Chapter 1 #2
The whole first day is planned out in detail. Between ten and three, new students can register, pick up their keys, and move into their rooms. At four, the principal will hold a welcome speech in the theater, and then there’s a community dinner for everyone to get to know one another.
“Zoe, we’ll wait outside for you. Is that okay?” Dad’s voice shakes me out of my reverie, startling me. He, Mom, and Caleb stop in front of the administration building as I start to climb the stone steps.
“Sure. See you in a minute.” I don’t wait for them to answer; I just go up the steps and slip into the entryway.
Inside, it’s surprisingly cool and quiet.
All I can hear in the huge room with the high ceiling is the quiet murmuring of voices.
I walk straight toward a reception desk.
In front of the giant windows, through which I can see the back of the theater building, there’s a cozy lounge area with two sofas, round tables, and a few armchairs.
Warm sunlight casts shadows on the dark parquet floor and the high walls and on paintings of dancers in various poses.
Boys and girls are standing in separate groups, some with their parents and others without. Most of them look to be around my age. A few of them are glued to their phones, and others are talking to each other.
I get in line for the reception desk behind two girls, and ten minutes later I leave the building with my key.
“Did everything work?” Mom asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as I walk up to her.
“We have to go over there.” I point to the dormitory before I fall in next to Caleb, who’s busy with his phone, as usual.
I wait until Mom and Dad are a few steps ahead before I point at his phone with a meaningful grin. “You know, somehow I don’t think you came along just to embarrass me. You’re trying to distract yourself. Whose message are you waiting for so eagerly?”
Caleb’s face turns red, and it’s almost cute how he squirms with embarrassment. “Parker’s.”
“You’re not serious!” I cry enthusiastically. “When did you two start texting?”
“A few weeks ago.” His blush deepens.
“And you’re only telling me this now?” I glare at him in mock indignation.
“There’s nothing to tell. We text each other, that’s it.”
“But you’ve had a crush on him for months! The fact that you’re texting now is really a big deal.”
“I know, but—” he breaks off, and his expression turns uncertain. An insecurity that somehow doesn’t fit with his personality.
My brother is the most self-confident person I know.
He’s over a foot taller than me and has the stature of a quarterback, because he is one.
He plays on the Harvard football team, where he’s a sophomore, and has big plans.
He graduated from high school with honors, and after he finishes college he wants to go to Harvard Business School, get his master’s degree, and then join my mother at her cosmetics company.
He’s an impressive guy, and he knows it.
Except when it comes to Parker. Then he loses his self-assurance.
And every time I see that insecure flicker in his eyes, my heart bleeds for him.
“What are you scared of?” I ask, poking him gently.
“That he doesn’t like me?”
“That sounds like a question.”
“Zoe—”
“He likes you,” I say, interrupting him. “Definitely. It’s impossible not to like you.”
“No, it’s not,” Caleb murmurs and nervously runs both hands through his dark hair.
“But he does,” I say, glaring at him again. Caleb makes a face at me, but he still doesn’t look very convinced. I’m going to have to work on him.
“Hmm,” he says.
“Trust me about this!”
“I trust you. But I don’t trust myself.”
“Then it’s time to change that.”
“Yeah, I get it. But today is about you, so let’s focus on that, okay?”
I’m about to protest until I realize we’ve arrived at the dormitory. Dad holds the door for us as Caleb shoves me inside.
A tingle of excitement goes through me as I enter the building where I’ll be living for the next four years, and at this moment it hits me that it’s actually happening.
I’m really here, in this long sandstone building with bright walls and dark, scuffed floorboards.
There are four floors but no elevator. The dining room is on the first floor, and all the other floors have their own common rooms and bedrooms.
My room is on the top floor, the second-to-last toward the end of the hall. When I reach the door and take the key out of my pocket, I catch a glimpse of the adjoining common room.
I have to smile. And then my smile gets wider as I walk into my room.
The dark wooden floor contrasts strongly with the white walls decorated with plaster moldings.
A small entrance area, just big enough for a wardrobe, leads into a spacious room with high windows and a broad window seat.
The bed is smaller than the one I have at home, as is the wardrobe, but I still have more space than I expected.
There’s a desk and a chair, and another door right next to the room leads to my bathroom.
It’s tiny, but I have a shower, a sink, and a toilet for myself.
Thanks to the white walls and high windows, the room looks bright and friendly despite the dark parquet floor.
Although it’s practically empty aside from the few pieces of furniture, it’s very charming.
“Your room is definitely nicer than the ones we have at Harvard.” Caleb drops the suitcase noisily, and I have to laugh.
“You don’t even live on campus.”
Caleb’s been at Harvard for a year, but he only went into the dormitory once before he decided that the alternative was much nicer. He lives with his best friends in a penthouse apartment in the West End. No dorm room in the world can compete with that.
“Well, I’ve seen the dorms. And this one is much nicer.”
“It’s true, it is,” I say, happy to agree with him.
“Do you need help unpacking?” Mom asks, but I shake my head.
“Thanks, but I can manage alone.”
“You just don’t want anyone to mess up your perfect organization,” Caleb says, teasing.
“So what?” I say, wrinkling my nose in annoyance.
I like my sense of order. It’s the only thing I got from Dad. Mom and Caleb tend to be chaotic, and I don’t have the slightest idea how they ever find anything they’re looking for. For me, every little thing has its fixed place. That’s why I have to unpack my bags myself.
“Then it looks like it’s time to say goodbye,” Dad says and gives me a big hug. “Have fun, dear.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper. I suddenly have a big lump in my throat. Oh God, don’t cry, not now. If I start crying, Mom will never leave.
“Call me if you need me. Or if you don’t. You can always call me.” Mom hugs me and kisses my forehead. Her eyes are glittering with tears again. She clears her throat and strokes my hair. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Go get ’em.” Caleb wraps both arms around me from behind and lifts me up so my feet leave the floor.
“This is about ballet, not football,” I remind him, kicking his shins with my heels until he puts me down. Caleb always used to carry me around like a doll until I was old enough to defend myself.
“It doesn’t matter. Go get ’em anyway. And never forget how good you are. And how strong.” He puts me down, turns me toward him, and holds up his little finger to me. He looks serious, and I know exactly what he’s thinking about.
I feel completely calm inside, and for a moment I can only hear the rushing of blood in my ears. I catch his little finger with mine and nod. “I promise.”
Before
Zoe
One year earlier
June 25, 6:32 AM
I sneak down the stairs as quietly as I can, past the kitchen, through the living room, to the back door. I hear Dad singing out of tune along with some song from the eighties and hope he hasn’t noticed me. He hasn’t noticed me much in the last few months.
Since Jase and I started to leave notes for each other in my treehouse, I sneak out of the house every morning to check if there’s a new secret waiting for me.
My family knows nothing about it. Not even Caleb. Especially not him. I’ve considered telling him about it more than once; after all, Jase is his best friend. But probably for that exact reason, I couldn’t get the words out.
Jase is his best friend. And I’ve fallen in love with him. Not head over heels, but slowly and gradually. I’m in love with him and his secrets. His vulnerability. His openness.
He showed me a side of himself that he usually hides from everyone. I know that because I’ve known him for years. And the Jase he pretends to be is not the same person who confides his secrets to me.
In exchange, he stole my heart.
The back door squeaks almost inaudibly as I open it and step out onto the terrace. The sun still hasn’t made it over the rooftops, but the sky is clear and blue and promises a hot summer day.
The perfect last day of school. Starting tomorrow, nothing else counts for a few weeks, only ballet. I have a whole summer of extra lessons so I can prepare for my ballet school audition.
But today is Caleb’s day. For him, it really is the last day of high school ever. He graduates today at noon.
I start to feel sentimental. It will be strange to go back to school in the autumn without my brother. Without his friends. Without Jase.
I shake off the thought, because for today, they’re all still here. They’re getting their diplomas this morning, and later we’re going to celebrate their graduation, all together.
And then . . . who knows what the summer will bring?
Anything is possible.
Barefoot, I walk across the dry grass in our little garden. It tickles the bottoms of my feet, and the rungs of the treehouse ladder feel rough as I climb up and push open the door. I’ve spent more time here in the last few months than I usually do.
I can’t just hide my secrets up here for Jase to find. I have to be here when I write them down too. Anything else would feel wrong. Incomplete.
I see the note immediately. It’s sitting on the wooden crate that I brought up here a few weeks ago to store the wool blankets in for the summer. In their place, two light linen bedspreads are now folded neatly on the cushions that cover the floor.
The note is the only thing that doesn’t look tidy in my little refuge, even though I folded it nicely before I left it here for him two days ago.
He crumpled the paper into a little ball, and I have to laugh, because I know very well that he did it on purpose.
He does it because he knows that, every time, I will meticulously smooth out the note I get from him and refold it perfectly before he gets it back.
He messes up my order, and I organize his chaos. There’s a twisted kind of poetry in that.
My heart skips a beat as I reach for the ball of paper. I pause for a second, my hands trembling, tempted for a moment just to ignore the note. To not read his reply but throw the message away and never give him or his secrets another thought.
How could I ask him that question? What the hell has gotten into me?
But I know the answer already. I didn’t think about it, and at the same time I thought about it far too much. He stole my heart, and I want to know if he’s giving me at least a little piece of his. Just a tiny one.
Snap out of it and read the note already!
The voice in my head is bossy and loud, and it’s right. I have to read the note. I can’t just ignore it. I don’t want to do that.
My pulse races as I smooth out the paper and see Jase’s messy handwriting. It’s much too familiar now.
My breath catches as I read the words that are written there.
What do you see when you look at me?
Freckles. Seven of them on your nose. Eleven on the right cheek. Fifteen on the left cheek.
—J