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  Anne approached Lucy’s bed. A chair was already pulled up next to her night table, so she sat. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Vicodin makes everything better,” Lucy said. “But now I’m on aspirin.”

  “Strong enough?”

  “It’s numb.” Lucy winced as she sat up higher on her pillow. “But the numbness still hurts.”

  “Can I bring you anything?”

  “Rick already came by twice.” Lucy glanced at the bedside table with a secretive smile.

  Anne’s gaze swept over a bouquet of flowers in a thin glass vase, a pile of magazines, an ice pack, and a handful of energy bars. So Rick had not only stayed with Lucy while she was unconscious, he had also visited her and brought her kind, thoughtful gifts.

  Anne had visited Antarctica once with her mother on a misguided shaman trek. Her skin had cracked, dried, and bled under the barrage of icy wind.

  Her insides felt the same way now.

  Anne realized that Rick saw Lucy as someone who knew her own mind. He would never be in danger of Lucy breaking up with him. She’d wanted Rick enough to climb a ladder and risk her neck to be close to him. A girl who couldn’t be persuaded by either good sense or her own well-being to stay away from him.

  Rick must love that about Lucy. Why shouldn’t he?

  “You shouldn’t have to bring me anything,” Lucy said. “You’re the one who saved me. Twice! That’s more than enough. Rick was saying you wanted to be a doctor or something?”

  “Vet.” Anne’s voice cracked. “I want to be a vet.” He wouldn’t have gotten it wrong, would he?

  “I figured something like that, with your stitched-up bunny and all. For what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be great at it.”

  Anne could honestly say, “I think I might be, too.”

  After making sure Lucy really didn’t need anything else, Anne went back to her room and collapsed at the foot of her bed. She rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest in tight circles to warm herself.

  She had no idea how long she sat there, numb, when she noticed her phone was buzzing. She’d hoped for strength to deal with her mother after visiting Lucy, but mentally, she felt weaker than ever. She answered it, and her mother was already in mid-conversation. “The wind could give a fig about my hair today.”

  “I’m sure you look fine, Mom,” she replied by rote.

  “Anyone can look fine, Anne. I have to look like me. Did the Board recommendations come through?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Of course they’d take their time about it. No matter. I’m dying to show you the new place. Let’s talk over tea.”

  “I can’t fly to Barcelona right now.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m in Merrywood.”

  Anne stood and twirled around as if she expected to see her mother looming over her shoulder. “When did you get here?”

  “This morning. I just told you. The wind is atrocious. I’ll send a car, dear. Wear your Sunday best.”

  * * *

  Anne didn’t recognize the house that the town car pulled up to. It was about two miles north of downtown, nestled in the rolling Merrywood hills where the homes had Olympic-sized pools and iron gates painted white.

  She exited the car, approached the front door, and knocked. After a few moments, a woman in a pink Chanel skirt suit with matching nails opened the door. She was a shock of lipstick, bouffant blond hair, and blue eyes that disappeared into slits when she smiled. “You must be Anne. Come on in, come on in.”

  Anne tried to place her on her mom’s list of friends. Maybe she owned the house. But she couldn’t think of a familiar name. “Is my mom here?”

  “She’s kicking up her feet poolside. Now come in, let’s not waste the air conditioning and cool the whole neighborhood.”

  Anne looked over her shoulder, contemplating a run back to the town car, but then walked inside as the woman shut the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  After only a moment’s hesitation and shock, the woman grinned again. “I’m Pat—you know, from Pat’s Chat on 88 FM radio?”

  “I’m sorry.” Anne shook her head. “I don’t really listen to the radio.”

  “From the billboard off the I-5? Well, don’t you worry. Your mom is in good hands.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Hurry along, honey.” She led Anne by the arm to a kitchen with a marble island and patio doors leading out to a wooden deck. “Why don’t you say hi to your momma and tell her how much you love the place. I’m going to make that cup of tea she said you’d want.”

  Anne was annoyed enough with her mom that she strode away from chatty Pat, not even bothering to tell her she didn’t want tea. She rolled open the patio screen and strode, determined, out to the pool deck. Her mother was lounging in a black bikini and transparent white robe. She slipped her sunglasses off her nose to the top of her head.

  “Anne, have a deck chair. Pat is bringing tea.”

  “Who is she, Mom?”

  “She’s the real estate agent. I told you I found the perfect place.”

  Anne crossed her arms and stared down at her in disbelief. “We can’t afford this place.”

  The cheerful expression slid off her mother’s face, and she whipped her head around to the patio door. “What has gotten into you?” she hissed. “Sit down this instant.”

  Anne sat on the chair but did not change her mulish expression. “We’ve sold the Academy, the beach house, and the apartment in Zurich. Why would you buy this palace?”

  Her mother slid her sunglasses down her nose. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that. You were the one who wanted to stay. You practically begged me, so I found us a place to stay in Merrywood.”

  “Mom, I meant something more… reasonable.” She waved a hand toward the pool. “This is garish. A house meant for twenty people, not two. We don’t need this house. It’s just you and me. Papi doesn’t want to live in the United States, and Mary hates it here. Why would we need three floors, twelve bedrooms, and all this?”

  “There are such things as standards, Anne. We’re Escobars and Pacheco women. Your father wouldn’t want us in a hovel.”

  She groaned. Why did everything have to be so all or nothing?

  “Mi’ja, why are you being so unreasonable? Don’t you want to stay?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Don’t you want your mother to be happy?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So I’ve done everything you wanted. I was happy in Europe, but I threw it away so you could have a house in California and attend Stanford after graduation and find your dream. Maybe you can be the first Escobar in space!”

  Anne listened to her mother drone on, throwing out impossible visions of her future.

  “Tea, honey?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at pink Pat, who handed her a cup. She took it… and then hated herself a little for it.

  * * *

  Anne wandered aimlessly around campus. Lizzie was waiting for her back in the room, and Anne knew just what she’d say once she found out how Anne had folded. Her texts had become increasingly aggressive, and the more Anne ignored them, the faster they came.

  Call me.

  Are you getting these?

  OMG you have to call me.

  No joke. It’s craziness over here.

  I can’t even. You are going to freak.

  Lizzie would tell Anne to grow a spine, to toughen up. Like it was easy to overcome nearly two decades of habit. It was on days like this that she wondered what Lizzie even saw in her as a friend. Lizzie was fearless. Emma and Kat were, too. Fanny and Ellie seemed quiet, but dug in their heels and were tough when pushed.

  Whereas Anne felt like a pushover.

  She took a deep breath. The days were growing longer and longer as summer approached, and the sun was barely setting even though dinner was long past. She didn’t have an appetite and walked farther from the Academy, up the hill and over.

&nb
sp; Where a large crowd had gathered.

  Her heart beat faster. Was something wrong? Had Lizzie staged another protest? Was that why she was texting? Anne ran toward the group and noticed everyone was facing in the same direction down the hill. A few were standing up on their toes.

  She reached the last row of them, but couldn’t see what they were looking at.

  “It’s impossible,” one of them murmured.

  She felt Rick to her left. She wasn’t sure how he had managed to sneak up on her, but he stood there, hands in his pockets. “Do you need help to see the view?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he hoisted his hands under her arms and lifted her in one swift move to sit on his shoulder. She sucked in a breath and grabbed his shoulder with her right hand, while her left drifted out for balance. She wondered if she was heavy, if she smelled nice—she had just been walking—and what he was thinking. His hand wrapped around her legs, and his palm sprawled across her thigh to keep her anchored to his shoulder. He stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious that she was perched on him like a bird.

  She glanced up—and forgot all about Rick. A smile lit up her face, and her fingers flew to her lips in wonder.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Rick said.

  She glanced down just as he looked up, and they shared a grin. Then she looked back at the strange sight.

  Or rather, the lack of a sight.

  The Academy track was a large, oval grass field with metal bleachers lining both sides and floodlights as tall as buildings that lit up the field for night events.

  Only it was all gone. The metal bleachers were missing. The floodlights were missing, right down to the tall poles. Even the track itself—the oval grass field and the tan running track that circled it—had been dug up so that nothing remained but overturned clumps of dirt.

  Fanny had done it. She had red-posted the track.

  Suddenly Lizzie’s texts took on another meaning.

  “Tran, huh?” Rick asked as he set her back down on the grass.

  Anne self-consciously pulled at her shirt, which had ridden up a little on her back. “Fanny and Tran. Fanny’s idea.”

  Rick’s grin turned into a chuckle. He nodded slowly to himself, and she recognized grudging respect in his eyes. “Fanny’s in a class of her own,” he said to himself.

  Great—now Anne felt jealous of her own friend. She could never expect Rick to look at her like that, not as long as she couldn’t speak up for herself.

  “I’m heading back to check on Lucy,” Rick said. “Do you want to join me?”

  Her phone buzzed again, and she was grateful she could wave it at him with Lizzie’s text message and claim she had plans.

  Chapter Seven

  Senior Shut In was a Jane Austen Academy tradition that had begun in the 1960s. The day before graduation, all the seniors were herded into the auditorium dressed in nightgowns, pillows in hand. They’d stay up all night talking, laughing, and singing. When dawn arrived, those who had fallen asleep roused themselves, and everyone sleepily drove to breakfast before preparing for their parents’ arrival and the afternoon graduation ceremony that took place in the quad.

  Today’s Senior Shut In was scheduled for the night before prom, since the auditorium would then be prepared for demolition and would be unavailable for use before their official graduation day. The students had been promised the stage and audio system, as well as access to the auditorium-style seats.

  Everyone was excited for Senior Shut In. Especially Anne’s friends.

  The only problem being… none of them were seniors. Tran and Knight were, though, and had brought Fanny and Emma into the auditorium as their dates, leaving Anne, Lizzie, and Ellie watching from the shrubbery as seniors filtered in through the front door.

  “Are you sure we should be doing this?” Ellie asked.

  “We’re not the only ones.” Lizzie pointed to another group of girls—sophomores, by the look of them—who were hiding in another clump of bushes. The auditorium had two access points—one from the interior of the school, which they had already noted was heavily guarded by teachers, and one from the exterior of the school by the box office. Apparently anyone with half a brain had decided to target the latter. “Everyone feels robbed that they won’t get a Senior Shut In. I bet the whole school is sneaking in tonight.”

  Anne glanced down self-consciously at her pajamas. Emma had insisted that no one was expected to actually show up with pimple cream, messy flyaway ponytails, and sweatpants. She had lent Anne a pink V-neck top to match pink flannel pajama bottoms with feet and a print of neon penguins wearing sunglasses all over them. Emma had dressed Ellie in dolphins and Lizzie in doves.

  “We should go now, so we’re first.” Lizzie gestured for them to follow her.

  “Shouldn’t we go second, so that if they’re caught, we can sneak in past them?” Ellie asked.

  “Too late for that logic,” Lizzie hissed, and took off. Crouching, they ran from the shrubs to the theater box office, then flattened themselves against the wall until they reached the emergency exit. As promised, Emma had propped it open for them with a rock earlier in the evening. Lizzie opened the door and kicked the rock away as they slipped inside.

  They could hear muted pop music from their hiding spot in the emergency stairwell. They ran up the short set of metal stairs, which clanged under their weight. When they got to the door at the top, Lizzie twisted the handle, but the door didn’t budge.

  Anne tried it. Ellie, too. They all had their turns banging their shoulders into the door.

  “Why didn’t she leave this door open, too?” Lizzie pulled her phone from her fuzzy pajama pocket. Before she could dial, the door opened.

  Anne backed up against the rail as Headmistress Berg ran a cool gaze over the three of them. Her red hair was twisted into a tight knot that stretched the corners of her eyes back.

  “We were just—”

  Berg silenced Lizzie with two fingers, pointed upward. “Not now, Miss Egmont.”

  “It was my idea,” Lizzie said. “Don’t blame them.”

  Ellie and Anne both began to protest, but Lizzie whipped her head around to hush them. Anne knew Lizzie was doing it because she loved them, but Lizzie also loved being a martyr where Headmistress Berg was concerned.

  The headmistress was also dressed in her pajamas—white silk long pants and a long-sleeved shirt with tortoiseshell buttons, which, given her usual wardrobe, managed to make her look normal. Her eyebrows pinched together over her stern nose. “I have just one thing to say to you.”

  Anne winced, waiting for the inevitable tirade from the headmistress. She cataloged the ways Berg could punish them. Not letting them go to prom? Maybe not letting them walk at graduation?

  Headmistress Berg swung the door open all the way. “Have a nice time, ladies.”

  “Huh?” Ellie said.

  “Don’t question it.” Lizzie grabbed them both by the shoulders and pushed them in front of her. “Thanks, Berg.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Headmistress Berg said. “I mean it. Really. Don’t mention it. Ever.”

  “You got a deal.”

  Anne managed to walk another hundred feet before freaking out. “Did that just happen?”

  “You know,” Ellie said speculatively, “Emma always suspected she was really nice.”

  “And Emma’s always right,” the three girls parroted.

  * * *

  The stage was packed from one end to the other. There was barely room to walk because sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets lay side by side with hardly an inch between them. The Shut In rule was that the entire auditorium was only allowed to use one set of speakers, and everyone could request one song off a playlist for the night. If everyone in the Academy had managed to squeeze into the auditorium, they wouldn’t get through a tenth of the songs.

  Anne waved at Emma, who had managed to get a primo spot in the center of the chaos. They made their way around their peers, stopping every few feet to chat
or hug someone. They turned down invitations to join card games and scary campfire stories told around the fake fireplace setting.

  Emma squealed when they joined her, stamping her feet as she hugged her friends. Her pajamas had unicorns, which didn’t surprise Anne one bit. Fanny, somehow, had gotten away with just wearing a tank top and sweatpants. She was sitting between Tran’s bent knees while he massaged her neck.

  Anne looked away, a little embarrassed by their intimacy.

  “Where’s Dante?” Lizzie asked, craning her neck for any sign of her boyfriend, who was also supposed to sneak in with Ellie’s boyfriend, Edward. Only Kat and Henry were missing out on the night due to some audition that Kat had to fly down to Los Angeles for.

  “You beat the guys here,” Emma said. “Good for you.”

  They laid down their pillows and piled on top, talking and laughing about Fanny’s red-post.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fanny said innocently.

  “Plausible deniability,” Tran said. “We’re doing you a favor.”

  Anne shifted onto her side. Even with the pillows and sleeping bags, the cold stage floor was hard under her shoulder and hipbone.

  Dante and Edward arrived, breaking up the group for a moment as the couples paired off and wrapped around each other.

  Anne turned and faced the rest of the auditorium, trying to ignore the whispers, giggles, and soft sounds of the sleeping bags behind her. At least Rick wasn’t here. Although that probably meant he was with Lucy.

  Which was worse, she didn’t know.

  No, she knew. Rick’s being with Lucy was worse than his being here alone. Rick’s being with anyone was worse than anything. Which meant her life would just keep getting worse, because Rick would always be with someone who wasn’t her.

  Anne had become accustomed to accepting certain realities about her life. She and her sister were never going to be bosom buddies, no matter how much she wished for a best friend in Mary. She and her mother were never going to have the kind of relationship that people swore was more of a friendship. She was never going to go down in the annals of history with the rest of her Escobar ancestors—but she was going to find a way to be a vet, so that was okay. But somehow, this reality, this acceptance that Rick would love another, hurt her most of all.