Chapter 19: Chapter 19

It’s April first, and so far, nobody has fooled me. The diner has become our hangout away from Montlake. The art building is long gone, and the foundation for the new Page Visual Communication Center will be poured in a few weeks, as soon as the weather warms up. The courtyard has been replaced by the diner, and instead of hosting the outcasts of Montlake, it’s now the nerve center against Arielle.

It’s after school, and thank God, the sun is still out as Beth and I park our cars in the municipal parking lot and head over to meet Cora in the diner.

Lexi is firmly on Team Arielle, and it’s forcing a wedge between her and Cora. I find that amazing. Cora always seemed like the die-hard, and Lexi seemed edgier and ready to rebel. Still, looks are deceiving as Cora slides into the booth at the diner to plot revenge. She has no intel on Arielle today except that she’s backing off Lucas and spending more time at her parents’ house.

Cora eats a kale salad with bacon bits as if it’s an ice-cream sundae. It amazes me that this girl can be satisfied by raw leaves. She’s guaranteed to be skinny forever.

“You aren’t worried about Arielle?” I ask. “Catching you with us?”

Cora shakes her wavy red curls. “Nope, Arielle thinks Bloomridge Avenue is low-rent.” She frowns, looking down at the scuffed floor. “Just because they don’t have a Lululemon, I guess.”

I smile and take a large bite of my grilled chicken Caesar sandwich. “So, I guess no news of Arielle is good news.”

“That’s not right.” Beth frowns at her spinach and feta panini. “No news means we’re in the dark.”

“Well, she’s stopped digging into Lucas,” Cora continues. “Cromwell called them into his office, and a guidance counselor gave them a lecture. He told them they were setting a bad example and lowering school spirit.”

Beth puts her panini on her plate. “I should have ordered a gyro.” She sighs. “Yeah, that whole marriage thing ... it’s making me want to stay single.”

Out of nowhere, Cora whimpers. At first, I don’t know what she’s doing. I don’t understand that sound. It’s like a combination of a sneeze and a hiss, but we watch as a huge teardrop rolls down her face and lands on her plate.

Beth’s hand grips her fork like a talisman. She looks at me, and I look at her. Her mouth scrunches up as she sits back, trying to distance herself from what’s coming. I nudge Beth’s shoulder, frowning, and mouth the words, “Say something to her.”

The noise comes again from Cora’s trembling lips. And then she makes this wheezing sound. Maybe she has allergies or food poisoning? I look at Beth again, but she’s just staring across the table in confusion. Fuck, I’ve got to do something.

“Cora,” I say softly. “Are you okay?”

Her face is bright red, and it matches her hair and lipstick perfectly. I swear I bite my lip when I turn to look at Beth. Beth’s eyes are bugging as she stares at Cora. Poor Cora.

“Are you ill?” I whisper.

Cora shakes her head and then lets out a wail. We get looks. The waitress, who must be the same age as our teachers, leans over the counter, staring down the aisle at us. Alarmed, she wastes no time hurrying toward our table.

I grab Cora’s hand, and Beth grabs the other. “Can I have a glass of water for my friend?” I ask.

“Is she choking?” the waitress asks, as she moves a chair aside.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “Cora, can you speak to me?”

She sobs and tears run down her face, leaving dark streaks of mascara. “I’m scared to get married.”

Exasperated, the waitress throws her hands in the air as she walks away to another table. A few heads continue to look over the booths in our direction, but soon Cora is breathing normally, and her face has cooled off. But the waitress is kind enough to return and bring Cora a wet towel to dab her face. I thought Cora would turn up her nose at the dingy white cloth, but she doesn’t. She wipes her face, clearing away the makeup. Surprisingly, Cora looks younger and sweeter without a layer of brightly colored product on her face. She inhales a few times and then leans back in her seat.

“God, I needed that.” She sighs.

“You’re really that upset about getting married?” I ask. “I thought you loved Mancuso.”

“I do love Nicholas,” she replies earnestly, “but Arielle and Lucas are a train wreck. And it’s not fun to watch them fight. I thought she was going to pop a vein in the side of her head the last time she was screaming at him.”

“Yeah, those fights are not pretty.” Beth looks at me furtively, but she doesn’t say much else.

I haven’t witnessed it yet, but I’ve heard that Arielle became physical, striking Lucas’ back as he walked away. He wouldn’t dare hit a woman. He’d knock Arielle out just by tapping his finger against her forehead. He can’t retaliate in that way, and she takes advantage of it.

“It won’t be the same for you, Cora,” I speak to her gently. “Marriage is a business plan at Montlake. You’re seeing the result of an arranged marriage that kids at Montlake are expected to enter, but not for you and Mancuso. You chose one another.”

Cora nods. “Yes, he did pick me, and eventually, I couldn’t get enough of him.”

I continue. “My parents’ marriage was based on love, not building alliances. They met in school—well college, to be exact.

My parents met at a campus party at the student union. They were there with their blind dates, but Dad knew Mom was the one when she squeezed pass him to the bar, with her chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes, and a laugh that made you want to join in whether you got the joke or not. Dad just knew, and when he saw her the following week, walking across campus, he chased after her. My father said it was love at first sight, but my mother said it took her three more days to decide. But when it happened, it happened.”

Softly, Cora hiccups and then takes a sip of water. “They sound like they were wonderful people—kind of like their daughter.”

I freeze for a moment, thinking about how much they were in love. “They were. And the way Mancuso looks at you is the same way my dad used to look at my mother. And she loved him a lot.”

Beth passes Cora a clean napkin, and Cora blows her nose. The sound she makes is no louder than a sigh. “God, she’s such a girl,” whispers Beth. “She even cries pretty.”

“Thank you, Natalie,” says Cora. “It’s really sweet of you to share that.” Cora pauses. “I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

I nod my head, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

“I’d like you to be my maid of honor.” Cora smiles radiantly, and I laugh like I’m being tickled. Soon, Beth is laughing too.

“Oh my, April Fool’s,” I gasp. “Nice one, Cora.”

“It’s not a joke.” She looks insulted. “I can ask you again tomorrow if you don’t believe me.”

I stop laughing so I can stare at her. “Why me?”

“I’m not asking Arielle after she threw my promise ring into the pit. And Lexi barely speaks to me after I gave Arielle grief over it. Lexi is a company girl.” Cora looks at Beth. “She wishes she was as cool as you.”

“Don’t we all,” replies Beth smugly.

“And I thought about asking you Beth,” continues Cora, “but Natalie, I was sort of shitty to you when I shouldn’t have been, so I want to make it up to you.”

I’m a bit stunned. “Does it matter that much? I’m not ungrateful that you asked. I’m flattered, but you won’t see me after a few months, not ever again.”

It’s silent at the table as we all fidget. After all, it’s April first, and Arielle may be laughing at us right now for being gullible. Cora puts on lip gloss while Beth finishes her iced tea. I cross my arms and bounce my foot. Cora has to have a better explanation than righting a wrong.