“I’ll give college some thought,” she said vaguely.
“Knock, knock,” Nadav said, pushing open the closet door. Calliope barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Of course Nadav was the type of person who said knock, knock instead of just knocking.
“Are you almost packed? Oh, hi, Calliope,” he added.
“I was just giving my mom some fashion advice,” she said, standing up quickly.
“Good. I’m glad someone is doing that, since I’m definitely not qualified.” Another lame dad joke. Nadav’s gaze drifted to Elise, and he flashed an indulgent smile. “I just wanted to remind you that our plane leaves at six.”
“I can’t wait,” Elise said warmly. She was gazing at Nadav with such affection that the intensity of it almost knocked Calliope backward.
She and her mom had lived so many lives through the years, casting off their used identities each time they moved, like last season’s discarded clothing. But Nadav brought out another side of Elise: the happiest side of her, maybe even the best side. And if this was what her mom wanted, then Calliope would do everything in her power to help her get it.
She didn’t even know Brice that well, so she wasn’t sure why she was so disappointed to lose him. But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t see him again.
She had to give him up, for her mom’s sake.
AVERY
AVERY WAS SHOCKED at the crowd that had showed up to watch the Fuller siblings’ showdown. Though technically, she supposed, the showdown was only half theirs.
She’d never competed in Altitude Club’s annual young members’ tennis tournament before. She’d always found the whole thing showy and false, much more about the after-party than the tennis. It was all white pleated skirts and high, bouncing ponytails and passed cocktails—an excuse for the young members to carry their unused rackets in a false show of athleticism. But a few weeks ago, at Altitude brunch, Max had seen the tournament advertised on the flickering display screens.
“Mixed doubles! Come on, we’re a great team.”
“I don’t really want to,” Avery hedged. She thought longingly of those golden summer afternoons back in Oxford, when she and Max would play against their friends on the clipped emerald courts of the public park. The games were loose and carefree. They never even kept score—the only thing they counted were the number of Pimm’s they had consumed—and when they got tired of playing, they would settle on the grass with a basket of cheese and baguettes, to feast in the glorious liquid sunshine.
“You love tennis,” Max had insisted. “What do we get if we win?”
“Nothing! Just our names on a plaque outside the locker room.”
“You’re telling me that you have the chance to win eternal glory and you’re passing it up? Frankly, I’m shocked,” he professed, which coaxed a smile from her.
“All right, fine,” Avery had proclaimed, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. She knew that Max was just trying to distract her from all the stress of the election and college applications. It was sweet of him, although misguided.
At least she was heading back to Oxford soon. Avery had been invited to interview there, which was a good sign; only the top applicants were asked to interview on campus. And Max would be coming back with her for moral support.
It would be a weekend away, she kept telling herself, just like old times. She needed that. She could use a reminder of what she and Max had been like this summer, before he came to New York with her—before the election, before Atlas came home. Before he kissed her.
She hadn’t realized that Atlas was planning on entering the tennis tournament too. But he did, partnering with his old friend Sania Malik, the same girl he’d taken to the Under the Sea ball last year, when he was trying to hide his secret relationship with Avery. In a strange turn of events, Sania was in Max’s class at Columbia, and they were friends, which made this whole thing even weirder.
Avery kept hoping that Atlas and Sania would fall out of the competition. But to the entire club’s surprise and delight, both of the Fuller pairs kept winning, climbing up their separate brackets until now they were facing off in the finals.
Now, standing against the baseline, Avery lifted her hand to shade her eyes. She’d never seen the stands of Altitude’s Centre Court so packed; but then, people always did love a good family rivalry. Especially when that rivalry was in the family of the newly elected mayor.
She saw a lot of her classmates, though there was no sign of Leda. Every time Avery had tried to meet up with her lately, Leda had proclaimed that she was busy. Avery just hoped that busy meant happy or with Watt. If so, then Avery would gladly stop pestering her.
She clenched her palms tighter around her racket. Max glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her. “You’ve got this,” he said softly. They had won the first set 6–4, but this one was much closer. Atlas and Sania seemed to have finally found their rhythm.
Avery nodded and looked across the court—directly into Atlas’s eyes.
Something in them made her catch her breath. A look, a plea, something so fleeting that Avery couldn’t even begin to make sense of it, just as the ball abruptly collided with the court near her feet. She blinked, startled. She had lost the set.
The announcer called their five-minute changeover period. On the other side of the court, Max was already grabbing his electrolyte drink, chatting easily with Sania. Avery watched in dazed fascination as they leaned in and snapped a selfie, as if this whole thing were casual, good-natured fun.