The Education of Margot Sanchez

by Lilliam Rivera

  Moises talks about me. Why? They probably had a laugh that day at the park. How I’m a conceited princess with stuck-up friends.

  “I’m not bougie and neither are my friends.”

  “Why are you trying to come between me and that fine friend of yours? Text me the address, though. Here’s my number.”

  The guy will not let up. It’s not like Serena would ever speak to Freddie. She likes basketball players and Freddie’s gut tells me he’s on some cuchifrito diet. Oscar peers into the parking lot. Maybe he’s about to change his mind. I need to finish this transaction.

  “Fine. Here.” I give Freddie the address. He’s not going to show up so there’s nothing to worry about.

  “I’m definitely going to try to make it,” he says. “But there’s the whole transportation thing. The Hamptons is far.”

  When he asks for a ride, I respond with a scary face.

  “I might see you tonight.” He finishes up the bag of potato chips. “It’s a big maybe. If I can find a ride . . .”

  I’m not stressing it. There’s no way Freddie is going. He’s like Moises—all talk. Whatever. I’ve got to focus. My big entrance is on its way. It will work.

  I got the beers! See you soon, I text Serena and Camille.

  I’m set. Nothing will ruin my moment.

  Chapter 17

  Chris stops the car in front of the gate and punches a code to open it. My mouth drops. The beach house is massive. There are large windows everywhere, a sure sign that Nick’s family has nothing to hide. The slow crawl over the gravel driveway is long enough to complete my freak-out.

  “Here you go,” Chris says as he parks in front of the house. We didn’t hit much traffic so the ride in was a lot quicker than I thought it would be. I was nervous. I didn’t want to sound like an idiot in case it would get back to Nick so I kept quiet for the most part. Chris is finishing up his MBA at NYU. He lives in the city with his girlfriend. He’s roughly the same age as Junior. It’s hard not to compare him to my brother.

  Chris stacks the cases of beer over by the side of the house. He’s off to meet his girlfriend at her parents’ home nearby. “Tell Nick I’ll catch him later.” I thank him and he drives off.

  I pull a compact mirror out and take one long look at myself. My hair is blown straight. My cute outfit was laid out two days ago. No deli meat smell. Good. Still, butterflies have hijacked my stomach, I reapply my lipstick. The walk up to the door seems like miles in these heels. I scan the windows in the hope of seeing Serena and Camille. Although it’s early, they promised they would be here. There’s no sign of Nick either.

  The front door is unlocked, another sign that I’ve entered a different world. I hesitate by the door. This year I’ve pinned my hopes on a group of people I don’t know and who don’t know me. It can take just one person to call me out and label me a wannabe. To look at my clothes and listen to my accent and see how much I don’t know a thing about this world. This is what I’ve been waiting for this summer but I’m scared. What if I’m not enough?

  Inside, the place is even more intense. Everything is straight out of some magazine. The furniture is modern with slick lines in grays and blues. No loud colors or family pictures on the walls. A house where people shouldn’t really touch anything for fear of breaking it.

  A small group of guys stand over a long dining room table. They take shots of what looks like tequila while screaming, “Shot, shot, shot!” I recognize one of them from science class. I read in one of Mami’s self-help books that sometimes “you have to fake it until you make it.” This is what I repeat to myself when I approach them.

  “Hi, Jason,” I say. “Is Nick around?”

  The guys check me out. They approve and that feels good. My anxiety is still on level ten but I can cover it and try to act as casual as possible.

  “He’s around here somewhere,” Jason says. “Take a shot.”

  “Maybe later.” No need to jump at the first request. I have the rest of the night to impress. Besides, I’m waiting for Nick. I text the girls.

  A deejay spins music at the far end of a mostly empty living room. Only a couple of people dance. I guess the deejay is waiting for more of a crowd before setting off the dance floor. I walk farther inside and say hi to a couple of familiar faces. Two girls greet me like I’m some long-lost friend with hugs and questions about where I’ve been. I answer with the approved script I’ve made up. I tell them I’ve been helping with my father’s business. They don’t even care. All they want to do is talk about their summer so I listen.

  “Have you seen Serena and Camille?” I ask.

  “They were here a second ago. Check by the pool.”

  A cool breeze sweeps through the house. The sliding doors that face the beach are wide open. I can’t imagine what it must be like to live here, to have a vacation home with a large swimming pool and a view. Access to the beach whenever you want. Even though Nick tells me his parents are a little down on him when it comes to money, how strict can they be? They still let him throw this party while they’re away. My parents would never allow that to happen.

  “Margot!” Serena screams from the balcony. She has a large flower tucked behind her ear and a drink in her hand. I wave.

  “I’m coming down!” she says.

  This is the moment of truth. I take a quick scan and press down my flyaway strands of hair. I tell myself to leave my charm necklace alone. There’s no reason to be nervous. I did what I set out to do. I wait for my props for a mission accomplished and to reap the rewards from it.

  “Hi!” Serena hugs me tight. She smells like suntan lotion and liquor. “You’re finally here! I missed you.”

  “I just got here. Where’s Nick? I got the beer. Should we get the cases?”

  Serena laughs. “Slow down. You don’t want to seem desperate.”

  I’m thankful that she whispers this in my ear. I want to do the right thing.

  “Aren’t you hot in that?” she asks.

  I’m wearing a pretty tame printed dress that doesn’t show much skin, not like most of the girls here. I couldn’t, not after the weight I’ve gained from eating good pizza. If she doesn’t like my clothes, Camille will definitely give it a no. I feel like a fashion failure. I undo another button and try to show what little cleavage I have.

  “You have a lot of catching up to do,” Serena says. She hands me her drink and I take a sip. It’s so strong that it burns my throat but I don’t cough. Serena squeezes my shoulder and leads me upstairs. She stops at certain cliques and lets people know I’ve arrived. It’s as if I’m being presented to the group, like I’m making my debut of sorts. It feels good even when my smile seems about to shatter from its fakeness.

  “Here’s the lowdown: Nick stepped out to go pick somebody up,” Serena says. She leans into me too much. I bet she’s been drinking for a while. “Rebecca is trying her best to talk to him but she doesn’t have a chance because, well, she’s Rebecca and you are you.”

  Rebecca is a dancer with long muscular legs. Who wouldn’t want to be with a girl who can touch her toes and do the splits? But Serena thinks I’m good enough.

  “She better step away from my man,” I say.

  Serena laughs. “You might want to talk to him first before laying claim.”

  “I’ve talked to him!” She twists her mouth. I guess my short exchange around beer doesn’t count. “Where’s Camille?”

  “Camille? Where do you think?” Serena points to the balcony. Camille is surrounded by most of the water polo team. Massive guys. She holds court like a queen. It’s time to amp up what little courage I have again.

  “Margot!” Camille yells, and the group turns to me. “How are you, bitch?”

  Camille likes to do this thing in public where she talks hard, cursing and stuff, but it always sounds funny coming from her. In her midriff blouse, pleated miniskirt, and hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looks more like a tennis player than a rough girl. Sometimes I feel like she acts this way fo
r my benefit, as if me being Latina means she has to outdo my uniqueness.

  “You look so pale,” she says after hugging me. “Aren’t you supposed to be Puerto Rican? I think I’m darker than you.” She presses her arm next to mine to check.

  “I may be pale but at least I won’t be getting skin cancer,” I say. One guy laughs. Camille doesn’t. I’m so used to dealing with Dominic at the supermarket that I’ve forgotten my role. I revert to what I’m meant to do whenever I’m around Camille—be her praising puppy.

  “Oh my god, where did you get those earrings?” I touch the large diamond studs. “They’re practically blinding me.”

  I need Camille to like me and she does when I like her more.

  “A little something from Dad. Aren’t they the shit?” she says. “Cute dress. Zara, right? They make good Prada rip-offs. I should know because Mom has the original. You guys know Margot?”

  Of course she would rag on my dress. But it’s worth it, this tiny bit of humiliation, just for the introduction.

  Camille leans in. “Did you bring the beer?”

  I nod.

  “Good work, bitch. You’re making up for leaving us stranded,” she says. “We had plans and you fucked it up.”

  “I didn’t fuck it up. It was my parents.”

  “Yeah, I know. You were stuck working. Blah blah blah. Sucks for you because we’ve been having fun. Right, Serena?”

  She doesn’t have to remind me. Serena and Camille document every single moment online and like a true friend, I’ve liked and left comments on each image. Camille is retelling their Fourth of July party, a story I’ve heard already, but I listen. Her chilly reception will change. It takes time for her to warm up. Maybe more compliments will help. I feel rusty around them.

  The guys stare at her and I’m once again invisible. It’s a familiar feeling. I hate it. I don’t want this to be my life. So I grab a beer off the hand of one of the water polo players and chug it down.

  “Hey!” he says.

  His buddies cheer me on. Camille approves because this is also what I’m good for—entertainment.

  “See, I’m making up for lost time,” I say. The beer is nasty but I endure it.

  Serena shakes her head. “Oh, Margot! Always doing something.” She playfully bumps into me.

  “This bitch is taking care of you so you better bow down,” Camille says. “If it weren’t for Margot, you dorks would still be drinking this cheap garbage.”

  Camille wraps her arm around mine and I know I’m in.

  “Here.” She hands the guy with the missing beer her phone. “Take a picture of us.”

  Camille places herself in the middle, Serena to her right and me to her left. I cross my legs and tilt my head the way Camille taught me to do. Finally, a summer photo that documents the life I want.

  “I love you guys so much,” Serena slurs.

  “You’re drunk already,” I say to her.

  “And? Get drunk too!” she yells. I gently push her. She lands on a guy’s lap and laughs uncontrollably.

  Someone covers my eyes. I turn to curse the person out and find Nick grinning back at me. Nick. He looks good. Tanned. Taller, even. This is the prize I’ve dreamt of for so long, for Nick to finally take notice, and here he is. My tongue feels heavy.

  “Been looking for you,” he says. “Thanks again for the cases. You didn’t have to do that but I’m glad you did. And I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You want to go get them?” I say. “The stacks are right outside.”

  “No rush,” he says. “We will in a second.”

  He has an eager look. So does everyone else. The notebook I carry in my purse conceals a list I made titled “Conversation Starters.” Full-fledged encounters with Nick, drawn out on paper. I studied them. Now that he’s in front of me I can’t think of a single thing to say that will make me sound witty or even human.

  “Doesn’t Margot look great?” Serena says. I know she means well but I can’t help but feel foolish. It’s the same feeling I get when Papi puts me on display with the customers like I’m some limited-edition doll.

  “We should go,” I say. Anything to move away from these prying eyes. “I don’t want the beers to get hot.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Nick says. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait a sec,” Camille says. The girls surround me. Serena pulls lint off my dress. Then Camille whispers in my ear, “Dance with him.”

  They both look at me like I’m about to walk the runway or accept the winner’s crown. I guess I did in a way win something. Nick leads me back downstairs by the crook of my arm. Like a gentleman. And because it’s his house, people step aside. I don’t feel invisible because I’m with him. I giggle when I see Rebecca crane her neck to catch a glimpse of us together.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, squeezing my arm just a tiny bit.

  “Nothing. Never mind,” I say. “It’s just up ahead.”

  For once, I’m winning the prizes. The night is just beginning.

  “Yo, wassup, Princesa!”

  It’s unsettling to hear my nickname. No one from Somerset knows me by that name and definitely no one here in the Hamptons. I strain to look where the voice came from. With the setting sun, it’s hard to tell.

  “Princesa! Over here!”

  Freddie leans his head out of a car. He opens the door and steps out. Willie, the guy who works at the garden next to my parents’ supermarket, joins him. Seconds later, Moises exits the same car. My heart falls to the ground.

  Chapter 18

  Freddie, Moises, and Willie walk toward us. What are they doing here? This is a nightmare.

  “Do you know those guys?” Nick asks.

  I can’t speak. What is Moises thinking? Is he here to humiliate me in front of all of Somerset?

  “Hey, Princesa,” Freddie says. “This place is dope.”

  “What are you doing here?” I don’t want Nick to think anything is wrong so I temper my anger by acting surprised.

  “You said it was cool to come. A shawty hooked us up with the gate code because you forgot to give it to me. We good?” Freddie asks Nick. Moises keeps quiet. His only expression? That sly smirk I know so well. I die a little inside.

  “I wasn’t going to make it but then, toma, Moises convinced Willie to drive his aunt’s car.” Freddie pats Moises’s shoulder. “I’m Freddie, by the way. This is Moises and Willie.”

  Nick shakes Freddie’s hand.

  “It’s definitely cool,” Nick says. “I’m Nick.”

  “Aw, so you’re Nick.” Moises finally speaks. “Margot’s told me all about you. Nice house.”

  “Thanks.” Nick shakes his hand. “Are you guys related to Margot or something?”

  “Naw, Margot and I . . . we’re just friends.”

  Moises wears a grungy shirt and jeans. His sneakers are scuffed up too. If he planned to crash the party, he could have at least tried to look like he cared. Freddie and Willie look somewhat presentable but Moises looks as if he walked off a rally.

  “They’re friends of the family,” I say.

  “Great. You’re welcome to stay,” Nick adds. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Oh. You speak Spanish?” Moises asks. “Cool. It’s probably what Margot sees in you—an appreciation of the language.”

  I can’t do this. Moises is being a jerk and Nick can’t even tell because he’s a nice guy.

  “I’m not that fluent, not like Margot.” Nick doesn’t catch Moises’s sarcastic tone. “I picked up some Spanish when I was in Guatemala, building houses.”

  “For real?” Moises says. “Margot likes people who give back. Right, Margot?”

  “I do.” I watch Moises’s wide grin falter as I inch closer to Nick.

  “Um, okay,” Nick says, a little confused. “Let’s get these bad boys inside.”

  “We’ll help you out, bro,” Freddie says. He touches up his hair and smooths his shirt before grabbing a case. Nick and Willie take the other two.

/>   “Do you mind if I check out the beach?” Moises says. “Spent the summer working. Haven’t had a chance to chill by the water.”

  “Go right ahead,” Nick says.

  Moises walks away without a care. This is some kind of heartless game. Serena and Camille will recognize Moises the minute he hits the party. I can’t have that. He’s trying to ruin my night. There’s no way I’m going to let him think I’m okay with him being here. I storm after him.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Freddie said there was a party,” Moises says. He continues to walk to the beach. “There’s a deejay so it seems pretty legit. Sounds like they’re playing hip-hop. Maybe I’ll bust out some dance moves.”

  “Liar,” I say. “This has nothing to do with Freddie or the party.”

  This is his way of making me feel bad for insulting him at the concert. I was just trying to hook him up with Elizabeth. I’ve been clear with him from the beginning that I’m not into him in that way. I mean, I am, but I can’t. I haven’t spoken to Elizabeth since then but who knows? They’re probably connecting way more than I ever will.

  “What are you trying to prove?” I say. “This isn’t your crowd.”

  He stops and faces the shore.

  “I just wanted to meet the friends who got you stealing,” he says.

  Of course. There it is. Everything boils inside. I’m so angry. I don’t want him to be my conscience. I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty. Not by him.

  “Fuck you, Moises. I’ve seen the way you live,” I say. “I know your history. You’re no better than me.”

  Moises bends down and examines broken seashells and seaweed pulled in from the ocean.

  “I don’t go to the beach enough,” he says calmly as if my curses have barely any effect on him. “We’re meant to live here, right by the water. Funny how these beaches are private. Only the lucky few can enjoy them, like your friend Nick.”

  I see red. Why would he go to the trouble of driving way out here just to hate on my friends? The crowd back at the party grows louder. Laughter and screams. What am I even doing here?