Even the fluffy-haired woman running the front desk, Miss Bing, looked me over when the officer brought us in and shook her head slowly, as if to say: Oh … It’s the Saint-Martin girl. Can’t say I didn’t expect this. And you know, with my family’s track record and all the rumors swirling around town, in a way, can’t say I didn’t either.
I just didn’t think it would be me doing the screwing-up.
Being both seventeen and very much minors, Lucky and I aren’t being straight-up arrested and charged with a crime—at least, not yet. It’s all very confusing. The security guard back at the department store couldn’t get in touch with anyone higher up in management, what with it being a weekend and so late, so we’ll have to wait to find out what’s going to happen … I think? It’s been a blur, and they aren’t exactly keeping us in the loop.
All I know is that for the moment, we have to sit tight until our parents arrive. Lucky was able to reach his folks on the first try. Of course my mom didn’t answer. Where is Winona Saint-Martin at midnight? Good question, and despite all her promises to cool it with the online dating, I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s doing right now. But, hey. It’s hard for me to be righteous in the middle of a police station.
And wherever she is, I finally got Evie to answer, and she tracked Mom down, so I guess I won’t be locked up in the slammer all night. Small miracles.
Right now, I’m sitting next to Lucky in an uncomfortably hard blue plastic chair at a table that smells nauseatingly of stale cigarette smoke. We haven’t said much to each other. Haven’t had the chance. Now that we’re alone, I feel sick to my stomach that he’s even here.
After all, Lucky didn’t throw the rock.
“I tried to tell the security guard it was me … ,” I say quietly. My voice is hoarse.
“I know,” he says. “It looked bad for both of us.”
“Oh God,” I moan. “I’m so sorry. Can you explain to your parents that you weren’t involved? Surely they can talk to the cops, and they’ll just let you go.”
“Me?” He makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “Have you gotten a whiff of my reputation lately? It stinks like the dumpster behind Clam Shack number thirteen before garbage pickup day.”
I groan. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I don’t even know why I did it. I’m not a criminal! I’ve never even gotten detention at school.”
He snorts a little laugh. “Goodie for you. I haven’t had it this month. Look, this isn’t new territory for me. I’ve been in this room before. It all worked itself out. Had to do some community service. That’s it.”
“I doubt they’re going to make me mow a lawn.” I say.
He shakes his head. “Probably not.”
I cover my face. “What was I thinking? My mom is going to murder me. Am I going to be shipped off to juvie? Will I have a record? I’ll never be able to convince them to give me another shot at that magazine internship.”
Lucky scratches his chin. “I thought you said you were trying out for it?”
“They turned me down. Levi Summers came into the meeting, and he’s a stickler about rules. He pulled my submission because I’m too young.”
He exhales, long and low. “That’s why you got so mad?”
“I needed another reason?” I say, angry tears threatening again as Adrian’s drunken face pops back up in my mind.
“No,” he agrees. “Definitely not. Sorry.”
“Oh God. I’m screwed,” I murmur. “All of my big plans … My father won’t let me move up there now. Not with a police record. I’m stuck here. I’ll probably never go to college, and I’ll end up like my mom, completely resentful about her life choices and unable to hold down a job.”
“Whoa,” Lucky says. “Back it up. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Maybe the Saint-Martin women don’t have a love curse. My mom’s right—this whole town is cursed.”
He squints at me. “That stupid love curse? Don’t tell me you’re buying into that now.”
“Hey, it’s just like you said—we’ve got the word ‘Siren’ plastered right above our door. Temptation, right? We’re cursed! Wanna know a secret? I’m a virgin. How’s that for irony, huh? Wild Winona’s daughter—who’s allegedly running a sordid nude subscription service online, proof provided by Adrian—is a virgin. There’s your curse, right there. Happy?”
“Jesus, Josie,” he says, looking embarrassed as he scans the corners of the room. Like maybe we’re being watched or recorded. “I didn’t—”
Well? We used to tell each other everything. Besides, he’s the one who brought up porn outside the pool house. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. “Know what’s funny? Between me and my mom, I’m the adult,” I tell him. “The responsible one who sits at home alone and does my homework and has to remind Mom to pay the electricity bill on time so I don’t have to sit in the dark or walk to Starbucks for Wi-Fi until she can get it turned back on again.”
“Josie,” he says. Feeling sorry for me, pleading for me to shut up … it’s hard to tell.
But it’s too late for that. I have held myself under tight, careful control for too long, not communicating with my mom, not communicating with anyone, and now the levee’s broken.
I’m awash in emotion.
“This isn’t me. I’m a good girl,” I insist, feeling tears prick the backs of my eyelids. “All I wanted was to get out of here before the time bomb exploded between Grandma and Mom when the Nepal trip ended—and for a chance for a real family with my father in LA. Now I won’t be surprised if my mom shoves me back into the Pink Panther and drags me off to some other town once she hears what I’ve done here in the portal to hell.”
“She’d really do that?” he asks, sounding shocked. “Make you leave Beauty again?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. I … I was trying to keep my head down and mind my own business. Now everyone is going to be getting their jollies looking at a photo of my mom, thinking it’s me? What is wrong with this town?”
“It was so small on Adrian’s phone screen, probably half the people in the pool house didn’t see it.”
“You looked?”
Face long, he lays his head on the table, and that only makes me more miserable.
The door to the holding room opens. An officer tells Lucky his parents are here to pick him up, and he can leave the station with them. A little panic rises in me when Lucky stands to leave. Suddenly I don’t want him to go. It’s as if the past few years have disappeared, and we’re twelve again—two geeky shy kids who bonded over books and video games and bad D&D campaigns at our secret North Star boatshed hideaway at the end of the Harborwalk. This night has turned me upside down.
“Hey,” he says to me in a low voice. “Don’t sweat. It’s going to be fine. One of the good things about Beauty is that if people here expect you to be something, it’s easy for them to continue believing it.”