Page 65 of Perfect on Paper

“Nothing.” She grinned and walked off, clasping her hands together behind her back. “Have so much fun hanging around here talking toonly your momfor the next hour.”

“You’re reading into it,” I called out after her, and her laugh echoed in the emptying halls.

I rolled my eyes and headed through the hallways to Mom’s classroom. It was empty, which either meant that today’s last class had been exceptionally tidy, or, more likely, that she’d gotten annoyed with them and forced them to stay back for a few minutes and clean it up at the end of class as punishment.

So I wandered upstairs, through the teacher’s lounge—where I paused to greet Sandy (Ms. Brouderie), Bill (Mr.Tennyson), and a teacher whose name I couldn’t remember (but who clearly knew me)—to reach Mom’s office.

She was surrounded by messy stacks of papers and typing away at her laptop on a long bench-desk that accommodated three other teachers. None of them were here, though.

Above her desk, Mom’s bulletin board was covered, as usual, with sticky notes and photos of Ainsley and me, along with a few group photos of her with teachers or students at events like prom or field trips. One of the newer additions to the board was a to-do list, on which I spotted my name.

“Darcy’s birthday,” I read out loud.

“Surprise,”Mom joked as she paused typing. “What would you like this year? Big party or big present?”

That had been the rule for Ainsley and me for as long as I could remember. A big party usually meant a group gathering at a venue, maybe at home, with food provided for everyone, as well as stuff for us to do. If we chose that option, we still got a present, but it was something a bit more modest. Or, we could choose for our parents to splurge on a present, and the celebration itself would be more along the lines of a store-bought cake with candles at the kitchen counter, along with pizza or Indian food or something. Unluckily for us, having divorced parents hadn’t resulted in twice the presents on birthdays and Christmas. Our parents managed to put aside their differences twice a year to collaborate on this.

“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said.

“Well, it’s only three weeks away now. You’ve gotta give us some warning.”

“Can I let you know in a couple of days?”

“Sure thing.”

She was obviously distracted by whatever email she wasreplying to, so I took the opportunity to head back down to the locker. Once I was sure there was nobody around I retrieved the letters and let myself into an empty classroom, locked the door, and sat against the wall so I wouldn’t be caught while I went through them.

The first couple of letters were standard.

The third one was unusual. It had fifty dollars in it.

I opened it, frowning. I’d had more than one letter with no money in it, sent by someone who, for whatever reason, couldn’t afford the ten dollars. And, of course, in situations like that I was happy to waive the fee. I of all people understood the feeling of needing help but not having the means to pay for the service. But I’d never seen a tip likethisbefore.

Dear Darcy,

Even though we’ve been working together for a while now, it’s the first time I’ve put in an actual letter. I figured I should probably try to follow the rules for once.

Yesterday, my ex-girlfriend texted me out of the blue. Then long story short we spent the evening together, and I think she wants to give us another shot. So, basically, no matter where it goes from here, I think we can count this one toward your 95% success rate. And I did promise the other half when it worked out, remember?

From,

Me

I stared at the letter, and shoved the remaining unopened ones in my backpack. I stood up to leave, then rememberedas an afterthought that I shouldn’t be carryinganyletters around in my hands, so I stuffed this one in the backpack on top of the others. Then I walked straight to the pool, my stomping feet thudding on the floor.

Aletter? That’s how he let me know? Aletter?Where was the celebration? The “thank you so much, Darcy”? The “we did it, yay”?

Thankfully, Brougham was the only one in the pool today, so I didn’t need to worry about subtlety.

“Um, hi,” I called out, competing with the splashing and the hum of the pool heaters.

For once he heard me the first time. Brougham stopped mid-stroke and bobbed in the water, pushing his hair out of his face. “Hi. You got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I said, hovering by the pool’s edge. My voice came out funny. I didn’t know if I was angry at him, per se, or even fully hurt. It was just a little weird. It was a weird way to let me know. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“No, I know,” he said. “I asked her where this was all coming from, and she reckons nothing happened. She just missed me, apparently.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat to get rid of the funny tone. I didn’t want to ruin Brougham’s moment over a petty annoyance about his news delivery method. “Good of her to finally see the light!”

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