They’d rather just not get blood on their hands.
But sharks are different. They smell the blood of desperation and circle in. They whisper into a girl’s ear,
“I’ll make it better. I’ll make you forget all about your pain.”
Sharks do this by eating your heart, but they never mention this beforehand. That is the thing about sharks.
The sharks at the school began to take notice of Jane.
Over the next few days one after another slid up to her, stopped by her locker to talk, measured her with hungry gazes. “What’s your phone number, Jane?” “Who are you hanging out with this weekend?” “My friend is throwing a party. It’s going to be a lot of fun.” All of them swishing about her, humming, “Come swim with me in the deep water.”
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Jane didn’t know enough about guys to recognize a shark when she saw one. But Hunter did. He grew more upset every time he saw her wading farther away from the shore, every time he saw her smiling as the fins circled around.
Finally Hunter and Jane had lunch together again.
They had a test on Friday and Jane was not so reckless as to abandon her grades in the pursuit of revenge. They studied as they ate, then went to the library to study some more. As they walked there, a sharp-toothed jock sauntered up beside her. “You never got back to me about the party on Friday. Are you going?” She smiled at him. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“What’s to decide? I can pick you up if you need a ride.”
Another smile and a toss of her hair. “I’ll let you know.”
He swam off, and Hunter’s glare followed him.
“You’re not really going to go anywhere with that guy, are you?”
“Maybe,” she said.
They walked into the library, but instead of sitting down at a table he took her arm and pulled her behind the history section. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you doing this?”
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“Doing what?” she asked, but she knew. She just wanted him to say it.
He held out one hand, waving it in front of her. “The way you’re acting. The way you’re suddenly carrying on with complete jerks.” More hand waving, as though he were trying to erase something in the air. “You’ve stopped being you.”
She tilted her head at him in accusation. “Why shouldn’t I change? You never liked the old me.” His head snapped slightly backward. “I did too.”
“No, you didn’t.” She swept her hand in front of her, presenting herself. “You like this. This is why you’re dating Savannah and not me.” There, she’d said it, and she hadn’t even meant to.
He looked at her without speaking, realization satur-ating his expression.
She turned to go. She did not want to be there when he found the words to speak.
But he never did. Speak, that is. He reached out, took her arm, and moved in front of her to block the way. She stopped and looked at the belt loops on his jeans, waiting for him to say something. Still, he didn’t.
She watched his chest move up and down with each breath. Some sort of emotion made the breaths come faster, but she was afraid to find out which emotion that was. She stared at the bookshelves around her, at the 27/431
books lined up in perfect, tidy rows. Her life had been like that once— perfect, tidy.
“Jane,” he said.
She looked up to decipher his gaze, but didn’t see much of it. He bent down and kissed her.
Somewhere in her mind a row of books went flying.
Pages flapped by like birds in flight. She kissed him back and felt them flutter away in a reckless scramble. Don’t think, she told herself and then, don’t let him go.
But of course both happened eventually. He stepped away from her and ran his fingers through his hair, watching her breathlessly.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she told him.
“No—we should have done that a long time ago.” He leaned down then and kissed her again.
In Jane’s defense, it took her a while to process what he’d said. It was hard to think while he kissed her. Finally she gave up trying to sort it out and pushed him away. “What do you mean? Do you think I want to betray my sister?” She took a step away from him. “What kind of person do you think I am?” He looked at her as though just realizing it himself. “I think you’re the perfect person for me.” Jane shook her head. At last she remembered Savannah— but you can’t blame her. You haven’t thought of Savannah in pages. Savannah was, at that moment, 28/431
ignoring her English assignment in favor of a prom dress catalog. She was wondering if Hunter could set up Jane with one of his friends. That way they could double date.
But back to Jane and Hunter. The taste of his kiss had turned to bitterness on Jane’s lips. “You already chose Savannah.”
“And that was a mistake.”
They looked at each other silently, each one weighing the past against the future. “I’ll break up with her,” he said.
“Not yet,” she said. “We have to think of a way to do it gently.”
Jane thought over this particularly difficult equation for the next week. The ride to school in the morning became an exercise in awkwardness. Lunch was better and worse. After they ate, they walked the rows of the library. Biographies and poetry. General fiction and mysteries. At some point Hunter would take her hand and say, “There is no way to do it gently. We just need to tell her.”
Jane would lean into him, stand close enough to hear his heartbeat, and want nothing more than to keep her arms around him. But she always said, “Not yet.” Hunter grew more silent and distant toward Savannah during their car rides. Occasionally he sent heavy, 29/431
questioning looks in Jane’s direction. He never took Savannah’s hand or put his arm around her.
Savannah should have known then, but she didn’t. Sometimes love not only lifts you to the ceiling, it also keeps your eyes there.
One day as the three walked across the parking lot, Savannah told Hunter that he’d become gloomy and really, he should stop worrying about finals—hadn’t he already been accepted to George Mason? She took hold of his hand and gave him a knowing look. “Seriously.
We’re going to have to refresh your fun skills.” She gestured toward her sister. “Even Jane is loosening up—look at her.”
He did.
“She’s going to be a total hunk magnet when she goes to college. She’ll probably have so much fun that—I don’t know— she’ll let a grade or two slip to an A minus.”
He kept looking at Jane. She blushed.
Savannah nudged Hunter because his hand had gone limp in hers. “Let’s go do something fun tonight.”
“We’ll go out tonight,” he said. “It’s time we did.” Then his eyes found Jane’s again. Right or wrong, the equation was written.
Jane nodded. Watching the way her sister possess-ively took hold of Hunter’s hand had momentarily 30/431
blocked out thoughts of loyalty.
Fairy’s conclusion: In ten years Jane wouldn’t have let things unfold that way, but eighteen years old is too young to understand that things that are easily done are often much harder to undo. Sometimes impossible.
And when you invite a grudge that big and vicious to come and sit between you and your sister, well, let’s just say it will be keeping you company for a long, long time. I’ve seen grudges half as small scare off trolls and goblins. Large grudges make dragons shiver. But there it was, grumbling with hunger and stretching its claws between the two of them.