Rating: heavy PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated. I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.
Author's Notes: The title and poetry are from the poem The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot. I hope they add to each chapter. For those who've pointed out that Summer doesn't know who Seth is and that he's never spoken to her: I've always assumed that Seth meant he hadn't spoken to her in years and she was not paying close enough attention to identify him easily. Clearly, if he knew her since elementary school and was in her sixth grade class to hear her poem, they've grown up together. His next door neighbor is her best friend. And he's well know enough to have a reputation as Ew! Seth Cohen! I'm sure they've exchanged words, at least in childhood.
*
Chapter 6: Ice
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
*
Monday, December 28, 1998:
I've never been so disappointed in my entire life! Mrs. Horn's shrill voice was audible through the study door. In contrast, Emily's tearful reply was indecipherable.
Summer slumped against her straight-backed chair, tilting her head back to look at the cathedral ceiling of the Horn's front hall. The room was ice cold; the Horns always kept the air conditioning up too high, even in winter. A chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, its hundreds of crystals catching the sunlight from the large arched windows and throwing sparkles onto the gleaming hardwood floors. The shifting lights blurred in Summer's vision and she swiped angrily at her eyes, determined not to cry. That would be the ultimate humiliation, as if this weren't bad enough.
The voices had dropped and she could no longer hear what was being said; she glanced anxiously at the study door. They'd been in there for over half an hour. She been instructed not to move, but would they even notice if she snuck over to the door to listen? Maybe she could peer through the keyhole and see if Emily was okay. She remembered how Fritz and Clara had taken turns looking through a door at the beginning of The Nutcracker; the sixth grade had gone to see it last week.
She and Emily had wanted to be ballerinas after seeing the show. It had replaced their current passion of being professional figure skaters, after a shared birthday party at the ice rink. They'd both begged for dance lessons together and been rewarded on Christmas morning with matching pink leotards and promises of lessons at the Huntington Academy of Dance. Summer had spent the rest of the day practicing her pliés and tendu, her hair pulled into a tidy bun. She wanted to be the best in the class when they started.
It was hard to believe that was just three days ago. Summer closed her eyes and wished desperately that the last four hours had never happened, that she'd never agreed to go shopping for ballet accessories with Emily today. Who could have predicted that a fun mall trip with her best friend could go so terribly wrong?
It had all been so simple at the time. They'd both been given gift certificates to Claire's Accessories, with the idea being that they could select new hair ribbons and ballet bags before their dance classes started the following week. Christmas presents that they got to choose themselves were their favorite. Mrs. Horn had left them at the store, promising that she'd be back in half in hour to take them to lunch at the California Pizza kitchen. It was their favorite restaurant, and they ate there every time they went to the mall.
Summer and Emily had a lot of the same favorites, now that they were best friends.
It had happened at the beginning of last summer, after a terrible fight between Emily and Holly. They were always fighting, but this time they hadn't made-up up before Holly had left for summer camp. By September, when Holly had returned just in time for school to start, Summer and Emily had been inseparable. They even had one of those necklaces, the kind where each person wore half of a heart that said Best Friends.
They loved the fact that they looked a lot alike, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and round faces. Emily was a little bit taller, but they were close enough in size that they could share clothes. They called themselves sisters, and sometimes teachers mistook one for the other. Now, most people referred to them as one person. Summeranemily. Are Summeranemily coming to the party? Wait until you hear what Summeranemily said during class!
Summer actually felt a little sorry for Holly, but she had started spending time with Marissa and now they were really close instead. And it wasn't like all the girls didn't still do stuff together, it was just that Summer and Emily sometimes did a lot of stuff alone as well. Summer loved the security of having a real best friend. Someone who would always be her partner in gym and defend her if necessary, someone who knew all her secrets.
Emily was the only person who knew about Cori. Everyone else just thought Daddy's girlfriend had moved out. No one else knew about the night Daddy had found Cori's syringes, how he'd ordered her to leave, how Cori had cried and pleaded and then — when Daddy hadn't relented — had broken things. Dishes and vases and the spun-glass animals over the fireplace that Summer loved. The pieces of glass had looked like glittering splinters of ice.
Daddy had called the police.
Summer had worn shoes inside for a week so she didn't cut her feet on any leftover shards.
Emily had been the first person she'd called, and she'd spent most of the month of June at Emily's house while the decorators Daddy had hired refurnished the house. Emily had helped Summer decide to paint her walls light pink, had helped her pick out her new grown-up bed with the white canopy. Emily had reassured her that she didn't need her babyish fish mural anymore. By the end, Summer's room had looked a lot like Emily's, except pink instead of light green. But that was good, because Emily had good taste.
Summer trusted Emily infinitely when it came to style and fashion, and she loved it when they picked out the same things. It was like a sign that they were made to be best friends. Which was why, that afternoon, Summer had followed Emily's example in picking out new purses, butterfly rhinestone bobby pins, and glittery make-up. Summer had thought that they should buy nail polish instead of the body glitter, but she always listened to Emily.
Which was why, a few minutes later, she had listened when Emily had suggested they sneak the extra stuff out in their bags instead of paying for it.
And that's the end of it! Mr. Horn boomed, making Summer jump. Go to your room!
The office door swung open and Emily came racing out, tears streaming down her face. She dodged past Summer without looking at her and hurried up the staircase. Summer could hear her door slam upstairs. Mrs. Horn followed more slowly, her expression hardening when she saw Summer. Smoothing a hand over her dark hair, she walked towards her.
I've called your father. Her voice was icy. I'll let him discuss this with you himself. She nodded to the stairs. You can wait with Emily.
Summer didn't hesitate, fleeing from the downstairs hall without looking back. She found Emily face down on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Summer asked tentatively. She climbed onto the sage-green comforter beside her friend. You okay? Emily shook her head against the pillow. Summer smoothed her hair. It's gonna be okay.
Emily sat up so fast that she half-knocked Summer backwards. Her eyes were red and puffy as she spat out, Linden Hall!
Summer stared at her best friend, confused.
Linden Hall, Summer! Emily's chin trembled. It's the boarding school in Pennsylvania that my mom went to! I start in a month! Her face crumpled and she pressed her hands against her eyes. I don't want to go to away!
Are you sure?
A few tears dripped off Emily's chin. They said they'd been discussing it for awhile, and this was the last straw. She sniffed, concluding softly. We're so stupid.
Summer didn't bother to agree, even though it was true. She hadn't felt right about stealing the items, but Emily could be so persuasive. Wouldn't it be cool, she'd wheedled, if they got these things now and still had money left to spend later? Summer wasn't scared, was she? Summer'd been stung by the implication of cowardice, and when Emily had explained that no one would notice because it was right after Christmas and everyone was returning things, Summer had agreed to do it.
She should have known better than to trust Emily. After all, it had been Emily who'd predicted that Luke would dump Marissa before the end of fifth grade. Emily who had said that Celeste wouldn't last longer than a month. That had been back in June, when Daddy and Celeste first started dating.
The wedding had been in August.
Celeste had been an assistant to the interior decorator Daddy had hired to redo the house. She was young and pretty and blond. At first glance, her arrival had been like a bright ray of sunshine coming into the Roberts' household. The walls had been stripped of dark wallpaper and repainted different shades of white, the carpeting on the stairs had been torn up and the honey-colored wood refinished. And Daddy had remembered how to smile.
Summer hadn't been sure what to make of Celeste. She'd spent so long mistrusting and dismissing Daddy's girlfriends, but Celeste had seemed practically perfect. Her demure lemonade-pink dresses and quiet dinner parties had been a welcome change after the chaos and decadence of Cori. The first time they'd been introduced she'd complimented Summer on being very mature, not or And her sweet smile, holding Daddy's hand as they'd told Summer of their engagement, had certainly seemed genuine.
Summer had been so excited: she was finally going to have a real family. A real mother to help chaperone field trips and drop her off at school. No more making excuses for why she couldn't have friends over, unable to explain that Cori was drunk at three o'clock on a Friday afternoon. She and Emily had spent all of July pouring through bridal magazines, discussing dresses and flower arrangements.
And when it came time for the actual fittings, Celeste had insisted that they make a day of it. Summer'd spent the morning being pinned into a silvery blue bridesmaid dress, and the afternoon eating lunch with Celeste in a fancy restaurant, feeling very grown-up. Celeste had taken her hand and told her how excited she was to be marrying Daddy, how sure she was that she and Summer would get along famously, how much it meant to her to be a role model for Summer.
The euphoria of that devoted attention had lasted exactly four hours.
Summer hadn't meant to overhear the phone call. She had just been walking to the bathroom, past Daddy's office, and had overheard Celeste saying, Of course he agreed. I told you, I've got him wrapped around my finger. She'd laughed gaily. I made him promise: three weeks in Greece...No, of course she's not coming! I told him from the start, I never signed on to mother some other woman's child!
Summer hadn't even told Emily about the conversation. It had been too embarrassing, after all her gushing about Celeste and the wedding, to admit that Celeste saw her as nothing more than an unwelcome annoyance.
The problem was the Celeste had wanted to marry a wealthy, single, unattached man. Two out of three wasn't bad, but it hadn't been good enough for her. And since she couldn't erase Daddy's past, she had decided that the next best thing was to ignore Summer all together. She seemed to think that if she and Daddy socialized with enough other young couples, if she kept the house looking as if only adults lived there, if she made it a point to constantly mention how much she and Bruce wanted to have a baby, then no one would notice the sulky eleven-year-old slipping past the dining room.
Summer wouldn't have cared — Celeste's behavior wasn't any different from the previous girlfriends — but Daddy seemed to be going along with it. She saw him occasionally on weekends, usually just as Celeste was whisking him out the front door to some fancy black-tie affair. He usually looked startled to see her, as if surprised to discover she was still living in his house.
Now she sat with one of Emily's pillows hugged to her chest, wondering what Daddy would say when he came to pick her up. One time, when she was eight, she'd purposely broken two wineglasses in the dining room while Daddy had a girlfriend over. He'd been furious, certainly, but the main thing that had stuck with Summer was the image of him sitting her down for a lecture and leaving his girlfriend alone in the living room. The discovery of this power, this ability to command Daddy's attention and time and steal him back, had remained with Summer ever since.
Somehow, the memory of that power made the idea of Daddy's impending anger more bearable.
Mrs. Horn shouted up the stairs. It's time for Summer to go home!
Summer gave Emily a swift hug, wishing she could say more. She wanted to somehow convey that she was sorry this whole day had happened, that she was sorry she had to leave, and that she'd try to help Emily come up with a plan as soon as possible. But all she could manage was, I gotta go. I'll call you later. Emily nodded, her eyes closed, and flopped backwards onto her bed.
Summer hurried down the stairs, her jacket in one hand, then froze as she reached the bottom. Celeste, not Daddy, was standing next to Mrs. Horn; Summer hugged her jacket tighter to her chest. Celeste managed an apologetic expression and concluded, I'm very sorry, Laura. You can be sure Bruce and I will be dealing with this. Come on, Summer. Her french-manicured nails were practically digging into Summer's shoulder as she steered her out the door. Summer climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt, trying hard to resist the urge to run away from Celeste and her pristine silver BMW.
I can't believe you, Celeste said icily as she pulled out of the driveway. Summer turned her face to the window and didn't respond. Celeste demanded, after a minute. Don't you have anything to say for yourself?!
Where's Daddy? Summer asked stonily, arms crossed over her chest.
He's still at work.
I wanna talk to him.
Too bad. Celeste kept her eyes on the road. You're stuck with me.
I'll say, Summer muttered sarcastically.
Celeste swerved so suddenly that Summer grabbed hold of the armrests to steady herself. The car rode halfway up onto the grass and another driver behind them honked angrily. Celeste took a deep, cleansing breath and turned to Summer, letting go of the steering wheel.
Listen, young lady, she hissed, her gaze so intense that Summer had to look away. I have had it up to here with your attention-getting, selfish, immature antics! Is it so hard for you to not be the center of attention for five fucking minutes?!
Summer had never seen Celeste lose her temper before, but she was too angry to be afraid. It was an opening for all the injustice she'd never been able to put into words before. Maybe if you didn't always act like I don't even exist! she hollered back, leaning forward against her seat belt. Maybe if you weren't trying to steal Daddy away from me!
Oh, is that what this is about? Celeste sat back, a small smile crossing her face. She shook her head in patronizing disbelief. I always knew you were a spoiled little brat, but I never dreamed you'd go this far!
Summer eyed her suspiciously. What do you mean?
Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. This whole shoplifting idea; it was all some stupid plan of yours to get attention from your Daddy. Celeste said the word like it left a nasty taste in her mouth.
But it wasn't even my idea!
Summer, please. I was hardly born yesterday. Celeste's tone was enough to make Summer want to hit her. Mrs. Horn already told me the whole story. You shouldn't have convinced Emily to steal stuff with you.
I didn't! Summer's anger changed to horror. It was—
Oh, stop lying. Emily told her parents that she tried to tell you it was a bad idea, but you kept calling her a coward until she did it. The Horns have made it very clear that you are not to see their daughter anymore. Celeste tilted her head, eyeing Summer appraisingly. Apparently you're a bad influence.
It was though someone had hit Summer in the sternum, knocking the wind clear out of her. Emily had told her parents that the stealing had been Summer's idea? She opened her mouth to reply, to defend herself, to say something, but no words came out. Even if she could have managed a coherent defense, the faint cold glitter of triumph in Celeste's blue eyes was enough to tell her it would be pointless.
I hope you realize now how stupid that was, Celeste said icily. Now your father's furious. He's always given you everything you ever wanted, and this is how you repay him?
Emily's fate suddenly loomed large in Summer's imagination. She knew that Celeste would love nothing more than to send her away, vanished into the depths of some boarding school dormitory. And now she had the perfect excuse to do so. Are — Summer's voice cracked on the word, and she tried again. Are you gonna get rid of me?
Don't be silly, Celeste said calmly, putting the car back into drive. People will notice if both you and Emily transfer midyear. We'll just hold our heads up high and all this will blow over. She glanced at Summer's miserable profile and sighed heavily. Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart. But you have to understand, when your daddy asked me to marry him, he told me he wanted someone who'd help him with you, someone who'd make sure you grew up properly. And I've been trying so hard, but sometimes you just make it so difficult!
That was a lie, Summer wanted to shout. Maybe Daddy had said that, and Celeste had agreed, but she certainly wasn't trying hard at all. She just wanted to smooth everything over, make everything nice; arguments were too messy for Celeste.
The car turned a corner and the sinking winter sun nearly blinded them. Celeste made an irritated noise and reached for her sunglasses. The stylish black lenses obscured her eyes completely. Her tone was cool and smooth now, completely composed. You know, I'm a very patient woman, but that isn't going to last forever. If you keep pulling stunts like this, your father and I might have to consider other living arrangements. Perhaps with your mother? Doesn't she live in New York?
It was then that Summer started to cry. She'd been fighting it for several hours, willing her chin not to tremble and her voice not to break — she'd never cried in front of one of Daddy's girlfriends before — but this was too much. Mommy hadn't contacted her in over two years. Maybe Celeste didn't know that, but then again, she had been the one to remove all traces of Mommy from the house. All the old photo albums, abandoned books and clothing, half-empty bottles of perfume — all gone. Summer was starting to forget what Mommy looked like all together.
And now Celeste was looking at her pityingly and it was just all too much for Summer to bear. Mommy was gone forever, Emily had framed her for their shared crime and now she was leaving too. And Daddy didn't even want to deal with her anymore. Summer pressed her knuckles to her mouth, trying to stifle the embarrassing sobs, and stared out the windows. They drove on in silence, while the cool air from the air conditioner turned the tear tracks on her cheeks to ice.