“Beauty, Where IKEA is a LittleTooProgressive,” he says.
I chuckle and try another one. “Beauty, Where Tabasco Sauce is Sort of Unnecessary, Really?”
Then he says: “I’ve been one of your anonymous Photo Funder subscribers since you started the account.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, lashes covering eyes that stare at the floor between us. “I wanted to, but I was worriedyou’d think it was weird. Especially after what Adrian said about nudes at the party and him flashing that pic of your mom.”
My brain tries to make sense of it. “I started that account last summer. I was living in …” Where? I can’t even remember where Mom and I were. “Massachusetts.”
“Your grandmother told me about it.”
I stare at his shirt, the color of it disappearing in the safelight’s eerie glow. My pulse swishes inside my temples so loudly that I can’t think straight. “She told you about my photography subscription account? You’ve been following me online for … a year?”
“Well, your photos. You don’t really say anything personal—just the photo descriptions. You don’t even have a recent selfie posted, so it’s not like I’ve been spying on you.”
“I don’t care about that. I care about the fact that you’ve been there all this time and haven’t said anything to me. This whole time? We could have been talkingall this time? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know.…” His brow furrows like he’s a little unsure, and he finally admits, “I wanted to get back in touch with you somehow, but I didn’t know how to go about doing it. When I found out about your website, at first, I thought it was the perfect way to reconnect. But then I lost my nerve to speak up, so I just sort of stayed in the shadows. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
“You should have told me!”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m …”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m hurt that you didn’t reach out to me and say hello,” I say, getting flustered. “No one in my family communicates normally, so I was led to believe … I thought your family moved away from Beauty, okay? I didn’t even know you were still here. We could have been friends online. Mom and I have come to visit every year or so—were you at Evie’s dad’s funeral?”
“We were out of town that weekend. We went to the wake the night before—”
Oh. Mom and I didn’t make it into town until late that night, after the wake.
I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter now. You should’ve told me it was you online.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” he says, a little angry … a little desperate.
We were so close, yet so far. Connected by my photos but separated by his anonymity. The sorrow of this catches me off guard and tightens inside my chest.
“I checked that old email account of mine for years, hoping you’d reply to my last email. You don’t know how lonely I was, Lucky.”
“About the same as me?” he challenges, dark eyes narrowing. “Or maybe a little less, seeing as how you got to leave, and I was stuck here, all alone. You were off seeing the world, but I was trapped.”
“Lucky, Mom and I wereliterallyliving in Section 8 housing before we moved to Beauty. Do you know what that is?”
“So? You haven’t been trapped. You’ve traveled. You’ve seen things.”
Oh, I’ve seen things, all right.
But… But. I guess I never thought about it that way. Maybe he has a point.
He lifts a hand. “Now look at you. Don’t even want to be here anymore. All you think about is running off to Malibu to live with a man you don’t even know—that’s how much you hate it here?”
“Hey!” I snap. “You may remember that people are circulating nude photos of my mother around town and saying that it’s me, making kissy faces at me when I walk down the street—okay? And this jet-setter life of mine that you’re painting in your mind has been gossiped about and criticized at Beauty High since the day I walked through the doors. So don’t make it sound like I’ve had the red carpet rolled out for me.”
“And don’t make it sound like you haven’t had anyone to help you fix that. Because both me and my family are now shouldering the load for you.”
