Macarons at Midnight Read online

  We’d been flipping through the pages of Viv’s yearbook since lunch started, without any luck. Scouring the yearbook had been her idea, after our other attempts to find “Romeo” (as Viv had nicknamed him after finding out his first name started with R) had failed. I’d taken Romeo’s painting to the art room during lunch on Tuesday, but Mr. Diaz hadn’t been able to give me any new leads.

  “I wish I could say I knew who it was,” he’d said. “This piece is one of a kind. But if one of my students experimented with mediums like this, believe me, I’d remember.” As I was leaving, he called out, “If you find him, tell him I want his work in the school art show in March. No excuses!”

  Every day while I waited for the bus (yes, I’d managed to find the right one after Monday’s disaster), I searched the students’ faces but never saw him. Now it was Friday, and a whole week had gone by since I’d last seen him. With each passing day I felt deeper disappointment and a growing fear that I’d missed my chance. What if he didn’t go to my school at all? Worse, what if he didn’t even live in Whitman?

  Now, Kyan rubbed the top of his fuzzy cropped hair, a habit I’d noticed over the course of our week together. It usually meant he was about to say something he was afraid no one wanted to hear. It was one of the endearing traits about Kyan, who I’d begun thinking of as a semi-goofball surrogate brother. I’d glommed on to him as my school and town tour guide, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I suspected he may have been as much in need of a friend as I was. It was one of those Introverts Unite moments.

  “Is it possible,” he started hesitantly, “that you don’t remember what he looked like? I mean, you said it was dark in the patisserie, and you were wearing your mask—”

  “Ky-an.” I drew out his name for frustration’s sake. “I remember exactly what he looked like.”

  Viv gave him a playful slap on the arm, and Kyan blushed madly. “Of course she does. Nobody forgets the face of true love.”

  “Faces, in your case,” I said teasingly.

  “Watch it!” Viv said, elbowing me. Since Monday, Viv had seamlessly moved on from a flirtathon with Griffin to one with Ben and Holden, at the same time. One of them was taking her to the movies tonight, and the other tomorrow. Watching them argue over who would carry her books for her between classes was more entertaining than an episode of The Bachelorette.

  Three days ago, I never would’ve risked a dig at one of the school’s most beautiful and popular girls, but just like with Kyan, Viv and I were starting to reach a friendship comfort zone. Behind Viv’s flawless model looks was a funny, spirited girl who orbited around the school’s cliques without ever settling into any one for long. She was as comfortable eating lunch with Kyan and me as she was with Mona, Griffin, and their more glamorous crowd. She seemed so well liked that if she’d decided to run for student body president, she would’ve been a shoo-in. Of course, when I’d suggested that, she’d laughed airily.

  “Me?” She rolled her eyes. “My mom would never let me. Not with the amount of school I have to miss for photo shoots.” Still, though, she’d smiled at the idea.

  Now, her brow crinkled as she tapped the cover of the yearbook, lost in thought. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “You can’t find your guy because he’s in the high school!” She propped her chin up on her elbow and grinned at me slyly. “Ooooh, you’ve snagged the heart of an older man!”

  “I guess it’s possible,” I said. “But he didn’t look that much older than us. He could be a freshman.”

  “R, R, R …” Viv mumbled, then she locked eyes with Kyan, and both their faces lit up.

  “Raphael!” they cried simultaneously.

  “Who?” I asked blankly.

  “Raphael Moretti,” Kyan said. “He’s a freshman at the high school. He moved here halfway through eighth grade …”

  “Which would explain why he’s not in last year’s yearbook,” Viv said. “He missed school picture day.”

  “His name starts with R,” Kyan continued, sounding more optimistic by the second, “he has dark hair, olive skin, and I think he won an award in the school art show last year!”

  My heart lifted hopefully. “Sounds like it could be him.”

  “Yes!” cried Viv, high-fiving Kyan. “We’ve solved the mystery of the Romeo Romance.” She nudged Kyan. “We make a great team.”

  “Yup,” Kyan said, beaming deliriously. He was finally getting braver around Viv, talking more, breaking out of the snail shell. But he never stopped looking smitten around her, and Viv never seemed to pick up on it. “We can look for him after dismissal today.”

  Viv stood up to throw away her lunch trash. “I’ll meet you at the flagpole.” She clapped her hands gleefully. “There’s no way I want to miss this reunion.”

  “We might miss the bus, though,” Kyan said to me. “But I’ll walk home with you after. Your street’s on my way.”

  I nodded. “I’ll text Gail to let her know, but I think that should be okay.” Even though it was blustery cold outside, walking would be a nice change. It felt more natural to me than sitting on the stuffy bus anyway. Besides, it would be good to learn the way home, just in case I ever missed my bus again.

  The bell rang, and we hurried to our lockers. I texted Gail while I walked, and as I did, my inbox pinged with a new email. I opened it and grinned. It was from the MinuteMan Press, requesting an interview with me on Monday after school. I quickly emailed back a confirmation and walked into Algebra with rising spirits.

  Things were looking up. I had a legit chance at a job on the school paper, and within a few hours, I might finally come face-to-face with my Romeo.

  “Here he comes!” Viv whisper-shrieked, jabbing her finger at the crowd of high schoolers spilling out of the doors. “He’s the guy in the quilted green parka. See him?”

  I scanned the sea of coats and hats, finally honing in on a forest green jacket. My heart clattered louder than my chattering teeth as my eyes traveled from his coat to his face. It had to be him. Please let it be him.

  “It’s not him,” I said. My stomach buckled under the weight of my disappointment.

  “Are you sure?” Kyan asked. “He’s wearing a hat. Maybe you should go up to him …”

  “I’m sure.” His features weren’t anything like I’d remembered, and his eyes were a bright blue. All wrong. “Raphael’s not my Romeo.”

  Viv sighed, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. “Sorry, Lise.”

  “Thanks.” I tucked my face further into my scarf to hide my wilting expression. “I guess that’s it, then.”

  “No!” Kyan said, so forcefully that Viv and I both turned our heads to stare. “I mean, even if it’s impossible, if you know it’ll never happen, it doesn’t matter. When you like someone that much …” His voice faded as he blushed. “When you like someone that much, a small part of you always keeps fighting, even when the rest of you gives up.”

  “Wow,” Viv said appreciatively. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

  It did, but Kyan shrugged, staring at the ground. I wondered if he realized he’d given himself some sort of accidental pep talk about Viv.

  “So what’s next?” I asked. “I tried everything …”

  “Maybe you should stop trying,” Viv said, “and see if he finds you. Maybe he’s looking for you just like you’re looking for him.” She glanced toward the parking lot. “Oh, I have to run. My mom’s here to pick me up, and I have to get ready. Tonight’s the movies with Holden.” She blushed, then added, “Sorry. I feel bad ditching you for a date …”

  “Don’t be,” I said, making my voice brighter. “Just because I don’t have my Romeo, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have yours. I’m happy for you.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Kyan’s voice came out muffled. He’d pulled his mouth into his scarf and was studying the pavement intently.

  “I want details later!” I said, knowing that was the good-friend thing to say, even though I wasn’t much in the mood to hear Viv
raving about her crush.

  Viv waved as she headed for the parking lot. “I’ll text you!”

  Kyan and I turned to walk home, with him looking as morose as I felt.

  “I can’t believe Viv’s going out with Holden,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I give her a week with him before it falls apart.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, wanting to cling to some optimism about boys, no matter how small.

  Kyan raised an eyebrow at me. “He’s an even bigger jerk than Trent.” He sighed. “I know Viv and I will never happen. But, just once, I’d like her to end up with a nice guy, you know? That’s the worst part.”

  I nodded. I totally got that. Sometimes you wanted happiness for people you loved even when how they found it made you unhappy. I remembered feeling that way about my parents’ divorce.

  “You know what the worst part of today was for me?” I said. “Realizing that I’ll never figure out who Romeo is. He’s out there somewhere, but he isn’t thinking about me. He’s forgotten all about the Frog Princess.”

  And after what had just happened with Viv, poor Kyan didn’t even have the heart to disagree.

  “It’s a mistake,” Simone said, her voice tinny and garbled with bad cell reception.

  “What?” I strained to hear her. “A mistake? So you don’t think I should stop looking for him? I can’t hear you!”

  “It’s FATE!” she hollered. I yanked my head away from my cell. “I said, ‘If you stop looking for him and he still turns up, it’s fate!’ ”

  “Heard you loud and clear that time,” I muttered.

  “Finally,” she grumbled. “All I’m saying is, don’t turn a blind nose to the smell of destiny. Or … something like that. If it’s meant to be, it will happen.” There was a pause as static crackled the line. “Yeesh, where are you anyway, a tool shed? I heard rumors that those exist outside the city limits.”

  “Funny.” I sighed. “No … I’m sitting on the floor in the upstairs bathroom. I can’t talk in Destry’s room. This is the only place I have any privacy.”

  “Really? In a two-story house? Do I need to take a train out there to kick somebody’s butt?”

  I laughed, not realizing until just then how much I missed my BFF’s sarcastic sense of humor. It felt so good to hear it. “Not yet, but you’re my in-case-of-emergency call button. I’ll keep you posted.” She laughed, and I smiled. “So … how are things back home?”

  “Oh, the usual. Nicole’s fighting with her ’rents and school is a complete drag.” There was crunching over the line, and I imagined her munching caramel popcorn, her favorite. “Boston’s just not the same without you.”

  “I’m not the same without it, either,” I said, then jumped at a loud knock on the bathroom door.

  “Come on, Lise!” It was the Voice of Chronic Irritation. “You’ve been in there for a half an hour,” Destry whined.

  “Gotta go, bye,” I whispered into the phone, then to Destry, called, “Be out in a sec!”

  “There better be hot water left,” Destry snapped, blowing past me as I opened the door.

  Brush it off, I told myself as I walked away. I’d decided that was going to be my new technique when dealing with Destry. The less I responded to her moodiness, the better. Maybe she was testing me, setting me up for situations where I’d get into trouble. Well, I wasn’t going to let her sabotage me anymore. No way.

  I straightened my shoulders, confident that I could beat Destry at her own game, grabbed my Red Sox hat from my bedpost, and went in search of Dad. He’d been working late at his law office most of this week, and I’d barely seen him except in passing in the hallway for a quick “good night” before bed. He’d never mentioned anything about Gail being upset with me, much to my relief. But now I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t work but disappointment with me that was making him distant.

  I found him in the soon-to-be nursery, frowning as he bent over a partially built crib. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he twisted a screwdriver.

  “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?” I peered into the lopsided crib, which teetered precariously as Dad fiddled with its railing.

  “Muito mal. Badly,” he mumbled. “I don’t remember your crib being this complicated.” The screwdriver slipped and he lurched forward, then hissed through gritted teeth. “Aff! My back can’t take much more of this.” He sighed.

  “So … how about a break?” I said brightly, seeing my perfect opportunity. “You remember what’s on TV tonight, right?” He’d mentioned it when he’d first picked me up from Mom’s two weeks ago, saying he couldn’t wait to watch it with me.

  “No, what?” he asked absently as he tossed his screwdriver into his tool bag.

  I felt a ripple of disappointment. How could he not remember? It was one of the things we looked forward to most each year. Last year for my birthday, Dad and I had flown down to Fort Myers to watch it in person. “The Sox have their spring training kick-off game tonight at JetBlue Park? Against the Minnesota Twins? I was going to turn it on downstairs.”

  “Oh, right.” Dad wiped his forehead. “Look, anjinho, I know I promised to watch the game with you, but I need to finish this crib, and I promised Gail that I’d help Destry study for her Algebra 2 test tomorrow. Her grade’s not great, and she’s been struggling—”

  “What about my grades?” Destry demanded, walking into the room. Her eyes glittered defensively.

  I gave her my friendliest smile. “Dad was just telling me that you have an Algebra exam tomorrow. Maybe I can help you study. I’m taking Algebra 2 this year, too.”

  “Of course you are,” Destry muttered. “Being the stellar student that you are and all.” She did not mean it as a compliment.

  Brush it off, I chanted, determined to prove to Dad that Destry and I were making headway with each other. I pushed on cheerfully, “We’re probably on the same unit, and—”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  I flinched at her clipped, harsh tone, and my determination wavered. I replayed my offer in my head, wondering how I’d misstepped. Maybe she was insulted because I was a year behind her in school but was taking the same level for math. But I hadn’t meant it to sound condescending. My face flushed. “Okay, no problem.” My voice was small and tight. I walked toward the door. “I’m going downstairs. The game is about to start.”

  Dad gave me a sad, tired wave. “We’ll catch the next game together. I promise.”

  I smiled and nodded, but my heart puddled miserably as I headed downstairs. For Dad’s sake, I wanted to make peace with Destry. But brushing off her biting remarks was getting harder with each passing day, especially with Dad so preoccupied. Dad wanted me to make room for Destry and Gail in my life, but … what if he couldn’t make room for me in his?

  “Romeo hasn’t forgotten his Frog Princess. Not even close.”

  Those were the first words out of Kyan’s mouth when I found him pacing in front of my locker on Monday morning. Viv was there, too, smiling and bouncing lightly on her tiptoes with excitement.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Viv held up a page from the MinuteMan and stabbed her finger into its center. My pulse jolted as I read the classified ad printed in big, bold caps:

  PAUPER PAINTER SEEKS HIS MISSING PRINCESS

  Looking for a Frog Princess, last sighted at Swoonful of Sugar on Valentine’s Day. Any information? Stop by the MinuteMan pressroom ASAP!

  I collapsed against my locker, trying to catch my breath. “Omigod.” A smile swept across my face. “That means … he has been looking for me.”

  Viv squealed, gripping my hand and jumping up and down. “Isn’t it just the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen?”

  The thrill of it all made my head spin. “So … what should I do?”

  “Well, you have your job interview at the MinuteMan during lunch period, right?” Kyan asked.

  I nodded.

  “So you go in for the interview, and while you’re there, you tell them you
’re the Frog Princess.”

  “You find out Romeo’s real name,” Viv said, picking up where Kyan left off, “and you two are reunited.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s simple.”

  The paper shook in my hand as I reread the words in the ad. Questions filled my head. What would I say when I told Romeo who I was? How would he react? Excitement, and then dread, coursed through me.

  I swallowed thickly. “What if he’s disappointed when he finds out it’s me? I mean, I was wearing a mask that night. What if he imagined I was drop-dead gorgeous? And then he sees me, and I’m …”

  “Perfect,” Viv said firmly. “Self-affirming statements are everything in modeling. You say it; you become it.”

  “Plain was more what I had in mind,” I quipped with a nervous laugh.

  “You’re the same girl he hung out with on Valentine’s Day,” Kyan said. “Besides, if looks were all he cared about, would he have fallen for a mystery girl wearing a frog mask in the first place?”

  “True enough.” I laughed, but I still felt a quaking uncertainty. The first bell rang, and I quickly grabbed my books from my locker and waved good-bye to Kyan and Viv.

  “See you in Biology,” Kyan said as he headed down the hallway toward his Spanish class.

  “Try not to obsess about it!” Viv called over her shoulder.

  Yeah … right.

  I spent the morning in a daze, vaguely nodding in my classes and pretending to take notes while every thought I had centered on my interview and the ad in my back pocket. Kyan elbowed me a dozen times during our Bio unit on photosynthesis, but then he gave up and let me go back to staring out the window at the frosty sky.

  “Man, you’re in bad shape,” Kyan said as we left class. “You’d better go to the pressroom now.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You better,” Kyan said. “You and your Romeo are single-handedly keeping my faith in romance alive.”

  “But you said you and Viv are—”