“We’ve got that test coming up next Monday. Do you understand L’Hopital’s rule?”
Now that they were on familiar terrain, a glint appeared in her eye. “Well enough to explain it to you.” A grin spread across his features. “What did you get on your last test?”
“A ninety-eight,” she said.
His smile grew. “I got a hundred.” And that’s how their friendship started, over differential calculus and chain rule and winding through limits that approach infinity. Sometimes at lunch—sophomores ate before the seniors—they’d study together. She enjoyed the look of concentration that came over him as his eyes scanned the numbers. She adored his small block print that couldn’t decide whether to slant or stand tall. She liked to watch his lips as he said the word
“maxima.”
Fairy’s side note: Love makes even smart people actlike idiots. For example, even though Jane knew Hunterwas dating another girl— in this case, her sister—she 19/431
began to believe he had feelings for her.
Her list of rationales:
1. Hunter started picking up Savannah in the morning and inviting Jane to come along. “There’s no point in both of us driving there,” he told her, but what were the chances that he was actually environmentally conscious?
2. Since Savannah was often running late in the morning—coifing your hair to perfection can’t be rushed—he would turn around in his seat and talk to her while they waited in the car. He never seemed to mind that Savannah was late. And what were the chances that he was actually patient?
3. Hunter also looked at her while they spoke, cared about what she said, and smiled at her.
4. But most important, Jane willed him to like her, and that had to have some impact on his feelings.
Fairy’s side note: Even people who don’t believe in magic really do.
And then one day, three months after he first leaned against her Taurus, things changed.
20/431
Again she was walking with no thought that anything important was about to happen. This time she walked downstairs in worn gray sweats that doubled as paja-mas. She had come in search of a book because she couldn’t sleep. It was Friday night and Hunter and Savannah had gone to see a movie, which bothered her slightly. The movie had ended an hour ago and they still weren’t home, which bothered her more. So she walked into the family room and discovered that she was wrong.
They were home. They were on the couch kissing.
She let out a gasp, and then blushed furiously when they both turned and looked at her. She didn’t say anything, just rushed from the room. All the way back up the stairs she chastised herself for being so stupid. Why shouldn’t they be kissing? Had she really thought Hunter didn’t kiss Savannah because he was friends with Jane? She didn’t mean anything to him. He was just a guy, who, it turned out—disappointingly— was also environmentally conscious and patient. He hadn’t been nice to her with any ulterior motives at all.
Jerk.
Savannah’s laughter followed Jane up the stairs. “At least it wasn’t my dad.”
Jane couldn’t hear what Hunter answered. He probably laughed too. He was probably thinking what a piti-ful figure Jane made in her cheerless gray sweats. He 21/431
didn’t want someone who could discuss calculus as easily as she discussed life. He wanted someone who looked like she’d graduated from beauty school.
Jane didn’t go to sleep for a long time. She went into Savannah’s room and with shaking hands took the stack of teen magazines from her sister’s closet. She retreated to her bedroom, sat on the edge of her bed, and studied every single one of them.
The next day Jane made an appointment with the op-tometrist for contacts. She also went shopping with Savannah, who was thrilled her sister wanted to update her appearance. Savannah helped her with the zeal of someone administering life support.
As they flipped through the racks at Forever 21, Savannah put together outfits and handed them to Jane. If Jane balked because something was too bright or too flashy, Savannah quickly brought her around again with a gentle reminder. “Clothes say a lot about a person.
Right now yours say you’re on the fast track to becoming an eccentric cat lady.” Then she would shove the outfit at Jane and say, “Now go try this on and show everyone how beautiful you really are.” Jane didn’t feel guilty about accepting Savannah’s help. She wasn’t trying to steal Hunter. She was trying to punish him. She wanted Hunter to notice her so she could ignore him.
22/431
After Jane had spent enough money on outfits and ac-cessories to ensure that she would need a scholarship to go to college, she had her mother, who’d worked as a beautician for years, cut, highlight, and shape her hair until it was the mirror image of Savannah’s.
Savannah, who was almost as good a stylist as their mother, made the finishing touches and applied the hairspray. “Now we look like twins again.” They had often been told this growing up, back before their styles had detoured.
On Monday, Jane drove her own car to school. By the time calculus rolled around she was in good spirits. She had received a lot of approving gazes from the guys.
Flirting would be a problem for her, she knew. But she’d seen Savannah do it enough times. You looked into the guy’s eyes, smiled, and complimented him. She could handle the first two tasks on this list. She just needed to come up with some generic compliments that would work on a variety of guys.
“You’re so smart.”
“You’re so funny.”
“You have really great biceps.” She’d have a boyfriend in no time.
Hunter walked into calculus, did a double take, and strode over to her. “Savannah, what are you—” He stopped as though pulled back by a leash. “Jane?” 23/431
“New haircut,” she told him. “Don’t feel bad. People have been doing it all day.”
“Oh,” he said, and continued to stare at her.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked.
“It’s exactly like Savannah’s.”
“Right,” she said. You’re so smart.
He broke his gaze away from her for a moment, seeming to come out of a trance.
“I’d better say yes or I’ll have both you and Savannah mad at me, won’t I?”
“Right,” she said and laughed along with him. You’re so funny.
He went back to staring and didn’t say anything else.
Oddly, the silence didn’t make her feel awkward. She owned this silence, not the other way around.
“You’re wearing makeup,” he said.
“I was ready for a change.” You have really great biceps, she thought, and I will never let you put your arms around me.
They didn’t eat lunch together that day. She said she didn’t feel like doing homework. While he ate with guys from the track team, she talked to football players in the hot-lunch line. She laughed and flirted, her inexperience making her too obvious and nearly drunk with desperation, but she didn’t care. This was not something she 24/431
had to do well, just something she had to do.
Fairy’s side note: Guys can smell desperation. It trig-gers an instinct in them to run far and fast so they aren’t around when a woman starts peeling apart her heart. They know she’ll ask for help in putting it back together the right way—intact and beating correctly—and they dread the thought of puzzling over layers that they can’t understand, let alone rebuild.