Chapter 6
THE NEXT DAY, AFTER BLOWING GLASS IN Brooklyn, I tried to nod off on the train back to Connecticut.
My class had been five hours; half of it was spent watching my instructor demonstrate blowing the foot of a goblet, and the latter half was dedicated to copying him.
My usual partner had been sick, so I’d worked with our TA.
Goblet making was not easy, and our conversation only made things worse. “I believe congratulations are in order,” Vin had said during a flash in the furnace. He was somehow managing glassblowing and a PhD program at Columbia, which sounded wild to me.
“For what?” I’d asked.
“Blue Ridge!” my TA answered. “What else?” He broke into a smile. “Nico told me, and it’s really incredible, Audrey. I’ve applied to that fellowship three times…”
I managed to say thank you, but each one of his words felt like a cut. Even if my parents called me tomorrow with a change of heart, the Blue Ridge ship would’ve already set sail without me. Because at midnight tonight, tuition for the fellowship was due.
A lump formed in my throat seconds before I felt my iPhone buzz in my backpack. Please leave your name and number, I thought, but ended up fumbling for the phone in case it was my parents. They’d texted me after their plane had landed but we hadn’t spoken yet.
Instead of my mom and dad, my cousin’s name popped up on the screen.
What’s he calling about? I wondered, since James was mostly a texter. Blinking to wake myself up, I tapped to answer. “Hi, James.”
“Hey,” he said, upbeat. “I’m just checking in. How are you?”
“How thoughtful,” I said, because my cousin appreciated a healthy dose of sarcasm. “I’m good—I’m on the way home from Brooklyn.”
“Right.” I could almost see him nod. “You had class from nine to two.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s on the schedule Aunt Monica emailed me last week.”
“Of course.” I sighed, because of course. It was so on-brand for my mom. “Tell me, what are my plans for this afternoon?”
“A few chores, but otherwise you’re wide open…” James trailed off. “Have you driven the Spider yet?”
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know how to drive stick.”
My cousin was quiet, then said: “Do you think it might be worth learning? To pull off the ‘old man’s car’ bit?”
The old man’s car bit.
It was ironic that James was the cousin my parents had asked to come stay with me; he was polite, charming, and seemingly responsible but also never ran out of stories about his shenanigans.
In high school, he’d pulled so many pranks and skipped class so many times that the principal encouraged him not to come back to visit after graduating last year.
Maybe my mom and dad thought college had changed him?
“Driving the Spider would be more of a chore than a joyride,” I told him. “My dad did ask me to take it out for a spin. It’s just been sitting in the garage.”
“Mmm,” James hummed. “Bummer.”
“Are you on the train, too?” I asked when I overheard someone ask James if the seat next to him was taken.
“Yes, I’m staring wistfully out the window,” he answered. “Isa still has finals, so I’m making a pit stop at Brown before heading to your place on Sunday.”
Isa was James’s girlfriend, and the most has-her-shit-together person on the planet. Opposites attract, I guess.
“Sounds good,” I said, then closed my eyes, bit my lip, and asked if he had any advice for throwing a party.
“You’re throwing a party?” James sounded both bemused and delighted.
“Well, actually, a small gathering,” I corrected him, stomach swishing.
Was I about to make a huge mistake?
My cousin laughed. “Don’t give anyone the gate code,” he said. “Buzz them in yourself. Otherwise, attendance is going to multiply.”
I nodded. Henry and Griff knew the gate code, but I could trust Henry to keep it a secret. Ellie too, if I told her. I’d probably need to talk to Griff. Per the mass Party at Jason’s house @ 9 PM! texts I’d gotten in the past, he was definitely a “mi casa es su casa” guy.
Even if it wasn’t his casa.
James offered some more pearls of party wisdom—always include “Mr. Brightside” on the playlist, dilute vodka with water, lock every door except the bathroom so people stay in common areas—and we signed off when my train pulled into the station. “Thanks for the tips,” I said. “Say hi to Isa for me.”
“Will do,” he replied. “Text me if you need anything.” Pause. “Or don’t.”
“Okay.” I had no idea what that meant. “See you soon.”
“But will you?” James asked coyly.
“Yes,” I said. “It says so on my mom’s agenda.”
“That it does.” A laugh. “Bye, Audrey.”
“Bye, James.”
I PULLED UP TO HENRY’S HOUSE BEFORE GOING home. His Highlander was diagonally parked in the center of the driveway, blocking in both his mom’s and stepmother’s cars. “Yikes,” I muttered, and even though no one was around to hear me, I whistled for emphasis.
“Audrey, hello!” Charlotte, Henry’s mom, greeted me when I slipped in through the kitchen door.
There was flour, sugar, and brown-speckled banana peels on the counter, and she was pouring chocolate chips into her blue KitchenAid mixer.
A sweet pang hit my stomach—Charlotte made the best chocolate chip banana bread.
“Hi, Charlotte.” I smiled. “Did you see your son’s parking violation?”
She sighed. “No…”
“But I did!” Tess said, waving a piece of paper around as she breezed out of her wife’s office.
She’d written ESSEX HARBOR P.D. over the letterhead, which actually read carriage works.
Tess Bauer specialized in restoring vintage Mercedes.
People all over New England brought their cars to her garage.
“Brilliant.” I giggled at the fake ticket, then pointed upstairs. “His room?”
Charlotte nodded. “Someone spilled a carafe of guava juice on him, so he’s showering.”
“Naturally,” I said. A Constellation Catering brunch was never complete without our signature mimosa bar. I wondered who was responsible for the party foul.
“Keep the door open!” Charlotte called once I was halfway up the stairs, and I stumbled even though she meant it all in good fun. Henry hadn’t told his parents about our scheme yet, but if we grew more serious, I knew he would. He never kept things from them.
What are they going to think? I thought, a little anxiously. That we’re total idiots?
I continued climbing the stairs.
Henry’s room was painted navy blue, which somehow made the space feel cozy instead of dark, and he had long, low bookcases up against the walls.
They were filled with books and topped with various mementos and pictures—everything from a cool weathered brass clock to his Marshall Bluetooth speaker to a framed photo of him and Ellie at JProm last year.
She’d styled her pink hair in a classic chignon, and Henry was softly smiling as he twirled a tendril around his finger. I’d gag if I didn’t know them.
For Henry’s own good, I thought about putting the frame face down, but the picture was collecting dust. Perhaps it was a sign that Henry didn’t pay it much attention.
The corners of my mouth turned up when I glanced at his desk; on it were both an LSAT prep book and a stack of People magazines.
They suggested that Henry’s internal battle between entertainment lawyer and hotshot Hollywood agent was still raging.
“But you never know,” I’d once overheard Ellie say to Henry, “you might get to college and realize you want to go to med school.”
Does she not know about his delicate constitution? I’d wondered. He vomited after helping me with a minor hot shop burn!
The People issues were held in place by one of Golightly Glass’s extremely limited-edition black diamond paperweights.
I’d only blown one, an experiment gone horribly wrong.
The paperweight was a glimmering ebony, but it didn’t resemble a diamond at all.
“It’ll still do the job,” Henry had said before pocketing it.
I was skimming the most recent magazine’s “One Last Thing” interview with Selena Gomez when I heard a knock on the doorframe. My eyes snapped up to see Henry in the doorway in a striped bathrobe, wet hair standing on end. “How was work?” I asked, as if nothing about this were odd. “Fruity?”
Henry caught my drift and casually settled on the edge of his bed. “Jared has no spatial awareness,” he responded, then added, “He also wants to come tonight.” He took a breath. “Griff invited—”
I cut him off. “Please don’t tell me he invited every constellation in the sky.”
Henry shook his head. “Just the newbies. Kenzie, Mia, and Jared.”
“Okay.” I dug my phone out of my pocket after doing a mental tally of how many guests I’d be welcoming later. With the addition of cater-waiters, I’d hit my small-gathering max.
Hey, I quickly texted Griff. We’ve got a baker’s dozen for tonight! All set.
Really? he replied. 12 people’s nothing…
I stifled a grin, then typed: I really want the 13 of us to hang out. If I invite more, we might not even see each other!
Fair, he said. Especially in your mansion.
I haha’d his text. See you tonight, Griff.
He replied with some emojis: fire, a confetti canon, a salsa dancer, a volleyball, and a winky face.
This will be good, I told myself, despite feeling something in my chest clench. You won’t be alone when the clock strikes midnight and your dream slips through your fingers…
I locked my phone and looked up to see Henry had shed his robe. He wore pajama bottoms, but his chest was bare. I spotted a scar on his collarbone, which I knew was from a childhood trampoline accident.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not picture Henry on a trampoline.
“Everything sorted?” he asked, making me blink. He started running a comb through his hair.
I nodded. “Are you ready?”
He put the comb down. “For what?”
I grinned. “Party prep.”
MY MOM CALLED AT THE WORST POSSIBLE TIME that night. “Bonsoir, sweetheart,” she said when I was expecting the doorbell to ring. “How are you?”
Fine, I thought. Can we talk about Blue Ridge again?