She’d used her new camera to document almost everything. I even walked past her room and spotted a weary-looking Jasper sitting on the couch in my parents’ room with a Santa hat on, and my mother—wielding the camera—saying, “Assieds-tu! Stay…sta—stay, Jasper!”
“Get together, ladies!” she said now, throwing her head back and standing an unfamiliar-with-newfangled-camera distance away from the screen. “Okay, one, two…”
Jasper jumped up and barked, as if he wanted to be in another picture. The flash caught us reacting down at the dog, and the next picture was of us laughing about it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this. I was surrounded by people who used my name, who liked me, and who never compared me to Becca Normandy.
“You, too, Barbara,” my dad said, taking the camera from her.
“Oh, I can’t, I’ll look even older next to these,” she said, gesturing at Emma, Leah and me, “beautiful, young, faces!”
“You look gorgeous,” Leah said, putting an arm around her and pulling her in for the picture.
My dad smiled. “One, two, three, say New Year’s Eve!”
“New Year’s Eve!” we all said together.
“Me, too!” Lily said, and then stood in front of us, hands on her hips.
It carried on like this for most of the night, everyone taking turns with the new camera. At some point during the evening, Lily and her friend had paraded in Jasper and Pongo. The dogs were wearing some of Lily’s princess dresses from her dress-up trunk, panting wildly and obliviously.
A game of charades was attempted, but could not be taken seriously by anyone, and no one seemed to notice or mind. When it came time for the ball to drop, we all counted down from ten together, and had the ceremonial hugs and kisses to celebrate midnight.
Michael and Leah kissed well into the New Year. Emma and I squeezed each other and gave a quick peck before blowing into and rattling our noisemakers.
A few minutes later, I was coming out of the bathroom in the upstairs hallway and I ran into Michael.
“God, Michael, don’t just lurk around like that. It’s creepy.”
He shrugged. “How are you doing up at Manderley?”
I straightened up, surprised at what seemed to be a genuine interest in my life. “Um…pretty good. It’s hard being new. But I expected that.”
“Yeah, but you’re probably popular.”
I scoffed and wavered a little in my heels. “Oh, yeah? Is that what you see when you see me? Popularity material?”
He looked me up and down and then pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on. “You’re hot as shit. That usually does it for girls.”
It was dark, so I couldn’t totally see his face, but he didn’t sound like he was kidding.
“Ha,” I said anyway, “right, well. Yeah, thanks, Michael.”
I started to walk down the hallway, but he grabbed me by the elbow. I tried to shake him off.
“Please don’t make this weird, Mike.”
He pulled me toward him and kissed me. I pushed him back, pulling my mouth away and finally stomping on his foot with my heel.
“What the hell is your problem?” he asked.
“My problem? You’re kidding me!”
I stormed off, and down the steps. I walked up to Leah. “I need to talk to you.”
“Why’s your lipstick so smeared?” She looked over my shoulder. I followed her eye line to see Michael limping and pink in the face. Not just from blushing, but from my lipstick.
“I need to talk to you,” I repeated. But she didn’t look like she was going to listen. She was angry and ready to yell.
“Leah, calm down, you don’t know—” Emma tried to reach for her, but Leah shrugged out of her grip.
“Please—” I started, but she put a hand in my face.
“Do not,” she said, “talk to me.”
I swatted at her hand. “Are you joking? You really think—are you fucking kidding me?”
She stormed out of the house, Michael on her heels. I followed them both.
“Leah!” I shouted. “You cannot seriously think what you seem to be thinking.”
“I don’t know what to expect from you anymore!” She cracked her knuckles like she did when she was nervous. “You know, Michael said you always seemed to want him, but I thought that couldn’t possibly be true. Yeah, you always seemed to like him, but I didn’t think you’d ever try anything. Frankly, I didn’t think you’d have the guts.”
“If by that you mean that I can’t even stomach the thought of it, then no, I do not have the guts.”
“Whatever, it just figures that you’d do it and immediately come to talk to me about it. You are such a coward.”
I was baffled. I shook my head in disbelief. “What exactly are you criticizing me for? The fact that you think your best friend betrayed you, the fact that I’m too big a wimp to do that or the fact that I’m a little bitch because I’m too honest? Well, throw this on top of everything you’re mad about. Your so-called best friend—” I pointed to myself “—thinks your boyfriend is a disgusting, smarmy sleazeball.”
“Don’t you even—”
“Oh, I’m not done!” My voice rang through the night air. “I think that smarm is contagious, because you’ve obviously caught it. What kind of a dumb girl are you, that you believe your dick of a boyfriend before you believe your best friend?” I turned to leave, but then added, “And when you do realize you’re wrong? Do not even bother trying to make up with me. We’re done.”
I didn’t know why, but somehow I felt better. I had no place in this world, and in some way that was freeing. It meant I had no allegiance.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IT WAS CHRISTMAS BREAK. BECCA HAD PLAYED sweet with Max for a tortuous two months, and kept him with her. By now she’d really convinced everyone around her that they were madly, incurably in love. Including, hopefully, Max.
Max, though still with Becca, was clearly growing less enchanted with her. It didn’t seem to matter, however, because his parents wanted to meet her, and had invited her for New Year’s weekend. Her own parents were more than willing to let her go, since they wanted to spend even less time with her than did Max.
Assholes.
He’d gotten her a Polaroid camera for Christmas. It was one of the old ones that spit out a square picture with the white frame. He remembered that she had mentioned something about how they were the best cameras and always resulted in the best pictures. He gave it to her early so she could take pictures at the boathouse before Winter Break. She’d gotten him a watch because boys like watches. She’d had the back engraved to say Max and Becca, for the rest of time.
Now it was New Year’s, and she sat at the dining room table with Max and his parents, who had introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Holloway. He had a six-year-old brother who had eaten earlier, and she hadn’t met him yet.
She’d hoped they wouldn’t be the Mr. and Mrs. type and more the first-name type who’d joke around and tell her she was so pretty and she could just be charming with them. She could do that. But these parents were like her parents. And her parents didn’t approve of her at all, and seemed not to find her charming.
That was it. She’d be the person she knew her parents wished she had been. All she needed to do was say the opposite of what she really felt.
After a few pleasantries and most of the meal, Mrs. Holloway laid down her fork and asked, “So, Rebecca, what brought you to Manderley?”
“Public school got to be too much, I suppose.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “The people there were just not the type that I like to surround myself with.”
Or she didn’t like who she had become there. Either or.
Mrs. Holloway nodded. “That is a big problem in public schools these days. That’s why we just had to send Maxwell to Manderley.”
Becca nodded. “I’m so glad you did.” She looked across to Max with a smile. He gave a small smile back.
More
silence.
“What do you like to do, Rebecca?” Mr. Holloway asked.
She hated when people asked her this kind of question. She didn’t really have any hobbies or anything. “Um…I used to horseback ride when I was little. And now…I don’t know, I guess I hang out with my friends?” She shrugged.
Max’s parents exchanged a quick glance.
“And your father is Mason Normandy of Normandy and Associates, is he?”
“Yes.”
“My brother went to school at Yale with your father. I mentioned that Max was going to have a friend come to visit, and when I said your name, his first question was if you were Mason’s daughter.”
“Fancy that,” she said with a convincing smile. That was not fancy, that was awful. She didn’t want their parents meeting or talking or anything. Her two worlds could not combine.
“Do you plan on going into law yourself?”
God no. “Maybe, but I’m not sure yet. I’m not tying myself down to any decisions yet.”
Mrs. Holloway piped up again. “Do you have any idea what you would like to do?”
Becca took a moment to read Mrs. Holloway. “I’m very interested in volunteering at charity organizations.”
She’d never volunteered to do anything unpleasant in her life. Her most concrete plan was to marry rich. And judging by the expanse of this house, Max was a perfect candidate.
“That’s very honorable. I’m involved in some myself.” Mrs. Holloway sipped her wine. “I find it very fulfilling.”
How could anyone find that fulfilling? But who cared, the parents were totally eating up her lies.
“Max, you’re awfully quiet,” said Becca.
“I’m just letting you all get to know each other.”
“He’s so polite, don’t you think?” She looked from Mr. to Mrs. Holloway. “You’re never this quiet at school. Especially on the weekends.”
Max’s gaze lurched to her. She knew things about him she could spill if she wanted to. He knew that.
“The weekends?” Mrs. Holloway looked curiously at her son.
“She means when we all hang out and aren’t in class. Have to be quiet in class.”
“Oh, that’s not all I mean!” She smiled at him. “You can get pretty rowdy at our parties.”
“Parties?” asked Mrs. Holloway.
She could see a stab of panic behind his eyes. It’s not like he really ever did anything wrong, but if his parents were anything like hers, they wouldn’t want to hear about association with anyone that they might consider to be a bad influence. Except, at this point, Becca’s parents knew she was the bad influence.
Becca had come to Max’s with the intention of solidifying their relationship. Clearly going home with him was a step in the direction of staying together. But suddenly she didn’t care anymore.
“I don’t get ‘rowdy.’”
“Sure you do! Remember that time—oh, that’s probably not good table talk.”
“Go on.” Mr. Holloway looked stern.
“Well, I don’t really know too much. I don’t drink or do drugs or anything, so I usually leave early.”
“Are you implying that Max does?” Mr. Holloway asked. His wife was silent, looking wide-eyed at whoever spoke.
Becca waved a hand. “Of course not.” She sounded as unconvincing as she could.
Max was staring daggers at her, but she ignored it, and took a bite of her mashed potatoes. “These potatoes are so great.”
“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed them. If you’ll excuse me.” Mrs. Holloway stood and walked out of the room looking a little emotional.
Mr. Holloway followed her without saying a word.
Becca finally locked eyes with Max.
“What’s the matter with you?” His voice was low and quiet.
“You had better stay with me or I’ll tell them everything.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Go right ahead.”
“You have to stay with me. I’ll tell Dr. Morgan, the headmaster and your parents that I’m concerned about you and your abusive tendencies, your drug use and your drinking. Let’s not forget you practically raped me.”
She raised her voice on the last two words, and he shushed her quickly. She immediately felt guilty.
“Just stop. You’re not freaking me out in the way you’re hoping to, Becca. I’m okay with losing you, but I don’t need you to lie to my parents on the way there.”
She threw her napkin on her plate, infuriated by his condescension. “I’ve been at this school one semester and I’ve already got everyone under my thumb.”
“So?”
The question hung in the air. Becca didn’t have an answer. Nothing besides, because I hoped it would make me happy.
“Max, come here.” Mr. Holloway’s voice was low and resonating, and without shouting he managed to be heard startlingly from another room.
Max stood. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Ha!” She crossed her arms in an effort to look stronger than she felt. “That’s not what everyone else will think!”
He left the room, looking kind of hot all mad like that. A moment later she could just barely hear the muffled conversation he was having with his parents behind a closed door down the hall.
She tiptoed toward the sound, and tried to hear.
“What are you doing?”
Becca jumped, and turned to see the small figure of what must be Max’s little brother. “Shh.”
“Why?”
She spoke through gritted teeth. “Can you just hush?”
She tried to listen again, but all she could hear were the low, resonating tones of firm-sounding adult voices.
“Are you eavesdropping?”
“Shh!” She pulled the little boy back into the dining room by his arm.
“Ouch!” he whined, wrenching his arm away. “Stop it!”
Panic rose in her chest. “Quiet! You can’t tell them I was listening.”
“I’m going to!” He started to run from her but she grabbed the back of his shirt.
“Stop, Nick!” That was his name, right?
He was pulling away from her. She thought quickly. The next thing either of them knew, she had tipped a delicate-looking vase off a pedestal by the door, and it shattered into a million little pieces on the hardwood floor.
“Oh, no, Nick!” She elevated her voice. In a few seconds, the other Holloways appeared on the scene.
Mrs. Holloway gasped and emitted a tiny whimper.
Mr. Holloway looked to Becca. “What happened?”
“She did it!” Nick pointed desperately at her, tears welling in his eyes.
Becca shook her head with a pitying smile at Nick. “No, we had just met and Nick said he wanted to play. The next minute, he had run into the vase.”
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