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“What the fuck did you do?”
I hear her before I see her. Tovah comes at me from out of nowhere, eyes blazing. I’m in the backyard, leaning against the porch railing. She grabs my shoulders and shoves me so hard the railing digs into my back and the liquid in my cup sloshes over the side and spills down my coat. A few people are smoking pot, and everyone’s old assignments are burning in a fire pit a few yards away.
For a split second I’m convinced she’s talking about the failed hookup with Connor Mattingly, but then she throws red confetti in my face.
She found my grand finale. For now at least. Surely I’ll find other ways of destroying her. I’m deep in it now, no way to crawl out. It happened earlier today, after Arjun but before this party, when she was out with her precious Zack. Stealing Baltimore wasn’t enough. I thought Johns Hopkins was most dear to her, but then I realized there was something else.
“I figured you weren’t coming,” is all I say as the paper scraps flutter to the ground. It doesn’t answer her question. I rub my back. If there is a bruise tomorrow, I’ll only be able to see it in a mirror.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Her teeth are clenched and her fists are clenched and she looks like she might hit me. She is feral. The people by the fire pit are so loud that she has to practically scream for me to hear her. “You know how much that ticket meant to me.”
The watery beer I’ve bring drinking all night loosens my lips, slurs my words. “I don’t have as much time as everyone else does. I figured . . . why not do exactly what I want to do now? When I don’t have any consequences? Nothing’s stopping me.”
“Nothing except basic human decency,” she spits. “That’s what all this has been about? All the shitty things you’ve been doing to me? Living life to the fullest?”
I say nothing.
&n
bsp; She pinches the space between her brows. “Okay, so let me make sure I get this right. I want to examine all the ways you’re living your life to the absolute fullest, since that seems to be really important to you right now. You’re making my life hell, that’s one. You’re on the verge of not graduating. You’re sleeping with some guy you won’t tell me about. Oh, and I can’t remember the last time you went to synagogue because I guess you’re always ‘too tired.’ Really, well done. That’s a life well lived. I’m sure you’ll be in history books someday.”
Someone throws an entire textbook into the fire, and the flames lick the words from the pages. A couple people have taken notice of us. They have started pointing. Look at the Siegel twins. Aren’t they sad?
Yes, yes, we are. I stay silent, unsure how to respond when there is no way she could possibly understand.
“God, at least fucking talk to me!” Tovah says.
It’s an electric shock to my spine, to my vocal cords. I straighten to my full height, an inch taller than Tovah, and step closer so we are eye-to-eyebrow.
“You want me to talk? Or do you just want to know who I’m sleeping with? Since you’re clearly not going to shut up until you know, I’m sleeping with Arjun. Arjun Bhakta. Or at least I was.”
“Your viola teacher?”
I take another sip of my drink. “Well. Not anymore. We broke up.”
“You broke up with . . . ? You were dating him?” People are watching, and a couple guys catcall, “Oooooh.” Tovah turns to them. “This is private,” she growls, and there’s enough venom in her voice to shut them up.
The people by the fire pit are singing an old song about school being out for the summer, though it’s not summer and there is still snow on the ground.
Tovah must feel the same because she yells at them, “School isn’t even out yet!” But they either don’t hear her or don’t care, and they keep on sing-shouting.
God, it’s so cold. Our breath makes clouds in the cold night air, white against midnight black. I inch off the deck, closer to the fire. I crave its warmth.
“How old is he?” Tovah asks. “Your teacher. Are you at least on birth control?” Practical, smart Tovah. She’ll be such a good doctor one day.
“It doesn’t matter how old he is. I’m eighteen. And yes, I’ve been on it since I was fourteen, so I don’t think we need to have a safe-sex talk. Ima took me to get it because my period cramps were so bad.”
Tovah sets her jaw. “Mine were bad too. I never said anything about it.” She grips the deck railing, starts saying “oh my God” over and over and over. Finally, she drags her eyes back up to mine. “You said he wasn’t the first.”
The alcohol makes the words tumble out easier, destroys my filter. Eitan, I mouth.
“Mizrahi? He’s engaged!”
“Not recently. Like, four years ago.” Lifetimes ago. Who was I then?
The oh-my-God symphony starts again. “You were fourteen?” Her face is solemn. Scared, even.
I nod.
