by Risa Green
Her mother’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers.
Gretchen whirled to find her classmates and the rest of the crowd staring at her and applauding. The red mortarboard on her head started to slide. Despite the shock and confusion, she reached up and caught it, expertly adjusting the bobby pin once again.
“I knew you’d win!” Jessica whispered excitedly. She squeezed her arm. “You were a shoo-in!”
Mr. Tobin stepped in front of the microphone. “Congratulations, Gretchen! Would you please stand up?”
Gretchen mustered a gracious smile and stood. Her heart thumped. She offered an embarrassed bow and wave to the crowd. But even with all of the cheering and clapping, she still could hear Ariel grumbling behind her.
“Well, now graduation’s been ruined for me, too. So I guess we’re even.”
Gretchen’s face was starting to hurt from smiling. Every time she thought she’d posed for her last picture, someone else ran up to her. I’ve gotta have a picture with the class president! they all explained, as if it were the same thing as having a picture taken with the President of the United States. As she faced yet another camera, she felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. She’d miss middle school. She’d worked hard, and it wasn’t going to be easy to start at the bottom again as a freshman at the high school. On the other hand, how hard could it be? Some of Delphi’s wealthiest sent their kids to private schools, even boarding schools down the California coast or in New England. But the true elite sent their kids to the only public school in town because the Oculus Society’s primary mission was to improve public education. Gretchen’s mom and Jessica’s aunt and all the rest of them poured their hearts and souls and fundraising efforts into making Delphi High a shining example. Very noble and very convenient. And worth every penny of the real estate tax, Mom always said, whatever that meant.
Finally, after the last of the obligatory pictures had been taken and her classmates had gravitated back to their usual cliques, she grabbed Jessica.
“Come here,” she said. “You’re the only person in this entire school I haven’t taken a picture with today.”
“The only one? Really?” Jessica asked, arching an eyebrow. “Will I be seeing a picture of you and Ariel up on Facebook later, then?”
Gretchen made a mock-serious face. “Absolutely. And the caption’s going to say: buy a sweater because hell has frozen over!”
Jessica smirked, then threw her arm around Gretchen’s shoulder. Together they beamed into Gretchen’s phone. This one, she thought, goes up on the bulletin board in my room.
“Wait, what are you wearing tonight again?” Jessica asked.
“I told you already, remember? The green dress and the gold shoes.”
She’d been through all of this with Jessica over texts: Mom had made a two-hour drive into Beverly Hills last weekend (which was why Gretchen couldn’t hang out). They’d gone in search of a perfect dress for her to wear to the graduation party that Mom and Dad were throwing for the whole eighth grade class. They’d settled on a long, pale green Haute Hippie—elegant but casual. They’d also found a pair of gold Prada wedge sandals that she knew she’d wear all summer long. Normally, Mom didn’t make such an outrageous fuss on clothes and shoes for Gretchen, but she kept insisting it was such a special occasion and important for the future …
“Oh, right,” Jessica said.
Only then did it hit her. Mom had known all along that she was going to win that Oculus Society Award. Mom had been lying at the podium.
“I’m just asking because I don’t know what I should wear,” Jessica added.
Gretchen blinked. Her annoyance melted away. She felt a twinge of guilt. Jessica had no parents to take her shopping for a dress in Beverly Hills. Gretchen had been so busy thinking about herself that she hadn’t even considered how hard this was for her best friend: no family present at one of the most important days of her life.
“Is your aunt here?” Gretchen asked, searching the swarm of families.
“I told you already, remember?” Jessica muttered, mimicking Gretchen. “She had to work this morning. Rob’s here, though. He went like this when I got my diploma.” She held up the thumb and pinkie of her left hand, then shrugged. “Michelle said she was going to try to make it.”
Michelle should rot in hell, Gretchen thought, not for the first time. Without thinking, she looped her arm under Jessica’s and leaned in close. Since Jessica’s parents had died seven years ago in a car accident, she’d been living with her aunt Michelle. There was only one problem: Michelle didn’t comprehend that she was supposed to act—if not like Jessica’s mother exactly—then at least like someone who gave a shit. Worse, she made no secret that she resented being burdened with her sister’s kid before she had any kids of her own. (Once, Jessica had confided that Michelle had slapped her after she’d gotten caught snooping around in Michelle’s lingerie drawer.) The only upside was Michelle’s husband, Rob. He was a really nice guy—though more in a cool, older brother way than in a stepdad way. So while he could talk Girls (which Jessica wasn’t supposed to watch) and Adele (which he didn’t consider “real music”), he didn’t offer much in the way of parental guidance. And his problem was that he never intervened when Michelle got out of hand.
If it had been up to Gretchen, she would have called Child Protective Services and invited Jessica come live with her family. But Octavia Harris refused to get involved. Michelle was a member of the Oculus Society, as was Jessica, as was Jessica’s deceased mother. And members of the Oculus Society didn’t cause problems in each other’s lives. Period.
“I just remembered that I have a white dress that would look amazing on you,” Gretchen heard herself say. “You should come over and try it on.”
Jessica didn’t hesitate. “Well, I was going to wear that black dress that I wore to the Valentine’s Dance, but if you think this would look better, I mean, I guess I could try it.”
“Definitely,” Gretchen said. And then she flipped her hand up in front of Jessica’s face, knocking her cap right off of her head.
“Hey!” Jessica laughed. She flipped her hand up to Gretchen’s cap and did it right back to her. Bobby pins went flying in all directions.
“Oh, thank God,” Gretchen said, smoothing down her dark hair. “I am seriously considering flunking out of high school just so I never have to wear one of those again.”
CHAPTER THREE
From her bedroom window, Gretchen surveyed the backyard. It was transformed to the point that she didn’t recognize it, and she’d lived here her entire life. An enormous white tent covered most of the lawn; inside, hot pink and orange floor pillows lay strewn Moroccan-style around low tables covered with rich purple linens. Giant gold lanterns festooned the ceiling; potted plants lined the walls. Even the pool had been filled with floating candles and covered with a translucent dance floor. Gretchen knew exactly what Mom was going for: the illusion that you could dance above a cloud of fireflies.
It didn’t look real. Gretchen tried to stop smiling but couldn’t. Tearing herself from the window, she slipped her dress over her head and smoothed her hair one final time, then ran down the staircase and out the sliding glass doors to get a closer look.
Mom was inside the tent supervising the last-minute adjustments, having changed from her white linen suit into black tank dress with a high slit up one side—all the better to show off all the hard work she’d been doing with her private trainer, a tattoo-covered guy named Rick who came to the house three mornings a week. She’d switched out her diamond studs for gold hoop earrings. One wrist was stacked with thick gold bangles. The anklet rested just above the strap of her black, high-heeled Louboutin sandals.
“This is unbelievable!” Gretchen whispered.
Mom squeezed her hand without looking at her. “I’m so glad you like it!” Her forehead creased with concern. “Do you think your friends will get it?”
Gretchen positioned herself in front of her mom’s distracted gaze. “Mom, I don�
��t get it. I can’t believe you did all of this. I mean, it’s just an eighth grade graduation party. I don’t know how you can possibly top this when I graduate from high school.”
Her mother offered a brittle smile. “It’s not just an eighth grade graduation party. Of course, that’s what the invitation says, but it’s not why I did this.” She placed her hands on Gretchen’s shoulders. “This is a very special time, Stretchy.” Mom hadn’t called her by her family nickname in a while, maybe a month. Her black eyes bored into Gretchen’s own. “Good. I have your attention. You’re not a little girl anymore. You’re going into high school, becoming a teenager. Things are going to start happening to you. Things you can’t even imagine.”
Gretchen’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, Mom, maybe you forgot, but I got my period, like, almost a year ago. So if you’re about to give me the ‘you’re becoming a woman’ speech, you’re a little late.”
Her mom laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “That’s not where I was going with that, but thanks for the reminder.” She dropped her hands from Gretchen’s shoulders and straightened her dress, as if the conversation were over. Her eyes wandered back across the tent.
“Then what did you mean?” Gretchen insisted. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“Not to worry. Tonight is just the beginning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, darling, I need to go inside to start greeting our guests. Have fun and make the most of it!”
By seven o’clock the tent was overflowing with people. It seemed like the entire eighth grade and their parents had shown up, even though Gretchen was pretty sure her mom hadn’t invited all of them. But it didn’t matter. The only crasher she cared about was Ariel Miller. Unfortunately Ariel had a habit of showing up in places where she wasn’t wanted—or invited. Like last year, for example, when Molly Carson had thrown a party at the bowling alley, and Ariel had conveniently shown up to go bowling at the very same time, as if it were all some big coincidence.
If she crashes this party, I am personally going to be the one to kick her out.
But Ariel aside, Gretchen felt like she was floating with happiness, and she knew Jessica was happy, too. She was stunning in Gretchen’s white dress, with her long blonde hair and her tan skin. The picture of summer. The two of them had attracted a crowd of boys on the pillows around their table. Best of all, they’d attracted Nick Ford. A lot of the boys in their grade hadn’t grown very much in the last three years. The majority came up to Gretchen’s shoulders, or maybe her neck. But Nick was already taller than she was, taller than Jessica. Plus, he was the star center on the Delphi Middle School lacrosse team. They’d won the regional championship … or something; Dad always kept track of school sports better than she did.
The only minor annoyance was that Nick’s blue eyes kept wandering to Jessica, not to her.
“Hey, did I ever tell you about the time my dad got seasick in Hawaii?” Gretchen asked in a loud voice. Both Nick and Jessica turned.
“So he leaned over the side of the boat and puked into the ocean, and, like, twenty minutes later all of these guys who were snorkeling came up to the boat asking, ‘Who’s the guy who puked?’ Everyone pointed at my dad, and he was all embarrassed, but then they started thanking him and giving him high fives. They said all these fish came out of their caves to eat the puke, and it was, like, the best snorkeling they’d had all week!”
“Ewww,” Jessica cried, but the boys all laughed, including Nick. Gretchen caught Nick’s eye. He flashed a crooked smile that made her insides flutter. That’s more like it. She glanced over at Jessica to see if she’d seen it, but Jessica had turned away, craning her neck as if she had spotted someone. A moment later she leaned over and whispered in Gretchen’s ear.
“My uncle just walked in. Do you want a drink? He’ll totally get them for us.”
“I don’t know,” Gretchen answered. “My mom would kill me if she found out I was drinking.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “It’s just one drink. And I’ll tell him to get you something sweet, like an apple martini.” She glanced at Nick. “We can get one for him, too.”
Gretchen thought about this for a second. It would be cool to have a drink with Nick Ford. She tapped him on the leg. “Do you want a drink?” she asked in a low voice, so the other guys wouldn’t hear. “Jess’s uncle will get them for us.”
He nodded at her. “Sure. I’ll take a whiskey sour.”
Gretchen raised an eyebrow. “Whiskey what?”
Nick shrugged. “I had, like, six of them at Jon Goldman’s bar mitzvah last year.”
He stood first and reached down so Gretchen could grab his hand. She allowed him to pull her up from the cushion on the floor and expected him to drop it as soon as they were side by side, but his fingers intertwined with hers. Gretchen saw Jessica take in the whole thing. Was she jealous? Did it matter? Nick dragged Gretchen behind him, following Jessica to the back of the tent.
Uncle Rob stood by himself near a speaker, holding a drink and moving his head to the beat of the music. With his free hand, he moved his fingers up and down the frets of an imaginary guitar. Gretchen knew that he was a musician; he played in a local band. According to Jessica, “even though Rob knows they’re totally old,” (her words) they were on the verge of getting signed by an indie record label down in LA.
Once, at the Country Club, Gretchen had overheard her mom and some of her friends talking about him. A lost soul, one of them had said though Gretchen didn’t really get what that was supposed to mean. But they all agreed he was good-looking. Gretchen studied him with a critical eye. He was wearing a grey suit with no tie, and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His dark, curly hair was slicked back with some kind of gel that made it look shiny and stiff, and a stretch of stubble grew out of his smooth, dark skin. She could see it … maybe? It was weird to think about your best friend’s stepdad that way.
“Hey, Uncle Rob,” Jessica said, leaning forward to give him a hug.
“Hey, Jess,” he replied, hugging her back. “You look nice.”
“Thanks. You know Gretchen, and this is our friend, Nick.”
Nick dropped Gretchen’s hand and reached out to shake Rob’s. She hoped he’d take hers again, but he didn’t.
“Nice to meet you,” Rob said. “So, congratulations are due to you all, I guess. Eighth grade graduation!” He smirked at Gretchen. “You must be pretty special to warrant a party like this, huh? I think I got a pen for mine.”
Gretchen blushed. “I think it was just an excuse for my mom to throw a big party. I’m not sure the graduation has all that much to do with it.”
“But we are celebrating,” Jessica added, giving Gretchen a look that said she would take it from here. “And we thought you might be able to help our celebration become a little more liquid.” She emphasized the word liquid not so subtly, making sure he understood her point.
“Ah, I see,” Rob answered. “And what kind of liquids did you have in mind?”
Jessica smiled. “Two apple martinis and a whiskey sour would be much appreciated.”
Rob laughed. “If your aunt finds out, she’ll kill me.”
“Oh, come on.” Jessica wriggled her eyebrows. “After you got your pen in the eighth grade, didn’t you feel shortchanged?”
“Do I have to answer?” Rob rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you better keep this amongst yourselves.” He sauntered off in the direction of the bar.
Jessica gasped and grabbed Gretchen’s arm. “Michelle’s here! She saw us ask Rob for drinks!”
Gretchen’s brow furrowed, and then her jaw dropped. Jessica wasn’t lying. She watched as Michelle grabbed Rob from behind and spun him around. Like most of the women in the Oculus Society, Michelle was beautiful: tall and thin with long, wavy, auburn-colored hair and a nearly perfect nose—it sloped at just the right angle and turned up just the right amount at the tip. (Gretchen’s mom privately theorized that Michelle’s nose had clinched her longstanding job as the local TV weather
girl. She was the only person who looked better in profile than she did head-on.) Tonight she was wearing a short, one-shouldered black dress. Correction: she would have been beautiful if her face wasn’t twisted in fury.
“I will not have my husband be responsible for getting thirteen-year-olds drunk,” she barked.
A hush passed over the tent.
Rob shrugged and laughed. “No idea what you’re talking about, dear.”
Michelle glowered at Jessica, but then her face softened into a smile as she spotted something on the other side of the tent. Gretchen looked to see what had caught Michelle’s attention; it was Tina Holt, the current President of the Oculus Society. Michelle was making a beeline straight toward her. It made sense: Tina was Mom’s handpicked successor, the one woman every grown-up wanted to talk to these days.
Jessica buried her face in her hands. Gradually, the conversation in the tent picked back up. Gretchen’s gaze turned from Michelle—now cozied up with Tina Holt—back to Rob. He kept right on toward the bar.
“She’s gone,” Gretchen whispered.
“She didn’t even say hi to you,” Nick observed.
Jessica dropped her hands and frowned, but before she could respond, a waiter appeared before them with a tray of drinks. “I was told to deliver these to the two beautiful ladies and their handsome friend,” he said.
Gretchen spotted Rob standing in the corner, watching. He raised his glass at them discreetly before turning away.
“Dude, your uncle’s cool,” Nick whispered. “You’re so lucky.”
“Yeah,” Jessica said, her sarcasm subtle enough for Nick to miss but not so subtle that Gretchen didn’t notice. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”