All Our Yesterdays (6 page)

I hate him.

“Hey, Marina!” he says when he follows James back into the kitchen. “Sweet pjs.”

I roll my eyes and don’t say anything. I don’t even look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to break up the party.”

I accidentally glance over at him, and his eyes are alight with mocking triumph. Oh yeah, real sorry. The new boy who used to eat lunch at the edge of the basketball team’s table but had no real friends is the only one who’s managed to worm his way in with James; he knows
exactly
what he’s doing. James slides him a spoon as Nate appears from upstairs.

“Hi, Marina,” he says. “Mr. Abbott.”

“Hey, Congressman.”

“You guys know I hate it when you call me that,” he says, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Nate’s almost twice James’s age and has raised him since he was twelve, but he’s not like a
dad
or anything. He jogs shirtless through the neighborhood in the summer, is the only person who can beat the boys at Call of Duty, and still helps me sneak into R-rated movies sometimes. “I’ve got to run to the office for a couple of hours. Top secret spy work.”

Nate is on the House Intelligence Committee, and he likes to pretend this makes him James Bond. “So, paperwork?” I say.

“Exactly, smart-ass.” He drops a kiss on the crown of my head. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone, okay?”

James’s stupid friend salutes. “Yes, sir!”

“Very funny.”

“I’d better go, too,” I say, seizing Nate’s exit as an opportunity to get out myself. The idea of James asking what I was going to tell him with his friend sitting right there makes me want to vomit. “Mom’s going to freak.”

“Let me grab my briefcase, and I’ll walk you out,” Nate says.

“Hey,” Abbott says, “don’t let me run you off.”

“You wish.”

“Can we talk later?” James asks, catching my hand. “I have some work to do first, but then . . .”

My chest swells, because I’m pathetic. “Sure.”

Nate appears at my side, briefcase in tow and coat already on. “Ready?”

“
Nighty-night, Marina!” the idiot says. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

I punch his shoulder on my way out. Hard. “Shut up, Finn.”

“So, how was Connecticut?” I ask Nate as we walk out of the house.

He shrugs and swings his car keys around his index finger. “Fine. Good to be home, though. James really missed you.”

I brighten. “Yeah?”

“You bet.” He musses my hair, too, which is either a Shaw thing or a Marina-is-still-twelve thing. “Me too.”

“Thanks. Don’t work too hard, okay?”

Maybe it’s a trick of the light as we pass out of the shadows and into the glow of the streetlamp, but Nate’s expression seems to change, become harder. He smiles at me, but it looks different than usual. “We’ll see.”

“You okay?” I say, noticing for the first time that there are dark smudges under his eyes and his skin looks oddly tight, like the muscles underneath are rigid with tension. “You look kind of awful.”

“Ugh.” Nate grabs his stomach like I’ve punched him. “Way to hit me where it hurts.”

I grin. “You know what I mean. Is everything okay? We’re not about to be invaded by Canada, are we?”

“No, nothing that terrifying,” he says, unlocking his car and tossing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat. “I’ve just been busy with this investigation, ate up my whole recess. It’s nothing for you to worry about, though.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Do you . . .” Nate runs a hand across his forehead. “I’m sorry, Marina, this is a weird thing for me to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Could you . . . keep an eye on James for me?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m worried he’s working too hard.”

I laugh. “He’s always working too hard!”

“Yeah,” Nate says, “but this seems different. Can you just let me know if he says anything odd, or starts acting different? Different for James, I mean.”

A chill runs up my spine, and I pull my coat closed. It’s colder out here than I realized. “Sure, I guess.”

“Thanks, Marina,” Nate says. “You’re a good friend. Now get inside before you freeze.”

I smile and make my way back across the lawn. “Good night, Congressman!”

“Nate!” he shouts after me, and he waits beside his car until I’m safely inside my own house.

A faint trilling drags me up from the depths of sleep. I manage to crack open one bleary eye and reach for my cell phone, which is glowing blue in the dark of my bedroom.
james
, the display reads.

“Ugh.” I press the answer button. “Why are you calling me, you lunatic?”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks.

“Of course not. It’s only . . .” I glance at the clock. “Two thirty in the morning.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I started working after Finn left, and I guess I lost track of time.”

I climb out of bed and wrap a throw blanket around my shoulders. With the phone still pressed to my ear, I settle into the window seat across the room from my bed. James sits in the window opposite, surrounded by a mountain of open books and papers, the golden glow of his desk lamp making a halo around him.

“Remember when we used to have two soup cans strung between our rooms?” he asks. The sound of his voice through the phone lags a fraction of a second behind the movement of his lips, so he looks like one of the filmstrips we used to watch in elementary school: not quite synced right.

I smile. “Quickly replaced by walkie-talkies, if I remember correctly. Mom said having cans hung from the windows made us look like hobos.”

“Yeah, but they were more fun.”

“Is this what you woke me up for?”

“I forget how cranky you get when you’re sleepy.” He smiles. “Actually, there was something I meant to ask you before you ran off earlier—”

“I did not
run off
—”

“Nate’s speaking at some DNC fund-raiser at the Mandarin Oriental tomorrow,” James continues, ignoring me, “and they need a couple of bodies to fill empty chairs. It’ll probably be boring, but he already put your name on the list and had you vetted, so do you feel like having a free dinner while the vice president speaks tomorrow night?”

Is James asking me out? A month ago the thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind, but now . . .

“Do I get to dress up?” I ask.

“Black tie. And you thought you’d never have an excuse to wear your winter-formal dress again.”

A fancy dinner in a D.C. ballroom with James in a tux. Yeah, I think I can handle that. My mind instantly spins an elaborate fantasy: James’s face when he sees me in my dress, the way our hands will brush and linger as we both reach for the butter dish, the impromptu dance he’ll sweep me into under a streetlamp. He’ll lean forward and say the thing he’s been meaning to tell me, that he’s been waiting weeks to say: that he’s in love with me and can’t live without me.

“Finn’s coming, too.”

The dream shatters at my feet, and I scrunch up my face. Finn Abbott ruins
everything
.

James sees my expression and laughs. “You should give him a chance. I think you’d really like him. He likes
you
.”

“Aww, you are so terrible at spotting a liar. It’s almost sweet.”

“Anyway—”

“I don’t get why you’re friends with him. He’s an idiot.”

“No, he’s not. He’s amazing with computers, you know, even builds his own.”

“Okay, so he’s a big nerd like you. He’s still an idiot.”

“He’s funny,” James says, “and he treats me like a normal person. Could you at least try to be nice to him for one night?”

I sigh. “If the fund-raiser’s going to be boring, you have to let me have fun somehow.”

He smiles, and I swear the room gets a little brighter. “Fair enough. So, you in?”

It may not be quite the fairy tale I’d hoped for, but it’s still James in a tux. Even with Finn there. “Definitely.”

“Great! You’d better get some sleep, then. It’s late.”

“Oh, is it really?”

“Ha, ha.” He starts to get up, but then stops. “Oh, wait. What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?”

I don’t feel real without you beside me.

I swallow. I can’t do it, not now. “Nothing. Tell you later.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too. Probably better when you’re not half asleep.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“’
Night, Marina.”

He hangs up and walks away, and a moment later the light in his room goes out. I press my face close to my window and exhale, fogging up the pane of glass, and draw a heart with one fingertip.

“
What
did you do?” Tamsin says when I open the door.

“Nothing!” I say. “I couldn’t say or do
anything
! He said he needed to tell me something, and I said I did, too, but then I couldn’t. So I just pretended like things were normal, and then Finn Abbott came over—”

Tamsin makes a face.

“—and I left! I need your help.”

She loops my arm in hers. “You’re pretty much a hopeless case, Marina, but if anyone can salvage your pathetic love life, it’s me.”

She leads me upstairs and sits me down on my bed while she goes through my closet, jewelry, and makeup—most of which she helped me pick out—and assembles her tools. Sophie arrives twenty minutes later with a bag of shoes and a rolling suitcase full of cosmetics and hair products. They start to argue about the merits of sparkle versus no sparkle and send me off to take a shower.

When I emerge in my robe, they’re both ready for me. Sophie sits me down in my desk chair, where an array of products is lined up, waiting for me. “We’ve got this,” she says. “You’re going to look
hot
.”

Tamsin starts on my makeup and Sophie on my hair, and I just close my eyes and let it happen. They’re good at this kind of stuff, and I’m obviously not. Not
looking
stupid tonight is step number one in not
being
stupid.

Now I just need to figure out how to act.

“We were talking while you were in the shower,” Tamsin says, “and we’ve decided he’s definitely just being shy, and you have to take charge.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophie says, working through a snarl in my hair.

“But how do I
do
that?” I say.

“You’ve got to embrace your inner hotness.” Tam tilts my chin up, and I open my eyes. “You’re best friends with
James Shaw
. You live in the best part of town, your dad practically runs the World Bank, and ever since you became friends with us, you’re one of the most popular girls at Sidwell. You’re D.C. royalty, Marina, and you’ve got to own that already. The boy would be lucky to have you.”

I guess she’s right. I have come a long way. James used to be my only real friend at Sidwell, until the stupid genius graduated when I was still thirteen and left me stranded. But then Tamsin and Sophie took me under their wing, and now everyone turns their heads when I walk into a room.

“Okay,” I say. “Yeah.
Yeah.
I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” Tam says. “Just be confident.”

“Just rip his clothes off!” Sophie says. “He’s a
boy
. He won’t be able to resist.”

“Oh my God, Soph,” Tamsin says. “You are such a slut.”

Sophie beams. “I know.” Tamsin and I laugh, and Sophie adds, “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No, you’re not.” Tamsin motions for me to open my mouth and starts applying lipstick. “You should totally sleep with him. Hello, you’re going to some fancy party that probably has an open bar, and your parents are
out of town
. It’s perfect. Plus, you’re sixteen already. Go much longer and it starts to get embarrassing.”

“And having James Shaw as your first, oh my God!”

Tamsin’s words send ice through my veins.
It starts to get embarrassing.
I flash back to me at thirteen, hovering at the entrance to the dining hall, with absolutely nowhere to go, seeing each table as a potential land mine. I ate in a locked bathroom stall for the first two weeks of school just to avoid it, just like James once told me he did for an entire semester, hiding in the bathroom by sitting cross-legged on the toilet whenever the things outside the door got to be too much for him. I can’t ever be that girl again.

Besides, I love James. He’s sweet and famous and handsome. Why
shouldn’t
I sleep with him?

“Totally,” I say, and although it sounds weak in my ears, they don’t seem to notice.

For the next half hour, I suffer through Tam and Sophie pulling and poking and prodding at me, all while they dispense sex advice that makes my stomach churn with nerves. I’m not a
total
innocent, but Tam still complains that my skin is too flushed for her to do my makeup right.