Maya shook her head. “I don’t know.” She blew her curly bangs up into the air. “This town, I swear to God. Weirdest place on earth.”
“You must miss California,” Emily said softly, pausing to watch a bunch of birds lift off from a nearby oak tree.
“Not at all, actually.” Maya touched Emily’s wrist.
“There are no Emilys in California.”
Emily leaned forward and kissed Maya softly on her lips. They held their lips together for five long seconds. She kissed Maya’s earlobe. Then Maya kissed her bottom lip. They pulled away and smiled, the afternoon sun making pretty patterns on their cheeks. Maya kissed Emily’s nose, then her temples, then her neck. Emily shut her eyes, and Maya kissed her eyelids. She took a deep breath. Maya ran her delicate fingers along the edge of Emily’s jaw; it felt like a million butterflies flapping their wings against her skin. As much as she’d been trying to convince herself that being with Maya was wrong, it was the only thing that felt right.
Maya pulled away. “So, I have a proposal for you.”
Emily smirked. “A proposal. Sounds serious.”
Maya pulled her hands into her sleeves. “How about we make things more open?”
“Open?” Emily repeated.
“Yeah.” Maya ran her finger up and down the length of Emily’s arm, giving her goose bumps. Emily could smell Maya’s banana gum, a smell she now found intoxicating. “Meaning we hang out inside your house. We hang out at school. We…I don’t know. I know you’re not ready to be, like, out with this, Em, but it’s hard spending all our time on this rock. What’s going to happen when it gets cold?”
“We’ll come out here in snowsuits,” Emily quipped.
“I’m serious.”
Emily watched as a stiff wind made the tree branches knock together. The air suddenly smelled like burning leaves. She couldn’t invite Maya inside her house because her mother had already made it clear that she didn’t want Emily to be friends with Maya…for terrible, almost-definitely racist reasons. But it wasn’t like Emily was going to tell Maya that. And as for the other thing, coming out—no. She closed her eyes and thought of the picture A had texted her a while ago—the one of Emily and Maya kissing in the photo booth at Noel Kahn’s party. She winced. She wasn’t ready for people to know.
“I’m sorry I’m slow,” Emily said. “But this is what I’m comfortable with right now.”
Maya sighed. “Okay,” she said in an Eeyore-ish voice. “I’ll just have to deal.”
Emily stared into the water. Two silvery fish swam tightly together. Whenever one turned, the other turned too. They were like those needy couples who made out in the hallway and practically stopped breathing when they were separated. It made her a little sad to realize she and Maya could never be one of those couples.
“So,” Maya said, “nervous about your swim meet tomorrow?”
“Nervous?” Emily frowned.
“Everyone’s going to be there.”
Emily shrugged. She’d competed in much bigger swimming events than this—there had been camera crews at nationals last year. “I’m not worried.”
“You’re braver than I am.” Maya shoved her sneaker back onto her foot.
But Emily wasn’t so sure about that. Maya seemed brave about everything—she ignored the rules that said you had to wear the Rosewood Day uniform and showed up in her white denim jacket every day. She smoked pot out her bedroom window while her parents were at the store. She said hi to kids she didn’t know. In that way, she was just like Ali—totally fearless. Which was probably why Emily had fallen for both of them.
And Maya was brave about this—who she was, what she wanted, and who she wanted to be with. She didn’t care if people found out. Maya wanted to be with Emily, and nothing was going to stop her. Maybe someday Emily would be as brave as Maya. But if it was up to her, that would be someday far, far away.
5
ARIA’S ALL FOR LITERARY REENACTMENTS
Aria perched on the back bumper of Sean’s Audi, skimming through her favorite Jean-Paul Sartre play, No Exit. It was Monday after school, and Sean said he would give her a ride home after he grabbed something from the soccer coach’s office…only he was taking an awfully long-ass time. As she flipped to Act II, a group of nearly identical blond, long-legged, Coach-bag-toting Typical Rosewood Girls strode into the student parking lot and gave Aria a suspicious once-over. Apparently Aria’s platform boots and gray knitted earflap hat indicated she was surely up to something nefarious.
Aria sighed. She was trying her hardest to adjust to Rosewood again, but it wasn’t easy. She still felt like a punked-out, faux-leather-wearing, free-thinking Bratz doll in a sea of Pretty Princess of Preppyland Barbies.
“You shouldn’t sit on the bumper like that,” said a voice behind her, making Aria jump. “Bad for the suspension.”
Aria swiveled around. Ezra stood a few feet away. His brown hair was standing up in messy peaks and his blazer was even more rumpled than it had been this morning. “I thought you literary types were hopeless when it came to cars,” she joked.
“I’m full of surprises.” Ezra shot her a seductive smile. He reached into his worn leather briefcase. “Actually, I have something for you. It’s an essay about The Scarlet Letter, questioning whether adultery is sometimes permissible.”
Aria took the photocopied pages from him. “I don’t think adultery is permissible or forgivable,” she said softly. “Ever.”