Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,48

pretend I never said anything and that somehow it could be spontaneously erased from Andrew’s mind. I forget sometimes that I even lied about my age. We haven’t really talked about it since that first day at Nauset.

I wonder immediately if Susie knows Scarlett. I am thankful yet again as I look across the table at Susie that Scarlett is going to be gone for a month. Somehow whenever anyone but Andrew asks about my “future” I get tongue-tied. Looking into the eyes of someone you are so blatantly lying to feels wrong.

Except when I lie to Andrew.

He likes me dressed in Scarlett’s clothes. He wants me to be going to MIT in the fall. I explain to Susie that astronomy is my passion and perhaps I’ll go on to work at NASA or SETI one day. Susie leans her chin on her hand.

“So interesting,” she says.

“There’s a meteor shower next month,” I say, happy I can actually keep talking about something that is patently true. “Perseid,” I explain. Susie’s skin is weathered. Even though her eyes tell me she’s younger, I see what hours upon hours in the sun have done to her skin. She asks me questions about the comet and my experiment. I glance at my cell—it’s 11:30 p.m.—the girl from the bathroom approaches the table.

“Hey, Suse,” the girl in the green dress says, but she’s looking directly at Andrew.

“Maggie!” Susie’s voice almost squeaks. She sounds like Mom whenever someone buys her a gift she really hates. “Sarah was telling us about a meteor shower next month.”

Andrew sips on his Coke and leaves his hand around my chair.

“Oh really?” Maggie looks me up and down. “We met in the bathroom. Did you buy that dress at Viola’s?” she asks me.

“I brought it from home.” Another lie, but it just flies out.

“Oh, you’re a tourist,” she says and crosses her arms. “Classy, Andrew.”

Her eyes narrow and I’m reminded of the popular girls at school, Becky Winthrop’s friends. Mean girls are apparently not included in the category of people influenced by the Scarlett Experiment.

“What was the name of the meteor shower again?” Susie asks me.

“Perseid,” I say, but it is hollow.

“. . . Fascinating,” Maggie drones. “Did you guys come from an event before this?” Maggie asks.

“No,” I say. Something is going on. Who is this girl?

My hands lie in my lap and Andrew’s fingers intertwine with my own. Maggie’s shoes are flip-flops with little blue gems.

Maggie is also in a summer dress.

So is Susie.

My cheeks warm. No one else is dressed like me. Oh my God. Scarlett says being overdressed is more embarrassing than having toilet paper stuck to your shoe. And I’m completely overdressed for this party.

Maggie smirking at me with her eyebrow raised.

A rush of heat throttles me.

Images rush through my mind:

Becky Winthrop.

Tucker.

The comet and that cupcake dress and a car for my birthday.

She needs more interests.

Change. Become someone else.

You gotta get a stronger backbone or people will walk all over you.

“Is this what girls do?” I blurt out. “To each other?” My words are short.

Maggie’s smile falls. I stand up and snatch my purse. Andrew stands up too. I almost take a step away, but I stop and ask Maggie, “I’m curious. Do you guys have some kind of online forum? Or newsletter that you send out? Because you’re good. You’re all the same. You know exactly how to make someone feel like complete shit. You’re like every single girl in my high school.”

Susie snickers and nudges the woman next to her.

“Excuse me,” I say and walk away.

“You’re a bitch, Mags,” Andrew says.

There’s the scrape of his chair and Susie says, “Andrew, give her a second.”

My whole body rattles. I’m vibrating head to toe as I march from the table and out of the Break Away.

I pull the sweater a bit tighter over my shoulders, but it’s not enough to stop the chills. Once I get to the parking lot, I catch a reflection of myself in a car window and roll my eyes. I lift my purse up to cover my cleavage.

I want to call Mom and Dad. It’ll make them feel better when I’ve asked to stay out so late. Maybe if I call them it will make me feel better to hear their voices.

“I told you I didn’t want to see or hear from you, Maggie,” I hear Andrew say from the top of the stairs. His anger makes his words sharp.

“Whatever, Andrew. That girl is a tourist. Who dresses like that