Aude’s picking at a piece of the cake when she feels her phone buzz. The number is unrecognizable—not even from the right area code for Colorado—and the subtext says Congratz, you’re a star! Thought you should be the first to see. Aude clicks the link, figuring it’s probably just a wrong number or something.
Her hands lose feeling once the video starts. She recognizes her own face, and nearly drops her phone as her heart pounds out a four-oh-four beat, like it’s auditioning to be a drummer in the next big rock band. Gabe, busy with his three-quarters of the cake, has to finish a bite before he asks, “What’s that?”
Aude hides the video from view. “Nothing, baby.” Shit! she thinks. What did I do?
Gabe pulls out his phone. “Hang on, I got a message too. ‘Aude’s extracurriculars?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” He clicks the play button.
Aude grabs for his phone, trying to stop the video, or at least push the screen out of view. She stretches as he moves it away, doing everything she can to keep him from seeing. “Baby, I don’t wanna spend all night on our phones. Can’t we just talk?”
“Hang on!” he snaps, moving his phone out of reach.
“Um, Gabe, listen—“
Gabe watches for a few seconds. He flags the nearest waitress. “Get our check.” She does; Gabe pays and storms off.
On the way out, it feels like every other patron’s watching Aude. Her cheeks flush and she stares at the ground. She heads out to the parking lot, finds Gabe’s SUV, and climbs in. It takes her a long time to find her voice. “Look, I wasn’t even gonna—“
“No, wait. Let me finish watching. Wow, you’re really talented, babe. You must do that a lot.” His tone is hostile, almost dangerous.
“Gabe! No! That was the first time I ever—and I wouldn’t have, but Kate made me!”
“Kate made you. Kate made you?” Gabe lets out a harsh laugh. “How’d she do that? Put you under a spell? Tie strings to you and control you like a puppet? Please tell me, Aude, ‘cause I can’t quite figure it out!”
She took that video. It had to be her. That’s why she wanted to get Aude drunk. Aude sighs. “You’re right, I screwed up. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, and I shouldn’t have—“
“Taken your shirt off and danced on some other guy? Yeah, damn right.” Gabe drags a hand across his forehead. “The reason I always loved you, Aude, is how simple things were. You were so open, and now—now I find out you kissed Sean, you gave some other guy a fucking lap dance?”
“I explained the Sean thing!” Aude cries. “And I hardly even remember the lap dance. It happened last night, and I was drunk.”
“Oh, you mean when you told me you were having a night in with your parents? Well that’s great.”
Wait a second. “Why did you say that you loved me?”
“Huh?”
“You said ‘loved you.’ Past tense. Like, like you don’t love me anymore.”
Gabe exhales slowly. “Yeah, well. I dunno lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, since last year it’s like you’re a different girl. Shit, Aude, you’ve always enjoyed having fun. But since last year, it seems like you can’t go to a party without getting drunk. Honestly, when was the last time you did that? Went to a party and stayed clean the whole night?”
“You’re one to talk,” Aude shoots back. “’Cause you’re right there with me. In fact, you’re the guy who bought me my first beer, if you remember!”
Gabe studies the view from his window. “I like to party. We both know that. But you just like to drink yourself to shit. You don’t drink to have fun, you drink to escape—something, I dunno.” He starts the car and drives Aude home. The ride is silent, except for the occasional squeal of tires and clicking of the turn signal.
Aude gives Gabe one last apologetic glance before heading to her door. It swings open.
“There you are.” Her dad works his jaw. “Inside. Now.”
“Okay?” Aude follows her dad as he turns and heads into the study.
He sits down in front of the computer. “I was just getting some work done, and this popped up in my inbox.” He pulls up the video from last night. “Now, at first I thought ‘that’s my daughter.’ But then I realized it can’t be you, or there must be some explanation, because no daughter of mine would ever do that.” The wheels of his chair squeak as he turns to face Aude. “So explain.”
Aude’s mind goes blank. She glances from her dad to the video, and—it’s like there’s a circuit missing. “I-I, uh, I don’t know. Daddy, it was just this once and—“
“I can’t believe you would do something so fucking stupid!” He stares at her, scowling. “Well?”
The only reply Aude can come up with is, “Daddy, language!”
“I don’t fucking care! Do you know what it’s like, pulling up a video of your daughter all over some guy! In nothing but a bra?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Oh, you’re sorry! Hey, did you hear that? Your daughter’s sorry!”
Aude follows his eyes to the doorway. Far worse than the anger on her dad’s face is the disappointment on her mother’s.
“Do you realize what this video makes you look like Audrey?” Aude turns back around; her father’s face darkens. “You look like a whore. I hope that boy paid you really well!”
“Daddy—“
“Take that back,” her mother orders.
His attention shifts. “Oh, you’re saying this is alright?”
“No, I’m not saying it’s alright. But—“
“But nothing! She acted like a complete idiot! Your sisters never, never would have done this, Audrey.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be like them!” Aude can feel hot tears falling down her cheeks. “Maybe I want to be my own person and not just some freaking broodmare for the faith!”
Her father makes a you’ve-screwed-up-now face. “Yeah, it would be sooo awful if you turned out like your sisters. Like Jenna and Jackie at Brown, and Jules at Georgia Tech. Yeah, wouldn’t that just be the worst? Gosh, I don’t know how I could live with that, if I were you. No, wouldn’t you much rather get drunk and sell yourself for a living?”
“I. Am. Not. A. Whore.” Aude struggles to contain her anger. “And if you think that I really am—if you really do—then I don’t want to live here anymore.”
“Then where are you gonna live, Audrey? Huh? Gonna find some boy to snuggle up to?“
“Stop it!” Aude’s mother tries to stop her from leaving, but she pushes past the outstretched arm.
Aude grabs her keys and yanks the front door open. She wipes at her face as she heads toward her car, slamming the door shut and collapsing in the seat.
Chapter Nineteen
Maddie turns as Mrs. Davis pokes her head into her third hour Sociology class. “Excuse me, may I borrow Miss Smith for a minute?”
“Yes, of course.” The teacher nods, and Maddie follows Mrs. Davis out to the hall.
“How are you, Maddie?”
“Um, I’m good. How about you?”
Mrs. Davis rests a hand on her hip. “Not too well, I’m afraid. See, Bella hasn’t shown up for the last few practices. Then today I found out that she wants to quit the squad.” She shakes her head. “As I said at tryouts, our routine this year just won’t work without an even number of girls. So, with that in mind, are you still interested in being a Patriot?”
Devon actually did it. Maddie sighs. The news should make her happy, but instead she just feels bad for Bella. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. We have practice today, at two-twenty. Please don’t be late.” Mrs. Davis turns and heads for the staircase.
“Thank you.”
The teacher looks back at her, raising an eyebrow. “You have a whole routine to learn before Homecoming next week, and then we’re going to perform in front of the entire school. Good luck.”
I already know the routine, Maddie wants to say. But dancing alone and dancing as par
t of a group aren’t quite the same. She’s on the team, though. The knowledge makes Sociology almost bearable.
There’s the other side of the deal though, the bitter contract. The spying on Aude, lying to Kate, betraying all of her strongest friendships. As Maddie heads to lunch with Aude and Hannah, she decides that’s the reason why she isn’t happy to be on the team.
“So, I found a way to fix all my problems,” Aude announces as they climb into her car.
“Oh?” Maddie perks up.
“Yeah, I was thinking about it and—you know how like in India it’s super important to be a virgin before marriage? Well, I was thinking about how they must have a way to prove it, and it turns out they can.”
“Uh, okay?” Maddie’s brow wrinkles at the idea.
Aude pulls out of the George Washington lot. “But in America, a lot of doctors won’t do it. So I had to find one who would, but once I did he said he would write a letter, like certifying—“
“Certifying that you’re still a virgin?” Maddie glances at Hannah. They share a look of disgust.
“Yeah, pretty much. Which means Kate will have to admit that I didn’t sleep with Sean, and I can show my parents that I’m not a—well, they’ll be happy again.” Aude taps the steering wheel. “I’m thinking Fazoli’s for lunch. You guys okay with that?”
Maddie nods absently. Good for Aude, she thinks. Maybe Devon’s little plan won’t work, after all.
The Fazoli’s is deserted except for a few employees. Five bucks buys a cheap fountain drink, some spaghetti, and unlimited breadsticks. Maddie orders first and sits at a table near the front.
Hannah takes the seat opposite her. “So, class president... Congrats.”
“Thanks. I wonder if it’ll be any different than being vice-president.”
“Probably not. I dunno, all those positions always seemed kinda hollow to me. You know?”
Maddie shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. It’s gonna look good on my resume, though.”
“Yeah,” Hannah agrees.
Aude sits next to her. “Ugh, the music here is so eighties.”
“Yeah, I know.” Maddie’s pretty sure the Beatles are sixties, but she decides it isn’t worth arguing about. Her phone buzzes, and she checks it. A message from Devon: Any news?
Yeah, Maddie replies, Aude’s gonna take some kind of test that will prove she’s a virgin.
Huh? They have that?
Yeah, I guess.
“Who’re you texting, Maddie?” Aude asks.
“No one.” Maddie looks up from her phone. “Actually, Aude, I think I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I told Kate about that thing with Sean. It really wasn’t any of my business, and I shouldn’t have told her. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Maddie. You were just being a good friend, but I do kinda wish you’d talked to me first.” She frowns at the label on her soda. “Oh well, our friendship will be stronger because of it. That’s what my mom always says.”
“I hope so.”
A cashier calls out Maddie’s order; she grabs it and returns to the table. Despite Aude’s promise of a stronger friendship, the conversation sputters and stalls once they run out of small talk. Maddie shares her news about making the Patriots, and Hannah mentions something about another party coming up, but for the most part they all just focus on their meals.
Five hours—three hours of school, almost an hour of student council, and a little over an hour of Patriots practice—later, Maddie unlocks the door to her father’s two-story house. It isn’t as large as Aude’s or Hannah’s, but the brightly lit walls and carpet floors feel more inviting. To Maddie, at least.
“Hey, sweetie.” Her father, a short, balding man, is lying on the couch with a beer in his hand and Sports Center on the TV. “How was your day?”
“It was okay.” Maddie drops her bag by the door. “Sorry I’m late. I had to go to dance practice.”
“Wait, I thought you didn’t make the squad?”
“Yeah, well, turns out the girl Mrs. Davis chose stopped showing up. So now I’m back on.” With a little help from Devon.
Maddie heads to the kitchen and pulls out a TV dinner. She pops it in the microwave.
“Wow, you made the Patriots—“ Maddie’s dad limps to the kitchen “—and you’re class president now. Your mom would be so proud.”
“You don’t have to talk like she’s dead, Dad. She’s just gone for a while.”
He scratches his stubble. “I know that, sweetheart. But I think we need to own up to the fact that she might not come back. It’s like gangrene, our family can only be healthy again once we realize holding onto her isn’t good for us. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
Maddie blinks slowly. “Are you kidding me? Mom isn’t gangrene! She just needed some time alone, is all.”
“Then why hasn’t she called, or emailed, or even written a letter?” Her father sighs. “No Maddie, she isn’t coming back.”
“She called me.” Once. Maddie makes a mental note to remind Devon that he promised to share her mother’s new phone number.
The effect of the revelation is immediate: Maddie’s father leans on a counter and exhales slowly. “Oh. When?”
“A week ago. We talked for a few minutes.”
“Oh-kay. Well, congratulations.” He heads back to the couch, plopping down heavily.
The microwave beeps, and Maddie takes her dinner upstairs. She eats alone, lifting forkful after forkful of cornmeal with traces of chicken into her mouth.
Maddie finishes around six, with half of her “dinner” still in the plastic tray. She sneaks down the stairs and drops the leftovers into her dog’s bowl. Her dad is already halfway through his fourth beer; from the looks of it, he’s almost asleep.
“Here. Come here!” Maddie coaxes their small terrier over.
Her father sits up. “Are you feeding the mutt?”
“Yeah. I had some food left over, so I figured I could give it to him for dinner.”
“Oh, okay.” A pained look fills his face. “She called you?”
Maddie walks over to the couch. “Mom? Yeah, she did. It wasn’t anything super special, though. She just asked how I was, and then we sort of got interrupted.”
“I knew this was going to happen, you know… A few years ago, she told me once you were eighteen—I knew she was going to leave. She told me, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I lost her, Maddie.”
Maddie touches her father’s hand. “She lost you. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.”
“Thanks.” Maddie’s dad takes a swig from his bottle. “It just makes me feel—“
“Worthless.” Maddie sighs. “Yeah, I know. But we have each other, and that’s something. Right?”
Chapter Twenty
“Hey.” Gabe doesn’t smile, or give any indication that he’s forgiven Aude for Saturday night.
“Hey.” Aude peers through the fence at her boyfriend. “Can you come around? I wanna talk to you.”
Gabe looks back at the soccer field. “Fine, but it’ll have to be quick. Practice is starting soon.” He walks over to the gate and opens it up, meeting Aude at the bleachers.
They sit down. “I’m sorry for what I did on Friday,” Aude says. “You’re right. It was my fault. I let myself get drunk, and I chose to do that dare.”
Gabe’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t remember.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t. Not the whole thing, at least. But I remember getting dared, ‘cause I didn’t want to.”
“Oh, that makes me feel better,” Gabe replies sarcastically.
“I don’t know what to say!” Aude searches Gabe’s face for some sign of empathy. “Yeah, I made a stupid decision. Yeah, I like to drink. And this time, it got me into some trouble.”
“Why do you drink so much, Aude?” Gabe looks out on the other soccer players getting ready for practice.
Aude pulls off her non-prescription glasses. “Jenna never drank. Jackie never drank. Heck,
Jules would die before she even came within ten feet of alcohol. I guess I just don’t wanna be like them, you know? They worked so hard in high school that they just forgot to do anything. And now all three of them are reaching the point where—Jules is planning her first baby, Gabe. Once that kid’s born, what kind of fun can she have? Her life is pretty much over.”
Gabe turns back to face Audrey. A small smile spreads on his face. “Do you think, when your parents named you, they knew you were gonna be so much trouble? Like that’s why they didn’t give you a J name, ‘cause they knew you weren’t gonna be anything like your sisters?”
Aude giggles. “Maybe. I always assumed they’d run out of J names that they liked.”
“It is weird, though, isn’t it? I mean, they could’ve named you—I dunno, Jocelyn, or Jasmine, or Jade.”
“Yeah, but none of those fit.”
“I know. That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re so unique.” Gabe shakes his head. “Can I tell you the truth? When I watched that video, I was kinda pissed, yeah, but I was scared too. Scared that you were so drunk you would do something like that, so drunk you couldn’t even remember.”
“I know. But I did remember part of it.”
“Only a part, though. That’s what scares me. And what if one of those guys decided to push you further? You might not even have been really aware of what he was doing. Do you get that?”
Aude frowns. “Yeah, I guess. I just don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, Gabe.”
He nods to himself. “What I want to hear you say—no, what I need to hear you say—is that you won’t get drunk like that ever again.”
“But I don’t know if I can promise that.”
“Why not?” Gabe scowls. “Seriously. What’s so wrong with agreeing to practice some fucking moderation?”
Aude winces. “Hey, language.”
“I’m not going to apologize. This is important; I’m not going to forgive you until you promise me you won’t ever drink like that again. You could have gone to the hospital. Don’t you remember Amanda?”
Too well. Aude gulps. “Well, she had way too much way too quickly. I don’t do that.”
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