The Museum of Heartbreak - Meg Leder Page 0,62

neon-pink coat. Of course.

Keats sighed, stroking my arm to placate me. “Listen, Scout, I have to talk to Cherisse about something. I’ll be back. But I’m sorry, ’kay? Emily worked on a literary journal too, and I think she kind of ruined me. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

My face was motionless as he kissed me on the lips.

He sauntered over and gave Cherisse a kiss on the cheek. Ugh.

I turned and straightened the pile of journals on the table, not wanting to see one more stupid second.

“So you helped with this?”

I turned around. Audrey was standing there, her face unsure.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Yep. Yes.”

“That’s really cool.”

“You got your hair cut,” I said, pointing to her new shoulder-length angular bob. “I like it.”

“Thanks . . . It’s a change, but a good one, I think.”

We fell into silence, until she perked up. “Oh, and I’m all set for the French Club trip to Paris this summer. I’m finally going!”

“You are? That’s awesome!” All my muscle memory told me to reach out and give her a hug, but I stopped halfway, remembering what had gotten us to that moment, and stood uncomfortably.

“How’s your grandma doing?” I finally asked.

Audrey’s face fell into sadness. “She’s having a hard time. She misses my grandpa a lot lately.”

“Oh, Aud, I’m sorry.”

“She’s told my mom a few times that they still talk every night. Mom’s kind of freaking out.”

I chewed on my lip. “Maybe he does visit her? They did really love each other.”

Audrey paused, her expression relaxing a bit. “Yeah, they did, didn’t they?”

I thought back to the first few summers we visited the lake house, and how after our mandated nine o’clock bedtime, after we could hear Eph’s soft snore, Audrey and I would sneak down the steps and watch her grandparents slow-dance, Billie Holiday or Bing Crosby crooning in the background. They were so in love.

Audrey shifted, tugging on a front strand of hair, not long enough to twist around her finger multiple times anymore, and I wondered again how we’d gotten so far from who we used to be.

“So did you see Eph’s stuff in Nevermore?” I asked.

“Don’t tell me you guys published his Teachers Farting series,” she said, referring to the caricatures Eph had drawn of all our sophomore year instructors doing exactly that.

“Oh God, no.” I paged through a copy and held it out to her, pointing to the first drawing. “Here.”

Her eyes lit up as she took in all the tiny details, and I imagined she was feeling the same burst of awe I felt when I first saw his small magnificent worlds.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s really amazing.”

“Turn to the last page.”

Audrey let out a small sigh of wonder. “God, his mind is so freakish. But in such a good way, you know?”

“I do,” I said.

“Is he coming?” she asked, scanning the gathering crowd.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“I hope so. I want to congratulate him. I haven’t seen much of him lately since our, you know, weirdness . . .”

I cringed, but she seemed as awkward about it as I did.

“But I saw you guys in the hall a couple of weeks ago . . . ,” I said.

“He was telling me about your fight, at the Flea.”

“Oh.”

“He felt bad.”

“Seriously? He could have fooled me.”

“Since when has Eph ever been good at showing his emotions? He’s total crap at it,” Audrey said.

“Did he tell you what the fight was about?” I asked slowly.

“He just said he was worried he messed things up at some thrift shop?”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say, so I chewed on my lip, thinking of the day Audrey and I became friends, the truck wheels tangled in her hair, how things get messed up so fast—past the point of fixing—and wondering if Eph felt that way with us. “Well, I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you.”

She shrugged. “Keats invited Cherisse, so I’m her wingman.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling the sting of it—Audrey wasn’t here for me anymore—then wondering why Keats invited Cherisse to an event I invited him to.

Her face flushed, flustered. “But it’s good to see you, though. I mean, I’m happy for you. And the journal is pretty cool.”

Grace beckoned to me from across the room. “Pen! It’s time to start!”

“I gotta go,” I said. “See you around?”

“Yeah, see you around,” she said with a small, rueful smile.

As Mr. Garfield welcomed everyone, I saw Eph duck in the back, tilting his head at me. I felt a rush of relief that he’d