Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,95

my mouth all over him until I have to get a towel from the bathroom.

Now here I stand in front of the mirror in a strapless bra and panties.

This body. This girl. I am not who I was when I got here at the beginning of the summer. I am the girl yelling to the sky on the back of a dune buggy. The girl accepted by a group for the first time. I am the girl who wants to try the world outside of the biology lab. I still want to be in that bio lab, of course. I just want more. I want both.

“Bean!” Mom calls. I can barely hear her over the music and voices now echoing throughout the house. I leave the cupcake dress on the bed and slip on my new dress and delicate black heels.

I draw black liner that I bought from the makeup store down on Main Street along my eyelid. I sweep some bronzer over my already tanned cheeks. I click off the light and just when I step out, the doorbell rings for the first time. It keeps ringing as more and more guests arrive. Chatter and orders from the cooks make all the sounds jumble together.

I close my eyes. I can do this. The dress and Andrew. No problem.

“Mrs. Levin! This house!” Trish’s voice screeches up the stairs.

Tucker is here. My stomach fills with ice.

“We just have to take some pictures first, but Scarlett is waiting on the patio,” Mom says, and the door opens, letting in the live band’s rendition of Sinatra and the party chatter.

As the door closes, Scarlett cries, “Oh my God! Trish, I missed you!”

Step by step, I descend the stairs. I run my hands down the black cotton and lift my chin high. I step into the kitchen just as Nancy calls my name. I stop at the kitchen island and even though I am ready for it, my heart pounds.

Mom is outside with Dad, and I can’t see Tucker with all of the people moving around.

Nancy shuffles through the RSVPs and whines, “You’re annoyingly punctual. To the minute. Must you be late for the one evening I actually need you to be on time? It’s time for pictures. And—” She glances up.

I clench my jaw, cross my arms, and don’t move from next to the island.

“What is this? What the hell are you wearing? Maeve! Maeve, what is your daughter wearing?”

“My dress,” I say.

“Go change right this instant.”

Nancy walks away and when she realizes I’m not heading dutifully upstairs she turns.

“I am not going to be in a family photo in that dress,” I repeat. “I’m not going to be at this party in that dress.”

Nancy turns fully all the way around.

“What? We went over this.”

“You went over it,” I say and lean a hand on the counter. I don’t even see Nancy. I am the heat in my cheeks and the rapid zoom of my heart. “You always tell me what you think I need. You never actually ask what I want.”

“You don’t know—”

“Yes. I do know!” I yell and smack my hand on the granite countertop. It stings and radiates up to my wrist. “I know exactly what I want. Maybe you don’t like it or it doesn’t make sense to you, but it makes perfect sense to me.”

Nancy steps very close to me and the kitchen staff pretends like they don’t see this very public fight. Nancy breathes so hard through her nose, she’s like a bull.

“You will get up there and change,” she says and punctuates each word, “right now!”

“No!” I yell. A waitress stops filling a silver tray of puffed pastries when I yell but immediately goes back to what she was doing.

“Nancy! Bean!” Mom calls from outside. “The photographer has started taking pictures of the . . .” Mom’s words trail away and she stops next to Nancy. Her jaw drops when she catches sight of me.

Nancy brings her hand to her oversized chest and keeps shaking her head at me.

“I don’t understand you,” Nancy says. “You barely say thank you for what I do for you.”

I’m trembling.

“Why?” I ask and have to breathe heavily through my nose. “Why do you insist on telling me who I am?”

“Bean? What’s going on?” Mom asks.

“Damn it,” I continue yelling at Nancy. “If you would just listen to me you might know what to talk to me about!” I feel unhinged, like a telescope I can’t quite focus. I want to