The Girl Who Fell(34)
I focus on the stack of mail on the island, which I rifle through.
“Any news out of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts?”
I eye her. “No, why would there be?”
“Please. You don’t think I know you already applied to Boston College? You? Miss I-Have-My-Whole-Life-Planned?”
“You make me sound like a predictable loser.” I pick at a heavy white envelope. At first I think it’s another note from Alec, but it’s addressed to Mom. The script glitters with gold ink.
“Ease up, Zee. I think . . . never mind.”
Lizzie at a loss for words? “What? What do you think?”
“I think your dad leaving messed you up more than you let on and you want to feel like you have some control over your future. I think it would be weird if you didn’t apply early to Boston College. I would’ve done the same thing if I were you, and I wouldn’t have told anyone either.”
“Really?”
“Yep. No one needs to have the whole world processing their rejection. I mean, not that you’ll get rejected, you know, but I’m just saying . . . some things should stay private.”
“I should have told you.” I tap the thick envelope against the lip of the counter.
“No worries. I didn’t tell you I applied for an internship at The New York Times.”
“You did? When?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She waves away her words. “I’ll be competing with college students, college graduates. I’ll never get it.”
“You might. You’re fairly awesome.”
“Yeah, well, ditto. Guess we both crave validation from the big, bad world.” She nods at the envelope. “What’s that? An invite to the ball?”
“Anna’s wedding, I think.”
“Who?”
“Gregg’s older sister.” I toss the card onto the pile of mail, unopened. I hate not knowing if my dad will be there, if I’ll have to see him before I make the choice to see him. “We’ve had a ‘save the date’ card on the fridge for months. She picked New Year’s Eve of all days.”
“Way to hijack a holiday.”
“I know, right?”
“It’s been said love makes people do crazy shit, Zephyr.”
“If you say so.” I grab my coat and catch a new addition to the family calendar. “Dinner with Jimmy.” Date night for Mom and Dad. Every Monday. I pull the door tight behind me.
• • •
The Blueberry Muffin is packed when we arrive, with a line of at least a dozen people waiting in the freezing cold.
“Oh, this sucks.” Lizzie’s breath crafts a white cloud just beyond her lips.
I shuffle my feet for warmth. “Do you want to bail and go somewhere else?”
“There is nowhere else. That’s why everyone’s here.”
“I can wait,” I say, just as I hear a tap on one of the front windows. I see a hand waving. I look behind me, but there’s no one. I peer closer and see it’s Lani Briggs, waving us in.
Lizzie shrugs. “It’s better than waiting.” But only just. Lizzie seems to forget Lani’s wholly unlovable enthusiasm as she pushes us through the crowd to her table.
When we slide into the booth, there are two steaming plates of pancakes, eggs, and sausage waiting, an order I recognize as the Lumberjack Special, though Lani’s alone. And, come to think of it, I’ve never actually seen Lani eat.
“Mind if I grab one of those sausages?” Lizzie asks, unwrapping a fork from the rolled napkin place setting.
“Have at it,” a voice says from behind us. My stomach drops realizing we’ve just crashed a breakfast date.
With Gregg.
Lani and Gregg?
Gregg takes a seat next to Lani, plucks his coffee mug from in front of me.
“Maybe we should—”
“Wait in the huge line?” Gregg interrupts me. “That’s lame. Eat with us.”
“Really?” Lizzie says. “It’s cool?”
“Totally. We’ll never finish all this food.” Lani pushes her plate to the middle of the table.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Lizzie spears the coveted sausage with her fork.
Gregg smashes a mound of egg onto an English muffin like all of this is perfectly normal.
I shift uncomfortably in the hard booth, deserted by my appetite.
“I heard you pulled off a miracle at State.” Gregg drizzles maple syrup over his egg muffin in crisscross stripes like nothing’s been different between us the last few weeks. As if he didn’t kiss me, tell me I’d crushed him by kissing Alec . . . or, apparently, started having breakfast dates with Lani Briggs.
“Zephyr scored the winning goal,” Lizzie mumbles from under a mouthful of food.