Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,98

it’s knowing. But not even she knows the real truth. My lies are so layered that I have to keep track of which ones are consistent with specific people.

Scarlett sips her champagne flute and nods for me to follow her up the path.

“Scarlett!” Nancy’s voice now squeals over the party music.

Andrew keeps his hands in his pockets.

“You should have told me,” he says. “That was a big secret to keep.”

“Huge,” I say while walking backward to my sister. “I’ll be right back.”

He lifts his gaze to me and stops me by gently touching my forearm.

“It’s what I said about her, isn’t it? I called her,” he lowers his voice, “I called her a bitch at that party.”

“Hardly,” I say, even though I could use that justification easily. I can’t lie anymore. I just can’t say one more untrue thing. I step to Andrew and squeeze his hand. “There’s something else I have to tell you. I’ll be back,” I say and hurry after my sister toward a collection of photographers up near the tent.

The truth about MIT and my age won’t change who I am to Andrew. The truth of who I am when I am with Andrew is absolutely real.

Once we get next to the tent, the main photographer maneuvers us around so Nancy is sitting in a white chair in the center. Behind us is the bay and the setting sun. The sky is scattered with hazy gray clouds and the fall of twilight makes the sky the color of a bruise. I can’t meet my sister’s eyes but I can feel her watching me. I pretend everything is normal.

“Let’s get this in before sunset, guys. Let’s get the sisters on each side of Mom and Dad. Dad, you go on the right; Mom, the left.”

I stand next to Dad, and Mom is next to Scarlett. Thankfully, Andrew doesn’t come up from the bay beach. The happy jazz music doesn’t make sense given how hard my heart is pounding.

Scarlett defended me.

“And . . . smile!”

Flashes explode and we move positions twice. Scarlett still glares at me while Mom and Dad pose with Nancy.

I need to tell Andrew about my age. He knows me. He does. He’ll understand. When Scarlett is taking pictures with Nancy, I glance down the long path back toward the beach. I don’t see Andrew.

Through the space between the spiky branches and jagged leaves, Scarlett’s friends dance around the bonfire. The moon should be high in the sky but the clouds cover the stars and move even faster than they did a few moments ago. Soon they won’t be visible at all and the rain will come. There, on this strange nature night, are all the people who I coveted this summer. There’s Shelby and her dreads. Curtis, who seems to have given up on Scarlett and is all over some girl I don’t recognize. They’re all together under the crescent moon like abstract angels. Too perfect for real life.

I turn to the tent to try to find Andrew there. There is a long line for food now. I stand at the edge of the tent and lawn and search for Andrew in the crowd.

“Your aunt has . . . the worst taste ever.”

Tucker has stepped next to me. His clipped humor is familiar. Even the way he talks when he’s trying to be funny; he starts out slow and then finishes his sentences fast. I forgot how much I liked his delivery. We stand a foot or so apart. We don’t hug or embrace. Shaking his hand seems weird, so I nod.

Waiters walk with trays of food and stand at various stations. The twelve-piece band has moved on from classics and is now playing music from the turn of the century that’s authentic to the Titanic disaster. I only know that because the party planner screams into a walkie, “Titanic music. Titanic, go!”

“Who are you looking for? That guy you were with earlier? Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

The wind makes Tucker’s hair skate over his eyes. The clouds are moving fast but break apart just enough for the moonlight to trickle through.

Mom and Dad’s friends stand in their fancy tuxes and eat appetizers off square cocktail napkins with the symbol of the White Star on the corner. Nancy is back from taking pictures and is clearly over the moon describing to everyone the prestige of the ice sculpture artist. Her arms flail everywhere and her many gems sparkle when they glint off the