If Sasha ever became President of the United States one day, which was possible because she was just that determined and brilliant, she would probably mark off the city block containing Venton Heights and, with the strongest military weapon in the world, she'd blow it off the face of the Earth.
We stayed up so late working on my English paper that we both groaned when the alarm went off at five the next morning.
"This is all your fault," I mumbled with my pillow over my face after hitting snooze twice. "I'm exhausted."
"I'm sorry, Sweetie." Sasha sat up and stretched her arms. "I just want the best for you. I want you to be all you can be."
"You want me to join the army?" Sasha threw her pillow at me and laughed.
I fished around my night stand for my favorite ballet pink scrunchie with the tutus on it while Sasha sat up and started brushing her long black hair and staring at her planner. "Oh crap! Is today the third?"
"Yeah, why?
"Desi wants to take me out to breakfast today to celebrate our anniversary."
Desmond Long, Sasha's boyfriend was one of the most eligible black boys in New Jersey. He was smart, well-read, had impeccable manners and was very wealthy. Desmond's father was a civil rights attorney who sued Cracker Barrel for discrimination and got a huge settlement. The Long family was loaded. Desmond drove a classic 1968 Mustang convertible in pristine condition. He offered to pick her up for school every day, but Sasha was too embarrassed to show him where we lived.
"Oh, how sweet," I said. Sasha rolled her eyes.
"We've been celebrating our anniversary for two weeks now. Desi goes a little overboard sometimes."
"Well, a year is a long time for a high school relationship. He just wants you to know he loves you."
Sasha sighed. I guess all was not well in paradise.
"Yeah, I know. Look, I have to hurry to meet him at the restaurant or else he'll try to pick me up or something." Sasha ran into the bathroom and got ready in record time.
"So how is it he still doesn't know where we live after dating you for a year? Doesn't he get curious?" I asked her when she came back in the bedroom.
Sasha shrugged. "Desmond does what I tell him. I told him a year ago to never ask to see where I live and he hasn't." She slipped on her stylish black pumps which I thought were way too dressy for school and said, "I'll see you in school. Don't be late! I love you!" as she dashed out the door.
"I love you, too." And I did love my annoyingly perfect, hazel-eyed beauty of a sister. I didn't have a tinge of jealousy toward her. Especially not in her choice of men. While Desmond was kind of cute, he really wasn't my type. He was a little too clean cut and well mannered for me. Desmond and Sasha kind of reminded me of a black Barbie and Ken.
My dream guy was David Winthrop, the thespian of Bridgeton. He usually got the lead part in every play or musical put on by Bridgeton Academy. His chiseled movie star good looks even landed him a role in a shampoo commercial. Whenever I had a little extra money, I bought that brand of shampoo and pretended it was him lathering…never mind.
Anyway, he was also the lead singer of the all boys a capella group. His sweet baritone voice made me melt. I loved everything about him. Even the way his dark wavy hair flopped over his forehead nearly covering his gorgeous green eyes screamed slovenly perfection.
I dreamed that one day David and I would get married, move to New York and live enveloped in the most artistic and culturally rich society the world had to offer. He could star in a show on Broadway while I danced as principal for any of the billion famous dance companies in New York. Eventually, I would take a couple of years off and pop out a few kids just as David was discovered by Jerry Bruckheimer who was in the audience for one of his shows. Mr. Bruckheimer would be so impressed by his performance he would ask David to star in his next movie. So then, David and I and the kids would be whisked off to Los Angeles and thrown into the Hollywood scene. After David won his first Oscar, I would be ready to start dancing again so we would need to move back to New York. But by this time, David would be so famous that he's asked to star in a TV show based there so we could both work again.
We would have such a glamorous and romantic life. I had it so well planned out I almost forgot the one minor hitch. David literally had no idea I existed. The only time he had ever spoken to me, he thought I was Sasha. Actually, a lot of people thought I was Sasha. I guess we looked more alike than I thought. I took it as a compliment since she was absolutely gorgeous. Anyway, I was too awestruck by David to correct his mistake. I just smiled and nodded and relayed the message to Sasha while we ate lunch.
"By the way, David Winthrop wants to meet you at 4:15 in the Physics lab."
"When did you talk to David?" Sasha asked, looking up from her planner for the first time since we sat down under our favorite tree on the West Lawn.
"Well, I didn't really talk to him. He talked and I smiled and nodded like an idiot. The whole time he thought I was you."
"Look," Sasha said as she closed her book, "I know you have this thing for him, but he's really not for you. He's a rather unsavory character and you should stay away from him."
"What do you mean?"
"Just trust me, Sweetie. I'm looking out for you. I know what's best." Sasha looked at her watch and said, "I gotta go, I have an honor council meeting."
It didn't surprise me that Sasha was trying to tell me who I should or shouldn't date. She always took care of me.
But Sasha forbidding me to pursue David made me want him even more. It did make me wonder, however, if David was such an unsavory character, as she put it, why was she meeting him at 4:15 in the Physics lab?
Chapter 5:
The Return of Closet Boy
"Late again, Ms. Garrison?" Headmaster Collins said as I tried to sneak in the side door of the McIntyre Building. Okay, really he didn't say it as much as he barked it making me nearly jump right out of my skin.
"Um…I…," I really didn't know how to respond to this. I mean, if I said 'no', well, that would just be a lie. The bell rang like ten minutes ago. And if I said 'yes', well I was pretty sure Headmaster Collins had learned many ways to kill a person and I didn't want him to try one of them on me.
"That's the fourth time this week," he added as he crossed his arms over his huge chest. I think he grew three inches just in the last five seconds.
"Um…I…,"
"Would you like to explain yourself?"
"Um…yeah…I," I looked down at my untied laces. I hoped he didn't notice the sneakers. They were against the dress code. Ladies had to wear dress shoes with their uniform. But it wasn't very comfortable to wear dress shoes when your mornings were as hectic as mine. Every morning, I woke at five, threw on some sweats and caught a bus to Ms. Alexander's studio. It was a half hour ride, but at least it was on the way to school. I spent about an hour cleaning the place from top to bottom. I swept the floors, organized Ms. Alexander's office, took out the trash and cleaned all the mirrors. And there were a ton of mirrors.
Anyway, when I finished cleaning each morning, I took advantage of having the place to myself and I did what I loved. I danced. I turned up the Chopin or the Tchaikovsky so loud I couldn't even hear myself think. Then I closed my eyes and imagined I was Natalia Karleskaya of the Russian Ballet. When I was eight, I saw a video of the Russian Ballet performing Romeo and Juliet. The video was like twenty years old and the quality was crappy, but one thing was quite clear: Natalia Karleskaya was the best ballerina I had ever seen or would ever see. I fell in love with her dancing. To see her dance was like having an exquisite ocean wave of loveliness pound against the walls of my heart. Simply breathtaking. It made me want to weep. I knew I'd never be able to dance like her. Ms. Alexander believed I had the potential and that I should never give up trying. She thought that one day I'd be able to dance right alongside of Natalia Karleskaya or maybe even replace her. I didn't agree. But it was fun to dream.
Headmaster Collins quickly tired of my incoherent stu
ttering and told me he was revoking all of my upperclassmen privileges. That just basically meant I couldn't leave campus during my free periods. Since I never left campus anyway it wasn't really much of a punishment. I had no friends and nowhere to go. Besides, I preferred to explore the grounds of Bridgeton Academy than go out to a sandwich shop or coffee house for a few minutes. There was always something interesting to see on the 1500 acre campus. Sometimes I walked to the stables and watched students take riding lessons. Or I'd go to the fountain outside the observatory and make a wish while tossing in a coin. My wishes always consisted of one or two things. Either to dance with the Russian Ballet next to Natalya Karleskaya or to have David Winthrop notice me. Either of which would have been a miracle.
Yeah, there was always something to do on Bridgeton's beautiful campus. Staying on it during my free periods was no punishment at all. If possible, I would live there to avoid having to go home to Venton Heights.
"Um, Sir?" I said before he walked away. "Did you find out who hurt Emmaline?"
He shook his head. "I've spoken to her every week for over a month. She refuses to talk."
"So that's it? They're just going to get away with it?"
"The people who did this have no honor. Their actions will reveal their true character soon enough."
***
That afternoon, while waiting for Sasha to meet me, I sipped a latte. I was completely exhausted and thoroughly surprised and proud that I had made it through the entire day without falling asleep in class after staying up so late with her. I was daydreaming about my audition for The DiRisio Academy of Dance in Rome when the oddest thing happened. A boy, a cute boy approached me and just stood at my table. From the green blazer and khakis I knew he was a schoolmate, but it took me a second to actually recognize who he was. He was the boy from the closet two months ago. I checked out his eyes. They were still sad.
"My psychiatrist says I should go out with you," he said out of the blue. There was no 'hi, how are you today' or even 'hi, my name is.' I looked over my shoulder then pointed to myself. He couldn't possibly be talking to me. But he nodded and said, "Yes, you."
"Well, that is the worst pick up line I have ever heard in my life." I took another sip of my latte and tried to ignore his presence.
"That's because it's not a pick up line. It's the truth. Well, actually, he didn't specifically say to go out with you, but he did say to get to know you. He thinks it'll be good for me."
I stared at him in disbelief for a moment. He had taken off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder like a model in some sort of commercial for toothpaste or apple pie. He looked just that perfect with his crisp white shirt and khakis that looked a little too big, but gave him an aura of relaxed confidence. He seemed cool, self-assured and…rich except for his shoes. They were beat up red Converse All-Stars. They really didn't match the image he portrayed.
Was he serious? This had to be some sort of joke. But he didn't crack a smile. I think he was serious, which meant I had to set him straight.
"Um, no," I said with finality. But I could tell this guy was not used to taking no for an answer.
"And why not?" He didn't sound surprised or angry. In fact, he sounded kinda full of himself. As if any second he was going to elicit the response he wanted.
"Because I don't know anything about you. Oh, wait, let me correct that. I do know you frequent closets and other sketchy places and do…things with random girls."
"Is that really all you know about me?"
I nodded. "Yes, that's all I know. Is there more?"
He paused for a moment as if he was really thinking about this question. He opened his mouth to speak, but just like the time at the closet nothing came out but a tortured sigh. Something was really bothering this boy. Part of me wanted to find out what it was and help him, but another part of me wanted to get as far away from this high school playboy as possible.
"Listen, Closet Boy, I don't know why you and your shrink are talking about me, but -"
"Closet Boy? You don't know my name?"
I shook my head.
"You really have no idea who I am, do you?"
"Should I?"
"God, you're adorable."
"What?" I slammed my latte down on the table splashing some of it on my dance magazine. "Look whatever your shrink is doing, tell him it's not working. You got some serious problems."
"Yeah, I know," he said, turning and walking away. "I'll pick you up at seven," he called out over his shoulder.
"No, no you won't!" I yelled after him. "I'm not going out with you. I have to dance tonight." He didn't even acknowledge me.
I was so busy staring at him and wondering what kind of crazy he was that I didn't notice when Sasha arrived.
"Why were you talking to Will Maddox?"
I shrugged. "Is that his name? I had no idea. He just came over here and asked me out."
"What do you mean he asked you out?" Sasha pulled out a chair, plopped down into it, then leaned toward me ready to hang on my every word.
"What part of that sentence is hard to understand, Sasha? I mean he asked me out."
"On a date?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, on a date. Why is that so hard for you to believe?" That was actually a dumb question cause it was kind of hard for even me to believe. No one had ever asked me out on a date before. Ever!
"Well, because it's Will Maddox. He never asks girls out. He doesn't have to. Girls throw themselves at him." Sasha leaned back in her chair for a moment and chewed on her thumb knuckle. I went back to flipping through my now damp dance magazine and putting this Will person out of my mind. He was definitely not for me. I had seen with my own eyes how he treated girls. I didn't want to be his next closet conquest. As far as I was concerned, this supposed date with Will was a non issue. It just wasn't going to happen. That was until I saw a spark in Sasha's eye. She was cooking up something. "Do you know what one date with Will can do for your social status?"
"No, I don't know. Who is this guy anyway?"
"He's WILL MADDOX," she said through clenched teeth like I was supposed to know exactly what that meant.
"Sorry, that means nothing to me."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "He's only been at Bridgeton for two years and he's already a legend. He's the star of the basketball team and probably the hottest boy on campus."
"I guess he's kinda hot, but David is hotter." I turned the page of my dance magazine and saw what seemed to be a fascinating article on ballet slippers with arch support.
Sasha stared at me with her mouth agape. "I can't believe you're treating this so nonchalant. This is huge, Sonya, huge! We have to figure out what you're gonna wear."
"No we don't."
"And you're gonna need these," she said, digging into her purse. She handed me some little foil packages.
"Condoms? I don't need these." I crammed them back into her purse.
"You most certainly do need them. They don't call him Will the Drill for nothing."
Now I was even more convinced that I would not be going out with this boy. "Sasha, I don't need them because I told him no."
"You did what?" she screamed, leaping from her seat. When everyone turned their head to stare at her she regained her composure and sat down demurely. "Nobody says no to Will Maddox."
"Well, just call me Nobody." That didn't come out quite right.
***
Pointe class ran a little over that night. It was supposed to end at seven, but Ms. Alexander kept pushing us full tilt well past 7:15. Not that it mattered really. I had nowhere else to be. It did cut into my time to eat dinner before my next class, but considering I only had seventy-eight cents to my name, I really couldn't afford to go buy a meal anyway. All I needed was fifteen minutes or so to hit up the vending machine down the street. That would have to last me until I got home. My stomach grumbled in protest of the vending machine entrée but I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to bother Ms. Alexander for a few dollars, especially considerin
g she already overpaid me for the cleaning and the side classes I taught. I already owed her too much.
I walked out onto the sidewalk and noticed a very attractive blond boy leaning on a black BMW and holding a huge bunch of white roses. At first it didn't even cross my mind that the blond boy was waiting for me, but when he walked toward me, I instantly recognized Closet Boy.
The Queen Bee of Bridgeton Page 3