The Aristobrats

by Jennifer Solow

  “In Benin,” Sunday said, “this is a dress you might wear to a wedding. A very elegant lady would wear it.” She tucked a bit of material up under the knot until it was secure. “Your grandmother would not have known such a beautiful thing might be worn by her grandchild.” She smiled. Ikea’s mother’s face was impossibly beautiful, even without makeup. “She would be very proud of you.”

  Ikea looked in the mirror and managed a sad grin. She liked thinking about her grandmother even though she’d died long before Ikea was even born.

  Sunday walked over and stood behind her daughter. “And I know how hard this is for you to believe,” she said, “but your father is very proud of you.” She rested her hands on Ikea’s shoulders. “He just doesn’t always know how to say the words. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them.”

  Ikea looked closely at their two faces in the mirror. She tried to imagine her grandmother’s face there too. And her great grandmother’s—until all her ancestors’ faces filled the mirror.

  ***

  “I guess I’m ready.” Parker walked into her mother’s room. She had to lift up the hem of her dress to avoid stepping on it.

  “Parker!” Ellen Bell was standing by her closet, probably alphabetizing her clothes by designer and starting a card catalog for the whole collection. Ellen nearly dropped the sweater she was folding. “Wow! Sweetheart…”

  “What?” Parker turned around because it seemed like her mom was talking to someone else.

  “You look absolutely stunning,” she said. “You take my breath away.”

  “I don’t feel absolutely stunning,” Parker replied. “I feel like a lump of bleh wearing a fancy dress.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t know to look at you.”

  Ellen walked close to her daughter and put her arms around her. In heels, Parker was almost the same height.

  Parker rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. She felt like crying but she’d spent so long doing her eyelashes, she just sort of snortled, breaking a two-year-old rule: Never snortle in public. Her mother stroked her hair but was careful not to mess up anything. (That’s kind of the way mothers were. They messed up other stuff, but Hair & Makeup was rarely one of them.)

  “Cricket Von Wielding has about a million Friends,” Parker said sadly. “And I have exactly none.” She tried to use the moment to wriggle away but her mother held on.

  “It’s not always about a number.” Ellen lifted Parker’s face and looked her in the eye. “You know what I mean?”

  Parker nodded. She knew what her mother meant but it didn’t make her feel any better. She just wanted everything to be over with already.

  “I got a call from the real estate agent today…” Ellen said into Parker’s ear.

  “Fox Chapel will be okay, Mom,” Parker reassured her mother. “I can make new friends.”

  “Someone from Orion Computers called and asked about shooting a television commercial here at the house for a new product called a holoPod,” Ellen said. “It’s only for two days, but you can’t believe how much they pay. It’s enough money to get us through Christmas! Maybe longer if I pick up a small client.” Ellen exhaled when the last few words came out. “So you can stay at school!” She wrapped her arms tightly around Parker. “Isn’t that amazing news?”

  Parker closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to think about it—leaving was beginning to feel like the best thing to do.

  “I’ve got just the thing for you…” Ellen abruptly ended the Mom-hug-moment and ran into her bathroom. She opened her vanity and pulled out a cut-crystal bottle with a black tassel dangling from its stopper. The bottle was tiny but the golden liquid was potent as Ellen dabbed a drop from the glass stopper on either side of Parker’s neck.

  “There,” Ellen said when she was done. “Gardenia.” She smiled. “That’s what you needed.”

  Chapter 28

  It had been simple to turn Wallingford Academy into a celebration of “A Harvest Moon,” the theme of this year’s Fall Social. Hotchkiss just had to push a button on her Tablet and the upper Super-Screens were filled with dark, starry skies. The wind rustled through the trees on the lower ones. Shadows of clouds seemed to pass overhead. If you looked at it all long enough, you could feel the chill of the autumn night. Or maybe that was some new special effect. Knowing Fitz Orion, he’d probably figured out how to make the actual wind blow.

  Parker held up the hem of her dress and walked quickly into La Cachette. She couldn’t imagine touching up her lipstick anywhere else. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to go into the ballroom. Maybe she could just hide out in La Cachette all night.

  There was the sound of giggling behind two of the three stalls. Parker half-hoped it would be the Lylas, but it was just Cosima and Suzanne.

  “Hi, Parker!” They washed their hands and dried them with one of the embroidered linen cloths folded in a stack beside the sink. “OMGorgies!” they said. “We’re loving the dress!”

  “Yours are even nicer,” Parker managed. “Très gorgies.”

  Their dresses were nice. Cosima’s was periwinkle satin with a simple empire waist. It was one of the “need-need” dresses at Langdon’s that Kiki had tried on for her lunch menu segment, Parker remembered. Suzanne’s dress looked familiar too—another of Kiki’s rejects.

  “You’ve been, like, invisibla since Matin!” Suzanne said.

  “Everyone’s talking about it,” Cosima added.

  “It’s all the goss!” Cosima giggled and checked her hair in the mirror. Suzanne started laughing too.

  “OMGasp for air, Coz!” Suzanne said to Cosima through her fits of laughter. “That thing you said before…that thing was soooo funny, I’m in hysterica!”

  “I know, right?!” Cosima nearly choked on chuckles.

  Parker knew what Suzanne meant. It’s not like she’d never done that trick before. It was pretty obvy what they were laughing about.

  “Byehahaha, Parker!” They were both nearly ROFL when they walked out of La Cachette.

  Parker’s hands were shaking when she reached into her tiny tote and pulled out her lipstick. Tiny totes were in for evening. She’d followed the Rule. The Rules felt like all she had left of the Lylas. She ran a layer of the frosty pink gloss over her lips and tried to think of some reasons why she shouldn’t just stay in La Cachette all night.

  “Hi, Parker.”

  Ikea walked out of the third bathroom stall. She’d been so quiet (or Coz and Suzanne had been so loud) that Parker hadn’t heard her in there. The colors of Ikea’s dress were as vivid as a rainforest. Parker understood what her mother had meant about “taking your breath away.” Or maybe she was just so happy to see Ikea, she couldn’t use her lungs.

  “It’s really hard to go to the bathroom in this thing,” Ikea said, yanking at the bright material layered around her waist.

  “You look really great, Ike,” Parker said. “Like you could be a historical figure or something.” The two of them stood still and far apart, as if inching any closer might cause one of them to suddenly disappear.

  “You look even better, Park,” Ikea said. “Your mascara came out really well.”

  “You think?” Parker turned and checked her lashes in the mirror. “I did that little trick-thingie Plum showed me.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your Facebook pokes,” Ikea said. “Or your Skype pings. Or the texts. Or the actual note you left in the mailbox.”

  “Yeah,” Parker laughed, “I decided to go primitive.”

  “I just couldn’t, Park…” Ikea said regretfully. “My dad’s been at the office all day and I was barely able to get out of bed.” She looked down. “I just wish he’d go away forever so I’d never have to see him again.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Parker walked over and held Ikea’s hand.

  “I guess not,” Ikea admitted.

  “Y
ou know, I’m really, reeeally sorry,” Parker told her. She tried to find better words to say but it wasn’t like she’d practiced this in the mirror. “I feel like I haven’t been myself since this whole thing started. I feel like I let the Lylas down—like I let you down.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Parker,” Ikea said. “I was thinking about it and I decided I’m proud of what I did. I was so busy worrying that I was going to fail at something that I never took any risks. But that’s not the kind of person I want to be.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “And you helped me see that.”

  Parker smiled. She was proud of Ikea too—it was the boldest thing anyone she knew had ever done. “I actually thought it was really pretty cool.” She laughed. “I heard Divya had like eight guys ask her to Fall Sosh!”

  “Really?!” Ikea seemed excited for the first time since before Matin. “Where’s Tribb?” she asked. “I bet he looks hawt in a tux!”

  “…Alterations completely messed this up!” Kiki burst through the door with Plum following behind her. Kiki looked as if she’d just marched offstage of a couture production of Cinderella. The voluminous layers of her dress took up most of the floor of La Cachette. “The seams are in all the wrong places!” She fiddled with her zipper in the mirror. “I can’t even breathe, it’s so tight.”

  Parker and Ikea just stood there staring. Kiki had been known to overdress upon occasion, but she’d truly outdone herself. Neither of them could speak.

  “What?” Kiki asked, looking down at a dozen yards of hand-sewn eggshell duchesse and enough Swarovski crystals to hang a chandelier. “I say if you’re going to fall off the populadder completely, you might as well be a ledge at it. Right?” She fluffed up her skirt. “And you guys look ferosh, BTDubs.” She turned around to fix her hair in the mirror. “You two all made up? Because I’m truly not loving the whole no-one’s-talking sitch…” Kiki didn’t miss a beat. “For one, it’s completely daft, and for two, Esmerelda is having about ten nip fits a day because I have no one else to whinge to. OMGroan, this dress is so tiiiight.” She wiggled then turned to the side and sucked in her stomach.

  Kiki tried to look innocent but everyone in the room knew that it wasn’t the dress that had changed sizes. “All I ate today were some Lucky Charms,” she swore.

  “Well, you do look magically delicious,” Parker admired.

  “Charming, I would say,” Ikea added.

  “LOL.” Kiki tried to exhale just a tiny bit at a time. “Hey…where’s Tribb?”

  “I was so hoping you guys would be here…” Plum had a puffy winter coat wrapped around her lavender dress with matching All-Stars high tops. Even the streak in her hair was dyed lavender. As soon as the door shut behind her, she whipped open her coat to reveal a bust the size of Barbie’s.

  Kiki gasped. “Is that the Fantasia II?!”

  “What do you think?” Plum lifted the foam rack up a little and adjusted her dress. She admired herself in the mirror. “Good, right?”

  “Really natural,” Parker said quickly.

  “Super-native,” Ikea observed.

  “As fab as it gets,” Kiki added. (Lying to each other was definitely against the Rules, but flattery wasn’t. Flattery was always in.)

  “Like you think someone…Kirby, for an example…” Plum asked, “would think I looked completely normal?” She took off her puffy coat and shoved it into a little hiding place under the sink.

  “Kirby Vanderbilt?” Kiki asked (the question nearly popped her zipper).

  “You look unbelievably great,” Parker told her. “Kirby’s going to die when he sees you, Plum.”

  “Good,” Plum said. Parker wrapped her arm around Plum’s waist and they all took each other by the hand. “Oh yeah…where’s Tribb?” Plum remembered as she pushed open the door of La Cachette.

  “Not coming,” Parker said. “At least not with me.”

  “Oh.” Plum managed a half-a-smile. “Got it.”

  Parker didn’t have to say anything else to her friends and that was just fine by her. The Lylas knew exactly how she felt—even without any more words.

  Chapter 29

  Parker walked first down the hallway toward the Doris Duke Ballroom on the top floor of the school—Kiki second, Plum third, and Ikea last. Now that the Lylas were back together (had they ever really been apart?) she didn’t care who would be laughing at them at the dance. When you had the Lylas you could get through anything.

  Even tonight.

  The images of the night sky surrounded the Lylas as they walked, making it feel like they were making their way down a starlit road to a fancy party. The four of them had spent so much time in La Cachette that Fall Sosh was already in full swing. The music piped through the halls. They were almost an hour late. Maybe, just maybe, Parker hoped, they could sneak in and head for the back, without anyone really noticing.

  Parker felt her heart beating hard beneath her dress. The heat of her skin made her mother’s perfume seem like a bouquet of gardenias surrounding her face. She didn’t feel nervous to face Tribb or Courtney or Cricket or even Ms. Hotchkiss, she felt, what was the word…strong.

  The Lylas joined hands as Parker pushed the door open to the Doris Duke Ballroom.

  The music was loud enough that Parker could feel the vibration through her shoes. She had to use her Upper Case Voice to be heard by the rest of them. “LET’S HEAD TO THE BACK!” she shouted. She added the universal symbol for “head to the back” (finger roll, finger roll, point, head nod) and they all followed.

  Curtains billowed down in front of the tall windows and landed in satiny puddles on the floor. Gold tassels the size of pillows held them into place. The glass doors that led to the balcony outside were flung open and heaters over the exits kept the room from getting cold. Thousands of lanterns hung over their heads, or maybe it was just the illusion of lanterns. In this school, it was impossible to tell.

  The Doris Duke Ballroom was packed with Wallys. Most were dancing and the rest were standing tightly against the walls kind of wiggling—like they wanted to dance but the centrifugal force of the room was too great to release them.

  “There’s Divya!” Plum said as she spotted Ikea’s friend dancing with Duncan Middlestat, now a full-fledged upper tier Wally.

  “She cut her hair!” Ikea yelled as the four of them tried to cram into the furthest away corner. “It’s all layer-y!”

  “Kenneth and I updated her profile,” Kiki explained.

  “Chic City!” Plum declared.

  “We’re loving it!” Ikea said.

  Parker saw James out of the corner of her eye. He was alone in the AV booth. He hadn’t dressed up for Fall Sosh the way most people might dress up (for example…Kiki), but he had brushed his hair and he wore a fitted cashmere sweater, instead of his usual baggy sweatshirt, over his black jeans. He looked nice, Parker thought. Should she say hello? She could see James turn his head toward her. Parker put her hand up to wave even though she knew it was too dark for him to see her.

  “Danger, Danger, ex-EGB, nine o’clock.” Kiki pointed to Tribb. He was wearing a white tuxedo jacket and dancing in between Courtney and Cricket (also wearing two of Kiki’s “need-need” rejects). The three of them were violating at least one of the rules in the Wallingford Handbook: Students of the opposite sex must stay at least eight inches away from each other at all school-sponsored galas, and at least one of the Lylas’s: Never do the Sandwich-Dance. Not even as a joke.

  “He’s not really my ex-EGB,” Parker clarified over the music. “He’s just hangin’ right now. Doing his own thang.” She smiled with conviction despite the raised eyebrows from the group. “He is…” The “he is…” came out not only unconvincing but also embarrassingly loud because the music had suddenly stopped.

  Hotchkiss was standing on the stage in front of the microphone. She’d whipped up the lights just a notch with her pen
. She was wearing what you’d expect the Terminator to wear to an event like this: a suspiciously normal black dress, a beady string of pearls, and chic but sensible high heels.

  “We’ve been waiting for you ladies.” Hotchkiss’s voice boomed into the microphone. Her words echoed loudly in the giant ballroom.

  “Us?” Plum whispered to Parker.

  Every Wally had stopped dancing and turned around to the Lylas. Their whispers were like bees buzzing around them. Parker saw Cricket and Courtney giggling. Tribb bent his head down to Courtney, smiled and nodded. Kiki fluffed out the layers of crinoline under her dress (staying true to the new Rule that going down in flames should be done in style).

  “Yes you, Miss Petrovsky!” Hotchkiss answered from all the way up on the stage (proving her super-stealth auditory powers yet again). “…And Miss Allen, Miss Bell, and Miss Bentley.” She smiled a Grinchy smile.

  Parker stiffened.

  Mr. Bentley had just snuck in the back door to the ballroom. Plum and Kiki had seen him too, but Ikea’s eyes never left the stage. No way were any of them going to point him out.

  “Or more specifically,” Hotchkiss enunciated, “we have a special guest who’s been waiting for you.” She nodded to James in the AV room.

  Bad sign: Hotchkiss nodding to James could never lead to anything good.

  Parker gulped as the lights dimmed again and what looked like a long sprinkler head descended from the center of the ballroom.

  Death by sprinkler. It was possible. She’d seen the movie.

  A tiny burst of electricity sprinkled out from the spigot like bright fireworks. Almost everyone in the room OMGasped. But the long electrostatic fingers spread out and around like a globe and joined the floor below. It was then that a holographic image of Fitz Orion appeared in the center of the room. He was smiling, wearing a red kimono and sitting on the floor of a Japanese-style room. A woman was kneeling beside him and serving him a small bowl of frothy green tea.