Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [76]
white bow. She is wearing a familiar red T-shirt and nothing else. She isn’t in much of a hurry. She’s taking a leisurely stroll near the water’s edge, but not so close that the tide washes away the scattershot trail of footprints that Jessica is definitely, if distractedly, following. She’s so taken with the brilliance of the blue sky and the even bluer sea that she hardly notices when she abruptly happens upon the bridal party that led her here. At the center of this group is the beautiful, beaming Bridget, who is elevated several feet above the crowd by means obscured under the whitest, widest, and most wildly overwrought wedding dress in the history of wedding dresses. Despite the farcical attire, Bridget is unabashedly happy. Woo-hoo! Nous nous marierons demain! Percy has scaled a stepladder to reply to his future wife, also in French. J’épouse un phénomène. Un beau phénomène. Back on the ground, surrounding the gown on all sides, are the bridesmaids and the matron, all as underdressed as Jessica. Wearing red Crocs and a Pineville High Class of 2002 T-shirt is Sara D’Abruzzi-Glazer, who has just finished bib-tucking layers of lace under the drooling chins of the infant twins screeching on her hips. Something new! Sara cries out before turning her attention to the nose-picking three-year-old at her ankle. Destiny! Use the hem as a hankie; blow the boogie-yuckies out of your nose! Jessica winces as the toddler more than happily complies with a liquidy honk. Jessica continues to orbit the gown and meets up with Hope, who is wearing a thin paint-splattered tank top. Hope is using a large swath of satin as a canvas for her latest masterpiece. Something blue! Hope cries out enthusiastically as she hurls another cerulean brush-blob of paint onto Bridget’s gown. You don’t think it’s too derivative, do you? Hope asks no one in particular. Too Mondrian meets Pollock? As Jessica progresses around the dress, she catches a fleeting glimpse of Manda backward-burrowing beneath the voluminous train. Curious to see what Manda is doing under there, Jessica uses two hands to lift up the weighty bugle-beaded fabric. She ducks her head under multiple crinolines and comes face-to-face not with Manda but with Len Levy, wearing the Mighties official fan club T-shirt. The acoustics are. Um. Excellent, he says. He strums his guitar and begins to sing. Something old … Something cold … Someone I used to hold … Jessica involuntarily sways to the music. She refused his band of gold … Jessica knows the chorus and can’t help but sing along. But my song will never mean as much … As the one … He once sang … For you, yes, you … She wants to watch the whole performance and congratulate Len on his success, but she’s being lulled away from his voice by an insistent tap on her shoulder. When Jessica turns around, she sees Manda kissing none other than Marcus Flutie in the sloppy, unselfconscious manner of the newly in lust. When the lascivious twosome finally break apart, Manda smiles at Jessica and says smugly, Something borrowed. Manda is wearing a red YOU. YES. YOU. T-shirt that is identical to the one Marcus is wearing, which makes it also identical to the one Jessica is wearing, or rather, was wearing, because when Jessica looks down at her body, she discovers that she isn’t wearing it or anything else.
I’m naked in paradise, Jessica says.
Without shame? Marcus asks.
And before she can answer, Marcus smiles and reaches for her hands.
seven
Marcus cannot believe she’s asleep. There’s no way she’s actually asleep. Maybe she is under physical duress this afternoon, maybe she is exhausted by the double whammy of influenza and menstruation, though he came to the conclusion very early on in their conversation that she isn’t suffering from either. Jessica has always been a conspicuous liar, and today’s feigned coughing and cramping were a typically unbelievable performance. Marcus is pretty much convinced that she is perfectly healthy and is just using those medical excuses as an added buffer against sexual activity. The need to resort to such dramatic