17. Sadie
SADIE
ONE MONTH BEFORE THE PARTY
God, that movie is gorgeous. It might not even be fair to say I like Shakespeare.
Maybe I just like Baz Luhrmann’s version of the play.
But either way, after I saw that movie, I became hell-bent on this idea of finding that kind of love.
The kind that you’d be willing to die for after just three days together.
I know, I know. That story is fiction, and even if it wasn’t, it is not exactly a shining example of healthy relationships. But I’m a romantic. Sue me.
For a while, it seemed like I was actually heading for the opposite of a Shakespearean tragedy—my very own fairy-tale ending.
After all, by sophomore year of high school, I was dating Ben.
Ben Carrera. I might not have been willing to drink poison or run a sword through myself for him, but we really had something together.
And everyone was so jealous—even Jayne was impressed, and she was usually smart enough to avoid falling into the trap of caring about high school social climbing.
“It’s just… We’re twins,” she said to me once, while we were getting ready for a dance together and Ben was waiting downstairs. “What do you have that I don’t?!”
“Well, for starters,” I said, “I’ve got Ben Carrera. And better hair.”
“You liar!” she said with a laugh. “You do not!”
Jayne can believe what she wants. We might be identical, but my hair is definitely better.
The tricky thing is that somewhere along the line, even with Ben’s arm slung around my shoulder and all our friends laughing at whatever our latest story was—because we always had stories—something just felt off.
And that’s how it started with Mason Vreeland. I thought Ben was my Romeo, but it turned out he was just my Paris. And just like Juliet, meeting Romeo has turned my entire life upside down.
It should never have even turned into anything, me and Mason.
I’d known him since we were kids, and he was always the quiet kind of guy.
I didn’t have anything against him; I just didn’t know him, and I got the sense that no one really did.
I think I might have teased him a little in junior high.
I don’t remember, but he claims I did. God, I was such a brat.
Luckily, he says it was never anything really bad.
By the time senior year of high school rolled around, he had definitely transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan, but that didn’t change his social behavior.
It was strange to have a guy walking around who looked like he could be a movie star but somehow repelled attention and all the trappings of the popularity that should have been his.
But then we both decided to take third-period photography during first semester this year.
I’ve already applied early decision to Loyola in Chicago, and considering that both of my parents are alums, I’m feeling pretty good about it.
It’s been three years of hard work, and all I want is to take a breath and enjoy a class where getting an A is as easy as showing up and arguing that whatever you decide to take a picture of is actually art.
It was supposed to be a throwaway class.
My parents don’t even know I’m taking the class—they object to anything that doesn’t have what my dad would call “real-world application.” I have a hunch he was just saying that to me because photography has always been Jayne’s thing.
She’s in the club and everything, and she’s had an interest in it since we were kids and she became obsessed with old movies and Hollywood glamour shots.
My dad has always been more likely to speak up for my sister than for me, a fact that I’ve gotten so good at ignoring that it could practically escape my notice for real.
It’s been that way for a long time—my dad and Jayne, my mom and me.
I couldn’t tell you why, but I feel like that probably happens in most families with two kids.
Each parent is just naturally closer to the kid who seems more like them.
I’ve always kind of thought that having kids is super egotistical, and my own family dynamics are doing a pretty good job of supporting the theory. But I digress.
The bottom line is that I just didn’t mention it. Photography class, I mean. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.
Maybe that’s how Juliet felt the night she met Romeo.
I was late to class on the first day. It sounds stupid, but I didn’t realize until the bell rang that I had no idea where the photography room was.
Our school is pretty big, and there’s an old basement that they converted into classrooms where I have literally never been before.
Turns out, that’s also where the photography lab happens to be.
After about seven wrong turns, I finally burst into the classroom.
“Sorry,” I muttered, scanning the room for an empty seat at the two-person tables. Did this place used to be a chemistry lab? Why was there a sink at the front of the room where the teacher was standing?
The only seat left was next to a guy who looked vaguely familiar to me, and I sat down as fast as I could, clattering my bag to the floor.
I might’ve only been taking this for the A, but I’m still not the kind of girl who likes to be late.
Another difference between me and Jayne—she can’t be bothered to show up to anything on time to save her life.
She just happens to be brilliant enough that no one ever cares.
The straight A’s that take me hours of studying to achieve seem to just come naturally to her.
“Sorry,” I repeated, this time more quietly, to my new seatmate.
He looked at me and smiled. “For what?” he asked, clearly amused. “You’re good, Red.”
I opened my mouth again to chastise him for the nickname, an annoying nod to my hair that was as eye-roll-inducing as it was unoriginal, but then our eyes met, and he smiled again. Like, actually smiled.
You know how it feels when someone smiles at you, and you know that they’re not just doing it to be polite? It’s not the kind of smile that they just toss out to a barista, or a cashier, or even their friends. It’s a smile for you.
I felt myself blush. He was cute, but I got the sense that he either didn’t know it or didn’t care. Not like Ben. Ben cared desperately.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Sadie, right?” he asked, holding out a hand. Honestly, who shakes hands in high school?
“Yeah,” I replied. “Um—”
“Mason,” he said, saving me the embarrassment of having to admit that he obviously knew me, but I didn’t know him.
“Right, of course. Hi.”
“Hi.”
He smiled again.
And I knew at that moment that I was in deep trouble.
Mason and I didn’t talk for the rest of class—it was class, after all, and the teacher was preaching to us about the value of physical film in the digital age.
But to be honest, if you wanted the specifics of that lecture, I couldn’t give them to you.
Every single inch of my body was extremely aware that I was sitting next to Mason.
God, I couldn’t even remember his last name.
It started with a V… Was it “Vaughan,” maybe?
All I knew was that my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and it took every ounce of focus I had to keep my cool and look like a normal human being.
I think Mason could tell. And he was enjoying it.
Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, just the immediate chemistry with someone. Ben was hot, obviously, and we had a really good thing going, but there was nothing… I don’t know, elemental about it. Sitting next to Mason was different.
Girl. Get yourself together. My inner voice was firm, and it was right. This was ridiculous. And anyway, it wasn’t even really worth thinking about. I sat down next to Mason because it was the only seat left and because I was late. Next class I just wouldn’t be late. Easy.
I could forget all about the way he was making my pulse race and the way he smelled like pine and something musky that was definitely a welcome break from the cheap body spray that seemed to hang permanently in the air of the hallways.
When the bell rang, I sprang out of my seat like someone had shocked me.
I grabbed my bag and wasn’t even planning to say goodbye to Mason (after all, we were seatmates for one period—that was hardly the formal start of even the most casual friendship, was it?).
But he put a hand lightly on my arm as I was leaving.
“Hey,” he said, and I tried to act like his skin touching my skin hadn’t just lit my entire body on fire.
“Yeah?” I replied, failing to sound annoyed and instead just sounding out of breath. God, could I have any less chill?
“If you need help finding the place before next class, I’ll be at the top of the stairs by the cafeteria.”
That’s what he said out loud. The only thing I heard was I feel this too.
“Uh, thanks. Pretty sure I can manage now that I’ve been down here.”
Did I sound detached enough? Annoyed enough? Did my voice say, This is not happening; I have a boyfriend?
“Right,” he replied, and he moved his hand from my arm. “Of course.”
Okay, yes. So my voice actually conveyed what I’d meant to say. Or, at least, what I needed him to understand.
I wish I could say that’s where the story ended.
That I ignored Mason after that, and he ignored me, and I sailed along safely inside the perfect world I’d built for myself, with me and Ben Carrera at the center.
That would have been the smart thing to do.
After all, who throws their entire carefully constructed life away just because they got goose bumps sitting next to a cute guy in photography class?
When has that story ever worked out in the real world?
And yet. Just like Juliet, I couldn’t let it go. And just like Romeo, he couldn’t either.
Maybe if we’d done things differently, we would both still be alive.
Why is it everything is always clearer in the rearview mirror?