“Maybe you should go to California with Parker and Sam,” Johan suggests.
“No,” Parker and Sam both say.
“But hey,” Parker adds, looking at me. “I have you to thank for my five-thousand-dollar scholarship toward expenses at Stanford.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Our best dance?” he says.
“The merengue,” I say.
“That’s the one. You know how college financial-aid guidebooks always mention obscure scholarships no one’s heard of because it’s hard to believe they exist?”
“I guess?” I say. I never cracked a single guidebook for college. I left all the problem-solving aspects of my potential college future to my parents.
Not okay, Ilsa.
Parker says, “There’s a Merengue Society of New York City that sponsors an annual scholarship. They picked me.”
“Based on what?” I ask. “An essay about the merengue?” Parker says, “Yes, I did write an essay about the merengue.”
I was kidding about that.
“No shame! But the deciding factor was the video I submitted from our competition days. So, my parents also say thanks. For shining me so bright you saved them five K a year.”
“That’s amazing, Parker. You deserve it.” I mean it.
The breakup still hurts, but much less so. Sam was so embarrassed and caught between a rock and a hard place right after. He blamed me, of course. I’m the reckless bitch who always gets blamed. Sam doesn’t need to know about the part of the breakup that Parker and I kept to ourselves.
It started when I was a week late. I told Parker. He was supportive, as always. He went to the pharmacy and brought over a test for me to take. I peed on the stick. But during the few minutes we were supposed to wait for the result, I freaked out. I asked Parker if we could go ice-skating in Central Park. We did. It was winter, and snowy, and magical, and I wanted to stay snuggled in Parker’s arms forever.
When we got back to my bedroom and looked at the result, it was positive. It was strange. I felt relief rather than panic. My worst fear was confirmed, but somehow I felt like it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me. Maybe it was the best. It would give me a future. I’d never want to trap Parker, or keep him from going to college and achieving his dreams. But I knew that no matter what happened in our lives, I’d always have this piece of him.
For a black guy, Parker certainly turned pale that afternoon. “It’s your choice,” he said. But I knew which choice he wanted.
We sat on the secret for three days. I didn’t want to make an announcement until I knew for sure. We went to Planned Parenthood. We wanted to show how responsible we were by going there before talking to our families.
This time, the test came out negative. The doctor explained I’d probably had a false positive on the store-bought test. I was supposed to read the test results within the time frame specified on the box. We went ice-skating instead. The doctor said that it wasn’t unusual for evaporation lines to appear on the test strip as the urine dried. That people who read the results after the recommended time had elapsed often confused the appearance of urine evaporation lines with a faintly positive test line.
Parker broke up with me a week later. He wasn’t ready to be in a relationship that serious. I wasn’t, either—but I would have done it anyway.
Sam raises his glass. “A toast to Parker and his merengue scholarship!” he says.
The group raises their glasses to Parker and downs another sip. Except for KK, who abstains from the declaration of “Cheers” but double-downs the champagne.
And then, Sam lifts his empty glass.
I see his signature—
—hesitation.
I—
Er, universe, what should I do—
But—
—I am scared and frustrated and confused.
Sam takes aim—
—and smashes Czarina’s precious handblown crystal heirloom champagne flute against the wall.
sixteen
SAM
Because I am tired of her seeing me as the favorite. Because I am tired of both of them—Czarina and Ilsa—seeing me as the favorite. Because this is goodbye, because this is done. Because I’m so tired of worshipping breakable things. Because I wanted to see the impulse through. Because I wanted to see the look on all their faces. Because I wanted to do something that I’ve kept inside of me so they could see what’s been inside me all this time. Because it’s not like Czarina is going to take them to Paris, anyway. Because Czarina told me not to tell Ilsa about Paris and because I actually followed her orders. Because I’m not sure whether I want to go to California or whether I just want everyone to be able to believe that I’ll go to California. Because it’s almost festive to throw the glass against the wall when you’re done with the drink, like there’s no going back from the toast you’ve raised. Because I am tired of Ilsa looking at me like I’m an emotional invalid. Because I am twisted enough to think that if I become the one who doesn’t care, then she’ll become the one who cares, that we exist to achieve balance as a pair because we are so deeply imbalanced as individuals. Because I know that’s not how it works. Because why bother smuggling something around the globe and across the decades if you’re only going to keep it under glass? Because I think it’ll make Parker laugh. Because I might as well scare off Johan now instead of later. Because when Ilsa says she’s happy for me, she never sounds like she means it.
The moment after it happens, I should be terrified. The moment after it happens, I should feel remorse. I should run to pick up the pieces.
But instead, now that I have everyone’s attention, I decide to pose a question.
“How do you leave?” I ask. “How do you get out of the fortress?”
Ilsa is still looking at me in shock, so I know she’s not going to start. It’s Johan who
