The Hourglass Door

  “I’m trying to keep you safe,” he said.

  “I’m tough. I can take it.”

  A muscle jumped in Dante’s jaw.

  Pulling into my driveway, he got out, intending, I guessed, to open the door for me, but I’d already stepped out of the car. We stared at each other for an awkward moment; Dante’s eyes were metallic silver, a barrier as thick as steel. Then he got back into the car and drove away.

  I raised my hand to wave, though he was already too far away to see it. Instead, I saw Jason standing by the mailbox on the corner of the sidewalk. He held a handful of envelopes up to his eyes, shading his face from the setting sun. He was far enough away that I couldn’t read his expression, but I knew he had seen the whole thing.

  I sighed, feeling the slow roil of anxiety boil through me. I felt terrible at the way we had left our relationship after the dance. I felt like part of me was torn and jagged along one edge and I couldn’t figure out how to smooth it out or knit it back together even if I wanted to. Dante seemed to think everyone would be back to normal in a couple of days. If Jason’s anger at me was somehow Zo’s doing, then what would Jason be like at that time? Would he feel bad about what had happened at the dance? Would he want to get back together? Would I?

  I glanced down the empty road, looking for the ghost of Leo’s Mustang.

  Maybe what I wanted was to just slice all the ragged ends off—a clean break, a clean slate. A new beginning. Not for the first time I wished my acceptance letter from Emery had already arrived.

  I watched Jason walk into his house.

  I felt the edges of my heart tear a little more. Maybe all I really wanted was a friend I could count on.

  ~

  I walked into the house, dropping my backpack and my jacket on the couch. I was exhausted, worn out and weary. I could hear my mom on the phone in the kitchen.

  “Oh, Cindy, that’s wonderful!” Mom’s cheerful voice scraped my nerves raw. My stomach rumbled; I hadn’t eaten since lunch but I wasn’t sure I could face Mom and her boundless energy and good humor just then. Absently, I flipped through the stack of mail on the side table by the stairs, half-listening to Mom’s one-sided conversation, half-remembering the look on Dante’s face as he drove away.

  My eyes fell on a slim, white envelope addressed to me. A quick glance at the return address: University of Southern California. I inhaled sharply, tasting the sweet hint of cocoa and roses, all that remained from Dante’s hot chocolate surprise. Somehow I knew this next surprise wouldn’t be quite so sweet.

  “It’s no bother. I’m making cookies anyway. I’ll send Abby over with some in a little bit. I’m sure she’ll want to talk to Jason in person. I’m surprised she’s not over there already, actually.”

  I paused, my fingers brushing the flap of the envelope. Talk to Jason about what? I thought we’d said it all on Valentine’s Day.

  “No, Abby hasn’t heard back yet, but I’m sure something will come soon. She applied just about everywhere, after all.”

  Crushing the letter in my fist, I dropped the rest of the mail on the table and darted upstairs. I didn’t want to be in the hallway when Mom finished her phone call. And the last thing I wanted to do was go over to Jason’s house. Not before I’d read the letter from USC. Maybe not after, either, come to think of it.

  I pushed open the door to my room. The door had barely closed before I’d torn open the envelope, allowing a single sheet of paper to flutter into my trembling hands. I knew what it said without even reading it. Fat envelopes contained letters of welcome acceptance, glossy photographs of campus and students, pages and pages of class schedules and calendars; thin envelopes contained a meager handful of painful words: sorry, apologize, regret.

  When I finished reading the letter, a hard rock thunked in my belly, sending shock waves through my fingers and toes. They didn’t want me. I didn’t get in. I’d been denied. Rejected. Turned away. Passed over. The rock rumbled through my hollow insides. How was it possible? What was wrong with me that USC didn’t want me? And if USC didn’t want me, would Emery? I sat down on my bed. Would any college? What would I do then?

  A knock rattled my door.

  “Go away,” I called, crumpling the letter into a jagged ball.

  Hannah opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb. She tilted her head to one side as though considering an important decision. “Mmmm, no.” She waltzed inside and sat down at my vanity table.

  Groaning, I dropped my head in my hands. “Not in the mood, Hannah,” I warned.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to be.” Her fingers danced lightly over the rows of nail polish lined up by the mirror. “Ah-ha!” She selected a bottle of bright pink polish and settled in to paint her nails.

  “Hannah!” I snapped. “I’d like to be alone, okay?”

  She barely glanced at me, lifting her hand and blowing on her nails. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Take your pick. Right now it’s because my bratty little sister can’t seem to take a hint.”

  “I’m not little. I’m almost as tall as you.”

  I sighed through gritted teeth. “Get. Out.”

  Hannah’s pout deepened to a wounded frown. “Fine.” She rose to her feet like a queen, gliding toward the door.

  I cleared my throat. “My polish?”

  She scowled and dropped the bottle onto the tabletop. “I don’t see why you’re so upset. It’s not like you even wanted to go to USC.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cold stabbed through my heart. I shoved the horrible rejection letter under my pillow. How did Hannah know already? Had she told Mom or Dad yet? I couldn’t bear the thought that everyone knew of my failure.

  “So Jason goes to USC without you. Big deal. I thought you were holding out for Emery College anyway.”

  “Jason? At USC?” I stumbled over my thoughts, trying to arrange them into some semblance of order or meaning. “And what do you know about Emery?”

  She shrugged.

  Pressing my lips together, I crossed the room in three short strides and shut the door. I pointed to the chair.

  She wavered. “My polish?” She held out her hand with a small grin.

  I slapped the bottle in her palm. “Now sit down and start talking.”

  “There’s not much to say. Jason got his acceptance letter from USC today. Apparently there was some mention of a scholarship, too.” Hannah regarded her nails objectively, then brushed on another layer of pink.

  “How do you know I didn’t get my acceptance letter today too?” I was proud that my voice held steady over the dangerous words.

  “Because I got the mail.” Her voice softened a little and she suddenly looked younger than eleven.

  I felt tears pool in my eyes and furiously blinked them away. It seemed like I was spending most of my time lately trying not to cry. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Not until you tell them.”

  “Thanks,” I croaked, the tears thick in my throat. “Thanks for not telling.”

  She shrugged again, a sly smile flashing across her pixie-thin face. “I can keep a secret. I haven’t told them about the fact you applied to Emery College, or that you broke up with Jason on Valentine’s, or that you’re dating Dante from your drama class, have I?” She ticked the points on freshly painted nails.

  My jaw dropped open. “How do you know about all that?”

  Hannah looked at me with pity. “I may be eleven, Abby, but I’m not stupid.”

  Chapter

  14

  I managed to avoid delivering a plate of celebration cookies to Jason that night. In fact, I managed to avoid Jason altogether for almost ten days. I tried valiantly to keep my life as normal as possible. School. Rehearsal. Homework. Repeat.

  I should have known better. I should have known chaos would catch up with me eventually.

  Jason caught up with me one night during rehearsal. Dave had been in a bad mood since the beginning of rehearsal when he an
nounced he had a pounding migraine. I offered to take over, but Dave wouldn’t hear of it. Tomorrow was opening night; this would be our last full run-through. Dave micromanaged every detail, so thankfully all I had to do was sit halfway back in the auditorium and watch the play.

  By the end of Act Two, I had flipped off the spare headset mike and tossed it onto the chair next to me. Doodling on the clipboard, I watched as Hero and Claudio fell in love. I scowled. They made it look so easy. Lately my relationships seemed more like Beatrice and Benedick: all spar and spat. I drew a lopsided heart and struck a jagged lightning bolt through it.

  Lately, I’d been avoiding Valerie as studiously as I’d been avoiding Jason, but for different reasons. The guys from Zero Hour seemed to be everywhere. They had invited Valerie into their inner circle, and she spent all her time making out with V or laughing at one of Tony’s stories or listening rapturously to Zo’s latest lyrics. I saw her at the Dungeon a couple of times and I thought she looked different—older somehow. There seemed to be a sharper edge around her now. Groupie-Valerie hardly resembled friend-Valerie anymore. I missed hanging out with my friend, but it was clear she wasn’t missing me. Zero Hour had written some new songs, and she obviously preferred to stay with them during their practices rather than do anything else.

  Poor Natalie spent her time shuttling between me and Valerie, trying to convince both of us that the other one wanted to make amends, neither one of us believing her. What made it worse was that I could tell Natalie really wanted to spend her time with Jason. It was proving hard to avoid him when he kept hanging around whenever Natalie was with me.

  And then there was Dante. He was everywhere too—pouring me drinks at the Dungeon, writing me notes in history, walking me home after school—but unlike Zo and his friends, Dante had an unsettling habit of disappearing. It seemed like every couple of days he’d be late to school, or ask to cut our evening short. Sometimes he’d be gone for the whole day. Leo didn’t seem bothered by Dante’s unpredictable schedule, so I tried not to let it bother me either.

  It bothered Dave, though. He didn’t say anything to Dante directly, but instead lectured the entire cast on the virtue of punctuality. It might have had more effect if Dave hadn’t been late to his own rehearsal that day.

  “Hey, Abby.”

  Jason sat down in the seat next to me. Panicked, I glanced up at the action on stage. We were deep into Act Four and there was plenty of time before Dave would call for a break. Jason had timed his ambush well.

  “Hey.” Part of me didn’t know what to say to him, but another part of me wanted to tell him everything, just like the old days.

  “Play looks good.”

  “Thanks.” I turned my pen over in my fingers. “Leonato’s house looks great.”

  “Thanks. Your boyfr—I mean Dante did a nice job on the railing.”

  I nodded, noticing Jason’s verbal slip but choosing to let it slide for now. I wasn’t sure if Dante was my boyfriend just yet, though he was lobbying hard for the role.

  “How have you been?”

  I shrugged. “Busy. You know how it is.”

  After a few moments of silence, Jason took the pen from my grasp, laying his strong hand over my fidgeting fingers. “I’m sorry for what happened. At the Valentine’s Dance.” He held my gaze. “I’ll be honest, that night is mostly a blur—actually, I don’t remember much of the next week, either—but I must have done something to make you mad at me. Whatever it was, I was hoping you’d forgive me and that we could go back to being friends.” He rubbed his fingers along the back of my hand. “I’ve missed being friends with you, Abby.”

  I’d missed him too. This was the Jason I’d grown up with and been friends with for all those years. “Emotional hangover,” I murmured, remembering Dante’s strange conversation with Leo at the Dungeon. Whatever Zo had done seemed to have finally run its course. Maybe this was the signal that things had returned to normal.

  I looked at Jason straight on for what felt like the first time in a long time. Shadows tangled in his golden curls, eclipsed his hazel eyes, softened the chiseled planes of his face and his jaw. I could see behind the man’s face to the boy I knew so well. Was I really willing to throw away all that shared past? Could I really shut Jason out of my heart, out of my life? Did I really plan to hold onto the anger and hurt from our breakup? Especially if he hadn’t really meant it? No, on all counts. I couldn’t stay mad at Jason. What’s more, I didn’t want to.

  “I remember what happened,” I said gently. “I lost my boyfriend that night.” I covered his hand with mine. “But don’t worry, my best friend is still here.”

  Jason’s golden smile appeared on his boyish face. “Hey, you know you’ll always be my best girl, Abby.” When I grimaced slightly, he continued, stretching his smile into a grin. “My best girl friend—as in ‘friend-who-is-a-girl.’”

  I answered his grin with one of my own, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. I slugged him on the shoulder. “Don’t you forget it.”

  “Promise,” Jason said, crossing his heart with his index finger.

  “You better not. I know it’ll be hard when all those beautiful USC coeds are throwing themselves at your feet.”

  Now it was Jason’s turn to fidget with the pen. “About that—”

  “Don’t tell me the girls are already fighting over you?”

  Jason’s honey-colored skin turned cinnamon. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I really didn’t think I’d get in—the admission rate is crazy—”

  My heart skipped a step.

  “And then when the packet came in the mail and there was a scholarship, too . . .”

  My heart fell down an entire flight of steps.

  “I know we’d planned on going to State together, but I . . . I couldn’t say no.”

  I scraped my tongue off the roof of my mouth and managed to string a couple of words together. “Of course not. You’d be a fool to pass up a scholarship to USC.”

  Jason ran a hand through his curls. “Um, Abby?” He stared down at his fingernails. “Natalie got in too,” he blurted.

  I felt the words fly right out of my head. I managed to hold onto one letter, though: “Oh.” It didn’t seem big enough to express everything I was feeling.

  “She found out yesterday. She wanted to tell you, honest, but she didn’t want you to think she was rubbing it in. I mean, since you hadn’t heard back from a college yet and . . . and everything.”

  “It’s okay.” I tried to keep my voice light. I still had a week before the all-important six-to-eight-week time frame was up for my Emery application. I hadn’t given up hope completely.

  “I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. Hey, maybe you’ll get into USC too and then we can all still go to college together.”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “Maybe.”

  For a while we watched the actors onstage circle each other, their bright costumes fluttering like butterfly wings. I concentrated on my breathing, my lungs feeling tight as a cocoon.

  “Hey. You okay?” he asked.

  I looked down at his hand covering mine, thinking hard about his question. Was I okay? Would I be okay watching my friends go off to USC without me? Would I be okay if Emery said no?

  Even if Emery said no, I still believed in their motto, “Live without Limits.” Maybe that meant letting other people live their lives without the limits I placed on them. Nothing I could say or do would stop Jason and Natalie from going to USC. So instead of feeling left behind and abandoned, maybe I could be happy for them, for breaking beyond their own limits.

  Slowly, I nodded. “Yes. Yes, I think I’m okay.” I smiled, and it didn’t feel fake or forced at all. “If you see Natalie before I do, tell her I’m happy for her. USC is lucky to have her.” I bumped his shoulder. “You too.”

  Jason bumped me back. “Thanks. I know I need to start planning my class schedule, reserving a dorm room, moving—there’s so much to do—but the whole thing is a little overwhe
lming. I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet, you know?” He laughed a little. “How am I supposed to think about my future when I’m having a hard time thinking about a date for the Spring Fling, and that’s only in a couple of weeks?”

  “You’re not asking me to the dance, are you?” I grinned. “Because we both know how our last dance turned out.”

  I was surprised to see Jason blush a little. “No, actually, I’m thinking of asking Natalie.”

  “Well, you don’t need my permission. I’m not your girlfriend, remember?” I teased.

  “I know,” Jason said. “But you’re her friend too. What do you think she’d say if I asked her?”

  My eyes found Dante onstage without any effort. I felt the pull of him from all the way across the auditorium. It was automatic, irresistible.

  “I think she’d say yes. In a heartbeat.”

  Jason brightened. He leaned back in his seat, a wide smile across his face. “Thanks. You’re a great friend; you know that, right?”

  Silence fell between us as we watched the closing scene of the act. The best thing, though, was that, even though we’d talked about some hard things, it wasn’t a painful, awkward silence. It was the calm, contented silence of two people who know each other well enough to know that sometimes silence can say everything that needs to be said.

  ~

  “Okay, everyone,” Dave said into the headset mike, “I’m starting to think we might just pull this off. See you all tomorrow. Don’t be late!” As the crew and cast dispersed into the wings to change and clean up, I caught a glimpse of Valerie cornering Amanda, her eyes flashing with anger, her hands balled into fists on her hips.

  I rushed onstage, arriving in time to hear Valerie say, “I don’t care. You have to fix it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amanda said, “but there’s no time left—”

  “And how is that my fault?” Valerie snapped.

  Amanda blinked. “It’s not, but—”

  “Then stop making excuses and fix it.”

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.