The Book of Love (16 page)

W
hat the hell had just happened?

Lucy’s head was spinning. Her legs were exhausted, but she forced them to go.

Lucy had never liked Tristan as anything more than a friend. In all the years of knowing him, it had never even occurred to her that he would ever be anything but one. When he’d first tried to confess his love for her almost two months ago, she had been scared—scared that, if he did, nothing would ever be the same between them. And so she’d stopped him from telling her. But what if instead . . . she’d let him?

No! Lucy tried to shake her head, to shake the thoughts out. Why was she thinking about all of this now? When it was far too late for anything to ever happen?

And
why couldn’t she stop feeling his lips on hers?

Lucy lifted herself off the seat so she was standing, still pedaling. She felt the small gold vial pressing against her leg inside her pocket. The Diamonding Powder. The magic she so badly wanted but now couldn’t even use. She should go to Gil and she should give it back.

And then a thought popped into Lucy’s head. What Tristan had said, about Gil. He confessed his love to Lucy because of something Gil said.

Gil said something. . . .

But what?

Lucy’s heart pounded along with her fist as she rapped on Gil’s front door. She could hear sounds coming from inside—music, a TV sitcom with a heavy laugh track. She felt strange and fuzzy, like she was trapped behind glass, like the fear she was feeling was not even her own.

Lucy knocked again, harder this time.

The door swung open, and a girl popped her head out. She looked vaguely familiar, but Lucy was pretty sure she’d never actually met her before. It would be impossible to forget someone this stunning. The girl’s skin was flawless, her eyes were fringed in thick lashes, her hair was lush, and her lips were pursed into a Cupid’s bow, both sexy and sweet. Everything about this girl was perfect except better, because perfection gets boring, and this girl had the sort of face you could stare at forever. Lucy blinked. She forced herself to look away.

“Hi,” Lucy said. “Is Gil here?”

The girl’s mouth spread into a luminous smile and she laughed. Lucy knew that laugh.

“Luce, it’s
me
!” The girl threw her arms up in the air and did a twirl. “Gilly-bean!”

Lucy stared at the girl. “I don’t understand,” said Lucy. “What happened?”

“Magic!” Gil said. She stuck out her hip, waiting for Lucy to react. But Lucy didn’t say anything—she didn’t know what to say. Gil pushed her lips into a pout. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what you’re here about.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gil narrowed her eyes. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Have you been to see Tristan yet?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“So then you know what I did.”

“You mean what you said?”

“What I said when?”

“Wait, what are we talking about?”

Gil laughed again. “I don’t know, Luce, why don’t you tell me.”

“I went to see Tristan,” Lucy said. “I was planning to use the powder on him. But I ended up not doing it. It didn’t seem right.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. She looked, Lucy thought, the tiniest bit relieved. “But then what’s the problem?”

Lucy closed her eyes. She could feel Tristan’s arms around her. She opened her eyes and looked at Gil. “Tristan told me that he’d been planning to let his feelings for me fade, that he was just going to ignore them until they went away, but then something
you
said made him change his mind. So what I want to know is, what was it? What did you tell him?”

Gil shrugged. “I just told him the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“The truth about you and him,” Gil said slowly. “That you
could
fall in love with him.” Gil smirked. “Well, not anymore, of course, but, you know, back then.”

Lucy’s heart lurched and she felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” she said. Lucy had a sudden urge to reach out and grab Gil. To shake her and shake her until that pleased little smile shook loose from her face. “You’re lying.”

Gil shook her head. “People lie. But magic never does. You remember how I said I was using the Love Lines potion, and that’s how I found out that Alex would never
love you back? Tristan came to meet you after class that day, and I saw everything. It was just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky?”

“For you, because you got to be a Heartbreaker. And then, of course, lucky for me because . . .” Gil gestured toward her face.

“And how exactly did that happen?” Lucy asked.

Gil pursed her lips, opened her eyes wide, and looked up to the side in mock innocence. “I don’t know, Lucy. You tell me.”

“How can I tell you?” Lucy said. “I don’t even know what’s going on.” Only then, all at once, she did. “Olivia said Diamonding Powder was supposed to be as versatile as a diamond. It could be used to give someone a diamond-strong heart . . .”

“Or,” Gil finished, “a diamond’s beauty.”

Hands shaking, Lucy pulled the goddess head out of her pocket, the vial she’d been so carefully guarding. She pulled the stopper out and stared down into the little golden space.

There was nothing there.

“Oh my god,” Lucy whispered. She looked up.

“I’m sorry, Lu,” Gil said. But she didn’t even bother trying to sound it.

“I broke Colin’s heart for
this
? So you could become really
pretty
?” Lucy leaned against the door frame. Her body did not want to hold her up anymore. “When you left the vial while I was in the shower, had you . . .”

“It was already starting to do its thing,” Gil said, nodding. “But I needed to make sure no one saw me because it hadn’t finished taking effect. And at that point someone still could have stopped me.”

Lucy could barely breathe. “Did you ever actually plan on helping anyone?”

Gil rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

Lucy blinked. “You’re like an entirely different person,” she said. “It’s not just the looks. You don’t even seem like you anymore.”

“I guess all that stuff they say about it being dangerous to leave one person alone with too much power is kinda true.” She let out a laugh. “I really did want to help Liza’s sad mommy, at first. Okay? But then I spent all that time with Beacon. And I just started thinking, well,
why
?
She is
sad, sure, but whose fault was that really?”

“You said it was no one’s fault,” Lucy said.

“Well, what do I know? I worked
hard
for this. I earned it!” Gil paused. “Look, I know that you probably feel a little annoyed right now, but I’ll make it up to you, okay? I realize I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you, and I haven’t forgotten that. Next time you want a couple of extra tear vials, you just let me know. I’ll tell you how to break into the safe.” Gil smiled at Lucy. It was not a cruel smile or a spiteful smile. It was just a smile that said,
I’ve gotten what I wanted. And nothing else matters.
“Besides, you didn’t even want to use the powder on Tristan anyway. So it’s really no biggie, right?”

Gil stood staring at her, waiting for an answer. But Lucy just shook her head, picked up her bike, and climbed on.

Lucy knew what she should be feeling at that moment—what the old Lucy would have felt: anger, sadness, fear, regret, worry—but instead, she felt nothing but the wind on her cheeks and deep in her gut the slightest tickle of
understanding that maybe somewhere along the way she had made a giant unfixable mistake.

Twenty-Four

L
ucy was home.

The lights were on inside. Lucy opened the door. The house was completely silent.

Lucy walked up the stairs, numb. She thought about how it had once seemed so wonderful that there was magic in the world, but she could not at that moment feel even a tiny shred of that delight.

At the top of the stairs Lucy realized her parents’ door was open. They were inside, speaking quietly to each other. Lucy stood there for a minute, just staring. They were taking items out of her dad’s dresser and putting them in
suitcases. “Maybe these should go in the bigger one,” her mom said. She was holding up a pair of Lucy’s father’s khakis. “That way they won’t get as wrinkled.”

Her father nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s a good idea.” His voice sounded different than she had ever heard it. It was like she was watching strangers, strangers to herself and to each other.

Lucy knocked on the open door. Her parents turned in unison. Their eyes looked sad, and they both smiled these complicated smiles that Lucy did not understand.

“Hey, honey,” said her mom.

Her dad said, “Come in for a minute.” He pushed the door open wider. Lucy had a sudden crazy overwhelming urge to run, far away from them, from everyone and everything. She did not know where she would go, though, because, she realized as she stared at her parents, there
was
nowhere to go. There never was. Putting more space between her and this and whatever they were going to say next wouldn’t make it less real—it wouldn’t even make it further away. She’d bring all of it right along with her.

Lucy stepped inside. Her mom motioned, and Lucy sat in the chair by the window.

“We know we’ve said a number of times in the past . . . ,” her dad started.

Her mom continued, “. . . so if you don’t believe us at first, we understand.”

“But we want you to know that we’ve had a long talk, and this time we’re quite serious.” Her dad was looking at her mom now.

And then they both nodded, looked straight at Lucy, and said, “We’re getting divorced,” her mother first and her father right after, their words overlapping.

Lucy felt nothing.

“Oh,” Lucy said. “Wow.”

What was she supposed to be feeling? Sadness? Anger? Relief? She tried to form her face to match the appropriate emotion. But inside, she was completely blank. She knew there was such a thing as shock, that sometimes when something really bad happened it took a while to sink in. When she was eight, she saw her neighbor’s dog get hit by a car and die right in front of her house. She still remembered the yelp of pain, the helpless look in the dog’s eyes, the feeling of floaty calm that overtook her as her mother rushed her inside, made her tea, wrapped her in a blanket as though she was the one who’d collided with that dark green station wagon. She had not felt anything, anything at all, until later that night in bed, when she started shaking and could not stop. She knew the detached self-protective calm that surrounds people after painful things happen. But this was not that—this was something else entirely.

“Are you okay?” Her mother came and put her arm around Lucy. Her father stood on the other side. “We know this must be a big surprise for you,” her mother said. “I mean, the fact that we’re actually doing this. But we got to talking the other night. We had an actual rational friendly discussion about this for the first time, well, maybe ever. And we realized it was just the best thing for everyone. . . .” She turned to Lucy’s father, and he nodded.

“This was probably something we should have done a long time ago,” her dad said. “We just couldn’t quite figure out how. We hope you can understand.” He smiled sadly.

“I can,” Lucy said. “I mean, I agree with all of that.” But her words sounded funny to her—like someone else was saying them.

Lucy’s mom gave her a hug and then excused herself and went downstairs. Lucy sat there with her dad as he continued to pack. He was taking socks out of his drawer, balling them in pairs, and putting them in his suitcase. She watched as he paired up an unmatched set, one black, one navy. Lucy knew that this was the type of detail that would have wrecked her in the past, the idea of her dad, off on his own with his wrong socks, and no one to help him right them. But in that moment she felt only afraid. A brief flash of fear, and then nothing.

Twenty-Five

L
ucy remembered the first time she’d stood outside these enormous oak doors, when it had sounded as though there was an entire ocean behind them and everything that was about to happen hadn’t happened yet. She remembered how scared she’d been then, how behind that fear there was hope. But what about now? What did she feel? What was left?