Chapter One

Harper

The past

We receive our acceptance letters on the same day. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room, we make a ceremony of opening the envelopes together. Benny’s eyes are focused like lasers on the seemingly harmless paper object in between his fingers. I toss mine in the air and catch it by a corner. I repeat the trick a few times, watching the stamp in the corner as I go.

“One…two…three,” Benny says, glancing up to find my gaze. We never thought to consider one of us wouldn’t get in. There was never any question, really. We’re those types of people. We go together. We conquer Harvard like freaking elitist bastards and then move on to world domination. Plus, both of our envelopes are fat.

“Go!” I shout, as I carefully slide my forefinger under the side of the flap and tear across. Benny does the same, pushing his glasses up his nose using one finger. Our parents, all four of them, are seated on the long sectional couch, breathing heavy, eyes wide in anticipation. I think it’s just for show. They know there’s no question as well. We’re not secretly driven. Everyone and everything that surrounds us knows it as a fact.

When Benny and I were eight we performed a knock-down-drag-out-awesome-play of The Lion King. I was Simba and he was Zazu because he had a better pretend accent. Our parents sipped the iced tea we made and clapped along the entire time. I made the costumes and Benny wrote our lines. It was a team effort. All of our lives it’s been a team effort.

“I got in!” Benny yells, holding the thick piece of paper up in the air.

I can’t help it. I can’t. I stop unfolding my letter and watch him bask in this moment. His smile is wide and his face is at the pinnacle of happiness.

“Open it, Harpee. Read yours!” he says when he sees my pause. Our parents are congratulating him, my father shaking his hand and both mothers crying like the sappy people they are. They became best friends by proxy of Benny’s and my friendship. We always understood they would have become best friends without us. They are so alike it’s scary.

I follow Benny’s order, smiling when my eyes find the part that says, Congratulations! Standing, I meet my parents’ gaze and as levelly as I can manage I say, “Your daughter is going to be a Harvardian.”

The room breaks out into a roar. Someone knocks over a drink. My father picks me up and spins me around like I’m five instead of eighteen. Whoops of gleeful cheers bounce off the walls and laughter steals any foul thoughts from the atmosphere.

“Dad, you realize this means I’ll be in debt until I’m thirty. Even with my scholarships. You shouldn’t be so happy,” I deadpan. My stomach is bubbling with joy and satisfaction, with validation. All those years of never fitting in and working hard has finally paid off. If I can downplay the emotions coiling in my system, I won’t embarrass myself. I’m not a person who shows my true feelings. Even the good ones.

“Oh, hush your mouth, Harper, we’re so proud of you, honey,” Mom says. She looks at Benny. “We’re so proud of both of you. You’re going to do great things.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us already.” Tears well in the corner of her eyes and it’s time to close my own eyes. Mother tears are dangerous and contagious.

My father releases me, takes the letter from my hands to see it for himself, and my mom absorbs me into her arms. “I love you, Harper Jean.”

I respond to her sentiment, but Benny catches my eye.

He’s hugging his mother, but peeking at me over her shoulder. I stick my tongue out at him, and he crosses his eyes. His glasses slide down his nose. I peel up my top lip to expose my front teeth. He mimics my gesture except he flares his nostrils, too. “Harvard,” I mouth, when our dumb face match has ended.

His mom releases him the same time my mom lets me out of her proud clutches.

“Tequila!” Benny’s dad roars, and we both shake our heads. Our parents are celebrating our accomplishment. It makes little sense to me. The four of them find their way to the bar area, a place we frequent when they aren’t home, and Benny and I are left vibrating with excitement.

“Harpee, this is the best thing ever,” he says.

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he starts bobbing up and down. I notice the muscles in his arms bunch at the movement. Girls look at him more than they ever did before. It made me jealous for a spell because I didn’t understand why boys weren’t noticing me. I’m not flat-chested anymore and I let my practical haircut grow longer. My aunt showed me how to wear tasteful makeup. Benny laughed off my concerns and said it was probably because I had a boy for a best friend. He said it was like a dog peeing on a hydrant. The territory is marked. I argued that dogs pee on the hydrant over and over trying to cover up the other dogs’ scents and accused him of comparing me to a hydrant. He said he was the dog in the analogy so I shouldn’t get my girly emotions in a twist. I agreed with him.

I put my hands on his shoulders. He’s bigger now—taller and broader than he used to be. “Benny,” I say, biting my lip. “This is going to be the greatest adventure of our lives!”

He picks me up under my arms and spins me around, the smile on his face comforting and familiar. He sets me back down and we do a stupid dance all the kids at school are doing. Our parents are lost in their drinks, watching us over the rims of their glasses as we act like geeky, Harvard-bound fools.

“I think this calls for the understated elegance of song,” Benny says, taking my hands in his. They’re warm, and for a second I get lost in his touch. It happens more and more and I’m not sure what it means. He denies any sort of realization of things changing between us, so I try not to bring it up.

I cross my arms, and he crosses his and grabs mine. At the same time, we suck in a huge giant breath. “Harbenny, Harbenny, getcha, bitchen some, we rule the world, who is number one?” We raise and lower our hands in our secret song handshake as the words spill from our lips. We repeat it one more time, louder this time, and at the end we’re laughing so hard we fall back against the couch, one of his hands still lying atop mine.

“Life is finally starting,” he whispers so no one else hears. The happiness in this moment is fleeting, because it reminds me of how shitty of a time we’ve had up until this point. The bullying and the not so veiled insults slung our way mean very little in the big scheme of things. We were lucky enough to realize that from a young age. We clung tight to each other and the promise of more. The promise of this feeling, in this moment, right here. It was all worth it.

I don’t say anything in reply because he already knows my sentiments reflect his. I squeeze his hand instead, comfortable merely breathing together with thoughts of a thrilling future.

Smirking, I turn to look at him. “We’re going to rule the world, Benny. Just you wait and see.”

Benny wrinkles his nose. “I smell popcorn,” he remarks. I point a finger at our parents as they shovel popcorn in their mouths alternately between their adult beverages. They look at us every so often. “What are they going to do when we leave them to their own devices?”

“Finally live?” I offer, shrugging my shoulders.

They’ve been great parents. All four of them. When the neighbors in our middle-class neighborhood were busy having scandalous affairs, they pretended nothing nefarious ever happened. They sheltered us. They understood that as long as Benny and I had each other somehow we’d be okay. When I got my period for the first time, Benny’s mom sent him to have a sleepover at my house. It might seem weird to most people, but I was relieved. It saved me from having to discuss these things with my mom, and by that time he was eager to glean knowledge about the opposite sex even if it meant hearing about blood that comes out of the vagina like the great flood.

We don’t censor our friendship or build barriers where the typical boy and girl friendships would have them. He tells me with little heartache when he splooges all over his bedsheets, and when Jenny Megley wears a short skirt to school, he bombards me with the gory details. In turn, he drives me to the makeup store and tells me what lipstick compliments my complexion.

“They’re gonna be drunk in thirty minutes. What do you want to do tonight to celebrate?”

Drumming my fingers on the leather next to me, I contemplate the various ways in which we could mark this momentous occasion. “We could drive down to the water tower and throw rocks? Get slurpees and Ho-Ho bars and binge until we feel sick and throw up from such great heights?”

“You’re such a geek.”

I fix him with a glare fitting an idiot. “You asked. What do you suggest we do?”

He’s teasing because my response was dripping in sarcasm. It’s a defense mechanism that rises even when there’s no threat. It’s what happens after being the ugly duckling most of my life.

“You could paint my toenails,” I say, grabbing his knee.

“We aren’t eight anymore. I can think of one thing we both need to do before we go to college.” Benny smirks and slides his glasses up his nose again. Sighing, I tell him he needs to go get them tightened before he makes me crazy. He snarls in response.

“Basketball!” he proclaims loudly.

Our parents watch us as we head out through the garage door. Benny swipes the orange ball from the floor and I follow him onto the driveway.

“Now that we’re out of earshot,” he says, trailing off.

“Oh, God, Benny, what now? I don’t want to hear about Jenny Megley’s pubic hair again!” I steal the ball out of his hand and start dribbling. “You saw it once when the skank didn’t wear panties. Surely you don’t still think about it?”

It’s a shame he was so puny most of his life, because Benny is phenomenal at basketball. His physical confidence kept him from trying out for the high school team. I couldn’t push him even though I knew he’d make it because I wouldn’t play a sport either. Those kind of people scare me.

Benny laughs. He’s tall and confident now. Or at least that’s how I see him. “Virginity clause, Harpee,” he says, his voice deadly serious, but his mouth smirking.

When I stop, shocked, my jaw open, he steals the ball and nets a three-pointer. Swallowing, I try to right my attitude and veer into a conversation I knew was coming.

“You’re serious?” I cross one foot over the other, as if to subconsciously guard the V he’s talking about.

He dribbles the ball around me in a circle, his dirty, white Converse sneakers making me dizzy. “You weren’t serious when we made a blood pact at age thirteen? We made a promise.”

My stomach falls to my feet.

Leaning over, I make an attempt to snatch the ball from him and miss. “I didn’t think about it after that, honestly.” Lie. I was just hoping he wouldn’t bring it up, because God knows I wouldn’t. “I signed it so you wouldn’t feel badly about Sophia turning you down.”

Benny spins on me. “You’re telling me you’d rather go to Harvard a virgin than have coitus with me?” He waves his arm from the top of his head down, like he’s presenting a showcase prize in the Price is Right.

Leveling him with my gaze, I don’t let my true emotions show. I think I hide them, anyway.

Benny narrows his eyes. “You can’t lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself. It’s no big deal. It’s just an act. Like dribbling a ball or taking a test. Or getting into the best school in the world!”

“I’m glad you hold my virginity in such high regard,” I remark.

Sweat slides down the sides of his face. He takes his glasses off to dry them off and I catch my breath. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I think about it more now that you look like that,” he says. “I hold your virginity in the highest regard. I’m paying for it with mine. That’s sort of a big deal.”

“Looking like what?” I ask, scrunching up my nose. I’ll ignore the rest if he’s going to compliment me.

Benny sighs, turns around, and shoots another basket. “Never mind. I’ll keep working on Jenny. She’ll give in eventually. It’s only a matter of time now. She’s skilled, too. That’s a better option for a stud like me.”

Blood boils at two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit. Mine is boiling right now. “No. You won’t give that wench your virginity!” I shout. “Looking like what, Benny?” I raise my voice even louder. “Don’t be shy now.”

Benny laughs and points at the front window where our parents are gawking at us, drunk smiles lighting their faces. “Keep it down unless you want them to know about the virginity clause. I had a feeling you’d say that. So, you’re game then?”

Folding my arms, I eye him suspiciously. He works me so easily. “It will be like making love to my brother, but fine. Like you said, it’s just an act. Why aren’t you answering my question?”

He’s a genius at avoiding topics he decides to shun. Unfortunately for him, I know when he’s using avoidance.

He celebrates my acceptance by palming the ball and jumping up to dunk it in the hoop with a loud whoop. His dirty Celtics tee rides up to expose his lean waist and abdominal muscles and the spry patch of hair that cropped up a few years ago. Closing my eyes, I swallow down a ball of nerves and remind myself it’s Benny. “You know you grew into your body over the last year or so. You look…pretty. Hot, even,” he goes on to explain. “That’s all I meant. Don’t go overanalyzing.”

Blushing, I turn away. Ignoring his compliment, I say, “It won’t change anything, right? Just an act?”

Dribbling the ball over to stand in front of me, he fixes me with an excited stare, his eyebrows raised in reassurance. “Always. Just you and me, Harpee. Come on. You should know that nothing can tear us apart.” He tucks a piece of wayward hair behind my ear and gives me a warm smile. “Not even fumbling first time sex and definitely not Harvard.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I nod. “Best friends for life,” I affirm.

“We’ve known each other our entire lives. Every single first in my life has involved you in some way, shape, or form. Why would this be any different?”

While he’s distracted by thoughts of sex, I take the ball from him, holding it at chest level. It smells like dirty, burnt rubber. I like the smell. It reminds me of Benny because this smell clings to his clothes. “I have to go to my aunt’s fancy birthday party the weekend after next. She sent an invite to me specifically. Like I’m an adult or something. You’ll be my plus one?”

Benny rolls his eyes, steals the ball back, and dribbles it by his side. “This is your counter offer. I like your style.”

Groaning, I slap his arm. “You should like it. I learned from you. You’re invoking the virginity clause, so I feel like I should get something I want out of it as well.”

He palms his chest with his free hand. “You’re getting me!” he exclaims, his sarcastic smile touching his eyes.

It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Is it a girl party?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

I shake my head. “It’s an everyone thing. She’s turning thirty-five and wants the world to see how young she still looks.”

Benny shoots a three-pointer, but doesn’t make a move to get the ball. He stalks back toward me, picking up his baggy, dirty jeans as he goes. He places a hand on my shoulder and grins.

“Well?” I ask, widening my eyes in irritation.

“I’ll be your plus one.”