Pearls of wisdom by Ms. Hove:
It is said that you can only be in love as much as you allow yourself to be. For in order to be intimate, you must have the courage to be your true self in the company of your mate. Finding love means taking risks! Play it safe and you’ll never know what love truly means.
“It’s nothing to be nervous about. They’re completely normal people.”
Vivien was on the phone with Declan late Monday night. He was doing his best to convince her that having dinner with his parents would be fun.
“I know they’re normal. I’m not worried about that. What if they don’t like me?”
“Why? What are you going to do, chew with your mouth open? Fart at the table?”
“Stop! You’re horrible! Wouldn’t you feel the same meeting my mother for the first time?”
“Lighten up. I’m just trying to get it into your head that it’s no big deal.”
“What night are you thinking of?”
“Thursday. We can eat and then take off ‘cause we’ll have the Future Leaders meeting as an excuse. You definitely don’t want to get cornered by my dad and one of his long, boring stories. Believe me, he can turn just about anything into a long, boring story.”
“Aw. He sounds sweet. OK. Thursday it is.”
“I’ll pick you up at five.”
“Great.” She paused, frowning, as the memory of Riley’s party flashed through her mind. “Say, have you talked to Nathan lately?”
“Sure, why?”
“Oh.” She couldn’t do it. The incident was too upsetting. “No reason, really.”
“Since when are you interested in Nathan?”
She swallowed. “I’m not. I mean, it’s not him I’m interested in. I was just thinking…do you think he really likes Lauren or…?”
“Or what?”
“I’m worried. Lauren’s my friend and I’m afraid she might get hurt. I think she’s liked Nathan for a long time. She was so excited to be with him on Halloween, you know? I wish I could find out what really happened.” She’d meant to say that last part to herself.
Luckily, Declan failed to pick up on it. “To be honest, I don’t ask. I try to make it a habit to stay out of Nathan’s private life. It’s always…uh, complicated.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t hide her disappointment.
“What I’m saying is, in general, I prefer not to know. But I could fish around a little. If it’s bothering you that much.”
“Really? What would you say? Do guys usually talk about stuff like that?”
“Sure. We talk. Of course, we don’t share everything,” he clarified.
“But you would tell each other if you liked someone, right?”
“Mostly.”
“Hmmm.” She contemplated this. “What’s something you wouldn’t share?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “Let’s see…I wouldn’t tell my buddies things that you and I discussed in private. Like…personal things.”
“That’s good. Me neither. Would you tell your friends…if you’d kissed me or not?”
“I suppose. If the subject came up. But not the intimate details of the kiss, of course. And I definitely wouldn’t tell them what you looked like naked.”
This caused an indignant squeal. “You’ve never seen me naked!”
“Oh. Right.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so,” he said, then changed the subject. “Hey, you want a ride to school tomorrow?”
“But it’s only a few blocks. And you live in the opposite direction.”
“So? I don’t mind. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”
“Seven thirty?”
“Something wrong with that?”
She liked to arrive extra early, before the halls were crowded and impossible to move through. “I don’t like to be late.”
“How’s that late? Last time I checked, school started at seven thirty-five.”
“I usually get there at seven fifteen.”
“OK. There’s a huge difference between being late and being twenty minutes early. Is the school even open then?”
“Of course it’s open! Just be here by seven twenty. Please. No later or I’ll start to get anxious. I can’t help it.”
“Fine. You are an odd one,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “See you in the morning.”
As she drifted off to sleep that night, all she could think of was Declan. It must be true; her luck had changed for real. But this meant she’d have to be extra careful not to mess things up. No walking under ladders. No black cat sightings. And heaven forbid, no broken mirrors. She’d knock on wood every chance she got—maybe even lock up the salt shaker if that’s what it took. “Just let me have this,” she whispered out loud. If her God was listening, a little bargaining couldn’t hurt. “I promise, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”
“Good morning,” Declan said cheerfully as she opened the car door. “Am I punctual or what?”
Sliding in, she smiled back, kicking her overstuffed backpack under her feet. “You are.”
“Fiona will get you there with plenty of time to spare. So you can do…whatever it is you do before first hour.”
“Who’s Fiona?”
He patted the dashboard. “My car. It’s a long story that involves my great uncle’s childhood sweetheart back in Ireland.”
“Hmm. I won’t ask,” she told him. “Anyway, I don’t do anything special. I just like to be on time. And I like to have time to be on time, if you know what I mean.”
“Not sure I do, but whatever,” he replied. “So…I talked to Nathan last night.” He gave her a meaningful glance.
“You did? What did he say?”
“He said that Lauren was—and I quote—a shitload of fun on Halloween.”
She frowned. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
She waited a full minute before asking, “So what does that mean, in guy-speak?”
Declan shrugged. “It means they’re not seeing each other. Exclusively.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” This was not good news. She wondered if Lauren knew this already. That she’d just been used. She wanted to shout, “What an asshole!” But Declan was his friend. How was it that Nathan was constantly getting away with stuff like this? She fantasized about an angry mob of jilted girls lined up in front of his house, ready to tear him apart if he so much as peered out the window.
Declan eyed her carefully as he pulled into the school parking lot. “Are you gonna say something?”
She looked undecided. “I don’t know. Should I?”
“It’s not my call. Chances are she knows already. Nathan’s pretty transparent.”
“That’s a creative word for him. I can think of some others.”
“Look. I’m sorry. I hope Lauren’s not too bummed out.”
“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything. You’re nothing like him.”
“I’m glad you know that now. Just think, if we hadn’t kept running into each other, you’d still be hating me right now. How sad.”
She flinched. “Hate is a strong word. I don’t think I ever hated you.”
“Hey, those were pretty much your words. I know how to read between the lines.”
She shrugged, “I must’ve been really stupid, then.” She tried to get him to smile by making a goofy face. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Declan played injured. “I don’t know. It really hurt.” He pulled into a semi-secluded parking spot and cut the engine.
She was about to reply when Declan leaned toward her, reaching out to fold his fingers around the back of her neck. “But I might get over it. One day.” He pulled her to his mouth and their lips parted. Timidly, she darted her tongue inside, tasting his mint toothpaste. Eventually they separated and each took a moment to restore their breathing to its natural rhythm.
“You’d better get going,” he said. “You don’t like to be late, remember?”
/> “Honestly I’m having trouble remembering anything at the moment,” she admitted. “You’re totally distracting.”
He looked genuinely pleased by this.
“OK…here it goes.” She opened the door and got out, hoisting her backpack over one shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah. I’ve a good five minutes left before I need to go into that tomb of misery. I’m waiting out here.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Suit yourself. See you at lunch?”
He nodded and she hurried across the parking lot to the front doors.
As it turned out, Vivien had been correct in calling Declan a distraction. He was that and more: an interruption of her normal thought processes, a commotion in her brain, a disruption of her focus.
All morning long, her mind snuck off and returned to their kiss. To his incredible eyes that could change from soft to smoldering in an instant. To his smell, a thing she’d spent a good deal of time trying to classify: it began with a cavernous and earthy top note, like soggy moss on a forest floor, then a synthetic and spicy middle note, like imitation leather and a plate of Caribbean food, and finally a bottom note of freesia, thanks to Mrs. Mieres’ selection of fabric softener.
Her class subjects had no chance competing with him. Her catatonic state appeared to irritate her creative writing teacher to the point where he felt compelled to say, “Miss Allen! Do you have someplace else you need to be at this time?” She lowered her eyes, shaking her head in embarrassment. Declan was not going to be good for her GPA.
At eleven twenty-five she rushed to her locker to grab her lunch and was about to take off for the cafeteria when Miranda and Lauren intercepted her.
“There you are!” Miranda said, as if she had been hunting her down for weeks. “I was looking for you this morning but you weren’t at your locker.” She waited, tapping her foot impatiently.
“I was late,” Vivien replied, eyes darting repeatedly in the direction of the cafeteria. She wanted to keep moving. Lunch was only forty minutes long. She wanted to spend every second of it with Declan.
Miranda wasn’t buying it. “You’re never late.”
“What’s with the grand inquisition?” she snapped. “I’m in a hurry.” She took a few steps away from her friends.
Lauren was watching her with an inscrutable expression, causing her to wonder if Lauren knew she’d seen what went on in that bedroom. Fighting the urge to pull her aside and find out the details, she continued to back away. “I have to meet someone in the cafeteria,” she explained. “I’ll catch you guys later?” She turned away just in time to see her friends exchange a shrewd look.
She and Declan sat together at a table far off in the corner. She chose to sit with her back to the chaos of the noisy room. Plus she didn’t want to risk any eye contact with Miranda. Her constant meddling was getting on her nerves.
Normally the paltry scraps in her brown bag lunch would have been a source of grumbling. But today she wasn’t even hungry. The mere act of looking at Declan was enough to fill her body with energy. In fact, she found it rather difficult to restrain herself from reaching out and touching him at every opportunity.
Their chatter was lighthearted, a bit mindless, but this was of no consequence. They were together.
“So, are your friends going to give you a hard time for ditching them?” She tipped her head in the direction of the lacrosse players.
“Are yours?”
“Most definitely. Miranda already tried to corner me at my locker.”
“She seems kinda nosey.”
“Oh, she is.”
“Girls. You all love to gossip.”
“That’s such a sexist comment. I thought you knew better.”
He laughed. “I just wanted to see how you’d react. I had you pegged for a feminist the moment I first saw you.” On a more serious note, he added, “Truth is, there’re plenty of guys who do it, too.”
“There are?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’m not one of them, though.”
“Yeah. Sometimes people do it specifically to be mean. To hurt someone. It’s pathetic, really.” She glanced over at her friend. “Miranda’s not mean. She just loves to talk. She loves to know what’s going on at all times. Being left out is the very worst thing for her.” Despite her annoyance with Miranda lately, she found herself making excuses for her. No matter what, she was still a close friend.
The conversation meandered, and somehow they got on the subject of their favorite breed of dog. Her family had never owned a dog, but she knew when she was living on her own, she was going to have a German shepherd. Everything about the breed appealed to her: the perky, pointed ears, the expressive brown eyes, the short (no mess) fur, and the superior intelligence. The German shepherd was a true watch dog, not some fluffy mop of a dog. Like Lauren’s. Sparky, Lauren’s Lhasa Apso mix, was constantly worming his way underfoot and then yelping when stepped on. He also had giant puke-colored eye goobers that dripped down his face and smelled—so gross!
Declan was in agreement that large-breed dogs were better. “It’s good to know you’re not the kind of chick who wants a dog for her purse. Those miniature things that tremble? And get carted around in those queer little outfits? The worst! In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re not dogs at all.”
“Ugh! You actually thought I’d be into that? What kind of girl do you think I am?”
He chuckled. “We’ve got a chocolate Lab,” he told her. “She’s an old lady now; she’s ten. Guess what her name is?”
“Brownie?”
“Close. Cocoa. Original, huh? Patrick got to name her—he’d just broken his collarbone falling off his bike, so my parents were in the process of spoiling him rotten.”
“What would you have picked?”
“Cleopatra,” he said, straight-faced. “Cleo for short, of course.”
“How’d you come up with that?”
“She was very queen-like, even as a puppy. If you tried to get her to fetch when she wasn’t in the mood, she had this look. Killer.”
“Well, now you can use that name for your next dog. I like it.” She smiled at him.
The bell rang for fourth period and they both sighed simultaneously, then laughed.
“The guys and I are going to the Y after school to work out, so I won’t be able to take you home,” he told her.
“That’s OK. It’s really not necessary for you to drive me to and from school every day.”
He grabbed her hand as they began to head out. “I know it’s not necessary; I want to do it. I like you in my car. You make it much prettier than it normally is.”
They kept walking, hand in hand, until they reached the foot of the stairs. “I’m going this way,” he said. Suddenly his expression changed and he flicked his chin in a sideways direction. “Incoming,” he warned as he backed onto the first step. “I’ll talk to you later.”
She nodded and followed his gaze. Pushing her way toward her at an alarming speed was Miranda. It seemed unlikely Vivien could make any kind of escape.
“Vivs! Wait up!” Miranda fell in stride alongside her, breathless. “And how was lu-un-ch?”
“Fine.”
“So you guys are really a thing, huh?”
She contemplated being a “thing” with Declan. “Yep.”
“Wow!” Miranda exploded. “I am soooo happy for you. This is like, your first real boyfriend!”
Did she have to say that out loud? “I know.”
“I heard he took you to a college party on Halloween. What was that like?”
She saw her classroom door up ahead. “Um. It was fun.” She tried to break away. “I can’t get into it right now. I’ll call you…?”
Miranda looked crushed.
“I promise.”
With an exaggerated pout, Miranda agreed and headed off to class.
Settling down into her seat, Vivien took a deep breath. This was French. Her favorite class. With her favorite teacher. She’d
better try harder to pay attention.
Christophe sat at his desk. He was wearing light blue—one of his best colors, she decided. In addition, he wore a tie today, making him look extra sharp.
Midway through class, an announcement interrupted the discussion of Victor Hugo’s “Demain des l’aube.” The head principal, Mr. Willis, cleared his throat several times before beginning his hazardous weather alert: If the students would calmly look out their classroom windows, they would see that it had begun to snow. Dramatic pause. This meant that extreme caution was to be used at the end of sixth hour, when the majority of students would be exiting the parking lot. Second dramatic pause, followed by a short cough. Reckless behaviors would not be tolerated, and it would behoove the student body to remember that driving was a privilege and not a right. Third dramatic pause. Scuffling and muffled voices. Chronic offenders, he went on to say, would be subject to rigorous consequences.
She rolled her eyes. It seemed that Mr. Willis was incapable of making an announcement without the use of his two favorite words: chronic and rigorous. Students at Eastbrook were routinely accused of being chronically tardy or chronically disrespectful—apparently all negative behaviors fell under the label of chronic. Just about everything else (with the exception of the students, of course) was rigorous: the teaching staff, the class subjects, the homework, the athletic program—she had once even heard him refer to the building itself as rigorous.
Snow? Really? It was only November. As an afterthought she glanced down at her choice of footwear: ballet flats, no socks. Now she truly was disappointed Declan wouldn’t be available to give her a ride home. Suddenly her thoughts shifted to Lauren, who drove to school every day in her brand-new Range Rover HSE—one of the many gifts she’d received for her sixteenth birthday over the summer. An excellent idea. She would text Lauren, asking for a ride. As a double bonus, this would be the perfect chance to talk in private.
M. Laval was doing his best to return the students’ attention to the front of the room. “Pardon me, but I find it impossible to believe you’ve never seen snow before. Shall we finish this up before the bell rings?”
While she was packing up after class, Christophe caught her eye and motioned for her to come see him on the way out. When she arrived at his desk, he was balanced on one foot as he bent down to retrieve something from his briefcase. “For you. A copy of the opera,” he explained, sliding a folder in her direction. “I was hoping you might read it before your next visit.”
“Oh. Of course. Good idea.” As she reached for the folder, his fingers grazed hers in what she was sure was a deliberate gesture.
“It’s not long,” he told her. “You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.” Tucking the folder under her arm, she glanced at the clock over the door, calculating how much time she had left to spare. “Actually, I wanted to—” As her gaze dropped, she caught sight of a familiar figure passing by. He stopped and took an exaggerated step backward, and before she knew it, Declan was strolling into the classroom, a pressing look on his face.
“Hey, I was just looking for you, but I didn’t know what class you had.” His eyes darted from Vivien to M. Laval and back to Vivien. He paused, then said in explanation, “It’s snowing.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but had all at once lost the ability to speak, the words sticking in the back of her throat like a wad of cotton balls.
“And,” he went on, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “I know I told you before I couldn’t drive you home. But then I was thinking about you and that wimpy thing you call a jacket, and with the snow and all, I felt bad.” He paused, his gaze again flickering between student and teacher. “I want to take you home. The guys can wait.”
As Declan spoke, she became increasingly aware of the folder tucked under her arm. It seemed to take on a new meaning altogether, like evidence in a trial, evidence that would not come out in her favor. And she had the sudden impulse to get rid of it, or least hide it from Declan’s view. She was certain he was going to ask what is was and then she’d have no alternative but to explain its contents.
“No,” she said, turning her head and directing her response to Christophe rather than the person who’d actually made the offer. “You’re being silly. I don’t need a ride.”
Christophe, in turn, was studying the pair with a curious expression, as if, behind his eyes, a frenetic sort of calculation was going on. She could almost hear the whizzing, ticking, and sputtering as random thoughts were reorganized into one ultimate conclusion. Upon reaching this conclusion, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“What are you talking about?” Declan said, his voice too loud for Vivien’s ears. “You’re going to walk home in a blizzard?”
Her heart was pounding. She so badly wanted to step back, to remove herself physically from the discomfort of this awkward trio. And yet, her legs felt unbelievably heavy, her feet fused to the floor, and she was forced to stay and endure each passing second in increasing agony. Outside it was indeed snowing. So hard she could see nothing but white. Perhaps it was her imagination but she thought she heard thunder as well. Turning to Declan she said, “I’d hardly call this a blizzard.”
He cocked his head in confusion, a frown passing across his face.
A second rumble of thunder rolled through the building, causing her to reach out and grasp the edge of Christophe’s desk in order to steady herself, for now she was feeling quite ill. “Anyway,” she went on, her voice thin and breathless, “I don’t have to walk after all. Lauren’s taking me.”
The bell rang for fifth hour, slightly off key, as if wanting to impart its own jarring voice to the discomfort of the moment. The three figures stood on, unmoving, valiant competitors in a merciless game of chicken.
“Well, then,” Christophe said at last, a bright almost manic look claimed his eyes. “It seems everything’s all set now, doesn’t it? You’d best be on your way,…?”
“Declan,” Declan answered.
“Day-clahn,” Christophe repeated, converting his name into French. “You’re late.”
Declan regarded him carefully, his jaw muscles jumping. “No. I’m a peer counselor this hour. No one takes attendance.”
Christophe merely glared.
“Well…I should get going,” Vivien said, attempting to slip the folder between her books and binder as she spoke, but her hands trembled so that she nearly dropped it. Several times. Hidden at last, she forced a smile, saying, “You know Ms. Goldberg. She totally flips out when people are late.”
With reluctance, Declan broke off the stare-down and reached for her hand possessively. “I’ll walk you.”
“Great! OK! Great!” With his steadfast grasp on her fingers, she felt free at last to move. As they passed through the door, she glanced back briefly and tried to smile, but M. Laval turned coldly away, giving her nothing in return.
Several minutes of silence went by before Declan posed the question she knew was coming: “That’s your French teacher? What’s up with the guy? He seems…I don’t know…different.”
“Yes,” she replied, looking straight ahead, walking at a brisk pace. She felt an enormous sense of relief at getting out of there and wanted nothing more than to forget the whole incident altogether.
But Declan kept on. “Is he, like, really French or something?”
“Yes.”
A minute passed before he said, “That explains it.”
She slowed, glancing sideways. “Explains what?”
“Why he comes off like a huge A-hole.”
The remark made her flinch, but she said nothing in reply.
They walked a few more paces before he set in again. “What’s the crutch all about?”
She inhaled a calming breath. “An accident. He told me his car was hit head-on when the oncoming driver fell asleep.” She paused, then added, “It’s horrible, really.”
Declan digested this information. He frowned. “Told you?” r />
She glanced at him quickly. “The class. He told the class.”
They walked on in silence. “All right. Sorry…I guess it’s just…I don’t like the French.”
She now came to a full stop. “Wait. You’re telling me you dislike all French people?”
He stood his ground. “I have to say I do.”
“That makes no sense. For what reason?”
“I think they’ve got a chip on their shoulders, after being thoroughly humiliated by the Germans in World War II. And I don’t like their accent.”
She blinked. “You’re serious.”
“Completely.”
She turned away and resumed her quick pace. “Crap! I’m going to be so late!”
He caught up with her, grasping her arm and twisting her to face him. “Vivien. Who cares? One tardy mark’s hardly going to screw up your spotless attendance record.”
He was right. Why was she acting this way? She let out a long sigh and relaxed into his grip. “Maybe I am overreacting.”
Declan studied her carefully. “What’s going on with you? You’re acting all weird.”
She looked away. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“And you don’t need a ride? You’re going with Lauren?”
“Yes. I asked her on purpose. You know, so we could talk.”
He nodded, disappointment visible on his face. “I guess you don’t need me, then.”
She took his hand in hers. “Declan…” She smiled and lightly traced his knuckles with her finger. “Thanks. It was sweet of you to come looking for me. You…you totally surprised me.”
He grinned back at her. “Anytime. Like I said, I like you in my car. Way better than those fools I drive around all day.”
She pulled away. “I really have to go now. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” He raised his arm and gave her a mock salute before he turned and headed in the opposite direction.
The remainder of the day passed quickly. It was a struggle for the teachers to hold the students’ attention as they seemed unusually keyed up by the weather.
After seventh hour, Vivien grabbed her books from her locker and hurried down to the first floor to meet Lauren. She caught sight of her by the main entrance, talking to Nathan. Slowing her pace, she watched, attempting to read Lauren’s facial expressions in order to decipher the mood of the conversation. Lauren wasn’t doing her usual giggle/hair flip/chest-out move. This must mean they were having a more serious discussion.
A wide array of posters lined the walls of the front lobby and she read them as she meandered along, killing time. She noticed that the next performance by the theater guild was going to be West Side Story. Maybe she and Declan could go see it. Wasn’t the plot just a modern version of Romeo and Juliet? Passion and romance. The perfect date.
Eyeing the entrance again, she saw Lauren was alone now. She went to join her, pretending as if she’d just arrived.
Outside, the snow was still flying in a horizontal direction. All around them students were whooping, running and sliding, flinging snowballs at one another. Some of the cars were already spinning their tires and several horns blared as the train of vehicles crept toward the exit.
Lauren’s Range Rover was parked at the far end of the parking lot. By the time they reached the car, Vivien’s feet were soaking wet and bright pink.
“I hate winter,” Lauren announced as she cranked up the heat.
“Normally I kind of like it, but I’m not ready for snow just yet,” she said.
Creeping along behind the train of cars, Lauren began fiddling with the radio, while Vivien tried to think of a way to broach the topic of Riley’s party.
“I’m so starving right now,” Lauren said. “Do you mind if we visit the drive-thru? I’ve been craving a chicken snack wrap and a smoothie since first hour.”
“Sure. Actually, that sounds good.” Now that she thought about it, she realized she’d been so caught up with Declan she’d barely eaten all day.
Losing patience with the radio, Lauren popped in a Taylor Swift CD. “Love Story” began to play. The luxury car had an excellent sound system. The lyrics seemed to reach out and touch Vivien personally, so much so that she lost track of her previous thoughts and sat motionless, experiencing the emotions of the song as they floated through the air.
“She writes the best songs,” Lauren said when it was over. “I think that one’s my all-time favorite. I’m a sucker for romance. A guy down on one knee for me and I’m there. So totally awesome!” She giggled.
An uneasy mix of feelings came over Vivien. What girl didn’t want her very own Romeo? But was Nathan the best choice here? Seriously! The idea that he was going to treat Lauren any differently than he treated all the other girls would almost be funny if Vivien hadn’t seen firsthand his trick for getting girls into bed with him.
Before long, the Range Rover was pulling up to the oversized menu board. As Lauren lowered the window, a puff of air blew a miniature blizzard inside the car. The girls shrieked and giggled.
“Good afternoon,” the speaker buzzed. “Would you like to try our new quarter-pound, one hundred percent Angus beef burger today?”
“No, thanks,” Lauren replied. She placed their order and pulled up to the next window to pay. “This is on me,” she told Vivien.
“Wait. I’ve got money,” she said, digging through her backpack.
Lauren ignored her and paid for the food herself. “Don’t worry about it.” She swerved over to the right and pulled into a parking space. “Do you mind if we stop here? I don’t like to eat while I’m trying to drive. Snow makes me nervous.”
“No. This is good.”
As they unwrapped their food and got comfortable, she decided this was probably the best opportunity she’d have to get to the bottom of everything. “So…um, you and Nathan…are you guys actually…?” Stupidly, she couldn’t figure out how to finish the question.
Lauren stopped chewing.
She tried again. “We haven’t had the chance to talk, and I’ve been thinking about you and Nathan. You know, wondering how things are going.”
“Mmm, mmm-hmmn,” Lauren replied, her lips puckered over the straw of her smoothie. “Things are going great.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Why? Well…because—”
“Did you hear something?”
“No, no. I didn’t hear anything. I just—”
“Vivs, I have to tell you something. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. OK?”
Vivien began to have second thoughts. “Oh, um…are you sure you want to tell me? I mean, if it’s like super-personal, then…” But Lauren’s urgent expression got to her. “Yeah, OK. I promise.”
Lauren crumpled her wrapper and dropped it in the empty bag. She took another long sip before she twisted to face Vivien. “So, at the Halloween party? Last Friday…?”
“Uh huh?”
Abruptly Lauren hid her face behind her hands. “Ughhh! I had way too much to drink! That frickin’ red punch…I couldn’t even taste the booze and then all of a sudden the whole house was spinning. And Nathan. He was soooo funny and nice to me. And damn! So hot! He wanted to go upstairs. So I did.” Lauren stopped and looked out the window.
Vivien waited. “And?”
“And…I’m not, like, one hundred percent sure. I remember feeling so happy he’d asked me out that night. I was on cloud nine. I can’t even explain how awesome it was.”
“Right, but upstairs…what happened when you went upstairs?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren closed her eyes. “I do know that I puked all over the bed. So uncool.”
How could she not know? “Lauren. You’re telling me you have no idea what happened before that? Before you puked, that is.”
“Well, we fooled around. That’s what we went up there for, duh.”
Vivien put the
rest of her sandwich away, uneaten.
“I have never felt so horrible in my entire life!” Lauren went on. “I puked all night. I don’t even remember being driven home. I don’t remember going into my house, my room. When I woke up I literally thought I was dying.” She gave Vivien a solemn look. “For real!”
“What did your parents say?”
“They didn’t say anything.” Lauren laughed. “I don’t even think they noticed. You know them; they give me a lot of space. So I stayed in my room all day. I told them I was tired and I was doing homework and stuff.”
Vivien knew what this was like, having a parent who “gave you a lot of space.” This was just a nice way of saying they were too self-absorbed to give a crap. “Wow,” she said quietly.
“I am so never drinking that shit again,” Lauren vowed.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then she said, “So…I don’t understand. You’re OK with this? With what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t even know what you…if you went farther than…is this what you really wanted?”
Lauren looked away and shrugged. “Nathan was really sweet—”
“Sweet?” she nearly shouted.
Lauren looked stunned by her outburst. “He called me right away, the next day—to see how I was feeling and everything. He told me he had a really good time. He said he’d definitely hang out with me when my parents go out of town.”
She felt the urge to grab her friend by the shoulders and shake the sense back into her. “You’re still inviting him over? Have you given this any thought whatsoever?”
Lauren frowned. “What are you getting so mad about? I thought you’d be happy for me.”
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I’m not mad, Lauren. But I don’t know if I’m happy, either. Are you sure he really likes you? I mean, how do you know he’s not just interested in…messing around? Especially now that he’s managed…” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell Lauren what she’d seen with her own eyes.
“That’s not how it is!” Lauren shot back. “I know it! And anyway, I want to be with him when I’m not totally wasted. I want to remember it all.”
She sat dumbfounded. Was this the same Lauren she’d known since elementary school? The one who loved dressing up American Girl dolls, who would spend countless hours playing Monopoly? (Despite Lauren’s angelic personality, she’d been the ruthless one, the cutthroat business tycoon who never lost.) Admittedly, Lauren had always been a little boy crazy. And a whole lot more adventurous in that department than Vivien. But no one deserved to be treated this way.
“Listen,” she began, “as your friend, I feel like I have to say this to you.”
Lauren crossed her arms and put on a pouty face.
“I think you and I both know what kind of guy Nathan is. Come on, has he ever had a girlfriend for more than a week? And I don’t know how you can be so sure he likes you, based on what you’ve told me. I think he might just be using you. Seriously! You have to at least consider that possibility before you go and invite him over to your house for…for more of the same.” She paused and gave her a hard look. “Don’t you think you’re worth it? You don’t have to lower yourself down to his level.”
Lauren seemed to contemplate her words. Finally she said, “I just can’t help the way I feel. I’ve liked him for so long, and now I have him. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be different with me. People change.” She pulled her straw out and began chewing it absentmindedly. After a few more minutes she added, “I think about him all the time, Vivs. You have no idea what it’s like.”
She opened her mouth to protest; she most certainly did know what it was like. But Lauren wasn’t finished. “I would do anything for him. Anything. So…” Her eyes became suddenly moist and she sniffled a couple of times. “I can’t not be with him. I’m just going to have to see what happens.”
With this grandiose declaration, she appeared to pull herself together and she leaned over and gave Vivien a tender hug. “But what about you? I’m dying to hear all about Declan Mieres. He is a god!”
Vivien gave her an awkward smile. After all that, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss her relationship with Declan. It was as though that pig Nathan had tainted the atmosphere and now it was dirty. She and Declan certainly didn’t belong in such filth.
“Is he a good kisser?” Lauren asked. “I heard he totally was.”
“What? Who told you that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It was a while ago.”
“What time is it?” she said suddenly. “I have to be home by four thirty.” It was just a small lie, the only way she could think of to get out this conversation.
Lauren glanced at the clock. “It’s four twenty-five. You’re sure you have to go? You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“I haven’t?” She tried to look disappointed. “Sorry. I have a ton of homework, plus a bunch of stuff to do for my mom.”
Lauren started the car. “Fine. But you’re not excused. I want details.”
“Right.”
“And Vivs, like I said, could you keep this just between us? I mean, it’s so embarrassing.”
Which thing, she wanted to ask, the puking or the drunken unconscious sex? “Sure,” she said.
It was just beginning to dawn on her that she was keeping secrets of her own.
Thirteen