The Girl Who Fell (26 page)

I wave my hand toward the empty rooms, showcase-style. “No distractions here.” Under the table, Finn plants his chin onto my feet.

“Alone time is good for a girl your age. I don't think I got enough of that when I was young.” She twirls her key ring around her index finger creating a quick, chaotic jingle. “Course, I had you.” She smiles, bends to give me a kiss. “I wouldn't trade that for the world. But you'll have plenty of time to meet boys at college. You and Alec shouldn't get too serious.”

Too late. I shift my feet, which makes Finn grunt with displeasure. “What time's court?”

“Just a meeting with the judge. Four o'clock.” She looks at her watch. “I'm running late, but don't expect me home before seven. Judge Matheis can
talk
.” She throws a wink and I laugh.

“Good luck.”

“I'll need it. Or earplugs.” Mom goes to her study and returns with a stack of folders she balances across her elbow. “I love you, kiddo.” And then she is gone.

“Luf too,” I call at the same time Finn snores out a soft whistle.

And in the quiet Mom leaves behind I should be able to focus entirely on midterms, but my head scrambles with invasive thoughts.

If Gregg's restless on home confinement and if Lani's with him, nursing him. The thought brings a bizarre jealousy that tastes bitter and wrong. Then there's Boston College not even bothering to send any communication. At all. And Alec being too far away next year while Dad's here and still so far away. I don't know which worry threads to drop and which to hold. I'm so wrapped up in my head I don't even hear the car approach.

Just the doorbell.

And I jump.

Finn too.

For a moment—or maybe much longer than a mere moment—I stand frozen, holding on to the back of my chair for support. It's my father. Mom told me he'd be coming around while I was at school, collecting more things from his studio. My heart pounds, the air feels too hot, too still.

Finn yelps out a loud, vicious bark.

I could pretend I'm not home. Disappear into my room. He wouldn't come looking for me.

Finn barks again, this time in rapid succession. He is determined, deafening. He crouches in front of the door and scrapes at the base with his claws.

This is stupid. I should just answer the door. Invite Dad in. See him. Deal with this now since there will probably never be a perfect time.

But as my hand turns the doorknob I feel weak, like I've forsaken any control I might have.

I open the door a crack and turn to the table. I swallow hard.

Behind me, Finn barks louder, which pleases me since I want him on my side, not Dad's.

“Hello?”

That's when I realize it's not my father's voice. I whip around and see Alec in the doorway, holding a foil-wrapped dish.

“Alec?” I cringe at how I must look in my Boston College sweatshirt and ratty sweatpants. I'm wearing zero makeup and my hair is a rat's nest with at least one pencil sticking out of it.

“Isn't this the part where you ask me in?”

“Of course. Yeah. Come in.”

He steps across the threshold, hefts the plate. “I owe you edible eggplant parm.”

“You don't owe me anything.” I peek down at Finn, who growls. “Be kind, Finn!” If Finn could only know how much Alec's done for him.

“He looks good,” Alec says.

“Yeah, and I'm going to pay you back. I promise.”

“The money's not important.” He waves away my concern. “I wanted to help.”

I blush, overwhelmed by his commitment. It's almost enough to forget I look like a horror show.

“I hope you're hungry.” He peels back the foil from a corner of the plate. Steam rises. “Good. Still hot.”

“You or the food?”

His eyes widen. “Both, I hope.”

I chin-nod toward the plate. “The verdict's still out on the eggplant.”

He grabs my wrist, locks his gaze onto mine. He kisses me roughly.

I pull away, breathless. “Alec, we can't. What if my mother comes back?”

He rakes his hand through his hair. “She won't. I watched her pull out.”

Panic nudges me. “Did she see you? Were you in the driveway?”

“Of course not. I waited on the street. Very clandestine.”

“Stalker.”

“Just being careful.”

“Good. She thinks I'm studying.”

“Not anymore.” His wink causes a corkscrew of want to churn through me. How can I be expected to focus on Milton or quadratic equations when I have this boy in my life? He gives me a long, deep kiss, bolts his hips to mine.

When I can barely stand, he sets me into a chair, moves my books to make room for place settings. “I hoped you'd be home. I didn't want this meal to go to waste.” He insists I sit while he fumbles around the kitchen for utensils. He opens all the drawers. Finds what he needs.

He places a serving in front of me and I pull in a deep, delicious breath. “You're spoiling me.”

“You deserve it.”

I scoop a forkful of eggplant and take a bite. It is soft and perfectly spiced. “Oh my god, this is
phenomenal
!”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” I chunk out another bite.

“You might be biased.”

“Yeah, but this is reality show cook-off awesome.”

“I need you to always believe in me.”

I tap on the dish. “Feed me like this and I'll forever be your biggest fan.”

“Deal.” He smiles. “I have one more thing for you, Zephyr.”

I lower my fork, setting it softly to the edge of the plate. “More? Okay, I'm officially spoiled.”

A gleam jumps to his eye. “Wait here.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

While Alec's outside, my mind stretches with possibility for what his gift might be. And then, too quickly, guilt invades for not surprising him with tokens of my love. I wish I knew how to be a better girlfriend. I wish all of this came to me as easily as it does to Alec.

Then I hear his car door slam and when he returns, Finn barks at Alec as if they've never met.

“Enough Finn!” I scold. He slinks to the living room.

Alec comes to the table with a stack of papers. Mail?

“I checked the mailbox for you on my way in. Hope that's okay.”

“Of course!” My concentration slips to the one large white envelope. The familiar maroon crest peeks out from underneath the cable bill. I reach for the packet slowly. The seal comes into full view. Maroon and white letters. Boston College.

I look to the addressee: “Miss Zephyr Marie Doyle.”

Breath abandons my lungs.

“It looks meaty.” I hear his hope, louder than his words.

I rub the cool, slick envelope between my fingers. Would Boston College waste all this paper on a student they didn't want? I tear the flap and reach inside. There is a letter and a thinner version of my coveted brochure. My fingertips numb. My eyes cloud with tears, but I blink them away to read the first line:

“We are pleased to offer you . . .”

I gasp, then scream. Finn lets out two low, guarded barks.

My heart soars and calms in harmony, a tightrope of extremes. I am holding the end of limbo in my very hands. I own my future. My dream realized. My body floats weightless as I press the envelope to my chest. “I thought it would never come!” Alec's arm pulls around my shoulders.

When I slide out the brochure I half expect I'll see my picture on the front cover, my step caught in midflight, but of course it is that other girl. And for the first time I'm not jealous. She can have that floating step; I will have everything beyond. The classrooms, the dorm rooms, Faneuil Hall, the T, the Head of the Charles, and Boston Common.

“I'm so happy for you, Zephyr.”

“Yeah?”

He collects me to him, locks my gaze. “Of course.”

“But you're not . . . I don't know, upset?”

“How could I be?”

Because Michigan and Boston are so far away. Nine hundred miles to be exact. A $435 round-trip plane fare. “Because Boston College isn't in Michigan.”

He smiles. “I could never be mad at you for accomplishing your dreams. No matter where they take you.”

I snuggle against Alec. I breathe him in, the spearmint and sweat and this new, earthy smell we make together with our heat. I could close my eyes, fall asleep in his arms, and live in him forever. It's a dream, I know. But so was Boston College and I got that, didn't I?

He peels me from our embrace, stands to leave. “I should leave. You probably have a million people to tell. Call me later?”

“I will.” I squeeze my letter to my core. “Thank you so much.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For supper. For bringing me this letter. It's all just so perfect.”

He gives me a small smile. “Perfect,” he repeats and I listen to his footsteps, know the measure of his gait as he walks to the door. He turns. “I'm proud of you, Zephyr.”

I go to my room and drop onto bed to reread the letter. About eight times. I imagine being a Boston College Eagle, playing field hockey on their lush grounds, college crowds cheering in a sea of maroon. Wind tunneling under my wings as I fly.

And for the first time since Dad left, I feel like I'm capable of anything.

Everything.

I'll decorate my dorm room. I'll buy that down comforter I saw online last week. And crates. Cool ones to stack books and shoes and records.

I read my acceptance letter again, committing it to memory. I read it aloud to Finn as he curls against the back of my knees. He coughs at one point, as if he's a cat trying to heave up a hairball. I'm momentarily worried, but he settles. “You okay boy?” He snuffles his reply.

I pat his head, kiss his soft velvet-fur temple.

I smile to myself. My excitement is too big to be crimped by worry or unexpected problems.

Orientation begins August 24. I'll have to choose a single or double room if I'm going to live on campus. I have to send back my commitment letter by December 15. Next week. It is a dream. No, better. A doorway to a dream. And I hold the key.

•  •  •

I meet Mom at the door when she gets home. I fall into her, let her squeeze all her happiness into me now since I had to give her the news over the phone.

“We must have cake!” She sets down her bags and goes to the freezer. Somewhere behind a box of hyacinth bulbs, she finds what she's looking for. “I froze this for when you heard. I had my suspicions it might be earlier than you were letting on.” The cake is decorated with the Boston College crest and reads
CONGRATULATIONS!
around the edges in the same font the college uses on their sweatshirts and other official logos. “I told you Boston College would think you're as perfect as I do.”

It's amazing the way Mom's been able to believe in me, even when I couldn't.

Mom tries unsuccessfully to insert a candle into the rock-hard frosting.

“Microwave,” I suggest.

“You can't microwave a frozen cake. We can wait.”

I'm through waiting. “If there's one thing my friendship with Lizzie has taught me, it's how to manage sugar.” I set the cake into the microwave and cook it for one minute. When I take it out, the top is just soft enough to insert a candle, which Mom lights.

“Make a wish.” Pride radiates from Mom's smile. Her joy makes me realize my acceptance into Boston College—the realization of my goals—is an accomplishment for her, too.

I wish for more of what I already have: this feeling of floating, of invincibility. I blow hard and the flame disappears.

“This is only the beginning,” Mom tells me.

And I feel that. In my bones. Stitched into my every breath.

I text Lizzie to meet me at my locker before school the next day.

“You look happy.” She leans against my neighbor's locker. “I take it you have good news?”

I shove my textbook onto the high shelf and hang my bag. “The hugest news.” I close the door, secure the latch.

“Alec asked you to marry him?”

“Hilarious, but no. I heard from Boston College.” I beam. “Class of 2020.” My excitement is a wild horse stampede, beyond my control.

“Ho. Lee. Shit!” Lizzie punches my arm. “I told you that stuffy institution would want a fresh breath of Zee.”

“Hah. Seriously though, it's crazy.” I want to tell her so much more. About Alec. About losing my virginity. Planning a future with him. But maybe this is the way limbo works. Maybe parts of me have already moved on without her.

“I think it's supposed to be crazy. Like, crazier than we can even imagine. That's the shit that keeps us mortals wanting more, no? The thrill of the emotional high.” She throws her arm around me and the weight of her hug is so much more than just an embrace; it is years of holding each other up. Only now, we're holding on.

“Doyle!” A voice booms, forcing Lizzie and me to break apart. I feel lopsided without her. Lizzie eyes Coach as she storms toward me. “Maybe I should go.” Lizzie winks. “In case she plans on reading you the riot act.” Coach's specialty.

“Okay, I'll catch up with you in trig.”

Coach reaches me and I take a step back, expecting her to shove her face in mine like she's been doing on the sidelines for four years. It's a surprise when she speaks with gathered calm. “I assume it was something important that kept you away from accepting our trophy.” Alumni Weekend. God, that seems like forever ago.

Then guilt floods. For letting her down. For letting my team down.

“Your team missed you.”

“I wish I could have been there.”

“We all do. This was your team, Doyle.” She rubs the whistle at her neck. “So this is it, huh?”

“You could come see me play in Boston if I'm lucky enough to make the team.”