“What’s the name of the person who gets to shout out to the rowers? You do that sometimes…what are they called?”

  “You want to be my cock?” His eyes lower as he slows his rowing just a little and pauses, oars up and arms rested at his knees.

  My eyes flair and my brow shoots up to the fur of my hood.

  “I’m sorry…your…your what?” Now I’m starting to sweat, and I’m also trying not to glance down at his zipper. Jesus!

  Henry roars with laughter, breaking through the silent paradise we’re rowing through.

  “It’s called a coxswain, but sometimes it comes out like that. I just wanted to embarrass you.”

  “Yeah, well—good job. Mission accomplished. Oh my God.” I lift my mitten-covered hands up to my face and cover every inch.

  Henry’s laughter continues through several more strokes, until his rhythm settles in. I pull my hands away from my face one at a time, and I do glance to his waist—his zipper—a few times when he isn’t looking. There are parts of him I’ve wanted to explore, but I always cut our make-out sessions short. He lets me, but I can tell he wouldn’t stop if I didn’t.

  We’re starting to approach a thick bridge made of piled stone with a pair of tunnels running underneath. It’s dark inside, and we’ve gone plenty far. Henry never seems to get tired, but he’s slowing. I can tell he’s feeling the elements.

  “We can head back,” I say, sensing our speed slow as his arms relax.

  “Okay. We’ll switch ends,” he says, locking his oars in place and moving toward me slowly. I begin to shift but he puts his hand on my knee, sitting on one of his a few inches in front of me. “Wait there. Before we head back…I…I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  It feels like my actual heart has lodged in my throat. I try to swallow it down not once, but twice, and Henry can see my panic.

  “It’s nothing bad,” he says, taking my hand in one of his and rubbing his other thumb along my jean-covered knee.

  “Okay,” I say, still on edge.

  His head falls forward, taking his hair with it, and he lets go of his hold on my knee to pinch at his brow and mumble to himself. I can’t make out the words, but it’s basically “how can I say this.”

  “Lily, I’m going to Germany for my junior year.”

  That’s how you say it. You say it just like that—a simple sentence, prefaced with my name to make sure I’m paying attention, and then you drive the staple right through the center of my chest.

  “You’re…wow.” My hand moves to the back of my neck and I instantly try to imagine my junior year at Satis without him.

  “I know, it’s…it’s not ideal, but it’s also a huge opportunity. I’ll get to study process engineering.”

  “Process engineering,” I repeat. This is a career goal I’ve never heard Henry mention. Of course, he’s also never mentioned any goals that aren’t of his own making.

  “Did Elena set this up?”

  His weight shifts away from me and his expression morphs into something rather offended.

  “She got me the interview. That’s where I went the weekend of your birthday. It’s a really special honor, Lily. I wanted this.” He’s saying the words, but it’s also not the same voice I’ve been listening to night after night for the last three months. He’s different now—he’s Elena’s Henry.

  I pull in my bottom lip, mostly to keep myself from sounding hurt or suspicious. I’m ruining this fairytale moment. Henry’s ruined it already.

  “I’m excited for you,” I say, not a single hint of excitement in my tone.

  “Sounds like it,” he says, scooting forward and looking down as he takes my hand. “Let’s just head back.”

  He guides me to the opposite side of the boat and begins rowing before I get situated in my seat. The motion makes me lose my balance a little, but my foot gets caught in the long strap of my safety jacket, which jerks my body to the left just as my balance is starting to go. I’m in the water before I can scream.

  “He…Hen…” My throat has closed, and my stomach is seizing from the ice-cold rush pushing me away from the boat. My feet are kicking in search of a bottom, and every now and then I feel something hard against my leg—boulders, maybe.

  “Hen!” I can’t get his whole name out, so I just begin making sounds.

  “Lily, I’ve got you!”

  My hood has grown heavy and cold with water, and it covers half of my face as I flail my arms, trying to push against the current. It isn’t a rapid, but it’s steady enough to make it impossible for me to swim, especially wrapped in layers and layers of freezing clothes.

  “Grab it!” I can feel the oar against my elbow, but I can’t seem to make my limbs work. My breath is growing thinner and thinner, and my adrenaline is so high I feel slightly blinded by it.

  I somehow manage to grab onto the paddle under my arm, hooking my elbow around it and finally hugging it tightly as Henry pulls me toward him. I nearly pull him in with me, but he manages to work me back into the boat, and begins feverishly removing wet layers from my body. He pushes my coat and sweater from my body, up over my head, and then covers me in his sweater in an instant. I’m convulsing, long past shivering, and we’re maybe a mile away from his car.

  He begins to row as quickly as he can while I lay in a crumbled, shivering ball between his feet. I hear small phrases escape his lips, all amid frightened breaths and grunts.

  “Hang on, Lily. I’m so sorry, Lily. It’s going to be okay. It’s okay. We’re almost there.”

  I think of warm things, like Henry’s arms and my bed at Satis House, and I slow my breathing as best I can through chattering lips. I force the cold air in, and let it out slowly, the steam escaping my nose like a dragon. My fingers look blue. My lips feel blue.

  Thoughts rush out of order, skipping from how much pain I’m in to the awful fact that I’m going to have to miss Henry for an entire year. We’ve barely docked at the bank when he’s lifting me under my arms. The boat’s rocking sparks a nervous yelp from my gut, but Henry wraps both of his arms around my soaking body and holds me tight until, somehow, he and I are both on solid land.

  He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to his car, setting me down long enough to get the back door open, and he puts me inside then shuts the door, rushing to the driver’s side so he can turn the engine on and get the heat cooking. He leaves the front seats and opens the back door again, sliding in where my head is, lifting it to his lap and then shutting his door. My body won’t stop wiggling, every muscle spasming with the constant signals of danger and cold.

  “I got you, Lily. I’m so sorry,” he says, his hands rubbing my arms, chest, cheeks, and legs. He works to warm me inch by inch, and it takes nearly an hour for the uncontrollable shaking to stop.

  My cheeks finally begin to feel warm from the heat blasting from the vents, so I reach forward and close the one closest to my face.

  “That’s a good sign,” he says, his voice cracking with regret.

  I stare at the back of the driver’s seat and replay my fall again. I’ve done this for an hour straight. And it’s always the cold that hurts the least. It’s the words I remember—it’s Henry telling me he’s leaving. And then it’s the blame I instantly assign.

  “Worst driving lesson ever,” I say.

  Henry’s body moves with his laugh. It’s hesitant, but also grateful. I look at him sideways, from my spot on his thigh and in his arms, and I lift the right side of my mouth.

  Truce.

  Henry is going to Germany. I’m going to become a concert pianist. And Elena will get her way—for now.

  CHAPTER 17

  Some of the guys on the crew team are hard to look at in their uniforms. It’s a tight singlet, all black with maroon and navy stripes down the sides. It’s an unforgiving material that leaves very little to the imagination, hugging every muscle and curve—and every lack thereof.

  Henry is hard not to look at. Other than the two seniors on the team, he’s the only one who was somehow born to fill out what is otherwise a ridiculous-looking piece of sporting wear. He may as well be the guy the company uses to model these things.

  “Those girls are staring at you.”

  He glances out to the grass hill where a few groups of freshmen girls have spread out blankets to watch today’s race.

  “That was you last year, you know.”

  “Ha! Hardly,” I laugh.

  “Yeah, you were more brooding and uninterested in me.” He loops his fingers with mine and shakes our hands between our bodies.

  “I was never uninterested,” I confess.

  His mouth quirks. Guilty.

  “Yeah?”

  I don’t have to respond. I just lean forward and press my lips to his. The wind is brutal, so I’m borrowing his school jacket. It was a uniform day since it’s the opening day of the spring season. Students are encouraged to dress traditionally for the event, and since my one pair of khaki pants are wrinkled and dirty, and I suck at laundry and ironing, I had no choice but to wear the skirt.

  Henry likes it. He likes it because he’s a boy, and frankly, even the most prudish girl on this campus gets a little harlot-stamp in these things. Some of the girls roll the tops up to make theirs shorter. I feel like an inch above my knee is just fine. I’m wearing thick winter tights underneath and my snow shoes. Henry bought them for me.

  Ah, spring in Chicago.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” I reach into his coat and pull out the folded-up Cubs hat and place it on my wild, wind-blown hair.

  “The lucky hat,” he says with a grin, tugging on the bill a little.

  “I wore this for the one race I went to last year, and you won,” I say, proudly.

  “We won every race,” Henry offers right back.

  My smile relaxes.

  “Oh. Well, good thing I wore this for that one then. Covers you for a whole season.”

  He scrunches his face and chuckles at me, then reaches up to tap my nose with his finger.

  “You’re adorable. I gotta go.”

  He walks away backward, his eyes on me almost like he’s proud to call me his. Maybe he is. And maybe one day I won’t doubt everything so much, and I’ll start feeling like those rich girls who hike up their skirts.

  I walk up toward the cabana, to Anya and Ava. Nicki opted to sit the races out. “Skinny boats,” she said, “are fucking stupid.”

  Anya’s been wearing her earbuds everywhere she goes for the last week straight. She’s trying out for the spring musical, South Pacific. Nobody’s voice compares to her, but she’s up against a few seniors who, well…hike up their skirts and have parents who write epically large checks. She’s going to need to blow them away with her audition.

  I tap on her shoulder, and she jumps a little then pulls one bud from her ear.

  “Really lost in the music that time, huh?”

  She makes a wry face.

  “At this point, I’m having a hard time discerning the real world to this stuff playing in my ears.”

  “It will be worth it,” I say, not really sure that it will. It’s the only response to give though.

  Anya pulls the other bud from her ear and tucks them both in the pocket of her cardigan sweater. The teams begin to make their way down the channel, so Anya, Ava, and I move toward the front of the deck that overlooks the route. Elena arrived while I was talking with Henry. I saw her; I saw her see us. She’s with some couple I don’t recognize, probably someone important whose opinion she’s harvesting. It’s not the couple that consumes me, though—it’s the girl about my age who’s standing with them, completely wrapped up in whatever Elena is saying.

  It shouldn’t matter, but somehow—in my gut—I know it does.

  Our boys begin to pass, so the three of us all remove our hats and begin to wave them for good luck. Caleb winks at me from his spot behind Henry, which is funny until Ava notices it.

  “He flirts with you a lot,” she says.

  “It’s harmless. Just him being funny,” I shake her off. I won’t betray Caleb’s trust, but I wish he would come out to our friends—to Henry. It’s become something that I struggle with between us. I don’t like having a secret from Henry, but this is Caleb’s to tell or not tell, and only when he’s ready.

  I feel Ava’s stare burn hot on my cheek from one side, but when I shift my eyes just a little, I notice Elena’s focus now on me to the right. I’m being squeezed. Choked. I blow a kiss to Henry to center myself, and he breaks his game face briefly, just long enough to glance my way and smile on my side. Goddamn, that dimple. It’s magical.

  My body shivers at the thought of the water, remembering how ice cold it really is. It’s not much warmer than it was when I fell in. We haven’t talked about Germany since that night. It’s a subject that lingers just off the page, though. It’s coming. He leaves at the end of May. I looked the program up online.

  “Warning, at three o’clock,” Anya whispers from the other side of Ava. Her words trigger both Ava and me to look, and I have the unfortunate luck of making eye contact with Elena as she gets closer. She’s bringing her guests, including the girl wearing a rival school’s plain skirt, appropriately rolled up to show off her over-the-knee socks and goosebump-marked thighs. I reach for my waist, shamefully, and while I don’t roll the band up one, I slide it up my ribs as high as it will go, gaining a few more inches of leg on the bottom.

  Pathetic.

  “Lily. I’m glad you’re here.” Elena’s greeting buries so many hidden meanings, most notably the fact that she’s not glad to see me, ever, and the hint of surprise that I’m here is totally false. She knew I would be here. In fact, I’m convinced she knows where I am at all times—always. I’m sure she hates how much I’m with Henry.

  “Elena,” I say, putting on the cursory smile that I’ve perfected. It’s the Satis House smile, or at least, that’s what Nicki and I call it. It’s how most of the parents interact with each other when they secretly hate one another. That smile gets passed on to their children, and they do the same around campus, making passive aggressive little digs at one another but always with the same, tight-mouthed smile. I’m only missing the sunglasses that hide the truth in my eyes. Elena’s good enough to mask hers without wearing glasses. Either that, or she doesn’t care that the person she looks at thinks she’s a bitch. She thinks it right back.

  “I haven’t seen you hardly at all this year. You haven’t been over with Alice to practice.” Her gaze is suspicious, but manipulative. It’s like she’s always four chess moves ahead of me.

  “The Satis House practice rooms are just so nice. It makes it easy for me to focus.”

  “Yes, and then you don’t have to come home on the weekends. I’m sure that’s been nice.” The smirk of a snake appears. “I’m sorry your aunt and uncle are splitting up.”

  “Alice,” I correct. “She’s just my…Alice.”

  Her eyes dim.

  “Like you’re just Elena. The same.”

  Her face has no reaction at all this time. Quiet seeps between us, and my friends excuse themselves. I know they have nowhere to go, but they just want to be far away from this. It’s hard to watch a dance with the devil. Nicki wouldn’t leave. She would try to cut in.

  “Have you met Stella, Lily?” Her segue is purposeful, and Stella is beautiful. Long, straight strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes set against the most perfect porcelain skin. She’s practically pulled straight from the pages of a private-school brochure, the kind that lures girls like me into the fantasy that we might just look like that if we go to one.

  “No, I haven’t.” I reach forward confidently to shake Stella’s hand, and the moment our palms meet, Elena shares the rest.

  Checkmate.

  “Her family is the one who bought that house next door. You remember that night Henry came home late. Oh, you know him, sneaking out to spend time with pretty girls.”

  My hand twitches and Stella’s goes slightly limp. I know why I’m reacting this way—because this is the pretty girl Elena insisted Henry meet, the ideal prom date, a real society girl. And her father is the one she thought Henry could learn from. Stella’s reaction makes me wonder what twisted seeds Elena has planted about me.

  “I’ve been giving Stella lessons at the house. Since you weren’t using the room anymore, I thought…”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’m nowhere as good as you. Henry said you’re good enough to play in a concert hall.” Stella’s eyes dart nervously between Elena and me, and I can tell she’s worried that I’m offended by the attack on my talent. She has no idea that Elena is after my heart.

  “I’m sure you play beautifully,” I say, somehow making my outsides mask the chaos happening in my chest.

  “Stella attends Rosenwood. Well…at least she does until May.” Elena’s lips tighten, the age lines accented by her lipstick deepening with her pleasure.

  “Oh, you’re going to a new school next year?” I play along, shifting my weight and holding my hands together in front of my body to force myself to stay calm.

  “Just for the year. I got into this great program in Germany. I’m a little nervous about being away from home, but it’s such a rare opportunity. I had to.”

  Rare. So very rare.

  “Of course, she’ll have Henry around, so that should help.” Elena says these words for me, but she glances to Stella’s parents as if she’s saying it to set them at ease.

  Ease was never her intent. Not for any of it. It never is. Elena thrives off others’ mayhem.

  “Of course,” I repeat, a million shocks firing away at once while I search for an out. I’m drowning in the details—the fact that Henry hasn’t mentioned this girl once, let alone the fact that she’s going to Germany. He’s talked about me to her, though—she knows my name. She knows how well I play the freaking piano! She’s a complete secret to me, and I am an open book to her, which means that the sick feeling in my gut is exactly what Elena wants to be there.