I’m relieved. Most of my hydration has sweated onto my clothes. I stumble to the water fountain with my empty bottle. Who knows what kinds of germs rest on it, but I don’t care. Must have water.
Kerry fills up hers and Ally’s water bottles. “Did you hear that another girl came forward claiming that she hired the Break-Up Artist? Urban legend, my ass.”
“I think between her, Sarah, Bari and Calista, they should find her in no time,” Ally says. I suddenly feel fully hydrated, but I can’t move. I must keep eavesdropping.
“Seriously, how sad and pathetic do you have to be to break up couples for money? She must be uuugly.” Kerry caps the bottles. “It’s all yours,” she says to me.
I check myself out in the reflection of my bottle. Isn’t it sad and pathetic that people in relationships act so horribly that they force people to contact me? I inhale a gulp before filling up my bottle. When I finish, I jump back, startled that it’s not a girl waiting behind me. It’s Ezra.
I look at him. I have to. He’s right in front of me. It’s the perfect excuse.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
“I was just getting some water.” He points at the fountain.
“Yeah. I just got some. It’s good.” I squeeze my bottle until the cap almost pops off.
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
“Um, you looked... You guys were good out there.”
“Yeah. Ten more days.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he says.
“I’m really excited.” We’re just two people having a conversation. Totally normal. Just talking about...I’m not really sure what we’re talking about, but it’s of the G-rated, non-home-wrecking-slut variety.
“I’m gonna get back to the squad and drink my water.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.” I run-walk back to the bleachers. I remember that I’m still thirsty and take a sip. I would love for us to kiss again. (Wow, I did not know what I’d been missing out on!) Instead, I pucker up to my water bottle and chug.
“Rebecca,” Huxley says. I stop in my tracks. She waves me over.
I do as I’m told. “What’s up?”
“I have a question for you.”
“What is it?”
“How long have you and Ezra been hooking up?”
29
I peel pieces of the label off my bottle. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie, Rebecca. It’s rude and it gives you premature wrinkles.”
I crinkle my brow, seized by worry.
“So does that,” she says.
“I was just getting water.”
“I didn’t just fall off the boat. I’ve never seen such a charged interaction between two people. Well, aside from Steve and me.” She does a quick stretch while I stand here awkwardly. “Now I get why you weren’t into Colin Baker.”
I think fast for a cover story. “It’s really embarrassing.”
“I can’t wait to hear it, then.”
I sit down on the bleachers and act mortified—head in the hands, et cetera. “He picked me up from Chris’s party since you obviously weren’t driving me home. I was stupid drunk, and I kind of threw up in his car.” I laugh it off. “Like chunks of dinner all over his leather interior.”
She holds up her hand. “No need to elaborate. I recommend you stay away from alcohol, Rebecca, if only because of the empty calories. So nothing else happened?”
“No.” My voice returns to calm. The key to lying is convincing yourself that what you’re saying is true.
Huxley calls everyone back to practice. Even though she thinks nothing happened, I still feel uneasy about her knowing anything. I get back into position, and with all my mental power, I concentrate on dancing. Not on Ezra.
Diane sits in my mom’s throne watching a cooking show with a chef so thin I doubt she ever eats anything she prepares.
“Hey,” she says. “You can change it if you want.”
“I have a question.” My voice travels to helium levels. “Did Sankresh’s brothers marry white women?”
“Wow. That was the non sequitur of non sequiturs.” Diane is wearing her usual uniform of Rutgers sweatshirt and pajama pants, and I want to take her in the back and hose her down. I feel this disgust toward her creeping in, toward what she’s done to her life.
“Did they?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Then why was that okay?”
“Sankresh wasn’t as strong as they were. He was kind of a pushover.”
Maybe that explains why they were together as long as they were. Diane mutes the TV and kneels on the Throne to look at me. “Becca, relationships are complicated.”
“They can’t be that complicated if I break them up so easily.”
“Did you hear that?” I hear faint screams from upstairs, my mom’s voice. Diane and I look at each other, verifying that we both heard it.
“Mom, are you okay?” Diane yells as we run into my parents’ bedroom.
“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to call the police!” my dad yells.
Diane swings open the door. My mom and dad are screaming at someone out the window.
“Oh! My windows!” my mom says, feeling the glass. “If I find scratches, you’re paying for them! Do you hear me?”
I race to the window and nearly die from simultaneous shock and embarrassment. Ezra stands in our backyard, next to our rusty swing set. Pebbles lie at his feet.
“What the hell were you doing? You vandalized my property!” my dad yells.
“I’m sorry,” Ezra says. “I thought this was Becca’s window.”
“No, she’s one window over. Couldn’t you have sent her a text message?”
Diane pats me on the back. “It’s lover boy.”
“Who’s lover boy?” my mom asks. She comes closer and whispers to me: “Is that the boy you went on the date with? He’s not what I pictured.”
“No!”
“You vandalized my property!” my dad says again. He repeats himself when he’s angry.
“He’s a friend of mine from school. I’ll take care of this.” I draw the blinds and sprint to my bathroom for an outfit check and a quick blush and lipstick touch-up.
I haven’t spent time in my backyard in years. I’m too old to play here. It’s a shame I can’t donate the space to little kids in need. Ezra sits on a swing, probably getting tetanus as I speak. He digs his hands inside his hoodie. Our outdoor lights paint him in silhouette, and he’s never looked cuter.
“I’m sorry for the fracas,” he says. His voice sounds sexier than ever. I’m the only one that gets to hear it.
“Hey,” I say. For some reason, it’s the only word that comes to mind.
Ezra pulls me in for a kiss, and it sends a blast of electricity through me. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says.
“Me, too.” But I’m also thinking of Val. I squeeze his hand, wanting him to squeeze back.
“You’re incredible, Becca. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” He runs his hand down my cheek. It makes me shiver.
Ezra’s phone chimes with a call, but he silences it before the second ring.
What if that was Val? I can’t let myself get sucked into the vortex like the couples at school. Not when Val is sitting in her bedroom alone trying to talk to her boyfriend.
“What is it?” Ezra asks, noticing my giddiness deflate.
“I can’t do this,” I say.
“Val?”
I nod. “How is this so easy for you?”
“I feel awful, but I know I’d feel worse if I let you go. It drives me crazy being in the same halls as you, and not being able to do anything about it.”
Does he prewrite these lines? Still, I can’t help but swoon. They only sound stupid until a guy says them to you.