Love Edy (19 page)

To God be the glory, they got away
unscathed.

Bean began to open up to Edy, little by
little, day by day. Silent mornings of walks to school turned into
long meandering strolls where they talked about everything and
everyone, no one and nothing. They made plans for some nights and
seemed not to know each other on others—Edy figured those were the
evenings he went to dance. She would beg him, of course, for a
chance to see the pit and the dancing that haunted her dreams. But
Bean wouldn’t budge. Not only did he think her interest ridiculous,
he didn’t even believe she had what it took.

“So, does your mom still treat you like
crap?” he said when she asked yet again to accompany him.

“One has nothing to do with the other,
Bean.”

“You’re wrong,” he said and swung long legs
up on his bed. He leaned forward, eyes dark and intent on her. “The
last time I saw your mom, she thought Hassan a king and you the
pauper. She thought you were simple and spoiled, maybe even stupid.
She thought every choice you made the wrong one and she called you
weak and whiny every chance she got.”

Edy looked away from him, eyes watering in
the suddenness of his attack. “Shut up, Bean. Shut up about my
mother.”

“Not yet. Not until I figure out why you’re
never smart enough, never good enough, why no matter what you
do,
you can’t
earn
her love—and that fact doesn’t
even make you mad.”

“Shut up!” Edy’s arm flung out, smashing a
lamp to the floor in her path. The light flickered before tapering
out completely. “Just . . . shut up before I kick your ass.”

A vortex of blackness swallowed her, wild
anger, dominating fury. Never had she wanted to attack someone, but
her hands, her body felt raw with the power of fury. She could
smash Bean’s face, dent him, make him feel the inexplicable
humiliation she felt. And yet, somehow, savagery was hardly
enough.

“Are you mad at me?” Bean said as she sank
onto his bed.

She may or may not have nodded. Eyes on her
feet, Edy contemplated his words, how alone she felt, how
uncertain. He’d been right about her mother, about her impatience,
her hostility, her preference for her Hassan. In the wake of it, in
the wake of that truth, she felt like nothing, like less than
nothing if possible.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Bean said. “But it
was the only way.” Already, he was on his feet. He ushered for her
to move from the bed, then began shoving furniture into a
corner.

“What are you doing?” Edy said.

Bean grinned. “Continuing our lessons. Part
one was helping you find your fury. Part two is showing you what to
do with it. Are you ready?”

Edy swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Well, ready or not, here I come.”

Bean hesitated before giving her a once
over. “One more thing. You might want to invest in a sports bra.
You’ve been sprouting like crazy as of late.”

Twelve

Summer ended and Edy’s father arrived to
bring them back to Boston. She hid her disappointment at the
absence of Hassan with the smile of her mother, the smile of a
practiced politician. But she had missed her father, who had
somehow managed to lose even more weight over the months and stood
gaunt before her, like a man in desperate need of a fried chicken
dinner with all the fixings.

Her new breasts were a non-topic. Edy’s
father paused only briefly to note them, before sweeping her up in
an embrace and a smile. He had missed her; that much was obvious,
even if all his time had been occupied by conferences, speaking
events and the occasional guest appearance on cable news.

Bean said goodbye to Edy, in that classic,
awkward Bean way. He looked past her first, then at her, then past
her again, before rushing Edy for a hug. In the weeks following the
discovery of his sexuality, they’d come to know things about each
other—the secrets that were still technically secrets. His being
gay had never been uttered nor her feelings for Hassan, but both
understood nonetheless.

“Call me sometime,” Bean said. “Let me know
how the dancing’s going.”

And that was the other thing. The new thing.
The obsession with street dance.

“Lucky you,” her father said as they pulled
away from the curb. “To have Ronnie Bean with you for the whole
summer.”

Edy smiled. She had been lucky. Before Bean,
Edy’s mother had been little more than an oddity to suffer, a
difficult person dismissed by others as such. But Bean had been the
first one to see the impossibility of being her daughter. It had
done something for her, validated her in some way.

On the ride back to Boston, her thoughts
turned to Hassan. Would he be home, waiting for her arrival? She
hadn’t called, and only a brief text from her to him said that
she’d be leaving in the a.m. Obviously, he hadn’t been willing to
alter his schedule to see her. Otherwise, he’d be in the car. Maybe
he’d only see her when it was convenient, at dinner, maybe tomorrow
or the next day. She wished she didn’t care. She made up her mind
not to care. Still, Edy glanced at her phone. He hadn’t even
replied to her text.

At mid-afternoon, they pulled into their
driveway. Edy spotted Hassan, perched on his porch and chugging a
Gatorade, his hair like a flag in the wind, longer than she
remembered. He stood taller, body weighty and raw with power,
muscles like armor. Summer basked him from pale butterscotch to a
rich, glistening copper. When their car came to a stop, his mouth
curved to the shape of her name.

Edy burst out, sliced the space between
them, leapt the fence, and found him in an instant. He snatched her
before her foot could hit the porch, whipping her into a crushing
embrace. And still, they weren’t close enough. Not nearly close
enough for an entire season apart. But then he pulled away as
suddenly as he had snatched her.

His gaze ran the length of her body and a
shuddering exhale escaped.

“Oh,” was all he managed.

She flashed hot under the weight of his
sigh, lashes lowered, breathing forgotten. Awareness overwhelmed
her. Awareness of the single step that would take her back to him,
of the air that hung between them, of her pounding pulse and
fingers that ached to touch him.

Of words she didn’t dare say.

“Edy.” His green gold eyes clouded with some
complicated emotion. Hassan opened his mouth and let it hang, and
then surprised her with his choice of words. “What . . . happened
to you?” he said.

That.

An A cup, then a B, then a B pressing over
to a C.

Spell broken, she shoved him in the chest,
only to find that he didn’t budge.

“Pay attention in anatomy class and maybe
you’d have a clue,” Edy said.

But the sass didn’t hold and her eyes were
too drawn to the arms of a titan, to a chest carved for a god. Rich
golden skin sheathed a body taller, harder and more defined than it
had been only months ago. He’d been pushing himself, punishing
himself again, and goodness, the results were glorious.

Edy looked up, registered his raised
eyebrow, and realized she hadn’t been careful enough in her
assessment. “Did you give up and finally go for the steroids?” she
said in attempt to hide her blush.

Lawrence stepped out the Pradhan front
door.

Hassan glanced at him. “His dad tried to
talk me into doing steroids like he used to, but I told him—”

“Suck one.” Lawrence snatched Hassan’s
Gatorade and upturned it for himself, chugging out a third. He,
too, was bigger than Edy remembered.

“We’ve been hitting the gym like crazy,”
Hassan admitted and peeled the bottle from Lawrence’s grip. “We
need a repeat come fall. And with the twins attracting college
scouts this year, me and Lawrence figured we could give them
something to look at, too.”

Edy looked up to find Lawrence surveying her
discreetly. First a glimpse, then another, then a third.

Hassan caught it too. “You all right
there?”

But Lawrence only grinned. “Gonna be a real
interesting year,” he said. “
Real
interesting.”

“Well, who asked about your interests? What
is this, a questionnaire? Get back in the house, already.”

Hassan shoved him. Lawrence stumbled on the
threshold, laughing and even chancing a glance back before the door
slammed in his face.

When Hassan turned back to Edy; awkwardness
fell between them. His gaze dropped, and his hands found his
pockets.

“I should go,” he said. “More gym time
and—”

Of course. Of course he wouldn’t change his
schedule for her. Her arrival meant little in the grand scheme of
things.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Hassan said, still
treating her to the top of his head.

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

She had other friends to see. Well, one
other friend to see. At least Wyatt could be trusted to muster up
the proper amount of enthusiasm for her return. Without wasting a
goodbye, Edy headed across the street.

~~~

Roland Green leaned against the parched
white door streaked in dirt and tapped two times. It rattled with
the motion before Wyatt threw it open.

“Boy,” he said. “There’s a black girl here
to see you.”

Wyatt’s eyes widened at the thought of
it.

“What did you say?”

“Black girl. Got a nice little body on her,
too. Downstairs waitin’ on ya.”

Roland grinned. Still, Wyatt hesitated.
There were no girls unrelated to him that came to see him, black
otherwise. No girls but Edy, and yet his father had made the body
comment. Years of suffering his wandering eye and lewd comments had
taught Wyatt what his father did and didn’t like. Flat-chested
girls, no matter how exquisite, were not one of them. Wyatt had no
idea who waited downstairs.

“She looked anxious to see ya,” his dad
said, nudging him and grinning, nudging him and grinning.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Now quit looking’ at your old man and
get down there, already.”

Roland yanked Wyatt from the shadows of his
room and pushed him toward the stairs. Wyatt descended a creaking
staircase into darkness.

“Edy?” he called.

“Wyatt?”

She rose from the Green family couch, an old
leather concoction riddled with lumps.

“Wyatt!” she cried, and he plowed his way
down.

On the last stair, he froze. There was Edy.
And there was the body. Goodness, what a difference a summer could
make.

Edy bit her lip and looked down. “So, they
didn’t get past you either, huh?”

Shame stained Wyatt’s cheeks and forced his
gaze down, away. Words fumbled in his mouth for purchase. She had
been pretty before, beautiful in a sweet, cherubic sort of way.
He’d appreciated her then. He couldn’t have her thinking that her
body mattered to him. “They’re gorgeous,” he said.

Oh God.

He choked on nausea and humiliation, both in
ample supply.

Calm down. Get away and calm down.

“Let me get you some water. Let me just . .
.excuse me.” Wyatt ducked into the kitchen, body rattling like a
subway station when the train finally blazed through.

“Wyatt?” Edy called.

She even sounded like Lottie. Was that
possible? Was it possible that the girl he now loved could be so
similar to the one who had ruined him?

Gripping the edge of the sink, Wyatt watched
the water drain, willing himself to relax. He was overwrought, his
dad always said. High strung, even as a baby.

“Wyatt?”

She stood behind him now. He didn’t need to
look up to know that. He’d had that connection with her, right from
the start. The one that kept her in his consciousness and made him
know approximately how close she was at every moment of every
day.

“Oh, Wyatt.” Edy reached around him and
turned off the faucet. “You are making such a fuss. It’s nothing.
We’re friends. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Edy, I—”

She peeled his fingers from the counter and
laced his hand with hers.

“Forget it. I grew these things and forgot
to tell anyone. Even Hassan reacted to them.”

Wyatt stood, thoughts cleared. “Did he
now?”

Edy shut off the faucet. “He did. And you
should’ve seen my dad. It was like he wanted to get back in the
car, circle the block, and try again.”

A reluctant smile crept to Wyatt’s face.
“It’s just . . . you were so beautiful before. To see you now . .
.” Wyatt swallowed. “Is to want you.”

There. He’d said it. The only secret between
them: that he was bewitched by her, that a fierceness within
demanded her for him, enslaving him to this want. He knew nothing
but pain and urgency and greed. She had to see now, what she did to
him.

Edy laughed. “You’ve been in this dark house
too long,” she said. “Flip on a few lights. Better yet, wait until
school starts and you see one of the “it” girls. Then you’ll
remember the standard for beauty.” She pinched his nose.

Always, Wyatt thought. Always so
dismissive.

~~~

Leaving again. With a single week until the
official start of school, Wyatt stood before Edy, imploring, face
contorted in disbelief and inching toward an ugly sort of panic.
“What do you mean you’re leaving? You just got here!”

He stood opposite her with the fence
surrounding his house separating them. He couldn’t understand it.
They’d spent so much time apart, endured by a single lifeline: a
cell phone. Now that they were together, she would leave him again,
with a smile mocking his pain.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy.” Edy prodded him
with a finger. “We’re just going to the Cape for a few days—”

“
Seven.
You’re going for seven
days.”

“Fine. Seven. But we haven’t been to the
summer house in forever. And I could use a vacation. SAB was
brutal.” Edy shrugged. “Anyway, Daddy brought it up—saying he
needed a respite and what with Hassan’s birthday coming up . . .”
She took in his pouting face. “You can’t blame me for wanting
family time.”