I’m never going to convince Aubrey, or her stupid, judgmental, holier-than-thou family.
“I’m not saying that, JL. But he has done stuff. It’s not rumors. It’s the truth.”
“So what?” So what if Max isn’t a saint? So what if he drinks a little and gets stoned? This isn’t middle school. Half the kids in high school get stoned. Hell, my stupid parents get stoned.
Screw the Anderssons. How do her parents even know about my mother? Because whatever Aubrey knows, whatever I’ve told her, she was sworn to secrecy. I told her in confidence, because I was worried. She promised not to tell.
“People talk,” she had said.
What people? Who? Screw them, too. I’m done with everyone. Everyone can go to hell, but Max.
“JL, please—” I shake my head. “You’re right. Don’t go. Let’s talk about this. I—I don’t know what to do.”
“Forget it, Aubrey!” I call over my shoulder. “No worries. You’re off the hook. You and your family are rid of me.”
When she calls my name again, I don’t even think about turning around.
LATE MAY
TENTH GRADE
Mom is still in my room, sitting in front of the habitat, unmoving, as if she is meditating or something.
Does she meditate now?
I have no idea what she’s doing.
“Mom?”
“You’re back,” she says, not turning. “I’m so relieved.”
She is?
“Yeah, I went for a walk. Are you—?”
People talk … It’s not your fault … It’s … Your mom—
“Yes. Yes, of course I am.”
“Are you okay? is what I mean, Mom. Not relieved.” Her constant confusion crushes me.
“Yes. I know. And sure. But I’m worried for you. You’re my girl. I love you. I want you to be happy.” Her words make me uneasy. There’s something stilted and off about them, like she’s saying them, but they’re not quite hers.
I walk over and sit on the floor next to her.
The smell of her still-damp hair, her lotions and perfume, fills me with this distant, uneasy memory. I’m little, maybe five or six, and we’re sitting at her vanity looking in her mirror. She’s made room for me on the bench next to her while she puts on her makeup, her jewelry. She picks up a small black bottle with gold letters and holds it out to me in the palm of her hand. The light sparkles off the glass, making it look almost purple.
“This one your father bought for me when we went to Paris,” she says. “Hundreds of dollars per ounce. It’s made from real jasmine and styrax.”
I don’t know what either of those things are, but they sound special and rare and exotic. She takes the cap off and puts a tiny dab behind each of my ears, and on the front of my neck. The smell is cloyingly sweet and singes my nostrils.
“According to Cleopatra,” my mother says, “jasmine is the scent of seduction. It makes men want you.” She puts a dab behind each of her own ears, in the hollow of her throat, and runs her finger down between the crease of her breasts. “Men have always been drawn to women’s perfume.”
I squirm on the seat, pick up a lipstick, and hold it out, a question. “Go ahead,” she says. “You can put it on.”
I trace my lips, wondering how she keeps it so neat and perfect when she does it. Not that she wears makeup much. Only when she and Dad are going somewhere special.
“Legend has it, Cleopatra coated the sails of her boat with her perfume as she was returning to shore, in order to lure Marc Antony to her.” She leans in to me and whispers this next part as if it’s some sort of secret between us. “It worked for your father.” But the cloying smell of the perfume still makes me want to gag.
Now she squeezes my hand, her slim fingers over my own. “I’ve been sitting here, the whole time you were gone, watching them,” she says. “They’re so beautiful. I don’t know why I haven’t come in to see them sooner. These are the ones Nana picked out, yes? These clear ones?”
“Yes.” I’m surprised she remembers, that she’s been paying attention at all. Maybe she’s not as bad off as I think—as bad off as Aubrey and her family believe.
People talk, JL …
Maybe she’s really okay, or the medicines are starting to do their job.
She moves closer and runs her fingers down the mesh of the habitat. “Tell me again what they’re called.”
I swallow hard, mad at myself for nearly falling for it, this trick where she