Wish - A Novel by Alexandra Bullen

8/3/2019 Wish - A Novel by Alexandra Bullen

1/555


2/555

Wish

A Novel by Alexandra Bullen


3/555


4/555

For my parents


5/555


6/555

Prologue

Some girls are wishaholics. You know the typeForget twinkling stars and shiny copper pennies

These girls stare at a digital clock for the bette

part of a morning, waiting for 11:11. And when

comes, usually they wish for something, well, leshan wish-worthy. A date to the formal. A passing

grade. A sudden windfall, or at least enough to

buy those jeans that everybody else has.

I dont look for those girls. I look for the onewho know what a wish is worth.


7/555


8/555

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

0

1

2


9/555

3

4

5

67

8

9

2021

22

23

2425

26

27

2829

30

31

32


10/555

33

34

35

3637

38

39

4041

42

43

4445

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

TeaserCopyright


11/555


12/555

1

You must be Olivia.

His shoes came into focus first: squish

oafers with soft raised edges and thick, sensibl

oles. They reminded Olivia of mushrooms, no

only because they were the color of mushroom

the beige, rubbery, pre-chopped kind usuallold in plastic-wrapped containersbut als

because they could easily have been made from

ome species of fungus.

I t is Olivia. Mushroom Foot shifted hi

weight uncertainly from one toadstool to the othe

Isnt it?

Olivia Larsen uncrossed her arms and sa

up. Had she been sleeping? She remembere

nding a hidden spot on the grass by GoldeGate Preps double-wide doors just as the be

was ringing for lunch. She remembered starin

numbly at the sidewalk, getting an ankles-ey

view of her new classmates as they filed in an

out. But she could tell by the way the boy wa


13/555

ooking at her, sideways from behind a mop o

dark, springy hair, an embarrassed little half smil

witching into place, that hed been standing ther

or a while.

Sorry, she said, swatting the seat of hekhakis for patches of dirt. That was all sh

needed: to be paraded around on her first day o

chool with wet brown splotches all over her but

I mean, yeah. Im Olivia.As soon as she stood up Olivia felt dizzy, lik

he insides of her brain were spinning. Sh

quinted, burrowing her fingertips into the side

of her temples, the dull headache that had bee

with her for months firing up behind blue eyes.Im Miles. Im supposed to give you a tou

Our moms work together, right? He thrust on

hand forward for her to shake and then quick

pulled it back, as if hed accidentally touche

omething hot. Are you okay?

Olivia tried to nod, but a full-body yaw

tretched her mouth wide open, her eye

eflexively squeezing shut. She hadnt had a soli

nights sleep since her family had arrived in Sa


14/555

Francisco a few days before. Strange, new cit

ounds were keeping her awake, and tha

morning shed stared restlessly at the digita

numbers on her alarm clock, praying it woul

orget to go off.You must be exhausted, Miles warml

allowed, directing a handful of hair away from hi

orehead.

Olivia swung her saggy backpack over onhoulder. She almost hadnt brought itwhat wa

he point of a book bag when you didnt yet hav

any books? But it was the same bag she

carried to school every day since the beginning o

eventh grade, a navy blue JanSport with fadenylon straps, and it reminded her of home.

We can do this another time, if you want

Miles said, shoving his hands into the pockets o

his thin-wale, dark green corduroy pants. The

were belted below the waist by a fraying piece o

ope, tied into a knot and bulging out from unde

he hem of his muted orange and blue button

down shirt.

No, Olivia said quickly, feeling bad. It wasn


15/555

his fault their moms worked at the same law firm

downtown and had arranged for him to show he

around at lunch, like some kind of high schoo

playdate. Ill be fine.

Miles untucked his hands from his pocketsclapping them together and then cringing, like h

was surprised by the sound theyd made. Okay

o, he said, clearing his throat, are you ready fo

he grand tour?Olivia tried her best to smile as Mile

attened his long fingers against the lobby doo

and pushed it open.

The lobby was oddly shaped, with an angula

oof that jutted out over the entryway and uturistic front desk built in against one pristin

white wall. The receptionist was a youngis

woman with choppy hair the color of a pin

highlighter and silver studs in both eyebrows, wit

a cordless phone wedged between her shoulde

and ear.

Miles gestured to her with an open palm

Olivia, Bess. Bess, Olivia. The receptionis

ooked up quickly and flashed her a smile a


16/555

Miles turned on his squishy heels. Shall we mov

on?

Olivia followed Miles around the corner an

hrough a narrow, dark hallway that snake

around the perimeter of the whole school. GoldeGate Prep was a confusing combination o

modern and medieval design, with a

unassuming slate and glass exterior disguisin

he labyrinth of hollow corridors and stonarchways within. It felt like the building had bee

enovated from the outside in, and then forgotten

Its not so bad once you get used to it, Mile

offered, as if reading her mind. Olivia smiled an

did her best to keep up, hiding another yawn withe sleeve of her peach-colored cashmer

cardigan. It was almost as if basic huma

unctions were beyond her control these days

She was lucky if she managed to string a few

ntelligible words together in between.

Sorry if I suck at this, Miles muttered

pushing ahead and dragging one hand along

hick wood panel that split the wall waist-high

There are people who actually do this here. Yo


17/555

know, like, give tours and things, he sai

apologetically. But not on a random Thursda

after spring break, I guess

Olivia nodded, her legs stiff and her mute

black boots heavy as cinder blocks as shtruggled to keep up.

Speaking of which, Miles said, pausing at

crossroads where one hallway abruptly bisecte

another, what are you doing here, anyway?Olivia felt familiar crimson splotche

blooming on her face and neck. She had lon

ince accepted the unique dermatological curs

of wearing her emotion for all to see, an

arranged her mass of strawberry blond curls shat they fell over one shoulder, hoping to hide he

blushing profile.

Er, sorry, Miles stammered. That sounded

way less harsh in my head. Its just, we don

usually get anybody new this late in the term, an

all my mom told me is that you moved. She didn

ay where from.

Boston, Olivia offered, digging her fist

deeper into the fuzzy pockets of her sweater. Thi


18/555

was always her answer, even though it was a lie

Nobody had ever heard of little suburban Willis

which, despite being only twelve miles from th

Boston city line, might as well have been i

another state for all of the time Olivia had spenhere.

Wow, Miles said, his dark, bushy eyebrow

arching skyward. You didnt drive all the way ou

did you?No, Olivia said a little too loudly, recoiling a

he idea of a cross-country road trip with he

parents. They werent exactly the word-game

and-trail-mix type of familyat least not anymore

We flew in over the weekend so my mom coultart at work, she explained. I guess the firm

made her an offer she couldnt refuse.

Right, Miles said, with a careful nod tha

aid he knew there was more to the story. Tha

wouldve been a killer commute.

Olivia managed a smile as he pushe

hrough another set of sturdy glass doors and le

hem outside.

Welcome to lunch, he announced, letting hi


19/555

ecycled-rubber messenger bag fall from hi

houlder.

The courtyard was a big open circle, wit

dappled sunlight playing on the crooke

cobblestone. Scattered around clusters of lowables and benches, students were chatting an

aughing.

Wheres the cafeteria? Olivia asked

quinting back through a wall of arched windowsTheres the Depot, I guess. Miles shrugged

aking an orange from his bag and digging in t

peel it with his fingers. Little caf next to th

obby. They have pretty decent coffee, fresh frui

vegan pastries, whatever. Most kids bring fromhome. If I have a long enough break, I usually g

out.

Go out? Back at Willis, the only time they

been allowed to leave was for field trips or wit

he occasional forged note.

The Haights right around the corner, Mile

explained, nodding vaguely behind them. Its kin

of a scene, but there are a couple good coffe

hops and burrito places. Of course, you have t


20/555

ook past about a thousand head shops to fin

hem

Olivias eyes wandered from one group o

tudents to another. Lunch at home had been lik

a road map of the social circles at Willis. The lonorange table by the windows was alway

eserved for Olivia and her group of friends. Th

heater freaks sat on the floor by the hall. Th

computer kids played with their newest gadgetby the salad station. The jocks threw greas

handfuls of Cajun fries at each other over by th

vending machines. It was the same day after day

year after year, and it was all Olivia knew.

Here there were no designated areas, and tOlivias untrained eye, it seemed like ther

werent really any discernible groups. Everyon

was completely unique and somehow also exact

he same. It looked like lunch at the Unite

Nations, if the United Nations dress code wa

kinny jeans, vintage dresses, American Appare

weatshirts, and scrawl-font tees.

Arent you hungry? Miles asked.

Olivia opened her mouth to answer but wa


21/555

ilenced by the whir of a skateboard rolling pas

She looked up to see the rider: a tallish boy wit

haggy, burnt blond hair, and clear green eye

hat sparkled in a way that made it difficult fo

Olivia to look anywhere else.He smiled when their eyes met, a slow

riendly smile, like he was recognizing her from

omewhere else. Olivia felt her cheeks flush a

he pushed at the ground with one broad stroke ohis navy shell-toed sneaker. He glided down

tone path and behind one of the buildings juttin

corner wings, and was gone.

No, thanks, Olivia mumbled dreamily

before snapping to attention. I mean, not really.already ate. It was half-true. She hadnt eaten

but she wasnt hungry, and hadnt been fo

months. Her mother had even started to commen

on her collarbones, but Olivia didnt care. Sh

wasnt trying to lose weightshe just wasnt tha

nterested in food anymore.

So did you find them yet? Miles asked

pulling a bag of organic pita crisps from hi

nsulated lunch cooler. He popped the bag ope


22/555

and held it out to Olivia.

Find who? Olivia asked, politely shakin

her head.

The VIPs, Miles said between cracklin

bites. The in crowd. The see-and-be-seens.Olivia scanned the courtyard again.

They work hard to blend, he went on. An

heyd never admit to being who they are. But

you look hard enough, youll find them.Olivias gaze landed on a small table nestle

against a far wall, partially shaded by the low

hanging branches of a pale pink magnolia. A

crew of bohemian-chic hipsters were passin

around plastic trays of sushi rolls, fingerinchopsticks, and laughing. Lounging on a woode

bench was a thin, ginger-haired guy in a blac

and tan checkered shirt, his long legs spread ou

before him. Folded on his lap sat a baby-face

Asian girl, twirling locks of the boys red cur

between purple-polished fingertips.

On the mosaic tabletop another slender gi

with dramatic eye makeup and silky dark hair sa

n lotus position, carefully sorting through a bag o


23/555

granola and tossing ingredients up in the ai

catching them in her open mouth. She was

tudy in layers: striped kneesocks over ribbed

olid tights, all tucked snugly into worn, thick

heeled motorcycle boots. A long wool sweatewas drawn at the waist over a high-collare

dress, and a thin knit scarf wrapped endless

around her neck and shoulders.

Ding ding ding! Miles sang out, jolting Oliviout of her trance.

Calla Karalekas, he muttered, feignin

disinterest. The planet around which lesse

moons revolve. Her fathers some kind o

ambassador to Greece, and her mother iapanese royalty.

Shes pretty, Olivia muttered, needlessly

She wasnt pretty. She was possibly the mos

tunningly gorgeous human being Olivia had eve

een.

Shes all right, I guess. Miles shrugged.

youre into that kind of thing.

Olivia watched as Miles fidgeted with a faux

eather cuff, rolling it back and forth against th


24/555

narrow knobs of his wrist. Which, clearly, your

not, she said.

Hey, he insisted, straightening his elbow

nto an exaggerated stretch, Ive gone to schoo

with this crowd since the sixth grade. Ive haome time to observe.

Seems like you do a lot of observing, Olivi

pointed out, tucking one thumb into the hol

where the sleeve of her sweater had worn thinand hugging her elbows to keep warm. The lat

March sun was strong and steady, but every s

often a thick breeze would send little quakin

hivers up from the base of her spine.

I learn a lot that way, Miles said, unscrewinhe top of his ceramic water bottle and taking

ip. Ive learned a lot about you.

For a moment Olivia leveled her eyes wit

his, so big and dark that they appeared opaque

Like what? she asked.

Like youre hiding something, he sai

quickly, settling back against the wall and restin

his solid arms against bent knees. Nobody skip

own in the middle of the school year for n


25/555

eason, he continued, narrowing his eyes int

ttle slits.

Olivia shrugged, crossing and uncrossing he

ankles and staring at a patch of weeds pushin

up between the crooked stone tiles.So what was it? he demanded. Mess

divorce?

Olivia shook her head and swallowed.

Trouble with the law? His voice was lighand easy. A glimmer of a smile was twitching its

way across his lips.

She swallowed again. This was the part sh

hated the most. The fact that no matter what sh

aid, no matter how she said it, that smile woulvanish in an instant. She would feel awkward. H

would feel like an ass. And theyd finish what wa

eft of their lunch in an uncomfortable silence.

Come on, he pleaded, as if defying he

houghts. There has to be some reason yo

moved all this way. I mean, my moms firm i

good, but its not thatgood Miles waggled hi

eyebrows, urging her on.

Olivia steadied her shaking hands agains


26/555

he table. My twin sister died.

Her voice was tiny and unfamiliar. No matte

how many times she said those words, sh

couldnt escape the feeling that it was a line sh

was repeating from somebody elses life. Maybhe main character in some sappy movie that sh

and Violet had seen on TV, cracking jokes abou

he lame acting but secretly feeling unspeakab

ucky that nothing so terrible would ever happen them.

My mom grew up here, Olivia went on

rying anything to ease the tension of the momen

Thought it would be good to try something new

Or old, I guessMiles cleared his throat and fidgeted with th

empty plastic bag of chips.

Olivia didnt need to look up to know tha

hed been right: His easy smile had vanished i

an instant. He felt like an ass. And they finishe

what was left of lunch in an uncomfortable silence


27/555


28/555

2

Dad? Olivia called into the downstair

hallway, kicking the front door shut. A pane o

decorative glass shuddered behind the layers o

cardboard her father had taped to one side. Th

house, a four-story Victorian with canary yellow

hingles and lopsided periwinkle shutters, was ivarious stages of disrepair. Olivia was having

hard time remembering that nothing actually di

what it was supposed to do: doors didnt close

windows didnt open, and

What the hell? Olivia swore as one boo

dropped straight through a torn-up two-by-fou

catching around her ankle and tossing he

ideways into the wall.

Apparently, floors werent floors.After extracting herself from the subfloor, sh

dropped her bag in a heap by the stairs an

tarted back toward the kitchen. The commut

home from school had been almost mor

exhausting than the rest of the day combined


29/555

Shed had to switch buses and had ended u

raveling ten blocks in the wrong direction

ultimately deciding to get off and walk bac

hrough the Mission.

Hey, O, Mac Larsen called as Olivitepped into the kitchen, turning down the volum

on the black-and-white TV balanced precarious

over the sink. He was kneeling on the counte

elbow-deep in a ceiling light fixture. A wiry man oaverage height, Mac was always crunching hi

knotted limbs into tight, awkward spaces, to get

better look at a leak or a plug.

Shouldnt you be wearing gloves? Olivi

craned her neck to see her fathers handswisting free a broken bulb.

Probably, he grumbled. How was school?

Olivia opened the stainless-steel refrigerato

he only new appliance her father had insisted o

buying immediately, her eyes scanning rows o

containers of half-eaten takeout, two bottles o

ketchup, and a lonely onion.

Fine, Olivia answered, unfolding som

eftover Chinese and picking around with he


30/555

ngers. What happened to the floor?

Her father wiped handfuls of dust on hi

pants, faded jeans hed had since college, an

motioned for her to pass the lo mein. Wha

oor?Olivia handed over the greasy containe

The floor that used to be in the hallway, sh

aid, as he settled on the countertop.

Had to get in there to look at some pipesMac explained through a mouthful of col

noodles.

Olivia grabbed a plastic bottle of water from

an opened twelve-pack on the sawdust-covere

counter, starting back out into the hallway to heoom.

Moms gotta stay late at work, he calle

after her.

Olivia stopped short in the hall. Again? sh

asked, without turning around.

Her father nodded and hopped down from

his perch. Looks like were on our own fo

dinner.

Delivery? Olivia guessed, slouching bac


31/555

against the molding door frame and feeling

way dangerously under her weight.

What do you feel like?

Olivia shrugged as her father squeeze

behind her to get to the fridge. You know, heaid, thats one thing about this city I might b

able to get used to. Anything you want to eat, yo

got it. Chinese, Italian, Indian, sushi

You hate sushi, Olivia interrupted.So what? her father continued. I can st

get it at midnight. Cant get a piece of toast a

midnight back home.

Thats true. Olivia nodded, trying for chippe

and starting back into the hall toward her room.Her dad had always tried to make it bette

no matter what it was. When Olivia was six an

prained her ankle jumping off dunes at the

beach house on Marthas Vineyard, Ma

decorated her crutches with iridescent streamers

When their mother, Bridget, was on a case i

North Carolina for three weeks, Mac had give

he girls leftover cans of house paint, setting them

oose in their rooms and, more importan


32/555

defending their artistic choices (sky blue fo

Olivia, a Pollock-inspired smattering for Viole

when Bridget returned.

One of the most infuriating parts about Viole

being gone was that there wasnt a thing Macould do to fix it.

Hey, Mac called again. School. Was

errible? He leaned back against the sink an

was gripping the edges of the speckled linoleumcountertop with his rough, calloused hands. It wa

obvious he was trying to lounge, or at leas

approximate the posture of somebody engage

n casual conversation. But his face was straine

and his voice sounded like hed been swallowinhards of glass.

Not terrible, she said, forcing softness.

Make any friends? he asked.

Olivias stomach tightened. Of course sh

hadnt made any friends. Shed gone through he

whole life with a built-in social ambassado

Violet had always been a chameleon, able to b

anyone at any time, if it meant easy conversatio

and a fast friend. Olivia thought of herself mor


33/555

ke a gecko. Or a newt.

She opened her mouth to speak but stoppe

when she looked closer into her father

bloodshot eyes, hollow and heavy at the edges

His once-red hair seemed to be attacking itseland the scruff on his chin was tinged with mor

gray than before.

He hadnt signed up for this, either.

It had been her moms idea to pick up aneave Willis in the middle of the school yea

Olivia had thought it was a bit of a coincidenc

hat her mother had randomly been offered a to

position at a prestigious firm in San Francisco

he same San Francisco where she happened thave access to a house that had been in he

amily for almost a century. Never mind that u

until then the house had been referred to only a

that deathtrap Great-aunt Peggy left usall of

udden, everything was falling into place. Bridge

had a new job, Olivia had a new school, and Mac

an out-of-work contractor, had a new project.

A project that, by the looks of things so fa

was quickly turning into a thousand little projects


34/555

none of which seemed to be approaching an

orm of completion.

A couple, Olivia lied. Everybodys reall

nice. And the buildings cool. Really old, with lot

of big windows.Yeah? Her dad had turned to face the sin

and was already fidgeting with a stubborn fauce

She could keep talking, if she wanted to, but sh

knew shed said enough. Hed gotten what hneeded. Shed communicated. She wa

unctioning.

All was well in familyland.

She mumbled something about homework t

he back of her fathers head, and left him to fhe things he still could.

Olivia collapsed onto her bed after a quick an

quiet meal of Indian takeout with Mac, her bod

inking into the lavender comforter shed brough

rom home. She closed her eyes and inhaled th

hick, downy fabric, which still reminded her of Its

and Bitsy, the twin calico kittens the girls ha

adopted when they were six. Theyd only bee


35/555

allowed to keep the cats for a few months, befor

Bridget had started breaking out in head-to-to

hives and discovered she was allergic.

Olivia remembered squeezing Violets han

as they walked up the long driveway back to thMSPCA, tears streaming from Violets chin an

careening onto the gravel. Olivia promised he

ister that one day theyd move into a house o

heir own and have twenty cats and eat nothinbut Oreo sundaes and watch all the TV the

wanted. This had worked, and Violet had stoppe

crying, until they got home and she realized tha

heir blankets still smelled like the kittens, who

after much begging, had been allowed to sleep ihe girls room.

Olivias eyes were closed when a crisp, hai

ckling breeze blew in from the open window

attling the doors in the room on their loosenin

hinges. She sat up and saw that one door wa

lowly creaking openthe narrow, knotted doo

at the back of her room.

Connected to Olivias bedroom and facin

an overgrown garden at the back of the hous


36/555

was a tiny corner room with a low, garret-styl

oof. A little bit smaller than Olivias room, it had

wo arched bay windows with a cushioned lov

eat between them. When Olivia had announce

he wouldnt be taking this room, but the morordinary, larger, street-noisy room beside it, he

parents hadnt argued. Nobody said anything, bu

hey all knew.

The smaller room was the one Violet woulhave wanted.

And when the moving trucks arrived and a

hat was left to unload were several unmarke

boxes, nobody said anything then, either. Bu

omehow the boxessealed after a silenafternoon spent stowing Violets thingsha

ended up in that room, behind two doors tha

would always stay closed.

Olivia slowly rose to her feet and walked ove

o the door in the corner. She reached out an

held the cold brass knob, lingering for a moment

It was almost as if she could feel Viole

waiting for her on the other side.

A chill spiked the hairs on the back of he


37/555

neck and she snapped the door swiftly shut.

The gauzy white curtain ballooned again an

Olivia moved to the window. As she tugged

open even wider, sharp city sounds cam

ooding ina squealing car alarm, the steadwhoosh of wet traffic, boisterous after-dinne

voicesas if shed unmuted a movie she hadn

known she was watching.

Before she knew what she was doing or whyOlivia had maneuvered her narrow limbs throug

he window and onto the rickety little balcony

lick from an evening drizzle. She carefully pulle

herself to her feet and looked down. From fou

tories up, the city felt formal and strange.Hugging her sweater close, she used

leeve to mop a puddle from one side of th

ailing and settled herself down, looking u

oward the sky.

Back at home, after their parents had gone t

leep, she and Violet would climb out of Olivia

bedroom window, swinging up and over a

angled eave and leaning flat against the whit

cedar roof. The girls would whisper whatever new


38/555

gossip they had to share, which usually mean

Violet did most of the whispering. Gazing up a

he clear night sky, Olivia would redraw

constellations with her finger, and Violet woul

hold her breath, searching for shooting stars twish on. It was the kind of quiet that was almos

cary, like they were the only two people left o

he entire planet.

On her new balcony, Olivia tried to block ouhe rhythm of cars and snippets of conversatio

oating up from street level. Yellow sidewal

anterns blurred in her vision as she made out th

hadows of low town houses stretching bac

oward the horizon. The pointed rooftops blendeogether against a blue-black blanket of sky,

ayer of dark fog and heavy clouds obscuring an

tars that might have been hiding behind them.

Olivia wanted to feel disappointed. Sh

actually triedto miss home. But really, she didnt.She couldnt.

It was around February when Mac an

Bridget sat Olivia down at the dining room tabl

and told her she wouldnt be going back to Willi


39/555

High after spring break. Olivia remembere

taring through a square, crystal vase at th

hape of her fathers knuckles, thick and distorte

as they rapped against the faded oak

Predictably, Bridget did most of the talking, hevoice careful and composed, as if she wer

bracing herself for outrage or, at the very leas

mpassioned dissent.

Olivia couldnt remember if shed actualaid anything at all. Probably a question or tw

about logisticshad they already booked

ight? When would they be leaving?but an

words shed spoken would have been muttered i

he cold, empty voice of somebody who didnhave enough left in her to care.

That night, she lay awake in her old canopie

bed, trying to convince herself to feel somethingShed done the same thing after Violets funera

the whole afternoon shed moved from room t

oom in their house like a robot, her feature

rozen, her body aching and hollow. She hadn

cried once, and, staring at her reflection in th

oval-shaped mirror hanging in the downstair


40/555

hallway, shed wondered if forcing herself t

conjure up specific details about her sister woul

emind her body how to feel again.

She remembered the way Violets nos

witched and wrinkled at the bridge when she waconfused. The way her laugh, her real laugh

eserved for when something was truly, actuall

unny, caught in the back of her throat, an

ounded a little like snoring.But still, no tears.

And again, when Olivia learned shed b

eaving her house, her school, all of her friends a

once, she knew the appropriate reaction woul

have involved some kind of resistance. But nmatter how hard she tried, she couldnt acces

anything inside of her that resembled a nostalgi

winge.

Since Violets death, the house had felt to

big and silent, anyway. And at school, she wasn

ure what was worsebeing the new girl, o

being the girl who looked exactly like the other gi

whod died over the summer, the girl who love

everyone and whom everybody loved.


41/555

The girl who was so much fun.

Olivia had packed all of her things a wee

early, living out of one suitcase and sleeping o

pare sheets. As far as she was concerned

hed already left. No place would ever be homagain, no matter where it was or how much of he

own stuff she had around her.

And now, looking up at the foggy sky, sh

ried to feel sad that she couldnt see any starsShe wanted to want something that reminded heof Violet. She wished she could feel somethinganything, standing in the darkness, alone.

But all she felt was cold.

Olivia shivered, crawled back inside thwindow, and drew the curtains tightly shut.


42/555


43/555

3

Her eyes still blurry with sleep, Olivia fumbleher way to the kitchen early Friday morningeeling automatically for the pot of coffee he

ather always brewed before going out for th

paperi.e., to sneak an illicit donut and cigarette

Usually, Olivia wished he would give thesndulgences a rest, but secretly she loved that he

dad was consistently less undercover than h

hought, always returning with telltale crumbs o

his collar, or the subtle musk of stale smoke in hi

hair.

Olivia tipped the solid metal urn over the li

of her favorite Red Sox mug, watching with mute

rustration as the last lukewarm drops of grain

quid sputtered out. Olivia had only recentnherited her parents caffeine addiction, an

whether it was out of conscious resolve o

absentminded oversight, Mac had yet to adjus

his morning measurements accordingly.

Too foggy-brained to fathom brewing anothe


44/555

pot, Olivia filled the teakettle with water instead

Violet had detested Olivias growing coffee habi

nsisting that green tea was a healthie

alternative. Olivia thought green tea tasted lik

gunmetal, but had saved the economy-size boViolet had ordered online from some healthy

ving website, just in case.

Olivia leaned against the sink, waiting for th

water to boil and staring vacantly at the slopinkitchen table in the center of the room. The hous

had been partially furnished when the Larsen

moved in, with a few worn, antique piece

covered with drop cloths and wedged awkward

under stairwells. Mac claimed he would refurbishem all, explaining how easy it would be to polis

here, reupholster there. But Bridget had insiste

hat Mac haul just about everything to th

Salvation Army, in order to make room for the

new dining set and leather sofa shed picked ou

rom a Crate and Barrel catalogue on the plane.

The kitchen table, with one floppy leaf and

huge, branch-like crack twisting across it

middle, was the one piece Mac had managed t


45/555

hold on to, most likely due to the fact that the on

me Bridget spent anywhere near the kitche

was early in the morning, before she was awak

enough to complain.

The kettle squealed and Olivia poured hersea cup of tea before shuffling upstairs to get read

or school. From the back room on the secon

oor, envisioned as a full-service gym but now

doubling as a storage space/living area, Oliviheard the hushed dialogue of the television an

he slow, methodic thumping of her mother on th

readmill.

A track star in high school and college, wit

yearbooks and scrapbooks to prove it, Bridgepent an hour every day, no matter the day, no

matter the hour, chugging on the treadmill an

watching the trashy daytime soaps she ha

TiVod the afternoon before.

Olivia, is that you? Bridgets sturdy voic

called out, midstride.

Olivia stalled on the landing, bringing the mu

close to her nose and inhaling a wet cloud o

herbal steam. She closed her eyes for a momen


46/555

and leaned back against the wobbly baniste

before turning and making her way back down th

hall.

Bridgets routinely frosted dark blond ha

was pulled up in a tight, high ponytail, heprominent cheekbones dotted with little patche

of redthe only sign that she was working at a

Her slender arms pumped almost imperceptib

at her sides, her gaze fixed on the small TVnestled precariously in the middle of an empt

bookshelf.

Morning, Olivia said quietly, resting th

angle of her hip on the doorjamb and tilting he

head toward the set, wondering which disgruntlehousewife or conniving stepfather was holdin

court today. She could never understand how he

mother, who spent thirteen hours a day deposin

white-collar witnesses and decoding multimillion

dollar contracts, could lose herself so thorough

n the melodrama of overacted soaps.

Good morning, Bridget huffed, wiping he

orehead with the back of one slim wrist. I though

we might go shopping later.


47/555

Olivia turned her head from the televisio

back to the treadmill, her eyes wide wit

crambled alarm. What? she asked, trying t

emember the last time her mother had propose

hat they do anything together. I mean, why?Bridget jabbed at the electronic buttons o

he dash, lowering the incline and slowing he

pace to a brisk walk. Theres an event Saturda

night, she said, gripping the handles, hemanicured fingernails wrapping delicately aroun

he shiny metal bars. A cocktail party at th

office, to welcome meall of usinto town.

Tomorrow? Olivia asked, as if she migh

already have plans. It seemed the only possiblway out.

Bridget nodded. All of my nice things are st

n boxes. She sighed. And its been a whil

ince weve shopped for you. What do you think?

Olivia tucked one bare foot back behind th

other, her eyes blurring over the hypnoticall

cycling mechanical belt. It hadnt been a while.had been exactly seven months, two weeks, an

hree days.


48/555

The only thing Violet and their mother ha

ever agreed on had been the overwhelmin

atisfaction achieved by touching things in fanc

tores, trying them on, wrapping them up, an

bringing them home. Although it was not pastime Olivia had much interest in, she ofte

agged along, if only to watch Violet vet

Bridgets more conservative selections. It was th

one occasion on which Bridget deferred to heeccentric daughters expertise, and Olivia love

o see her mother, for once, in the position o

asking for help.

Now the idea of the two of them wanderin

aimlessly in and out of boutiques, not ontrangers in a new city but doubly lost without th

guidance of their shopping guru, was enough t

make Olivias inner ears ache.

I dont know, she said. I dont really feel lik

going to a party.

Bridgets light eyes were sharp and focuse

as she slowed to a stop and stepped off th

machine. Well, you dont have to come, sh

poke evenly. But it might be fun.


49/555

Olivia shifted her weight from one bare foo

o the other, every cell in her body begging to b

eleased and allowed to run back upstairs to he

oom, where nobody asked her to do things lik

hop or be polite.Phoebe Greer will be there with her son

Bridget continued. Miles, I think. I asked her t

arrange for him to show you around yesterday

Did he find you?Yeah, Olivia managed. He found me.

Good, Bridget confirmed. Then youll hav

omebody to talk to at the party. She laid a firm

hand on Olivias shoulder as she squeezed pas

her into the narrow hall. But, she said, with ght, awkward smile, only if you feel up to it.

Just about the last thing Olivia felt up to doin

was getting dressed up and standing awkward

with plastic cups and tiny plates of hors doeuvre

and not enough hands to eat them. But she knew

hat smile. And she knew where arguing woul

get her. This was her mothers game, and Olivia

only option was to play along.

Fine, she grumbled. But I dont need to g


50/555

hopping. Im sure I can find something in m

closet to wear.

Bridget nodded and gave Olivias shoulder

ny squeeze. Its up to you. She shrugged

miling coolly and inching past her daughteoward the stairs.

That afternoon, Olivia stood with her hands on he

hips, staring vacantly into the open closet.Her second day at Golden Gate had bee

nterminably long and deafeningly quiet, an

hed somehow managed to get by withou

uttering more than forty-eight words. Shed gotte

o each of her classes early, introduced herself the teacher (Olivia Larsen, Im new here; nice tmeet you = 9 words x 5 classes = 45 wordsaid, Excuse me, when shed stepped o

omebodys toe, rushing on her way to AP

Calculus (two words), muttered a curt and hurried

Hey, when shed spotted Miles in the courtyar

one word), and smiled tightly when shed clumsi

bumped into the mysterious, green-eyed skate

boy in the hall (zero words).


51/555

Shed been slowly unpacking since she go

off the bus, starting with the boxes full of he

avorite books and collection of tattered journals

But the new bookshelves her father wa

upposedly building were still in pieces in hihop in the basement, and she hadnt felt muc

ke writing in her journal lately. Shed moved on t

he unopened boxes of clothing, stuffing sweater

nto the bottom drawers of the clean, whitarmoire her mother had picked out at Potter

Barn. The last thing she wanted to think abou

was finding a dress for the stupid cocktail even

omorrow night, mostly because she didnt wan

o go, but also because her collection of formawear, recently unfolded and draped on a few sa

wire hangers in the closet, was officially pathetic.

There was the thick, strapless gown she

worn to the sophomore semiformal, which ha

made her feel glamorous at the time, but weighe

about two hundred pounds and was way too fanc

or the office. There were a few flowery cotto

undresses, sleeveless and not at all appropriat

or any place other than the beach. And of cours


52/555

he mauve taffeta number shed worn as a junio

bridesmaid in her cousin Loreleis wedding, wit

puffy sleeves and a high, cinched waist that ha

made her feel like an Oompa-Loompa on the on

occasion she was forced to wear it.Olivia groaned and fell back onto her bed

covering her face with a pillow.

Shopping had been Violets number on

extracurricular. When Olivia and her mother hagone through Violets things, even they had bee

astonished to discover the amount of clothin

hed managed to amass over the years. Sh

hadnt been a spree-shopper, coming hom

weighted down with bags from Saks oNordstrom. It was all done piecemeala so

cotton tunic from that little boutique in Wellesle

Center; a pair of enormous sunglasses from

ea market in Harvard Square; the vintage Pucc

dress shed found in a Somerville consignmen

hop and was planning on wearing to the junio

prom

It was smooth satin, almost liquid to th

ouch, and swirled with bright concentric circles.


53/555

had originally been astronomically expensive, bu

had been marked down to just within her budge

because of an enormous, side-baring tear at th

ipper.

Violet didnt care. Shed had to have iclaiming that a seamstress would be able to fix i

no problem. But shed never gotten the chance t

nd one.

Olivia sat up on her bed, her feet landinheavily on the carpet.

The dress.Slowly, she stood and walked across th

oom to the door in the corner. Before she ha

me to change her mind, she took the knob in hehand and turned it, pulling the creaky door ope

and stepping inside.

The room was flooded with hazy sunlight an

tale, trapped air. There was no furniture, only th

windows, the built-in love seat, and a sad row o

boxes against the far wall. Olivia held her breat

and walked purposefully toward the boxes. Sh

knelt beside them, running her hands along th

masking tape.


54/555

Carefully, afraid of making a sound, Olivi

pulled back the cardboard flaps. Her nostril

mmediately tingled at the familiar scent, a mix o

ea salt and strawberry-kiwi shampoo.

She plunged her hands into the first boxdigging around pairs of cowboy boots an

metallic ballet flats. The second box wa

accessories, mostly chunky charm necklaces an

printed scarves. It was in the third box that shound the dress, folded neatly near the top.

She let her fingers graze the soft, cool satin

he dizzying print starting to blur behind he

clouding eyes. Her fingers caught in the hangin

hreads by the zipper, poking through the gapinhole down the side. All she needed now was

eamstress.

Crawling to her feet, she brought the dres

out in front of her, held the fabric against her skin

Of course.

Violet had had the answer all along.


55/555


56/555

4

The rain just wouldnt let up.

It was a familiar refrain, and everyone from

he punky receptionist at school to the perk

weather blonde on the six oclock news seeme

o have an opinion about when the rainy seaso

would finally end.Before the move, Olivias mother ha

enthusiastically reminded her daughter that the

couldnt be arriving at a better time of year. You

wont see a drop of rain from March to October

hed said.

So far, it had rained at least once a day. And

not always just sprinkles. Heavy, sky-splittin

downpours, the kind that made wearing jeans o

getting out of the car a gamble.Olivia had left her stoop and started dow

Dolores just as Friday evenings downpour wa

getting under way, a single, fat drop splattering o

he sidewalk beside her boot. Almost an hour o

loshing through puddles of murky curb wate


57/555

ater, shed decided that searching for

eamstress in the rain wasnt one of her mos

brilliant ideas. After trudging from one soake

corner to another, scanning the hodgepodge o

window displaysa cute little antique furniturhop, a watch repair store, and about ten yog

tudios in a six-block radiusshe was fair

certain that she wasnt going to find a tailor in he

neighborhood.She was pulling the collar of her blac

Windbreaker tighter around her neck when a dim

ght in a dark corner storefront caught her eye.

was in a building on the corner across from th

manicured median of palm trees, a building shwalked past every day on her way to the bus stop

A burgundy awning jutted out from the di

concrete wall, and Olivia had always assumed th

pace was empty. There was even a laminate

ign in the window, one that she could have swor

used to say for rent. But as Olivia walked close

ducking under the awning, which flapped wildly i

he wind, she saw that the sign was actually

handwritten note:


58/555

Mariposa of the Mission.Olivia cupped her hands to the glass an

peered inside. The glare from a yellow streetligh

oating overhead made it hard to see anything

and she could just barely make out the hulkin

hadows of garment bags and sewing machines

t looked like an abandoned dry cleaners, minu

he mechanically rotating shirts.

Olivia blinked, her eyes traveling across thoom. In the far corner, lounging on a threadbar

divan, was a small, dark-haired girl. She glance

up from the paperback book open in her lap, an

ooked pointedly through the window at Olivia

almost as if shed been waiting for her.Olivia quickly dropped her hands to her sid

and hopped back, startled. Was it possible tha

all this time, the very thing she was looking fo

had been around the corner from where she

tarted, just a few hundred feet from her own fron

door? Why hadnt she seen it before?

Olivia took a deep breath, remembering th

dress shed stuffed inside her purse, and pushe

carefully through the heavy glass door.


59/555

Tinny chimes rang out as soon as sh

tepped onto a straw welcome mat, and Olivia le

he door shut quietly behind her. The girl in th

corner had gone back to her book, and Olivi

tood awkwardly at the entrance. Half-dressemannequins haunted every corner of the sma

pace, staring down from high perches with blan

aces. Folds of fabric were layered on low

wooden tables, and hidden in each nook andarkened corner were miniature glass butterf

gurines of varying shapes and colors. A sof

yellow light fell in shafts from two tasseled lamps

cutting rays of swimming dust across the floor.

Olivia cleared her throat, but the gicontinued reading, her thick, dark brows furrowe

o a bushy point. Excuse me, Olivia ginger

began. Do you?

Were closed, the girl said, noisily flipping

page. She was remarkably tiny, with sticklik

mbs that were swallowed by the round crimso

cushions of a vintage love seat. The love sea

tself was missing two legs, and had bee

propped up on one end against a broken, box


60/555

ecord player.

Closed? Olivia quietly repeated, he

houlders sinking. She glanced back through th

darkening window, already imagining a night o

mauve taffeta travesties, the itchy lining, thhorrific swishing sound it made around her knee

when she walked. She was reaching one hand t

he door when a sharp voice called out from

behind her.Wait!

Olivia looked back to see that the girl ha

abandoned her book, which now lay ope

acedown in her lap. It was one of those steam

omance novels usually buried deep in the dollabin outside used bookstores, with a half-nake

couple swooning across the cover.

Ive seen you before, the girl said, staring a

Olivia with tight, beady eyes. You live nearby?

Olivia nodded and swallowed. Yeah, she

answered, her mouth dry and her tongue slow

We just moved in down the street. I was just, um

on my way home and I thoughtI mean, I was jus

ooking


61/555

Looking is allowed. The girl smiled

evealing a crowded row of what looked like bab

eeth and pulling herself up to her feet. She spok

with a slight and indistinguishable accent, clean

articulating each syllable and sound. Oliviwondered if she was foreign, or just one of thos

people who talk funny to be different.

I know that, Olivia said, suddenly defensive

The girl reached behind a patchwork quhat was hanging from a clothesline strung acros

one corner of the room, and pulled an old broom

rom where it had been leaning against a wobb

chest of drawers. Much like the girl, all of th

urniture in the shop appeared arthritic, like might buckle or fall if you sneezed in its genera

direction.

Im Posey, she said, lazily swatting th

broom across a patch of dusty red tiles.

Olivia took a step closer. Olivia, she said

her hand hanging awkwardly between them

Posey hesitated before extending her own hand

which was so small and spindly Olivia worried

might shatter into pieces. From close up, Posey


62/555

brown eyes were flecked with bits of yellow

orange, and blinked curiously through dark

crooked bangs. There was something about th

way she stared that made Olivia uncomfortable

ke she suddenly wanted to put on another layeof clothes.

Nice to meet you, Olivia, Posey said

potting a toppled pile of fabric swatches at he

eet and bending over to straighten it. As shtood, the corner of her shoulder bumped u

against a table leg, and one of the small butterf

gurines tottered from side to side. Posey hurrie

o keep it from falling, delicately steadying it

rembling wings to stillness.I like your butterflies, Olivia said, realizin

mmediately how lame it sounded. I mean

heyre nice. I like butterflies, you know; theyre

Posey smiled. Thanks, she said. The

were my grandmothers.

As Posey carefully lifted her hand from th

ornament and went back to sweeping the floo

Olivia recognized a familiar flash across he

eyes. They were my grandmothers. It was th


63/555

ook of someone who had lost something she

never get back.

Was this her shop? Olivia inquired.

Posey nodded. She started doin

alterations for people in the basement, shexplained. Pretty soon, she had a following

There were articles in magazines, the Styl

ection of the paper

She must have been talented, Oliviventured.

She was, Posey said, the lost look in he

eyes lingering as she continued sweeping th

ame superclean spot on the floor. Ive tried t

keep it going without her, but Her voice traileoff as she gestured with her eyes at the empty

un-down shop, before vigorously tossing he

head from side to side, as if to shake ou

omething that hurt too much to remember.

So what can I do for you? Posey aske

abruptly, tilting the broom back against the corne

and settling her petite frame onto a woode

ocking chair.

Oh, Olivia said, dropping one hand into he


64/555

bag and searching for the soft folds of fabri

nside. I have this dress, and it has a really bi

ip up one side

Posey gestured for Olivia to spread th

dress out over her knees. She searched thmaterial lovingly with her hands, her small, agil

ngers quickly landing on the torn zipper. Its

beauty, she said. Vintage?

Olivia smiled uncertainly. I really have ndea; itsit wasmy sisters.

Posey nodded, staring past Olivia, or throug

her.

Great style, she remarked approvingly

hoisting herself up and laying the dress over thback of an empty chair. Definitely a dress fo

omeone who knows how to have a good time.

Yeah, Olivia said. That was Violet.

She hadnt meant to sound so sad, but sh

could tell as soon as the words escaped that the

had landed hard.

Posey smiled, her eyes now light an

winkling. Come back next week, she said

olding the dress back up and placing it on top o


65/555

her book. Is Thursday good for you?

Olivia anxiously chewed at the inside of he

cheek and crossed her arms. Thats the thing

he said. I kind of need it by tomorrow.

Posey froze, one hand still resting on thcouch, the other curling into a tight little ball in he

ap.

I know its short notice, Olivia apologized

My mom is making us go to this reception thingand I dont really have a choice. Its not really

big deal. I mean, Ill just be standing in a corner a

night, probably, so it doesnt matter what I wear.

ust thought, I dont know, if there was any way

Posey looked up with her head tilted to onide. Her eyes held Olivias for a long momen

before shifting across the room. In between tw

bare windows was a child-size wooden desk

cratched and complete with a built-in seat. Th

urface was bare except for a single spiral-boun

notebook, lying open with a pencil beside i

Leave your address, she said softly. I can dro

t off tomorrow.

It wasnt until Olivia exhaled a heavy sigh o


66/555

elief that she realized she hadnt been breathing

She hadnt thought the dress was so importan

but something about the look in Poseys eye

ent a flood of raw emotion washing over he

body, like standing under a bitter-cold waterfalwith the sun at your back.

Olivia nodded once and walked to the desk

writing her address in careful print at the to

corner of the open page.She turned to the door. The sky was streake

with a cloudy pink trail, the sun disappearin

behind a row of pastel houses at the top of th

hill.

Olivia turned back to wave good-bye, buPosey was already lost again in her book. Sh

wanted to say thank-you, or something like it, bu

eared the words would be too plain, too loud t

mean what she wanted them to.

Olivia smiled and stepped out onto th

idewalk, where the air was moist and thic

enough to bottle.

At last, the rain had stopped.


67/555


68/555

5

Olivia, are you in there?

Olivia sat wrapped in a fluffy white bath towe

at the foot of her bed, staring dumbly at th

garment bag lying open beside her.

Your father went to get the car, her mom

continued from the hall. Meet us out front in minute?

Sure, Olivia said flatly. Ill be right there.

Just as Posey had promised, a flopp

garment bag with Olivias name safety-pinned t

one side had arrived on her stoop that afternoon

Olivia reached for the zipper and pulled it dow

lowly, careful not to catch any loose fabric in it

wake. She tugged the front flap open, angling th

hanger to free the material, and gasped. Sinkinbackward onto the bed, Olivia dropped her eye

o the floor, then brought them back up for

econd look, which only confirmed what she ha

known from the moment the dark, heavy fabri

had peeked through the side of the bag.


69/555

This was not Violets dress.

First of all, this dress was black. All black. N

piral satin prints, no contrasting colored circles

The empire waist had become a drop, and th

narrow, delicate straps had been replaced with hick halter, plunging into a deep V at the neck.

wasnt that the dress was uglyit was simply, i

act, not hers.

Olivia sprang to her feet. It must be mistake, she concluded out loud, opening th

bag wide and angling the gown back in place

She was tugging the stubborn zipper back acros

he front, when a crumpled piece of pape

uttered onto the floor.She bent down to pick it up, unfolding wha

ooked like a business card. The words Mariposof the Mission were typed on the front, above tark, rudimentary graphic of a small golde

butterfly. Olivia flipped the card over and saw tha

a note had been scrawled on the back. Sh

tared at the sloppy, childlike handwriting, he

eyes blurring the six little words and setting them

wirling. Part of her hoped that if she stared lon


70/555

enough, they might morph into something not s

devastatingly useless, like a shopping list or

ecipe for lasagna.

OLIVIA: TRY IT ON FIRST. POSEY.

She balled the card up in her palm an

ossed it at the wall.

Do you need any help?Olivia jumped in place. Her mother was st

tanding on the other side of the door. No, sh

called out. Im fine.

Silence, then the staccato clatter of hig

heels disappearing down the hall.Olivia sat down on her bed and put her hea

n her hands. She could say she didnt feel we

which was certainly the truth. But even befor

hed fully played out the scenario in her mind

he knew it wasnt an option. Her parent

wouldnt buy it. Theyd see it only as a sign tha

omething was wrong, which would initiate chain of events involving probing but meaningles

questions from her mom, and sidelong


71/555

uncomfortable glances from her dad.

Fine, she grunted. She hauled herself u

rom the bed and in one swift motion unhooke

he dress, lifted it over her head, and slipped

down over her bare shoulders.A full-body shiver started up from the base o

her spine, and tiny blond hairs stood up all ove

her arms and at the back of her neck. Olivi

arched one foot and nudged the closet door ahe way open, turning to face the full-length mirro

hat had been left hanging inside by whoever ha

ved there before. She watched her reflection, he

mouth moving slowly into the shape of a perfect

ounded O.If she hadnt been the one to take the dres

out of the bag, she never wouldve believed it wa

he same gown. Where on the hanger it fe

hapeless and heavy, on her body it seeme

uspended in air. Where it had looked boring an

imple in the bag, it now exuded sophisticatio

and elegance. It was as if Posey had molded th

abric with her inside of it.

A long, blaring honk rose up from the stree


72/555

outside her window. Her parents were waiting.

Olivia took a deep breath and stuck her fee

n a pair of old patent-leather high heels. As sh

bent down to guide one heel with her fingers,

ash of color caught her eye. Tucked near thnseam, at the very bottom of the dress, was

ny, embroidered butterfly. Olivia pressed he

nger against it, as if maybe she could flick it off.

But it was there to stay.

Olivia leaned against one of the high, roun

ables that had been arranged in an ope

emicircle around the lobby of Bridgets offic

building downtown. The building itself wasnt verbig, dwarfed by the skyscrapers huddled togethe

a few blocks in from the water. But the lobby ha

an elegant, old-world feel, complete with low

hanging chandeliers and pivoting brass arrow

over mirrored elevator doors.

When theyd first arrived, Bridget ha

paraded Mac and Olivia around the room

perimeter, making introductions and promptin

Olivia to deliver sound bites about her new schoo


73/555

and the transition from East to West Coast. Bu

Mac had quickly found the bar, and Bridget ha

been swallowed into a crowd of coworkers. Olivi

had had no choice but to stake out a table in th

corner, already piled high with discarded cocktanapkins littered with shrimp tails and tooth-picks.

Before, when Bridget had dragged the girl

o functions or events, Olivia and Violet would fin

ways to entertain themselves, stealing sips oheir dads Stella Artois and making fun of th

tuffy suits trying to impress each other. As long

as they were in it together, even a boring cockta

eception could be almost fun.

Now, with nobody to laugh with, Olivia femore alone than ever.

Killer dress. A raspy voice spoke suddenl

rom over her shoulder. Is it Prada?

Olivia turned to find a girl at her elbow

blinking behind tortoiseshell glasses. She looke

a couple of years younger than Olivia, and

couple of heads shorter, too. Her hair was fin

and white blond, arrayed around her head in tin

ttle buns that stuck out in frantic points.


74/555

Olivia smiled politely, glancing carefully from

ide to side, hoping to see her father flagging he

down from somewhere across the room.

Seriously. The girl was nodding vigorousl

and maintaining eye contact for just a bit longehan Olivia was comfortable returning. Her brigh

blue eyes were heavily lined in wet-lookin

charcoal, with shimmery gray shadow stuck to th

corners of the lids. Like, reallyhot, she addedor effect.Despite the girls elastic gold miniskirt, blac

shnets, and a fuzzy mohair sweater, there wa

omething soft about her, the way her pint-siz

eet seemed to swim in her metallic ankle bootsor the dimples in her pink, chubby cheeks.

Thank you, Olivia said softly to the plasti

cup of raspberry seltzer squeezed between he

palms.

Im Bowie, the girl said, nudging Olivia

orso with her shoulder, as if this was a

alternative to hand-shaking Olivia was not awar

of. Bowen, technically, but it sounds too muc

ke an airplane, I think. And besides, my dad wa


75/555

a Ziggy Stardust fanatic.

Olivia nodded, still secretly scouting the lobb

or an excuse to duck away.

Or so Ive heard, Bowie added with

knowing laugh. Man, what is taking Miles song?

Olivia looked up sharply as Bowie wave

one hand wildly in the air above them.

Miles! she called, pointing witexaggerated movements at the top of Olivia

head. Look what I found!

Miles emerged, walking toward them from

he crowded makeshift bar set up at the lobby

ront desk. He was easy to spot among the sea ouits, in wrinkled linen pants and the sam

hreadbare, tangerine and blue checkered button

down hed worn to school the day before. And, o

course, the mushroom loafers.

I could hear you screeching from across th

oom, Miles hissed, awkwardly clutching tw

glasses slosh-full of red wine and lowering them

o the table. Please dont get us thrown ou

again.


76/555


77/555


78/555

Olivia took another, heartier sip of her win

and tapped the rounded toe of her shoe agains

he polished travertine floor. Which ones you

mother? she asked, less because she care

about the answer and more because she didnwant Miles to think she was upset.

Miles swayed back on the heels of hi

mushroom shoes and scanned the minglin

crowd of San Franciscos legal elite. There shs, he said, pointing toward a large oval window

beneath which stood a striking African-America

woman, talking to a group of enraptured mal

attorneys. She was wearing a pin-striped sui

oftened by stilettos and a chartreuse silk scared in a perfect knot at her neck.

And shes remarried to the David Bowi

guy? Olivia asked. She was straightening ou

acts and hadnt meant to be funny, but Bowi

was suddenly laughing so violently that

appeared she might choke.

Not exactly, Bowie said after catching he

breath, gesturing back to where Miless mom wa

tanding. Another woman had joined the sma


79/555

group, younger looking, with angular features,

leek black bob, and rimmed eyeglasses simila

o Bowies own. The two women slipped int

each others outstretched arms, sharing a quic

but comfortable kiss before turning back to thmen, who were pretending to study the labels o

heir bottles of imported beer.

Oh, Olivia said, gradually registering th

cene. So theyreGay, gay, gay! Bowie crooned, stealing

Miless cup and waving it in the air as if leading

chant.

Miles narrowed his eyes and snagged bac

his glass.But dont tell Miles, she whispered, leanin

n closer to Olivia. He still thinks theyre just real

good friends.

A laugh escaped Olivias lips, surprisin

hem all, and she took another healthy sip.

Ready? Bowie asked, finishing the last o

Olivias seltzer and slapping the empty cup on th

able.

Miles looked to Olivia and raised a


80/555

eyebrow. Ready for what? he asked, lookin

ke he might be afraid of the answer.

Bowie threw her hands up dramatically an

ugged at Miless unbuttoned sleeve. Come on

he whined. You said youd take me to thapring break after-party in Sea Cliff. There

going to be live music and everything. You know

heyll never let me go by myself.

Olivia suddenly felt like she had beeeavesdropping. She began fidgeting with items i

her purse, checking the time on her phone as

here were somewhere else she needed to be.

I dont know, Miles said. Im not sure I ca

handle another White Stripes cover band.Olivia reached to the back of a tall chair fo

he ugly, tasseled shawl her mother had insiste

he throw over her shoulders as they wer

walking out the door.

Lets go. We can even bring this one

Bowie said, grabbing Olivias wrist and shakin

t. It would be the neighborlything to do.Oh, thanks, Olivia said, but I shoul

probably go keep my dad company. Sh


81/555

gestured across the lobby to the bar. Bowi

ollowed her gaze, to where Mac sat hunche

over a bar stool with an empty seat beside him.

Thats your dad? Bowie asked. Hes hot.

It was not the first time Olivia had heard thiabout her father, but it still made her fidget an

blush.

Fine, Miles groaned and grabbed Bowie b

he shoulders. Lets go before you get us aarrested. I guess this is my last chance to watcGraham have a tantrum when his disco ball turn

nto a piata.

Bowie cheered and clapped Miles hard o

he back. Thats more like it, she said, linkinarms with Olivia. Now lets go say some good

byes.


82/555


83/555

6

You are going to die when you see this.After a stomach-churning ride up and dow

oller-coaster hills in Miless moss gree

Volkswagen Rabbit, Bowie pulled Olivia out o

he parked car and onto the sparkling sidewalk

Sea Cliff was far more glamorous than anneighborhood Olivia had yet seen, with box

mansions surrounded by artful topiaries an

mposing statues of lions flanking the columne

ront doors. Miles lingered by a high, wrought-iro

gate that was set back from the road, and waite

or the girls to catch up.

Whose house is this again? Olivia asked

ollowing Bowie along the sidewalk.

Graham Potter, Bowie said, the heel of heboot catching in a crack and rocking her towar

he curb. He has this party every year. Its sort o

a spring tradition. Everybody meets at th

community gardens in the morning and gets th

ground ready for planting. And then they all com


84/555

back to Grahams, because its basically th

most amazing house in the universe. Sh

gestured up a winding stone path illuminated b

dim bulbs embedded in the ground.

Tall hedges lined the property, and a fewmall bubbling fountains were scattered acros

he lawn, complete with backlit cherubi

culptures, naked and spitting into clear, shallow

pools. Grahams dad invented some kind ooftware, I think, Miles told her, digging his hand

nto his pockets and shuffling ahead. Somethin

computer related.

Olivias jaw dropped as the house came int

view. It was literally dug into the side of a cliff, witquare, stucco boxes jutting every which way. Th

oof was covered in arched Spanish tiles, an

oor-to-ceiling windows revealed a sparklin

modern interior, straight from the pages of one o

he design magazines Olivias mother had bough

at the airport and never gotten around to reading

Are you sure he didnt invent the computer? sh

asked, dumbfounded.

I know, right? Bowie laughed, draggin


85/555


86/555

could flush both of them down the nearest toilet.

Bowie grabbed a handful of cups from th

marble countertop and ducked back through th

door onto the redwood porch, where a crowd o

guys in homemade togas stood around a kegBowie held up a finger to say that shed be righ

back, and gestured to Miles, who was talking to

girl in overalls by the breakfast nook.

Olivias eyes flitted anxiously around thkitchen, a tight, twisting feeling clenching at he

nsides. Even at home, shed never felt 10

percent comfortable at parties. She never knew

what she was supposed to be doing or saying, o

how she should be standing to look like she wahaving a good time. But Violet was always ther

o save her a seat, or bring her a drink in a re

plastic cup.

After the summer, shed pretty much stoppe

going out altogether. And when school started u

n the fall, their friends had tried to include he

calling her on Friday nights to hang out in Morga

enningss basement when his parents were ou

of town. But they had quickly given up. Which on


87/555


88/555

playing on an improvised stage.

These guys rock, Bowie said, as Mile

ulked against the mantel, a floppy palm fron

ticking out from behind his frazzled hair. That

Graham singing. Dont they kind of remind you oKings of Leon?

Olivia squinted at the stage and nodded

even though Bowie might as well have bee

peaking in tongues. The music sounded like jusabout every indie band Violet had bee

obsessed with over the past two years, and Olivi

truggled to remember her sister cutting ou

photo spreads from the pages ofNylon an

plastering them onto her notebooks and lockeBasically, the recipe for Violets approval involve

ong, shaggy hair, skinny jeans, altered vocals

and heavy bass.

Grahams band passed with flying colors o

all counts.

Bowie squeezed into the crowd, tossing th

points of her hair from side to side, her shoulder

dipping up and down to the beat. All around her

kids were laughing, dancing, toasting each othe


89/555

with easy smiles and half-empty glasses o

colorful drinks. Bowie motioned for Olivia to joi

her, but Olivia pretended to be lost in the music

taring intently at the band as if she were studyin

he complexities of their compositionaarrangements or instrumental breaks.

Onstage, Graham, whom she quick

ecognized as one of the lounging hipsters from

he courtyard, was sing-screeching into handheld microphone, his damp, orange ha

ticking to his face. He stood on the tips of hi

neakers for one last earsplitting wail, befor

dropping dramatically to his knees and bowin

oward the back of the stage, in a gesture thaaid either (A) Im praying to Mecca; please donnterrupt, or (B) Its time for a drum solo. Imspent.

And thats when Olivia saw him.

All inverted elbows and flying drumsticks wa

he skater boy from school. His face was flushe

n an expression of blissful concentration, hi

green eyes blinking ferociously as loose locks o

andy blond hair flew spastically around his head


90/555


91/555

Skater/Drummer Boy reached his long, wir

arms up overhead. His soft blue undershirt hike

an inch or so above a crackled leather belt, jus

enough to expose a section of his waist, th

harp line of muscle cutting down across one hipOlivia felt the back of her neck getting hot, an

he worried that she was actually sweating.

So? Bowie had reappeared at Olivias sid

and was stripping off her sweater, revealing a tinblack tube top, felted in clingy mohair fuzz

Whatd you think?

Do you know where the bathroom is? Olivi

asked. She felt vaguely dizzy, a deafening rhythm

n her heart and her head, an anxious flutter at thbase of her throat. She needed to run some col

water over her wrists.

Bowie pointed to where a short line wa

naking back around a cast-aside armoire full o

expensive-looking figurines and black-and-whit

photos in frames. Olivia took off through th

crowd. As soon as she cleared a cluster of kid

knocking back shots by the fireplace, she froz

abruptly in place. There he was, waiting at th


92/555

back of the line, propped up against a thick

ramed map of the world.

It was too late to turn around. She took

deep breath and planted herself beside him. H

wasnt nearly as tall up close, and, sneakinglances of his profile, she spotted a neat little row

of tiny round scars, barely hidden underneath

hin layer of stubble at his jaw. Olivias hea

humped, and she clenched her hands behind heback.

Is this the line for the bathroom? she asked

and instantly regretted it.

No, this is just the way we stand, all lined u

n a row for no reason. Welcome to California!He turned abruptly toward her, shaggy ha

alling over his sea green eyes and sticking to th

lope of his nose. Yup. He nodded with a smile

pushing back at the hair that had fallen, as if t

get a better look. His teeth were big and adorab

crooked.

Cool, she said. Cool. She glanced at thoor for a trapdoor to fall through, hoping for a

east a small fight to break out somewhere acros


93/555

he room. Anything to stop the uncontrollabl

ountain of lameness that was pouring out of he

mouth.

I keep seeing you, he said. In the courtyard

ght? At school? Andnow she was a stalker. She hadn

been in school one week, and already she

urned into the overdressed girl who stared to

ong and tried too hard.Olivia swallowed and nodded, racking he

brain for something officially not-psychotic to sa

back.

Im Soren, he went on, extending a hand

Whats your name?Olivia, she answered, taking his hand.

was warm and sweaty and strong. Im new.

Yeah, I caught that, Soren joked, and then

hrough another heart-wringing grin, h

whispered, Welcome to Hippie High.

Olivia squeezed her damp fingers tighte

ogether and harnessed enough courage to stea

a glance back up at him. Which was about whe

he realized that he was looking at her. And not i


94/555

a way that made her feel crazy, or like maybe sh

had arugula wedged between her teeth. Real

ooking at her. Like for one reason or anothehed caught his eye, and he couldnt figure ou

how to look away. Like maybe hed run out ohings to say, not because he wasnt interested

But maybe because he was nervous, too?

The bathroom door swung open and Graham

tepped out, clapping Soren on the back as hpassed.

I should Soren pointed at the bathroom

and Olivia nodded vigorously.

Right, so, she said, gesturing for him to g

ahead. Good luck!He smiled, a sweet, lopsided little grin, an

closed the door between them.

Olivia nestled herself against the wall on th

other side of the bathroom door. It wasnt until th

band was back onstage a few minutes later tha

he realized it had sounded like shed wishe

him good luck with the toilet.

Graham was already gripping the mic an

hushing the noisy crowd as Soren snuck out o


95/555


96/555

rom a crossbeam in the ceiling.

The little veins in Olivias neck pulsed an

uzzy black spots appeared in the corner of he

eyes. Could this really be happening?

The other band members, a beefy kid witong, blond dreadlocks playing the bass, and

balding guy at the keyboards who looked at leas

hirty, were each joined by girls from the crowd

and Soren was still smiling. And waving.At her.Olivia inhaled, fueling the Jell-O-like wobbln her belly, and took a step forward. Just then

ustling footsteps approached from behind her,

cascade of silky, jet-black hair whipping her in th

ace as a blurry figure hustled by.Im coming, Im coming, the girl called ou

as she ran up onto the stage, hopping next t

Soren. He wrapped an arm around her waist an

pulled her tight to his side.

Calla. The glowing earth goddess Miles ha

pointed out at lunch. And, if possible, she looke

even more naturally beautiful than she had before

n dark, faded jeans, a ribbed white tank top, an

chocolate brown flip-flops, her glossy, tanned ski


97/555

glistening in the spotlight, her almond eyes dar

and mysterious.

Fivefourthree

Graham was counting, people were yelling

he world was spinningOlivias face felt like it was about to explode

All around her, people were hugging a

clapping, so she clapped, too. Until she realize

hat the band had started to play and she was stclapping, and now she was the new girl in th

ancy dress, clapping to herself in the corner.

The bathroom was empty when she peeke

behind the door, and so she locked herse

nside, wondering if shed survive a jump from thwindow.

And wondering if she cared.

No throw up.

Olivia was slumped in the back of the ca

hed flagged at the end of Grahams block, he

head bobbing against the cool, foggy glass. Th

bearded driver squinted at her through th

earview mirror, carefully evaluating her puk


98/555


99/555

as shed hated it while she was there, she misse

Willis, her old school and friends, the lam

parties, the drunken jocks, the girls who wer

uperficial and fake, fine, but at least they knew

who she was.Mostly, she missed Violet.

Olivia squeezed back hot tears too late, an

a few escaped, falling heavily onto her dress.

This isnt how it was supposed to be, shhought. Violet would never have let this happenwant my sister. I want my sister. I want my siste

I just wish I had my sister back, sh

whispered out loud, her hands over her eyes

pressing the tears against her wet cheeks.It happened so fast that later on she

wonder if she was hallucinating. But as soon a

hed opened her eyes, a strong, sturdy breez

whipped through the cracked window, carryin

with it what looked, at first, like a lightning bug.

It swirled around the back of the cab, franti

and confused. Olivia quickly figured it was tryin

o get out, and reached across the seat to ope

he window. But instead of immediately flyin


100/555

hrough, the neon insect slowed the flapping of it

wings, settling gently on Olivias knee befor

aking flight and disappearing back into the nigh

ky.

The bug had only been still for a second, buhad been long enough for Olivia to realize

wasnt a lightning bug at all. It was just as tiny, an

ust as bright, but its wings were wide and broa

and swirled with silver and gold.It was a butterfly.


101/555


102/555

7

Olivia woke in the middle of the night with wha

elt like battery acid coating her mouth, grippe

by a sudden, mind-numbing thirst.

Water.She squinted one eye open, gathering up th

trength to lift her heavy head from the pillow, aneached across to her bedside table. Sh

umbled for a glass of stale tap water and gulpe

down, oblivious to the tiny particles of dust tha

had settled on the surface. Hauling herself ont

her elbows, she gripped her head in her hands t

essen the intense pounding, which seemed to b

everberating all the way down to the ligaments i

her ankles. Slowly, she opened her eyes, allowin

hem to drift to the floor, where a shadowy heap odark material lay next to the foot of her bed.

The dress.

Olivia groaned out loud, the events of th

night before rushing back like the incoming tide

Like it wasnt bad enough shed made


103/555

complete jerk of herself, wearing a ball gown to

oga party and stalking Soren by the bathroom

but she was hallucinating now, too? A fluorescen

butterfly?

Am I losing my mind? she whispered ououd.

Basically, but what else is new. A crispmocking voice came from somewhere nearby.

Olivia whipped her head around, lookinback toward the hulking headboard, then ou

hrough the gently blowing curtains.

Hello? she called quietly out into th

darkness, feeling ridiculous.

Nothing.Awesome, she muttered. Now Im hearin

voices.

Oh, would you calm down? the laughinvoice ridiculed. You may be crazy, but yourenot schizophrenic.

Olivias heart jumped, landing somewhere u

around the middle of her throat. She threw th

covers back and hurriedly tiptoed to the doo

pulling it open and craning her neck to see up an


104/555

down the hall. It was empty and silent. Sh

hivered and hugged her elbows, closing herse

back inside.

Nobody.

Her nose twitched and tickled. What was thamell?

A thin stream of cigarette smoke swirle

rom behind her. Olivia looked down and followe

he curling, smoky trail past her bed, past thwindow, all the way to the small, crooked door a

he back of her room. The door was open just

crack and spilling a shaft of cool blue light ont

he floor.

Olivia put her hand to the knob a

Date post:	06-Apr-2018
Category:	Documents
Upload:	ccjw
View:	335 times
Download:	0 times

Wish - A Novel by Alexandra Bullen

Documents