Lola and the Boy Next Door(88)

The overall effect is romantic but . . . daring.

Calliope is in awe. “I was afraid you’d give me something crazy, something Lola. But this is me. This is my song, this is my program.”

And even with the insult thrown in, I glow with happiness.

“It’s better than your original,” Mrs. Bell says to Calliope.

“You really think?” I ask.

“Yes,” they both say.

I pick myself up from the floor and inspect the costume. “It could use some altering, here and here”—I point to two loose places—“but . . . yeah. This should work.”

Mrs. Bell smiles, warm and relieved. “You have a special talent, Lola. Thank you.”

She likes me! Or at least my sewing skills, but I’ll take it.

For now.

There’s a knock on my door, and I let in my parents. They ooh and aah, and Calliope and I are both beaming. I mark the costume for quick alterations, which I can do in an hour. Which I have to do in an hour, because that’s when they leave for the airport. I shoo everyone away, and as I’m stitching, I glance again and again at Cricket’s window. He’s not there. I pray to an invisible moon that I’ll see him before he leaves.





Sixty-five minutes later, I run into the Bells’ driveway. Calliope and her parents are loading the last suitcases. Aleck is there with Abby on his hip. He looks as sleep-deprived as I feel, but he jokingly offers out Abby’s hand to hold the new costume.

Calliope does not find the joke funny.

Aleck and Abby are staying while everyone else goes. The time alone will hopefully force him back into motion, but Andy and I have secret plans to check up on them. Just in case. I’m opening my mouth to ask about Cricket, when he races from the house. “I’m here, I’m here!” He comes to an abrupt halt six inches from me, when he finally notices there’s someone else in the driveway.

I look up. And up again, until I meet his gaze.

“Get in the car,” Calliope says. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“You’re still wearing the rubber band,” he says.

“I’m still wearing everything you last saw me in.” And then I want to kick myself, because I don’t want it to sound like I forgot I was wearing it. I am very, very aware of wearing his rubber band.

“CRICKET.” This time, Mr. Bell.

I’m filled with a hundred things I want to say to Cricket, but I’m conscious of his entire family watching us. So is he. “Um, see you next week?” he asks.

“Good luck. To your sister. And you. For . . . whatever.”

“CRICKET!” Everyone in the car.

“Bye,” we blurt. He’s climbing in when Aleck leans down and whispers something in his ear. Cricket glances at me and turns red. Aleck laughs. Cricket slams his car door, and Mr. Bell is already pulling away. I wave. Cricket holds up his hand in goodbye until the car turns the corner and out of sight.

“So.” Aleck ducks his head out of reach from Abby’s grabbing hands. “You and my brother, huh?”

My cheeks flame. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him your loins were clearly burning, and he should man up and make a move.”

“You did not!”

“I did. And if he doesn’t, then I suggest you jump his bones. My brother, in case you haven’t noticed, is kind of an idiot about these things.”





Cricket has left a new message for me in his window. It’s written in his usual black marker but with one addition—a crayon rubbing of my name, imprinted from the sidewalk corners on Dolores Street.

The sign reads: GO TO THE DANCE DOLORES

I am going to the dance.





“I heard about Calliope,” Norah says on Friday night. “Sixth place?”

I sigh. “Yep.” In her post-short-program interview, Calliope was quiet but poised. A professional. “I’m disappointed,” she said, “but I’m grateful to have another chance.”

“That’s a shame,” Norah says.

“It’s not over yet.” My voice is sharp. “She still has a shot.”

Norah gives me a wary look. “You think I don’t know that? Nothing is ever over.”

My family, Lindsey, and I are gathered around the television. Everyone is working on my Marie Antoinette gown. The last few decorative details are all that remain, and I appreciate the help as we wait for Calliope’s long program to begin.

The ladies’ short program was two nights ago. We saw the end from the beginning, in the moment the camera cut to Calliope’s first position. It was in her eyes and underneath her smile. Fear. The music started, and it was clear that something was wrong.