“Well, yeah. But it was more than that,” I mumbled.
“Have you heard from him?”
“We e-mail each other—”
“Whatever,” Madison abruptly interrupted, changing the subject. “I’m sick of talking about your cousin and anyone associated with her. Let’s move on.”
I glared at the back of Madison’s head. Though my cousin had just created a bit of a scene, I knew Madison’s reaction had nothing to do with her. She hated hearing any nugget about my trip that generated even a speck of happiness in my voice, including any mention of Alex. For weeks, I’d been pretending not to notice, but lately I was getting a little sick of trying so hard to be friends with my own best friends.
“So, it sucks you missed ballet camp,” Emily stated, easing the tension in the car. “Madame Colbert is gonna be thrilled to see you back.”
“Yeah, camp was awesome,” Madison said as she pulled out of the parking lot. “You should have seen Emily’s solo.”
“And Madison was in the best company. Their performance got a standing ovation.”
I could tell from Emily’s tone that Madison had danced a very small part (like always), and that she was trying to make her feel better by complimenting the company. It amazed me that Madison didn’t quit ballet and find something she was more suited for. But Madison kept on dancing, even if she was always overlooked.
It felt good to have my practice clothes on again. I missed the ballet slippers and tights, the taut buns and burning blisters. I missed feeling like a ballerina, feeling tall and strong, like I excelled at something.
More than a dozen girls were sprawled on the hardwood floor intensely stretching their legs, backs, and feet. But as soon as Madame Colbert floated in, we hustled to the barre, found our centers, aligned our feet, and waited for the music. Gracefully, we bent our knees in first position and raised our arms in a demi-plié. Our instructor never said a word, yet we were in perfect unison. We had been doing this for years.
The class continued as usual, moving from the barre to center floor work. My muscles flamed from holding positions they’d forgotten about during two months of salsa dancing and plantain eating. Emily looked amazing, however. I could tell she had learned a lot in Manhattan this summer. She’d always had bad feet—low arches and thin, tapered toes that forced all her weight onto her big toe (she got killer ingrown nails and often hated wearing flip-flops). But her turnout was flawless and her back flexibility had gone from beautiful to unbelievable.
Madison, however, didn’t have a dancer’s body. She was thin as a rail, but also cursed with short legs and a short neck. No matter how much she practiced, she could never move like a dancer. Her posture looked off, though, technically, she was doing nothing wrong. She just hadn’t been born with the physical attributes of a ballerina. I had. And sometimes I felt guilty for not appreciating my frame enough, especially when I watched Madison struggle to extend her leg behind her in an arabesque. Her movements would never soar as high as the rest of the class, and most of us were barely trying.
When class ended, our faces were flushed and sticky, and our hairlines were drenched in sweat.
“Hey, your jumps were pretty good for being out of practice,” Emily said, as we changed into our street clothes.
“Omigod! You were incredible! I can’t believe I missed camp. You look like you got a lot out of it.” I smiled at Emily as I dabbed my forehead with a towel. Madison sat silently behind her, changing her shoes. “You too, Mad. Your flexibility looks good.”
I didn’t look her in the eye; neither did Emily.
“Yeah, sure,” she mumbled.
A lull fell over the conversation. I stood up and slid my feet into my sandals.
“You know, my dad can probably get us tickets to Firebird next week,” Madison stated, breaking the silence. “His boss has season tickets to the Academy, and he’s not using them.”
“No way,” I stated, perking up.
“Yeah, he mentioned it last night.”
“That’s awesome. Count me in,” Emily cheered.
“All right, three tickets to the ballet.” Madison peered intently at me as she spoke.
I knew she was subtly excluding Lilly, but I doubted my cousin would mind. It’s not as if she had any interest in ballet. Plus, she already had her own friends (with some fan club members to boot). Still, it would have been nice to extend the invitation and to expose her to my dance world, since I had spent most of the summer engrossed in hers.
But that really wasn’t the reason I wanted her included. Right now, she was the only person who truly understood what I was going through on a daily basis—with my friends, with my parents, with Teresa. It was like I finally had a sister who would always be on my side, no questions asked. (Not that I didn’t appreciate my brother, but let’s face it, a sister would have been nice.)
“Miss Ruíz, nice to see you back,” said Madame Colbert as she popped her classical CD from the stereo. “Work on your feet. And Miss Montgomery, I see real improvement. Keep at it.”
Our instructor grabbed her purse and left without a glance in Madison’s direction. It was like she didn’t even see her standing next to us. I smiled sympathetically, but Madison simply clutched her duffle bag and walked out. Emily and I followed her lead.
Chapter 11
When I got home from ballet, Lilly was in the shower. September is a rather warm month in Philadelphia, and if I were this sweaty after an indoor, air-conditioned dance class, I could only imagine what a few hours of aggressive tennis could do.
I turned on the glistening faucet in my sunken tub and lit some candles. Just another raging Friday night comprised of a warm bath and a rental movie. I was exhausted, and I knew I’d see Emily and Madison tomorrow at Suburban Square for our weekend shopping ritual. That was enough for me.
I collapsed into my ocean-scented bubbles and closed my eyes. No sooner did my muscles loosen than a knock pounded on the door. Before I could answer, the door opened.
“Hey!” I yelped, covering myself with a layer of soapy foam.
“Sorry, sorry!” Lilly shrieked, her hand blocking her eyes. “I know you hate it when people come into the bathroom.”
“Uh, maybe because I’m naked!”
“Whatever. I’m not looking,” she replied, her eyes scrunched tight.
Lilly’s family didn’t believe in personal boundaries. They’d use the toilet while you cleaned yourself in the shower. It was a disgusting habit that I never got used to in Puerto Rico. And they all thought my reaction was hysterical.
“Couldn’t this wait until, I don’t know, maybe I had some clothes on?” I scolded, plucking a fluffy white washcloth from the side of the tub to cover my nonexistent chest. It was sad that I didn’t need more fabric than a washcloth to cover my A cups.
“Sorry, it’s just that I’m leaving soon, and I wanted to see if you’d like to come.”
Lilly’s eyes were closed, her head was tilted away from me, and her palms were covering her face. At least she was attempting to respect my modesty.
“Well, where are you going?”
“Betsy invited me to this football bonfire. She said half the school would be there. It’s, like, a pep rally or something.”
“I know about the bonfire, Lilly,” I said, shaking my head. It was annoying that my cousin continuously thought she knew more about Spring Mills than I did.
“So, are you going?” Lilly asked, popping her eyes open before remembering I was naked in the tub. “Sorry, sorry.”
She tightly clenched her eyes again.
“No, I’m not going. I never go,” I mumbled.
“Why? It sounds like fun.”
“Because it’s just a bunch of jocks.”
“No, it’s not. Betsy’s friends will be there. Plus, you’ll know people from your classes. Come on, it’s a fiesta.”
I stared at my feet. I could see fresh blisters already forming. My back was sore, and my shoulders were throbbing. But the thou
ght of attending the Football Bonfire was a bit intriguing. Madison, Emily, and I had always felt uninvited to sports events. We thought we’d be intruding upon someone else’s ritual, like if the football players suddenly dropped in on a ballet performance. We wouldn’t exactly welcome their attendance. Actually, it would be pretty annoying.
“I’ll think about it. Who are you going with?” I asked.
“Great, I knew you’d come! Chad’s picking us up in twenty minutes. Hurry up and get dressed.”
Lilly rushed out of the bathroom without waiting for a reply, which was probably smart, because I would have rejected the entire plan. Only she didn’t give me a chance. I grabbed the shampoo and lathered my hair. There wasn’t much time to get ready.
A football player was being burned at the stake. Not a real person. It was just a uniform from the opposing team stuffed like a scarecrow and tied to a pole. The kindling below hadn’t yet been lit, but the couple hundred kids in attendance were waiting with anxious savagery.
Chad, a fellow sophomore classmate whom I had never spoken to before in my life, had picked us up right on time. I was barely able to dry my hair before the car was honking in the driveway. I threw on a pair of Vince’s old jeans, a fitted navy T-shirt, and matching flip-flops before heading out the door. Unlike me, Lilly wore a face full of makeup, a tight skirt, three inches of cleavage, and enough hair product to keep the people at Paul Mitchell in business for quite a long time.
We followed Betsy, Chad, and their friends through the crowd, slinking our way toward the front. Lilly’s drooling freshmen fan club kept its distance after receiving only a brief wave at our arrival. I think she may have had enough of their antics during practice. The poor boys looked devastated.
While I recognized almost everyone around us, I didn’t see a single student from my classes. We honors kids supported the mathletes more than the athletes. Lilly was my only real friend in attendance.
“Wow, this is super cool,” Lilly whispered staring at the crowd of teens gathered on the field. “In Puerto Rico, sometimes we used to hang out on the beach at night. I guess this is kinda like your version of a beach party.”
“Sure, just without the sand, the ocean, or the tropical scenery.” I smirked.
Lilly elbowed me with a snarky look. “You know what I mean. Anyway, are they really gonna light that thing on fire?”
“Looks like it, though I’d think it’d be a pretty serious fire hazard. I’m surprised the school lets us do it.”
“There’s a fire truck waiting out back,” said a voice from behind us.
I turned and saw Bobby McNabb, video camera in hand.
“What are you doing here?” An involuntary smile slid across my face.
“Filming it. I feel it’s my responsibility to document the rituals of upper middle class teenage America.”
“Is that your thesis statement?” I asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Only if it makes it to the Philadelphia Film Festival.”
“Good luck with that.”
Lilly cleared her throat beside me.
“Oh, Bobby, this is my cousin Lilly. She just moved here from Puerto Rico.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Bobby replied, nodding to her.
Lilly’s eyes flicked back and forth between us.
“You know, I’m gonna go catch up with Betsy. Why don’t you look for me later.” She grinned and started to walk away.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I’m coming with you.”
I turned to Bobby.
“Have fun filming.”
“Oh, um, yeah. You too. I mean, have fun tonight,” he stammered as he fiddled with a button on his camera.
I grabbed Lilly’s forearm and followed her into the crowd.
“Okay, what was that?” she whispered so loudly we caught stares from the students around us.
“What was what?”
“He was totally into you. Why didn’t you stay with him?”
“Bobby? What-ev,” I said, rejecting the implication. “We’re just locker buddies.”
“Well, it looked like more than that to me.”
“We’re lab partners. But that’s all. He asked out Emily this summer.”
“And?”
“And, they went out on a date.”
“One date?”
I nodded.
“I see,” Lilly hummed.
“What?”
“Well, maybe he’s moved on.”
“I would never, ever date anyone that Emily is even remotely interested in.”
“So if Orlando Bloom asked you out, you’d say no?” Lilly curled her mouth.
“That’s different.”
“See there’s always an exception.”
Betsy, Chad, and a crew of about fifteen students stood huddled a few feet from the stuffed football player. It was almost time to burn the poor soul in effigy, a rather sick tradition really. In any other circumstance, burning a life-sized replica of another human being would be considered a murderous threat or at least a kooky act of voodoo. Imagine me torching the ballet slippers of a rival dancer right before a company’s tryouts. I’m pretty sure the police would get involved, and the crowd of spectators would be a jury of my peers.
“Hey guys, this is my cousin Mariana,” Lilly gestured as she introduced me to her pack of friends.
It was at that moment I realized I had gone from being “Mariana Ruíz” to “Mariana Ruíz, Lilly’s cousin.” And she had only been here a week.
The girls smiled politely, and the guys raised their chins before turning their stares toward Lilly’s chest. I couldn’t really blame them; her cleavage was hard to miss.
“So, what, are you, like, new here?” Evan Casey eyeballed me as his lips pursed to the side.
The boy had gone to Sunday school with me for two years. We made our communion together. He knew quite well who I was. But being the captain of the wrestling crew with a muscle-bound image to protect, he couldn’t dare acknowledge a lowly honors student like myself. It made me glad that I didn’t have friends like his.
“No, Evan. I’ve lived in Spring Mills my whole life.”
“Oh, seriously?” He snorted before elbowing his friend with a cocky grin.
“Yup. You sat next to me at St. Monica’s. Remember that time Father Thomas reprimanded you for using the Lord’s name in vain, and you started crying. They had to call your mom. I sat with you in the rectory until she picked you up. You remember, don’t you?”
Complete silence. Puzzled eyes stretched wide as the snide grin washed from Evan’s face. His nostrils flared with heated breath. I bit my lip to keep from smiling—that is until Lilly rippled with laughter.
“I’m sorry, Evan. But that’s too funny,” she gasped, giggling.
The crowd broke into chuckles, and Evan faked a grin.
“Oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. Whatever ... It was a long time ago. And you look ... different,” he murmured, shrugging uncomfortably.
I paused and stared him straight in the eye. “No biggie. I knew it’d come back to you.”
Just then, the varsity football team barreled out from behind the bleachers and burst through a “Spring Mills Rules!” paper banner the cheerleaders held taut. The last three boys, the senior captains, carried torches. They jogged down a dirt path lined by their teammates and faced the crowd.
“Hello, Spring Mills!” a captain bellowed into a megaphone.
The crowd ignited in cheers.
“It’s football season, and we’ve got these wimps from down the road who think they’re gonna come into our house next week and push us around!” he boomed to a mass of boos.
“But we’re not gonna let ’em, are we?”
“No!” everyone shouted.
“That’s right. ’Cause who we gonna beat?”
“Thorndale!”
The crowd erupted in thunderous claps. Guys body-slammed into one another and pounded their chests. Even without much experience with football games, let alone pep rallies
, I could see how people could get caught up in this.
“Spring Mills!” Clap, clap.
“Ti-gers!” Clap, clap.
The mob howled in unison as the captains lowered their flames to the pile of wood. As soon as the first sparks flew, cheers swept through the student body.
It was a lynch mob if ever I saw one.
Lilly and her friends continued chanting as my eyes scanned the crowd. I spied Bobby, standing on the opposite end of the inferno, his digital video camera pressed to his eye. In that moment, he looked like a real filmmaker, slowly weaving his shoulders and extending his long legs to get the perfect shot. He was probably the one person in attendance who found the entire spectacle as odd as I did.
All of the sudden, thick, gray smoke pillowed up from the burning wood. The chalky scent filled my nostrils and water swelled in my eyes. I lifted my hands to cover my face from the airborne debris.
“God, who’s that loser with the camera?” I heard Evan ask.
My shoulders instantly tensed.
“Who? Where?” asked Evan’s buddy, Scott Piper.
“The dork with the glasses over there. He’s filming this like it’s some stupid project,” Evan continued.
My pulse began to spike. It was obvious who they were talking about, and it might as well have been me. I didn’t belong here either.
“I know, I hate it when losers like that try to ruin things. Get a life, buddy,” Scott replied. Scott had also attended our Sunday school classes, though clearly all those lessons on “do unto others as you’d have done unto you” were wiped from both their memories.
I peeled my hands from my face and saw Evan glaring and pointing at Bobby.
“I know, maybe if he had one, he wouldn’t have to film other people’s. It’s pathetic.”
I dug my pink-painted nails into the heels of my palms as my dark eyes squinted. I glanced toward Bobby as he looked up from his eyepiece. He lifted his chin toward me and smiled.
“Is that freak smiling at us?” Evan asked, punching Scott’s arm and nodding toward Bobby.
“What, is he gay?” Scott joked.
Amigas and School Scandals Page 7