“
You
’
re damn right I want the key.
”
It
’
s been a long time since I
’
ve seen my mom this angry.
I dig it out of my front pocket, my hand shaking, and place it in her palm. Quickly, she grabs her keys from her purse and adds that key to the ring.
“
Mom, what
’
s going on?
”
“
That
’
s exactly my question for you two.
”
She picks the knife back up and starts to butcher the cake angrily, the pieces uneven and falling apart as she puts slices on two plates.
“
We were just studying,
”
I lie to her. She narrows her eyes at me.
“
You spent the afternoon at the loft,
‘
just studying?
’”
she asks sarcastically.
“
How stupid do you think I am, Livvy?
”
“
I don
’
t think you
’
re stupid, Mom.
”
“
Let
’
s start from the beginning,
”
she says plainly.
Both Jon and myself are quiet. I don
’
t want to start from the beginning. I don
’
t want to admit to her all the bad decisions I
’
d made today, but based on what she just asked us, I
’
m thinking she doesn
’
t know that I skipped school.
“
She picked me up like we
’
d planned,
”
Jon starts tentatively, waiting for my mother to correct him. I think about just telling her the truth before giving her the chance to call us both liars, but decide to keep my mouth shut. When she doesn
’
t discount his story, he continues.
“
She
’
d told me about the loft, and I suggested that we go study there today, where it would be quieter, and we
’
d have a little more privacy.
”
He looks away from her when he says the last word.
“
Privacy for what?
”
“
It
’
s hard to study at the library with so much going on,
”
I finally speak up.
“
Come on, Livvy. And you both better eat that cake before Jacks comes out here.
”
My dad doesn
’
t know.
Jon and I exchange a quick–albeit relieved–glance as we pick up the forks and each take a bite.
“
It
’
s Valentine
’
s Day,
”
Jon said,
“
and, yes, we wanted a little time to ourselves. Nothing happened–
”
“
Just kissing, Mom, that
’
s it,
”
I add to his story. It doesn
’
t sound so bad when he says it.
“
I swear.
”
“
All afternoon?
”
“
No, I painted, and he drew, and we did study some.
”
“
What did you paint?
”
“
A scene from Central Park. I was enjoying the new vantage point.
”
“
Let me see the painting.
”
“
I didn
’
t bring it home, Mom. The paint was still wet.
”
“
So, what, you were going to go there another day to retrieve it?
”
“
Actually, yes.
”
“
Livvy, I thought I gave you explicit instructions, that you were not to go to the loft alone.
”
“
I didn
’
t!
”
I tell her impulsively.
“
Do
not
tell me you misunderstood my meaning. You were not to go there without me or Granna or another adult.
”
“
I know,
”
I whisper.
“
I
’
m really disappointed, Livvy. It was your dad
’
s suggestion to get the key, because he wasn
’
t as trusting as I was, but now I can see I was wrong to trust you.
”
“
I
’
m sorry, Mom.
”
“
And this is the last time I lie to Jacks for you two. I took vows to be honest, faithful, and loyal to him, and I don
’
t like lying to him. I
’
m not doing it anymore. Do you understand?
”
“
I understand,
”
we say in unison.
“
And I can
’
t even punish you, because then I
’
ll have to tell him what you two did, which will admit to him that I was lying about having the key when I walked out of that building
,
knowing
damn good and well you both were upstairs, doing God knows what–
”
“
Nothing happened!
”
I tell her too loudly. She shushes me, looking toward Trey
’
s bedroom.
She stares at me, considering her plan of action.
“
I
’
ll go pick your painting up tomorrow–
”
“
There
’
s a lot of paint and supplies there, Mom. I was hoping to paint there–
”
“
Not now, you
’
re not. I
’
ll bring the painting back–and Livvy, there better be a painting there, or else... or else.
”
She can
’
t think of a good enough threat, so I stop her.
“
It
’
s there, Mom, don
’
t worry.
”
“
You
’
re not to go there again without me, Granna or Dad with you, do you understand?
”
“
I understand. You have the key now, anyway.
”
We all hear Trey
’
s door creak open and see my dad emerge from the bedroom. We
’
re all quiet.
“
Is it not any good?
”
my dad asks, eyeing the cake that we
’
ve barely touched.
“
No, it
’
s wonderful,
”
I tell him enthusiastically, taking another bite.
“
Best cake I
’
ve ever had,
”
Jon mumbles, likely still stunned by the fact that we
’
re not in more trouble. I know I am, anyway.
“
I guess I wasn
’
t really hungry,
”
Mom says, shrugging her shoulders and smiling at Dad before she kisses him on the cheek as she walks out of the room.
“
Fifteen more minutes, Livvy,
”
he tells me as he follows her. Jon and I eat the rest of our cake in silence. My heart is still pounding in my chest, my stomach uneasy. I can
’
t believe I just lied so much to my mom. More importantly, I can
’
t believe how easy it was.
CHAPTER 1
5
A few weeks later, on a Thursday at the Art Room, Jon shows up
halfway
through the class. It
’
s his birthday, and we had permission to go out for a late dinner after my class. He waves at me, but takes a seat in the back, reading a well-worn paperback book. Granna takes him a soda after a few minutes and talks to him briefly while I help the kids with some questions they have. At the end of the session, he helps us clean up, and Granna lets us leave together before all the parents have come. We have nearly two hours before my parents expect me home.
“
Happy birthday,
”
I tell him, punctuating it with a kiss on his cheek.
“
Thank you,
”
he says with a big smile.
“
Why
’
d you come so early?
”
“
I couldn
’
t wait to talk to you.
”
“
Okay,
”
I start.
“
What did you want to talk about?
”
“
Come with me.
”
He takes a ball cap out of his bag and arranges it carefully on my head. He pulls out some sunglasses next and puts them on me.
“
It
’
s kind of dark for these, isn
’
t it?
”
“
I think you
’
ll thank me later.
”
He takes my hand and we walk in the direction opposite of my house.
“
Where are we going?
”
I ask him tentatively.
“
We
’
re getting a cab to Midtown East. I
’
m taking you to a bar–
”
“
Nooo,
”
I protest.
“
I can
’
t go into a bar.
”
“
This one, you can. It
’
s pretty hidden, and you
’
re in disguise.
”
“
We can
’
t even get served.
”
“
My uncle
’
s the bartender, and he invited us.
”
“
I don
’
t think it
’
s a good idea.
”
“
You will. I
’
m not going to get drunk. You won
’
t have to drink at all.
”
“
I don
’
t really want
you
to.
”
“
Liv,
”
he says, his voice slightly elevated.
“
We
’
re not just celebrating my birthday today.
”
“
Huh? Why not?
”
“
I got my Columbia acceptance letter this afternoon!
”
I
’
ve never seen his smile so large.
“
My uncle wants to buy me a celebratory drink. That
’
s it. I just want to celebrate this with you. So please? We can leave after the drink, I promise–
”
“
Wait, you got in?
”
I ask him happily.
“
Yes!
”
“
Jon, oh my god! Congratulations!
”
“
Thanks!
”
He laughs, picking me up and twirling me around. He gives me a quick peck on the lips before setting me down.
“
Come with me?
”
“
Definitely!
”
He waves down the first cab we see, and instructs the driver where to take us. We kiss a few times in the backseat as we drive across town. When we get out of the car, I pay the driver.
“
It
’
s your birthday. I pay,
”
I tell him abruptly so he won
’
t argue. He simply grins and rolls his eyes, then takes my hand in his. His pace quickens until we get to the bar a few shops east. It
’
s extremely dark inside, the wooden walls stained a deep mahogany color.