Page 8 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
He took my hand. His hands were surprisingly callused considering those damning shoes of his. “See you tomorrow,” he said.
I sighed, shaking my head. “You don’t have to figure me out, Julian. I already told you everything you need to know about me. I’m not a puzzle. I’m just not very interesting, okay? I’m boring.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, which made me catch my breath. His hot breath on my skin for the millisecond sent shivers down my spine.Does that count? Is that my first kiss?
“You arenotboring. I’m really invested in getting to know you. I would really like it if you wanted to get to know me, too. Something’s made you think I’m not worth knowing, which makes me all the more determined to prove you wrong. A girl who wants to read in libraries? Where have you been all my life?” He stepped back and then stopped, hands tucked in his pockets. “Night.”
I stayed in the doorway, watching as he walked away. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me, and a million questions about Julian Lent battered inside my mind. Finally, I closed the door with a final click. After all, it didn’t matter. He would disappear from my life.
Everyone did, eventually.
3
Istayed up until three o’clock sketchingThe Poor Relation. She didn’t look like me, I realized, staring at the latest drawing. My small build was capped off with bright red hair that I mostly kept tied back in a braid. Her hair hung dark and wild, her dark eyes flashing the opposite of my bright green ones. She wore big glasses, but my face remained bare. In the latest panel, she blew off the richest guy in town because he wasn’t thereal deal. Her ultimate quest seemed to be some imaginaryreal dealever off somewhere in the distance.
He didn’t look like Julian, either. So far, he hadn’t made me mad enough to draw revenge panels, but if he messed up, I could fuck with him in a story. I glanced at the ever-growing pile of drawings. I approached a million followers because people loved my content. Even though I would have to celebrate the big accomplishment on my own when it happened, I was happy to be almost there anyway.
Crawling into bed, I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow. At eight a.m., my alarm screamed me awake, and I sat up before I was even fully conscious. Stumbling a little bit, I managed to make it to my bathroom without falling on my face. One of thegood things about our building was the great water pressure, so after a few minutes under the spray, I felt mostly awake.
I drank some coffee before it was time for me to be downstairs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed I looked presentable enough. What I wore to school hardly mattered—I never fit in, uniform or not. In San Francisco, we’d had them, in Chicago I had not. The only way to tell who people really were was by their shoes, which was what led to me measuring people’s character based on their footwear.But this isn’t school. I scanned the reflection again, with more attention because I wanted to make a good impression on Dina.
My old jeans were comfortable but a little big on me, so I wore a belt with them. My green tank top was better fitted, but I wasn’t giving Manhattan vibes, and I wasn’t sure if that would be a goal anyway. Most of the time, pretending to be one of them didn’t do me any good—even if I could probably fit in, if I really tried. Maybe my uncle would have liked me better if I did try to fit in more? Would it mean fewer parent teacher conferences, since he wasn’t my parent, and he didn’t want to deal with me any more than the school? Should I try faking it better?
Sighing, I shook my head. I couldn’t afford more fake in my life, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. They would still know I wasn’t one of them. I knew I looked like my father. My mom looked identical to Aunt Tricia, so pretty that a man once almost drove into a ditch because he had been staring at her getting the mail. My father had been tall and redheaded, with a wide, dimpled grin. The only thing I seemed to inherit from her was my size, far closer to tiny than his height. He and his family died before I could remember anything about them, and all my mother ever said was that the loss had been sudden—and that he didn’t like to talk about it. Other than that, when I searched online, it was like they never existed. It really made no sense.
Whatever happened, they were gone and couldn’t help me. Somehow, they all vanished, leaving only me behind, in an expensive apartment where my surviving family hated me. I steeled my spine, straightening my shoulders. Regardless of the past, I would find a way to make things okay. My mom made it out, so I would, too. Maybe I didn’t have to disappear from the world entirely like her, but I would find a way to make it through whatever they threw at me next.
Turning away from the mirror, I headed to the elevators and then downstairs. A steady hum filled the lobby—a woman ran a vacuum quietly to my left. She didn’t make eye contact with me, so I left her to her job. I gritted my teeth, reminding myself I didn’t have to seek validation from strangers, and I should probably stop trying to get anyone to smile at me anywhere I went.
I knocked on the door and then waited before I remembered the hearing aids. What if she can’thear me knocking?
She opened the door, her grin big. “I was waiting for you.”
“Am I late?” I followed her inside.
“No, but I can’t hear unless I wear these horrible things, and they bother me. I only put them on if I absolutely need them.” She waved her hand, and I frowned.Isn’t that dangerous?She lived alone.What if an alarm goes off and she can’t hear it?If Julian really did show up to take me to the library, I should ask him about that. Maybe there were things that could be done if she absolutely refused to wear them.Lights that could flash or something?
Or I can mind my own business.
I didn’t know which would be better. If it meant saving someone’s life, I should probably say something. Then, if he told me to mind my business, I could go alter the guy who wasn’t thereal dealin my story to resemble him. Satisfied with my plan for silent revenge if needed, I looked back at his grandmother.
“What can I do for you today?”
She slipped an arm across my shoulders. “Well, first we’ll spend some money on new clothes for you. Oh, don’t worry, we’ll leave your shoes. You can explain to me what they mean to you if you want to or not. Afterward, we’ll have lunch. When we get home, you can start on my project.”
I sighed. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with you buying me clothes.”
“Well, you’ll have to get over that, darling girl, because I want to do it. You can either pick them out yourself or sit here and trust my taste.”
It probably took me too long to find my words, but I finally managed to say, “Ma’am, people don’t do things like this for me. Besides, I’m not destitute. I’m rich, I guess. I have a credit card, so I could buy clothes. I’m just …”
She nodded. “Alatheia, if ever there was a person who could understand your situation, it’s me. Humor an old woman and let me buy you some clothes. Soon, you’ll understand, I’m certain of it.”
I hoped she was right, since it felt like I spent my whole life walking on unsteady ground. Every second, someone could pull the rug out from under me. Could I trust her offer of clothingandtrust she wouldn’t destroy me in the process? I sighed again, since it wasn’t like I had other options. If it blew up in my face, I would simply not visit her again. It wasn’t like anyone could make me. My aunt already planned to send me away, regardless of my behavior. If she could make the process faster, I wouldn’t be there to see Dina at all, so it wasn’t like shopping could make the situation worse, and if it did, who cared?
With a nod, I followed her out of the building and onto the streets of Manhattan. The familiar noise of the city hit me, but it didn’t feel powerful enough to knock me over like it had previously. I wasn’t sure if the change was because of myexperience with Julian the night before or because Mrs. Dina Lent walked like she owned the very sidewalks. Everyone rushed to get out of her way or give her what she wanted, like dealing with royalty. Somehow, she managed the attention with a smile, kind words, and no pretense I could see. In her white sneakers, jeans, and a silk tee shirt, Dina managed to be more impressive than any of my uncles, who were company heads, and I didn’t know what to do with the information.
Six hours later,five shopping bags surrounded me as I sat on her couch sipping iced tea she’d made me. We’d headed back to her apartment after lunch at the café in the store—but not before she spent too much money on me. Dina—as she insisted I call her—oozed happiness like a puppy. Sometimes she bulldozed, but she never seemed to be put off by anything. When she sat next to me on the couch, she placed three notebooks on the coffee table.
