The Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers (23 page)

I
n the beginning, there was Lucy Wrenn, walking into school on the eighth day of her sophomore year, with a tattoo on her heart, which no one could see. And a smile on her face that everyone could.

The world felt brand-new. She was brand-new in it.

The feeling from the night before had gone, but she had the warm memory of it. And that was enough.

Without her own pain, her own need, her own anything acting as a veil between her and the world, everything seemed different. There was Jessica Wooster, a girl from her homeroom. Lucy used to feel so sorry for her, for her frizzy hair, her short neck, her too-round face, her propensity for doing everything subtly wrong. But somehow that day Lucy didn’t feel that stab of pity anymore. She felt instead a kinship, the kinship that comes from realizing that that sack of cells walking around over there is a human.
And I am a human too.

When their eyes met Lucy smiled. And Jessica looked shocked for a moment, confused by this smile. But there was such warmth in the gesture, such genuine feeling that a moment later Jessica smiled back.

Behind Jessica were a couple of freshmen. The boy was trying so hard to impress the girl with some story. Lucy stared at them. She thought,
Well, isn’t that sweet.
But it was as though she was watching a video of something that happened a very long time ago. Something that no longer applied to her life at all and never could again. And that both delighted and scared her.

Lucy found Alex at lunch. He was right where she thought he’d be, at the edge of the junior section, sitting against the wall eating a sandwich.

He had a glob of mustard in the corner of his mouth, a bright yellow spot which would have once sent her into a frenzy of loving him back when everything did. She felt nothing at all.

It was as though he suddenly just ceased to matter.

“Hey, Alex,” she said. He looked up, a little wary, then sorry.

“Lucy,” he said. “About yesterday . . .”

“Old news,” she said. Lucy shook her head and waved her hand. “I have something of yours.” She reached into her bag and took out his photograph of the girl in bed. She put it on the table in front of him. He stared at it and Lucy saw a deep red blush creeping up his neck, right to the tips of his little baby ears.

“It really is a nice picture,” she said. “The best one you’ve taken by far.” And Lucy looked down at it, at the girl’s delicate shoulder, the top of her breast. There was something there. A mark on that smooth skin that Lucy hadn’t noticed before, that she hadn’t seen because she
couldn’t see it before.
A heart, locked shut, teardrop dripping below, and a banner across it on which was written
SECRET SISTERHOOD OF HEARTBREAKERS
.

How funny,
she thought. How funny that someday soon Alex’s heart would be broken too. And what a strange,
strange
coincidence. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt him. Well, not
too
badly . . .

She looked back up at Alex, who was staring at her, this guilty look on his face, like he was wondering exactly what she knew. But she just smiled.

“Good luck,” Lucy said.

Alex tipped his head to the side, trying to figure out what she was wishing him luck for. Lucy turned to go. She raised her hand up to her chest as she walked away from him. She pressed her new heart, and it pressed back against her hand. It was only hers now.

B
ut what was healed in Lucy had broken in someone else.

Tristan. After school that day, there he was, walking so slowly like he was waiting for her but not waiting for her too.

She caught his eye. He tried to smile in that easy way he always did. But something was not the same. When you know someone well enough, when you’ve stared at their face long enough, that creates a familiarity that is its own kind of magic. He was different.

And it was all her fault.

No, she hadn’t broken his heart on purpose and taking that tear hadn’t hurt him any more than he already was. But the simple truth was this: she was free because he wasn’t.

Now that she knew what he was feeling, had been feeling for so long, was it fair to ignore it? Was it fair to still be friends with him? Tristan was his own person, Lucy knew. Capable of making his own decisions of course. But isn’t being in love an altered state? Like being drunk or sick or high or crazy? And shouldn’t one protect one’s friends from bad choices they might make? But what if the bad choice your friend is making, what if what is hurting them, is simply being friends with you?

There were too many questions, and Lucy didn’t have answers for any of them. Not then at least.

Tristan was standing right in front of her, twirling a lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth.

“You know what,” Lucy said. “I think we need to find you a girlfriend.” She tried to sound cheery when she said it, as though this was a fun idea she’d just had.

Tristan squinted like he couldn’t quite see her. “Lucy, what are you even talking about?” he said. His voice was flat, bitter.

Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “It just popped into my head, I guess.”

“Well, whatever,” he said. “Let it go.”

“Sure,” she said. But she knew she wouldn’t. She made a silent promise to him then, to fix this, to fix everything. It was a promise she knew she would not soon forget.

W
hen Lucy came home after school, her parents were cuddled up on the couch. She stopped in the doorway and looked at the two of them, her mom’s feet resting in her dad’s lap. They were holding up sections of the newspaper, reading out loud in hushed voices, laughing quietly.

Nine days ago, watching this scene would have filled Lucy’s heart with such a mix of emotions: a pang of hope that things would just stay this way, a stab of sadness because she knew they wouldn’t, anger that they couldn’t and loneliness that of the three of them she was the only one who seemed to know this. It had always felt like a burden, that knowledge, too heavy to carry alone.

And three days ago when they’d first returned from their trip, she’d been too wrapped up in her heartbreak to really even see them.

But at that moment, standing there watching them, all she felt was a calm sense of perfect understanding: they were not stupid, they were not careless, they were not ignorant, they were just afraid.

That’s what kept them in this cycle going around and around—it was the fear of the crushing pain of a broken heart, fear that if they entered into that abyss they would never make it to the other side. That’s what kept them locked in their rubber-band dance. Looking at them, now knowing this, she felt nothing but a great warmth toward them and a deep sense of compassion for the two sad people in this situation, which she now felt so far removed from. They didn’t know any better. They were doing the very best they could. But they were fragile, breakable, after all, only human.

“Lucy!” her mom said. “You’re home! We took the day off just for fun!”

“That’s nice.” Lucy paused, smiled at the two of them. “I really love you guys.”

Her mom smiled like she was surprised to hear Lucy say it. “We love you too, honey.”

“Seems like you’re feeling better, huh?” her dad said. “Your mom was worried about your stomach.” He turned toward her mom. “See? I told you it was just a bug.”

“You were right, Dad.” Lucy nodded. “I’m only here to drop my stuff off and then I was thinking of staying over at my friend Gil’s house. We have a project to do if that’s okay.”

“Have fuuuuuuun,” they sing-songed in unison. And they looked at each other and broke into giggles.

S
itting in the back garden of some faraway restaurant, under a string of colorful silk flags, next to a white stone fountain filled with flickering floating candles and bobbing purple flowers, drinking from the jug of red wine that Liza snuck in in her giant purse and glugged into their crystal water glasses, Lucy was struck with the sudden realization that that night, the four of them, Olivia, Liza, Gil, and Lucy, really did feel like a family.

Liza raised her cup. “To sweet little Lucy, who is maybe not quite so little and sweet anymore.”

“To Lucy,” said Olivia.

Gil grinned. “To Lucy, our brand-new sister.”

They brought their glasses together and then Lucy drank deeply. A hot server was standing there watching them—early twenties, swimmer’s body, close-cropped hair. He looked at their glasses and raised an eyebrow at Lucy. Her stomach tightened. But then she remembered who they were: the Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers. All jangling bracelets and sweet-smelling hair and glowing skin and ruby lips. The regular rules, well, they didn’t apply anymore. She cocked an eyebrow and raised her glass in his direction.

When he did finally approach it wasn’t to tell them to stop sneaking wine, but to offer to take a photo of the four of them after he’d seen Lucy snap a picture of the other three. “You’re way too pretty to be left out of the shot,” he said. Lucy didn’t even blush, just sat back down and blew a kiss at the camera when the flash went off.

“Looks like you’re celebrating something,” he said. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Lucy’s birthday,” Olivia said. She pointed at Lucy, her silver rings glinting in the candlelight.

“Well, happy birthday, Lucy,” he said. “How old are you?”

“I was born today,” Lucy said. “Just after midnight.”

He looked at Lucy and tipped his head to the side. “You are very tall for a baby,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “Must be something in the water.” She tapped her glass of wine. He looked down at it, then back up at her. When their eyes met, she winked.

He grinned. “Well, then I hope you’re having a happy birthday, baby.”

“Oh believe me,” Lucy said, “I am.”

“Toast our sister?” Gil pointed to an empty glass and then down at the wine jug.

“I shouldn’t.” He looked behind him. “My manager is around here somewhere.”

“He won’t come out here,” Gil said. “I promise.”

He looked around again, bit his lip.

Gil lowered a glass into her lap, filled it from the jug, and then took out an emerald dropper and squeezed a drop of something into his wine, where it let off the tiniest curl of silver smoke. Then she refilled Lucy’s glass and put a drip from the dropper into it too.

“To you, birthday girl,” he said. He raised his glass and clinked with hers. He never broke eye contact as he took his sip. A little bead of purple clung to the corner of his mouth. He licked it off and then his mouth spread into a slow smile.

She took her own sip, her lips tingling.

He’s pretty damn sexy,
Lucy thought.

“He’s pretty damn sexy,” the server said. And then he looked around, suddenly embarrassed.

“Yup,” said Gil.

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

Gil grinned and nodded.

You are all very beautiful, except for you, Liza, who looks a bit like a frog,
Lucy thought.

“You are all very beautiful, except for you, Liza, who looks a bit like a frog,” he said. His eyes opened wide as he heard himself. He brought his hand up to his lips. “I’m so sorry. I have absolutely no idea why I just said that.” He looked around in every direction. “I think I should get back to work now.” He walked away, blinking and shaking his head.

Liza shot Lucy a look. “You!” she said. She pressed her lips together and pointed. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” said Lucy.

The four of them burst out laughing. It sounded like the jingle of bells when a door is being opened. A few minutes later their food came—giant copper dishes full of fragrant stew, saffron rice, and other things Lucy did not know the names of. Olivia, Liza, and Gil seemed different than she’d ever seen them before, smiling and laughing and joking just like regular girls, well, almost. It was, Lucy realized then, not just a relief and a joy for Lucy to be one of them, it was a relief and a joy for them to have her, too.

Lucy leaned back against her seat and looked at her new sisters, at the tattoo emerging from Olivia’s gunmetal-gray silk dress, from Liza’s black halter, from Gil’s green tank. That locked heart, the ribbon, the jewel tear. Identical to her own.

She was filled with a million questions.

But that night, for the first time maybe ever, she was content to have her questions and just let them be. To let the vast and mysterious future simply stretch out ahead of her. To let it unfold when it unfolded.

When they were done eating and their plates cleared away, the cute server came back with three others, each carrying pieces of some fancy-looking cake, with a long, skinny candle burning in the middle of the slice. They all sang happy birthday to Lucy, their voices melding together. And she wasn’t embarrassed when every single person in the garden turned to stare at her and some joined in. She got up and sang right along with them, loud in beautiful harmony. And when the song was over, she stood there enjoying the feeling of all eyes on her. She waited an extra second before she blew the candle out.

Thank you so much to:

All the fantastic people at HarperCollins, including Elise Howard, Catherine Wallace, Erin Fitzsimmons, Marisa Russell, and Sarah Landis. Extra special thanks to Farrin Jacobs and Zareen Jaffery for being wonderful editors. 

(Cousin) Aimee Friedman for all the help when this idea was just beginning. Alyssa Reuben and Lydia Wills for the great agenting.

Micol Ostow and Siobhan Vivian being fabulous writing buddies.

Tigerlili Cavill for, amongst many other things, the gorgeous drawing.

OST Café (and the lovely people therein) for the ultimate coziness.

Cheryl Weingarten and Donald Weingarten for being my mom and my dad!

Elise West (and Muffy) for much assorted delightfulness.

Aaron Lewis for the brainstorming, the author-photo taking, and being all-around awesome.

Christopher Prince-Barry, Mary Crosbie, Melanie Altarescu, and the rest of my very marvelous friends for the snacks, jokes, karaoke, and dance parties.

And Paul Griffin for you know exactly what.