When You Were Mine (21 page)

Len nods. “I understand,” he says. “But this all happened a long time ago.”

“This is why Juliet called my family backstabbers.” I sit back and hit my chair with a
thunk
. “She was right.”

“He must have had his reasons,” Len says gently. So softly, in fact, that I turn to look at him, just to make sure that he’s the one talking. He is.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “My parents still turned their backs on their family.”

“Did they?”

I throw my arms up and gesture toward the screen. “You just read it!”

Len takes a deep breath and speaks slowly, like he’s explaining arithmetic to me. “I just think there are many different definitions of ‘family,’ that’s all. Maybe the Montegs were your parents’.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. I know my parents. They’d rather be Switzerland than choose a side.”

“Being Switzerland has its own faults,” Len says. “Bad weather, for example.”

“And why have they never told me about this? That this was the reason Juliet’s family left town?”

Len is quiet.

“He won, you know,” I say. “Rob’s father was the mayor for four years when we were kids.”

“I know. I remember.” Len looks at me. “So Juliet’s family took off with their tails between their legs, huh?”

“Honestly,” I say, “I don’t really remember. I was barely seven.”

“Looks like a lot has changed.”

“All I know is that we were like sisters, and then they moved and she turned on me. But I’m sure her family hated us. Juliet must have felt it.”

I look at my father’s face on the screen—fresh, young, and excited. He’s standing with his arm around his brother, and they’re both smiling. They look almost like twins in their blazers and button-downs, clipped haircuts, and matching dimples.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “This is so not your problem.”

Len laughs. “Are you always this neurotic?”

I squeeze one eye shut and look at him. “Probably.”

“Look.” Len arches around and glances at the clock. “We only have, like, fifteen minutes left of class, and since I know you’re
going to make me do this assignment anyway, do you maybe just want to do it after school?”

Len volunteering to spend time with me in a nonacademic environment? Shocking. “Um, sure. Any chance you could come over, though? It’s been a long day, and I kind of just want to get out of here.” I loop my finger in the air to display crazy.

“No problem.”

I hike my bag onto the table next to the computer and pull out a pen. “Here. Let me give you directions.”

I tear off a piece of notebook paper and am touching the pen down when Len covers my hand with his. His touch startles me. “It’s cool,” he says. “I remember.”

“You’ve never been over before,” I say. I don’t have parties, and the only people who ever really hang out at my house are the six of us. Sometimes Lauren or John, but I could count the number of times on one hand.

“Yeah, I have.” A look flashes across his face for a split second, but it’s gone before I have a chance to register what it is. “My mom forgot to pick me up from Famke’s one time. Your mom let me wait at your house. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.”

He looks down at his textbook. “You were always outside when my lesson finished.” He looks up and smiles. “Sorry about that, by the way. I was probably terrible back then.”

I shake my head. “You were great. Listening to you play was my favorite part of lessons.” I can feel my cheeks turning red. I have no idea why I just said that. Beyond the fact that it’s sorta true.

He doesn’t seem thrown off by it, though. He just looks at me and says clearly, “Thanks.”

The moment stretches, and it’s long enough for me to realize that neither one of us is speaking. “Should we get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He flicks the screen off, and my dad’s face disappears.

We gather up our stuff and duck out the double lab doors. Len starts doing an impression of Mrs. Barch directing the Belgian. It’s hilarious. He’s actually pretty funny, and I would never admit this to Charlie, but I’m starting to see what Olivia meant. About him being cute, I mean. Not just striking but kind of adorable. Yeah, his hair is sorta long and he’s kind of a slacker, but he’s got this confidence. Like he just doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“I need to talk to you.”

I hiccup back a laugh and see Rob there. He looks frazzled, haphazard, like he’s not sure what he’s doing himself. Ben is there too, and he looks apologetic.

I just stare at Rob.

These are the first words he’s spoken to me in weeks.

“Hey,” Len says to me, “I’m gonna head to English. See you after school?”

Rob frowns and looks at Len. “What are you guys doing?”

That familiar smirk creeps back onto Len’s face, and he shakes his head slowly and mumbles something under his breath.

“I said I need to talk to you,” Rob says to me. His jaw twitches slightly.

“Hey,” Ben says. He puts a hand on Rob’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be late.” Rob shakes him off, and Ben looks at me. It’s the same look I see him give Olivia when she’s detailing a shopping failure. Like he really cares, but he just isn’t sure how to help. The truth is, neither am I. This is foreign territory. In all our years of friendship I’ve never seen Rob really, truly angry. The Rob I knew was sweet and kind and totally nonconfrontational. That’s not who’s standing here. I guess Juliet has turned him against me too.

“Look,” Len says, “maybe you should go.” He offers the suggestion casually, like he’s asking Rob if he wants a soda.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Rob says. He turns on Len and grabs his backpack. Ben again reaches for Rob’s shoulder, but Rob knocks him back.

“Are you crazy?” I say, trying to move between them. “Let go.”

“You’re going to fight for him now?” Rob bares his teeth like he’s some kind of wild animal. His eyes look burnt, cold. Like he’s been frozen out of his own body.

“I’m not fighting for anyone,” I say. “I’m not
fighting
at all.”

“It’s cool, man,” Len says. “Just relax.”

I can see Mr. Davis walking toward us. “Just stop it,” I plead. “Seriously. Stop.” But Rob’s not listening to me. And he won’t let Ben get close. He’s moved on from Len’s backpack and is now holding the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t tell me to relax,” he spits at Len. “You don’t know a thing about me. Or her.” Then in one clean sweep Rob uses his free hand to send a punch clear across Len’s face. Len stumbles back, and Rob just stares after him. He looks at his hand and then at Len and then at me. “I’m—” he starts, but it’s too late. Mr. Davis has seen everything, and he’s on Rob before Rob can get a second word out.

“What is going on here?” Mr. Davis demands.

Ben tries to step in and say something, but Mr. Davis dismisses him, rounding on Rob and Len. “Mr. Johnson’s office. Both of you. Now.”

He turns Rob around and starts marching him by the shoulders.

“Are you okay?” I whisper to Len. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s no big deal.” He smiles like he’s reassuring me. “Grab the homework, okay? We forgot to get copies.”

“Sure,” I say. “But are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll live.” He smiles, gives me a little salute, and follows
Mr. Davis, who is already halfway to Cooper House, his hands still on Rob’s sunken shoulders.

“I can’t stand that girl,” Olivia says. “She’s been trouble. Day one.”

We’re in calc, our last period of the day, and I’ve just told Olivia about the fight. Mostly on the corner of my notebook, because Mr. Stetzler is sort of a stickler about talking.

“Well, this one I’d pin on Rob,” I whisper.

“Whatever. It all goes back to her. Rob was totally sane until she came around. Now he’s picking fights, ditching his friends, and not talking to his parents?” Olivia is keeping one eye on Mr. Stetzler and the other on the Belgian, who is sitting to the far left of us. He doesn’t usually show up to class, but when he does, it’s enough to send Olivia into a tailspin. Matt has the same effect on Charlie. Maybe you never really get over the people you once dated, or cared about.

“He probably wants out at this point,” Olivia continues. “I’m sure he’s realized she’s completely psycho and high maintenance. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do now.”

“They’re not married,” I say. “He’s not under contract.” I’m drawing lazily in my notebook, doodling around our conversation. It’s always hot in the math cubicles, regardless of the time of year, which makes it incredibly difficult to focus. Mr. Stetzler also has this superdeep, intense voice, like a movie voice-over, and
it’s kind of hypnotizing. Not in a way that makes me want to flirt with him like Olivia does. Just in a way that makes me want to fall asleep facedown on my proofs.

“Yeah, but would he want that guilt on himself?”

“What guilt?”

Olivia tucks her hair back behind her ears. “She threatened to kill herself.”

I make a sound somewhere between a cough and a sneeze, and Mr. Stetzler looks over, frowning.

“That’s a rumor,” I say. The senior class has been buzzing today about Juliet overdosing on pills or something. But since no one can pin down an actual time or reason, I’m finding it hard to believe. “What reason does she have to kill herself? Her life is perfect.”

“Her boyfriend is still in love with his ex?” Olivia raises her eyebrows at me and puckers up her lips. I jam her with my elbow and bend back down over our assignment. I wish I could believe that were at all true.

“You know what else?” Olivia whispers. “She stole my flats. The new Tory Burch ones. She went and got them on preorder.”

“Juliet?”

Olivia is giving me a look like,
Please get there faster.
“Obviously,” she says. “Who else would be able to do that at this school?” She looks at me and bites her lip. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” I say.

Mr. Stetzler throws a pointed look in our direction, and we both make like we’re incredibly busy with a problem in our notebooks. When he goes back to lecturing, Olivia leans over. “I know I’m not supposed to be talking about her with you. Charlie made me swear—” The Belgian lets out a burp, and everyone starts laughing. Olivia scrunches up her nose and looks at me.

“Charlie made you promise
what
?”

“We just didn’t want to upset you,” Olivia says gently. “We just love you. And want you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” I say. “I’ve been okay for weeks.”

Olivia fiddles with the end of her pencil. It’s chewed down the same way her nails are. She likes to gnaw on things when she’s nervous.

“It’s still hard to lose a friend,” she says. She looks at me with her big blue eyes.

“You were telling me about Juliet,” I say, glancing away, because all of a sudden I think she’s talking about losing me. About the fact that I haven’t been around lately. Not really, anyway.

“Yeah,” she says, inhaling sharply. “I think she’s kind of sneaky. I mean, who goes to Barneys, looks up what I preordered, and then cuts in front of me on the list? Is that even legal?”

I’ve never really understood Olivia’s obsession with shopping. I mean, I like clothes, I guess, but I’ve just never been the
type of girl who wants to spend all day at the mall. For Olivia shopping is a profession. She’s incredibly talented at it, so I can see how someone beating her at her own game would really piss her off.

“It’s like she’s trying to take everything away from us,” Olivia says. “Stealing Rob from you just isn’t enough anymore.”

Mr. Stetzler is handing around the homework assignment, and when he gets to me, I don’t recognize a single problem on the list. We always work through half in class so we have “some models” to go off of, but today I took no notes.

“I didn’t hear a word of this class,” I say.

“Whatever,” Olivia says, taking a handout. “
Queso
at Cal Block?”

“I can’t.” Everyone is filing out the back, and Olivia and I follow. “I have a study session.”

“For what?”

“Bio,” I say. “Len’s coming over to help me out. Unless Mr. Johnson has him in detention or something.”

“Len, huh?” Olivia raises her eyebrows and shimmies her shoulders. “You two have been spending a lot of time together.”

My cheeks flush pink. “We’re
lab
partners,” I say, glancing away. “If I fail, it makes him look pretty crappy too.”

“Since when has he cared about grades? And the play—” The Belgian walks by, and Olivia arches her back so you can see a
small stretch of stomach. I don’t think it’s lost on him. He glances back, but Olivia is immersed in our conversation. Or at least she appears that way.

“I think thou doth protest too much,” Olivia says, giggling.

“You’re crazy.”

“I told you,” Olivia says as we make our way down the stairs. “I’ve always thought he was pretty cute.”

“He’s so sarcastic.”