The Daughters (3 page)

Now as she watched Todd come toward her, she wondered if that kiss had been so sloppy after all.

“Come on, you’re gonna miss him!” Hudson said, giving her a slight push. “Go!”

Lizzie took a wobbly step forward on her Louboutins. The good thing about looking like a Sesame Street character, she thought,
was that people usually remembered you. She limped toward him, and was just a few feet away when Todd yanked the iPod wires
out of his ears.

“Lizzie?” he asked, a smile curling around the edges of his mouth. “Lizzie Summers?”

She took a step and wobbled on a crack in the pavement. “Oh!” she cried, and before she knew it, tumbled right into his chest.

“Whoa, you okay?” he asked, catching her in his arms. With her nose pressed into his T-shirt, she got a whiff of Downy, Ivory
soap, and boy-sweat. His arms felt strong around her, as if they had finally developed real muscles. “Here you go,” he said,
propping her back on her feet. “You all right?”

“So, um, what’s up?” she asked breezily, trying to pretend that she had not just tripped and almost fallen on her face.

“Not much, how are you?” he asked, a faint English accent tweaking his
r
’s. He was taller than her now, and standing this close to him she was eye-level with his lips. They were definitely on the
full side—had he had these before?

“Um, what are you doing here?” Her right leg started to shake like it did whenever she was nervous. “I thought you were in
London.”

“We moved back,” he said. “Just a couple weeks ago.”

“You moved
back
?” she practically yelled.

“Yeah. My dad wanted to. And then my brother got into NYU,” he said, gesturing behind him toward the park, “so it seemed like
the right time. And we’re actually back in the old building. You guys moved away, right?”

Lizzie had sensed a year ago that moving had been a terrible idea. Now she knew why. “Yeah, last year. To the west side. I
think the building got annoyed, you know, with all the photographers.”

Todd smiled. “I’m sure I’ll still see you, though. Every day, probably.”

“You will?”

He flicked a piece of hair out of his eyes. “I’m going to Chadwick.”

Lizzie blinked. For a moment, she thought she might lose her balance again. Todd Piedmont was going to go to her school? He’d
been gone for three years, become alarmingly hot, and now she was going to be seeing him again every day—all day long?

“That’s great,” she said casually, hoping that her pounding chest wasn’t a dead giveaway.

“Hey, you guys,” Todd said to her friends. Lizzie had been too distracted to notice that they had come to stand on either
side of her.

“How’s merry old England?” Carina asked playfully.

“And how long are you here?” inquired Hudson.

“Todd’s moved back,” Lizzie announced. “And he’s going to Chadwick.” She looked over her shoulder to see their reaction. Carina
looked flabbergasted, and Hudson was blushing.

“Actually, I gotta go,” he said to Lizzie, oblivious to her friends’ reactions. “I’m meeting my brother at his dorm. But maybe
you can be my tour guide tomorrow?” he asked, smiling, as he stepped past her.

Lizzie nodded dumbly. “Sure.”

“Well, see ya.” He waved to Carina and Hudson, stuck the wires back in his ears, and set off down the street.

All three of them stared after him in silence.

“Holy mother of God,” Carina breathed when he was halfway down the block.

“He’s going to our
school
?” Hudson sputtered.

“Apparently.”

“You guys are gonna fall in love,” Hudson blurted.

“What?”

“He asked you to be his
tour guide
,” Hudson said meaningfully.

“Because he doesn’t know anyone else.”

“Still. There were sparks. C, did you see the sparks?” Hudson asked.

“I almost caught on fire,” Carina said.

“This is fate,” Hudson announced.

“Oh my God,
stop
,” Lizzie groaned.

“It
is
,” Hudson argued. “Don’t you think, C? Don’t you think this is fate?” Hudson was way into astrology and destiny stuff.
Way
into it.

“Okay, let’s break it down,” Carina said, turning to face Lizzie. “He was your first kiss, he’s hotter than Christian Bale,
and
he’s going to school with you,” she said, counting out her points on her slender fingers. “Yep. I’d say a higher power could
be involved.”

As Lizzie watched Todd turn the corner, she wondered whether Hudson was right. Unlike her best friend, she didn’t breathlessly
check her horoscope every day, or take quiz after quiz on the Internet to learn the name of her soul mate, but maybe this
was all happening for a reason. It all seemed too weird. Too… well… destined.

“When’s his birthday?” Hudson asked.

“November.”

“Hmmm,” Hudson said, nodding. “Scorpio. That’s good with Taurus. A little intense, though. You might want to be careful.”

“You guys, nothing has even happened yet, ” she reminded them.

“Oh, but it will,” Carina said knowingly as she slipped on a pair of silver Oakleys. “It totally will.” Then she led the way
down the street.

“His name’s Todd Piedmont. He starts today. He just transferred from London. He’s tall with brown hair.
Really
blue eyes. ”

Mr. Barlow leaned back in his swivel chair, studying her, and cradled his white-haired head in his hands. “And what did he
have for breakfast?” he asked dryly.

“He asked me to show him around,” Lizzie pointed out, trying not to blush. “I’m just trying to be helpful. Isn’t that the
Chadwick way?” She knew she was being totally obvious, but she couldn’t even pretend to be casual about this.

“Is there any chance your interest in Mr. Piedmont is of the less…
altruistic
variety?” Mr. Barlow asked, raising one white eyebrow. Thirty years as the head of the Upper School had made him a little
skeptical of teenage Good Samaritans. And his five years as a Marine before that made him a little scary.

“No…,” Lizzie hedged.

“Then far be it from me to deny your need to help people,” Mr. Barlow said, snapping forward in his chair and reaching for
the cabinet below his desk. He pulled out two folders and dropped them on his desk. “All right, Miss Summers. Let’s see if
your schedules match up.”

As he bent his lanky frame over the files, Lizzie took a moment to glance around his office. Nothing had changed over the
summer. The mantel above the fireplace was still crammed with old Christmas cards and photos from students who’d graduated,
and the taupe chenille couch was still worn at the arms. The acid green carpet from the eighties still hadn’t been replaced.
Chadwick was one of the most expensive schools on the Upper East Side, but clearly none of the tuition was going toward Mr.
B’s office, she thought.

“You both have the same homeroom, same English, same world history…” Mr. Barlow said, slapping the file closed. “He’s all
yours.”

“Thanks, Mr. Barlow,” she said, about to leave.

“Hold on there, Summers.”

Slowly, Lizzie turned around.

“I heard very impressive things from the director at Barnstable,” he said, taking a sip from a cup of takeout coffee. “He
said that you won a special prize.”

“Just for being the youngest one there.”

“For Most Promising,” he said with a smile. “And for that reason I hope you’ll submit something to the fiction contest this
year. I think you’ve got a good shot at winning, Lizzie. Even as a freshman. You’re one of the best writers we have here.”
He smiled gently. “No pressure, of course.”

Of all the teachers at Chadwick, Mr. Barlow was her most fervent supporter, ever since her eighth-grade English teacher, Miss
Hardwick, had shown him a story Lizzie had written for the literary magazine. This year, Mr. Barlow would also be her English
teacher. Lizzie wasn’t sure if that was going to be good or bad.

“I can show you something this week if you want,” she offered. “Maybe get your feedback?”

Mr. Barlow nodded. “I look forward to it. Now go show the illustrious Mr. Piedmont around.”

As she stepped out of his office into the crowded hall, her heart pounded, but whether it was from Mr. Barlow’s pep talk about
the fiction contest or Todd Piedmont’s imminent appearance, she wasn’t sure. Sometimes it was hard to believe that someone
like Mr. Barlow, who had actually known real writers, and some famous ones, thought that she really had talent. Maybe she
should submit something to the contest.

In the hall, people waved hello and stopped her for first-day welcome-back hugs. But she tried to keep moving. She’d gotten
up an hour early to straighten her hair with her mother’s state-of-the art ionic blow dryer, and she had only a small window
of time until her long, straight, red locks sprang back into a Ronald McDonald–worthy ’fro.

She checked the ninth-grade homeroom: no sign of Todd. He wasn’t in the lounge. She was on her way to check the lockers when
she saw a guy standing in front of the main bulletin board, scanning the schedules. Over one shoulder he wore a schoolbag
with some weird, vaguely European insignia she didn’t recognize. His uniform pants were that new-looking, inky black. His
white oxford shirt still had crinkles in it from being folded. His hair was shaggy over his collar. It was him.

She tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey there.”

When he turned around, any and all composure she had managed to achieve instantly melted. “Hey, tour guide,” he said, a smile
lighting up his face. His eyes seemed even larger and bluer than they’d looked the day before. “How are you?”

“You got your wish,” she teased.

“I just hope you’re not a bad influence,” he said, grinning. “Like before.” She felt the blood rise to her cheeks, and her
stomach churn. She prayed that she didn’t throw up.

“What do you mean, before?” she asked, trying not to stare at his perfect white teeth.

“You were always the one who wanted to throw water balloons onto Park Avenue,” he said. “You practically got my family thrown
out of the building after we hit the doorman.”

“But you loved it,” she countered. “I was just trying to keep you happy.”

“You
made
me,” he pretended to argue. Then he looked her up and down as if he were seeing her for the first time. “But now I’m finally
taller than you so you can’t boss me around anymore.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” she said. She cast her gaze down to his schoolbag. She needed a break from those piercing blue
eyes. “Let me see your schedule.”

She watched him open the flaps of his bookbag and reach inside for his schedule. A familiar-looking blue paperback peeked
out amid folders and papers.

“Wait,” she said. “Is that
The Great Gatsby
?”

He paused and then looked up at her with surprise. “Yeah.”

“That’s so funny,” she said. “I’m reading it right now. I’m kind of obsessed with it.”

“Me, too.” He pulled the book out of his bag. His copy was even more wrinkled and battered than hers.

“I finished it a while ago, but I like to carry it around with me,” he said, flipping through the pages. “Kind of like a rabbit’s
foot or something.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “I want to be a writer.”

“So do I,” she said.

“You do?” he asked, peering into her eyes. Her heart lurched into a rapid-fire sprint just as she felt someone walk up behind
her.

“Todd? Oh my God!”

Ava Elting neatly stepped her Pilates-toned body past Lizzie as if she weren’t even there and threw her arms around Todd’s
neck. “I
heard
you moved back,” she cooed, her voice rising and falling as she hugged him. “It’s
soooo
good to see you.”

As usual, Ava looked like she’d spent hours getting ready for school. Her perfectly-shaped auburn ringlets were pulled back
with a jeweled barrette, her brows were plucked into neat tadpoles, and her fingernails were French manicured. Just looking
at her could be exhausting. It had probably taken her all weekend to get that groomed. But Lizzie secretly wished she could
be the same way.

“Hey, Ava,” Todd said, pleasant but cautious, returning the hug. “Good to see you.”

“So you had enough of stuffy old England,” she said, tipping her head and batting her saucer-shaped brown eyes. “What happened?
Did you miss being around girls with good teeth?” She giggled and swung her Hervé Chapelier shoulder bag up her arm.

“Well, um, my dad made us move,” he said. “But yeah, I guess you could say the girls here have, uh, better teeth,” he said
in a resigned voice. “Or whatever.”

“Of
course
they do!” Ava said, playing with the diamond A that she always wore around her neck. “I’m sure they’re going to miss you.”

Todd just blushed and looked down at the floor.

There was something else Ava excelled at besides grooming, and that was talking to guys. And anyone else, really. Ava Elting
was probably the most confident girl Lizzie had ever seen. She had been that way since the third grade, and her constant socializing—and
flirting—had propelled her to the top of the New York City private school food chain. There wasn’t a charity committee she
didn’t oversee, a party she didn’t get invited to, or a guy she couldn’t talk up—usually to stunning results. True, she was
pretty, with her toned runner’s legs and carefully styled hair, but it was the force of her personality—and her shameless
flirting—that usually got her any guy she wanted.

“Oh, hey!” Ava exclaimed, turning around and suddenly acknowledging Lizzie’s presence. “I’m so rude! How was your summer,
Lizzie?”

“Great,” Lizzie said through a gritted smile. “How was yours?”

“Oh, you know, it was the usual—tennis camp in Florida, and then riding camp in Bedford, and then just lying out in Southampton…
wait!” She looked back at Todd. “We should all have lunch today. When’s your lunch period?”

“I don’t know, is it down there?” Todd asked Lizzie.

Lizzie wanted to mention that it had been years since she and Ava had eaten lunch together, but she just looked back down
at his schedule. “Eleven forty-five,” she said.