“I gave her an Ambien. Charlotte’s out like a light,” Emi’s mom said. She poured herself a glass of wine and knocked it back. “Talk about a long day.”
“I can’t believe Mr. Kerrigan is a pedophile,” Emi said. “I am so creeped out right now.”
It was half past eight and they were in the kitchen together. Emi was sitting on the counter nursing a cup of tea and her mom had collapsed into one of the breakfast chairs. Her dad was at the sink setting up the espresso maker.
“I’m sure he’s not a pedophile,” dad said. “It’s probably all a misunderstanding.”
“You said she was in his bed,” Emi exclaimed. “And now that we know this, it’s more than a little sketchy how she spent all those lunches alone in his classroom with him.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. She claimed he never laid hands on her.”
“But she was crying the whole car ride home. She was probably so ashamed that she couldn’t tell the truth. I read about that somewhere in a magazine.”
“Can we not talk about this right now?” mom snapped.
Emi raised her eyebrows at her dad. Mom was in one of her moods.
“Is Mr. Kerrigan going to sleep in the guest house tonight?” Emi asked. “You’d better lock the back door.”
“Emi! I said we’re not talking about it!” mom shouted, plunging her wine glass into the kitchen sink. It hit the lip of the counter and shattered impressively, scattering shards across the floor. Mom swore loudly and stalked out of the room to fetch the broom.
Emi hopped off the counter and circled around the mess. “You have to admit, life has been very interesting ever since Charlotte arrived,” she said, dumping her mug into the sink.
“You can say that again,” dad said. “A little too interesting if you ask me. I’m sorry we had to take you home early from the luau. Did you have a good time, at least?”
“Well, Kainoa broke up with Natalie, and now we’re sort of back together again. So that’s good news.”
“I thought you were angry at him for cheating on you,” dad said, frowning.
“Keep up, dad, that was like last week,” she said. Her phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. “It’s Kainoa. Should I tell him what’s going on?”
“I wouldn’t. Not until we know more.”
Emi nodded and took the call in her room, closing the door and dropping onto her beanbag chair.
“Hey Em, why’d your parents pick you up so early?” Kainoa asked, sounding worried. “Is everything okay?”
“Something happened with Charlotte, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“Sounds heavy.”
“Everything’s heavy where Charlotte’s concerned. She’s a walking disaster.”
“So are you still allowed to come out this weekend or what?” he asked. “I was hoping we could hang out.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Stairway to Heaven?”
Emi groaned at the joke. Stairway to Heaven was the name of the hike he had taken her on once before; four thousand steps up a precipitous mountain ridge. The spot was closed to the public because it was so dangerous, but she and Kainoa had snuck out there at 2:30 in the morning last summer to reach the top by sunrise. Emi had never been so scared in her life. Now it was a running joke between them. Whenever they were planning what to do, Kainoa always suggested Stairway to Heaven to freak her out.
“We can do anything you want,” he said.
“How about Academy of Arts tomorrow after your dance class? There’s a Georgia O’Keeffe exhibit I’ve been wanting to see.”
She hung up and decided to get ready for bed early. As she brushed her teeth, a memory of Josh came to mind. It felt like ages ago that he had confessed his love to her, but it had only been that afternoon. Kainoa’s return had cleared away all thoughts of Josh and replaced them with a giddy, almost vengeful sense of triumph. She was in no mood to think about Josh at a time like this.
She knew he deserved a head’s up that she was getting back together with Kainoa, but she didn’t want to call him yet. She didn’t know what to say.
She had a fantastic time with Kainoa. She couldn’t believe how easy it was to slip back into their old ways: making stupid jokes about the art in the museum, bickering over what to order off the café menu, basically just having fun.
But the lighthearted mood didn’t last long. They were taking the bus home when her cell phone rang and Josh’s name flashed on the screen.
“What’s he calling you for?” Kainoa asked.
She silenced the ringer and stuffed the phone back into her purse. “We’re sort of friends.”
“I noticed you were hanging out with him,” Kainoa said distastefully. “And I’ve heard he’s not a nice guy.”
“You’d be surprised. He’s not that bad.”
“So what? You like him?”
“No,” she said. “I’m just saying he’s not as condescending as he seems.”
“Uh-huh. If you say so.” Kainoa was clearly unconvinced.
She smiled slyly. “Is somebody jealous?”
“I don’t know. Should I be?”
She pretended to think about it, stroking her chin. “Josh is better looking than you. And he’s quite an athlete.”
Kainoa poked her in the ribs. “You’re asking for it, Miss Jiggles.”
“Miss Jiggles?” Emi said indignantly. “What kind of nickname is that?”
“Admit it, you’ve packed on a few pounds since August.”
She thought he was joking, but there was no longer a playful glint in his eye.
“It’s not that much weight. I’ll lose it before I go back to dance class,” she said.
“You’re thinking of going back? Since when?”
“Well, I never planned on leaving forever,” she said. “And I miss dancing. I want to go back.”
“Then you’d better lose that weight fast, or Madam will laugh in your face,” Kainoa said.
Emi grimaced. She’d forgotten this side of Kainoa. The control freak dancer side whose nitpicking perfectionism could ruin a perfectly good day with one snide remark.
“What are you saying? That I shouldn’t go back?”
“I just think it’s time you faced the facts. You’re never going to be prima ballerina. It’s not your fault. It’s the body God gave you, and you have to adapt to that.”
“Why should that stop me from dancing? Most of the people in our class aren’t going to make it as professional dancers, but that doesn’t stop them,” Emi countered. “I sure hope you don’t expect to be swooped up by the Kirov anytime soon.”
“Of course not. But it’s embarrassing to watch someone dance ballet when the art form is clearly at odds with their anatomy. It’s like the Special Olympics. You cheer them on because you feel sorry for them.”
“That’s insulting on so many levels, I’m not even going to comment,” Emi said, peeved. “Except to say that I find the Special Olympics inspiring. And also, I am not fat. I’m 140 pounds. That’s perfectly normal for my height.”
“You should capitalize on your strengths. Find something to focus on other than dance,” Kainoa suggested. “Like math. You’re really good at math. You could be an engineer or a doctor or an accountant or…”
“Great. An accountant. That’s always been my life ambition.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “We only have so much time in life. We should know when to pick our battles and when to admit defeat. That’s all I’m saying.”
His discouraging words echoed in Emi’s ears the rest of the evening. She knew there was some truth to them, but she couldn’t bring herself to buy into his logic. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate that she had the desire and drive for something impossible to fulfill. She didn’t want to give up yet.