Melissa Jensen

“I have something to show you."He sank down next to me and handed me a sketchbook. I opened it.And saw the mermaid. She was drawn in colored ink, exquisitely detailed; each scale had a little picture in it: a pyramid, a rocket, a peacock, a lamp. Her torso was patterened red, like a tattoo, like coral. She had a thin strand of seaweed around her neck, with a starfish holding on to the center. Her hair was a tumble of loose black curls. She had my face.I turned the page.And another and another. There she was fighting a creature that was half human, half octopus. Exploring a cave. Riding a shark. Laughing and petting a stingray that rested on her lap."I'm calling her Cora Lia for the moment," Alex told me. "I thought about Corella, but it sounded like cheap dishware.""She's...amazing.""She's fierce. Fighting the Evil Sea-Dragon King and his minions."I traced the red tattoo on her chest. "This is beautiful."Alex reached into my sweater, pulled the loose neck of the T-shirt away from my shoulder. I didn't stop him. "It looks like coral to me."He touched me, then,the pad of his thumb tracing the outline of the scar. It felt strange, partly because of the difference in the tissue, but more because in the last few years, the only hands that had touched me there were mine.I set the book aside carefully. "Guess I don't see what you do.""That's too bad, because I see you perfectly."I curved myself into him. "Maybe you're exactly what I need.""Like there's any doubt?" He buried his face in my neck.I didn't stop him. "So.""So?""We'll kill a few hours, watch the sunrise, have pancakes, and you'll drive home.""What?"I felt him smile against my skin. "I got you swimming with sharks. Next on the Conquer Your Fears list is driving a stick shift.Right?""One thing at a time," I said. Then, "Oh. Do that again."In another story, the intrepid heroine would have gone running out and splashed in the surf, hypothermia be damned. She would have driven the Mustang home, booked a haircut, taken up stand-up comedy, and danced on the observation deck of the Empire State Building.But this was me, and I was moving at my own pace.Truth: My story started a hundred years ago. There's time.”

“Back inside, his fire was crackling away. "okay." he actually rubbed his hands together. "Action." In two minutes, he'd pulled cushions and a couple throws from the two sofas and made a sort of nest in front of the fire. Then he grabbed his backpack. "Refreshments."I half expected to see a bottle of wine or someting similar. Instead, he pulled out a thermos.Followed by a bag of marshmellows, a box of graham crackers, and, absolutely, enough Hershey's chocolate bars to feed a small army."S'mores!" I said happily."And cocoa.Sit." He waited until I was in the middle of the nest, then disappeared through a doorway. I heard a few squeaks and rattles. When he came back,he was carrying a tray, loaded with mugs,napkins, and real, three-pointed skewers."You're kidding," I teased when he handed me one. "You actually own s'mores implements.""Roast,then laugh.”

“We walked to the edge of the creaky deck. He stood with his chest pressed against my back, arms tight around me. It was cold enough to make my nose hurt, and my feet were frozen, but I wanted to stand right where I was for a long time, breathing in the smell of the ocean. "There's the lighthouse." He pointed. I could just see a tall shadow. Then the light on top blinked. "In the daytime, you can see down to the water.""It's amazing.""We'll come back.Whenever you want."I liked the sound of that.”

“Where are we going?""East. To where the sun rises.""Seriously?"He thumped the dash-not too hard-and I actually felt a little burst of warm air. "You've been to Long Beach Island, right?You told me that in an e-mail.""yeah, Surf City.""We have a house in Barnegat Light. I thought we'd go there. We'll have breakfast somewhere and come back. You okay with that?"The beach. In late December. At night. "I'm absolutely fine with it.""So," he said."So.""We okay?""I think so," I answered. "I hope we'll be a lot better than that.""Yeah,me,too.”

“How did you find me?" I asked."Easy.I looked in the school directory and called Frankie Hobbes this morning.""You what?""He was okay, only called me 'Dickhead' twice."I winced. "Sorry.""Not a problem. From his viewpoint I deserve it." He shrugged. "He'll come around. We'll be down to one negative nickname per conversation by summer.”

“Would you like to dance?"I knew I had frosting on my nose.Alex leaned over and wuped it off with his thumb. "Well?"I could only nod. I had a full mouth, too. I stood up, swallowed, and accepted the napkin he was holding. "You're here.""I'm here," he agreed, like it hadn't been a ridiculous thing to say. "I am crashing your sister's wedding. Hope she won't mind.""She won't mind."He was wearing a tux. A real tux, complete with bow tie and silk lapels. I stroked one. "I'm guessing this isn't a rental."He squirmed a little. "No, it's mine. Nice dress."I looked down at the snug purple monstrosity my sister had chosen. At least it had a mandarin collar and some sleeves. "It's a cheongsam," she'd announced proudly. "It's Eggplant Ho Lee Mess" was Frankie's take. My pear-shaped cousin Vanessa got strapless. Now she looked like an eggplant."You look beautiful," Alex said, but the corner of his mouth was twitching."Well,you look like...like..." I sighed. "Okay, you look really really good." Then, again, "You're here.""I'm here.""Why?""I missed you," he said simply."It's only been four days.""A very,very long four days. But your e-mail helped." He reached for my hand. "Now,are we dancing or not?"We did, and it wasn't as complicated as I'd thought it might be. I stood on my toes, he bent down a little, and we fit together pretty well. The song ended way too soon."So," Alex said."So.""We can stay here if you want to...or if you have to. But I have another suggestion. Let's go watch the sun rise."It sounded like a good idea to me. Except... "It's ten o'clock. And it's freezing out there.""Trust me," he said."okay.”

“Never my favorite part of the night, the bride and groom smearing cake on each other's face.I'm with Frankie; it can't be an auspicious start.”

“Daniel."He looked up. "El-la.I was wondering if you'd catch me." He offered me a cigarette. I gave him a shame-on-you look;he grinned."This is your band?" I asked. Visible piercings aside, no one looked like that went by the name Ax."Nope,but I go to school with the lead's sister. Regular guy got food poisoning at a Christmas party last night.I've played with them before.""Weddings?" It wasn't quite how I'd pictured him performing."Usually clubs, but the last one was a bar mitzvah. Musicians have to eat, too," he added, a little sharply."Sorry." I wanted to wave the smoke away, but figured that might be adding insult to inury. "I thought you played the guitar.""Guitar, piano, a little violin, but badly, and I'll have to garrote you ith one of the strings if you tell anyone."That's the thing about Daniel. Obviously-the violin being a case in point-I don't know him very well,but he seems to hold a grudge for even less time than Frankie. "Secret's safe with me."He shrugged, telling me he didn't really care. Then, "Nice dress.""Just when I start liking you a litte.."He made his vampire-boy face. I could see why it usually worked. "You like me,Ella. Wanna do something when this is over?""Tempting," I said. "No, I mean that. But no,thanks. I'm not at my best these days.""You're good," he said quietly, blowing out a stream of smoke. "You'll be fine.""Yeah." I shivered. It was bitter outside. "I should go in.""You should." The cold didn't seem to be bothering him at all, and he wasn't even wearing a jacket over his white dress shirt.I turned to go. "Oh, I think I figured it out, by the way.""Figured out what?""The question.The one everyone should ask before getting involved with someone. Not 'Will he-slash-she make me happy?' but 'Does it bring out the best in me,being with him?'""Him-slash-her," Daniel corrected, clearly amused. Then, "Nope. No way. Wasn't me who posed the question to you, Marino.I would never be so Emo.""Of course not.But it was one smart boy." I waved. "Hug Frankie for me.""Will do. Hey.Any requests for the band?""'Don't Stop Believin'," I shot back. He rolled his eyes. "I'm curious, in that last song-are the words really 'I cut my chest wide open'?""Yup.Followed by, "They come and watch us bleed.Is it art like I was hoping now?" Avett Brothers. Too gruesome for you?""You have no idea," I told him. How much I get it.”

“Nonna is convinced that the ink from tattoos gets way inside and,like the mercury in tinned tuna, causes brain damage.She doesn't know that Leo has a lip print tattooed on his left butt cheek. Now,maybe Leo's not the best argument against ink as brain damager, but heaven help him when someone lets that secret out to Nonna.”

“Mom had spent the day alternating between beaming and sobbing. Aunt Gina kept whisking her into the bathroom for concealer touch-ups. Dad looked proud and relieved. There's no question that he loves Sienna more than life, but I think a little less of her will be good for his blood pressure.”

“It was only nine o'clock, and I was already exhausted.The first half of the day with Bridezilla hadn't helped, but bu two, I think Nonna had slipped her a Xanax (who knows where she got it,although I suspect collusion with Sam Nguyen), and by the time we climbed into the limo at three, Sienna was channeling Grace Kelly in a big way.The mass was fine, if you like that kinda thing. The photo session was a nightmare, since the flower girl and rng bearer kept kicking each other with their new, hard shoes, and the photographer didn't quite get that, no, I wasn't going to push my hair back so we could see my pretty face, so get over it.”

“I plan on dying without anyone ever having gotten video of me emulating fowl.”

“Well,that all worked out nicely," Edward said from my hand."Yup." I sat down and propped the postcard upright against my books. "Thanks.""Whatever for?""Being real,I guess. I'm pretty sure this paper about your life will get me into NYU.Which,when you think about it, is a pretty great gift from a guy I've never met who's been dead for a hundred years."Edward smiled. It was nice to see. "My pleasure,darling girl. I must say, I like this spark of confidence in you.""About time,huh?""Yes,well.Have you forgiven the Bainbridge boy?""For...?""For hiding you.""He wasn't.I was hiding me." I gave Edward a look before he could gloat. "Yeah,yeah. You've always been very wise. But this isn't really about my forgiving Alex,is it?"He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I suppose not. So?""So.I think you were a good guy, Edward. I think you probably would have told everyone exactly how you felt about Marina of you could have.If she hadn't been married, maybe, or if you'd lived longer. I think maybe all the pictures of you did of her were your public delcaration. Whaddya think? Can I write that? Is it the truth?""Oh,Ella." His face was sad again, just the way he'd cast it in bronze. But it was kinda bittersweet now, not as heartbroken. "I would give my right arm to be able to answer that for you.You know I would.""You don't have a right arm,Mr. Willing. Left,either." I picked up the card again. "Fuhgeddaboudit," I said to it. "I got this one covered."I tucked my Ravaged Man inside Collected Works. It would be there if I wanted it.Who knows. Maybe Edward Willing will come back into fashion someday,and maybe I'll fall for him all over again.In the meantime, I had another guy to deal with.I sat down in front of my computer.It took me thirty seconds to write the e-mail to Alex. Then it took a couple of hours-some staring, some pacing,an endless rehearsal dinner at Ralph's, and a TiVo'd Christmas special produced by Simon Cowell and Nigel Lythgoe with Nonna and popcorn-for me to hit Send.”

“You don't scare me.""Really?" She stared at me over the sharp frame of her glasses."Well maybe a little," I admitted. "Sometimes.""Escellent.No skedaddle.I have a dinner to prepare. My son is bringing home his new girlfriend." For the first time, I saw her look something less than supremely confident. "I don't suppose you know anything about cooking with vegan cheese substitutes?"We shuddered together. "Google recipes?" I suggested."I did.""And?""Maybe we'll take them out to dinner.""Good plan," I agreed, and skedaddled. I had my own dinner out to contend with. I wondered if I could get away with jeans.Probably not.”

“She peeked inside the box,then slapped the top back down and glared at me. For a second I wondered if I'd broken some rule of business or cultural propriety. "Homemade?" she demanded."My grandmother."She peeked again,and groaned softly. "I don't know whether I love you or hate you right at this moment." She closed the box firmly. "Of course I'll supervise your article.""The cannoli weren't meant to be a bribe.I just...thought you might like them.""I'm sure I will," she sid crisply, "a great deal.Just as much as I will not like the extra twelve hours on the treadmill." Then her face softened. "Thank you.What a treat. What I started to say about mentoring is that I don't normally do it. Apparently I scare students. But I would be happy to help you however I can."It was my turn to thank her. I added, "You don't scare me.""Really?" She stared at me over the sharp frame of her glasses."Well,maybe a little," I admitted. "Sometimes.""Excellent. Now skedaddle.”

“It was the first time I'd been in her office without her there, intimidating me into immobility.”

“You know when I said I didn't need you?" I asked. He lifted one brow. "I was so wrong.I can't find words to express quite how wrong I was.""Try.""Dramatically wrong," I said. "Terribly.""Please.""Okay,terrifically. Horrifically. Catastrophically." I gave him my best meek smile. "Forgivably?"He rolled his eyes. "I should have bought you a thesaurus for Christmas."I had his present in my bag (a bow tie that may or may not have once belong to Dean Martin, courtesy of eBay) and had a vague suspicion that the big lump in his coat pocket was a multicolored scarf I'd drooled over at Urban Outfitters."I still think Bainbridge is an ass," he added. "I've been there,y'know. On the edge of where they live, wanting in.""I know.""You're better than that.""I know that,too." Kinda,anyway. I thought Frankie was pretty amazingly brave in about a hundred ways.He leaned forward them, and pancaked my hands between his. "I am here for youse, Marino.Forevah and evah.""No matter how stupidly I behave?""Don't push it. And don't lie to me again.Now,what are you going to do about the Edward stuff?”

“Frankie was making me work for my forgiveness. It had taken several days, a thousand phone messages, and a seriously overpriced Vogue Hommes International shoved through his mail slot to get him even to speak to me. He was sitting across the table from me now, arms crossed over his chest (to be fair, he did that a lot when wearing that particular cashmere sweater; it covered the repaired moth hole at the point of the V-neck), glowering a little. I nudged the cannoli another millimeter toward him. It was chocolate chip,his fave."So I screwed up twice." I was wrapping up my tale of guilt and woe. "Edward I don't mind so much now. We just were too different for it to work out in the end..." I chanced a glance at Frankie's sulky face to see if he found that at all humorous. Apparently not.,. I sighed and went for honesty. "Alex...That one has walloped me."Frankie darted out a finger and scooped a little of the filling from the cannoly. I resisted the urge to fling myself across the table and hug him until he squeaked. "The sharks were good," he acknowledged, and not even too reluctantly. "Insane but good.""Yeah.And Ferdinand. I'll introduce you sometime."Frankie wrinkled his perfect nose. "I'll take my stingray as a shagreen wallet, thank you."I laughed.Not that I appreciated the thought of Ferdinand as an accessory,but I was just so happy to have my Frankie back.He read my mind and waved a cannoli-tipped finger at me. "Ah.You are not forgiven yet, madam."I subsided in my chair. "I'm sorry," I told him quietly. "I'm really really sorry. If I could go back and do any of it differently, the very first thing would be to tell you everything as it was happening.""Hmph." Frankie took a bite of cannoli, delicately wiped his mouth, had a sip of espresso,wiped his mouth. And examined the painted til ceiling.”

“He recognizes a sea goddess when he sees one," Alex said, nudging me with his arm."It's a ray," I retorted. "Its brain is the size of a peanut." But I was secretly very, very pleased. I was genuinely sorry to climb out of the pool. The sharks...well, the sharks I could do without. But Ferdinand had charmed me.”

“Nearby,one of the overexcited frat boys started wildly windmilling his arms. He had overbalanced and now tipped himself right over the wall.In a second, the diver with us had grabbed his ankle and hauled him back.The sharks, instead of being attracted by the flailing, like they are in every single scary underwater movie, took one sideways look and promptly turned tail,heading for the other side of the tank. They stayed there and didn't come back.The culprit's buddies pounded him when we climbed out of the water. "Smooth move, Ex-Lax," one muttered. "Way to be a buzzkill.""hey" was the red-faced retort, "at least I can say I scared off a shark.”

“I started to feel calm,almost, almost convinced that I was really the kind of girl who could swim with sharks.And then a trio swam directly toward us.”

“The cuddler and its buddies were all on the other side. That didn't make me feel much better. I watch Animal Planet. Sharks move fast."Tell why I'm doing this again," I whispered."Because you want to," Alex whispered back. "Face your fears, Grasshopper, and you will be free.Now,in you go.”

“The five of us followed her to a shallow pool. A few feet away was the shark tank. It looked a lot smaller than it did from the vantage points I'd had on previous visits to the aquarium. And the sharks looked a lot bigger. In fact, they made Jaws look like a pond koi. "That's a nurse shark." Yet another aquarium employee, this time a buoyant guy,pointed out a smaller (yeah,right) one that was lurking near the edge of the tank. "They're cuddlers. They like snuggling up to each other and even us sometimes."I edged closer to Alex.He grinned and wrapped an arm around my waist. That got me into the practice pool.”

“How recently have the sharks been fed?" the guy next to me asked.Alex and I were in a small room with a dry-erase board, a perky blonde aquarium emplyee, and three guys from Rutgers who'd won their fraternity Christmas prize. True to Alex's promise, no one had seen me in my miniscule jungle print. Another perky girl had handed me a wet suit and pointed me into a changing room. So as I listened to the basics of shark tank etiquette, I was fully encased in blue neoprene from ankle to jaw. The frat boys kept sneaking looks at me when they thought I-and Alex-wasn't looking. It made me feel just a little bit better. Alex's promise that I didn't have to get into the water if I really didn't want to helped, too. It had gotten me out of the car and into the aquarium."You can do it," he'd coaxed."Yes," I'd answered, thinking of the skateboarder a little and "fake it til you make it" more. "I can do it.""Yesterday." Perky Girl answered the feeding question. "Believe me. They're not hungry."I wanted to know exactly how she knew that.Did she ask the sharks?"Okay," she chirped. "Let's get snorkeling.”

“I'll tell you this,though, Frankie makes me happy. So does Sadie. I don't want to canoodle with either of them, but I love them to death.""Must you use those words in my presence?""Sorry.But.Truth:You are dead as the spat."Edward sighed. "You're right.You're absolutely right. So I suppose you'd best go to sleep, darling Ella. It's late. And,as was famously said, 'tomorrow-'""-is another day? Thank you, Scarlett O'Hara.""Actually-" -he scowled at me- "I was going to say, 'Tomorrow comes. Tomorrow brings, tomorrow brings love, in the shape of things.'""Shakespeare?" I asked."Queen," he shot back. "Not nearly as good as 'Bohemian Rhapsody' or 'Fat Bottomed Girls,' but certainly poetic.""Good night, Edward.""Good night, lovely girl."I turned off the light and climbed into bed. "Oh.By the way.""Yes?""I think I figured out why you called Diana all those nicknames. 'Spring,' 'Cab,' 'Post'...""Yes?""They're all things you wait for. I think Diana was making you wait, and it was making you crazy. Am I right?""Oh,Ella. You know I can't tell you that. I will,however, leave you with one more lovely old chestnut-""'All good things are worth waiting for?'""I really wish you would let me finish a thought tonight. I was going to say, 'Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby.'""Marvin Gaye," I said."The one and only.”

“Is your nasty natural?" I heard myself saying. "Or did you get it implanted?”

“There was no doorman outside Harrison Kinuye's house, just a Phillite senior leaning into a huge stone urn. He extricated himself as I reached the door. "Hey," he greeted me, sending out plumes of condensed breath and beer fumes. "Thought I was gonna heave.""Okay," I said. Apparently,that satisfied them, because he opened the front door for me with a clumsy flourish.I was in.That simple. I'd spent the entire walk over worried that I wasn't going to get past the door,I'd watched Harrison's YouTube video (cleverly posted under the complicted name "Harrison Kinuye's Party") three times to be sure of the password. The whole video consisted of Harrison holding a piece of paper with the address, date, and time of the party. Of course,it read backward, but that wasn't much of a challenge, and I suspected it wasn't deliberate on his part. At the eighteen-second mark, he opened his mouth and let out a massive, echoing belch.Fade to black. I'd been afraid that was the password and that I would have to burn for admittance.”

“He's right,you know," Edward was saying almost before I'd made it into my room. I had crept through the house unnecessarily. No one was home."Your assertions have lost a bit of their value these days, Mr. Willing.""You know," he repeated.I tossed my coat onto the bed. The stark black and white of my quilt was broken by a purple stain now, the result of a peaceful interlude with grape juice turning into a gentle wrestling match.The stain was the size of my palm and shaked like, I thought, an alligator. Alex insisted it was a map of Italy. Later, we'd dripped the rest of the juice onto the thick pages of my drawing pad, finding pictures in the splotches like the Rorschach inkblots used in psychology."Well," he'd said in response to my pagoda, antheater, and Viking, "verdict's in.You're nuts."The pictures were tacked to my wall, unaccustomed spots of color. I'd penciled in our choices. Viking (E), pineapple (A). Lantern (E), cheese (A). Crown (E), birthday cake (A) were over my desk, over Edward.I turned on my computer. It binged cheerfully at me. I had mail.From: [email protected]: [email protected]: December 15, 3:50 p.m.Subect: Should you choose to accept...Tuesday. I'll pick you up at 10:00 a.m. Ask no questions. Tell no one.-Alex"Ah, subterfuge" came from over the desk."Shut up, Edward," I said.”

“I was halfway out the door before Daniel had even stopped. I slipped off his coat and gloves. "Thanks," I told him."Hey." Quick as a snake, he leaned across the passenger seat and thrust out his hand, stopping the door from closing. "Hey! I have something to say here.""Absolutely.Shoot.""You're welcome," he said."That's the something?""Nope.That's a something. This is the something..." He pinned me with those almost-black eyes, and I had absolutely no doubt as to why his invisible girl climbed happily into the back of the Jeep with him. "You listening?""Sure." A little hypnotized, maybe, but functioning."There is not a single ordinary thing about you,Loco Girl." He pulled the door closed with a snap and was gone.”

“I don't have a girlfriend.""Right."Daniel looked at me just long enough to make me squirm, and only just avoid flattening a granny who was crossing against the light her shopping cart. "Excuse me?"I sighed. "Let me guess. She's as tall as you are and looks like she spends her leisure time in a lace bra and angel wings.""Jesus,Ella, what was in that cup?""What? Guys like you always have girlfriends like that."He reached out and jabbed a button on the dash. It took two tries,but the music stopped. "Sounds good to me, but there's no girlfriend-"I got it, a little late. Apparently, I'm slow that way. "Ah.I get it now." I slapped my forehead. It was unsatisfactorily silent; his glove was that thick. "Slow.Okay.""You look like an ordinary girl, but in truth-"I gave him the Hand.It looked silly in his glove. "Truth: I am a completely ordinary girl. There are tons of us around.Always have been.”

“In spite of the cold I took a seat at one of the sidewalk tables. It felt like a slab of ice under my butt. I shivered,but stuck it out."Hey, Loco Girl!"Shout out "Hey, Gorgeous!" or "Einstein," and I don't budge. But this one had me at "Loco." Go figure. I looked across the sidewalk to see Daniel's face, so much like Frankie's, framed in the window of his Jeep. I felt a sad little tug in my chest."You are aware it's only forty degrees out there,aren't you?" he asked. I shrugged. "Meeting someone?""No," I admitted."Then get in.Your hands look like wax. It's seriously creepy."I looked down at the hand gripping the blindingly cheerful cup.He was right.He also got out to open the passenger's-side door for me. I was a little charmed, until he pointed at my partially eaten cheesesteak in its wilted paper wrapper. "You are not bringing that thing into my car. It's an abomination."I eyed the cigarette he'd dropped in the gutter. He did his teeth-baring thing. I tossed my cold meal in the trash, knowing I wouldn't have eaten it anyway. The inside of the Jeep wasn't all that much warmer than out. "Here." Daniel took off his black leather jacket and held it out for me. It was heavy and smelled a little bit like a burned cookie. It went on over my own coat; the sleeves went past my fingertips. "You look like frozen-""Don't say it," I muttered as I settled into the battered seat."You have no idea what I was going to say," he shot back, grinning. "Something rotten in the state of Marino?""And you ask that because...?""Really? It's four in the afternoon, and instead of being with Sadie and my brother or at home, eating something colorful, you're sitting outside by yourself here.Not exactly rocket science.”

“They came in to look. I watched them. Most people go through museums like they do Macy's: eyes sweeping the display, stopping only if something really grabs their attention. These two looked at everything. They both clearly liked the bicycle picture. Yup, Dutch, I decided.He was a few steps ahead when he got to my favorite painting there. Diana and the Moon. It was-surprise surprise-of Diana, framed by a big open window, the moon dominating the sky outside. She was perched on the windowsill, dressed in a gauzy wrap that could have been nightclothes or a nod to her goddess namesake. She looked beautiful, of course, and happy, but if you looked for more than a second, you could see that her smile had a teasing curve to it and one of her hands was actually wrapped around the outside frame. I thought she looked like she might swing her legs over the sill and jump, turning into a moth or owl or breath of wind even before she was completely out of the room. I thought she looked, too, like she was daring the viewer to come along. Or at least to try.The Dutch guy didn't say anything. He just reached out a hand. His girlfriend stepped in, folding herself into the circle of his outsretched arm. They stood like that, in front of the painting, for a full minute. Then he sneezed.She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue.He took in and, without letting go of her, did a surprisingly graceful one-handed blow. Then he crumpled the tissue and looked around for a trash can. There wasn't one in sight. She held out her free hand; he passed over the tissue, and she stuck it right back into her pocket. I wanted to be grossed out. Instead, I had the surprising thought that I really really wanted someone who would do that: put my used Kleenex in his pocket. It seemed like a declaration of something pretty big.Finally,they finished their examination of Diana and moved on.There wasn't much else, just the arrogant Willings and the overblown sunrise. They came over to examine the bronzes.She saw my book. "Excuse me. You know this artist?"Intimately just didn't seem as true anymore. "Pretty well," I answered."He is famous here?""Not very.""I like him." she said thoughtfully. "He has...oh, the word...personism?""Personality?" I offered."Yes!" she said, delighted. "Personality." She reached behind her without looking. Her boyfriend immediately twined his fingers with hers. They left, unfolding the map again as they went, she chattering cheerfully. I think she was telling him he had personality. They might as well have had exhibit information plaques on their backs: "COUPLE." CONTEMPORARY DUTCH. COURTESY OF THE ESTATE OF LOVE, FOR THE VIEWING PLEASURE (OR NOT) OF ANYONE AND EVERYONE.”

“One popular connection was enough for him,ya think?" I asked the bronze Mary above me. "If you Phillites are scary now, I can only imagine what you were like a hundred years ago."No shocker, she didn't respond. The guard, however, gave me the hairy eyeball.”

“I knew no one was going to chase me for cutting school,especially not in a museum ("Hey,you! What do you think you're doing, hanging out in a cultural institution! Just wait til your parents hear about this!"(, but I still felt a little twitchy.More than that, I felt sad and pretty scared.”

“For the last couple of years, I've always started in the same place. It's a little room, more like a little hallway, off one of the Impressionist galleries. That always bothered me. I mean, even in my most Edward-centric moments, I knew he didn't merit a big room of his own.But to tack his work onto the wrong era, not to mention any conceivable style, always chafed.”

“In a long line of good exits, that was one of his best.”

“I never thought I would see you armed." I was trying for levity. It worked like a lead balloon.”

“Whatever you want," he said. "Will you please come here now?"I slipped a piece of protective tissue over my drawing and flipped the book closed. A piece of blue scratch paper slid out, the line I'd copied from Edward;s poetry book. "Hey. Translate for me, Monsieur Bainbridge."I set the sketchbook on my stool and joined him on the chaise. He tugged me onto his lap and read over his head. "'Qu'ieu sui avinen, leu lo sai.' 'That I am handsome, I know.""Verry funny.""Very true." He grinned. "The translation. That's what it says. Old-fashionedly."I thought of Edward's notation on the page, the reminder to read the poem to Diana in bed, and rolled my eyes. You're so vain.I bet you think this song is about you..."Boy and their egos."Alex cupped my face in his hands. "Que tu est belle, tu le sais.""Oh,I am not-""Shh," he shushed me, and leaned in.The first bell came way too soon. I reluctantly loosened my grip on his shirt and ran my hands over my hair. He prompty thrust both hands in and messed it up again. "Stop," I scolded, but without much force. "I have physics," he told me. "We're studying weak interaction."I sandwiched his open hand between mine. "You know absolutely nothing about that.""Don't be so quick to accept the obvious," he mock-scolded me. "Weak interaction can actually change the flavor of quarks."The flavor of quirks, I thought, and vaguely remembered something about being charmed. I'd sat through a term of introductory physics before switching to basic biology. I'd forgotten most of that as soon as I'd been tested on it,too."I gotta go." Alex pushed me to my feet and followed. "Last person to get to class always gets the first question, and I didn't do the reading.""Go," I told him. "I have history. By definition, we get to history late.""Ha-ha. I'll talk to you later." He kissed me again, then walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.”

“I don't like this," he complained. He'd been complaining since I'd scooted off the chaise ten minutes earlier, leaving him on it."Just a little longer.I know it's not your sofa, but it's not that bad."He grimaced. "It smells like wet dog. But what I meant was that I don't think I like posing. How do I know you're not going to give me a beer gut or a third eye?""I've always thought a third eye would be pretty useful." I pictured the Indian miniature art Cat Vernon had introduced me to and imagined Alex blue, with multiple arms. It was, probably, just what he expected. "And in what universe would there be an even remotely compelling reason for me to give you any sort of gut whatsoever? You're gonna have to trust me, Sushi Boy.”

“This is not exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to miss lunch," Alex said grumpily forty minutes later. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to see what I was doing.I stared him back into submission. "Wait."The art room is usually empty Thursday afternoons except for me. Ms. Evers leaves early to teach her UArts class and looks up.Of course, I am one of the few entrusted with the Secret Location of the Key.A few feet away from where I sat perched on a stool,Alex was posed on the anchient chaise we use for figure drawing. It's a relic, probably from the Palladinetti years: chipped mahogany and dusty velvet, what little remaining stuffing pokes out from a century of holes. I was probably luxurious once. Now it's like sitting on a slightly smelly board. But I'd wanted to sketch Alex as I so often saw him, reclining with his head propped on one hand,listening or talking or coaxing me to put down the glass, already,Ella,and come here.”

“Jareed tended to rush in and out of the dining room; he had Willing worlds to conquer every day. But he made sure to stop in the doorway on his way out and give Sadie a huge, flourishing farewell bow.It stopped traffic.”

“I'm changing..." I said."Don't do that," Alex said into my hair. Then he scooped me up and over so I was below him, his knees bracketing mine, his arms curving around my head. "Don't change."Truth: When he kissed me again, I couldn't have cared less about being a good person.I felt amazing.”

“Do you have any friends who aren't Phillites?"He scowled at me. "I hate that word. I really hate it.""Why?" I asked, genuinely confused. I gestured around the room, with its leather furniture and slick electronics. "It fits.""So do Speedos, but I don't want to wear those, either." He stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Let's try this: You tell me something you actually like about me."I snuggled into his lap. "I like everything about you.""Except my friends and socioeconomic status."I looked up at him. "Are you mad?""No,Ella,I'm not mad."I wasn't entirely sure I believed him. He looked a little grim. I felt a tug of worry. "I like your mouth," I whispered, tracing his lips with my fingertip, coaxing them up at the corner. "Among many,many other things."The mouth was a good start. I especially liked what he did with it.So much that I didn't realize what his hands were doing until I felt cool air.”

“I like your hair," he said quietly, "but I think you'd look good whatever you did with it."Here's the thing.He looked like he meant it, and like it had been the most natural thing in the world to say. I blinked at him."Okay," I said. "You want to know something about me that I don't really want to tell you? How about this. I dont get it.This.I hate that I don't. I wish I were the kind of girl who took guys like you as my sovereign right in life. But I don't.""Yeah,I've sorta figured that out,too." He let go of my hair and put his hand on my waist, so his thumb was against my skin. I shivered. "Here's my first reveal for the night. One day, not so long ago, I'm just sitting in the dining room, digesting, minding my own business-literally. Trying to decide whether the second hamburger had been such a good idea and whether to break up with my girlfriend of a year and a half. Then I try to stand up, and suddenly there's this really pretty girl doubled over and looking at my book like it was covered with crap-""I wasn't.""Yeah.You were. So there you were, with that amazing face and a yard of hair that smelled like flowers, and all this stuff drawn on your jeans. I really liked that.""You liked my jeans.""Among other things.But, jeez, Ella. After that, if you weren't making me feel like I had the IQ of a stone, your friends were looking at me like I'd crawled out from under one. I won't even go into what you obviously think of my friends.""Chase Vere is a reptile.”

“Mystery is good."He drummed his fingertips on my thigh. "Maybe.Maybe not. But I'll let it go. How about this: If I were to open the top drawer of your dresser, what would I find?""Are we back to discussing my underwear again?""Only in graphic detail..." He flicked my sore knee, but not where the bruise was. "I keep loose change and my oldest comic books in mine. Some people have journals or photographs or awards...""Okay,okay." I sighed. "Underwear," I said. "Two ancient swimsuits, and a magazine file.""Of...?""Pictures I've pulled out of magazines.""Yes,thank you. I gathered that. What's in it?"I squirmed a little and contemplated lying. Travel pix, shoes, hints on getting glue off of Ultrasuede... "Mostly pictures of models with short hair," I confessed finally. "It's sort of a goal of mine."Alex reached up and wrapped a strand around his finger. "I like your hair," he said quietly, "but I think you'd look great whatever you did with it.”

“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery," he teased me once. "And you're failing French.”

“Frankie,I noticed as I flipped the mic up to its normal position, was staring at me through narrowed eyes, clapping so slowly that I could actually measure the silence in between beats.I felt about three inches tall as I stepped off the stage.~~~"...and went down like a rock.Bam.""Oh,man. What did you do?""What could I do?" I shrugged. "I hopped up, took a bow, and ran. I was late to meet you."Alex was gently rubbing my bare knee. I'd rolled up my jeans to show him the bruise already blossoming there. "I would have caught you," he said, fingers sliding to the inside of my leg and making my insides feel like jelly."Not likely, O Gallant One.The stage is only a foot high.""I gotta see this place sometime.”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with me.""Yeah?""Yeah." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. For a second, he looked exactly like Daniel: cynical, bored, and liable to bite. "Well,that's funny," he drawled. "I think you're lying through your teeth."My stomach clenched. "Why?""Because," he said calmly, "in all the time I've known you,you have never once said those words.""What words?""'There is nothing wrong with me.'""Oh,don't-""Never. You are a walking litany of imaginary flaws.So." Frankie unfolded himself and rested his elbows on the table. It wobbled. He didn't. He studied me over his tented fingers. "Truth or Dare?""It's Sadie's turn to ask.""She passed," he snapped."Hey," I protested."Hey." Sadie actually waved a hand between us. "Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow.""We could," Frankie replied with suspicious agreeability. "Except I want to do it now. So,here's the question, Marino. What-""Dare.""Sorry?" he said."Dare. I'll take a dare/""Really?" he demanded."As long as it takes ten minutes or less. I have to go." All I wanted, really, was to leave.Frankie didn't say anything-or move-for the longest time. He just stared at me. Then, finally, he blinked, lowered his hands, and shrugged. "Sing.""Oh,come on-""Sing," he repeated. "You know how. Or concede."That, I thought, would be so easy. It would also break something precious. In all out time together, none of us had ever conceded a dare. "Sadie. Sing with me?"She nodded,but Frankie shook a finger at her. "You will not. Marino, you're on your own here."I pretty much stomped way may to the stage. Stavros's son Nic was manning the karaoke machine. His brows shot up when he saw me. "A first.”

“Five years from today. Where, exactly, do you want to be?"Her eyes lit up. Sadie loves that kind of question. "Ooh. Wow. Let me think. December, getting close to Christmas. I'll be twenty-one...""Passed out under the tree with a fifth of Jack, half a 7-Eleven rotisserie chicken, and a cat who poops in your shoes." Frankie returned our startled glances with his lizard look. "Oh, wait. That's me. Sorry."I opted to ignore him. "Five years to the day,Sadie."She glanced quickly between Frankie and me. "Do we need a time-out here?""Nope," I said. "Carry on.""Okay. Five years. I will be in New York visiting the pair of you because, while NYU is fab, I will be halfwau through my final year of classics at Cambridge, trying to decide whether I want to be a psychologist or a pastry chef. You," she said sternly to Frankie, "will be drinking appropriate amounds of champagne with your boyfriend, a six-three blond from Helsinki who happens to design for Tory Burch. Ah! Don't say anything. It's my future. You can choose a different designer when it's you go. I want the Tory freebies." She turned to me. "We will be sipping said champagne in the middle of the Gagosian Galley, because it is the opening night of your first solo exhibit. At which everything will sell."She punctuated the sentence by poking the air with a speared black olive."I love you," I told her. Then, "But that wasn't really about you.""Oh,but it was," she disagreed, going back to her salad. "It's exactly where I want to be. Although" -she grinned over a tomato wedge- "I might have the next David Beckham in tow.""The next David Beckham is a five-foot-tall Welshman named Madog Cadwalader. He has extra teeth and bow legs.""Really?" Sadie asked.Frankie snorted. "No.Not really.”

“I was still convinced that I was going to wake up, or walk out of a bathroom, or look up from my homework to discover I'd imagined the whole thing.”