No, the whole thing had been madness; a fever-dream. And, as far as Grace was concerned, madness was no excuse for very nearly humiliating herself and wrecking a valuable friendship.
It was clear, there was only one path open to her now: complete and utter denial.
There had been no swooning eye contact, no leaning in, and certainly no awkward fleeing into the house — in her official version of events, those ten seconds no longer existed and to her relief, Theo seemed to be doing the same. He sent her casual e-mail updates throughout the summer, and the occasional text, and continued their ongoing library of adorable animal video links, but not once did he ever refer to Those Ten Seconds. Hell, for all she knew, he wasn’t even pretending. To him, nothing might have actually happened at all, and Grace was spending her time analyzing a moment that never even existed!
Still, a rebellious voice kept whispering in her mind: she should have kissed him.
“Grace. Earth to Grace?”
She looked up from her blank notebook. Her lab partner, Harry, was looking at her with a puzzled expression.
“What’s up?” She gave an absent smile. “Do you need more iodine?”
“We’re done. Didn’t you hear the bell?”
Grace glanced around. The lab was emptying fast, students rushing to be done for the day, and outside, she could hear the babble and chatter of kids spilling out onto the front quad. She blushed. “Sorry. Thanks.”
She started packing up, but Harry lingered, tugging at the strap of his messenger bag. It was covered in Wite-Out and marker scribbles: tiny cartoons marching across the flap. “I was thinking we should get together, to go over chapter six,” he suggested as Grace pulled on her backpack and headed for the door. “McLaren said there would be a quiz Monday.”
“It’s OK, I’ve covered it,” Grace told him. “I did most of this stuff last semester at my old school.”
“Oh.” Harry looked downcast. “Sure. OK.”
Grace felt guilty. As lab partners went, he was one of the good ones: actually doing the assignment, instead of slacking off, or fooling around like so many of the other guys in her class. The least she could do was make sure he didn’t fail.
“I could take you through the material, if you want?” she offered. “Sunday afternoon, maybe, at the library?”
“Great!” Harry brightened. “Let me give you my number. You know, in case.”
They exchanged details on the grand front steps. Unlike Grace’s old school, with its cramped buildings stacked haphazardly in the middle of a city block, her new school radiated out from a grassy central quad: neat white stucco buildings fringed with trees, and seating areas set back from the main pathways. In the month since school had begun, Grace often marveled at the spotless grounds: there was no graffiti or litter or any sign that this was, in fact, a school and not some serene spa.
A car horn sounded behind them, loud and insistent. Grace turned to see Dakota’s beat-up old Camry cruise into the parking lot; Hallie waving from the passenger side. “I better go,” she told Harry, stuffing her notebook into her bag. The horn sounded again. Grace gave an apologetic smile. “My sister waits for no man.”
Harry gave Grace a salute. “See you Sunday.”
Hallie and Dakota were making out when Grace reached the car, hungrily intertwined the way they had been all summer. After months of walking in on them kissing in the hallway, out by the pool, and, one time, in Uncle Auggie’s walk-in pantry (canned goods clearly proving an unlikely aphrodisiac) Grace barely noticed anymore. Except when things got . . . intimate.
Right on cue, Dakota’s hand wandered lower. Grace banged on the window. “PG-13! Children present.”
Hallie laughed, scooting forward so Grace could slide in the backseat. “No complaints! I’m the one doing the good deed here, picking you up.”
“Why are you here?” Grace pushed aside Dakota’s guitar case, and a stack of fast-food wrappers. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” she added. “But I would have come quicker if I’d known.”
“It’s cool,” Dakota said, yanking the car into gear. “You were busy with your new friend.” He waggled his eyebrows at Grace in the rearview mirror. She kicked the back of his seat good-naturedly.
“What are you, a matchmaker now?”
“I think he’s cute.” Hallie joined the teasing. “All ruffled and skater-boy.” Grace glowered at her. Hallie sighed. “I forgot, your heart belongs to another!”
Grace changed the subject. “What about you guys, what have you been up to?”
Dakota grinned. “Tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Hallie twisted in her seat, beaming. “I got a callback, on the soda ad!”
Grace gasped. “That’s amazing!”
“I know! It’s down to me and three other girls,” Hallie added, “but I saw them in the waiting room, and I’m way more photogenic.”
“And modest too.” Grace laughed.
Hallie stuck her tongue out. “Just wait. Once I land this gig, I’ll be able to get an agent, and then things will finally start happening!”
“I’m glad,” Grace told her, sincere. “This is really great for you.”
“And it’s all thanks to this one.” Hallie leaned over and kissed Dakota loudly on the cheek. “He’s the one who found out about the job in the first place.”
“The things you hear in line at Trader Joe’s,” Dakota agreed. He took Hallie’s hand and kissed it, not taking his eyes from the road. It was an automatic gesture, an afterthought, even, but something about the warm familiarity made Grace’s chest clench, deep behind her rib cage.
It wasn’t that she begrudged Hallie her happiness. She was glad her sister was in love, she truly was, especially since that love had transformed Hallie from a tempestuous brat into an even-tempered delight, but their obvious intimacy still pained Grace. It wasn’t so much a hurt as a wistful ache for a world she’d never known, only glimpsed from the outside looking in.
“So how’s school?” Hallie demanded as they turned into their neighborhood. Fall was tinting the leaves orange and red, shady over the wide streets. “Are you making any new friends — besides the cute skater-boy, I mean?”
Grace shrugged.
“Grace! Come on, you need to try. You’re a month into the semester already, and you haven’t hung out with anyone!”