Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,42

letters.

“I haven’t seen them since Hilltop,” Ettie says.

In my head I am kissing Andrew in the ocean.

“Let him come,” I say and shake my hair back over my shoulders. “I’m tired of being upset about Tucker.”

“This new optimism wouldn’t have anything to do, per se, with a guy named Andrew, would it?”

She’s finally getting to what I know she has been dying to talk about. “How is he, anyway?”

Ettie thinks Andrew is seventeen. I shaved off two years when she asked. Whatever. I’m sixteen (okay, barely); he’s nineteen. It’s not a huge deal. He’s still a teenager, technically.

A small voice, deep down, asks, then why are you lying about it?

That small voice replies: And what’s worse? He doesn’t know the truth.

Scarlett joins Dad at the table. They examine a subway map of New York City. I ignore Ettie’s question and switch subjects.

“The dress they bought me for Scarlett’s party looks like a frosting factory exploded on some pink fabric.”

I glance to see if anyone is checking up on me. I’m far enough away at the end of the patio, but I whisper anyway.

“And next time I see Andrew, I’ll wear the dress Scarlett got. It’s short and black.”

Ettie’s silent.

“I have to tell my mom I need to stay out until midnight. I’ve never had to worry about a curfew before. I don’t know how many times I can convince Andrew I have to ‘do something in the morning.’” I make air quotes even though Ettie can’t see them.

I know what it means when she’s so quiet. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, though I can tell it’s something.

“Spill it, Ettie.”

“Seems like a lot of stuff to be manipulating just to see a guy.”

“He’s not just a guy, and I’m not manipulating him.”

“Do you know what will happen if Scarlett finds you in her clothes again? She’ll kill you and you’ll never see Andrew again. You got away with the bikini, but how are you going to pull off a fancy dress?”

I thought about showing up to that party at the restaurant in the cupcake dress. I wouldn’t even look sixteen. I’d look twelve. If I wore the black sandals I have and Scarlett’s dress, that would look perfect. I’d look older. More sophisticated. And I could continue the Scarlett Experiment.

“Bean?” Ettie says.

“Yeah,” I say, coming back to the moment.

“Did you hear anything I said for the last two minutes?” I’m quiet, and Ettie sighs.

“If you do wear it, steam clean it in the bathroom when you get home,” she says. “Hang it up and run the shower. It’ll get rid of any smells or wrinkles after you wear it.”

“Since when are you a stealth mode expert?”

“Movies. TV. Summerhill girl’s bathroom.”

“Excellent.”

When we hang up, my plan is set.

I can’t stop what is going on with Andrew, I don’t even know how it started.

And either way, I don’t want to.

I head upstairs to get dressed before we go to the Lobster Pot for dinner. I’m zipping up my jeans when Scarlett steps into the doorway.

“Ahem . . .” She dangles by her fingertips a small brown bag with lime green paper handles.

“Yes?” I say and cross my arms over my chest. I still hate her for not defending me at the dress shop.

She comes in and sits on the bed. She lifts the brown bag.

“Happy Birthday,” she says.

I sit down too and face her directly.

“You got me something?”

“Don’t I always?”

Well, yeah, now that I think about it, she does.

I scoot next to her and take the small bag. I reach in and wrap my fingers around a slim glass bottle.

“Wow. I should get you stuff more often. Look at that smile,” Scarlett says.

The crystal bottle of Egyptian Musk lies in the palm of my hand.

“Your perfume,” I say, my cheeks warm. Mom must have told her about the other night. “I only wore it that one time.”

“What time?”

Oops.

“The other day,” I admit.

She sighs. “Ask me when you borrow my things, please.”

“How did you know I liked it?” I ask.

“You smelled it at home, like, ninety times. And I do live with you, dork.”

I didn’t know she saw me do that. I didn’t think she noticed me very much at all.

“I ordered it online and had it sent to me. I didn’t think it would come in time.”

The perfume bottle glints from the track lighting above.

“Thank you,” I say and curl my fingers around the little vial instead of hugging my sister. I think she might embrace me, right then. But she doesn’t. She