The Accidentals

  Aurora’s face breaks into a smile. “Yay! We will teach Rachel.”

  I see Jake’s eyes flick up from the map to meet mine. But they dive again just as quickly. He’s been avoiding me since The Worst Weekend Ever. “The bus leaves from the Green every half hour,” he says. On the matter of teaching me to ski, he says nothing.

  “I will have to rent skis.” Aurora actually gets up and moves around the table to sit next to Jake. “How many trails are open?” she asks, a hand on his sleeve.

  “Let’s check,” he says, pulling out his phone. “If they’re a hundred percent open, I’ll bring my board. If the base isn’t that deep yet, I’ll ski.”

  “You can do both?” I ask, biting into my bagel.

  He answers with a shrug, and without making eye contact. “I’m from Massachusetts.”

  “That’s not very nerdy,” I tease, trying again.

  “When we were little, my dad used to let my brother and I blow off school on powder days,” Jake says. “I once heard him tell the principal’s office that we’d be out that day because we’d be performing an independent study of gravity. It is possible to be nerdy about anything.” He finishes his coffee.

  Aurora grabs his phone out of his hand. “Look, every trail is open. They got twelve inches. This is going to be great.” She bounces in her seat next to Jake. “Rachel, you have to come.”

  I look across the table at the two of them. “I don’t think so,” I say slowly. “I have too much to do.” Plus, I’m beginning to feel like the third wheel. If Jake and Aurora end up together, I’ll just have to find a way to be okay with it.

  * * *

  When my phone rings that afternoon, it’s Frederick. “We have to go for a walk in the snow now,” he says.

  “But I’m studying for finals.”

  “You can study after. Have you looked outside? Dress warm, and meet me by the statue of what’s-his-name.”

  When I get outside, he’s waiting for me. And that’s beginning to seem almost normal.

  Weird.

  And this is our most beautiful walk yet. Big, fat snowflakes fall on my new coat and all over Frederick’s hair. They coat the sides of trees and the shingled roofs.

  “What are you and Aurora up to this weekend?” he asks. “Or is it all studying, all the time?”

  “Well, today she went skiing.”

  “But you didn’t go?” He pulls a pair of gloves from his pocket and puts them on.

  “I’m from Orlando,” I remind him. “I don’t know how.”

  “Huh,” he says, reaching down to scoop up some snow, forming a snowball. “But now you live in New Hampshire. Maybe you should learn.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t have the gear. Also, I didn’t want to be the one they were scraping up off the hill all afternoon.” Looking clumsy in front of Aurora is one thing. But flopping around on my ass in front of Jake is quite another.

  “We’ll have to work on that,” he says. “Maybe over Christmas break. I wanted to talk to you about the holidays, anyway.”

  “Okay.”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’ll give in to my mother and take you to Kansas City over Christmas.”

  “It’s okay with me. Is it okay with you?”

  “I’m not looking forward to it. Christmas isn’t really my thing, even when nobody wants to kill me. The last few years, I always made sure to be on tour.”

  I laugh. “That’s a lot of effort to avoid drinking eggnog with your parents.”

  Frederick grimaces. “Eggnog is a mean thing to do to a perfectly good shot of brandy. Drinks aren’t supposed to be thick.”

  “Maybe Alice has calmed down by now.”

  “You hear from her?”

  “She writes me letters. Last month I got a box of cookies.”

  “You didn’t share?”

  “You were out of town. Aurora and I ate them.”

  Frederick dusts the snow from his hair. “Your vacation is two and a half weeks. I’m playing a concert in California for New Year’s…”

  My heart leaps.

  “…so you’ll have a few extra days with Alice without me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Damn. I could always ask him to take me along to the California gig, and he might say yes. On the other hand, if he wanted me there, he would invite me.

  “You’ll meet your grandfather. He’s less excitable than Alice. Thank the lord.”

  “What can I bring them?” I ask suddenly.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “They don’t need anything.”

  “It’s Christmas. I’m going to bring gifts.”

  “Well. My father enjoys booze, which you can’t buy. And baseball. My mother likes to find my flaws. Does that give you anything to go on?”

  “I’ll bring him a bottle of whiskey shaped like a baseball bat. And I’ll bring her a magnifying glass.”

  “I guess you don’t need my help,” he says, swiping accumulated snow from the capstone of a stone wall. He makes a snowball, then hurls it at a nearby tree.

  “You missed,” I point out.

  “See? You and Alice will get along great.”

  * * *

  “So how does Christmas dinner work tonight?” Aurora asks the following weekend. We’re sitting on the S.L.O, three in a row, each with a book we were supposed to be reading.

  But tonight, nobody will study.

  “Dinner is served at seven, in Bartleby,” Jake says. “The meal seats the entire senior class at once. It’s a big spectacle, with ice sculptures and a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. You get the idea. And we’re supposed to steal the plates.”

  “Wait, what about the plates?” I give up on my book.

  “They bring out the fancy china, with the school crest in gold. And everybody swipes them.”

  “Hang on,” I point at his tee shirt, which reads Nerds SQRT16 Ever. “Are you wearing that?”

  Jake shakes his head.

  “Oh boy,” I say. “I feel a fashion crisis coming on.”

  “Sorry. I should have mentioned that everyone dresses up.”

  “Dear Jake, you are usually such a useful person.” Aurora snaps her book shut, too. “But some events require extra warning. Please make a note of it.”

  “You have to leave now,” I say, standing up. “Because we’re going to try on everything we own.”

  Jake gets up, his eyes darting back and forth from me to Aurora. “Can I pick you up at six forty-five?”

  “Hmm…” Aurora muses. “Which of us do you mean?”

  Jake clears his throat. “It’s traditional to bring two dates.”

  “That is an interesting tradition. One wonders how they managed for the two centuries before the school was co-ed.”

  “The guy also sneaks in a flask of champagne.”

  “Well, then,” Aurora says. “We will both be ready.”

  * * *

  I end up wearing one of Aurora’s dresses, a dark green velvet affair that looks very Christmassy. It’s a little low cut for my taste, and I have less to fill the bust line than the dress requires. But my winter wardrobe is still in its formative stages, and nothing I own will work.

  Aurora wears a black dress, borrowing my slinkiest earrings.

  Christmas Dinner Jake—in a coat and tie—arrives right on time, looking like a completely different person. He’s left his glasses at home. “Wow,” he says when he comes to our door.

  “Is it too much?” I ask, putting my hand over the neckline of Aurora’s dress. I feel exposed.

  Aurora rolls her eyes. “Rachel, that was a compliment, not a warning. Vamos. Get your coat.”

  I don’t quite understand the zeitgeist of Christmas Dinner until we step into Bartleby Hall. It’s decked out for a medieval feast, with garlands and tables laden with ornamental foods, as if Henry the Eighth is expected for dinner. We pass a tower of shrimp laid out in front of an ice statue in the shape of a mermaid. With a thousand candles flickering on the beams overhead, the cavernous ro
om becomes weirdly glamorous, in a sixteenth century sort of way.

  Jake’s two roommates, Sal and Arin, wave us over to a table. Jake removes a flask from his jacket pocket and sets it on the table, camouflaging it amid the pine boughs of the elaborate centerpiece. Then he pulls out two chairs for Aurora and me.

  “Hi, Sal,” I say, sitting down beside Jake. “Hi, Arin.”

  “Hi,” they reply. It’s the most they ever say to anyone.

  A waiter props a tray beside our table and begins setting salads in front of everyone. Aurora puts her napkin in her lap. “This is fancy. What if we could dine this way every night? I hear there is entertainment.”

  I look down the long room. The tables at the other end are practically in the next zip code. “Both the a cappella groups get a set.” I’d rehearsed three Christmassy songs with the Belle Choir.

  “Of course they do,” Jake says. He collects our coffee cups from each place setting and surreptitiously pours bubbly into each one.

  The first group to sing is the Senior Songsters, and Jake mimes plugging his ears. Their three songs end just in time for the salad plates to be cleared.

  I see my own singing group approaching. As a senior, I don’t have to participate, since this fancy dinner is for us. But Jessica and Jessica are both up there, and I don’t want to be a slacker.

  So I get up to stand on the end of the horseshoe in the alto section. We all link arms. Jessica hums a note, and we begin.

  Good King Wenceslas looked down

  On the feast of Stephen

  When the snow lay round about

  Deep and crisp and even

  As the harmony resonates in my chest, I’m basking in the perfection of the song, the candlelight, and the cozy half-circle of girls tethering me here. I look across to our table, where Jake’s eyes are trained on my face. The warmth I find there is so distracting that I flub the words to the third verse.

  I’m supposed to be rhyming “hither” with “thither.” But my heart is singing a different tune. Please keep looking at me like that.

  We sing each of our three songs in a different corner of the room, and then I take my seat just as the prime rib is being served.

  “Sorry if that was painful for you,” I say as Jake pulls out my chair for me. “I know you’re not a fan of a cappella.”

  “I try to keep an open mind,” he says, as Aurora smirks from across the table.

  “This dinner is an excellent tradition,” I announce. “Especially the champagne.” Jake pours the last drop into my cup.

  * * *

  After the last course—chocolate mousse—the three of us go tripping back across the cold lawn in the dark, Aurora in the lead. I’m the tiniest bit tipsy and wearing heels. So naturally I stumble on a frozen clod of snow and nearly fall. But Jake catches my hand to steady me. “Thanks,” I breathe.

  Curiously, his warm fingers remain curled around mine until we reached the door of Habernacker.

  I try not to feel ridiculously excited about it.

  He lets go when we all reach the third floor. When Aurora opens the door, he follows us inside until we all collapse on the S.L.O., with me in the center.

  “Oh! I forgot to steal my plate,” I realize.

  “Me too.” Aurora sighs.

  Jake reaches into his jacket and pulls out a plate.

  “Well done, Mr. Jake!” Aurora laughs. “The party in the annex starts in fifteen minutes.” She heaves herself off the squishy couch. “I have time to redo my makeup.”

  I watch her walk over to the stereo, where my phone is already ensconced, and turn on our Christmas playlist. Then she grabs her makeup bag off her desk and leaves the room.

  When the door clicks shut, neither Jake nor I speak for a moment. The low chords of a Straight No Chaser song play through our little speakers.

  Suddenly, it’s awkward. We’ve been circling each other for a while now—since the night he was trying to be nice and I wrecked it.

  “You’re probably sick of a cappella by now,” I say, just to find something to talk about.

  But Jake turns slowly toward me and says something unexpected. “Rachel, I need to ask you a question.”

  My stomach does a little flip flop, and I turn to face those blue eyes I love so much. “What?” I whisper.

  “Well…” He clears his throat. There is a very long pause, during which I hold my breath. “Will you come skiing some time?”

  I exhale. “I guess so?” Another beat of silence passes. “That was your big question?” I ask, feeling like I’ve missed something.

  His color deepens. “Well, no. I just…” His brow furrows, as if he’s trying to explain some point of astronomy. I love his look of concentration. I’ve missed it.

  Jake’s blue eyes lock on mine, and I see how our own orbits might finally collide. This time, I will not send the moment winging back into space. Instead, I lean an almost imperceptible degree in his direction.

  And that’s all it takes.

  Reaching up, Jake cups his hand to the side of my face. I’m still processing the sweet touch of his fingers when he leans in farther, his lips brushing the sensitive corner of my mouth. His eyes are tentative, seeking permission. My heart thuds with expectation.

  And then—finally—Jake kisses me for real. We come together the way a well-timed drummer kicks into the chorus of a song—swiftly, and without hesitation.

  We broke apart a moment later, eyeing each other while I try not to smile. “Can I do that again?” he asks, his voice rough. “That was my real question.”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

  Jake makes a low noise of approval, then draws me closer. I reach up for the back of his neck, my fingers grazing that golden patch of skin I’ve always wanted to touch. He kisses me again, his arm finding the velvet waist of my dress and encircling me.

  My heart flutters, but not from fear. Warm lips tease mine gently apart. And when his tongue tangles with mine, I lose myself.

  He tastes like champagne. Everything is wild and sweet, until the moment Aurora’s voice rings out. “Ay, caramba!”

  I feel an unwelcome rush of cool air between us as Jake retreats.

  “I did say I was going into the bathroom, right? And not on a trip to Fiji?”

  Neither of us says a word; we only look sheepishly at Aurora.

  “Just to be clear, now I’m ducking into the bedroom for my coat, which only takes a second.” She steps into the bedroom, and I hear the rustling of fabric. Then she peers dramatically around the door frame. “Good listening! Now I’m going to the party. Will I see you both there? Don’t answer that. We’ll speak later.”

  Jake laughs. “Sorry, Aurora.”

  “I’ve seen worse.” She departs, the door closing behind her.

  And now I’m self-conscious. Rising, I decide to fiddle with the music playlist. “Do you want to go to the party?”

  “I’ll go. But I’m not great at parties. It’s all shouting over the music, drinking warm beer out of a plastic cup.”

  “Then let’s not.” My fingers shake as I adjust the volume. I go back over to the sofa and sit down.

  “So.” He clears his throat. “Where are you going for break?” As he asks, he takes one of my hands in his, massaging my palm with his thumb.

  His light touch is so distracting that I almost forget to answer. “Kansas City,” I manage. “To meet my grandfather for the very first time.”

  “Um, what?” He squeezes my hand.

  So I tell Jake the embarrassing highlights of my weird story—that I hadn’t met Frederick until this past summer.

  “Wow. I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Don’t be.”

  “I guess I’m not that offended now that you wouldn’t introduce me. If the normal waiting period is seventeen years.”

  My laugh begins with an unladylike snort. Ah, well. “With me it’s just all soap opera, all the time. Believe it or not, a year ago I was really a boring person.”

 
“I don’t see how.” He regards me with darting eyes. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “It’s Aurora’s dress,” I whisper.

  But Jake doesn’t seem to care. He slips his arms around my waist. Scooting closer, he slides his lips from my forehead, down my nose and onto my mouth. And we begin again.

  * * *

  “Jesus Cristo! Do I need to wear a bell?”

  Jake and I startle apart.

  “I’ve been gone, oh, an hour and a half. Just saying.” Aurora kicks off her shoes and takes off her coat.

  I feel my face begin to burn. My hair is tousled, and my lips are swollen from Jake’s kisses.

  “Your singing group pals were at the party. Jessica kept asking me, ‘Where’s Rachel?’ I told her you were beeesy.” Aurora giggles to herself. She looks fairly drunk.

  “I really should be going.” Jake stands up, gathering his things. I follow him out of the room and into the echoing stairwell.

  “Goodnight,” I whisper. You never can tell who might hear you in the stairwell.

  Jake looks at his shoes. “Can we study tomorrow?” His smile is lopsided.

  I laugh. “I have to write an essay for Russian Lit. So we shouldn’t study until after I study.”

  “Deal.” His face gets very serious, and then he kisses me one more time. Then he runs up the stairs without looking back.

  I go back inside to find Aurora sitting sideways on the couch, her hands pressed to her mouth. “At last!” she shouts. “Now you can both stop pining for each other.”

  “You’re not mad?” After I say it, I realized it sounds vain. I don’t mean to imply that I’ve won some sort of contest.

  She rolls her eyes. “Jake is not my type. And you are not the only one who got kisses tonight.”

  I throw myself on the couch by her feet. “Really? Who is he?”

  She shakes her head with a wicked grin. “I don’t think I’ll tell you. It was probably a one-time thing. Christmas Dinner is, I think, some kind of aphrodisiac. At the party, I saw people hooking up everywhere.”

  “Tonight was a good night.” I giggle again, which I never do. But who knew a few kisses from Jake could make me crazy?