“That’s not fair,” Zach said. “You can’t—”
“Stop,” Jude hissed, holding up a hand. She looked shell-shocked, a little dazed. “I don’t understand. Talk to us, Zach.”
“Zach,” Mia said, frowning. “You won’t go to school with me?”
“I can’t leave her,” he said, looking miserable.
“And you can leave me? Me?” Mia said, starting to cry.
“No. I want you to come with us. I said that,” Zach answered. “Come on, Mia—”
“What choice do I have?” Mia cried, looking from Zach to Lexi. “I guess this is you being my friend, too, huh?” Then she ran for the stairs.
Zach followed his sister from the room and up the stairs.
Lexi felt Jude’s gaze on her, judging her, blaming her, and Lexi felt a rush of shame. This family had done so much for her, given her so much, and now she was to blame for this. It took all her courage to look up into Jude’s disappointed face. “Don’t be mad at me,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “Please.”
“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” Jude said. Her voice was shaky and her face was pale.
“I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I didn’t tell him to do this … to want this.”
“Think of Mia instead of Zach. Instead of yourself. You know how talented she is, and how shy. How would it be if the three of you lived together—really. How long before you and Zach started to ignore her?”
“That would never happen.”
“Really? It looks as if it just did.” Jude paused; her face seemed to soften at that. “I’m sorry. I hate to tangle you up in all of this. But if they don’t go to USC they’ll regret it, and sooner or later they’ll blame you.”
Lexi hated the truth she heard in those words.
“Talk to them,” Jude said, clutching Miles’s hand so tightly her fingers were white.
Lexi wanted to say no, at least to be uncertain about what to do, but she wasn’t. Some courses of action were obvious. She had done the wrong thing once before, risked her friendship with Mia and her place in this family. Then, as now, love and longing had blinded her. It was a mistake she refused to repeat.
She turned her back on Miles and Jude and made her way across the room—bigger suddenly, an endless sea crossing—and went up the stairs. They were in Mia’s room, standing like a pair of matched statues, staring at each other.
“Hey,” Lexi said.
They turned at the same time, wearing identical expressions.
“I wish I were stronger,” Mia said.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Lexi said, moving into the room. Zach reached out for her but she sidestepped him. “But that’s not what this is about.”
Mia started to cry. “I’ve dreamed of USC for so long.”
“You could go by yourself,” Zach said, and Lexi loved him for saying it, but she heard the crack in his voice, saw the regret already filling his gaze.
“I’d kill to go to USC,” Lexi said quietly. “I’d give anything.” She swallowed, looked from one face to the next, struck by how alike they were, mirror images. “You guys can’t give up everything just because I don’t have it. I won’t let you.”
She could see how hurt Zach was by her words, and how relieved. She drew in a shaky breath. Yes, he loved her. But he loved his sister, too, and he wanted to make his parents proud, and to secure his future. All of that, he could do at USC. Lexi forced a smile. “Enough of this. You two are going to USC. I’ll be rocking SCC. We’ll see each other every vacation.”
“We have a whole month at Christmas,” Mia said. At another time she might have smiled, but now she looked as broken as Lexi felt. Was this adulthood, this pruning of dreams to be practical?
“We’ll miss you,” Mia said. Zach just stood there, looking pissed and relieved and a little desperate. Cornered.
“It won’t change anything,” Lexi said, and they all knew it was a lie.
The decision had been made. There was nothing more to say.
Ten
For the next few days, Jude felt a little unsteady, adrift. A bullet had been dodged, there was no doubt about that. Lexi had somehow convinced Zach to follow through on the plans that had been made. It should have been a more than satisfactory conclusion, and it was, but like all compromises, something had been lost by everyone. There was a fissure in this house now, a resentment that was new. Jude couldn’t remember when Zach had been so angry at her. Zach, her pliable, lovable boy, had become a surly, angry teenager who slouched in his chair and mumbled his sentences. He was pissed at his sister and his mother—and maybe at Lexi, who knew?—and he wanted everyone to know it.
Jude had tried to give him space. In the days since the blowup, she’d walked carefully around him, treated him with exaggerated care, but the price to her was high. She simply couldn’t stand being on the outs with her children. Last night, she’d hardly slept at all for worrying about it. Instead she’d lain in bed, staring up at the ceiling, envisioning one conversation after another. In her imaginings, she and Zach always ended up laughing about their differences … and he rededicated himself to USC and his sister. Sometimes he even finished with, I know how young we are, Madre, don’t worry so much, it’s cool, thanks …
Now, she stood at her bedroom window, staring out at her backyard as evening fell across the water.