Queens of All the Earth (17 page)

He came from the sea and he kissed her
, it read.

“Y
ou told her all about it,” Olivia said to Miranda, quietly but full of passion. “You were all about being good sisters and keeping things between ourselves and you blurted it all out to someone else. A journalist!”

“I was just—everyone needs someone to talk to—!” Overcome with embarrassment at being caught, Miranda didn’t try to cover up. She had told Lenny on the walk up the mountain, when their mutual disdain for the Browns had reached its highest pitch.

“You have me! The whole point of this is you have me!”

“Olivia—”

“Don’t say my name like that! Like I’m—like you’re Mom. Like you still live at home and care about anything. You didn’t even come home when Dad died.”

“Was I supposed to wait at home until we heard from him? And you never even
knew
him!”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. Miranda was shocked at her own forcefulness. Never had she actually criticized Olivia’s feelings—only sought to protect them. But Miranda had carefully buried that week in her mind. She had
so thoroughly rationalized her reasons for not attending the funeral that she assumed Olivia understood.

“We’re both adults now,” said Miranda. “Can’t we get along?”

“We used to.”

Miranda sighed and sat down on her bed.

“I’m going out,” Olivia said.

“Where?”

“I don’t know—I just need to walk. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Remember what I told you about wandering around alone.”

“Well, if I don’t remember, I’ll just ask Lenny!” Olivia yelled.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Miranda asked with unexpected tenderness, just as Olivia’s hand encircled the doorknob.

Olivia shot back a look that said
you’re an idiot
more venomously and emphatically than any words could. Then she left.

It wasn’t until Olivia was gone that Miranda realized Lenny hadn’t yet returned, and therefore couldn’t have written those words in that notebook. Someone else knew.

Greg had already vacated the common room, leaving his jacket draped across a chair. He took with him only his hostel keys, because they had never left his pocket, but as he left, he felt the only thing he really needed was not to be inside anymore.

Outside, he swam feverishly through crowds of blue-jerseyed football fans celebrating that night’s game, flying blue flags and singing rude songs. He eased between pairs of mothers sorting out their children and restaurant reps hawking menus to passersby. He sliced through the fragrance first of fried calamari, and then of open flower stalls and the woodchips of gerbil cages. Through the worn soles of his shoes, his feet
felt like stone. Water rushed above him and cast sprinkles on his face.

He was in the Plaça Catalunya. No question mark warned her that he might be there.

He said her name. She was there.

She was rooted to the spot and flowering, and he came toward her, sweeping through the seething crowd. He remembered her hand in his hand. He remembered the scent of lilies in his dream.

He captured her hand again. He shook the sea out of his hair. He held her against the tide of passing cars and football fans.

He kissed her in the Plaça Catalunya.

She pushed herself away from him and he realized he’d used up his last chance.

“Please don’t do that again,” she said. “Please stop bothering me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

Olivia shoved him. She only meant to push him away.

But instead, he tripped backwards over his ankles, falling into the fountain behind him with a sickening crash. Olivia was afraid he’d cracked his head, but the clap was just the sound of water, his wide hands flinging out to catch himself.

Greg floundered, unable at first to get a footing or a handhold strong enough to rise from the slimy fountain.

A small crowd formed around them.

Greg rose at last, dripping and shaking, though the water wasn’t very cold.

Olivia shook, too.

One of the onlookers gave a whoop of appreciation for Olivia. Another jeered.

The crowd around them tightened, but Greg’s eyes fixed steadily on Olivia.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but it only seemed to hurt him more. He, and the
fountain, smelled strongly of chlorine.

He said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to,” Olivia said. But still Greg said nothing.

The crowd around them waited, but in a fury of shame, Olivia turned on her heels and ran away.

Olivia swept back to her sister, who was surprised and happy to see her back so quickly from her walk. And Olivia looked much more energetic, though in a slightly scary way.

“Let’s go to Africa,” Olivia said as she flounced onto the common room couch beside Miranda, plucking the book out of her hands.

“What?” Miranda asked.

“I want to go to Africa. I always kind of have. And it’s so close from here,” said Olivia. “We could cancel our last two days and go to Morocco or something.”

“Morocco?”

“Yeah. Morocco, or Tunisia, or something. We don’t even have to tell Mom we did it. We can come back for the last afternoon and fly back from here. It would be cool, like our secret adventure. You know, kinda like
Casablanca
.”

“Olivia, I don’t think that’s a... safe idea,” Miranda said.

“American tourists go to Morocco all the time,” Olivia said. “We don’t even need a special visa or anything. We can get anywhere with our passports. And there are super-cheap flights from the airport here. I read about it in one of the guidebooks.”

“I really think we should call Mom first,” Miranda said. Her heart hammered, worrying that she’d set off another episode. But nothing Olivia had said so far was irrational—just impulsive. In fact, she seemed
to have thought through some very real details.

“Don’t call Mom,” said Olivia. “She’ll say no, and then we’ll never have the chance to go to Africa again. Together!”

Olivia put her arms around Miranda, rested her cheek on her sister’s shoulder, and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Please,” she said, more urgently. “I’ve always wanted to do this, Miranda. You can’t stop me.”

“What about all the friends we’ve made here?” Miranda said. “Aren’t you having fun with them?”

Olivia pulled away and crossed her arms.

“Seriously?” she said.

Miranda leaned back as if slapped, and looked at her sister for a long while. “I’ll talk to Hugo this afternoon about checking out early,” Miranda finally said.

She got up, but on impulse, she whirled around and knelt in front of Olivia, holding her face in her hands. Olivia bit her lips into her mouth.

“Try to take a nap,” Miranda said. “You look warm, and you don’t want to come down with something while you’re away from home.”

“I think I’ve slept more here than I ever do at home,” Olivia said.

“Jet lag,” Miranda said, getting up again and giving her sister a proprietary pat on the head.

As Miranda went to look for Hugo, Olivia cast a mental spell to make him indiscoverable. She drank in her solitude, laid her feelings on the couch beside her, and looked at them carefully. The closest she had come to this kind of confusion was the numbness that had deadened her that day, about nine months ago, when she’d stared at the acceptance letter from Cornell University. Four years of furious work, careful planning, deadlines, essays, nights of studying, and rigid scheduling, and now she’d held the results in her hands and realized, for the first time, that she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life.

She only knew she didn’t want to leave home.

After a few trips up and down the main hall, Miranda found Sophie in the kitchen, draining the water from the lily vase.

“Where’s Hugo?” she asked as if it were Sophie’s fault he couldn’t be found.

Sophie shrugged and frowned, pushing the pedal for the faucet to flow, refilling her vase with fresh water.

“Do you know where the Browns are?” Miranda asked impulsively.

This time the answer was an impatient sigh as Sophie glided back into the common room, carrying her flowers to their place in the back. Olivia had disappeared. Sophie opened a window, sat at the computer, and sternly ignored Miranda until Miranda decided to ignore her.

Miranda sat herself on the couch where Olivia had been and waited for anyone at all to arrive.

It was Lenny who next swung open the door with self-satisfied gusto, meeting Miranda’s glare.

“What, did someone die?” she asked, her hangover apparently having abated at last with the help of two stunning young men in reflective gear.

“No, I’m just waiting for everyone to get back,” Miranda said.

“Lonely are we?” Lenny said, dropping her bag onto a chair and rounding the corner to her dorm. Her voice emerged: “You’re trying to catch someone.”

Soon, she followed her voice back into the common room.

“Have you seen Hugo around?” Lenny asked. “I need to talk to him.”

“No. I’m waiting for him, too.”

“What’s up?” Lenny asked, plopping down beside Miranda. Miranda got up and began to clear away the debris of her picnic lunch.

“Olivia saw someone’s notebook. Someone’s been writing about her,” said Miranda, picking up the notebook to show it to Lenny. “Her and
Greg
.”

“Her and Greg?” Lenny asked.

“On the beach. You know,” Miranda said, anger flaring higher at Lenny’s nonchalant non-reaction.

“Weird,” Lenny said with raised eyebrows.

“No, you don’t get it!” Miranda said, slapping the notebook back to the table. “I know you told someone. Who else here knows?”

“Hey, hold up, calm down,” said Lenny. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“That’s impossible. It’s right here!”

“I don’t know who wrote that,” Lenny said, “but it wasn’t me, and I didn’t tell them.”

Miranda felt a rush of relief. “I’m so glad it’s not my fault.” She sighed. “Or yours, either,” she added. “Olivia thought it was you. I knew I could trust you.”

“Well, don’t get too attached,” Lenny said with a grin. “I’m going to Tarragona tonight. That’s why I’m looking for Hugo. I need to check out. I think I might just leave a note.”

“I thought you were staying until the end of the week,” said Miranda. “You have an article to write.”

“On Catalonia. Not just Barcelona,” said Lenny. “I thought I might as well start on day trips. One of the guys I met today has family up there and he said he’d show me around.”

“He could be anyone!” Miranda said. “Are you going to stay with him?”

“It’s my job,” Lenny replied, hopping up. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got to go pack up. The train leaves at 4:30, and I’m meeting Sam at the station.” She ran out, then quickly returned to the common room with a brimming backpack and a half-rolled sleeping bag. She threw her things onto the floor and began unpacking and re-sorting her underwear by Miranda’s
feet.

“Marc’s in there and he’s snoring,” Lenny said. “You guys must have climbed that mountain pretty fast!”

“We did, I guess, but we skipped the castle.”

Lenny just snorted and shrugged, and left her boxer-pajamas hanging out of her bag’s outer compartment while she ran into the kitchen and snatched a bottle of water from the fridge.