The Pretty App (9 page)

A
t the hole-in-the-wall, incredibly adorable restaurant that Leo picked for dinner, we rehashed every detail of our day. I tried to let everything sink in, but a part of me still couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Leo’s mouth had opened against mine, the way his breathing got just a little heavier as we moved to fit into each other’s curves. And even though I hadn’t thought about school yet that entire day, I suddenly wondered what it was going to be like at Harrison on Monday. Were we going to pretend like nothing had happened this weekend? Or were we going to act like we were seeing each other?
Were
we seeing each other?

Leo seemed almost as nervous as me: It was like the confident Leo I’d gotten used to was gone. We were quiet for a few moments, spreading butter onto warm pieces of
bread. When Leo looked up at me, I thought he was going to say something serious. But then he asked, “So does your uncle the principal wear a toupee?”

I giggled. “That’s actually his real hair.”

“Really?” Leo asked, shaking his head. “That’s some seriously funky hair.”

We laughed, and then Leo glanced down at the hand-printed menu. There were only twelve tables in the entire restaurant. Two waiters wearing flannel shirts moved silently, filling water glasses and announcing the specials with lilting French accents. A twentysomething girl with dark flowing hair DJ’d at a booth in the corner, and the air smelled sweet, like dessert.

“Do you speak French?” Leo asked as we read over the list of food. There were no translations on the menu.

I shook my head. “If you ask Mrs. Betts, I barely speak English.”

“I have her, too,” Leo said, laughing, “and she doesn’t like me, either. And what’s up with the amount of reading she assigns? Does she do that for the seniors, too? I couldn’t even do it if I was trying.”

“I thought Trogs always tried in school,” I said.

Leo shrugged. “Maybe in some subjects,” he said. He busied himself in the bread basket, and I looked down at my menu.

“I’m gonna guess that
soupe
means soup,” I said, pointing to the page.

“And
champagne
means champagne,” Leo said, smiling as he looked over the wine and beer list. “I’m not going to
drink,” he said, tapping the keys in his pocket like that was the only reason, like it wouldn’t be a big deal to show a fake ID if he got carded. It made me wonder what his life was like back in California. Did he go out to eat all the time and drink wine whenever he felt like it? “But do you want something?” he asked.

I shook my head. I wanted to remember everything about tonight. “Just a Coke.”

“You’re as wild as everyone’s told me,” Leo said.

I pointed my bread at him. “No more of that. No more listening to what other people say about me. Clean slate, remember?”

“Fair enough,” Leo said, and then the waiter came and took our order.

When he left, I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window at the cars zooming past and the people strolling the street.

“Maybe you’ll get picked for the reality show, and then you’ll get your chance to go to LA,” Leo said, taking a sip of his water.

I smiled. “There are thousands of girls to choose from. Though I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

“You never know,” Leo said. He traced the jagged edge of his knife against his index finger. “You said before that you’d want it.” He looked up at me. “But are you sure you mean that? You know how reality TV is, how they cut and edit to make people look a certain way. It’s not exactly flattering most of the time.” He held my glance like he was trying to tell me something important.

He was probably right. But we were playing make-believe anyway, and it wasn’t like he could grant my wish, so instead of agreeing with him, I said, “Yeah, but like
you
said, I’d get to see what Hollywood is really like. So yeah, I’d do it.” I met Leo’s gaze. “I’d want it.”

He glanced away from me. “If that’s what you really want,” he said.

That night, on the drive home under an inky, cloudless sky full of stars, I wondered if everything that had happened today was too good to be true. I’d never felt like this before—not even about Xander in the beginning. I felt like I had something special, something all my own, something that could take me away from my regular life and the pain I sometimes felt living it. I felt like I had someone who could help me change and who could take away the fear of what that change meant. And maybe it was just one day, and maybe I was getting my hopes up way too far, but if I just wanted it enough, maybe it could be true.

Leo and I were quiet for most of the ride back to South Bend. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, so many things I wanted to know about him, but I reminded myself that we had time. I didn’t need everything answered tonight.

In front of my house, Leo turned off the ignition. He walked me to the front door, and everything felt different standing there with him. I didn’t have the scared feeling I usually felt when I was standing outside of our house, wondering what was waiting for me inside.

Leo leaned forward and his lips brushed mine gently, but then he pulled back. I’d had guys try to kiss me—
really
kiss me—on the front step before. But it was like Leo knew I’d be too nervous to kiss so close to my house. Instead, he gestured toward my bag. “Can I put my number in your phone?” he asked, looking sheepish and flushed even in the darkness.

I nodded, too happy to say anything as I handed it over. Leo typed in his number, and then the phone buzzed. “Nic’s your sister, right?” he asked as he passed it back.

Can you come to campus? I need you.

I stared at the text, rereading it to make sure I was seeing it right. I hadn’t heard from Nic since yesterday afternoon, when she chewed me out over text about Sara Oaks.

Nerves filled me as my fingers tapped the screen.

I’ll be there.

“Everything okay?” Leo asked.

I put my phone into my pocket. “I don’t know,” I said.

Leo nodded and took my hand. The last thing I wanted was to cut our date short, but there wasn’t another option. Nic hadn’t needed me in a very long time. I couldn’t imagine what it was about.

“I need to go,” I said to Leo.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

I shook my head. “I should go by myself. My sister needs me.” Pride crept into the words as I said them. There used to be a time when all we needed was each other, and I remembered how good it felt. “And I still have a few hours before my curfew,” I told Leo. “I’ll text my dad where I’m
going so he doesn’t think I’m out late with you.”

“I’m not afraid of your dad,” Leo said.

“Oh,” I said. Really? “That must be nice.”

Leo smiled at first, but then his face got serious. “You’re the one who scares me,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice gentle.

Leo’s eyes went down to the stone porch, and when he looked back at me, I read real concern playing on his face, something I’d never seen there before. “Leo,” I said softly.

He took a long breath, and then he said, “I’m worried you’ll get to know more about me, and maybe you won’t like what you find out.”

“Do you know the things I’ve done?” I asked. “Do you know how I got my reputation?” I tried to smile to make him feel better, but nothing felt very funny.

“But this is different,” Leo said. “I—”

I kissed him. I didn’t need to know—not right then, not that night, and not after the most perfect day of my entire life. What I needed was Leo, no matter what stupid computer things he’d done a couple of years ago.

Our lips were warm pressed together as the night air swirled around us. Leo’s mouth was hungry on mine, and I felt the unmistakable tug of my feelings for him making me want to be even closer, making me forget every reason I had to hold back. His hands went into my hair, and I felt lost in the kiss, like there was nothing else that mattered.

“Blake,” Leo said against my lips. He pulled away but left his hands in my hair. “I didn’t expect today to be so . . .”

My palms were pressed against his chest, and I watched as he looked away, nervous. “Perfect,” I said softly. “Me neither.” The wind howled through the trees, catching the leaves and making them dance. “And I want to stay with you,” I said, letting my arms fall to my side, trying to find the willpower to pull away. “But I have to go to Nic.”

Leo nodded, and I could tell he understood.

“You’ll call if you need me?” he asked.

“I promise,” I said. And then I squeezed his hand and made my way to my car. I watched in the rearview mirror as Leo backed down the driveway. Moonlight caught his hair as he sped down the street, and I had the distinct feeling that everything—including me—had changed.

“I
’m here to see my sister, Nicole Dawkins,” I told the stern-faced woman in a Notre Dame guard’s uniform twenty minutes later. “She lives in Lewis Hall?” I said, hating the way my voice went question-y when I got nervous around adults. I rolled down my car window a few more inches and smiled. The white-haired woman sat behind a pane of glass at one of the entrances to Notre Dame. She had the same pinched look Joanna once had when she got a UTI, so I pretty much figured there was no way she was letting me on campus. I gave it one last try, gesturing to the plastic bag next to me. “She’s not feeling well, so I’m bringing her favorite soup?” I’d stopped to pick up butternut squash soup and ginger candy. The combination used to pull Nic out of any funk.

The woman frowned, but she wrote me a parking pass and opened the gate. “Go on ahead,” she said.

I drove slowly along the winding road toward Nic’s dorm. A cluster of students jogged along the sidewalk in spandex and reflective Windbreakers. Night was my favorite time to visit Notre Dame. Kids were up and walking the campus, holding textbooks or listening to music. It made me feel like there was a whole different life at college, like there were too many good reasons not to sleep.

The lake to my right was as black as midnight, and the sky was filled with stars. I loved this campus. No matter how much I associated Notre Dame with my dad, I also associated it with the memories I’d made here the countless times I’d come with Audrey and her dad. I couldn’t believe I was going to be here in the fall. It felt surreal.

I passed the brick health center and took a left into the cul-de-sac in front of Nic’s dorm, a yellow-and-brown building built in the 1960s. I parked, careful to balance the hot soup and the small, violet-colored notebook I always kept in the glove compartment. The notebook held a screenplay called
Our Dog Greta
that Nic had written for me to act in when we were ten and six. I’d kept it close to me since then, flipping through it every once in a while. I thought seeing it might cheer her up.

Inside Lewis Hall, I crossed the blue-gray carpet and tapped the elevator button, nervous as I rode to the third floor. The doors clanked open to bulletin boards tacked with flyers for upcoming dances and fund-raisers, and support group meetings for students with eating disorders. I stepped closer to study a poster that read
STEALING BEAUTY: AN ORIGINAL PLAY BY NICOLE DAWKINS
. I got goose bumps
looking over the graphics: a girl danced alone in front of a mirror, and the look on her face was sad and faraway. Sometimes I felt like going to Nic’s plays was the only way I’d gained real entry into her life during the past four years. I was memorizing the performance dates when a girl with wet hair opened the door to the bathroom and nearly crashed into me. “Oh my God, you scared me!” she said, giggling. She wore a fluffy yellow towel and smelled like a banana.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, moving to the side so she could pass with her shower caddy jam-packed with lotions and shower gels.

I walked slowly down the narrow hallway. Purple, green, and blue marker messages were scrawled on the dry-erase boards hanging on the dorm doors.
Breakfast tmrow at 7? . . . Ur mom called . . . Irish Connection tonight at 11.
One cracked me up:
Shmegan
, it read.
When you’re back from doing this:
(the girl had drawn a boy and girl making out)
call me! Love, Dish.

Maybe things didn’t have to be the same here. Maybe I could make a whole new life for myself at Notre Dame. I could be someone different from the person I was at Harrison, different from the person I was in my dad’s house. Just thinking about it felt good, like drinking cold water when you’re sweating at a football tailgate in August.

I stopped in front of room 319.
NICOLE DAWKINS
, the tag of paper announced. I knocked and took a few deep breaths before the door swung open.

My hand flew to cover my mouth when I saw her; I
couldn’t help it. Nic’s eyes were bloodshot, the skin beneath them puffy like marshmallows. Tears streaked her face, and her dark hair was stringy like she hadn’t showered in days. “Oh, Nic,” I said. I was inside her room with my arms around her before I could think twice. It’d been so long since we’d hugged—but the weight of her tiny body felt so familiar to me, the way her shoulders curved just right for me to rest my cheek on them.

“What happened?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

Nic pulled back and shook her head. “There’s this video,” she said. “And now it’s up on a blog. And I need you to get Audrey here
now
to help us get it down.” Her words were fast, almost frantic. “I’ll explain everything to you—I promise. But please, Blake, please. I know you’re not friends with her anymore. But we need her.”

I started to protest—little sounds escaping me in whispers—but what else could I do? How could I say no to Nic?

“Okay,” I said, fingers trembling as I pulled out my phone. A video of
what
? What had she done?

I scrolled through my phone—I’d never been able to bring myself to delete Audrey’s number. I pressed it against my ear and listened to her line ring and ring. I was about to give up when I heard her soft voice on the other end. “Blake?” she said, and I wondered if that meant she hadn’t deleted my number, either.

I cleared my throat. “I need your help,” I said quickly. “Please.” I didn’t want her to think this was some kind of trick, so I passed the phone to Nic. Audrey had idolized
Nic when we were younger, and she was hurt, too, when we were thirteen and Nic changed.

My sister spoke in a hushed voice that verged on begging. Audrey had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever known, except maybe her own dad. I knew she’d come.

Nic thanked Audrey, her voice choked with tears, and hung up. She gestured to her unmade bed, and I sat. I placed the soup on a nightstand and put the journal on the corner of Nic’s bed. Her light blue comforter was covered in tiny purple stars, and fluffy white pillows lined the wall next to Elmer, the lime-green Uglydoll with which she’d never been able to part. A poster of Leonardo DiCaprio in
The Great Gatsby
hung next to a framed
Scarface
script signed by Al Pacino.

Nic stared at her wooden desk chair and then at the bed, like she was deciding where to sit. When she finally chose the bed, she took Elmer into her lap and fidgeted with the torn blue pants he wore. The doll was as familiar to me as my own hands. She’d had him since I was five.

I pulled the comforter over my legs, suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure what she was about to tell me, and I wanted to say the right things. I wanted her to know I was here for her no matter what she’d done.

Nic’s tears came again as she moved her hands over the Uglydoll. “This is hard to say,” she said. “And I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for so long.”

“It’s okay, Nic,” I said, “whatever it is, it’s okay.”

Nic sniffed and let go of a long breath. “Do you remember Samantha Cavelli? She went to Harrison three years
ahead of you, and now she goes here?”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure whether or not to mention that I’d seen them together arguing in the mall. I wanted to, but I figured it was better to just let Nic talk.

Nic’s eyes went back to the Uglydoll. She ran her fingers over the thing’s worn lime-green fur, tracing a path along his arm and neck. She took a breath. “Samantha is my girlfriend,” she said in a soft voice.

“Okay,” I said, nodding, letting it sink in and waiting for her to tell me more. I was surprised, but in a way it made sense; my sister had always really valued her relationships with girls in a different way from guys. She’d dated a few guys in high school, but it was like she’d connected to girls more or something. So I wasn’t super shocked, and in that moment, I was just waiting for her to get to whatever bad thing she’d done that someone had gotten on video.

Nic looked up. She tilted her chin. “
Okay?
” she repeated.

“Yes,” I said, again not getting it, and Nic started laughing a shy kind of laugh I’d never heard from her before.

“I just told you I’m gay, Blake.”

“Yeah, I know that’s what
girlfriend
means,” I said, suddenly smiling, too. “But what’s the bad news?”

An incredulous look passed over Nic’s face. “You don’t—you’re totally fine with it?”

“Fine with you being gay? Of course I’m fine with you being gay,” I said. “Is that what you were worried about telling me?”

Nic practically jumped across the bed. She threw her arms around me and held me tighter than she ever had. She
pulled away, her hands still holding my shoulders. She was grinning, and even with her tear-streaked face, she looked like she was going to be okay. “Thank you, Blake,” she said. “Thank you, thank you.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” I said, but just then there was a knock on the door. Audrey must have been right by campus. Nic and I looked at each other. “I’ll get it,” I said. I grabbed a box of tissues from Nic’s desk and handed them to her. I crossed the room and opened the door to see Audrey standing there with her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans and a worried look on her pale, makeup-free face. She wore a black hoodie and scuffed-up pink-and-black-checkered Vans. Her green eyes searched mine, but I didn’t know what to say. “Thanks for coming,” I finally said. I wasn’t really sure how to talk to her, and something told me she felt the same way. How could two people go from being best friends to this?

Audrey stepped inside, closing the door behind us and clicking the lock. Nic stood and clasped her hands together like she was about to make a speech. She looked petrified. “Thanks, Audrey,” she said quickly. “Um. It’s over here. I mean, the video,” she said, gesturing to the computer.

Audrey and I followed her across the navy rug, and the three of us stood awkwardly in front of the laptop. “I’ll sit,” Nic said, her nervousness palpable as she yanked out the chair. She sucked in a breath, and then typed in a web address, pulling up a blog. It looked pretty amateur, with neon colors at the top spelling out
Notre Dame Night Life
and a picture of the famous golden dome on the left side.
In the center were blog posts. On the right were video clips lined up with captions beneath them like
Keg Stand Championship
.

“No one even knows who runs this thing,” Nic said. “There’s an email address where you can send in videos from parties, and if they’re funny—or scandalous—they usually get posted.” Nic scrolled down to a freeze-framed video showing her and Samantha sitting on the wooden swing outside Nic’s dorm. “I don’t even know who took it, but someone posted this,” Nic said, her voice breaking. “And I tried writing to the email address a thousand times tonight, asking whoever runs the site to take it down, but they won’t.”

She looked up at me. “A lot of kids at school already know about Samantha and me. But if Dad’s people see this video, he’s going to be dead politically. I want him to know that we’re together, but not this way. Not till after the election.” Her dark eyes were wide with fear, and I felt my heart clench with everything I knew my parents would do to her.

Nic turned back to the computer and pressed the triangular play button. The video showed Samantha taking Nic’s hand on the swing. Nic put her head on Samantha’s shoulder, and then Nic lifted her chin, and they kissed each other. The video stopped a few seconds later, midkiss.

It’s not like it was anything too passionate, but it was intimate, and anyone who watched the video—including my parents—would know they were together.

Nic put her head in her hands and started crying, sobs shaking her tiny shoulders.

Audrey ran her hand over my sister’s back. Her hip brushed mine as she moved closer to Nic, and for the first time in a while I didn’t stiffen at her nearness. “Nic,” Audrey said gently. When my sister didn’t look up, Audrey knelt down so they were eye level. “Let Blake take care of you,” she said. Then she gestured to Nic’s seat. “And let me take care of this.”

Nic stood, nodding. “Thank you,” she said, wiping her face with the back of her hands.

I guided Nic to the bed. We both sat facing Audrey, and I put my arm around my sister’s shoulders. Audrey’s fingers flew across the keys.

We were silent, watching her. I’d seen her program so many times, and I could tell by her body language that something was wrong. She was hunched over the computer, eyes narrowed. Her fists had balled above the keyboard.

“I can’t do this,” she said matter-of-factly. She whirled around and faced us. “The video optimization program is written in C code. I can crash this server with a denial-of-service attack, but that won’t stop the blogger from reposting the video once it’s back up.”

Nic stared back and forth between Audrey and me. “So what do we do?” she asked, her voice rising with panic.

“We should call Leo,” Audrey said, her eyes on me. “It’ll be a breeze for him. Trust me.”

“Who’s Leo?” Nic asked.

I felt my cheeks go pink as Nic turned to stare at me. “
Blake?
” she said as she read everything written on my face.

“Leo is this new guy at school,” I started. She’d just been so honest with me. How could I not tell her everything? “And I . . . really,
really
like him.”

Audrey’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe she knew I had a crush, but I don’t think she realized I felt like that. “What happened today?” Audrey asked, her body arching forward in the chair.

“You saw him today?” Nic asked. “Like on a date?

I nodded. “In Chicago,” I said, my voice nervous.

“He took you to
Chicago
for the date?” Audrey asked, her eyes wide.

I told them yes, and my stomach went wild and fluttery just thinking about it. And sitting there talking with Audrey and Nic like this felt like we’d been transported five years back in time. I felt a little wary, but mostly safe.

“It was perfect,” I said. They were both staring at me, waiting for me to go on, but I didn’t really know what to say, how to describe it. I didn’t have Nic’s way with words. “I just . . . I feel like he gets me.”