There’s an unspoken sense, though. I feel it, and I know she does too. She knows that there’s something that exists between Henry and me, and neither of us know exactly what it is. It’s better off unsaid. I made sure of that on Thanksgiving, and Henry hasn’t crossed the line since. Honestly, we haven’t even talked other than cordial hellos and goodbyes in front of Alice and Elena.

  “He’s really been busy since we got back from break. I’ve only seen him once or twice,” I say, careful to make just enough eye contact to sell this as the truth.

  Henry and I did exchange Christmas gifts when I saw him last, just before school started again. I gave him a snow globe that I’d found at an antique store near Collin’s restaurant because he had said he was fond of snow. He gave me chocolates, expensive ones that weren’t personal in the least. I’m the one who drew the line, though, and made the rule—so expensive candy didn’t push my imagination overboard. I was a convenient acquaintance, as convenient as Frango chocolates picked up at the department store.

  None of my classes overlap with Henry’s, and my second time through theology keeps me away from my window most afternoons. I haven’t seen him rush to practice in nearly six weeks. And other than updates from Alice about life at Elena’s during my weekend calls to her and Collin, my connection to the Aldermans feels like it’s fading.

  I see him now, though. Even hundreds of feet away, he stands out. He’s like one of Ava’s outfits: bright even in a row of boys who, to most others, would seem identical.

  He cut his hair, only a little, but enough that the long curls no longer move in the wind. It must make him faster, more efficient with the oars.

  “Wonderful that you both came to support Henry.”

  Elena’s cold tone blankets both of us. From my periphery, I see Ava’s posture sink, her skin growing a little paler as all of her blood rushes to shore up the sick feeling in her gut. I’ve built an immunity to her, so I turn to engage first.

  “First race of the season. This is the place to be.” I tip the brim of my ballcap up enough to look Elena in the eyes, and I catch the disdain in hers as she takes in my fashion choice for the day.

  “I would have loaned you a hat if you wanted, Lily. All you had to do was ask.”

  It’s strange how Elena can seem kind and conniving within the same breath.

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” I lie. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

  Ava draws in a quick breath. She’s probably been holding it and is in desperate need of air.

  “Ava, dear. How are your parents? I’m so sorry we weren’t able to spend time together for the holidays. Henry…he’s going through that typical adolescent rebellion I suppose.” Elena sings out the last part, not-so-delicately eluding to the limo ride over Thanksgiving.

  Ava’s frustration and panic is radiating off her as she stands next to me, shifting her feet like someone who really needs to pee. She glances down, shadowing her face with her hat, probably hiding her anxious expression.

  “Aren’t we all,” I step in for her, waiting for her to lift her chin just enough for me to catch her eyes. I wink at her, which causes her lips to lift with hope.

  “I suppose you all are,” Elena hums. I’m sandwiched between my new friend and my benefactor, trying to protect them both and preserve that small piece of respect that got me into Satis in the first place.

  “You both should join me closer to the water. There really is nothing better than watching the strong finish after fifteen-hundred meters. You know, most high schools don’t row as far as the college prep schools in Illinois.” Without waiting for us to accept her offer, Elena begins walking with her hand gesturing for us to follow toward the tent that’s housing all of the school’s most important people.

  Reluctantly, we both follow. I’m stronger than Ava, but we are both rather weak.

  We join Elena right along a wooden railing, and she reaches into her small black clutch to pull out a pair of binoculars. She hands them to Ava first, who smiles and flushes with relief to have something else to busy herself with other than this conversation.

  I recognize the move instantly, though. It’s a distraction. I will not get so lucky.

  “Henry says the two of you don’t get to see each other quite as often this semester. That’s too bad.” I glance at her in an attempt to read her face, but her large sunglasses hide her eyes. Not that I would be able to read them anyway. I look back out at the water, at the shrinking boats off in the distance. I wonder if I’ll be able to hear the gun.

  The three of us watch in silence for a few minutes, listening to the commentary playing out from the booth for the VIP crowd. I know very little about the technical nature of this sport. At one point, I wanted to ask Henry more about it, but then things got…difficult.

  Rules.

  I know that his job is the bowman. It’s labeled on the back of his shirt. His voice carries well, which is perhaps why he got the job. He’s the one who gives orders to the rest of the team. I don’t know for sure what they mean.

  “You like him. You’ve always liked him,” she says, and I stiffen. She leans in close, the ends of her hair dusting my shoulder. “I could tell the moment you two met.”

  I don’t know what my reaction is supposed to be, but the one I let out is that of trapped. I’m caught.

  “He’s a good friend,” I say, though that isn’t totally true. There are things I tell him that I don’t tell other people, like about my parents. But there are things I tell Nicki and Anya that I don’t tell Henry—like about my crush on him.

  “Be careful with your heart, Lily. If you are going to put yourself into the game for Henry’s attention, I fear you should prepare yourself for the likelihood that you’ll lose.” Elena’s posture straightens and she takes the binoculars back from Ava. She heard that last bit. I couldn’t help but glance at the both of them. Now everything is awkward and awful.

  “Henry is fickle.” Ava’s observation does more than surprise me. She shirks her shoulders and tips her head slightly. She’s sticking up for me.

  “He is, Ava. Very much so,” Elena says, holding the binoculars to her own eyes while she lifts her sunglasses and peers out across the water. “You can’t be too careful in our world though, you know. One foolish decision could send you toppling down to the bottom of the ladder. Nobody ever makes the climb back up to where they were. Not if you let another person weigh you down.”

  She leaves us with this riddle, excusing herself to join a few other women her age, all dressed in long, flowing pants and light jackets. The entire tent looks like a party on Gatsby’s lawn.

  The boards are mere flecks out in the distance, and Ava and I both pretend we can see them in detail while we stare off in silence, shielding our eyes from the sun’s reflection on the water. The brightness forces me to look down eventually, and I realize I’ve been clutching the bottom of my sweater so hard that my palms are sweating.

  “Thank you…for coming to my rescue,” I say.

  Ava leans toward me a little and laughs.

  “I’m pretty sure I owed you one.”

  I nod and smile at the ground. The gun sounds in the distance, and the voice commentary from two older alumni in the booth behind us swirls in and out of my ears like nonsense. The boats are too far to see, but I hear faint chants down the channel from people who decided to watch from different points.

  “We used to board Elena’s horses. That’s how I met her—my family met her. We’re not like her.” I look up just in time to meet Ava’s eyes as she turns to the side. We lock gazes in agreement.

  “I know you’re not,” I say, guilt rippling down my insides because I actually thought quite the opposite.

  “I mean it. My parents have been into horses for years. My mom was a vet when my parents met. They’re older—in their late fifties. It’s always been weird for me at school functions because my parents are so much older than everyone else’s. Elena’s older, though, so maybe that’s why they clicked. She’s a little eccentric, so please don’t read into her gibberish. My mom taught me that.”

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to offer in response, so I go with the only thing I know.

  “My parents died. Alice—she’s my aunt. Or cousin. Or cousin-aunt. I don’t really know. She and Collin are way too young. It’s opposite of you, but it kinda feels the same…if that makes sense.”

  Ava loops her arm through mine, a strange gesture that I’m surprised I like. I give her a squeeze with my slight muscles, and her smile stretches as she shakes both of our connected limbs and draws my attention back to the water.

  “I still can’t see them very well. Which one is ours?” I ask.

  She points with her other hand, counting over three spaces from the right, then squints and holds her finger steady.

  “That one,” she says, drawing me near enough to follow her sightline.

  The anticipation is contagious. I go minutes thinking I don’t really care how this race finishes before Henry’s form starts to come into view. With every flick of oars that draws lines in the water, I begin to rock. My movement is small at first, but soon Ava is doing it with me—both of us bending at the knees and pushing, trying to help Henry and the other seven boys in the boat gain more power with every thrust.

  His voice gets clearer, though it’s still distant, carried over the water and amid such physical exertion that he no longer sounds fifteen, but more like he’s twenty.

  “Go half, go half, three quarters and pause…” He keeps the entire team in rhythm, and while other teams paddle furiously, our boys lean low and glide between long, fluid strokes. I begin to understand—the paddles make them go, but they also make them stop. Their speed is a delicate balance; it requires the right amount of work and patience.

  “And go!” Henry’s voice shouts in a raspy gargle, echoing as the edge of their boat passes the beginning of our deck.

  My eyes are like zoom lenses, admiring the ripple on his bicep and forearm, the deep creases along his neck as he strains and stares at the boy with dark hair and ice eyes in front of him. Nobody breaks today—everyone’s attention is forward, on this one singular task.

  To win.

  Better than everyone else.

  And they do. They come in a full length ahead of the next team, and their celebration and exhaustion collide as they fall forward and back letting the boat glide to slow down naturally.

  Everyone around us cheers, clapping and shouting the Satis House song. “Fight on, mighty commodores, aboard this battleship—hear, hear! We cry for victory, our right we take over all!”

  I don’t know the words, and Ava pretends to mouth them next to me, laughing with a shrug as she lets go of my arm.

  “That was exciting,” she whispers into my ear.

  “It was,” I say, forcing a smile to match hers.

  Something about this moment also feels like a revelation to me. In a crowd of attendees, only two of us are quiet—Elena and I. And she has already left the tent and begun her walk up the hill. She doesn’t stay to congratulate her son. She’s actually never called him that. Nor has he called her Mom. He’s Henry. She’s Elena.

  Victory above all else.

  Her riddle is becoming a little clearer now, as is her warning for me.

  “Be careful with your heart, Lily.”

  Henry has been bred to win…with room for very little else.

  CHAPTER 9

  SUMMER AFTER FRESHMAN YEAR

  The train ride felt foreign today. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a year older than I was last summer, or if it’s because the entire year that played out between Henry and me was so strange. Whatever the cause, everything feels as if it’s happening for the very first time.

  I may be a year older, but somehow Alice still sees me as this naïve young girl—a burden. She woke me earlier than was necessary, and when I tried to sneak in a few extra minutes of sleep before she came knocking again, she stole the quilt from my bed and tossed it into the hallway. Sleeping without a cover feels naked. So I got up, and I got dressed and then I sat at the kitchen table with a piece of toast and pretended that she and Collin weren’t fighting over money.

  I wish Collin was the one who had the job at the Alderman house. Or, I wish I could play a piano at his restaurant so I wouldn’t have to come here with Alice to practice. I’m not even sure I really want to this summer, not that I have a choice. That offer Elena made last year for me to play her piano was a contract in Alice’s eyes—a deal sealed that if I messed with would result in doom, AKA Alice would lose her job. I do love playing, though. Even in hell.

  The house is eerily dark this morning. We weave through the thin alleyway between the vine-covered iron fence and the north side of the house to a small back door that Alice started using over the holidays. It’s how the housekeeper arrives, and how caterers come in and out of the Alderman kitchen. It’s for the help.

  Alice’s giant keyring jingles as she shakes it free of her purse, unlocking the side door then quickly ushering me inside as if she’s sneaking me in or something. Contraband. The pantry, kitchen, and hallways are lifeless, and the temperature is cold—a sharp contrast to the early summer warmth cooking outside.

  “It feels like a freezer in here,” I say, feeling along the wall for a light switch. I push in when I feel one raised, but nothing happens. “Weird…fuse must be out.”

  “Damnit. I forgot my sweater. I brought one yesterday and it saved my ass.” Alice begins to rifle through the hallway closet, pulling out a sweater that looks to be about two sizes too big. I arch a brow and catch her glance.

  “What? This thing has been in that closet for months. I think the last caterer Elena fired left it here. I’ll put it back.” She rolls the sleeves several times to force a better fit.

  I shiver and decide I can’t blame her. I swear if I blow slowly enough right now, I might see my breath.

  I leave Alice in the kitchen and venture to the only room I really care about in this house. Windows are drawn close, and every room I pass looks as if it’s been closed up for the season, like one of those estates in Austen novels filled with noble families who only open them up for parties.

  The music-room door is cracked open, so I curl my fingers around the edge and push it slowly. The sound on the keys is faint, almost as if a cat is walking from one end to the other. Henry’s hair peaks out from the top, his head resting on his bent arm while his face looks down at the keys. A soft echo from one of the middle keys barely reverberates. I wonder if he’s testing himself to see if he can play without any sound at all. I haven’t heard him play in at least a year. Last summer, he stopped when I started to play more often. He’d always listen though.

  The two of us finished the semester barely speaking. I only went to one more of his races, and not because I wasn’t curious. I was deeply curious. The draw to go was strong. I denied myself because I want to be about more than Henry Alderman. And beyond him, I want to be about more than trying to either avoid or please Elena. I had to cut myself off because that’s how I operate—all or nothing. Cold turkey. Deny to become strong.

  Resistance.

  This is how my mother gave up sugar. I just assumed it would apply to teenaged crushes, too.

  I dove into the end of my freshman year, somehow repairing my failure of theology the first time around and coming out with a B the second time. It was my only B, which means my GPA is intact and my scholarship money will continue to cover all expenses for at least one more year.

  More than focusing on my studies, though, I focused on my music for those last three months of school. I spent the extra hours—once wasted on spying out my window in search of a boy—in the practice rooms of the performance building. I’m getting better. I can actually hear it in my own hands as they work the keys.

  Despite forcing myself to separate my life from Henry and Elena, though, I couldn’t help but be excited to visit the Alderman piano again. I wanted to see what I could make it do.

  I wanted to show off…for him.

  “Are you waiting for me?” My voice breaks a little, the combination of my attempt to whisper and the early morning hour betraying me. I don’t really know how to talk to him anymore.

  Henry lifts his head enough for his gaze to meet mine. His mouth remains relaxed, his face showing absolutely zero surprise. He shrugs and looks back down at the keys, repeating the same soft sound as before.

  I expect him to move over as I get closer to the piano, but he stays buried in the dark. Rather than take a seat in the small space left beside him, I move to the window and pull one of the heavy green drapes to the side, looping it through the metal hook anchored to the wall. The velvet material feels dusty, so I’m careful when I sweep the other side to the left. My allergies are sensitive to dust.

  “This place looks like a museum. What’s going on?” I pat my hands together to shake away the dust, then lean on the window sill to face Henry.

  “Elena doesn’t want me sitting around here all day, hence the uncomfortable and constant blast of air conditioning. That’s the only breaker that’s on, actually—the air. And she fired the housekeeper, so this place is fucking musty as hell.” He presses the same key a little harder this time, letting his fingers trail up a few notes before his hand feathers out to play a full chord.

  “But isn’t this uncomfortable for her to live in?” I fold my arms over my chest, rubbing the bumps forming on my skin from the cold. Henry shrugs, finally looking up and moving his arms down to his sides. He grips at the bench and rocks back and forth a few times.

  “That’s why it’s cold instead of hot. Makes it easier to normalize when she’s home. Keeps Alice on task too. Besides, Elena’s hardly here. She’s spending all of her time at Havisham. They’ve acquired some big brand, I guess. I’m supposed to go there and learn.” Henry leans forward and folds his hands together on top of the piano and leans toward me.