CHAPTER 6
Every Wednesday night, Jamie attended Alderton-Du Ponte’s book club, which they hosted in one of the lounges.
The book club mostly consisted of elderly women, but Jamie had joined a few years ago when he’d heard they’d been planning to read The Count of Monte Cristo, and had been a consistent member every week since.
Lately, I’d started tagging along with Jamie, despite the fact that I’d rather die than read some stuffy old-timey book.
Sometimes staying at home, knowing Dad was only walls away, was worse.
Instead, I usually took up residence in one of the plush chairs in ADP’s lobby or at a table in the computer center, working on any homework from school.
The computer lab was where I was today, copying notes from my World History textbook, while Mr. ASMR played in the background.
In the video I watched, he was studying at what looked like a college library, set up in front of a window.
Carter’s materials were spread out around him, and, like always, his face was perfectly out of view.
It was strange to watch his videos knowing who he was now and how I could see bits of Carter in the study sessions.
The way his fingers shakily turned a page, or idly tapped on the table.
The soft ambient sounds of the quiet hum of his location filled my brain, keeping me focused.
Focused, aside from the ongoing text convo I was having with Daisy.
My phone, face-up on the table, buzzed.
Daisy
Junie wants pasta, Penn wants pizza, and Theo wants spring rolls. Spring. Rolls. What kind of six-year-old wants SPRING ROLLS???
One with taste.
Daisy
we don’t even have spring rolls. I swear I’ve never fed this kid spring rolls in his life.
Maybe your mom??
Daisy
as if.
Daisy was the primary caretaker of her four siblings, since their mom was the breadwinner.
She worked some fancy corporate job in the city, which meant she had to take the two-hour train to and from work each day.
After Daisy’s Dad died in the eighth grade, Daisy said she’d hoped her mom would get a job closer.
She hadn’t. Instead, Daisy had to step up.
I hadn’t met Daisy until after her dad passed, so I never knew what her life looked like before. She was definitely suited to be a good mother figure. The kind of older sister I wished I’d had.
Daisy
soooo, have you and Carter picked the next time you’re meeting up??
I stared at the keyboard on my phone. Yesterday, after Beck left the coffee shop, my head had cleared.
We’d talked a bit more about college, and then Jamie’s future plans, and then Carter’s college life—UConn, with a major in business.
The conversation had flowed easily, not broaching anything too serious, and it’d been nice.
And after Beck had left, it was like he’d disappeared from my mind.
Didn’t you listen? I said I’d remind you what it’s like to really want someone.
“Knock, knock.”
Lydia stood in the computer lab doorway, grinning.
She wasn’t wearing any workout gear, which meant she hadn’t stopped by the gym, and she didn’t have a book in her hand, which meant she wasn’t here for book club.
Not that I would’ve thought that Lydia would’ve been a part of book club, but there was no reason for her presence.
Which put me on edge. I still smiled, giving away nothing. “Hey.”
I didn’t realize Lydia had been intentionally hiding her hand behind the wall until she brought it out, gripping a hot to-go cup.
“I brought you a little surprise,” she said cheerfully, bringing it past the No Food or Drink Allowed sign.
“A caramel latte. You like those, don’t you?
I remember you ordering them all the time. ”
I did not order them all the time. I had no idea who she was confusing me with. S-U-S-P-I-C-I-O-U-S. “Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” I said lightly, watching as she set it down on the tabletop in front of me. “What are you doing at ADP?”
“My mom came to book club tonight,” she said, settling into a desk chair beside me. She gave her eyes a theatrical roll. “She’s trying to broaden her interests. I was wandering around, bored out of my mind, until I remembered you usually tag along with Jamie.”
“You didn’t get a drink?”
“Coffee this late would keep me up all night. That’s the problem about being so petite—caffeine hits me so hard.”
My phone buzzed on the table, drawing Lydia’s gaze to it.
She folded one leg over the other, kicking her foot in an almost impatient movement. I watched steam rise from the small hole in the to-go cup, waiting for her to broach the subject she actually came for.
It finally came. “Texting a certain Pembleton?”
I nearly chuckled at her predictability. “I don’t have his number,” I said, and even though the words were true, the insinuation was a lie. No, I didn’t have his phone number, but yes, we did DM on Instagram. “It’s just Daisy.”
“You went out with him last night, didn’t you?”
I wondered how word had spread so easily, and then remembered how Beck had ducked his head toward hers at Senior Night. Beck’s presence in her Instagram carousel. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, come on. Don’t leave me in suspense. Tell me everything.”
“We went to Crushed Beanz to listen to their poetry night.”
Lydia waited. “And?”
“And?”
“Are you being secretive on purpose?” Some of the friendliness ebbed from her expression. “You know, not everything needs to be a competition.”
I fought the urge to scoff. “I’m not competing with you.” You’re the one competing with me. You always have been. “It’s just personal, that’s all.”
“Personal,” she echoed, and I looked at her carefully. She wasn’t very good at manipulation, not if she was trying to be sneaky about it. I could practically read the thoughts on her face. “Be honest—you knew Carter before Senior Night, didn’t you? That wasn’t your first time meeting him.”
I glanced at my phone. “It was, though.” Technically.
“Well, it wasn’t mine.” She lifted her chin high. “I’ve met him before, through our parents. His mother loves me.”
Carter’s mother. No mention of Dr. Pembleton. “That’s great—”
“If you lay off now, I’ll play nice.” Despite the threat, Lydia gave a light smile. “Tell him you’re not interested, and we can go back to being friends.”
Lydia had never been so outwardly offensive before, which meant she felt backed into a corner. Threatened. Over the thought of losing whatever dibs she thought she had on Carter Pembleton. “You can appeal to Dr. Pembleton’s good graces without dating his son.”
Lydia’s expression screwed up. “Is that why you think I’m interested in Carter?” And then, as a light dawned, her features smoothed out. “Is that why you are?”
C-R-A-P. “Of course not,” I answered easily, grappling for a strategy for this conversation. “Considering how close you’ve been with Beck since he’s been back, I figured you had feelings for him, that’s all.”
Once again, Lydia’s forehead wrinkled. “Beck?”
I thought about how she’d so easily slid into Beck’s lap the other day at the pickleball court, her arm propped against his shoulder. The two of them had looked so natural, as if they’d done it a million times before. “You two seem closer than I remember you being.”
“We weren’t close at all before. No one liked him at all when we were kids. Only you.”
I became very aware of the echo of my heartbeat in my ears.
You don’t like me, Beck had said all those years ago in the garden, voice hard. No one does.
Lydia watched me closer, and I suddenly regretted saying anything. I’d walked my rook out onto a square that her pawn could capture. “That day in the garden.” Her voice lowered, her lips curling. “My mom wouldn’t tell me much about it, but she said she found you two.”
Time cranked backwards, like the wind-up of a music box, before the memory hit me in full force. The dark garden. The stars in the sky. Beck’s hand on mine, light, then tight. Then different hands on my arms, drawing me away.
It’d been Mrs. Johnson who’d found the garden burning, who’d found us in it. Who’d gripped my arm hard enough that it’d bruised. I thought you were better than your sister.
I’d always wondered how much Mrs. Johnson had told her daughter. I’d always wondered if she’d told Lydia the truth.
But apparently not. “Was it scary?”
I swallowed against my dry throat. “Scary?”
“Watching Beck have a full-on mental breakdown?” Lydia rested her chin in her upturned palm, eyes gleaming.
“My mom said the garden was totally destroyed. The flowerbeds, the bushes. That he looked like a maniac, all covered in dirt. And you were there for it all, weren’t you? He, like, held you hostage, right?”
“Held me hostage? This isn’t some TV show.” I stared into her pretty blue eyes, spelling the word over and over in my head until it no longer made sense. M-A-N-I-A-C. “And besides. If you thought Beck was truly dangerous, you wouldn’t be sitting in his lap.”
“Sometimes playing with fire is fun, don’t you think?” She smirked a little at that, a true, mocking smile.
She knew. Maybe not everything, but she knew more about the fire than anyone else did. That was her threat. She knew who had really lit the match.
“Circling back to the issue.” Lydia stood, smoothing her hands down her jeans. “I’m politely asking you to let Carter down easy.”
Of course nothing could ever be simple. I couldn’t just befriend Carter-slash-Mr. ASMR, have him introduce me to Dr. Pembleton, and be one of the first freshmen to get on his mentorship list. Of course Lydia would have to get in the way here, too.
“If you’ve got such solid connections with the Pembletons, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. ”
Her smile was more of a sneer, but she said nothing else.
Jamie’s book club wrapped up ten minutes later, and after I collected my homework—and threw the hot drink in the trash outside the computer lab without having a sip—we left Alderton-Du Ponte.