Torment

SIXTEEN THREE DAYS

At breakfast the next morning, Luce could hardly eat anything.

It was the last day of classes before Shoreline dismissed the students for Thanksgiving break, and Luce was already feeling lonely. Loneliness in a crowd of people was the worst kind of loneliness, but she couldn’t help it. All the students around her were chattering happily about going home to their families. About the girl or guy they hadn’t seen since summer break. About the parties their best friends were throwing over the weekend.

The only party Luce was going to this weekend was the pity party in her empty dorm room.

Of course, a few other students from the main school were staying put over the break: Connor Madson, who had come to Shoreline from an orphanage in Minnesota. Brenna Lee, whose parents lived in China. Francesca and Steven were staying, too—surprise, surprise—and were hosting a Thanksgiving dinner-for-the-displaced in the mess hall Thursday night.

Luce was holding out one hope: That Arriane’s threat to keep an eye on her included Thanksgiving break. Then again, she’d barely seen the girl since Arriane had taken the three of them back to Shoreline. Only for that brief moment at Harvest Fest.

Everyone else was checking out in the next day or two. Miles to his family’s one-hundred-plus-person catered event. Dawn and Jasmine to their families’ joint gathering at Jasmine’s Sausalito mansion. Even Shelby—though she hadn’t said a word to Luce about going back to Bakersfield—had been on the phone with her mom the day before, groaning, “Yes. I know. I’ll be there.”

It was the worst possible time for Luce to be left alone. The stew of her inner turmoil grew thicker every day, until she didn’t know how to feel about Daniel or anyone else. And she couldn’t stop cursing herself for how stupid she’d been the night before, letting Miles go so far.

All night long, she kept arriving at the same conclusion: Even though she was upset with Daniel, what had happened with Miles wasn’t anyone’s fault but hers. She was the one who’d cheated.

It made her physically ill to think of Daniel sitting out there, watching, saying nothing as she and Miles kissed; to imagine how he must have felt when he took off from her roof. The way she’d felt when she first heard about whatever had happened between Daniel and Shelby—only worse, because this was bona fide cheating. One more thing to add to the list of proofs that she and Daniel could not seem to communicate.

A soft laugh brought her back to her uneaten breakfast.

Francesca was gliding around the tables in a long black-and-white polka-dotted cape. Every time Luce glanced over at her, she had that saccharine smile stuck on her face and was deep in conversation with one student or another, but Luce still felt under heavy scrutiny. As if Francesca could bore into Luce’s mind and know exactly what had made Luce lose her appetite. Like the wild white peonies that had disappeared without a trace from their border overnight, so too could Francesca’s belief disappear that Luce was strong.

“Why so glum, chum?” Shelby swallowed a large wedge of bagel. “Believe me, you didn’t miss that much last night.”

Luce didn’t answer. The bonfire on the beach was the furthest thing from her mind. She’d just noticed Miles trudging to breakfast, much later than he usually did. His Dodgers cap was tugged low over his eyes, and his shoulders looked a little stooped. Involuntarily, her fingers went to her lips.

Shelby was waving flamboyantly, both arms over her head. “What is he, blind? Earth to Miles!”

When she finally caught his attention, Miles gave their table a clumsy wave, practically tripping over the to-go buffet. He waved again, then disappeared behind the mess hall.

“Is it me or has Miles been acting like a total spaz recently?” Shelby rolled her eyes and imitated Miles’s goofy stumble.

But Luce was dying to stumble after him and—

And what? Tell him not to feel embarrassed? That the kiss had been her fault, too? That having a crush on a train wreck like her was only going to end badly? That she liked him, but so many things about it—them—were impossible? That even though she and Daniel were fighting right now, nothing could ever really threaten their love?

“Anyway, like I was saying,” Shelby continued, refilling Luce’s coffee from the bronze carafe on the table. “Bonfire, hedonism, blah blah blah. These things can be so tedious.” One side of Shelby’s mouth flinched to an almost-smile. “Especially, you know, when you’re not around.”

Luce’s heart unclenched just a little. Every once in a while, Shelby let in the tiniest ray of light. But then her roommate quickly shrugged, as if to say Don’t let it go to your head.

“No one else appreciates my Lilith impersonation. That’s all.” Shelby straightened her spine, heaved her chest forward, and made the right side of her top lip quiver disapprovingly.

Shelby’s Lilith impersonation had never failed to crack Luce up. But today all she could manage was a thin closed-mouth smile.

“Hmmm,” Shelby said. “Not that you’d care what you missed at the party. I noticed Daniel flying away over the beach last night. You two must have had a lot to catch up on.”

Shelby had seen Daniel? Why hadn’t she mentioned it sooner? Could anyone else have seen him?

“We didn’t even talk.”

“That’s hard to believe. He’s usually so full of orders to give you—”

“Shelby, Miles kissed me,” Luce interrupted. Her eyes were closed. For some reason, that made it easier to confess. “Last night. And Daniel saw everything. He took off before I could—”

“Yeah, that would do it.” Shelby let out a low whistle. “This is kind of huge.”

Luce’s face burned with shame. Her mind couldn’t shake the image of Daniel taking flight. It felt so final.

“So is it, you know, over between you and Daniel?”

“No. Never.” Luce couldn’t even hear that phrase without shuddering. “I just don’t know.”

She hadn’t told Shelby the rest of what she’d glimpsed in the Announcer, that Daniel and Cam were working together. Were secret pals, as far as she could tell. Shelby wouldn’t know who Cam was, anyway, and the history was way too complicated to explain. Besides, Luce wouldn’t be able to stand it if Shelby, with her oh-so-deliberately-controversial views about angels and demons, tried to make a case that a partnership between Daniel and Cam wasn’t that big a deal.

“You know Daniel’s gonna be all screwed up over it right now. Isn’t that Daniel’s big thing—the undying devotion you two share?”

Luce stiffened in her white iron chair.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic, Luce. So maybe, I don’t know, Daniel’s been involved with other people. It’s all pretty nebulous. The take-home message, like I said before, is that there was never a question in his mind that you were the only one that mattered.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“I don’t claim to be in the business of making you feel better, I’m just trying to illustrate a point. For all Daniel’s annoying aloofness—and there’s plenty of it—the guy’s clearly devoted. The real question here is: Are you? As far as Daniel knows, you could drop him as soon as someone else comes along. Miles has come along. And he’s obviously a great guy. A little sappy for my taste, but—”

“I would never drop Daniel,” Luce said aloud, desperately wanting to believe it.

She thought about the horror on his face the night they’d argued on the beach. She was stunned when he’d been so quick to ask: Are we breaking up? Like he suspected that was a possibility. Like she hadn’t swallowed whole his entire insane story about their endless love when he’d told her under the peach trees at Sword & Cross. She had swallowed it, in one single believing gulp, ingesting all its fissures, too—the jagged pieces that made no sense but begged her to believe them at the time. Now, every day, another of them gnawed at her insides. She could feel the biggest one rising up in her throat:

“Most of the time, I don’t even know why he likes me.”

“Come on,” Shelby groaned. “Do not be one of those girls. He’s too good for me, wah wah wah. I’ll have to punt you over to Dawn and Jasmine’s table. That’s their expertise, not mine.”

“I don’t mean it like that.” Luce leaned in and dropped her voice. “I mean, ages ago, when Daniel was, you know, up there, he chose me. Me, out of everyone else on earth—”

“Well, there were probably a lot fewer options back then—Ouch!” Luce had swatted her. “Just trying to lighten the mood!”

“He chose me, Shelby, over some big role in Heaven, over some elevated position. That’s pretty major, don’t you think?” Shelby nodded. “There had to be more to it than just him thinking I was cute.”

“But … you don’t know what it was?”

“I’ve asked, but he’s never told me what happened. When I brought it up, it was almost like Daniel couldn’t remember. And that’s crazy, because it means we’re both just going through the motions. Based on thousands of years of some fairy tale neither one of us can even back up.”

Shelby rubbed her jaw. “What else is Daniel keeping from you?”

“That’s what I plan on finding out.”

Around the terrace, time had marched on; most of the students were heading to class. The scholarship waiters were hurrying to bus the plates. At a table closest to the ocean, Steven was drinking coffee alone. His glasses were folded up and resting on the table. His eyes found Luce’s, and he held her gaze for a long time, so long that—even after she stood up to go to class—his intense, watchful expression stuck with her. Which was probably his point.

After the longest, most mind-numbing PBS special on cell division ever seen, Luce walked out of her biology class, down the stairs of the main school building, and outside, where she was surprised to see the parking lot completely packed. Parents, older siblings, and more than a few chauffeurs formed one long line of vehicles the likes of which Luce hadn’t seen since the car-pool lane at her middle school in Georgia.

Around her, students hurried out of class and zigzagged toward the cars, wheeling suitcases in their wake. Dawn and Jasmine hugged goodbye before Jasmine got into a town car and Dawn’s brothers made room for her in the back of an SUV. The two of them were only splitting up for a few hours.

Luce ducked back into the building and slipped out the rarely used rear door to trek across the grounds to her dorm. She definitely could not deal with goodbyes right now.

Walking under the gray sky, Luce was still a guilty wreck, but her conversation with Shelby had left her feeling a bit more in control. It was screwed up, she knew it, but having kissed someone else made her feel like she finally had a say in her relationship with Daniel. Maybe she’d get a reaction out of him, for a change. She could apologize. He could apologize. They could make lemonade or whatever. Break through all this crap and really start talking.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A text from Mr. Cole:

Everything’s taken care of.

So Mr. Cole had passed on the news that Luce wasn’t coming home. But he’d conveniently left out of his text whether or not her parents were still speaking to her. She hadn’t heard from them in days.

It was a no-win situation: If they wrote to her, she felt guilty about not writing them back. If they didn’t write to her, she felt responsible for being the reason they couldn’t reach out. She still hadn’t figured out what to do about Callie.

She thumped up the stairs of the empty dorm. Each step echoed hollowly in the cavernous building. No one was around.

When she made it to her room, she expected to find Shelby already gone—or at least, to see her suitcase packed and waiting by the door.

Shelby wasn’t there, but her clothes were still strewn all over her side of the room. Her puffy red vest was still on its peg, and her yoga gear was still stacked in the corner. Maybe she wasn’t leaving until tomorrow morning.

Before Luce had even fully closed the door behind her, someone knocked on the other side. She stuck her head into the hallway.

Miles.

Her palms grew damp and she could feel her heartbeat pick up. She wondered what her hair looked like, whether she’d remembered to make her bed this morning, and how long he’d been walking behind her. Whether he’d seen her dodge the caravan of Thanksgiving farewells, or seen the pained look on her face when she’d checked her text messages.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

Miles had on a thick brown sweater over a collared white shirt. He was wearing those jeans with the hole in the knee, the ones that always made Dawn jump up to follow him so she and Jasmine could swoon from behind him.

Miles’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile. “Wanna do something?”

His thumbs were tucked under the straps of his navy blue backpack and his voice echoed off the wood walls. It crossed Luce’s mind that she and Miles might be the only two people in the entire building. The thought was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“I’m grounded for eternity, remember?”

“That’s why I brought the fun to you.”

At first Luce thought Miles was referring to himself, but then he slid his backpack off one shoulder and unzipped the main compartment. Inside was a treasure trove of board games: Boggle. Connect Four. Parcheesi. The High School Musical game. Even travel Scrabble. It was so nice, and so not awkward, Luce thought she might cry.

“I figured you were going home today,” she said. “Everyone else is leaving.”

Miles shrugged. “My parents said it was cool if I stayed. I’ll be home again in a couple of weeks, and besides, we have different opinions on the perfect vacation. Theirs is anything worthy of a write-up in the New York Times Styles section.”

Luce laughed. “And yours?”

Miles dug a little deeper into his bag, pulling out two packets of instant apple cider, a box of microwave popcorn, and a DVD of the Woody Allen movie Hannah and Her Sisters. “Pretty humble, but you’re looking at it.” He smiled. “I asked you to spend Thanksgiving with me, Luce. Just because we’re changing venues doesn’t mean we have to change our plans.”

She felt a grin spread across her face, and held open the door for Miles to come in. His shoulder brushed hers when he passed, and they locked eyes for a moment. She felt Miles almost sway on his heels, as if he was going to double back and kiss her. She tensed up, waiting.

But he just smiled, dropped his backpack in the middle of the floor, and started to unload Thanksgiving.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, waving a packet of popcorn.

Luce winced. “I am really bad at making popcorn.”

She was thinking of the time she and Callie nearly burned down their dorm at Dover. She couldn’t help it. It made her miss her best friend all over again.

Miles opened the door of the microwave. He held up a finger. “I can press any button with this finger, and microwave most anything. You’re lucky I’m so good at it.”

It was weird that earlier she’d been torn up over kissing Miles. Now she realized he was the only thing making her feel better. If he hadn’t come over, she’d be spiraling into another guilty black abyss. Even though she couldn’t imagine kissing him again—not because she didn’t want to, necessarily, but because she knew it wasn’t right, that she couldn’t do that to Daniel … that she didn’t want to do that to Daniel—Miles’s presence was extremely comforting.

They played Boggle until Luce finally understood the rules, Scrabble until they realized the set was missing half its letters, and Parcheesi until the sun went down outside the window and it was too dim to see the board without turning on a light. Then Miles stood up and lit the fire, and slid Hannah and Her Sisters into the DVD player on Luce’s computer. The only place to sit and watch the movie was on the bed.

Suddenly, Luce felt nervous. Before, they’d just been two friends playing board games on a weekday afternoon. Now the stars were out, the dorm was empty, the fire was crackling, and—what did that make them?

They sat next to each other on Luce’s bed, and she couldn’t stop thinking about where her hands were, whether they looked unnatural if she kept them pinned across her lap, whether they’d brush against Miles’s fingertips if she rested them at her sides. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his chest moving when he breathed. She could hear him scratch the back of his neck. He’d taken his baseball cap off, and she could smell the citrusy shampoo in his fine brown hair.

Hannah and Her Sisters was one of the few Woody Allen movies she’d never seen, but she could not make herself pay attention. She’d crossed and uncrossed her legs three times before the opening titles rolled.

The door swung open. Shelby barreled into the room, took one look at Luce’s computer monitor, and blurted, “Best Thanksgiving movie ever! Can I watch with—” Then she looked at Luce and Miles, sitting in the dark on the bed. “Oh.”

Luce bolted up off the bed. “Of course you can! I didn’t know when you were leaving to go home—”

“Never.” Shelby flung herself on the top bunk, sending a small earthquake down to Luce and Miles on the bottom bunk. “My mom and I got in a fight. Don’t ask, it was utterly boring. Besides, I’d much rather hang out with you guys, anyway.”

“But Shelby—” Luce couldn’t imagine getting in a fight so big it kept her from going home on Thanksgiving.

“Let’s just enjoy the genius of Woody in silence,” Shelby commanded.

Miles and Luce shot each other a conspiratorial look. “You got it,” Miles called up to Shelby, giving Luce a grin.

Truthfully, Luce was relieved. When she settled back into her seat, her fingers did brush against Miles’s, and he gave them a squeeze. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough to let Luce know that, at least as far as Thanksgiving weekend was concerned, things were going to be okay.