Bailey lowered her head. “You’re right. Ryder said the same thing. Thursday night, TVD?”
Meg managed a smile for a second or two. “Oh, I am so there. Do you think Damon is going to kiss Elena this week?”
They spent the next half hour talking about The Vampire Diaries.
And then Bailey’s cell phone buzzed. Bailey’s worried eyes shot to Meg’s.
“Is that him?”
Bailey nodded.
“Go ahead. Reply. It’s okay.”
With a touch of her finger, Bailey unlocked her phone, a tiny smile dancing on her lips as she read the text. “He says he’s sorry for the other day.” She turned the phone sideways and tapped out a response. “I told him it’s okay. We’re okay.”
Another message arrived and Bailey twirled her hair. “Oh, this is good. What do you think?” She handed Meg her phone. Ryder’s latest text was about the video game.
Ryder: Was thinking about the point of UR game. Have to switch motive. Foundation should stop missions, not assign them.
Meg blinked and then shrugged. “I don’t get it.”
“Oh…um,” Bailey shifted. “We thought it would be cool to have this shadowy government organization oversee missions and send players out on assignments. But Ryder’s right. The game’s called Lost Time, not Changed Time. All the missions have to fail. Otherwise history is rewritten. Have to invert the Foundation’s purpose, which isn’t a big deal since nothing’s done yet. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before.”
Bailey’s thumbs flew over her phone and her brow wrinkled.
“Go build levels.” Meg gave Bailey a hug.
“Wait…are you sure?”
“Yeah, you’re doing it, Bay. You’re making your game.” She smiled and then turned to go.
That’s what Meg always wanted for her, Bailey reminded herself after Meg left. The confidence to stick to something. Meg was always telling her she needed more confidence, needed a boy who’d build her up, not tear her down. Someone who wouldn’t build the game for her but encourage her to build it herself. True, Meg would have blocked Ryder immediately if he’d tried contacting her the way he had Bailey, but Meg was all about playing things safe. Bailey needed this, needed the connection. Ryder was not only encouraging her to design her own video game but helping her get over Simon, and if she was lucky, he might even help her find her dad.
Chapter 21
Meg
The days went by and the weather slowly grew warmer and wetter. Bailey had kept her promise. She’d invited Meg over on Thursday night for their weekly vampire viewing. And she’d stopped shutting Meg out.
Meg was doing her best to stop being judgmental and overbearing. Everything was going so well. Ryder had even given her a great tip on a college she’d never considered—New York City’s Cooper Union. If—and this was a big if—if she could get in, the tuition was covered for all students. Meg could hardly wrap her brain around the concept—a full ride. All she’d have to cover would be living expenses. Of course, she had to submit a home test and art portfolio too, but thankfully, there was still over a year left to work on those requirements.
She hadn’t been able to find a new job though. That had her worried. She’d asked Pauline for money, but her mom lectured her on better saving habits between paydays. Her mother didn’t know the theater was closed and Meg decided not to add to her worries. She’d find work somewhere. In the meantime, she’d squandered what money she had left—and that included what she found between the sofa cushions—for her train ticket to the city the following Saturday morning.
She stood on the sixth floor of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, Bailey and Chase at her side, awed by the hundreds of pieces in the Print/Out exhibit. Print/Out was this year’s homage to the evolution of commercial art. She’d been looking forward to it for weeks, and now that she knew about the Cooper Union, she hoped she’d get ideas for something she could do with an art degree—something she’d never seriously entertained because it didn’t meet her Plan requirements. Meg turned to grin at Bailey.
She was texting.
Meg rolled her eyes and turned to grin at Chase.
He stared at the display, confusion muddying his vibrant eyes.
Meg turned back to the display with a sigh. She had her two best friends with her, and yet, she was here alone. She noticed the name of the artist. “Hey.” Meg nudged him with her elbow. “All of this was done by an artist named Ellen Gallagher.”
He smirked. “Probably a distant relative.”
“So?” Meg spread her arms. “What do you think?”
“Um…she really likes yellow.”
With a snort, Meg nodded. “Bay.” Meg waved a hand under her face. “Bailey! I told you cell phones aren’t allowed in the building. Put it away before you get caught.”
“Oh…right.” She slipped the phone back in her pocket like it was the last drop of water on a hike through the desert.
Meg caved. “Okay. Okay, I give up. Come on, you guys.”
“We’re done?” Chase brightened considerably.
“With this floor. I want to go down to the next floor and look at some of my favorites before we leave.”
Meg turned to the escalators, Chase sighing heavily beside her. She swallowed a grin and dragged them to Van Gogh’s The Starry Night. “Well? What do you think?”
“This is your favorite?” Chase looked dubious.
Meg nodded. “One of them.” They hadn’t stopped to view it when they were here for their research project.
Bailey and Chase exchanged glances.
“Okay, look.” Meg grabbed Chase by his shoulders and oriented him in front of the oil. “Look at the colors. Van Gogh’s famous for rendering the dark with these bold streaks of light. And the clouds! God, I love the movement. And the way he painted the stars—they look like tiny galaxies. People say Van Gogh painted this from a vision, and I can almost believe that, you know?”
Meg caught Chase’s eye and was surprised to find he was looking at her instead of the artwork.
“What?”
He smiled for a fraction of a second and looked at the floor. “Nothing. I…it’s nice seeing you so excited.”
Her face burst into flames, and Meg was certain it bore the same shade of red as the jacket she wore. Pyrrole Red, she decided. She cleared her throat and led them to Dali’s The Persistence of Memory.
“I love this.”
“Um…why are all the clocks melting?” Bailey asked.
Meg smiled, staring at the canvas. “This is Salvador Dali. You look at some artists’ work and say to yourself, ‘Wow. Pretty.’ Maybe you wish you can do something so good. But that’s not what Dali did.”
Chase shifted his weight to one side. “Okay, so what did Dali do?”
“He painted ideas. Concepts.”
Bailey and Chase exchanged another look. “You lost me,” she said. “What concept?”
Meg peered at the painting. “Confusion, I guess.”
“If it confuses you, why is it art?” Chase frowned.
She thought about that for a moment. “The Impressionists painted things you could recognize, like landscapes, city scenes, moments captured in time. Dali didn’t paint those things. He painted abstractions. Questions. There’s something kind of cool in painting stuff that still makes people wonder eighty years later, you know?”
“Like is time even real?” Chase murmured.
Meg glanced at him, but he was still staring at the work.
“What?” He caught her eye and frowned.
“That’s…that’s a good one.” Meg turned back to the painting. “Every time I come here, I stare at this painting, but that question never occurred to me. I figured it was more like we can’t understand time or we rely too much on time. But you—I think you nailed it.”
His face broke into a beautiful and maybe relieved grin. A surge of want rose up in her so strong, it felt like it had its own pulse. It would be so easy. Tilt your head, it whispered. Touch his hand. Just smile, it murmured. Oh, she wanted to. Her hand came up all by itself. Slowly, it moved closer to Chase. She felt him tense. She heard his quick little gasp of breath. Their hands were a breath apart, and that’s when her mind decided to replay all its stored images of her mother crying over which bills to pay.
Meg forced her hand back down. “We should go find Bailey.”
“Yeah, okay,” Chase said on a sigh. He seemed surprised she was gone.
They roamed the galleries and finally found her in “Shop Modern,” the gift shop, thumbs blurring over her cell phone’s keyboard, a private smile ghosting on her face.
“Bay?”
She jerked. “Oh! Sorry, guys.”
“Are you texting him?” Meg demanded.
Her body stiffened. “Yes, I am.”
Okay, this was a moment. Meg could pout and demand that she be with her like Bailey had promised. Like she’d done for her. Like Meg always did for her without ever—
Meg took a deep breath.
Or she could be supportive and trust Bailey’s judgment, even though her batting average was pretty much a 1.000 when it came to picking losers. Even though—
Meg took another deep breath. She could do this.
“Why doesn’t he meet us so we can all hang out?”
Bailey’s lips pressed into a tight line and her shoulders fell an inch. “I asked him. He has to work.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get him into trouble texting him so much?”
Bailey’s eyes snapped to hers before she lowered them, shrugging sheepishly. “I won’t.”
Chase’s hand squeezed Meg’s in warning. She bit back the rest of her argument and just nodded. She wandered around the gift shop, not ready to go home yet but unable to afford anything worth buying. The glossy cover of a book of Impressionist prints caught her attention and she ran a hand over it. Then she lusted after the acrylic paint kits and felt the paper quality in the sketch pads. It must be incredible to be able to paint without worrying about conserving materials.
“I guess we saw everything,” Meg said when she’d tortured herself long enough.
Chase and Bailey fell into step, and they headed for the exit. Outside on Fifty-Third Street, Chase halted, patted his pockets, and cursed. “Hey, I think I left my phone in the men’s room. You guys stay here. I’ll be back.” He took off at a jog.
Bailey was still texting.
The aroma of street vendor pretzels made Meg’s stomach growl.
“Wanna split one?” Bailey asked.
“Um…sure.” Meg half-smiled. She was hungry but didn’t have enough money to splurge. When Bailey headed to the push cart, Meg promised herself just one bite. Meg sat on the steps and waited, watching people walk by. A few moments later, Bailey was back, tearing a hunk of hot pretzel off and popping it into her mouth.
“Mmm. That’s good. Here.” She handed Meg the rest.
Meg hesitated. Instead of taking it all, Meg tore off a piece and returned the remainder to Bailey. She’d bought it. She should get most of it. She ate another piece and offered Meg some, but Meg shook her head. She’d had her one bite. Bailey sat next to Meg and pulled out her phone. A secret smile played on her lips while she read a text.
“Ryder?” Meg asked, even though she knew it was, but she was trying to be understanding. Supportive.
The smile grew. “Yeah.”
“Is he still at work?”
She nodded. “For about two more hours.”
Chase jogged over. “Sorry about that.”
“Find your phone?”
“Uh, yeah.” He held it up. Then he jerked his chin toward Bailey. “Ryder again?”
Bailey grinned and kept texting. She never noticed Meg’s mouth tighten into a line, but Chase did. He took her elbow and pulled her away.
“I thought you talked to this guy and changed your mind about him after he went all art school for you.” Chase waved a hand around.
“I did. I—Look, I still don’t want her to get hurt, okay?”
“Megan, you have to stop running her life.”
Meg rolled her eyes. Why did everyone keep telling her that? She started walking toward Penn Station, mentally justifying her actions. She had good reasons for not trusting Ryder. Very good reasons. Several of them. But Meg couldn’t tell Chase. They were Bailey’s secrets, and Meg kept her secrets just like Bailey kept hers.
Chapter 22
Bailey
They shuffled off the train with sore legs and rumbling stomachs. Bailey’s grandfather waited at the train station.
“Hello, sweet girl!” Mr. Grant opened the car door and held out his arms. Bailey ran into his hug.
“Gramps.” She pecked his cheek.
“We ordered pizza. Plenty for all.”
Meg shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Um…are you sure?”
“Megan, there’s always enough for you. You too, Chase.” Gramps waved their objections away.
Bailey relaxed when she saw Meg exchange grins with Chase and figured she’d stop worrying about imposing because it was obviously a group thing now. Bailey called shotgun, forcing Meg and Chase to share the backseat of the car.
“Thanks, Mr. Grant,” Chase said.
“How was the museum?”
“Excellent!” Meg said, and then she launched into a floor-by-floor account of all they’d seen.
Chase watched her with a funny little smile, but Meg didn’t notice. The ride from the train station to the house didn’t take that long with Meg chattering away. It was nice to see. Chase was totally charmed, hanging on every word. When Gramps pulled into their driveway, Bailey grinned at Chase.
“What?”
She shrugged. “It’s good to see her excited, right?”
But Chase frowned and looked away.
“Where’s Mom?” Bailey asked Gran when they were seated around the old dining room table Gran and Gramps bought when they’d gotten married.
“Upstairs in her room. She said she’s not hungry,” Gran raised her eyebrows at Bailey. “She’s upset about something.”
Bailey’s posture snapped rod straight. She bit into her pizza, saying nothing.
They finished the meal, with Meg still talking about the amazing art, the color, the texture, the juxtaposition—whatever that meant. Bailey just smiled and nodded and said little until Gran started clearing the table and Gramps went back to his favorite chair.
“Bay,” Meg said and nudged her with her elbow. “What’s the matter?”
Bailey lifted a shoulder. “My mom’s mad at me.” And because that wasn’t news, she quickly added, “I mean super mad at me.” When Meg merely raised her eyebrows, she sighed. “She found out about the yearbook site.”
Meg gasped, and Chase’s eyes swung from one to the other. “What? What happened?” he asked.
“I’m trying to find my dad. I registered as my mom for that classmates site, the one where all the yearbooks are posted. I figured I could find him myself. But she found out.”
Meg reached over, squeezed her hand. “Bay, I’m so sorry. Did she cut you off?”
Bailey shifted, traced a finger over the pattern on the tablecloth. “No,” she admitted.
Chase angled his head. “Does that mean she’s letting you keep the account?”
“Definitely not.” Bailey rolled her eyes. “She was really mad. She tried to forbid me to look for him, but I told her I wasn’t four anymore.”
Meg breathed out a loud sigh. “Bailey, maybe you should give this a rest if it upsets her that much.”
She’d thought about it. She’d thought about it for hours after her mother left her room
. She dropped her head, scooped both hands through her hair, and finally lifted misty eyes to Meg’s. “I can’t. I’m so close, Megan. I just have to find him. Ryder’s helping too.”
Meg opened her mouth but then closed it, and Bailey let out a sigh of relief.
“But why?” Chase asked. “What do you think’s gonna change if you do?”
Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Wasn’t that the point? To find out? Frowning, she lifted her hands, tried to find the right words. “It’s like trying to play a game without knowing the rules. I have all these questions and—” She gave up. She just had to know—that’s all. “She said I was just like him.”
Meg propped an elbow on the table, cupped her chin. “How?”
“She said he was always laughing, always trying to have fun. Just like me. It’s what she loved most about him.” She smiled. It now made her happy, even though her mother had fired it out like an insult.
“Bay, that’s great. That’s something you never knew and she told you. Why don’t you meet her halfway and just maybe give it some more time?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” she hedged. It was so hard to talk about, hard to find the words. Even though Meg’s dad died, at least Meg and Chase knew their fathers. All she had was a great big black hole. How does anybody ever figure out who they’re going to be when they don’t know who they came from?
“Bailey,” Meg began and then swallowed. “God, this is hard.” She took a deep breath. “I wish I never knew. He was my dad, and I loved him. I miss him every day, but Bailey, I swear to you…I wish I never knew.”
Bailey’s hand fell to the table with a loud smack. “Then why the hell are you so determined to be just like him?”
Meg flinched, stared at her with huge wounded eyes, and finally shoved back from the table.
“Meg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
But Meg was already at the door.
Chase sighed and patted Bailey’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for the pizza.”
She managed a sad smile when he trailed after Meg and put her head in her hands.