Kiss n Tell

by Suzy McCoppin

  Stella glanced at me, trying her darndest to disguise a sour expression with a halfhearted smile. With Austin’s strong hand on my shoulder, I returned the smile reluctantly. I was flanked by Raven and BobbyAnn, who waved at Stella with phony grins plastered on their faces.

  “Well, thanks,” Stella said, making a point to touch Austin’s arm. He flinched, inching closer to me. Stella looked around the room. “This party is incredible.” She paused, frowning. “Is that Rob Pattinson?” she asked. We all turned, following her gaze.

  “Uh-huh. That’s him,” BobbyAnn remarked, unfazed. “He’s a friend of mine. Want me to call him over?” Ava shrieked. The rest of us cowered, covering our ears. “I’ll take that as a yes,” BobbyAnn murmured, sliding off her stool and heading over to him.

  “She’s so not hot in person,” Stella whispered to Vaughn after BobbyAnn disappeared. Vaughn nodded absently. I scowled. Stella was obviously jealous that BobbyAnn is not only famous, but also hotter than she is. “Anyway, Vaughn,” Stella said, tapping her on the wrist. “We were wondering if you wanted to come to Fred Segal with us after school on Monday. It’s kind of, like, tradition. To kick off the week, you know?”

  Vaughn looked to me guiltily. “Only if Anais comes, too,” she replied, taking me by the arm. “I couldn’t bear to purchase anything without her input.”

  Stella derisively looked me up and down, pursing her lips. “I didn’t take her for the … fashion type,” she said.

  Vaughn narrowed her eyes. “She has amazing taste,” Vaughn replied curtly.

  Stella shrugged, turning to Austin. “I’d invite you, too, Austin, but it’s kind of a girl outing,” she chirped coyly.

  “It’s fine,” he said, gazing past her as Paris Hilton marched by.

  “Let me make it up to you,” she said, taking him by the arm. “I’ll buy you dinner. Nobu, Friday, 8 o’clock?” She batted her eyelashes, smirking. I wanted to tear out her cheesy blonde extensions and shove them down her throat.

  “That’s not necessary,” Austin said coldly. “Come on,” she whined. “Please?”

  “No thanks,” he said, taking my hand. He turned to Vaughn. “We’re gonna head back to the tables, scope it out,” he said. Vaughn nodded.

  I followed him, peering over my shoulder. Stella, Ava, and Vaughn chatted like old pals in the warm glow of the bar. I felt a hard knot of fear forming in my chest. Austin put his arms around me, kissing my cheek, and it faded slightly. I smiled.

  “Hi beautiful,” he said, his breath tickling my ear.

  “Hi,” I replied meekly.

  We looked out onto the room. Every cluster of leather-upholstered seating boasted at least one celebrity’s ass. Rob Pattinson, Kellan Lutz and Riley Keough were cracking up. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Camilla Belle sat awfully close. Leighton Meester and Blake Lively shared photos on their iPhones. Jared Leto pontificated to the Olsen twins, who were checking out Christina Ricci’s outfit. Austin inconspicuously snapped photos of all of them while I quietly planned the blog post: Inside NYLON’s Young Hollywood Party.

  After about twenty minutes of rubbing elbows and taking in the scene, I checked my Blackberry. It was midnight. We had to get going.

  I said goodbye to Raven and BobbyAnn, thanking BobbyAnn for her help with the Shrew Crew, and Raven for not ratting me out to my mother. Raven embraced me, urging me to be good and to hang on to my boy, “that hot piece of ass.” I chuckled and told him I’d try.

  Eventually, Austin and I found Vaughn at the bar with Stella and Ava, raising shot glasses of red liquor to their heavily glossed lips. I tapped Vaughn on the shoulder, frowning. She turned, stumbling, her eyes half shut.

  Was she drunk?

  “Heeeey,” she said, gripping my arm to steady herself. “Do a shot with us! They’re incredible,” she slurred.

  “Vaughn, we have to go,” I said sternly.

  Stella frowned. “It’s like, so early,” she scoffed.

  “Yeah,” Vaughn agreed. “Do we have to?” She hiccupped, teetering on her platforms.

  I took her by the arm, steering her away from Stella and Ava. “Yes,” I urged, whispering. “Remember what my mom said if we were late again? If we get grounded we won’t be able to maintain the site!”

  Vaughn ran a hand through her hair, distressed. “Well, why don’t—”

  “You can sleep at my house, Vaughn,” Stella interjected. “I don’t have to be home until 2:30.”

  Vaughn’s eyes widened. “Really?” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Stella.

  I frowned. “Vaughn, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “Totally!” she shouted. “If I left now, I would like, completely regret it tomorrow,” she said. She didn’t even sound like herself. Stella and Ava smiled, self-satisfied.

  I nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Call me if you need anything,” I urged.

  Vaughn nodded, leaning on the bar, dazed.

  * * *

  Austin put his jacket over my shoulders as we huddled under a heat lamp, waiting for the valet. My mind reeled through all the terrible things that might happen to Vaughn without me looking out for her. I tried to go back for her twice, but Austin stopped me. He said I shouldn’t risk my relationship with my mom and the future success of KissnTell just because Vaughn got drunk. I knew on the one hand he was right, but isn’t that what best friends were supposed to do? Risk their own tails to protect each other? I shivered, watching girlfriends pile into cars, gripping the bottom of their skirts in the wind, giggling. It was the first Saturday in as long as I could remember that Vaughn didn’t sleep over. I never imagined I’d be so sad about it.

  19.

  FRIENDS OR FRENEMIES?

  Vaughn

  I woke up on Stella’s pullout couch, my head pounding, my throat parched. I blinked at the sun-drenched room. Two chaise lounges flanked the couch I was sprawled on, a shag carpet between them. Before me, a remote control-activated fire burned in a slate fireplace, a forty-two inch flatscreen mounted above the mantle. Stella’s room wasn’t really a room but a 1,000-square-foot suite. Her king-size canopied bed was nestled between deco mirrored end tables on the far eastern wall opposite from where I was lying, miserable with what I could only gander was a hard-core hangover. I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I got there. The previous evening danced in my memory in pretty, sad, little fragments: BobbyAnn McGhee’s sleepy smile, Raven’s peroxide-dipped head, Stella’s big blue eyes, Ava’s big empty eyes, Anais’s concerned expression, me screaming at Baron Caldwell. Me screaming at Baron Caldwell. I massaged my temples, willing the details to spring into focus.

  He was there, Baron. I didn’t know what was going on. We had had shots, three of them. Plus the champagne. Stella pushed me toward him as he rushed by, surrounded by an Entourage-like entourage of dudes. I collided with him, Stella’s shove propelling me forward. He looked at me strangely: at first, like I was the scum of the earth, and then pity crept in. I could tell he felt sorry for me. I was drunk, alone and apparently desperate for his attention. I cringed, pulling the sheets over my head. He called me pathetic, looking down on me, shaking his head, and then said something about me yapping to the press. The KissnTell post. It was picked up everywhere. At the time, I didn’t think it was a big deal. I didn’t count on running into him.

  And if I did, I knew I could just deny it. Deny, deny, deny. Which I think is what I did. I told him I only told the full story to my best friend. I said it must have been one of his neighbors, who could have easily heard the whole thing transpire. And either way, he was an asshole. I screamed at him and called him an asshole. Everyone was staring. I turned to Stella and Ava, who should’ve had my back, but instead they just giggled in a corner and pretended they didn’t know me. I think Stella even approached Baron and flirtatiously apologized for my behavior.

  She was such a skank.

  I needed Anais. I needed Pam to come bring me Fruit Loops. I needed a partial lobotomy. I sighed, pullin
g off an itty-bitty Michael Stars tank that Stella must have given me to sleep in. I reached for my dress, which was balled on the hard wood floors next to my askew platforms. Under it, my phone sat on the floor blinking. I dropped the dress on my lap and scanned it. My heart raced. There were a bunch of messages from Anais, each more stern and concerned than the next. I felt terrible. I should have just gone home with her and Austin. She must have been so confused. And hurt. I hadn’t even told her about my kiss with Xander yet!

  As I pulled my dress over my head, Stella waltzed through the door in yoga pants, rosy- cheeked, her skin dewy. She was holding a tall glass of water, which made me tremble with longing. I hadn’t been this thirsty since track preseason training. She took note of me, frowning. I must have looked like hell on earth. I definitely hadn’t washed off my makeup from the night before. It was probably smudged all over my face.

  “Hey, you’re up,” she said, smiling warily, stepping into her walk-in closet, which was about the size of my bedroom. I nodded, scratching my head. “I was thinking we could go to the Ivy for lunch,” she called out to me. “I’m starving. I could eat like, an entire chopped salad.” She emerged from the closet in a cashmere robe, stretching her arms over her head. “Just had an insane workout with my yogi,” she said.

  “I’m thirsty,” I managed, bleary-eyed.

  Stella frowned. “Here, take this,” she said, handing me her half-drunk glass of water. I downed it quickly. She looked at me, quizzical. “You don’t look so good.” I swallowed the rest of the water, sighing, and collapsed on the bed, pulling the sheets over my dress.

  “I don’t feel so good,” I groaned. Stella’s iPhone droned in the pocket of her robe. I guess she never left it unattended. She retrieved it absently, ignoring my pain.

  “Omigod, it’s Odette,” she gawked, laughing. “The girl, like, cannot be more desperate to be my friend again.” Stella pointedly hit “Ignore.”

  I frowned. “I thought you two were close …” I said.

  Stella scoffed. “I am, like, so sick of her. She thinks she’s the most amazing person ever and it’s just like, um, no, sweetie. No,” Stella said, shaking her head. She looked me in the eye. “And anyway, she was so rude to you at Winter Formal,” she said gravely. “I can’t just, like, forgive her, you know?”

  I nodded carefully, although I was kind of floored by her selective memory. It was only six weeks ago that she and Odette plotted and executed the laxatives incident with the sole intention of humiliating Anais and me.

  She stood up, heading toward the bathroom. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m gonna shower. When I get out, we’ll make you presentable and meet Ava at the Ivy,” she commanded.

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t even have the brainpower to acknowledge the suggestion. I felt like I’d fallen into a wormhole to an alternate universe and been spit out onto Stella’s couch. But somehow, I don’t know how, an hour later I wound up washed, exfoliated, and outfitted in Stella’s size 25 jeans, extra-small tie-dyed tank and cardigan, with a massive bowl of lettuce, grilled chicken, blue cheese, and bacon leering before me. Stella and Ava chitchatted in the booth across from me, looking wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  “Last night was so fun,” Stella said.

  “So fun,” Ava echoed, stabbing into a piece of balsamic-drenched arugula. “Except for Odette,” Stella said, slouching suddenly. “She was such a bitch.” “Totally,” Ava seconded.

  Stella turned to Ava, thoughtful. “Now that we have Vaughn, I don’t think I want to be friends with Odette anymore. Is that weird?” she asked, as though I wasn’t sitting ten inches from her.

  Ava dropped her fork, considering this. After a moment she shook her head cheerfully. A dull pain spread through my skull. I put my head in my hands.

  “Do I have to tell her?” Stella whined. “Do I have to tell Odette I don’t want to be her friend anymore?”

  “Probably,” Ava said. “To make sure she knows.”

  Stella sighed dramatically. “I mean what good has she done us? She gets us into Xander’s friends’ parties? That’s just so high school.” She pinched her straw daintily, regarding me. “I mean, in one night you get us into a way cooler party. We’ve been friends with Odette for years and nothing!”

  “True story,” Ava nodded sternly.

  “Can’t I just … faze her out? I don’t wanna speak to her.” Just then, Stella’s iPhone buzzed to life. The sound rattled my bones. “Holy shit, speak of the devil!” Stella exclaimed. I shuddered. Her voice was so shrill.

  “That is so spooky,” Ava murmured.

  “I know, right?” Stella said, scanning the message. “She keeps IMing me …” Stella’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God …” she murmured, shocked. “Xander broke up with her.”

  My eyes shot open. I sat upright. “What?” I exclaimed.

  “She says Xander broke up with her last night, and she really needs a friend,” Stella said, a smirk spreading across her face. “Oh well!” she said lightly, tossing her iPhone back on the table.

  I didn’t know what to feel. I mostly felt numb. I kind of felt bad for Odette. But I also couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled. Was it possible Xander broke up with her because he was developing feelings for me? I picked up my fork, stabbing a chunk of blue cheese-coated chicken. I wondered if I should tell Stella and Ava about the kiss. If I should ask them for advice. If I could even trust them. Once again, I found myself needing Anais. But she was probably furious, confiding in Austin, the two of them venting about what a terrible friend I was. I couldn’t deal with a whole discussion right now. I felt like shit and this was urgent.

  “He kissed me last night,” I blurted, bringing the chicken to my mouth.

  Stella and Ava froze. They exchanged a perplexed look and turned back to face me. “What?!” they shrieked in unison.

  I wiped my face on a cloth napkin. “Last night, at Winter Formal,” I explained slowly. “He kissed me.”

  “Xander?” Stella asked, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah, Xander,” I said sharply. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Stella shook her head. “No, of course not. You’re, uh, super-pretty Vaughn. It’s just that … he and Odette were together for so long …”

  “I know,” I murmured sadly. “But he kissed me. I didn’t seek him out at all.”

  Stella nodded gravely. “Well,” she said, a sly smile forming, “do you like him?” Ava scooted to the edge of her seat, eyes wide.

  I smirked. “He’s moody as hell,” I started, “and not the smartest guy.” I paused. They held their breath. “But he’s so hot,” I sighed dreamily.

  They giggled. “So true!” Stella exclaimed. “Well, let’s hook you two up,” she said, dusting some breadcrumbs from the table.

  I frowned. “But … Odette’s your friend,” I managed.

  Stella shook her head, grinning. “Not anymore,” she said, taking my hand in hers. It felt ice cold, foreign. “You are.”

  20.

  THE C-WORD

  Anais

  I tried to close my eyes that night but it was no use. Every time I did, I’d see Vaughn. Vaughn splayed out on the floor of a public bathroom, a drizzle of vomit staining her prized slinky black dress. Vaughn nodding off on a barstool, cracking her skull on the floor of Teddy’s for all of Young Hollywood to see. Vaughn drunkenly gallivanting around the bar with her new best friends: the devil incarnate and her evil apprentice. I threw myself into work to calm my nerves, posting Austin’s photos from the party, which he had of course already emailed to me. Swoon. They looked great. In fact, I couldn’t recall more intimate coverage of an exclusive party in all of my years looking over Vaughn’s shoulder as she perused the online gossip blogs.

  By morning, she still hadn’t replied to any of my messages, begging her to let me know when she was safe at Stella’s, however safe one could be at Stella’s. I yanked my duvet off of my legs, sitting up. It was 11:07. Surely, she was awake. I picked up my phone and dialed her number. No answer.
I sighed, tossing it onto my bed. I watched it sink into the down fluff, gradually disappearing into its folds. I tried to think of the last time we went this long without communicating. When her family took her to Hawaii for five days in the seventh grade?

  My stomach lurched. I was suddenly ravenous. I needed eggs. Sunny-side up. Maybe sandwiched in some whole wheat toast. And orange juice. I needed orange juice. I was parched.

  I stomped groggily into the kitchen, which overlooked the living room. I opened the refrigerator door, pulling out a carton of Tropicana. I poured myself the tallest glass we had, gulping it down in seconds. I poured another. I took a few sips and reached for the eggs. I noticed my mom sitting on the couch. The TV wasn’t on or anything, she was just sort of there, staring into space.

  I frowned. “Mom?” I called. “You okay?”

  She didn’t reply. Her eyes were glazed over, her back straight. It was weird. I approached her quietly. I got close enough to see that her skin was all blotchy and her eyes were moist, like she had been crying. I sat down next to her and she covered her face, taking a deep breath. I touched her back lightly.

  “Mom? What happened?”

  “I need to talk to you,” she said.

  I froze. Raven must have told her. He must have sprung it on her early this morning, or perhaps laid it all out in a drunkenly composed, long-winded email: that I’m a liar, an underage drinker, and a slut. That last part isn’t entirely true, but I was secretly dating a boy nearly four years my senior, which certainly would appear slutty, at least to an adult like my mom. I inhaled, bracing myself for a lecture, a punishment, and, worst of all, my mom’s supreme disappointment.

  “About a week and a half ago,” she started carefully, garnering the strength to look me in the eyes. I inhaled sharply, feeling my pulse in my ears. “I found a lump on my breast,” she finished, her voice cracking slightly. I dropped my hand from her back and shook my head, startled.

  “What?” I exclaimed.