lucy’s wrist, and Lucy seemed to bask in the attention.

  “Do you need water for your painkillers?” Ellie asked. She ran out and brought back a glass of water. Lucy was asleep from the painkillers within a few moments.

  Ellie joined Anne on top of Lizzie’s bed, and they both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling.

  “You’re missing Emma’s party,” Anne said. “You should go.”

  “I will in a bit, but I want to make sure you’re okay. We can take shifts if you want.”

  “Nah.”

  Ellie stretched her legs up to the ceiling and touched her toes before letting her limbs fall back on the bed. She yawned and snuggled deeper into the mattress.

  Anne envied how comfortable Ellie was wherever she went. It was Anne’s room, but Ellie was the one who seemed as though she belonged. “Have you given any thought to your Post-it?” Anne asked. “Lizzie asks me about it every day. I feel like if I don’t come up with something, she’s going to make me uproot the courtyard tree.”

  “Actually, I already red-posted something,” Ellie confessed.

  Anne rolled to her side and propped up her head on her hand. “When? What? Does Lizzie know?”

  “I was going to tell everyone tonight, so I’ll let her know. It’s a little embarrassing. I wasn’t actually going to steal anything. I just figured I’d brush it off long enough for Lizzie to lose interest or move on to something else. But then I was walking past the trophy case, and I saw it.”

  “You stole a sports trophy? Why?”

  “Not a sports trophy. The Halloween Masquerade Dance costume trophy.”

  “But you didn’t win it,” Anne said, squinting. “Why would you want a trophy you didn’t win?”

  “I didn’t want the trophy. I just wanted the memory that came with it.” Ellie grinned. “It just made me feel good to remember what Emma and I went through together. How it all eventually led to me staying here instead of moving away.”

  “And Edward,” Anne said quietly. Something in her hungered at the way Ellie’s eyes lit up at the very mention of his name. Six letters, two syllables, somehow symbolic for happiness. She was happy for Ellie, but being happy also felt very lonely.

  Ellie’s lips curled up. “And Edward.”

  Ellie and Edward made being a couple look so easy. They gravitated to each other effortlessly, finished each other’s sentences, and reveled in each other’s silence. “How is he dealing with Guatemala? You leave in a couple of weeks. He’s staying in California.”

  “He’s finding new and creative ways for us to keep in touch,” Ellie said. “He also switched to a credit card with miles. And he’s learning Spanish. Faster than I am.” Ellie pursed her lips. “I think he’s been practicing in secret. It would be so like Edward to want to surprise me.”

  “You can learn in secret too.”

  “I suck at secrets. He would be able to tell in a second. I’m not like Lizzie and Dante—those two are the masters of double lives.”

  “Have you talked to Lizzie about Dante asking her to move to New York with him?”

  Ellie nodded. “She doesn’t seem like she’s into it, and I’ve seen them argue over it. I can’t believe they would consider breaking up just because they live an hour apart. I can’t even think of breaking up with Edward and it will be thousands of miles. It seems like if you find someone perfect for you, someone who is nice and smart and funny and fun and whom you love, why would you let distance get in the way?”

  If only Anne had had Ellie around to advise her when Rick had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and attend the military academy. Instead, she’d had her mother telling her how distance poisoned a relationship, how it could make everything you loved about someone change, wither, and shrivel.

  She’d pictured it happening to her and Rick. She had imagined wondering what he was doing when they weren’t together, wondering why he was taking so long to call her, speculating about his meeting someone else or going longer and longer without her.

  Anne hadn’t followed through with the next conclusion: that by breaking up with him, she had taken all her fears and ensured they became a reality.

  * * *

  Anne woke the next morning and blinked slowly, disoriented. The sun from the window normally fell on her face, but it seemed darker than usual. She couldn’t see the wall or her desk. She sat up. She was in Lizzie’s bed. Still fully clothed. And Lucy was in Anne’s bed, lying awkwardly on her back with her hurt wrist bent over her head.

  Rubbing her eyes, Anne swung her legs out and stretched. How late had she waited up for Lizzie after Ellie had gone?

  Where was Lizzie?

  Anne grabbed her phone and saw the message from her roommate.

  Don’t wait up.

  What did that mean? Had she even come back?

  Anne quietly riffled through her drawers for a fresh set of clothes—dark jeans and a white button-up shirt. She was supposed to be helping Rick’s mother today with the final photographs and reports to the preservation committee. At least she’d woken up on time.

  She texted Lizzie back.

  Where are you?

  Only Lizzie wouldn’t be awake at this hour, wherever she was. With a quick glance over her shoulder at Lucy, still asleep in her bed, Anne tiptoed into the hall. She quickly went through her morning routine of showering and brushing her teeth. She kept glancing at the phone she’d set on the sink, but Lizzie didn’t text back.

  The conclusion was simple: she’d stayed in Dante’s room. But why? All night? What did that mean?

  Lizzie had said she and Dante would have to break up. It was inevitable. So why would Lizzie then go and spend the night with him when it would make it all so much harder? Or had Lizzie lied to Anne or to herself about what she really wanted?

  Anne finished up in the bathroom and walked in a daze down the hall back to her room, her phone heavy in her hand. For everything that felt like it was changing, this was somehow the most disorienting, the most dizzying proof that nothing would be the same—and it wasn’t even something that had happened to her.

  Anne opened the door to her room and stopped short.

  Rick leaned against the wall next to her nightstand, looking down at Lucy.

  He was tall, lean. A stray lock of dark hair covered his green eyes. His hands were casually stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. He was smiling.

  Only instead
of looking down at her, he was looking down at Lucy.

  He glanced up at the sound of Anne coming in the door. “I’m just checking on your patient.”

  “Isn’t that sweet?” Lucy said. Her arm, which had been swung every which way all night, was now cradled against her chest as immobile as stone. “He heard about my accident last night at Emma’s event. My accident was all anyone was talking about, apparently.”

  Anne very much doubted Rick had made claims to anything being “all anyone was talking about.”

  “Do you know each other?” Lucy asked. “I assume you do, since your roommates are dating, but I never see you together.”

  “We know each other,” Anne said quickly.

  “We’re both from Merrywood, originally,” Rick answered.

  He never acknowledged their past, and Lucy seemed just as surprised. “So you’ve known each other for a while?”

  Rick shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we knew each other very well.”

  Anne felt as if her feet had been knocked out from under her, and she settled against Lizzie’s desk for support. It was one thing not to want her anymore, but another to deny their past. Didn’t know her very well? He had been the first person to know her, really. Didn’t he realize that? Maybe he didn’t care.

  “I just wish I’d known you were coming by so I could freshen up,” Lucy said. “Look at you, Anne. You look perfect, as usual, and I’m a mess.”

  “You look great, especially considering,” Rick said.

  Anne’s stomach roiled as Lucy blushed. She drew her hair into a ponytail low at the base of her neck and swallowed.

  “He’s taking me to breakfast. You should come,” Lucy said. “I’ll be back in a second. Let me get dressed.” She bounced out of bed and ran out into the hall, presumably to her own room.

  And just like that, Anne and Rick were alone.

  Not for the first time. They had been alone before, and each time was as sharp and poignant as the last. She kept thinking that if she exposed herself to him over and over, she would become inured, like a blistered finger that develops a callus from too much practice on an instrument. But she was no good at calluses, it seemed.