Something Beautiful

By Marie Patlan

Cordelia and Declan have been best friends since they were three years old. By the time they hit middle school, Cordelia is already feeling the blackness in her life as depression takes hold. Their mutual attraction to each other leads to a serious high school relationship, one with their foundation of friendship at the forefront. Cordelia seems to have her mental health under control. All appears to be well, but appearances aren't everything.

When Declan starts to accept his own fluid sexuality, it sets something in motion that is both beautiful and tragic as they learn to love each other for who they are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098319908

Book preview

Author

Part 1—Float—Cordelia

Chapter 1—Now

October 2014

Fresh off of her book tour, I have here an advocate who is actively involved in fighting inequality in her daily life. I give you, Cordelia Quinn! The rally organizer steps aside, and I can finally see the crowd. I wave, and the rally organizer gives me a dazzling smile before she continues. "Cordelia Quinn is the bestselling author of The Yellow Wood, a coming-of-age story about a boy and a girl who are best friends as children but choose different paths as adults and then come together later in life. She is also an award-winning screenwriter and one of the most outspoken LGBTQ allies in publishing. Please join me in welcoming her to the podium!" The crowd breaks into thunderous applause that echoes through the cold air, and a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.

I can’t lie—I’m nervous. I’m not good at hiding my emotions, so I’m afraid that people might be able to tell. I hate crowds, and I hate public speaking. I’ve managed to avoid it ever since I spoke at high school graduation.

Hello, Topeka, I begin. My voice is shaking. God, I hope no one notices.

The crowd is rumbling below me, waiting for me to say something good. I’m not even sure I have anything good to say. I’m so bad at this. But I’ve learned that being honest is usually the best way to go, so I decide to veer away from my prepared speech and try for candor.

I’m going to admit something to you, I say, gripping the sides of the podium to keep my hands from trembling. I can’t be trusted to hold papers or they’ll be shaking so much that I can’t read them. I’m not a fan of public speaking, and I don’t usually speak at rallies like this one. But this issue… it’s really important to me. Those of you who have read my book know that. So, when my publicist asked me to come here and talk to you, I couldn’t really turn her down.

The crowd cheers, and I smile and take a deep breath. With each breath, I feel more at ease, more comfortable speaking up here in front of everyone. I close my eyes for a second, trying to center myself. I see my children’s faces, and my grin widens.

Honestly, I don’t have a lot to say, I continue, gaining confidence. I believe in equality. I believe in love. And I believe that the government should not tell us who we are allowed to love and marry. At this, all I can think about are the people I left at home—the people who I love, the person I married. I’m lucky. I’ve never had to fight for those rights. The politicians who are fighting against marriage equality are all active in their conservative churches—well, ladies and gentlemen, I find two issues with that. First, this country was founded on the separation of church and state—it’s in the First Amendment of the Constitution. What ever happened to that?

I’m on a roll now. My hands have stopped shaking and everything.

And second, marriage isn’t just about love. Anyone who has made that kind of commitment to someone can tell you that. There are legal rights that come with marriage that should be available to everyone, no matter who they love!

I can’t help it. I start looking for him. He’s here. I can feel it.

And then I see him, and my face breaks open into the giddy sort of smile I wish I could contain. I knew he’d come. We’ve been apart for weeks now while I’ve been on my book tour, and I’ve missed him so much. Almost as much as I’ve missed the kids. God, I wish they were here with me.

As I make eye contact with him, an idea strikes. I decide to roll with it. I’m very pleased to tell you that the person who inspired my book is with us tonight. I’d like to call him up here, so that you can meet the first man I ever loved—Declan MacLeod. Come up here, Dec!

People turn to look at him as he shakes his head and starts moving toward me. I can nearly feel my body vibrating. I can’t wait to be next to him again, to feel his warm hand in mine. My smile is so big it feels like it’s going to split my face in two.

I’m going to kill you, he whispers in my ear as he wraps his arms around me. I want him to hold me forever, to never let go of me, to keep me safe and warm wrapped in his strong arms. But we’re in front of all of these people. He has to let go.

No, you’re not, I murmur back. You’re better at this stuff than I am. Tell them something. Anything. He starts chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks, and I throw him a sharp look. I’ve been on him about that since high school, but he always slips back into the old habit when we’re apart.

He makes his way to the podium and clears his throat. Hello, he starts as he waves at the crowd. I had no idea that I was going to be speaking here tonight, so I apologize if what I say doesn’t make any sense. He takes a deep breath and glances back at me. As Cordelia mentioned, I’m Declan MacLeod. I grew up across the street from her in Hamden, Connecticut. Now, I spend most of my time in New York, performing on Broadway.

The crowd is hypnotized, and I don’t blame them. I’ve been told that, together, Dec and I are hypnotic. We have an energy. I’m not sure I agree—I think he’s the one who radiates energy and charisma, whose skin feels electrifying, no matter how many times I touch it.

As I watch him look out into the crowd, I know one thing—he’s everything. He’s my reason, my why. He’s it for me. I’d be nothing without him.

Chapter 2—Then

January 1995

What are you doing? I shriek. Declan’s eyes widen. We’re sitting at the counter in my kitchen, a fresh box of markers open between us. I have a Winnie the Pooh coloring book, and Declan has a brand-new Power Rangers one in front of him. He holds the yellow marker in his hand, the tip darkened with ink.

I’m coloring! What does it look like I’m doing? His voice rises to meet mine.

You’re using my yellow marker on the black ink! You’re wrecking it!

I grab the marker from him as angry tears form in my eyes. His eyes are still wide as he looks at me. I didn’t mean to, Cord. I was just coloring.

I hate you. Get out of my house. I grab my box of markers and stomp up the stairs.

I hate crying in front of Declan, but he’s so mean. Doesn’t he know that this is a new box of markers? I just got it special yesterday so I can color pictures for my dad’s new office at Yale. Doesn’t he know that I wanted to save the yellow since I need it for Winnie the Pooh?

He’s so stupid.

Whoa, Delia. What happened? My dad stops me at the top of the stairs, holding a basket of dirty laundry.

Declan wrecked my marker. I stomp past him and close my bedroom door. My dad continues down the stairs. I can hear his deep voice in the kitchen as he talks to Declan, who is apparently still here.

Declan never listens to me. I hate him. I told him to leave.

I pull out the latest Baby-sitters Club book from my backpack and curl up in the chair in my bedroom. Several minutes later, my dad pokes his head in.

Sweetheart, Declan wants to talk to you.

I don’t care. I look at my dad, who has a frown on his face.

Cordelia, be nice. He’s your best friend.

I have other friends. This is true, but none of my friends know me like Declan does. He’s been my best friend since we were three.

Cordelia Elizabeth, do you want to be grounded from the library?

Daaaaad.

I am letting Declan in.

Fine!

I glare at the door as my dad’s head disappears, and Declan walks in. He looks guilty and doesn’t meet my eyes.

I’m sorry, Cord, he says quietly. I didn’t mean to wreck your yellow marker.

You knew I had a new Winnie the Pooh coloring book, I spit out at him. I was going to color a picture for my dad’s office, ‘cause he doesn’t have any pictures on the walls yet. You did it on purpose!

No, I didn’t, he says, getting mad again. Aren’t we getting a little old for coloring books, anyways?

I frown. Whatever, Dec. Let’s just go outside. All of the Beanie Baby forts got buried when my dad shoveled today.

Okay. Race you downstairs! And he takes off like a bolt of lightning.

Declan! That’s not fair! I scream after him, running down the stairs.

Hey! Inside voices! my dad shouts as we both barrel into the kitchen.

Declan and I are going outside to play in the snow, I say.

Supper will be ready in an hour. Stay in the yard, my dad warns.

Okay! Declan and I chime together.

We both bundle up and grab our Beanie Babies, then skip outside into the frigid winter air. The snow on the ground is deep, and the snowbanks on either side of my driveway are high from shoveling all winter. We run out and each find a spot in the snow next to the bank, and start digging with our mittened hands.

Making Beanie Baby houses in the snow is our new favorite thing to do. I have an otter and Declan has a cat, and we play house with them for hours at a time. Together, we make up stories for our animals in far-off magical places. We can go anywhere, as long as we go together. It seems like no time has passed when my dad calls us for dinner.

Are you eating with us? I ask Declan as we climb out of the snowbank and knock the extra snow off our boots in the garage.

He looks across the street. My house is still dark. I don’t think my mom and Keeley are home from Imogen’s basketball game yet. And my dad is on nights again, so Finn is probably at a friend’s house. Declan has three siblings, so his parents are always running around, going to everyone’s activities. He spends a lot of time at my house because of it. But I mostly don’t mind.

Okay. I hope my dad made something good.

After peeling all of our layers off and hanging up the wet stuff, Declan and I sit at the table with my dad and little sister, Regan.

I have Rice-a-Roni and smoked sausage for you tonight, my dad says, bringing our plates to the table. We are just starting to eat when my mother walks in the door.

Hi, Mommy! Regan says excitedly. I roll my eyes. She’s only five, and doesn’t see yet that calling your mom mommy will get you teased at school.

Hi, girls. And Declan. How was your day?

Declan wrecked my yellow marker, I say, glaring at him again. He rolls his eyes at me.

I said I was sorry!

You didn’t mean it!

Hey! my dad shouts. Eat your supper.

He gets up to scoop some food onto a plate for my mom.

How was the night class, E? he asks, using his college nickname for her.

Oh, fine. I’m always amazed at the range of students we get. Some truly love Shakespeare and want to be there. Others don’t. How was the first day of your semester?

Eh. Sounds about the same as yours. Shakespeare brings out the best and worst in people.

He sets the food down in front of Mom’s seat at the kitchen table and kisses the top of her head. Sometimes, I like to just listen to my parents. They always have such interesting stories about their college students.

All five of us sit and start eating; our happy family, and Declan. Who is basically my brother anyway.

* * *

Look! It’s all icy, Declan says excitedly, pointing at a path through the trees that line the property at school. I bet we could slide all the way down to the bottom.

But the bottom is the neighbor’s yard, I say, pulling down my fleece neck warmer so he can hear me. We’re not supposed to go into the neighbor’s yard.

No one will know, he says, smiling. We play over here all the time. It will be fun.

Okay. He sits at the top of the hill and pushes off against a tree. I watch with wide eyes as he slides along the path, almost wiping out around a curve but saving himself just in time. He rolls off the path at the bottom, laughing.

Come on, Cord! It’s so fun!

I smile. Declan always finds the coolest things to do. Pushing off against the same tree, I suddenly hear the wind whistling in my ears and I squeal with delight. I’m sure to lean into the turn where Declan almost hit the tree, and end up tumbling off the path next to him at the bottom of the hill.

I told you! he says, his cheeks red from the cold. But he has a huge smile on his face.

That was so fast!

Again?

Yeah!

I’m not sure how many times we climb that hill and slide back down, but it never stops being fun. Declan is pushing off for what seems like the hundredth time when I hear the sound of the whistle cutting through the cold air, ending recess for the day.

Declan! I call down the hill. The whistle blew!

Okay, but you need to go one last time! he shouts back.

I smile and push off the tree for the last time that day. I close my eyes, enjoying the wind whipping my face, feeling a little too comfortable with the fact that I’ve been down this hill a ton of times now.

But I forgot about the turn.

I don’t even realize what’s happening at first. I shoot off the trail and open my eyes in a panic. I barely have time to register the big tree in front of me before I hit it.

Cord! I hear Declan screech.

I’m crying and screaming and tears are running down my face. By the time Declan gets to me, I’ve already rolled over and sat up.

Cord, you’re bleeding! he shrieks.

My arm hurts, Dec, I wail. I try to move it and cry out in pain. Owww, Declan, it hurts!

Stay here, I’ll be right back, he says. I watch him scamper up the hill and disappear into the clearing at the top, where our elementary school sits. The tears keep falling, and when I reach up to wipe them away, I see blood mixed with them. This makes me sob even harder, louder.

Where is she? I hear the voice of one of the playground supervisors coming toward me.

She’s down there! About halfway down the hill, Declan’s panicked voice responds.

I cry and watch as the adult picks her way through the trees toward me. She looks too big to be in our secret play space.

Cordelia, honey, are you all right? she asks as she reaches me.

My arm h-h-hurts, I stutter.

And it looks like you scraped up your forehead pretty good. Come on, honey, can you walk?

I nod, and she helps me up with my arm that doesn’t hurt. I climb the hill pretty easily, after doing so many times already that day, and she follows close behind.

When I reach the top of the hill, I see Declan sitting in the snow with his face buried in his mittens. He looks up when I walk past him. He’s been crying, too.

Come on, you two. Let’s get you both inside.

She leads us to the principal’s office and then calls my parents. Both the secretary and the nurse try to get Declan to go back to class, but he refuses.

No! he says for the tenth time. It’s my fault. I have to stay with Cord.

After a while, everyone decides to leave the two of us alone with the school nurse. She cleans the scrape on my forehead in silence, then carefully helps me out of my mittens and parka. I whimper as she pulls the sleeve off over my injured arm, and Declan takes my other hand in his.

Oh, sweetheart, it looks like it might be broken, she says, carefully examining my arm. It’s an angry purple color and has swollen to twice its normal size since I ran into the tree.

I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, okay? To make sure you didn’t hurt your head.

Okay, I answer, not sure why she’s worried about a little scrape when my arm looks like that.

How old are you?

Nine, I respond quickly. Almost ten.

Where do you live?

In Hamden, Connecticut. Across the street from Declan.

What are your parents’ names?

Sam and Erika.

What is your sister’s name?

Regan.

She nods. You seem to be okay. I’m going to see when your parents are getting here. And she leaves us in her office while she goes outside to talk to the secretary.

As soon as she leaves, Declan starts crying again. I’m sorry, Cord, he whispers.

I watch him. I don’t know why he’s crying. I’m the one who ran into the tree.

It’s okay, Dec. It was fun. It’s the best hill I’ve slided down.

He looks at me, his watery green eyes causing tears to form in my own again.

Stop crying, I say, pulling my hand from his and wiping my nose on my sleeve.

The nurse’s office door bursts open and my mom barges in, her long black trench coat open and flying behind her.

Cordelia! Oh, my gosh, look at you! Come on, sweetie, let’s get you to the doctor. She pushes me out the door, but I look back