The Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers (8 page)

Lucy wanted to ask her—a fourth for
what
? But she was scared to.

“Liza,”
Olivia said. There was a low warning tone in her voice.

“I think you might be surprised, Li,” Gil said gently. “Besides, we said we’d help her.” Gil glanced at Lucy. “I want to help her.” Their eyes met. Gil smiled a warm, secret smile. Lucy felt something happening inside her chest: a softening, an opening. Suddenly Lucy saw in Gil’s eyes a reflection of herself, not as a dump-able mute, but as someone worth fighting for, someone worth trying to save. And for a moment Lucy thought perhaps she understood what it was that made guys, unattainable guys like Ethan, love her enough to let themselves break.

“Well, there’s not enough time,” Liza said. She crossed her arms. “Not enough to fix this one . . .”

Gil’s smile had wrapped a delicate bubble-cushion around Lucy’s heart. But Liza’s words popped it and put a heavy steel clock in her belly. And that clock started to tick.

Tick tick tick.

Because the thing was, Lucy
agreed
with Liza. Six days was nothing. No time at all. In six days she’d be back on her own. Alone forever unless she had their help.

And their magic.

“What if you give me some of the . . . ,” Lucy started to say.

Tick tick tick.
The clock ticked in time with the pounding of her heart.

“We don’t just ‘give’ you anything,” said Olivia. “Anything you get from us, you have to earn. You have to prove that you’re worthy of it.”

“How do I do that?” Lucy said, too quickly.

“By doing everything we say, obviously.” Liza snorted. “Quick, meow like a kitty.”

Gil shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She reached out and squeezed Lucy’s shoulder. When Lucy turned, Gil winked.

Olivia pushed down on the gas and the car sped up smoothly. Faster and faster they went until the trees transformed into a green-and-brown-vibrating stripe and it felt like they were flying. Lucy closed her eyes. She felt the air rushing past her. “Six days is an eternity,” Olivia said. “Anything can happen. . . .”

A
t night Olivia’s enormous and eerily beautiful house made a strange kind of sense. It was a house for having secret moments, nights that feel like a dream, and dreams that feel real. It was a house for doing things in that time between sundown and sunup when the world is covered in a velvety black blanket, under which you can do whatever you want.

But in the slowly fading, late afternoon sunlight, it didn’t make any sense at all. It was too tall, too not-quite-now-ish. It felt like the air in the house had been in there a long time, not in a sad and musty way, but in a meaningful way, like every bit of it had circled through who-knows-how-many other peoples’ lungs, like by breathing it you were mysteriously connected to them all.

A pile of packages had been left on the front steps—a light-blue leather box ringed in gold, three huge bouquets of flowers, a giant paper bag with gold twine handles, a basket wrapped in peach cellophane. The girls stepped over them as they walked inside.

“What
is
all that stuff?” Lucy asked.

“Gifts from our guests last night,” Olivia said. “We tried something that may have worked a little too well.”

“What’d you try? Some sort of spell?”

“No,” Liza said. “We made them some really fucking good rice pudding.”

Lucy blushed.

“Your parents must be really cool letting you have such a big party and on a school night and everything,” Lucy said. As soon as Lucy heard herself she blushed even more. She sounded like a six-year-old.

“Yeah,” Olivia said. “Right.” She laughed and walked up the stairs, Liza following close behind.

“Her parents are dead,” Gil whispered. “Olivia lives alone.”

“She
does
?” Lucy said. “But . . . how?” She looked at the back of Olivia’s white-blonde head.

“After her parents died she moved in here with her grandmother, but her grandmother died a little over a year ago so now she lives here by herself. She has her grandma’s credit cards and bank info and can forge her signature so . . . she does.”

“That’s really s—,” Lucy started to say.

Gil looked up the stairs; Olivia and Liza had already disappeared down the hallway. Gil put one finger in front of her lips and gave Lucy a little push up the stairs.

They headed down a long hallway lined with many doors, all of which were closed. Lucy was brought into an enormous bathroom with a claw-foot tub and a cream-colored velvet daybed. A large, crystal chandelier like you’d see in a fancy hotel lobby hung down into the center of the room spraying tiny points of light. Before Lucy even had a chance to think,
A chandelier! In the bathroom!
she felt herself pressed down into a straight-backed chair.

Olivia raised her hand. She had long, strong-looking fingers. She snapped them.

Six serpentine arms moved around Lucy in unison, as though the three girls had merged into one ancient many-armed goddess.

A hand slid Lucy’s ponytail holder off and her light brown hair fell around her shoulders. In another hand, silver scissors appeared.
Sssssshk ssshk shhk
, the blades slid against each other, like a metallic-winged dragonfly fluttering, fluttering around her head. Wisps of hair began to fall, landing on her arms, her shoulders, her bare legs. She stared at a few strands that lay there on her thigh, pieces of herself that were not attached anymore. Another hand brushed those discarded pieces of Lucy off her leg, onto the floor.

Lucy’s sad broken heart pounded painfully, pushing blood out. What were they
doing
to her?

“Wait, are you . . . ,” she started to say. She didn’t even know what she was asking.

And someone said, “Ssh.”

She closed her eyes to quiet her heart.

She would trust them. She had to.

The air smelled of sweet chemicals mingled with flowers and spice. Someone applied something to her head, thick and cold.

A cream of some kind was rubbed onto her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. Her eyelids. Her heart squeezed again. Blood rushed in. Memory pumped out.

She’s in her backyard with Alex as the sun is going down. It is getting chilly but they’re not going inside. She is on her back and is intensely aware of everything that’s under her—the dirt, lumpy and hard, grass on top, softer, and above that, the thick down comforter that naughty, naughty Lucy has dragged outside and spread out on the damp grass. Later she will have to hide it as she sneaks it back into her bedroom. Her mother, who does not often get mad, might be mad if she sees it. But Lucy is not thinking about this now, nor about how Alex is leaving for the summer in just eleven days. No, for the first time in a very long time she is not thinking about anything. She is just
there
,
out there on the lawn with her boyfriend and a dozen blinking fireflies, which she can’t see because her eyes are closed now. She feels something softly tickling her cheek. She opens her eyes, finds Alex staring at her, tracing her features with a blade of grass. He smiles and brushes her hair back from her face. “If I were a painter and I were painting you,” he says, his voice low, “this is where I would start.” Gently with his blade of grass he shows her.

Time was passing. Time had passed.

A voice said she was done.

Lucy opened her eyes. She was led over to a huge cream-colored sink with a giant gold faucet and from the neck up everything was rinsed. Someone patted her face with a towel.

Hot air blasted into her hair.

“All right, gorgeous,” said Gil. “Olivia and I have to go do something downstairs. Liza is going to help you with the rest.”

“Wait,” said Lucy. She reached up and touched her hair. It felt smooth. She pulled a lock of it toward her face. What had been a light, mousey sort of brown was now dark, almost black with hints of eggplant and cherry.

Gil smiled. “Don’t worry, Liza will be nice to you.” She looked up at Liza. “Won’t you?”

“I’m always nice,” Liza said. But she wasn’t smiling.

Gil squeezed Lucy’s shoulder, and followed Olivia out.

Liza pulled out a big black toolbox and opened it. Inside was an assortment of jars and tubes and pots and brushes. She picked out a thin brush and a jar of what looked like black ink. Lucy’s heart began to pound.

“Oh, calm down,” Liza said. “The pleasure I’d get from giving you a henna unibrow would not be worth what Olivia would do to me if I did it.” She shook her head, then pointed the brush at Lucy. “But don’t think it didn’t occur to me. Close your eyes.” She was leaning so close Lucy could feel Liza’s breath on her face. “The good thing about you is that you don’t really look like one thing or another. Open them.” Liza leaned back. “Close them. Me? I look like a fifties pinup girl. I have big tits and a big ass. I have a sweetie-pie-looking face. That’s just what I look like. Okay, open them. You, on the other hand, you’re totally blank. You could be anyone. Stop moving your mouth.” She put something on Lucy’s lips. “Blot.” She took out a big brush and started pulling Lucy’s hair back.

Lucy’s phone vibrated.

Liza reached out and grabbed it off the counter. “Ooooh, a text from a booooy.”

Lucy’s heart began to pound. Alex? Liza held the phone up over Lucy’s head as Lucy reached for it.

“Who’s Tristan?” said Liza.

“My friend.” Lucy’s heart sank.

“Your
friend
?”

Lucy reached again.

Liza raised one eyebrow, put one freakishly strong hand on Lucy’s shoulder, and pushed her back down into the seat. “I am assuming this Tristan is a dude, correct?”

“Right.”

“Does he like girls?”

Lucy nodded.

“Well. Then he’s not your friend.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Guys who like girls aren’t ever just
friends
with them. The only time a guy and a girl can ever be just friends is if the guy is gay. Otherwise there’s something else going on.”

Lucy shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She felt her face begin to flush. “We’ve been friends forever. We’re like brother and sister.”

Liza started laughing.

“Well, isn’t that some adorable bullshit.” She looked down at the phone and read. “‘Hope you’re having fun over there, slugger.’” The phone vibrated in her hand. “Oh look, another one. ‘PS Found something really cool, must show you later.’” Liza looked at her. “Hmmm?”

Liza then held up Lucy’s phone. “Smile, slugger.” She snapped a picture and started texting. “Of course. Don’t I look like I’m having fun?”

“Wait!” Lucy said. “Don’t send that!”

“Too late.” Liza pressed a few more buttons.

Liza handed her back the phone so Lucy could see the photo she sent.

There on that screen was a picture of a girl.

Lucy’s little mouth dropped open into an O as she stared at her.

If you looked at the old Lucy, and slowly started turning around in a circle, by the time you were facing her again you might have forgotten what she’d looked like. Or so she thought anyway.

But the girl in the photo was . . . not the kind of girl you’d forget.

Her eyes were big and green, lined with the thinnest stripe of jet-black liner; her lashes looked thick and dark. Her sexy mouth was stained a deep matte red. Her dark, shiny hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, which somehow seemed to have changed the shape of her face. This girl had
cheekbones
.

What would Alex say if he saw her like this? She tried to imagine how she’d feel sitting there talking to him, all her words coming through this lush lipsticked mouth. But she just couldn’t.

Tristan’s reply popped up on the screen.
Whoa,
bud
,
you look like a Russian spy posing as a hostess at a fancy cocktail bar
.

“All right, enough,” said Liza. She snatched back Lucy’s phone and stuck it in her back pocket. “That’s one person you can be. Now let’s try something else.” Liza released Lucy’s hair from its ponytail. She wiped off Lucy’s lipstick and removed the mascara from her bottom lashes. Then she rubbed the tiniest bit of petal-pink blush on the tops of Lucy’s cheeks and a dab of berry-colored gloss on the center of her bottom lip.

“Let’s see what your completely platonic brother-friend thinks about this one,” Liza said.

“Don’t.” Lucy reached out for the phone, but Liza held her in her chair with one hand and held the phone up with the other. “Seriously . . . ,” Lucy said. But it was too late. Liza took another photo and sent it. Lucy turned toward the mirror.

She looked completely different this time. Sweet and innocent on the surface, but with a simmering layer underneath. The blush made her face look flushed, like she had recently been doing something face-flush-worthy. Her lips were plump and shiny, like ripe fruit.

“Guess your
buddy
wasn’t into it.” Liza made a frowny face and put the phone down. “That’s okay. Someone else will be. You can be anyone now,” she said. “Whoever you need to be.”

“But who do I need to be?” Lucy said. Although what she really wanted to say, but didn’t, was “Who do I need to be to get Alex back?”

Liza half smiled, then shrugged.

“Wash your face,” she said. “Then we start again.”

Half an hour and four faces later, Liza left Lucy with dewy skin, flushed cheeks, smudgy eye makeup, and her hair combed into a strangely sexy, tousled pile.

Olivia and Gil were back in the bathroom. Liza was putting cat’s-eye liner on Olivia.

“You look amazing,” Gil said, then leaned over and whispered into Lucy’s ear, so no one else could hear her, “just one last thing.” And she gave Lucy’s neck a little squirt of perfume. Lucy breathed in deep. It smelled like ginger and something she could not name.

Lucy moved her hand up to touch her face, to make sure, just to make sure. The hand in the mirror moved too.

“Well,” Liza said from across the room, “I
am
sort of a miracle worker. So long as she never has to talk to anyone, she’ll do just fine. Maybe it’s time to start telling everyone she really
is
a mute.”

“Liza,” a voice said, “maybe it’s time for you to shut the hell up.”

Lucy gasped because suddenly she realized something: it was her own voice that had said it. Out of her very own mouth.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one moved. Perhaps they had all stopped breathing.

This was very bad. A horrible mistake.

Lucy opened her mouth, the apology bubbling over the edges of her lip, ready to dribble down her chin. “I . . .”

And at the same time Liza opened hers and a single syllable slid out. “You . . .”

But they were both drowned out by something else, a tinkling, jingling sound that filled the entire room. A delighted laugh. Olivia’s. “See, Li-Li?” She draped one arm around Liza’s shoulders. “People change faster than you think. . . .”