Thorn Abbey (7 page)

Except, he’s
not
here. He’s somewhere else. Again.

I force myself to snap out of my Max trance and pay attention to Mr. Bagley. “For those of you who actually finished the novel, you were no doubt surprised by the fact that it has two endings. In the first ending, Charles Smithson and Sarah Woodruff live happily ever after. In the second ending, Charles and Sarah part ways. Why did John Fowles write it this way?” he asks the class.

Franklin sits next to Max, which is completely awkward, because every time I glance in Max’s direction, his alert eyes flash with warning. Why did he tell me to steer clear of Max? For that matter, why did Devon? In her case, I guess she’s worried that I will remind Max of Becca because I’m the new roommate, which will make him seriously depressed. But Franklin made it seem like I should be careful for my own sake.

Why? What sorts of “issues” does Max have—besides mourning his dead girlfriend, that is? He and I definitely have a connection. I felt it when we first met, at the fountain, and even on the cliff. Most of all on the cliff. He was
this close
to kissing me. I could so help him move on, if only he would let me.

The Kerrith girls are still gawking at me. I cover my bandaged cheek with my hand and lean into it, like I’m contemplating deep thoughts. I don’t think they’re buying it, though, and besides, the pressure makes the pain worse.

“Tess?”

I bolt up in my seat. Mr. Bagley smiles patiently at me.

“Yes?”

“Any insights? On John Fowles’s dual ending?”

“Oh! I think it has to do with his philosophy of existentialism. Fowles didn’t believe that there was one absolute truth or reality. He believed that people are free, that they have choices. So he gave his two main characters the freedom to choose their own destinies.”

“Very good, Tess! Does anyone else have anything to add?”

The French Lieutenant’s Woman
is insanely romantic. I loved the ending where Charles and Sarah are reunited after a long separation and he finds out that she had his baby in secret and they realize that they belong together.

Of course, I hated the alternate ending where Charles and Sarah can’t make it work and he moves to another continent forever. Why can’t all love stories end happily?

I glance across the table at Max. He’s still staring pensively at his laptop. I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling right now.
Ugh.
Obviously, I understand fictional characters better than real people. At least I’ll get an A in this class, even if I get an F in Max 101.

Mr. Bagley announces that we have to come up with a paper topic plus a short outline by Friday. I add this to my
to-do list, which is already looking pretty long. There’s definitely a lot of homework in private school.

At nine forty-five, when class is over, Max practically speed-walks out the door. Not even a “hi” or a “bye” or a “thank you for pulling me back from the edge of the cliff”? I gather my stuff, my mood suddenly as gray as the sky outside. The two Kerrith girls and Mila Kunis are gabbing about their hot dates with their hot boyfriends on Friday night, which makes me feel even worse.

“Hi, Tess!” Franklin pauses by my chair on his way out.

“What?” I snap.

He laughs. “Was it something I said?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just this headache,” I improvise. Why am I being so rude to Franklin? I’m not usually a rude person, and besides, he’s been nothing but nice to me since I got here.

I’d better start over. “Soooo. How are you? How’s life?”

“Life is excellent. Are you on your way to Latin?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“Precalc. Mr. Millstein. You’re a sophomore, right? You’ll get him next year.”

We head into the hallway, and I listen politely as Franklin goes on about Mr. Millstein’s infamous pop quizzes. But I can’t stop thinking about what he said about Max. Maybe I should just ask him what he meant point-blank.

But before I can open my mouth, I spot Max in the crowded hallway, leaning against a trophy case filled with medals. When he sees me, he straightens and shoots me a shy half smile. “Hi, Tess.”

“Max!”

I mumble “Excuse me” to Franklin and hurry to Max’s side. “Hi! Are you okay? I mean, how are you?” I babble.

“I’m good, thanks. Listen, are you doing anything tonight?”

Confused, I glance over my shoulder. Is Max talking to me?
Oh my God, he’s talking to me.
I notice Franklin hanging back and checking his phone.

“Tess?” Max prompts me.

“What? Yes! I thought—” I take a deep breath so as to stop sounding like a complete idiot. “Let’s see, tonight? I had this thing, but I don’t have it anymore. Yeah, I’m definitely free.”

“I thought maybe we could meet at the library and work on those paper topics for Bags.”

“Sure!”

“Say, at eight? If you give me your number, I can text you.”

“Sure!”

I try to sound calm, cool, and collected, like his invitation is no big deal. But it’s hard to keep from jumping up and down and screaming with joy.

We exchange numbers. From zero attention to a study date.
I wonder what changed? But maybe that’s just how boys act. It’s not like I have a lot of experience in that department. Grinning, I type his name into my contact list as MAX!!! with three exclamation points.

“What’s so funny?” he asks me.

“What? Oh, I was just thinking about how much smaller cell phones will get in the future,” I reply, attempting to cover up my dumb crush behavior. Pretty soon, I’ll be scribbling “I
MAX” in my notebook with glittery pink markers.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Yeah, you’re definitely strange.”

“Uh, thanks?”

He waves and takes off. Franklin is waiting for him a little ways down the crowded hall. He tucks his phone in his pocket and says something to Max.

As they walk away, Franklin turns and gives me that warning look. I know what he’s thinking. But I don’t care.

I head down the hall in the other direction, practically skipping.

I have a date with Max.

I have a date with Max.

I have a date with Max.

A
T LUNCH
, I
EAT A BIG PLATE OF DRESSINGLESS, TASTELESS RAW
vegetables while Devon tells Priscilla, Elinor, Yoonie, and me about the improvements she wants to make to the Kerrith third-floor lounge. I bite into a carrot stick and take a big sip of water—room temperature, with a slice of lemon, the way Devon told me to drink it—and feel myself getting skinnier and prettier. And hungrier. How do these people survive on so little food? And just how skinny and pretty will I get by eight o’clock, when I meet up with Max?

“We could get a new DVD player plus some new furniture. And maybe an Xbox, too,” Devon says. “The stuff we have now is basically flea market crap. I thought it would be nice to make some changes, start the year fresh.” She shrugs and smiles sadly.

“Oh, sweetie.” Priscilla reaches across the table and squeezes Devon’s hand. “I think that’s an
awesome
idea.”

“We are totally with you on this,” Elinor adds.

“Big-time.” Yoonie gives two thumbs-up.

I wonder what Devon and the girls are talking about. Do they mean “start the year fresh” because of what happened to Becca? I wish I could jump into their discussion, but I don’t want to intrude or say the wrong thing. Especially not after my idiotic colonoscopy remark the other day.

“So I talked to Mrs. Frith, and she says we can redecorate if we pay for it ourselves.” Devon continues, “Does anyone have any ideas? Priscilla, your parents will pitch in, right?”

“Hit up the Texas oil tycoons,” Priscilla jokes. “Seriously, they’ll totally send me a check. They never ask questions. What about your mom and dad, Devon? They’re loaded, too, right?”

“I texted my mom about it this morning. She said she has to think about it. Her divorce lawyer is charging her a fortune and she has to be careful with her money or whatever. Of course, if she wasn’t such a selfish bitch, there wouldn’t be a divorce to begin with.” Devon sighs. “I guess I can try my dad, though. I can usually guilt him into letting me use his AmEx card.”

I stare at Devon. I had no idea her parents were splitting up.

“Mother and Dad will send me a check if I ask. I’ll tell them I need to replace my Burberry. They’ll never notice,” Elinor volunteers.

“I’ll tell mine I need a new bow for my violin,” Yoonie adds.

“Perfect.” Devon turns to me. “Tess, what about you?”

“I guess I can ask my mom,” I say reluctantly. My mom can barely afford rent and groceries, much less fancy furniture and DVD players and Xboxes for our dorm. But I don’t want to tell the girls that.

“What about your dad? Are they divorced?” Devon asks.

I hesitate. I really don’t want to get into my depressing family history. “Sort of,” I say vaguely.

“Sort of? You’re quite the mystery, aren’t you? I’m going to have to Google you, Tess. I bet you’re like the crown princess of some no-name country, and the bad haircut and discount shoes are all an act to fit in with us lowly mortals.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. Does Devon know that I’ve been cyber-stalking Becca? I’m so rattled by her comment that I don’t even feel hurt by her insult.

Yoonie gives me a sympathetic smile. “
I
think your hair’s cute. Very retro, very Sarah Michelle Gellar in
Grudge 2
. Who does your highlights?”

“No one. They’re just like that. You know, naturally.” I don’t add that my mom cuts my hair, once a year. If I let her.

“No way! You’re so lucky. I have to spend two hundred dollars a month to get this,” Yoonie says.

“Big deal, sweetie, try
five
hundred a month,” Priscilla scoffs.

“This hair talk is all very fascinating, but can we get back on topic? Money, people. I need money,” Devon says irritably.

“Maybe we could throw a fund-raiser? Like a bake sale or something?” I suggest, wanting to be helpful. The Thorn Abbey boys must eat, even if the girls don’t.

“I’m sure we’d be able to buy some
great
stuff with the twelve dollars we’d make from selling cupcakes,” Devon says sarcastically.

I cringe. Devon seems to have gotten a lot more snitty since the subject of her mom came up. Or maybe she’s upset about her parents’ divorce. The other girls didn’t seem surprised by the news. I guess she confides in them about family stuff, but not me. On the other hand, I haven’t confided in Devon about my family stuff, either. Maybe if I open up to her, she’ll open up to me?

It was so much easier at Avery Park High. Kayleigh was basically my only friend and we knew everything there was to know about each other’s lives, and there was nothing to be embarrassed about because neither of our parents had money, fancy houses, glamorous jobs, or stable marriages. Besides, Kayleigh and I didn’t have deep conversations. We mostly ate
junk food and watched TV and strategized about her various unrequited crushes.

“I’ll expect all contributions by end of next week. Then we can go shopping together that weekend,” Devon announces.

“Isn’t that the Corn Roast?” Priscilla asks.

“Oh. That.” Devon picks up her phone and starts scrolling. “Hmmm, you’re right. No biggie, we can work around it.”

“What’s a Corn Roast?” I picture cobs of corn cooked on a giant spit, the way whole pigs are cooked at Hawaiian luaus.

“A big, huge party with a bonfire and barbecue and Headmaster Henle’s old-person idea of ‘pop music.’ And, of course, a lot of drunk making out after dark when the grown-ups aren’t looking,” Yoonie says with a sly grin.

I picture myself at the Corn Roast with Max. Not that that would happen in a million years, but still. I dip my head and scarf down more tasteless vegetables so the other girls won’t see me blush.

Devon is too focused to notice me. “Okay, next topic. There’s a party in Chapin tonight. Eight o’clock, third floor, Killian Montgomery’s room. You’re all coming with me, right?”

Priscilla raises her hand. “Excuse me. Girls in Chapin? Without an official event? How are we supposed to get past the security guard and the house counselor?”

“Killian has that under control. We’re supposed to tell the
guard we’re going to a Movie Fest subcommittee meeting,” Devon explains.

“Okay, well, count me in. As long as I can squeeze in a mani-pedi,” Priscilla says, frowning at her nails.

“I’m in too, although I’ll probably have to leave early. This cleanse is exhausting. I fainted in French yesterday, and Madame forced me to go see that bitch nurse, and she says I’m supposed to get more rest,” Elinor mutters.

Yoonie checks her phone. “I’ve got chamber practice at seven thirty, but I can sneak out. It’s just Mozart.”

Devon nods approvingly. “Great. Tess? You’re in too, right? It’s time you got acquainted with Thorn Abbey’s male population.”

I stall, taking a long sip of lemon water. Eight o’clock is when I’m supposed to meet Max. “I can’t.”

“Why? Have you got a date?” Devon asks snidely.

I squirm. I can’t tell her that I actually do have a date, with Max. She told me to stay away from him, and she isn’t the sort of person one disobeys or says “no” to.