Juliet Immortal (21 page)

I slide into the seat and pull the door shut behind me. The heat blowing from the vents feels as if it will burn my numb skin, but I’m grateful for it. As soon as I buckle my seat belt, I hold my fingers in front of the plastic slats, hoping the warmth will seep through my hands into the rest of me.

Melanie stares. “You’re blue. You’re going to catch pneumonia.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, clenching my jaw tighter, trying not to shiver.

“You’d better be.” She shifts into drive and pulls slowly back onto the street. Water churns around the wheels, splashing as high as my window. “What is going on? Why did you leave school? Why were you in a
fight
? Where is your sweater?”

“It got ripped on a tree branch, so I left it in the woods,” I say, answering the only question that seems possible at the moment.

“You left it in the woods,” she repeats, voice flat. “With that boy? The one who was kicked out of the other school?”

I shake my head. “Ben wasn’t kicked out of school. He came here to live with his brother.”

“Well, he’s probably going to get kicked out of
this
school,” she says, squinting through the windshield as the rain picks up. “And you might too. Do you get that? Do you understand how serious this is? You might not graduate.”

“I’ll graduate.” It’s only three months until graduation, and Ariel’s grades—with the exception of public speaking—are excellent. There’s no way she’ll be kicked out of school because of
one
mistake,
one
in four years of being a perfect, invisible, low-maintenance student.

“Ariel, don’t you dare act like you haven’t messed up bigtime,” Melanie snaps. “We’ve got a meeting with the principal
and
the superintendent tomorrow morning to talk about what happened, and it doesn’t look good for you. Fighting on school grounds is a big deal. You’re
absolutely
going to get suspended. You might even get expelled.”

“What? But I wasn’t fighting. I was just—”

“Don’t act surprised. You’re not that stupid.” Melanie jerks the wheel to the right and the car sloshes down El Camino, where standing water covers everything but the middle of the road. “What did you think would happen when you and your boyfriend attacked Dylan and then ditched school right in front of—”

“We didn’t attack anyone,” I say, not wasting time debating whether Ben is my boyfriend. It seems Romeo’s revenge has already begun. He certainly didn’t waste any time. “Dylan attacked me. Ben saw him and—”

“That’s not what I was told. The principal said—”

“The principal wasn’t there.” I shift to face her as she pulls into the carport. “And all she knows is whatever Dylan told her. Which isn’t the truth. He’s a liar, and—”

“He’s not the one who ran off into the woods, Ariel.”

“So what?” I ask, struggling to keep my volume down. “I was upset. Haven’t you ever been upset?”

“Sure I have,” she says, shutting off the car with an angry twist of her wrist. “I’m upset right now, but I’m not running away from my responsibilities.”

“Well, maybe you should have,” I snap back. “If your responsibilities are so awful.”

“Don’t you dare try to turn this around on me.” She reaches back to grab her purse from behind my seat, jerking it into her lap the way she used to jerk Ariel from the playground. Angrily. Resentfully. “You’re the one who messed up, and—”

“And you’re the one who messed up when you got pregnant when you were nineteen.” They aren’t words Ariel would use out loud, but I don’t try to stop them from coming. I don’t know how much longer I have in this body, and it’s time someone told the truth that’s been festering unspoken between them for far too long.

“No, it wasn’t easy having you by myself,” she says. “I had no one to help me.
No one
. I had barely started my life and—”

“And then I messed it up.” The accusation in Melanie’s tone makes mine harsh, cutting. It’s impossible to sit here and listen to this woman ask me to feel pity for her. I had enough of that from my own mother, enough of the guilt and the feeling that my very birth was something I should apologize for.

“Ariel, please, I never—”

“And then I messed it up again when I got in your way in the kitchen.” A part of me knows I’m taking this too far, but I can’t help myself. “And you’ve never let me forget it.”

Melanie pales, her lips going white beneath the flecks of
lipstick still clinging to her mouth. “How … I …” She swallows. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” I ask, my voice a liquid whisper. “It’s not fair that you tell me I’m too ugly to go outside without makeup. It’s not fair that you act like no one will hire me because of my face.”

She clutches her purse tight to her stomach. “I never said that. That’s not what—”

“It’s not fair that you think I’ll never have a boyfriend because I’m so hideous.” I push on, ignoring the tears streaming down my cheeks. I don’t know who I’m crying for—myself, Ariel, or all the mothers and daughters who can’t find a way to love each other. All I know is that this feels more important than just another borrowed moment in someone else’s skin. “But I’m not hideous, Mom. You’re the only one who sees me that way.”

“I do not, I—”

“Some people think I look just fine. Some people even think I’m pretty.”

People like Ben. Ben, who wiped the blood from Ariel’s face without hesitation. Ben, who kissed her thin lips as if they were magical, sacred. Ben, who might very well stay in love with Ariel when the soul he’s really fallen for is gone.

The idea is an imperfect flower blooming in my mind. People don’t always end up with their true love. There are hundreds of perfectly suited pairs who never reach the place in their relationship that attracts the attention of the light and the dark. Once Romeo and I have been summoned, it’s always been too late for a peaceful parting, but what if …

What if I take Romeo out of the equation? Would Gemma
go to Stanford in a few months, leaving Ben and Ariel to see where their life—and love—will take them? An eye for an eye is surely fair, no matter what Nurse says. And Nurse isn’t here, and the Ambassadors can’t be trusted, and I can’t fathom a world without Ben.

Even if I can’t be in the world with him.

Even if I have to give him to another girl to love.

I clutch my own stomach, trying to keep my insides from spilling out onto the floor. It’s an almost unbearable thought, but what if …

“I think you’re beautiful. I’ve always told you that,” Melanie whispers. I look up to see silent tears running down her face, a perfect mirror of my own grief.

I want to do something to make the tears stop, but I can’t. I can’t force the lie from my throat. “No, you haven’t,” I say. “I can’t remember a single time. Not one single time in my entire life.”

Melanie’s face crumples, every soft line around her eyes and mouth cloning itself until her expression is wrinkled with misery. “I … I’m sorry.” Her lips curl away from her teeth as she begins to sob—silently at first and then in low, choked bellows that make my throat hurt just to hear them.

She
is
sorry. She really is. And I am too.

I reach for her, putting my arm around her back, my forehead on her thin shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want it to be like this anymore. I want to be different. I want
us
to be different.”

Melanie’s hand lands lightly on my arm. “I love you. You know that, right?” She pulls away, her tear-streaked face stark, earnest. “I have
always
loved you. Even when I wished I had more time or more money or more help … I never regretted
my decision.” She sucks in a breath and reaches for a crumpled napkin sitting in the cup holder between us. “But you’re right … I have regretted other things. Too much, maybe. I just … I always thought …”

“Thought what?”

Her red eyes fill with tears again. “I always thought you hated me. For all the pain I’d caused you. When you were little you’d scream and reach for me in the hospital, but I couldn’t take you out of the bed. I couldn’t hold you, and I thought … I swear I saw you decide to hate me right there.”

“Mom, no. Of course I didn’t. I
don’t.
” God, I never would have thought …

I suddenly feel like a fool, a cruel fool who only sees the world from her own point of view. Just like Gemma. It makes me wonder what else I’ve seen through warped glass. What if I had tried to talk to my own mother all those years ago instead of lashing out and running away? Could things have been better? Might we have discovered we weren’t so different or distant as we thought?

For the first time since I was a girl, I long for the chance to see my mother’s face, to look into her eyes and see if it was hate or fear or regret that made them so cold. I’ll never know if I could have reached Lady Capulet, but I can reach Melanie. Right here. Right now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, willing her to believe me. “It was an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with the tight ball the napkin has become. “I mean, it was, but I’d had three glasses of wine on an empty stomach. I wasn’t drunk, but …” She sniffs again and her next breath catches in her throat. “But if I hadn’t had that last glass, maybe I wouldn’t have lost my
grip. Maybe I wouldn’t have spilled it. Maybe I wouldn’t have carried the stupid pot to the sink in the first—”

“Mom. Stop.” I reach for her hand, but she waves me away.

“But it’s true.” She curls her spine, hiding her face. “You should know the truth. You—”

“Mom. I don’t care.” I lean down to catch her eyes, to make certain she knows Ariel doesn’t harbor the slightest resentment. At least, not about the accident. “And you can’t do this to yourself. All those maybes aren’t going to change anything. You’ve made mistakes; I’ve made mistakes. The important thing is we don’t have to keep making them. We can stop worrying about who hates who and just try to love each other.”

She looks up, eyebrows arching. “You really don’t … you don’t think I’m awful?”

I meet her gaze—so vulnerable and hopeful—and know that I don’t. And Ariel won’t either. She never has. All she has ever wanted is her mother’s love, her approval. “No. I don’t.”

Melanie sobs softly, and fresh tears fill her eyes. “I … That’s good to hear.” She sniffs, then laughs at the sound. “When did you get so smart?”

“I’ve been studying. I hear you have to be smart to make it as a nurse slash artist.”

She smiles. “I do love you, Ariel.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“But I don’t want you to get pregnant,” she says, the abrupt change in direction making me blink. “Not until you’re married and you really feel you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I say, embarrassed by the conversation.

“I’m serious.” She takes my hand, squeezes it too tight. “We can go to the clinic now. I know they’d fit you in and you can
get a prescription for birth control pills. Or they have IUDs if you want something more long term that you don’t have to think about every day. They’re perfectly safe. But either way, you need to use a condom too to protect against disease because—”

“Mom, please. I’m not in any danger. I promise. Ben and I aren’t even …” What are Ben and I? I don’t know, and that’s a subject I know is better left alone. “We’re friends.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Especially with this boy. He sounds rough.”

“He’s not rough.” I sigh, wishing we’d stopped while we were ahead.

“I mean, I know Dylan’s no angel, but he’s never been arrested. Mrs. Felix said Ben has a police record, Ariel,” Melanie says, stuffing her used napkin in her purse. “The only reason they let him enroll in SHS was because his brother and a couple of other people from the sheriff’s office vouched for him.”

“But I know why he was arrested,” I say, struggling to be patient with her concerns. “He had this neighbor whose boyfriend was beating her up. He called the police, but he was afraid they wouldn’t get there in time. And the police dropped the battery charge, so—”

“Oh, well, great.” Melanie rolls her eyes.

“He was only protecting her.”

“Like he was protecting you today?”

“Ye-es.” Something in her voice makes me certain my answer won’t satisfy her.

“Ariel … violent people usually have a good excuse for why they’re violent. But even a good excuse is just an excuse.”

The argument I’ve been composing dies on my lips.
Even a good excuse is just an excuse
. Is she right? I have every reason
to kill Romeo, but can any reason excuse murder? Or is my love for Ben, my fear for his safety, simply a lie dressed up as justification, violence disguised as justice?

“You might want to step away and think about that before you and Ben take your friendship any further,” Melanie says.

“Ben’s a good person.”

I, on the other hand …

“I’m not saying he’s not.” She sighs and reaches for her door. “But when we go for that meeting tomorrow, you need to think about your future.”

“I don’t understand.” I follow her. The second I leave the car, my skin breaks out in goose bumps. I’m still soaking wet. I need a warm shower, not another lecture.

“I’m saying you need to make sure Mrs. Felix and Mr. Neville know Ben and Dylan aren’t the kind of people you usually hang around with.” She wrenches open the screen door and slides her key into the lock. “Ben may be a criminal, but you’re not.”

“He’s not a—”

“You’re a good kid who—”

“So what are you saying?” I interrupt, pausing on the steps instead of following her into the kitchen when she opens the door. “I should blame him? Throw him to the wolves?”

“No.” Melanie turns back to me with a frustrated sigh. “But Dylan is saying that you two planned this attack.”

“Like I said before, he’s lying.”

“Well, he’s apparently got a witness who heard you saying that you and Ben were planning to corner him in the theater today before school.”

“What?” A witness? I’m guessing that’s Jason Kim, the only person in school as full of lies as Romeo. “That’s impossible.
Dylan’s just convinced one of his friends to say that so he won’t get in trouble. He’s a horrible person, Mom.”