Better Than Perfect Read online

  He looked at me like he wanted to ask me something, then dropped the arm holding the tambourine to his side. “See you after the show,” he said.

  The show was completely insane.

  At first, none of the people on the lawn were even remotely listening to the band. Sinead said, “We’re the Clovers” into the microphone, and I was literally the only person who noticed. As Sinead counted them in for the first song, I had enough time to try to think about how I’d have to find something nice to say when they came offstage knowing they’d bombed, and then Sinead finished the count and Declan started playing the guitar.

  The notes were crisp, almost twangy. Danny joined them on the drums and Sean started playing the bass, and by the time Sinead started singing, people were already filing toward the stage. “I found a picture of you,” she began, and her voice was beautiful but there was a slight growl to it, almost like she was mad about what she was singing. “What hijacked my world that night . . .”

  I’d heard “Back on the Chain Gang” before, but it wasn’t a song I stopped to listen to if I happened to be playing the radio in my car and it came on. Now, for the first time, I could feel how good it was, how the notes pushed into your blood and bones. By the time the song ended, there must have been a hundred people standing on the lawn in front of the stage, and the audience kept getting bigger. Sinead was right—it was an older crowd. But I spotted some younger people, maybe junior high kids, and they were dancing along with their parents.

  They went right into a song I didn’t know. “Been running so long I’ve nearly lost all track of time,” Sinead belted out, and by now there was no one on the lawn who wasn’t listening to the band except for an elderly couple standing about as far away as they could get without actually leaving the grounds of the club.

  I edged around to the back of the stage where no one could see me. I’d been right about the music shaking something loose inside me, and as they played I let myself sob, grateful that the band was loud enough that no one could hear me cry.

  6

  Afterward I felt better, as if the music and the crying had purged me of something heavy and dark. By the time the show was over, I didn’t feel like crying anymore; I was just tired, and when I’d helped them bring the equipment back to the van and we were all standing clumped together in the parking lot and Sinead asked me for my number, I had to think to remember what it was.

  “That way we can hang out,” Sinead explained, gesturing with her phone. “Declan and Danny and I don’t know anybody here besides Sean. And he’s so old.”

  “Hey, watch it,” said Sean. He’d been drinking steadily, and now he sat in the open door of the van, an empty can next to him, a full one in his hand.

  The phone she was holding buzzed, and Sinead looked at the screen. “Oh, damn. That’s Mum,” she said. “She’s here to get Danny.”

  “You’re coming swimming with us, right?” asked Declan.

  Sinead made a face. “I don’t know. I’m kind of tired. And I’ve got to get up early tomorrow. I might just call it a night.”

  “Pussy!” said Sean.

  “Wanker,” snapped Sinead.

  “Okay,” said Declan. “Thanks to both of you for your edifying verbal interplay.”

  “I’m going,” said Sinead, reading something on her screen. “Mum says she’s been waiting.” She gave me a hug. “You’ll give these guys your number, right? So we can hang out. And you should seriously think about joining the band. You have an awesome voice.”

  “Sure,” I said, knowing it would never happen. I let Sinead hug me and then I returned Danny’s fist bump as they hustled off to meet their mother.

  My phone buzzed. It was Sofia. sorry i havnt txtd in so long. crazy here maybe not out until 12:30 u want keys 2 my house?

  I was so tired. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. But the idea of going back to Sofia’s and getting into the bed I’d slept in last night made my heart pound with terror. I couldn’t go back there by myself. I just couldn’t.

  “You want to come swimming with us?” asked Declan.

  “Um . . .” I looked at my phone. It was just after eleven. “Where?”

  “Right here,” said Declan, gesturing toward the water with his chin. “In the sound.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I remembered the egg’s sunburned head, how he was packed into his too-tight chinos. I pictured him having my car towed, though when I looked around, there were still a lot of cars parked in the lot.

  Sean made clucking noises, then added, “Chick-chick-chicken,” like maybe I hadn’t gotten the hint.

  “Don’t be such a wanker, okay, Sean?” I asked, the word coming to me out of the ether.

  “Nicely done,” said Sean. He gave a loud burp. “You’re an honorary Clover now.”

  Sean, Declan, and I crossed the wide lawn behind the stage down to a narrow flight of wooden steps. In the distance, I could hear the sound of people talking and the tinny clink of silverware on plates, but we didn’t see anyone as we made our journey. At the bottom of the steps was a narrow beach, and I took off my shoes and socks and dug my toes into the cool sand. For some reason, Jason had never taken me here. When we came to the club, we always ended up at the pool.

  Sean instantly stripped to a pair of boxer shorts and dove into the water, yelping as he came up for air. “That’s fucking cold!” he cried.

  “Shhhh,” I hissed. “We’re going to get caught.”

  “Shhhh,” he mimicked, “we’re going to get caught.” Then he dove back down and emerged, blowing a fountain of water out of his mouth. Finally he swam back to the shore and lay down. “Who wants to get me a beer?” he inquired.

  “Dude, you’re wasted enough as it is,” said Declan, taking off his shoe and throwing it at Sean.

  “Ya bastard,” said Sean. He grabbed the shoe and shoved it under his head. “Thanks for the pillow. Oh, I do love the great outdoors.” A second later he was snoring.

  Declan took off his other shoe and his socks, then rolled up his pants and walked to the edge of the sound. He picked up a rock and skipped it across the surface of the water. The moon was enormous, and it made the beach almost as bright as day.

  “Thanks for helping us out,” he said. “With the sound check, I mean. And carrying all that stuff. You really do have a beautiful voice.”

  I sat on the sand and watched the ripples Declan’s rock had made slowly disappear. “Thanks,” I said.

  He threw another rock. “Have you ever sung before? I mean in a band or anything?”

  “No.” I couldn’t see how I was going to make small talk for the next hour and a half while I waited for Sofia to get off work. The thought of continuing to chat gave me a tight feeling in my chest, like maybe now was the moment I’d just start screaming. “Let’s swim,” I said, getting to my feet. “I feel like swimming.” Without waiting for Declan to say anything, still in my shorts and tank top, I walked to the edge of the water and did a shallow dive into the sound.

  The water was cold, but I warmed up as I swam, the familiar rhythm of the strokes soothing me. It had been too long since I’d swum, but after commuting home from the city and then doing practice SAT questions or meeting with Glen, my tutor, the last thing I’d felt like doing at the end of every day was putting on my suit and hitting the pool in our backyard. Now, reaching for the dock, I felt the result of my inactivity as I lifted my heavy arm to touch it before turning and heading back toward the beach.

  Halfway there I passed Declan, who was swimming out the other way. By the time I got to the shore, he had already climbed onto the dock, and I watched him do a smooth dive into the water. I wondered if he was on his swim team. Thinking about it made me realize that I knew nothing about him: not where he went to school, not where he lived. Not even his last name. It occurred to me how stupid it had been to come down to the beach with two complete strangers, one of whom clearly had a drinking problem. What had made me think this was such a happy family? For all I knew, Decl
an and Sean were serial killers. This was exactly the kind of story you read about on the front page of the Post. “Girl’s Body Washes up on Long Island Shore.”

  If I died, everyone would say how full of promise I’d been.

  When he got to the beach, I saw that Declan had taken off his white shirt and his tie, which confirmed my imaginary text to Sofia. He was hawt. His shoulders were broad, and they tapered to a narrow waist. Water streamed off his pants, which shone black in the moonlight.

  “Hey,” he said, dropping down beside me on the sand and not sounding much like a murderer. “When I first met you, you seemed kind of upset.” I was focused on squeezing water out of the bottom of my tank top, but I could tell he was looking at me. “Are you okay now?”

  I rubbed my wet hands on my equally wet thighs. “Why do people always ask if you’re okay? What kind of a question is that?”

  “Um, I take it you feel it’s a dumb one?” he offered.

  I shrugged.

  “Look, if you want me out of your business, just say so. I only wanted to know if you were still upset about . . . whatever it was?” He reached his hand out and lightly tapped me on the knee, his tap a physical manifestation of his question.

  I turned to look at him, trying to imagine his response if I told him why I’d been so distracted I’d almost hit his van earlier.

  As I rotated my body to make eye contact with Declan, I realized just how close we were sitting. His face couldn’t have been more than six inches from mine, and our knees were almost touching. We looked at each other.

  “Jules?” he said.

  Don’t do it, I said to myself. Do not do it.

  But instead of answering his question, I leaned across the few inches that separated us and kissed him.

  “Jules . . . wait . . . ,” he said, trying to talk and kiss me at the same time. But I ignored the talking part, and almost immediately he stopped saying anything and just kissed me back.

  At first, as our lips touched lightly, I felt detached from what we were doing. Analytical. I had never kissed anyone but Jason, and Declan kissed differently. His lips were softer, and his tongue traced the outline of my mouth very gently. This is interesting, I thought. This is not what I’m used to. It was funny how I could be kissing Declan and analyzing kissing Declan and it felt almost like a science experiment I was conducting.

  And then, suddenly, it didn’t. Declan slipped his arm around my back and I pulled myself onto his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. I put my hands on his chest.

  “Jules,” Declan whispered, kissing up the side of my neck. When he got to my ear, he repeated the question. “Who are you?”

  But there was nothing about me I wanted Declan to know.

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “Don’t make a scene.”

  “What?” he asked, his mouth gentle against my ear.

  I shivered and pulled him up so that our lips were level with each other, and I kissed him even more deeply. As we kissed, I could feel his questions—along with the rest of the universe—floating away, like the clouds I’d been watching overhead earlier.

  7

  I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing like an angry beach insect.

  Declan’s arm was still under me, and I was curled into him, my legs intertwined with his. As I slipped out of his embrace, he stirred, but he didn’t wake up. It was dark and cold, and the moon had dropped behind the trees. A few feet away, Sean was still snoring. I dug my phone out of my bag. Sofia was calling, and it was 1:08 a.m.

  “Hello? Sofia?” I whispered, sidestepping away from Declan. My foot made contact with my tank top, which was a sodden mass of salt water and sand. I picked it up and shook it, scattering sand everywhere.

  “Where are you? I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes. I’m at your car.”

  “I’m . . . I’m at the beach.” I tucked the phone between my chin and shoulder and rubbed frantically at the fabric of my shirt, as if the sticky wet sand were a bright, scarlet A.

  “The beach? What beach?”

  “Um, here. I’m here. At the club.”

  “Juliet, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, giving up on cleaning my top. I dropped it over my head and winced as the cold, wet, sandy fabric slid over my bare skin. “Where are you?”

  “I said, I’m at your car.”

  “Right,” I said quickly. “Sorry. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  “Okay,” said Sofia. “I’ll be here.”

  I hung up and turned to where Declan was lying.

  He was fast asleep. I put my hand on my hair, which was gritty with sand. Images of what had happened with us came at me fast and furious . . . my taking off my tank top . . . his saying, We have time. Let’s not rush this. . . . I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the movie to stop.

  What had I done?

  “Declan?” I whispered. When he didn’t move, I said it again. “Declan?” This time he stirred slightly, and I held my breath, not sure if I was more scared that he’d wake up or more scared that he wouldn’t. He shifted slightly in the sand and threw his arm out as if using it to fill the space I’d just vacated.

  What had I done? I pressed my hand to my forehead. My mother was in the hospital tied to her bed. My boyfriend of four years was innocently sleeping in France. My best friend was working her ass off, barely able to focus on her job she was so freaked out about how I was.

  Meanwhile, I was merrily getting with a complete stranger on the beach.

  Declan stirred again, and I froze. If he woke up, what was I going to say to him?

  You know, this was amazing, but I’m not really into relationships. Except with my boyfriend.

  Did I mention that my mother might have tried to kill herself earlier today?

  Do you mind pretending this never happened?

  Declan stopped moving, and I held my breath, frozen as an animal sensing danger. Was he waking up? He breathed deeply, then settled his head on his hand.

  There was no way I could face him after what had just happened. I could barely face myself after what had just happened, but I was stuck with me.

  Please don’t wake up, Declan. Please do not wake up.

  He kept sleeping. I forced myself to stay where I was for a count of ten, then ran silently across the sand, barely slowing down to grab my shoes as I raced to the stairs that would carry me up to the lawn. I was sorry, and I knew Declan would think I was a head case, but that was better than having some awkward conversation with him.

  Maybe he’ll be relieved, I thought to myself. Maybe he’ll be just as glad that you’re gone.

  But his saying We have time came back to me, and I squeezed my head between my hands, willing my brain to delete it.

  Sofia was leaning against the side of my car, but she stood up as soon as she saw me.

  “J, are you all right? What happened?” Puzzled, she touched the ends of my hair. “You’re all sandy. And . . . were you swimming or something?”

  “No! I mean, yes. I went swimming. I had to . . . I had to clear my head.” I forced a smile. “I just wanted to be in the water for a little while.”

  “Juliet, that’s dangerous. You can’t go swimming when no one’s around.” She shook her head. “Seriously.” Sofia and I were on the swim team together, so we’d both been listening to Coach Kalman’s lectures about water safety for years.

  “I know,” I said, nodding. “You’re right.” Declan’s van was still parked next to my car, and I was terrified that any minute he was going to come running across the lawn holding my underwear and screaming my name.

  That’s ridiculous, Juliet. You’re wearing your underwear.

  It was true.

  Barely.

  Sofia was still looking at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “Are you okay, J?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. It felt like the first true thing I’d said in the past ten minutes, even though I knew Sofia would think I meant something other than what I actually meant.r />
  “Let’s go home, okay? Follow me.”

  I got in my car and watched Sofia walk across the lot to hers. As I drove out behind her, I thought about confessing what I’d done. If anyone would understand, it would be Sofia. She was my oldest friend, one of the only people besides my family who’d known me really well before Jason and I started going out.

  Sofia, I have to tell you something.

  We turned out of the driveway, Sofia’s taillights guiding me along Milltown Lane.

  If you make out with a guy on the beach and nobody knows, did it really happen?

  As much of a relief as it would be to confess, if I didn’t tell her—if I didn’t tell anyone—then it could be like I’d never made out with Declan. I did a quick mental check. He didn’t know my last name. He didn’t have my phone number. He didn’t know what school I went to or where I lived. My sandy shoes were safely on my feet.

  Even the prince in Cinderella had more to go on than Declan.

  Sofia held the door of her building open for me, and I followed her into the lobby. When we were younger, her mom would let us come downstairs and sit on the sofas in front of the fireplace, and we’d pretend we were grown-ups living in our own apartment.

  Inside the elevator, she pressed the button for her floor. “So what did you do that whole time?”

  I leaned against the cool mirror on the back wall of the elevator and closed my eyes. The whole night was taking on a dreamlike quality. “Nothing, really. There was a band, and I listened to them.”

  “I heard they were smoking hot,” said Sofia. “Everyone was talking about it.”

  “Yeah,” I said noncommittally. “I guess they were okay.”

  For the second night in a row, I borrowed a T-shirt and boxers from her and used my finger to brush my teeth. Sofia wanted to talk about my mom, but as soon as we got in bed I told her I was so tired I had to go right to sleep. I thought I was lying when I said it, but apparently I wasn’t, because as soon as my head hit the pillow, I conked out, almost as if my mind couldn’t take being awake anymore and needed to hit the off button.