Lily by Any Other Name

By Julie C. Gardner

17-year-old Lily Anderson is ready to wrap herself in a big red bow and give Zach Hewitt the greatest gift in the history of Christmas: Her. But when she pulls a pair of booties from her stocking and learns her forty-year-old mother is pregnant, Lily finds herself adrift, unsure of Zach's commitment.

Lily hopes Zach will anchor her with promises of love. Unfortunately, his chaotic home-life makes him afraid of those three little words; and Maddie Franklin-in her Amazing Technicolor Dream Thong–makes sure Zach can have her whenever he wants.

With the help of her best friend Sarah, Lily plots to secure her place in Zach's heart. But after a series of awkward rejections, Lily loses faith in her dream boyfriend, in herself, even in Sarah.

That's when Lily turns to Adam Connolly, a transfer student whose lash-y eyes and comfortable silences make her question who it is she wants and what she needs. But Adam's support can't help her the day Lily discovers her parents' game-changing secret.

Faced with the truth, Lily must decide how to deal with her family's past, take hold of her own future, and accept that there are many names for love.

Don't bother making wishes; what you get is more than enough. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
• Release date: Sep 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781945910357

Book preview

Chapter One: In Which She Is Called Sticky, in a Good Way

Are you ready? I ask Zach. We’re sitting beside each other in the Conejo High library. He slips a fresh No. 2 pencil from under a Nike swoosh of blond hair.

As I’ll ever be, he says.

Remember. Slow and steady. I set the timer on my phone. No panicking. You’ve got this.

Thanks. He blinks at me once. Twice. His eyes are dolphin gray. Same as his baseball jersey. Hewitt. Number 7. Instead of saying You’re welcome like a normal person, I just stare at him. Seriously, he says. Thank you.

Snap out of it, Lily!

I mean, it’s not a problem, I say. "Besides the math problems. Those are real. I laugh at my own stupid joke. Here’s a math problem: what are the odds I can avoid saying something else lame for the next hour? Anyway. I slide the practice test to him. I got four weeks of volunteer credit and a bonus on my college apps."

Maybe, he says.

Definitely.

Either way, I’m glad I got you. You’re great at this.

Oh. My neck feels hot and I’m pretty sure the skin there is blotchy now. It must be the silver lining to being in so many study groups, I say. No social life, but killer tutoring skills. Apparently the odds are zero. About me not saying something lame, I mean. I laugh again and Zach shakes his head. He smells like coffee. And something else. Maybe cinnamon?

Stop sniffing him, Lil!

You know, when teachers explain stuff, he says, it doesn’t stick. But you. You’re... He pauses then, searching for the right word.

Sticky? I suggest.

Gah!

Sure. Zach smiles and I want to crawl under my chair. You’re sticky in a good way.

I’m about to die of embarrassment when the double doors open and two students walk in. He’s new to the school—Adam something—in three of my classes. She’s giggling, and way too happy for school. Must be a freshman. They approach our table and Adam Something picks a pencil up off the floor. It’s covered in teeth marks. The pencil, I mean.

This yours? he asks. His hair is black. He pushes it from his forehead.

I guess, I say.

Keep it. He gives me the pencil and grins. Let’s skip the DNA test.

Hey, man, says Zach. He does a head jerk of acknowledgment and Adam nods back. Then Adam notices the practice test.

SATs?

Yeah, Zach says. Been studying all month.

Good luck, man Adam says.

You know he’s Lucky Number 7, I say, pointing my chewed-up pencil at Zach’s jersey.

Why why why?

Of course. Adam’s grin spreads wider. Lucky. He returns his attention to Zach. Did you hear about the senior trip?

SnowFest. Yeah. In January.

You going?

Zach shrugs. Maybe.

Let me know, Adam says. I think I’m in. Should be a deep base by then. I hear the boarding’s awesome.

Maybe. Yeah. Probably.

Adam reaches down and taps the test. Seriously, man. Good luck. Then he and the giggler move to a table at the end of our row. While they walk, the girl leans into him. He keeps leaning away.

So I guess you two know each other, I say. The pencil eraser is near my lips now, rubbery and chemical. I set the pencil down.

For a long time. From tournament baseball. Connolly’s a good guy.

That’s it. Adam Connolly. From AP Gov. Economics. AP English. I can’t believe Sarah hasn’t called dibs yet. He’s totally her type. I mean, she does have Sam, but still. She’s Boy-Crush Sarah. She can’t help it.

Is he playing now? I ask. Baseball, I mean.

Nah. He’s here for the academics. He’s a real book guy. I glance at their table. Adam’s handing giggle-girl a copy of Romeo and Juliet. She looks less happy now. He must be her tutor. He turns his head and meets my gaze. Motions me over.

Who? Me?

Another whip of Adam’s hand. Yes. You.

Zach sees. Guess he needs you.

I—

It’s fine. I promise not to get too excited and start without you.

Ha! In the quiet room, my laugh is a seal-bark. My jeans start swishing. Swish-step-swish. What’s up? I ask when I reach their table.

The giggler checks me out. She glares at my head. So, you’re real smart, right?

Ummm. Is my bun too messy?

Adam says, We were hoping you could tell us about Ms. Harper’s tests. Felicia’s got her this year.

She’s the worst, says Felicia.

I’m the tutor, Adam says.

I’d figured. Felicia’s a freshman. Honors English.

Poor Ms. Harper.

"I mean, she is tough, I say. But she’s also fair. One of my favorite teachers. Her quote tests are decently hard, though. She’ll take off points if you just summarize. At this, Felicia chews her thumb. And Ms. Harper loves when students find personal relevance in the themes," I tell her.

Oh. Felicia’s mouth goes slack. Her eyes are empty. Like a fish.

I glance at Romeo and Juliet. It’s open to Act II. You’ve read the balcony scene? She nods. So ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ Everyone knows that’s Juliet talking.

Felicia says, Sure, but she doesn’t sound sure.

Ms. Harper won’t be impressed if you just memorize the speaker and when this happened in the play. She’ll want you to explain the significance.

Felicia nods. Like, roses smell good, but other flowers smell good, too?

I smile. At least she’s trying. What does identity mean to Juliet, though? She fell for a guy named Montague. And she’s a Capulet. The families hate each other. So, if Romeo had a different last name...

He’d still be a rose?

Adam shakes his head. Thanks for your help, Lily. I had no idea what Harper’s tests were like, but I think I can handle it now. Felicia giggles. I head back to Zach.

Swish-step-swish.

Adam knows my name.

Everything good over there? asks Zach.

Good. Yes. Good. I was just thinking.

His smile is crooked. I like that in a tutor. Especially mine.

It’s just...it must be really hard, you know? Transferring to a new school. Starting over senior year. Feeling like a stranger. Everyone staring at you.

Zach’s smile fades, and I worry I’ve opened a big old can of worms. Hard. Yeah. His voice is low, and his jaw goes stiff. Lots of things are hard.

Change of subject, Lily. STAT.

Can I ask you a question?

Zach tilts his head and his gray eyes tilt, too. My throat feels whatever’s more than dry.

Why wait so long? I ask. I mean, October’s kind of late to be taking the SATs for the first time.

It’s stupid, I know. He drops his chin. I don’t even need the scores for Conejo Community.

At this, my cheeks get officially hot. I shouldn’t have told him about my own college applications last week. CCC has a great reputation, I say.

But it’s no Stanford.

Ha! I force a smile. Even Stanford isn’t Stanford. Zach takes a beat. He’s got no clue what I’m talking about. Which makes sense because I don’t, either.

Anyway, he says, I felt like the only senior who wasn’t on the SAT bandwagon. And I already feel not-normal most of the time. So I just decided I won’t be the guy who doesn’t try. No regrets, you know?

I do. I think.

Even if it’s all for nothing.

But it’s not nothing, I say. It’s completely something.

Completely something. I like that. The smile is back. Anyway, you only live once.

You know, what’s funny? Oh, God. I can’t help myself. Everyone’s always saying YOLO, and putting YOLO on their profiles and getting YOLO tattoos. But the thing is, that sentence is an example of faulty modification. It should be ‘you live only once.’

Zach says nothing.

I mean, maybe it’s not actually funny, I say. More like interesting? Or maybe not.

YLOO?

Yes! Exactly.

That’s hard to say.

I nod. But can you imagine? All those tattoos. Wrong for life.

Tragedy, Zach says. His eyes are soft now. And did I mention gray? The most gray-ish gray in history? My heart speeds up and my tongue’s a tangle. Into my head comes Sarah’s voice: Lucky Number 7.

Really, Lil? Velvety smooth.

Anyway. I pick up my phone. The timer’s still set. Zach’s practice test is waiting. I guess this is it, I say. You ready?

No regrets.

And then Zach Hewitt kisses me.

Chapter Two: In Which She is Called the Death of the Party

I always wanted a brother or a sister. For as long as I can remember. I never asked for a Shetland pony or a Barbie Dream House, and I didn’t beg my parents to visit Disneyland, justthethreeofus. No, each birthday I’d sneak a fingerful of frosting, blow out my candles, and wish for one measly sibling. To love. To boss around. To share my room with, even. Because hope and sacrifice spring eternal when you’re stuck alone at the Little Tykes table.

Here’s the bad news: I never got a sibling. Measly or otherwise. Not in 17 years. Here’s the good news: since she moved next door, Sarah’s been the sister I never had. So when Zach suggested we double date to Homecoming, I said yes, against my better judgment. Then, on second thought, I hoped the plan wouldn’t be against my worst judgment, too.

I can see why Zach thought double dating was a great idea. Adam didn’t have anyone to ask, and Sarah’s boyfriend lives in Florida. Which is why Boy-Crush Sarah and I are in my bedroom now. Wearing extra mascara. Extra hairspray. Extra deodorant.

I might be extra nervous.

Zach told me they’d be here by five o’clock, then the four of us are planning to drive to the beach. Conejo Springs is a half hour from the ocean. Just one winding, canyon road away. We’ll take pictures on the sand before we go dancing at the Conejo High School gym. It’s my first official date with Zach. It should be great. It has to be great.

YLOO!

You know what? says Sarah from my bathroom. It’s an en suite, according to HGTV. I just realized who you look like since you darkened your hair. She pokes her head out and grins. Jennifer Lawrence.

Seriously? Wow.

Okay. Maybe you’re a little bit less pretty. But that’s still really good. Katniss is crazy-hot. Sarah returns to the mirror and fluffs her orange hair. The best I can hope for is a less-pretty Ginny Weasley.

But Ginny Weasley’s beautiful, I say.

Sarah laughs. You would think that. Harry Potter nerd.

Well, I hope Zach agrees with you, I tell her. About me being pretty, I mean. Not the Harry Potter part. I tug at my low-cut neckline. I’m not used to this much cleavage.

Are you kidding? Sarah turns and looks me up and down. You’re gorge. And not the kind of gorge that means you ate too much. I mean the kind of gorge like gorge-ous.

You think?

Absolutely. Plus those wedge heels are going to make your legs look killer. And that green dress? Is on fire. Like Emerald City. I mean it. Even the Great and Powerful Madison Franklin will be jealous.

Oof. Madison Franklin.

I’d been trying to forget her. With that raven hair and those Bambi eyes, she’s desired by everyone at CHS. They either want to be her or be with her. And rumor has it, Zach was. At Devon Thorpe’s Sweet Sixteen.

I hate that name, you know. My voice quivers. Please don’t say it out loud.

I’m sorry, Sarah says. I forgot. She puts a hand on my shoulder. But you need to remember that Maddie’s not Voldemort. And Zach didn’t ask her to Homecoming. He asked you.

Only after he aced his SATs.

"Yes. But he kissed you before he took the test. Sarah grins. Why not rub that in her face?"

I sit on my bed to fasten the straps on my sandals. Because that’s not who I am, for one thing. And for another, I don’t want to tempt her. If the Dark Lord-ess wants Zach, she can probably get him.

Sarah nods. I understand, she says.

But I wish she’d tell me I’m wrong. Instead, she slicks on a layer of hot pink lipstick that matches her uber-short skirt.

I wish I had time to make my own dress, she says. I’m getting pretty good at hand stitching.

Maybe for prom. That’s not until May.

Her eyes light up. "Maybe you and Zach and Adam and I will go together!"

I laugh. Let’s see if we have fun tonight first. Then we can start planning the wedding.

Speaking of fun. There’s a gleam in Sarah’s eye. How about bringing something special for a toast?

I narrow my eyes. Like water?

No. Like beer.

Sar.

Just a little. Nothing that’ll have us stumbling into the dance. I think my mom’s got a six pack in the back of the fridge. She never drinks it. I’ll just run home and—

Not a good idea.

Sarah smirks. Ladies and gentleman. My best friend Lily Anderson. Death of the Party.

That’s exactly my point, I say. Zach’s not into partying. At least not anymore.

Oh, right. Sarah cringes. Because of Devon Thorpe’s Sweet Sixteen?

God. Don’t bring that up! You’re the one who’s always saying not to listen to gossip. I meant what happened with Zach’s dad.

Oh, right. Sarah cringes again. That was pretty terrible. Then we’re both quiet for a moment, remembering last spring.

Zach Hewitt—Lucky Number 7—was pitching a no-hitter when his dad showed up, drunker than usual, in the fifth. He yelled at Zach. At the refs. The rest of the team. Parents on both sides. Then another dad tried to stop him, and Mr. Hewitt started throwing punches. He kept going until the police came. CHS had to forfeit the game. I heard the courts offered him rehab, but Mr. Hewitt disappeared.

Sarah flops down at my desk. Maybe Zach can be our DD, then.

But—

What if we just split one?

Four people and one beer?

You’re right. I should definitely get the whole six pack.

At this, I sigh. Sarah isn’t selfish. She really isn’t. She just doesn’t think beyond the moment.

Ever.

As it turns out, Zach and Adam show up fifteen minutes later, so there’s no time for Sarah to get any amount of beer. Zach’s waiting at the bottom of our stairs in a dolphin-gray suit—I should’ve known. He looks ridiculously handsome and he tells me I look pretty. But he’s prettier than I am. I mean, literally.

As for Adam, he looks nervous, but he still manages to compliment Sarah. She oohs and ahhs over him, laying it on thicker than her lipstick. This is par for the course for Sarah. She and Sam agree to a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. He lives three thousand miles away, and she lives here.

What else should she do?

Before we can head to the beach, our moms bring their cameras into the yard. Stand in front of the bougainvillea, says Mrs. Steinberg. It matches your dress, Sarah! Look here! Cheese!

Yikes, Sarah says under her breath. I told you we needed beer. The ordeal continues for what feels like forever, but is probably only ten minutes. We take pictures in every conceivable pose. Then we wave goodbye.

For the drive, Sarah takes the passenger seat of Adam’s Jeep Wrangler. Zach and I take the back.

Nice wheels, Sarah says. She raises the volume on the radio at the start of a song by the Breach Boys.

You like these guys? asks Adam.

I’m kind of obsessed, she says. You know Brady Breach went to CHS, right?

I’ve heard that. Once or twice.

While the two of them make more small talk, Zach and I are quiet. I feel a little car sick in the canyon. Once we arrive, though, things get better. Zach holds my hand and helps me from the Jeep. The air is salty. There’s sand in my toes. I can’t believe it. This is really happening.

I’m with Zach Hewitt.

YLOO!

We’re still waiting for the sun to reach the ocean when Sarah decides we need to climb rocks at the cove. Pictures at the Point, she says. It’ll be perfect!

But our shoes, I say.

Take them off, she tells me, already scrambling up the dune. Over her shoulder, she calls out, What would Katniss do?

Wait, I say. I don’t— But by now Sarah’s at the base of a boulder, and Adam Connolly’s not far behind her. His shoes are off. His pant legs are rolled. As she climbs, Sarah presses a hand to the bottom of her dress. At least her underwear’s not showing.

Yet.

I look at Zach. What do you think?

That Steinberg might be crazy. He runs a hand through his swooshy hair. But if you want to go for it, I’ve got you.

Oh. Zach Hewitt’s got me.

Behind us, a wave crashes and froths up the sand. I hope my corsage doesn’t get ruined, I say. Zach smiles. Oh, man.

I’m done.

I’m glad you like it, he says. I was worried the lily might be too...

It’s not, I say. I glance at my wrist. Zach’s still holding my hand. His palm is warm. We lace our fingers.

Hurry up! Sarah shouts. We can do a selfie with the sunset behind us.

Adam’s one rock beneath her. He turns and waves. You guys coming?

I unbuckle my sandals.

And that’s when Sarah falls.

––––––––

After waiting two, long hours in the ER—and listening to one hysterical phone call from Mrs. Steinberg—Zach and I finally leave Conejo Memorial to stop by the Homecoming dance. We sign in with our senior class advisors, Mr. Kominski and Ms. Womack. Mr. Ko looks like a Ken doll, except with messier hair. Ms. Wo cackles like a witch. A friendly one, but still.

Mr. Ko asks if we’ve been drinking. I’m glad we can tell him no. Have fun then, kids, he says. Remember. You only live once!

I consider telling him about YLOO, but Mrs. Wo aims a thumb at him. "Don’t do anything he wouldn’t do."

I paste on a smile. Okay.

Teachers. They’re so weird.

Inside the gym, music is throbbing. It smells like AXE spray, sugar, and sweat. Students line up at a cotton candy machine. Strobe lights blind me when they flash. We take a pass on the cotton candy, and Zach offers to get us a couple of water bottles. While I wait for him, Ms. Harper walks by with her husband. He’s tall. And handsome. Figures.

Ms. Harper’s the kind of pretty that’s just a fact. She doesn’t have to flaunt it. She’s a goddess with white-blond curls. But she’s so nice, no one hates her.

Except maybe Felicia.

Hi, Lily, she says. You look beautiful tonight.

So do you, I say. Duh.

Where’s Sarah?

Long story.

Ms. Harper laughs. With her, it always is.

Zach comes