“Reeve will be riding pink elephants for at least eight hours.” Kat snorts. “Mary, as soon Reeve starts to get crazy, find one of your teachers and point Reeve out. I’ll do the same thing. Then they’ll already be watching when he peaks.”
“Senor Tremont is one of the chaperones,” Mary says. “We did this whole thing in class today about Spanish dancing.”
“Perfect,” I say. “I think he almost failed Reeve in Spanish II last year because he wrote his final paper on the Three Amigos movie. Tremont hates him.” I turn the vial over in my hands. “Um, I need to tell you guys something.”
“What? Are you okay, Lillia?” Mary asks. “Please don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
“It’s not that,” I say, and then bite down on my lip. I know I don’t have to tell them about Alex. It’s not like it makes any difference at this point. But I want to be honest with them. Like Mary said, there can’t be any secrets between us. They have a right to know. “I talked to Alex. And it looks like everything with my sister was a big misunderstanding.”
Mary’s eyes get big. “Wait. Seriously?”
“But I saw them in his car,” Kat says.
“Fine, but did you see him kissing my sister? Like, actually see them doing anything?”
Kat sucks in a breath. “No. I guess not.”
“Alex swears they never hooked up, and I believe him. Maybe it’s stupid, but I do.” I lower my eyes. “I’m really sorry.”
Kat waves off my apology. “We can’t dwell on the past. Now it’s our time, mine and Mary’s.”
Mary adds, “And it’s not like anything that bad happened to Alex. It was only a couple stupid jokes.” She turns to me. “You’re still in, right, Lillia?”
I squeeze the vial of liquid ecstasy tight in my hand. It’s true. We really only screwed with Alex a bit. It was nothing like what we’ve got planned for Reeve and Rennie. There’s no doubt in my mind that those two deserve everything that’s coming to them. “Definitely.”
“All right, beotches,” Kat says, running her hands through her hair. “I guess this is it. The grand finale.” She turns to Mary. “You ready?”
Mary nods. “I can’t wait.”
She doesn’t seem scared at all. Just excited. Same for Kat. I’m still scared, but I’m excited, too.
I feel closer to Kat and Mary than to any of my other friends. The three of us, we are a circle. We’re bound to each other now. I can feel it. I feel power, too. All the talking, the hard work, the pranks we’ve pulled, have brought us to right here, right now.
I open the front door, and Mary bounds happily down the steps. She goes and gets her bike from underneath one of the bushes.
Kat lingers for a second. “One thing,” she says to me. “When you put the E in Reeve’s drink . . . get it done as quickly as you can and don’t make a big deal about it. Hand him a drink and go dance.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Kat’s face suddenly changes. Her mouth gets tight, and I see her looking over my shoulder. I turn around, and there’s Nadia, in her nightshirt, holding a glass of water.
“What are you doing up?” I put my hands behind my back and turn to Kat, hoping she’ll have some kind of excuse. But she’s already gone. I look back at Nadia, my heart thudding in my chest.
“What was Kat DeBrassio doing here?” Nadia asks me, confused. She sticks her head out the door and looks down the driveway.
“She . . . she was hooking up with Alex this summer,” I say, squeezing the vial in the palm of my hand. “And she heard some weird rumor about you two having a sleepover one night. She came here to threaten you.”
Nadia’s face turns pale. “But we never—”
“I know. Don’t worry. I set her straight. I told her you would never do that. I just hope she believed me.”
Nadia shuffles back from the open door. “Lillia! What should I do?”
I close it fast, for drama. “Don’t say a word to anyone about her being here. Don’t give her a reason to come looking for you. I can protect you at school and at home, but I’m not with you 24/7. So just steer clear of her.” I give her a stern look. “’Kay?”
She nods. In a small voice she says, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
“You’re my sister,” I say, averting my eyes. “Of course I’m going to stick up for you.”
Impulsively Nadia runs up to me and gives me a tight hug and then scampers up the stairs. I lock the front door and let out a sigh of relief. Then I follow her up.
My homecoming dress is hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I set out my shoes and the clutch I’m borrowing from my mom. That’s where I put the vial of liquid ecstasy. In the little satin pocket where a lipstick is supposed to go.
Then I turn off my light and climb into bed. I hope it doesn’t take me long to fall asleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MARY
I’VE GOT DRESSES AND DRESSES PILED UP ON MY BED. Every single one I brought with me to Jar Island. I’ve tried on six, but none of them are right for tonight. I put on number seven, a lacy white dress with a crinoline skirt, but it looks babyish, like an oversize christening gown. I want to look beautiful tonight. Beautiful enough to have been homecoming queen myself, if I wasn’t the new girl, if I’d never had to move away.
As I sort through the pile, I wonder if maybe Aunt Bette has something I could borrow, or if it’s not too late to go to that fancy boutique on Third Street in White Haven. The dresses there cost, like, three hundred dollars, but I’m pretty sure my mom would agree that it’s worth the expense. Looking good, I mean. Not just good. Tonight I have to look perfect. Even though Ashlin is the one who’s going to be crowned homecoming queen, tonight is my night.
Then I find it, right at the bottom of the pile. A dress I don’t even remember buying. It’s a one-shoulder, long and floaty and shell pink. Layers and layers of chiffon. I check the tag. It’s from that fancy boutique.
And then I realize—Aunt Bette. I told her I was going to the dance. She must have gotten it for me as a surprise, hid it in my closet for me to find. I could cry!
I throw the white christening dress off and put this one on. It’s not a dress I would have ever picked out for myself. And as I slip it over my shoulders, I hope I can pull it off. It’s so stylish and unique, and definitely the most expensive piece of clothing I own. You can tell just by touching it, how nice the fabric is. It feels like spun cotton candy on my skin.
I walk slowly over to the mirror and have a look. I almost don’t recognize myself. It’s so nice. More than nice. Perfect.
Exactly how I want to look when Reeve meets his downfall tonight.
I run out of my room to go find Aunt Bette, to thank her and to show her how perfectly the dress fits me. She’s not in her bedroom, and she’s not downstairs, so I try her art studio. I haven’t been up there yet since I’ve been back. It’s her private workspace, and she’s been keeping the door closed, the way she used to when she didn’t want to be disturbed. Today her door is open, but just a crack. Maybe it’s unintentional. Maybe it just blew open or something.
I’m not sure if I should leave my hair down, or maybe wear it to the side? Aunt Bette would know. Anyway, I’m dying to thank her, give her a big hug.
“Aunt Bette?” I call out, running up the stairs.
The attic walls are lined with paintings. Stacks and stacks of studies. Sometimes Aunt Bette will paint the same scene fifty times before she gets it right.
The roof is pitched, and I have to walk down the center if I don’t want to bump my head. Aunt Bette’s easel is set open at the end of the room. She likes to paint with the window at her back. Next to the easel is the table where she sets out her paints and brushes. The tiny puddles of paint glisten, still wet, fresh. I see her legs, hear the sound of her brush dotting the canvas.
“Aunt Bette!”
She leans past the canvas and looks at me. I do a spin for her. “Mary, you look beautiful.”
??
?Thank you. I love this dress.”
Aunt Bette nods and smiles. “I’m so glad you’re happy now.”
“I am,” I say. “I really am.”
I go back down to my room and brush my hair. Then I open my jewelry box, take out my daisy pendant necklace, and put it on.
* * *
For my twelfth birthday party I invited my whole class to Jar Island, to my house. That’s how it was at Montessori. Everyone invited everyone. All the other years, I had the party on the mainland, because that’s where the other kids in my class lived. We’d have it at a bowling alley or the laser tag place, or a pizza parlor. But this year it had to be at my house, because of the theme.
I got the idea when I went to the card shop on Main Street to pick out invitations with my mom. I saw cards that were shaped like circus tents, with red and yellow stripes, and you had to peel back the flaps of the tent to see the party info.
I could already picture it. A carnival theme party, with a ring toss and a basketball free throw and fun foods like cotton candy and popcorn and maybe even funnel cakes. Our backyard was huge, so there’d be plenty of room. For a second I worried that a carnival theme was maybe too babyish for seventh grade, but then I reasoned that the boys would be excited about the games. They’d like showing off how many shots they could make in the free throw, and the girls would like the prizes. We ordered those on the Internet—stuffed animals and fruity lip balms for the girls, and baseball caps for the boys.
My dad cut holes in a piece of plywood, and then Aunt Bette and I painted an elephant and a giraffe and a monkey around them so people could stick their heads inside and take photos. We rented an old-time popcorn machine and a cotton candy spinner. Dad was going to grill hot dogs, and Mom would make her potato salad.
Even though everyone hated me now, if I threw a great party, it could change their minds about me.
I was sitting on the curb, staring down the street, waiting for my mom’s car to come back from the ferry with all the mainland kids she was picking up. They were supposed to come in on the three o’clock. But it was after four, which meant three boats had stopped at Jar Island already.
I had this terrible feeling in my stomach. No one was coming to my party. Not even Anne. I thought of my mom waiting at the docks, holding a sign we’d painted together. It said CIRCUS THIS WAY. All I knew was that I couldn’t be in the backyard with Aunt Bette and Dad anymore. They kept fiddling with the decorations and the games we’d already set up, to have something to do. And they offered a couple times for me to open the presents they’d bought me, as if that would make me feel better.
At around four thirty Reeve’s mom drove down our street. As soon as I saw him, I jumped up. I’d been casually bringing up my party to him for weeks, telling him about the kinds of games I planned to have, the prizes, the chocolate cake we were ordering from Milky Morning. I came up with the basketball free throw idea just for him, because I knew how much he liked basketball. I asked Dad to buy a hoop. He mounted it to the garage.
His mom parked the car. I could tell they were arguing. Eventually Reeve got out. He slammed the door really hard.
“Hey,” he said, sullenly. “Sorry I’m late. My mom had to drop my brothers off at a game first.”
“It’s okay!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house. I knew he didn’t want to be there. I knew his mom probably forced him, but I was so happy he came.
Aunt Bette and my dad were standing under the basketball hoop drinking coffee. As soon as they saw me and Reeve walking up the driveway, they sprang into action. Aunt Bette hit play on the stereo, and circus music filled the air. Dad grabbed the game tickets and tore off a fat strip for Reeve.
“So no one showed, huh?” Reeve wanted to know.
I didn’t answer. Instead I took Reeve up to the food table. “Are you hungry? We have hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn. You can have whatever you want.”
Reeve sighed. “I guess I’ll have a hot dog.”
I fixed him one. “Do you like ketchup or mustard?” I asked him.
“Ketchup.”
At about that time my mom came back. Alone. She was frowning, but when she saw Reeve, she brightened. “Reeve, I’m so glad you could make it,” she said.
“Umm, you know. I think I heard on the radio just now that it’s raining on the mainland. I bet everyone at school thought the party was canceled,” he said. His cheeks were burning up.
I looked at him gratefully. “That’s got to be it, Mom.” And then my eyes went to the box in his hand. I’d noticed it the second he’d come out of his mom’s car. A small white box tied with pink ribbon. It had to be for me.
“Here,” he said, shoving it toward me. “Happy Birthday.”
I started opening it right in front of him. I couldn’t wait. He watched me, peering over my shoulder instead of eating his hot dog.
He’d bought me a necklace, an enamel daisy with a yellow center and white petals. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I almost couldn’t get it on, because my hands were shaking so bad. Mom had to help me with the clasp.
He looked nervous. “Is it okay?”
“I love it,” I told him.
* * *
Despite everything that happened after, he was good to me that day. On that day, when I needed him the most, Reeve was my friend.
The necklace is shiny, not a bit of tarnish, even after all these years. As sad as it is, wearing it again makes me happy. As happy as I was when Reeve gave it to me on my twelfth birthday, once upon a time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LILLIA
RENNIE AND I ARE GETTING READY FOR THE DANCE AT my house. It’s our tradition. My mom always lets us take over her and my dad’s bedroom. When she helped design our house, she made sure to give herself a huge master bathroom and an attached dressing area with a three-way mirror. She also had the electrician set up a bunch of different lighting settings—daytime, office, night—so we can make sure our hair and makeup look perfect.
My mom has tons and tons of amazing clothes, Chanel and Dior and vintage Halston. Floor-length off-the-shoulder gowns, silky blouses that tie at the neck, tweed suits. Definitely not anything I’d ever wear to school, but my mom says she’s putting a padlock on the door once I turn twenty.
It’s stuffy in the room, with the blow-dryers and the curling irons heating up, so I go open the sliding glass door to the balcony. My mom and Ms. Holtz are on the patio below, having a glass of white wine, watching the sky turn pink as the sun sets over the water. Ms. Holtz lights up a cigarette. We don’t have any ashtrays, so my mom takes a tea light out of a glass candle holder she had sent from Italy, and lets Ms. Holtz use that. Ms. Holtz and my mom are definitely friendly, but I wouldn’t call them friends, exactly.
“Lillia!” Nadia calls out from the bathroom. “Can you please, please, please do my eyes?”
Nadia’s nervous because she has a date. A sophomore named James Melnic asked her. He’s short, but he seems nice enough. I asked Alex because he knows him from football, and he said he’s a good guy. I’m still going to keep my eye on them.
I tell Nadia to sit up on the counter. Then I do her eyes like mine with black eyeliner, but I make the line a bit thinner, since she’s only a freshman. I also use some lilac shadow on her, because her dress is a light, almost silvery purple. It looks like it’s made up of one piece of ribbon, wrapped tight around her like a bandage.
“What about lipstick?” Nadia says as I give her a bit of blush.
“Just do gloss,” I tell her. Nadia pouts. “Lipstick will be too much,” I say, annoyed
She looks at my face. “What about the one you’re wearing?”
I bought a pale pink one, special for my dress. “Too much,” I repeat.
“Lil’s right, Nadia,” Rennie calls out from the dressing room. “You don’t want to look like a hooker.”
“Fine,” Nadia sighs, not entirely convinced, and she disappears into her bedroom.
I take
a last look at my hair. I swept the front part across my forehead and twisted it into a low side bun. A few pieces feel loose, so I tuck in a couple more hair pins and spray everything down with hair spray. A touch of that pink lipstick, pink cheek, and black eyeliner. It’s a pale girly look, to compliment the starkness of my black dress, and to match the heels I bought in the palest shade of pink. I’ve been wearing them around the house in thick socks ever since I got them, in the hopes that I’ll break them in.
Rennie is fretting in front of the three-way mirror. She looks great in her sequined dress, which she paired with a sparkly cuff bracelet that my mom lent her, and a bright red lip. Her hair isn’t done, though. Rennie keeps piling it on top of her head, and then letting it go, so it falls around her shoulders.
“Ren, we’d better get going,” I say. Everyone is meeting at Ashlin’s house for pictures.
“Shit,” she says. “I can’t decide if I should do up or down.” She’s nervous and blotchy. She lifts her arms up and fans her armpits. “Help me, Lil. Which do you think Reeve will like best?”
“Come here.”
Rennie flops into one of my mom’s stuffed chairs. I stand behind her and curl the ends of her hair with the big barrel curling iron. I want to ask her about Reeve, what she did or didn’t do with him after I left Ash’s, but I don’t. I just pin back the sides. “Pretty.”
Rennie gets up and looks at herself in the mirror. I’m standing behind her, looking too. I think it looks great with the dress, that there’s a touch of softness to counteract her sparkle and glitz. For a second I’m afraid she doesn’t like what I’ve done. But then I realize she’s not even looking at herself. She’s looking at me, my reflection behind her.
“Lil?” she says, spinning around to face me.
“What?” I say nervously.
Rennie leans forward and hugs me tightly. Then she peels herself away, looks me in the face, and says, “I feel like my whole life would have been different if we hadn’t become friends.” Her eyes glitter with tears.