Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

11 | And The Point Goes to Emily

I did, actually. Fast-talking girl for one. "There were a couple," I say.

"Those girls are only at Zachary because people like me contribute to a scholarship fund to pay their way. They have no choice but to follow the rules. You, my darling, are above reproach."

We had scholarship students at Mason too, but the rules were the same for everyone.

"Don't look so sour," Emily says. "It's not like I campaign for social injustice. It's just the way it is; the way it's always been."

She's thinking about her days at Zachary. I can tell because the only time she and my mother sound anything alike is when they talk about—or rather, talk around the time they spent there.

"Who else did you meet today?" Emily asks.

"Conner Barlow."

"Barlow..." She shakes her head. "I don't know any Barlows."

"Paige Lyons," I say.

"You met the Lyons girl at school?"

"Yes."

She downs the rest of her vodka tonic. "Well, good for her," she says, heading for the bar. "I cried for days when Anne Marie died. I never saw it coming."

"Who was Anne Marie?" I ask.

Ice cubes clink into Emily's glass. "My friend. Paige's mother. She committed suicide four years ago."

* * *

Aunt Emily stops by my designated guest room on her way to bed. "I decorated this room for my ex-mother-in-law," she says, like the memory pains her. "She loved weddings—thus the white. I tried to do it tastefully..."

"It's pretty," I say but really, it's gorgeous. Everything is white: the Oriental rug, the drapes, the bedding. The only variation is in the textures of the fabrics and then there's the occasional blush of pale pink. "It's just not very practical," I add. "I could move into the smaller room..."

"No, no. A teenager needs space, and her own bathroom. I was thinking we could redo it. You and I. Together. It would be fun, right?"

No, no.

I smile and nod my lying head off.

"Any ideas?" she asks.

I don't really want to put anything of myself in this room. I'm not staying. I give her a shrug.

"Favorite color?"

I think of Glenn's eyes. "Brown."

She grimaces. "Favorite time period?"

"Colonial American."

"Well, I suppose I can work with that. I'll bring some magazines home. We'll figure something out. Goodnight, darling. Give my love to the little Lyon tomorrow."

Usually when my aunt calls you darling, she's doing it to patronize or to get something she wants. Tonight, there's a note of sincerity that reminds me of my mother. Or maybe I'm just being dramatic because I miss Mom and I hate the thought of something happening to her.

"Goodnight," I call after my aunt. Then I find Conner's text from this morning and type him a message: How long have you known Paige?

He replies within seconds: Forever.

My aunt was friends with her mom.

Didn't know that.

She told me what happened four years ago. So, is that the reason...?