The Wild One (28 page)

I take a deep breath. This is going to be hard.

“Julia, you and Dad have always told me what to do with my life.”

Julia opens her mouth to interrupt, and I hurriedly continue.

“No, I think I wanted you to, you know, I liked it. It felt safe. But you can't know what's best for me. Only I can figure that out. That's why I've had such a wild summer. That's why I quit working at the preschool and was messing around with Joe. I was just … figuring life out for myself.”

Julia frowns at me. “So what are you telling me? You're now moving back to Rochester and becoming a preschool teacher again because you figured out life for yourself?”

“No. I'm not going back to Rochester. When I thought I wanted to, I was just scared. I thought maybe I could just go back to the old me. But I've changed, Julia.”

“We all have,” she says. “We've been living here for a year. It's a long time.”

I nod. “I know what I want to do now … I want to go to NYU.”

“Wow…” Julia stares at me. “That is huge. Are you sure?”

I tell her all about Professor Guffey. About how I'm sure that my future lies somewhere beyond this, that one day I'll figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I need to go back to college in order to do that. I tell her how I felt when I was in class. Like a light had gone on inside me.

Julia nods. “I understand. That's how I felt at work sometimes. Like that's exactly where I'm meant to be.”

“Right!” I say.

We smile at each other for a second.

“Something else. I know you think Joe is a loser. But”—I take a deep breath—“I love him, Julia. I really do. He's the best person I know. Outside of you and Maddy and Angie and Pia, obviously.”

“I don't think he's a loser,” Julia says slowly. “I was hard on him, but I don't really know him. And I didn't want you to get hurt, Cuckoo.”

“If I'm going to get hurt, then that's just the way it is. I've been hurt, and I've survived. And if it happens again, I'll be okay. I'm in charge of my life, and if that means making mistakes, then that's my choice. You have to stop protecting me.” I say it as gently as I can.

“Why would I think I could protect you? I can't even protect myself from getting fired,” she says sadly.

I squeeze her hand.

“So are you and Joe, like, an official thing now?”

“No.” I bite my lip to stop myself from crying. “I broke up with him this morning.”

“You love him so you broke up with him?” Julia arches an eyebrow.

“I didn't realize how I felt when I … never mind. The point is, I want to go to the Potstill Prom tonight, and apologize, and hope that he'll forgive me.”

“Do you think he will?”

“That's just it,” I say. “I don't know.”

Julia looks me up and down. “Well, I hate to go all Fairy Godmother on you, but you can't go to the prom looking like that.”

I grin. My sister can always make me smile.

She picks up her phone.

“I'm booking you a hair appointment. And I'm calling the girls. And we're going to make you a goddamn prom queen.”

 

CHAPTER
36

“Wow,” says Pia, when I walk into her bedroom later. “Like … big wow.”

I'm wearing a silver dress that Angie picked up for me from the design studio. She dropped it off and then went back to Sam's apartment with him, promising to meet us at Potstill later. I've never seen her so happy. She was smiling so wide, I could see her molars.

And this dress is better than I could ever have dreamed. It's one of those dresses that make you feel willowy and gorgeous, so then you act willowy and gorgeous. I paired it with some silver heels of Pia's that are high enough to make me tall but not so high that I can't walk.

I keep thinking about Joe.

About all the times he's been kind and supportive, not just to me but to my friends too. How he always made me feel better about myself. How much he made me laugh. How it made me happy to make him happy.

I was so wrong about him. I thought he was a fast-talking, flirtatious player and used to the rough-and-tumble of the friends-with-benefits game. I thought he was arrogant, just because he was confident and funny.

I am the worst judge of character in the history of the damn world.

And now that I look back … I can see that Joe actually cared about me.

When we very first met, sure, he flirted with Angie, but when I really think about it … from the time we had that moment on the stoop of Rookhaven, he only wanted me. He encouraged me, he believed in me. He was kind and sensitive and honest.

And he was right.

I am an asshole.

And now here I am, in this amazing silver dress, my hair done, Pia putting the finishing touches on my makeup, about to go to the Potstill Prom to ask him to forgive me.

Julia is giving me a pep talk, lounging on Pia's bed with her laptop, while she updates her LinkedIn profile.

“So you just need to meet his eyes. You say, ‘Dude, I fucked up. My bad. I think—'”

“Christ, she loves a pep talk,” Pia whispers, applying illuminator to my face as a final touch.

Thank God, Julia stops focusing on me a moment later. “I think I'm going up upgrade my LinkedIn to Premium. Do you think it's worth it?”

My God, I'm nervous.

I know it's immature of me, and I know that it's not a real prom, but in a weird way, this buzz of nerves reminds me of getting ready for my actual prom back in high school. That feeling that anything might happen. Then again, at my real prom I wore an ugly green-and-black dress that I bought because it fit, not because I liked it, and my night ended in tears and misery because Eric slept with my ex–best friend. But that won't happen tonight.

I just hope he forgives me.

Pia and Julia are coming, of course. Not just to support me, but for Madeleine. Ian James is coming tonight; this could be her big chance to be discovered.

“Personality drink?” says Pia, offering me a glass of wine.

I shake my head. “I need to stay sharp.”

“I don't,” says Julia, slugging the entire glass in one gulp. “I've already warned Peter the Magnificent he'll be carrying me home later. More wine, please.”

I clear my throat. “So how about I say: ‘Joe, I'm so sorry. I totally love you too…' No, that's stupid.”

“How about, ‘My sister is an asshat and clouded my judgment'?” suggests Julia.

“Jules, you may be an asshat, but you're
our
asshat,” says Pia.

“I can't blame you, Jules,” I say. “It was my fault. My life, my choices, my fault.”

The front door slams. It's Madeleine. We all exchange a look, and then I quickly stand up and run out to the front hallway.

“Maddy!” I say, just as she's about to go up the stairs.

She glances at me warily and stops.

“Please hear me out, Madeleine,” I say. “I'm so sorry I told everyone about your private life. And I'm sorry it took me so long to apologize. I guess I was scared that you hated me, which is so dumb I know, but hey! That's me. And … I'm sorry. You were my friend and I let you down.”

Madeleine gives a wry half smile.

“That's okay.”

We gaze at each other for a second. Should I hug her? Madeleine isn't one for hugging, historically.

“I'm really excited about your set at the Potstill Prom tonight,” I say eventually. “I hear you have some great new songs. And can you believe Ian James is coming?”

Maddy's face falls. “What?”

“Ian James! You know, the big music producer … guy?” I falter. “Joe didn't tell you?”

Madeleine looks like I just told her I killed someone. “Ian James?”

“Joe talked to him outside the Ace Hotel that time, and I found him and—”

Madeleine's eyes glaze over, and I see the color literally draining from her face. It's like seeing someone apply an Instagram filter in real life. Suddenly, she pushes roughly past me and runs upstairs to the bathroom. I run after her, but by the time I get there it's too late: she's locked herself in.

“Maddy?” I call. “Are you okay?”

All I can hear is the choked gurgles of someone puking.

“Hello?” I say. “Maddy? Open the door. I'll hold your hair back.”

There's a long pause.

“I'm going to kick open the door if you don't come out,” I say.

Then I hear the rare sound of Madeleine laughing. “Really?”

“I mean it,” I say. “I am surprisingly powerful. In my legs. I'm like a puma.”

“A puma?” Madeleine laughs more, and my stomach unclenches. Laughing is a good sign.

“Come out, Maddy, please?”

There's another pause, then I hear the latch click open, and Maddy steps out. She's very pale, almost translucent. She leans against the hallway wall and slides down to the ground. She looks so exhausted that suddenly I feel tired too and slide right down next to her, prom dress and all.

“Fuck, Coco,” she whispers. “I don't think I can do it. I feel nervous and wired and sick, my stomach hurts…”

“What did you eat today?”

She shrugs. “I had a green juice for lunch.”

“Seriously? That's not food. You don't eat enough.”

“I'm not a food freak or anything,” Madeleine says, reading my mind. “It's just that sometimes … I am so full of, um, feelings, I guess, that I feel like I can't put anything else in myself. Like I can't even swallow.”

“Is that also why you…” I don't know how to say it. “Can you show me your arms?”

Maddy sighs. “They're not really such a big deal. See? Just a few…” She rolls one sleeve up, and I see little white scars.

“You did that to yourself?” I say. “You wanted to hurt yourself?”

She nods, biting her top lip. “It made me feel better. Like I was letting the feelings out. Or something. I don't fucking know why it felt good, it just did.”

“I baked when I felt bad,” I say. “It was so reassuring to make something so pretty and yummy.”

“I like pretty and yummy things too,” she says. “I just feel bad when I let myself eat them. Like I don't deserve it. I should only eat things that I don't love.”

“You should be nicer to yourself.”

“So should you,” says Madeleine. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

“I never felt beautiful,” I say. “Except when I was with Joe.” I pause, thinking for a moment. Oh God, I hope he forgives me. “You're not going to hurt yourself again, right, Maddy?”

“I don't think so…” Maddy says quietly. “I don't know.”

“You don't need to let feelings out that way anymore,” I say. “You have music. You can sing, Madeleine. When you sing, everything stops.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I'm not
that
good.”

“You are!” I say. “Ian James already loves you. He saw you singing outside the Ace Hotel that night, and he thought you were amazing. He's coming tonight to see
you.
So all you have to do tonight is be yourself. He'll be blown away. I believe in you, Madeleine.”

Tears streak down her face as she turns to face me. “But what if
I
don't believe in me?”

“That's okay,” I say. “I believe in you enough for the two of us.”

She leans over and hugs me, the first real hug we've ever shared.

“Okay, I'll do it. I'll sing tonight. You know, Joe is lucky to have you.”

“Actually, he doesn't have me,” I say. “But I hope he will. With your help.”

 

CHAPTER
37

“Potstill Prom is perfect.”

Pia, Julia, Madeleine, and I pause, just after we walk in the doorway, and survey the crowded, already buzzing bar. Joe and I worked so hard for the last few weeks to get the prom decorations just right, and it paid off.

Pompom bubble garlands are strung across the ceiling. Blue fairy lights give the whole place an underwater glow. Seashells are scattered over every surface. Paper fish and coral and jellyfish stud the walls. There's a papier-mâché shark smiling happily from his vantage point above the bar. And Joe even managed to find a guy to deliver a load of perfect white sand.

The whole bar looks charmingly beachy, homemade and real, in this kind of smart-ass, funny way. It's very Brooklyn. And so as we walk in, at dusk on the night of the Potstill Prom, I just want to smile.

But I have to talk to Joe.

And I'm terrified.

The bar is already full of people—sorry, prom attendees. A few locals, people I recognize from their evenings in here over the summer. But this time, they've brought groups of friends. They've been part of the turnaround of Potstill, and they seem to have real pride in the bar.

There's a large group of girls I half remember from that night I got really drunk, and then a few couples on dates, and Julia's boyfriend—if that's what he is—Peter the Magnificent, and some of his friends.

Aidan is here too: he just flew in for the weekend and is waiting for Pia, along with Jonah, her old friend from the Italian restaurant she used to work at.

Madeleine goes straight to the stage, where the band is setting up. She kisses Amy hello quickly and then whispers to her band mates. Telling them about Ian James, I guess. They all look shocked. It's their big chance.

Then I look over to the bar, where Joe is serving drinks. My heart practically stops at the sight of him.

He's not alone. He hired someone else to help out for the night: a scruffy bearded guy that I think works at one of Gary's other bars. It's like I was never even here.

I timidly walk over and stand at one end, hoping Joe will notice me. But he doesn't look up. He's concentrating hard on making cocktails, but frowning so intensely that I can tell his mind is elsewhere. My stomach twists with nerves.