by Kieran Scott
But now here Jake was, and instantly the Jakesession was back full force. The entire atmosphere of the party changed with him in the room. The air actually thickened and sizzled. No one could tear their eyes from him.
Or maybe that was just me.
I took the puck out of the slot and placed it on the table. “Lucky shot.”
“Yeah, yeah. More like the beginning of your downward spiral.” David flicked his fingers at me. “Bring it.”
Slowly, Jake slid behind David over to the wall at the side of the table. I wished he would just go away. Go find some freshman to scam on or get himself a beer and a spot on the couch.
But he didn’t. A couple of the guys made room for him, and he leaned back against the wall to watch. He was wearing a black sweater with a half-zip and a high collar that just about grazed his perfect cheekbones. And he was staring at me with those light blue eyes. I felt as if my blood were thinning out. No air was getting to my brain.
“What’re you, scared?” David taunted, oblivious.
I looked at him. My boyfriend. David Drake, my boyfriend. Adorable David in his Adidas hoodie who had just last night selflessly saved me from alone time with my potential step-family. What was wrong with me?
Taking a deep breath, I leaned into the table.
Jake is not here. Jake is not here.
“Go, Ally!” Jake cheered.
I slammed the puck. It ricocheted right off the far wall and zoomed into my goal without David ever touching it. Laughter and cheers filled the room. My face burned. This was going to be a very short game.
When I made my first goal, Jake slow-clapped for me. When David scored three in a row, he put his fingertips at the corners of his mouth and made a little sad-clown face. When I was down three to fourteen and about to lose, he simply stood there, smiling and shaking his head.
And as annoyed as I was, the entire time I was this close to breaking out in a grin. Because he was flirting with me. No one but he and I knew that he was, but he definitely was. Why? Why was he here? Why was he wasting his time watching me play air hockey?
“Game point,” David announced.
I decided at that moment to do something I’d never done before in my life: let someone win. Considering I’d spent the past fifteen minutes obsessing not about him but about the guy silently mocking me from the sidelines, I figured he deserved it. Besides, chances were he was going to win anyway. I was just putting myself out of my misery.
He hit the puck. It went wide. I sent it back, right to him. He slammed it off the sidewall, and it sailed into my goal.
“Yes! That’s game!” David said, double high-fiving anyone who’d reciprocate. “All right. One more.”
I didn’t think I could take one more game. I dropped my paddle onto the table. “How about we just call it a tie?” I said.
“Oh, come on! You’re just scared I’ll beat you,” David replied.
“No. I’m just scared I’ll beat you and your fragile male ego will never recover,” I replied.
A bunch of people responded to that one, but David placed his paddle down and raised his hands in surrender.
“All right, all right. I’ll take the tie.”
We walked around the table and met in the middle, about two feet from where Jake was standing.
“Good game,” David said, putting his arms around me.
I felt hot and conspicuous all of a sudden. Jake’s gaze burned a complete hole in my cheek. “Good game,” I replied.
Then David leaned in to kiss me, and everyone awwwed and jeered.
“Get a room!” someone shouted, earning a round of laughter.
When I pulled away, David gave me a hug and I rested my chin on his shoulder. Jake was right there, staring into my eyes. My heart tap-danced like mad. He smiled at me, shaking his head. I wasn’t even sure what the joke was, but I finally let myself smile back.
Kissing and hugging one boy, smiling behind his back at another.
This was very not me.
december
Ally Ryan is coming to Sunday dinner.
No.
I swear. I was at Song’s getting my mani-pedi, and Faith
and Chloe were there and they could not stop
talking about it.
But how? Norms never get invited to Sunday dinner.
I heard her mom is dating Dr. Nathanson.
Quinn’s dad? Shut. Up.
Wow. Looks like Mrs. Ryan is trying to claw her way
back up the social ladder.
Like mother like daughter.
What do you mean?
I heard Ally Ryan was totally flirting with Jake Graydon
at some Norm party over Thanksgiving.
No way. Isn’t she going out with that David Drake person?
Yeah, but why drink the milk when you can get
the crème de la crème?
There is no way those girls are going to let that happen.
I don’t know. She is Ally Ryan.
What does that mean?
Somehow that girl always gets what she wants.
ally
It was weird, being back in Chloe’s house. Aside from the fact that pretty much everyone in the library was staring at me or whispering about me, not one detail had changed. The antique velvet chaise we used to get yelled at for climbing on still sat in the corner beneath the green glass reading lamp. There were fresh flowers on every table—red and white poinsettias, just like every other December. The leather couches at the center of the room still looked like they’d just been reupholstered, and the same five coffee table books were displayed on the table between them: Victorian Homes of San Francisco, The Art of Georgia O’Keeffe, Covered Bridges of Massachusetts, The Life of Paul Newman, and The True Story of the Titanic. I could still remember the day we’d flipped through that last one fifty times, page by page, looking for a photo of Kate Winslet and being thoroughly baffled when there wasn’t one.
On the other side of the room, next to the twin study desks, Jake was talking to Hammond, both of them keeping their eyes on the crowd. Suddenly I caught his eye, and he tilted his head in an almost imperceptible nod. My body temperature skyrocketed to nuclear levels. I turned around and studied the spines of the books, pretending not to notice him. My phone beeped, and I fished it out of my clutch purse. It was a text from Annie.
Still alive?
I laughed under my breath and texted back.
So far.
Good. Take notes!!! & come over after. We can detox you! :p
“So. Having fun?”
I tucked the phone away as Shannen sidled up to me and offered a cup of cider. She was wearing a black silk dress with a high, ruffled neck and no sleeves. Her heels gave her a good three inches on me. She leaned back against the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf behind me and surveyed the room. I put my clutch down and took the cup.
“Couldn’t you get excommunicated for talking to me?” I said, feeling grateful nonetheless. She was the first person who’d spoken to me all night. I took a sip of my drink. It tasted like the apples had already turned. Weird. Mrs. Appleby was nothing if not a perfectionist.
“Yes, but I have my excuses all lined up,” she replied, talking out of the side of her mouth. “First, it’s the holidays, and talking to you is a form of charity.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“And second, I’m drunk,” Shannen added, lifting her cup in a toast.
My lips pursed. “Is that what I taste? Did you spike this?”
Shannen shrugged. “What’s Sunday dinner without a little smuggled alcohol?”
I bit my tongue to keep from rattling off the ten things wrong with her logic, not wanting to browbeat the one person who had acknowledged my existence. Other than Jake and his nod.
“You should have some. Drown your sorrows,” she said.
“What sorrows?” I asked.
She took a deep breath and turned toward me, resting her shoulder against the shelves now. “You know, it’
s the holidays . . . your dad is MIA. . . .”
My throat completely closed off.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, sometimes I wish my father would disappear,” she joked. “But do you ever wonder where he is . . . where he’s living . . . whether he’s working?”
“Of course I do,” I said, telling myself she was just making conversation. That she wasn’t trying to be mean. She couldn’t know what it actually felt like, the not knowing. How whenever someone brought it up, it was like they’d attached a vacuum hose to my heart and hit the “maximum suckage” button.
“Did your dad ever work in a service job? Like as a waiter or anything?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“What? I don’t know. Why?” I asked, my pulse racing.
She shrugged and turned to face the room again. “No reason. I just sometimes wonder where a person like that ends up.”
I took a shaky breath and sipped my cider, then spit it back into the cup when I remembered there was alcohol in it. What the hell was this line of questioning about? I felt an intense need to change the subject but couldn’t think of a single thing to talk about, what with all the emotional trauma. My gaze immediately traveled to Jake, the one remotely friendly face in the room.
“So, what do you think of our Jake?” Shannen asked, as if reading my mind.
I started. The girl was seriously fraying my nerves. “Why? Did he say something about me?”
Shannen frowned thoughtfully. “No. I just thought you might have formed an opinion about the guy who now lives in your room. Why? Should he have said something about you?”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Faith slipping through the side door that led to the conservatory. I took it as a good excuse to bail.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Shannen.
I set my drink on the bookshelf and took off after Faith, knowing Shannen would think I was rude, but not caring. The conservatory was cool and quiet, the glass walls surrounding the grand piano looking out over Mrs. Appleby’s prize rose garden. Faith stood in the center of the room, fiddling with her cell.
“Faith,” I whispered.
Her hand flew to her throat. When she saw it was me she grimaced. “God! You scared the hell out of me,” she said in full voice. Then she looked me up and down. “Where’d you get that outfit? Walmart?”
I chose to let the comment roll off my back. “Can we talk?”
Faith crossed her arms over her chest. Her long blond hair was back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore a pink party dress with cap sleeves and a black sash around the waist.
“Why? So you can call me a bitch again?” she asked.
“No. I’m sorry about that,” I said. I ran my fingertip along the music stand where Chloe used to practice her flute. “I just . . . you’re so different,” I said, trying to sound diplomatic. “I guess I was just shocked.”
“Different how?” she asked, her eyes like slits. “Oh, you mean because I have a life? Because I’m not just following you around like some puppy dog?”
I blinked in surprise. “You never followed me around like a puppy dog.”
“Whatever. You loved the fact that you were more popular than me. That you got to bring me along to parties I wasn’t exactly invited to, like I was some orphan you were helping out. That you and Chloe and Shannen were like a little threesome,” she said, lifting a hand. “Well, guess what? There’s a new threesome now. And we don’t need a fourth.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t understand why you have to be so mean,” I said. “I thought we were friends.”
She pulled her head back, and for a second, I saw her. The old Faith. My friend who was sweet and kind and cared about other people’s feelings.
“Yeah, well, friends don’t just disappear in the middle of the night and never call,” she said. “Friends don’t desert each other.”
“But it wasn’t my fault. And I’m sorry I didn’t call. I—”
Faith took a step toward me. “It doesn’t matter. Your father stole from us. He broke up my family.”
“Wait, what? Your parents are—”
“Getting divorced? Yeah. Thanks to you,” Faith spat. “That’s what happens when your dad loses all my dad’s money. But instead of blaming your father, my mother blamed mine, so here we are. One more statistic. Do you know what it’s like having to explain to my brothers why my dad’s moving out? To listen to my mom crying in the middle of the night? I wish you’d never existed. You and your entire family. I wish you’d never come back here.”
My hands shook. Okay. Apparently coming in here after her was a bad idea. I had no idea her parents were splitting up. Here I’d thought I’d be able to make up for everything with a simple apology, but I’d had no clue how much she’d been hurting. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I—”
“What’s going on in here?”
We both turned around to find Chloe and her mother framed in the doorway. Chloe wore a dark green velvet dress and pearls, while her mother looked very First Lady in a crisp white blouse with puffed sleeves and a slim black skirt.
“Allyson. How nice to see you,” she greeted me politely. “Faith. You both know, however, that we aren’t allowed in the conservatory unattended.”
I glanced at Faith, and for a split second she forgot to be a bitch and started to smile. We’d never been allowed anywhere in this house unattended, but that’s what we always were. It was a long-standing joke. But just as quickly as it had come, the smile was gone.
“Sorry, Mrs. Appleby,” Faith said, tucking her phone away. She slipped past Chloe and her mom back into the library.
“Allyson?” Mrs. Appleby said.
I ducked my head and followed Faith. Chloe didn’t bother to move out of my way, so her mother had to turn sideways for me to get by. Unbelievable. No matter how hard I tried with these people, they were never going to give me an inch.
jake
“Dude, Ally Ryan looks hot again tonight,” Trevor said as we walked into the dining room. There was one huge table running the length of the vast room, with at least fifty place settings.
“Yeah, too bad I never got a chance to tap that,” Todd added.
They laughed and slapped hands. I swallowed my disgust.
“Don’t be a jackass,” Hammond said, buttoning his jacket as he came up behind us.
We all looked at him, confused. Hammond had never scolded anyone for anything, especially not sex talk.
“What?” he said, pausing. “There are parents all over the place. Get a life.”
He moved off to join Chloe and her family near the huge Christmas tree at the head of the table, where a professional photographer was going to snap a family photo. Keeping one eye on Ally, who was slowly making her way along the opposite side of the table, I glanced at the place cards. Mrs. Appleby liked to mix kids and adults. She put everyone near people they wouldn’t ever talk to, like her parties were some kind of experiment.
Who was I going to spend the night making tortured small talk with?
Finally I spotted my name. I was between Mrs. Moore and Mr. Shale. Great. Mrs. Depressed and Mr. Loud. I glanced around and saw Ally’s name on the next card. Instant excitement. I looked over my shoulder at Mrs. Appleby, made sure no one else was watching, then quickly switched Ally’s card with Mr. Shale’s. Then I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets. I had just broken a major Crestie rule. No one messed with Mrs. Appleby’s order of things.
“If everyone would please take their seats!” Mrs. Appleby announced, ringing her obnoxious little dinner bell.
I sat, watching out of the corner of my eye as Ally came around the end of the table, still searching for her place. When she found it, she looked at me and blushed. As she slipped into her seat, her arm grazed mine. She was wearing this dark purple blouse with a wide neck that exposed her collar bone. All I wanted to do was kiss that collar bone. Trevor was right. She did look hot.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
I felt lik
e every inch of my skin was on fire.
“A toast,” Chloe’s mother announced. She lifted her champagne glass, and we all followed. Even the eighth graders at the table had champagne. Cristal was not considered alcohol on the crest. “To a happy holiday season!” Mrs. Appleby announced. “And to us!”
“To us!” everyone chorused. We always toasted us. Just to remind ourselves that there were people out there who weren’t part of us.
“Having fun?” I asked as a waiter in a tuxedo placed a dish of risotto in front of me. My stomach grumbled. There was always one good thing about Sunday dinners: The food kicked ass. Everyone started to eat, and the room got loud.
“Oh, so much,” Ally answered sarcastically. “You?”
“Totally.” I chewed and swallowed. “So. Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”
Her cheeks turned crimson.
“He has a gig.”
“A gig?” I laughed. “He’s in a band?”
“Yeah. And they’re pretty good, actually. Why do you care?”
“I don’t. Just making small talk,” I said with a smile.
She smiled back. This was going well.
“So, I’m thinking . . . after this we should go somewhere,” I whispered.
She ducked her head. The blush deepened. “Go somewhere?”
“Yeah. You and me.”
“Are you forgetting about the previously mentioned boyfriend?” she asked.
I grinned. “No. What does he have to do with anything? All I want to do is talk.”
She scoffed and tore off a piece of her roll. “Yeah, right.”
I sat back, faking offense. So innocent. “Why? What do you think I want to do?”
She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”