The Book of Love

  She didn’t even need Oscar Drops to make it sound sincere because what she said was true. She could not think of many times she’d been sorrier.

  Colin was silent for a while after that. He looked down and then finally whispered, “Wow.” A tiny tear quivered in the corner of his eye. “I was not expecting that,” he said. He tried to smile and another tear collected.

  Lucy said nothing. She felt a wave of embarrassment on his behalf, knowing it must be killing him to cry in front of her. But then she forced herself to take the final step—she reached out to brush that tear off his cheek. The Empathy Cream she’d smoothed into her palm confirmed the truth of his broken heart.

  She quickly unscrewed her tear-catcher necklace and deposited the tiny droplet inside. She felt something then, in her chest, in her heart: an odd spreading coldness like she’d swallowed a too-big lump of ice cream, even though the sundae Colin had insisted on buying lay untouched between them. The coldness faded then, and a rush of energy went through her. She felt her mouth wanting to spread into a smile, and she had to consciously stop it from doing that. Colin looked up at her then.

  “I just wish . . .” He stopped and chewed his lip.

  And beneath the table Lucy was sticking her left hand in her purse. “What do you wish?”

  He hesitated. Then shook his head.

  “Make one,” she said. “It might just come true.”

  And obedient boy that he was, he had made a wish. She saw it light up the star in her palm.

  A few minutes after that, he stood and said he was leaving. He gave her a hug. His arms shook as he let her go.

  Now Lucy sat alone, watching through the window as Colin walked across the parking lot. There was a group of junior boys sitting at the next table staring at her. She could feel their eyes on her skin. She turned and saw one of them lick his cone in a way Lucy could only imagine was supposed to be seductive.

  Lucy ignored them. There was still one little thing left to do—she dropped the golden Wish Star on top of the sundae, scooped it up with her spoon, popped it into her mouth, and crunched down. She closed her eyes and then heard the sweet tones of Colin’s voice as though he was whispering in her ear.

  “Lucy seems so sad now,” his voice said. “I just want her to be okay.”

  Lucy pressed her lips together. His own heart was freshly broken, but that was what he’d wished for. She was, she realized, nothing like Colin. Not anymore, anyway. Breaking his heart had only been hard before she’d done it. And now that it was over, she barely felt anything at all.

  He’d wished for her to be okay.

  Well, lucky boy, it looked like his wish had already come true.

  Thirteen

  When Lucy got home, Olivia’s blue convertible was parked out front with Lucy’s three sisters sitting inside. As soon as they saw her, they started to clap, their applause growing louder and turning to cheers.

  Olivia flipped on the stereo, sending loud dance music into the air. Liza shimmied her way out of the car. “Well, little bunny, you’re a full-fledged Heartbreaker.” Liza grabbed Lucy’s hands and twirled her around. “Now you’re really one of us.”

  Gil pulled Lucy in for a hug. “I promise it was worth it,” she whispered.

  “How did you guys know . . . ?” Lucy said slowly.

  Gil smiled. “We’re sisters. When one of us breaks a heart, we all gain power, and we all feel it in our own.”

  Olivia popped the trunk, then motioned for Lucy to come over. Inside was a pile of sleeping bags, duffels, and a tent. On top of it all was a black leather guitar case. Olivia lifted the lid, and Lucy stared at a guitar, dark wood inlaid with swirls of silver and gold. Lucy ran her hand over the smooth wood, then plucked a string. Even from inside the case she could tell it would sound amazing.

  “That’s yours,” Olivia said.

  “It is?”

  “Think of it as a little congratulations present,” Olivia said. “The first time is never easy.”

  “Oh my goodness. Thank you,” Lucy said.

  But Olivia just waved her hand. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the guitar you had,” Olivia said, her lips curving into a smirk. “But if you’re going to be playing at the festival, you might want something a little prettier. . . .”

  “What?” Lucy’s head was spinning.

  “You’re playing at SoundWave,” Liza said. “In the New Voices tent.” She shrugged like it was nothing, but she was fully grinning now. “It’s going to be a lot easier for me to get at Beacon if I meet him as a friend of a fellow performer rather than just some groupie. Not that I’d ever be just some groupie, but, y’know . . .”

  “You’re serious,” Lucy said. “You’re serious?”

  Liza nodded. “You remember Paisley, our DJ friend? He set it up. He knows one of the bookers.”

  “It’s not like you don’t deserve it, though,” Gil said. “He just played her the recording he made when you sang at Pete’s that first time. And, of course, she loved it.”

  Lucy tried to let the meaning of their words sink in. But for some reason she couldn’t really feel it. Why wasn’t it sinking in? She pictured Colin’s sweet sad face and quickly shut her eyes. She’d had no choice. It was over. There was no point in thinking about it anymore. She forced her eyes open and looked at the smiling faces of her sisters. “This is amazing,” she said. “You guys are amazing.”

  “No, Luce, you are,” Gil said quietly. “Thank you for doing what you needed to do, even though it was hard.”

  “All right,” Liza said. “You’re amazing, we’re amazing, everyone’s amazing. Put your ass in the seat—SoundWave awaits.”

  “Now? I need to go in and tell my mom I’ll be gone. . . .” Lucy’s head was spinning. “I forgot it was . . .”

  “She’s not home,” Gil said. “But don’t worry—I already took care of it.”

  “You did? Did you use . . . ?”

  Gil laughed at Lucy’s concerned expression. “No, I didn’t do magic on your mother if that’s what you’re wondering. She passed us on her way out, and I just told her we were going to stay at Olivia’s house for the weekend because a boy dumped her and we needed to cheer her up. She said breakups are really hard and that we were very nice friends. She also said you should call her if you need anything.”

  “Okay,” said Lucy. “Wow, great. I’ll just run in and grab my stuff.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I think you might need some new stuff to go with that fancy new guitar of yours. We’ll stop on the way.”

  And with that, Lucy hopped in, Gil shut the door, Olivia started the car, and Liza cranked the music. They drove off dancing.

  Olivia was showing Bastian, the beautiful head stylist, a photo on her phone. “Something like this?” she said. “Maybe?” She swiped to another photo. “What do you think?” Bastian pursed his rosebud lips and furrowed his heavy brow. “Hmmm,” he said. And then he steepled his fingers and closed his eyes like he was deep in meditation despite the pounding dance music.

  It was two hours since they’d left Lucy’s house, and this was their ninth stop in a whirlwind shopping extravaganza. They’d already gone to five different stores in a high-end mall, a shop selling handmade leather boots, an amazing vintage store, and a makeup outlet for makeup artists. At each new destination, Lucy barely had time to get her bearings before Olivia, Liza, and Gil marched up to the counter with a very careful selection of completely perfect items, all of which Olivia paid for with bills peeled from a large roll she kept in her tiny purse. The whole thing was kind of overwhelming.

  And now there they were at some place called Cream, which looked like a hotel, sounded like a club, and was actually an incredibly expensive salon.

  To Lucy’s left, Olivia, Liza, and Gil sat themselves down in identical white leather salon chairs and started chatting with their stylists.

  In the mirror, Lucy saw Bastian open his eyes, nod at himself, and then without a single word take a pair of gold scissors f
rom the pocket of his black leather pants, and begin to snip.

  An hour and a half later, four girls stood side by side in front of Cream’s huge gilt-edged mirror. There was Liza, whose streaky mane was now a bit streakier; Gil, whose pixie cut was highlighted with chestnut; Olivia, whose roots had been touched up and whose hair was an inch or two shorter in length; and a mystery girl Lucy had never seen before—some badass rock chick who was apparently supposed to be Lucy.

  Badass rock chick Lucy had bright blonde, almost white hair, which had been teased and tousled and highlighted with the thinnest streaks of gold, actual shiny metallic gold as though strands of her hair had been dipped in something precious. She was wearing a charcoal-gray silk bra and a sheer white T-shirt printed with the logo of some obscure band Lucy had never heard of. Liza had borrowed a pair of hair-cutting scissors and chopped the top off, so the newly enormous neck hole kept drooping off the badass girl’s shoulder. She was wearing so many bracelets on each arm, they looked like a cross between jewelry and glittering armor. On the bottom she had on a short dark denim skirt, and a pair of maroon ass-kicker boots. Her eyes were ringed in dark liner. This girl didn’t just look ready to play a single song at a festival, she looked like she was ready to headline the whole damn show.

  “Bastian, you are magic,” Olivia said. And then she went up to the desk and paid the absurdly large bill.

  The four girls headed back out into the parking lot.

  “Well, sisters,” Liza said, her voice a throaty purr, “I guess all that’s left to do is go and break a heart.”

  The sky was the color of a ripe nectarine when they pulled into the SoundWave lot and Olivia popped the trunk.

  A guy was sitting in the back of a truck with three friends watching them. “Welcome to the Wave, ladies,” he said. He was about their age and had a smooth Southern accent. “Need help carrying your stuff?”

  Liza reached into the trunk and yanked out an enormous bag. “Nope,” she said. “But let me know if you boys do.”

  Five minutes later, they were approaching Tent City, their temporary home for the duration of the festival. The big show didn’t start until the next morning, but already the campgrounds were starting to look like a tornado blew through carrying a postapocalyptic carnival city, and left it there. There were tents everywhere, from little two-person pop tents to enormous canvas contraptions that could easily hold ten. A few people rolled their sleeping bags out right onto the grass. In the center of the field a girl and three guys were hammering the final spokes into a large teepee that stretched fifteen feet into the air. The outside was decorated with gold flowers that glittered in the orange glow of the setting sun. Off to the side, a girl was playing an accordion and another girl was playing a guitar, and they were singing. Lucy turned to get a better listen and spotted a Heartbreaker tattoo popping over the top of the guitar girl’s tiny stripy strapless dress.

  “Olivia,” Lucy whispered. “Look! I think that girl is a . . .” Lucy knew that other Heartbreakers existed, of course. But she’d never seen one in person before. The girl had short dark hair, high cheekbones, and bright red lips. She was stunning.

  Olivia just shrugged without turning. “Yeah, you’ll see some of that here. I’m sure we’re not the only ones who picked Beacon as a target.”

  “Don’t look so worried, Lulu,” said Liza, “they have nothing on us. Besides, if it was too easy”—she turned and grinned—“it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”

  Fourteen

  Within an hour the place was packed, but once Lucy got used to looking for other Heartbreakers, they were easy to spot. They had a glow around them, a shimmering golden sort-of-halo that Lucy remembered seeing that very first night, when through Olivia’s window she watched Gil break Ethan’s heart. Gil and Lucy wove their way through the crowd of cute music nerds, design geeks, hipsters, festival followers, and photo junkies taking pictures with their fancy giant-lensed cameras. Lucy spotted four girls with the glow to her right, laughing as they dipped their fingers into a tiny pot of what Lucy knew must be Empathy Cream. But none of that mattered now—Gil and Lucy were on a mission.

  They passed through a high chain-link fence out onto the enormous field where the concert would officially begin in the morning. A half-dozen eighteen-wheeler trucks were parked on the grass. Dozens of people in SoundWave Crew shirts were busy unloading equipment. A hundred yards away the main stage rose up into the sky.

  There was a very tall woman standing in the center of the field, black hair flopping down over her face, her head shaved on either side of the flop. She was holding a tablet computer and tapping at it in a way that implied she was very important, or at least very official.

  Gil marched right up to her. “Hi,” said Gil. She smiled brightly.

  “What do you want?” The woman put her hand on her hip. The tips of her nails were painted red, as though she had been clawing at something bloody.

  “We’re here to see Vicky,” Gil said.

  “And you are?”

  “I’m no one.” Gil smiled. “But my friend is Lucy Wrenn.”

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” She gave Lucy a look. Lucy felt herself shrivel.

  “She’s singing tomorrow in the New Voices tent. We were told to come by and check in?”

  “And who are you, her manager?” The woman snorted. “Well, the good news is that you don’t have to look for Vicky anymore because you’re standing right in front of her. The bad news is she has no idea who the hell you are or what the hell you’re talking about. And Vicky doesn’t make mistakes.”

  “Our mutual friend Paisley played you her tape and helped set this up.”

  “I don’t have a friend named Paisley.”

  “Are you sure? DJ? Really hot?”

  Vicky shook her head. And then snorted again. “DJ? What is this, 1998? You must be talking about Vicky, V-i-i-k-i is how she spells it, which should give you some sort of idea of the type of person she is.”

  “Well, can we see V-i-i-k-i Viiki, then?” said Gil.

  “She’s gone.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She left.”

  “But she was supposed to put Lucy on the list of performers.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you—she didn’t do lots of things she was supposed to do, hence my being here right now.” The woman clenched her jaw. “The lineup is already full. And your friend isn’t on it.”

  Gil smiled calmly. “She was only going to sing one song, though. So you could probably put her on the roster, right?” Out of the corner of her eye Lucy saw Gil grabbing something out of her little brown leather purse. Then Gil pretended to scratch her neck and as she did, slipped what looked like a glittering earplug into her ear.

  “Yeah, I could,” Vicky said. “But why would I?”

  Gil paused for a moment. “I’m sure you were dealing with enough already, having to work with that girl in the first place. And now that she’s gone, you’re probably doing two full jobs. Sorry, that’s a really crap situation. We’ll leave.” Gil linked her arm through Lucy’s as if to go. Then she stopped and cocked her head. “Out of curiosity, where did she go? Run off with some guy or something?”

  Vicky rolled her eyes. “Yeah, good guess. One of the guys in Monster Hands, actually. Last night.” A frown flashed across her face. A moment later it turned into a scowl. “And she left me to clean up her mess, of course.”

  “From what Paisley said, she was always a star-chaser. Not even cool or hot or interesting, she just fawned over anyone famous. Pathetic.” Gil shook her head. “I’m sure in a week they’ll be back, her begging for her job and him wishing he’d never made such a dumb choice. Sucks that she left you so much to do, though.”

  Vicky nodded. “Yeah.” She took a breath. “It kind of does.” She paused. “What did you say your name was again?”

  Gil smiled. “I’m Gil. And this is Lucy.”

  Vicky nodded again. “Listen, I shouldn’t be doing th
is, but”—Vicky smiled a tiny little smile—“Viiki had added a couple of her friends to the list last minute when we had a few spots left to fill. How about we just say she forgot to tell me about one of them . . .” Vicky swiped her finger across the screen and drew up a list of names. She crossed one out. “. . . but remembered to tell me about you. What’s your last name, girl?” Vicky looked at Lucy.

  “Wrenn,” said Lucy. “W-r-e-n-n.”

  Vicky typed it in. “Well, there we go,” she said. “You’re on tomorrow from four fifteen until four twenty-one. And you know what? What the hell, here.” She reached into her pocket and fished out a couple of vinyl straps. “These are all-access bracelets. Put these on and show them at any of the restricted areas, like the backstage pavilion or the jam tent.” She cocked her head toward a large white tent off behind the stage. “It’s this corny idea the organizer had, supposed to foster collaboration or something.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, wrists.” Gil and Lucy stuck out their arms, and Vicky snapped the bands around them. “Technically these are only supposed to be for the ‘big names,’ but whatever. Most of them think they’re too important to have to wear them.”

  “Thank you so much,” Gil said. She leaned in and gave Vicky a hug.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. But behind her grimace was a hint of a smile. “Just promise me you won’t fall in love with any rock stars.”