The Book of Love

  Phee looked at Lucy, blinking and shaking her head. Then she pointed to her phone. “Wait . . . so that makes you Lucy Wrenn. Are you . . . ?”

  Lucy felt herself blushing again. She nodded.

  “Dude, why didn’t you tell me your friend was playing in the New Voices tent?” said Phee. “That’s completely amazing!”

  Tristan smiled. “Well, because I didn’t know.” But he didn’t look hurt that she hadn’t told him, not like when she’d performed at Pete’s house. Now he just looked happy for her. “That’s incredible, Luce.”

  “A friend is friends with one of the bookers, so . . .” Lucy wished they would stop staring at her. “It’s not really anything.”

  The Heartbreaker was still watching her too.

  “Not anything?” Phee was shaking her head. “It is a huge deal!” She turned to Tristan. “We should get there early to make sure we can get up front for that.”

  “No, you guys don’t have to, it’s . . .” Lucy wanted to say she hadn’t really earned it. That she hadn’t earned any of it. But instead she just said, “I’m only playing one song—it’ll be over so fast, you guys really don’t have to come . . .” She looked at Tristan and Phee, standing there together—his eyes were glowing in the light of the fire. “I guess I should head back to . . .” She pointed behind her. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

  And when Lucy’s eyes met Tristan’s, she tried to somehow tell him everything with her gaze, to explain what she was trying to do, that she was doing this for him. But there was no understanding there. No, of course there wasn’t. Phee poked Tristan in the side and he grabbed her hand. And the two of them started thumb wrestling. “You’re mine, thumby,” Phee said, laughing.

  Lucy looked up one last time. She locked eyes with the Heartbreaker. The girl winked. Lucy’s heart was pounding when she turned to go.

  She walked through the crowd again, back toward their tent. Up in the sky there was a tiny trail of light as a falling star dropped down to the horizon. She stopped then. And she closed her eyes, ready to make a wish like she always did, like she’d always done ever since she was a kid. But in that moment she wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to wish for.

  Sixteen

  From fifty feet away, it was obvious the party had already started. Beacon’s trailer sat in the middle of the field, silver and sleek, glowing from within. Thirty or so guests were milling around outside it, sipping drinks, flirting, dancing. Dotting the lawn were a half dozen picnic tables. Tiny fairy lights were strung up between the trees. The crowd was moving slowly, orbiting around someone. And who was in the center? Beacon, of course. There he was, sitting at one of the picnic tables facing out, watching the crowd. A Heartbreaker girl sat on either side of him, radiating a soft glow only Lucy and her sisters could see. One threw her head back in a fake-looking laugh and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Amateur,” Liza said with a snort, and she smoothed her jeans over her hips.

  They had changed into the new clothes they’d bought on the way—dark denim, corset tops, feather earrings, leather boots, stacks of bracelets. “Subtle rock chick with a hint of burlesque” was what Olivia had called the look. “Sexy and noticeable, but not over-the-top.”

  Liza licked her lips. “Ready or not,” she whispered. “Here she comes.” She started walking toward Beacon, swaying a little in her ankle boots. Olivia, Gil, and Lucy followed.

  “. . . so I just told him, ‘Look, if you’re not up for some serious hard-core debauchery, then you probably shouldn’t even come on the tour, because when we party, we party.’” Beacon shrugged. “And he just couldn’t handle it.”

  One of the Heartbreakers laughed. “That is sooo sad,” she said. “It’s just like, heartbreaking, when people try to compete so far out of their league.” The girl caught Lucy’s eye. She smiled meanly.

  “I know,” Liza said back loudly. “People shouldn’t bother trying if they know they’re going to lose.” But Beacon didn’t even look up, and the Heartbreakers just rolled their eyes.

  Liza grabbed Lucy’s hand and pulled her closer to the table. “Go say something,” she whispered. Her breath smelled sharp.

  “I . . .” Lucy hesitated. This was it. She took a tiny step forward. “Hi, Beacon,” she said. Beacon either did not hear her or didn’t care.

  Lucy heard Liza snort. “Awesome,” she whispered. “You’re a conversational genius.” Her whisper was too loud.

  Lucy’s heart was hammering. “Hi, Beacon,” Lucy said again.

  Beacon glanced at her. “What’s up, ladies.” He nodded and half smiled. He seemed different from when they had met him earlier. Before he’d had his own kind of magic glow. Now he was just the jerk on the album cover.

  “This is pathetic,” Liza said. She turned, took two steps, and stopped so close to Beacon it looked like she was about to try to sit on his lap. “So this is your party, right?” She put her hand on her waist. Beacon looked up and nodded.

  “Well, where the hell do I get a drink?”

  Beacon motioned toward the dozen or so coolers on the grass a few feet away, then turned toward the other Heartbreakers and shrugged. Liza sauntered over and pulled out a can of beer, popped the top, and raised it to her lips. When she turned back, he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “To your shitty songs,” she shouted, then took a long swallow.

  The other Heartbreakers exchanged a look. Beacon just blinked blankly and then put his hand on the lower back of the second Heartbreaker.

  “All right,” Olivia said under her breath. “That’s probably enough of this.” She walked forward, slipped one arm around Liza’s waist, whispered something in her ear, and led her away. Gil, who had been quietly watching from afar, was suddenly standing next to Lucy.

  “Liza gets like this when she’s wasted,” Gil said. “She’s been on a mission since she got here. Drank like half a bottle of some guy’s wine while you were gone earlier too.” She shook her head. “And something tells me that the drunk-party-girl act isn’t Beacon’s favorite.”

  “No?” Lucy tipped her head to the side. “But what about that whole ‘When we party, we party’ thing?”

  “Luce, have you seen him take an actual sip of his drink since we got here? Look, he’s using his bottle like a prop but not actually drinking it.”

  Lucy watched as Beacon gestured with his bottle. The girls next to him took swigs of their drinks and he put his bottle down on the table. “My hunch is Beacon isn’t nearly so hard-core as he pretends to be. Or as cocky. But let’s just double-check on that.”

  Gil pulled Lucy off to the side. When they were far enough away, she reached into her bag and took out a little glass bottle with an eyedropper top. She dripped a drop in each of her eyes, handed the bottle to Lucy, and motioned for her to do the same. The drops felt cold, and for a moment the world was a big blur. When it came back into focus, everything looked different. A gorgeous-looking girl’s features were now distorted and grotesque, a big muscle-bound guy’s muscles had grown to twice their size. A tall guy was suddenly very short, and a short guy was suddenly very tall. Three thin girls had each gained about thirty pounds. Liza looked like herself but a more exaggerated version—bigger mouth, bigger boobs, smaller waist. Only Olivia looked exactly the same as she always had.

  “I-drops,” Gil whispered. “Lets you see people the way they see themselves.” Lucy turned to Gil. She looked different too: flat and dull, plain and forgettable. Kind of how Lucy used to feel before she met the Heartbreakers.

  “Check out our boy.” Gil pointed at Beacon. Gone was the handsome guy with the cocky smirk, and in his place was a regular-looking kid with big ears and a goofy smile. “Huh,” Gil said. “So here’s my take: He still sees himself as this dorky music nerd. He appreciates when people criticize his songs because the actual music is what he really cares about. He feels like he doesn’t really belong here in this ‘cool’ world, so he works extra hard at his persona. He believes that if anyone saw the real him,
they wouldn’t like him. He thinks he wants everyone to buy his bullshit, but my guess is that what he really wants is what everyone who spends most of their life faking it wants—someone who can see through the act.”

  Lucy turned toward Beacon. He was morphing back into his old self. Thirty seconds later, everyone was back to normal.

  “You’re really good at this,” Lucy said.

  Gil shrugged. “If you can’t be the hottest, be the smartest.” Her face clouded for a second. Then she smiled. “So anyway, I think we may need to help our sister out.”

  They made their way back to the picnic tables, where Beacon had Heartbreakers on either side of him.

  “Hey, buddy,” Gil said. “Your groupies are here.” She grinned.

  Beacon turned at the sound of her voice and smiled. “I remember you,” he said. He stood up and started walking toward her.

  “Beaks,” one of the Heartbreakers called out. “Where are you going? It’s time to do shots!”

  “Just a minute,” he said. But he didn’t look back.

  “I remember you too,” Gil said. Then she lowered her voice so that only Beacon and Lucy could hear. “Only last time you weren’t trying quite so hard.” There was such warmth in the tone of Gil’s voice, in the expression on her face, that her comment didn’t come out mean the way it could have. “Must be exhausting.”

  Beacon seemed taken aback for a moment, then quickly recovered. “Yeah, I’m exhausted,” he said. “Come to bed with me and we can sleep it off.” He gave what was probably supposed to be a lascivious smile. It looked forced.

  Gil just shook her head. “See? All that stuff you’re doing there, you don’t have to do that with me. All I’m trying to say is I think you deserve to relax every so often. And I get the feeling you’re a guy who doesn’t get to do very much of that.”

  “And you don’t think this is relaxing for me?” He motioned to his party.

  “Was that supposed to sound rhetorical?” Gil let out a little laugh.

  “Yeah, that came out, um . . .” He looked down. “Wrong.” When he looked up, his expression had changed ever so slightly. He wasn’t the guy on the album cover anymore. “But if kicking back with a bunch of hot girls isn’t relaxing, then I’m not really sure what is.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

  “You know what I think?” Gil said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think you know exactly what you’d find relaxing. And it has a lot more to do with listening to some old blues records by yourself in your trailer than it does pretending to drink with a bunch of strangers. Am I close?”

  Beacon tipped his head to the side, like he couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. “Really close, yeah,” Beacon said quietly. “Except it would be nicer not to do it alone.”

  Gil smiled. “You have any Little Walter?”

  Beacon nodded, his look of confusion slowly turning to one of delight. “It’s funny you mention that, actually. I just got a whole bunch of vintage vinyl online. Had it shipped here because I was so excited for it.”

  “Do you have his—”

  “Stop right there.” Beacon grinned. “Whatever you’re going to ask about, I can already tell you the answer is yes. Because I have everything he ever recorded.” He paused. “Um, we could go listen to some in my trailer right now if you wanted.”

  “Yeah,” said Gil. “That sounds like a really good idea.” And she nodded. “Lucy, do you want to come?” Gil turned toward her. Asking this was part of the act. Lucy knew what her answer was supposed to be.

  “No, thanks,” Lucy said. “I think I’ll stay out here. Have fun.”

  Gil leaned in and gave Lucy a hug.

  “How did you know about the records?” Lucy whispered.

  “Liza isn’t the only one who can hack into an email account,” Gil whispered back. “Or an eBay account, for that matter.” She kissed Lucy on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

  And then she turned to Beacon and took his arm. “Lead the way,” she said.

  “I promise I’ll take good care of your friend,” Beacon called to Lucy.

  Lucy watched them walk away, arm in arm. But it’s not her I’m worried about, Lucy thought. And for a single confusing second, Lucy felt sad. She knew that what was happening was a good thing—it was what they’d all wanted. But she could not help feeling suddenly kind of sorry for Beacon for the great distance between what he thought he was walking toward and what was actually ahead of him.

  When Lucy finally turned, Olivia, Liza, the two other Heartbreakers, and pretty much everyone at the entire party were watching as Gil and Beacon made their way toward his trailer. He held the door for her and motioned after you. Right before she stepped inside, Gil turned back and for just a second she looked entirely like someone else. She winked at Lucy. Beacon followed her in. And then the door swung shut.

  The three girls made their way across the field and back through the fence.

  Lucy felt an odd hollowness in her chest, almost as though she was homesick, although she wasn’t sure what or who or where she was homesick for.

  “I could have done it, you know,” Liza said. She was starting to sober up now. Maybe finally beginning to understand what had just happened.

  Olivia didn’t turn her head. She shrugged ever so slightly. “I think Gil has it covered now.”

  Seventeen

  Lucy lay there, breathing in the canvas-scented air, eyes closed but so far from sleep. When the three of them had arrived back at Tent City an hour before, Lucy had expected Liza to declare that the night wasn’t over yet—to suggest finding guys, more drinks, a better party. Instead she had simply stripped to her underwear and bra right there in the field, climbed through the door of the tent, curled up in a sleeping bag, and started to snore. Olivia had followed and a few minutes later, she was sleeping too. And now there was Lucy, dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, cheek pressed against someone’s balled-up sweatshirt. She’d been trying to will herself to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of images she wasn’t sure she wanted to see—Colin’s face as he walked away, Liza’s mother on the bed, her own mother sitting in that chair in the living room, Beacon’s hopeful smile, Tristan’s expression when she broke his heart, Tristan and Phee laughing.

  Lucy tried to focus on other things, to force the images out. What was Gil doing at that very moment? But it was impossible for her to imagine. The Gil in the trailer with Beacon was not a Gil Lucy had ever met before.

  There were sounds coming from outside the tent—the patter of footsteps in the grass, quiet words, hushed laughter.

  Lucy pulled herself out of the sleeping bag and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops, and then she reached up, unzipped the tent, and crawled through.

  Outside, a dozen people were sitting on blankets, cuddled up together like kids at a sleepover party, watching one of the giant movie screens. Lucy stood off to the side. The film projected onto the screen was in a language she did not recognize, and she could barely read the dusty yellow subtitles.

  Off in the distance, tents were lighting up and going dark like big fireflies sending secret messages.

  The movie watchers laughed in unison.

  It was cold out now, and Lucy pulled the sweatshirt more tightly around her. She wished she had her bike with her and could ride off somewhere, or even just around and around. Her muscles itched. She needed to move. She started to walk, weaving her way between tents and sleeping bags. She went slowly at first, then faster and faster until her legs burned and her heart pumped hard. And when the images tried to invade her brain, she walked so fast she left them behind her.

  Boom.

  Lucy didn’t know how long she’d been out walking when the fireworks started.

  Boom.

  Lucy’s heart lurched as light streaked across the sky.

  Boom, boom, boom. Pink showered down. Orange and green sea creatures spread out their legs. Then the embers faded to t
heir ghosts in smoke.

  People were coming out of their tents now, flipping on flashlights as the sky lit up gold.

  And there was Lucy, leaning back against the fence at the far edge of the field, watching it all. She was alone. And then someone was next to her.

  “No matter how many times you see them,” a girl’s voice said, “they’re never any less magical.”

  Lucy turned. Purple lit up the sky and the face of the long-haired Heartbreaker from the bonfire.

  “Hey,” said the girl. “I think we met earlier, right?”

  Lucy nodded as yellow exploded overhead. “So I guess you guys are also here for Beacon,” she said. There was no reason not to talk about it now, she supposed. Not since Gil was already with him.

  “Sure, but everyone else too. This whole thing, actually.” A swirl of rainbow sparks shot through the sky. “You sure as hell don’t get shows like this in Bridgewater.” The girl shook her head. She grinned as the fireworks lit up her face again. She brought her hands up, cupped her mouth, and let out a woo of sheer wonder and pure delight.

  How strange this other Heartbreaker was, how unlike Liza or Olivia, or even Gil now.

  Lucy could make out the silhouettes of dozens of people standing outside their tents, heads back, arms pointed up toward the sky. Out in Tent City someone woo-ed back, then someone else, their joyous cries echoing through the crowd. The girl cheered one more time. And Lucy felt an odd surge of jealousy toward this girl, toward all of them.

  “Your tattoo,” Lucy said. “How . . .” She wanted to ask this girl how she was a Heartbreaker but could still somehow be connected to all of these people.

  There was another flash of light, a swirl of pink and red and crimson. Only when Lucy turned toward the girl and looked again, she realized the mark over the girl’s heart wasn’t a locked Heartbreaker heart at all. The tattoo was a purple flower, with heart-shaped petals opened wide, vines and leaves curling underneath. She was just a regular girl after all, and yet there was something about her. . . .