All That Glitters (17 page)

“You're either cuckoo or a genius,
chérie
,” she said.

I turned to the security guard. “And that'll take care of the fire hazard, because we'll move everything
and everyone backstage, so you don't even have to call the fire marshal.”

Now the only gloomy faces in the group were Kennedy's and Willa's, and for some reason, that didn't bother me at all.

“You guys want to be in the show or what?” I asked them, and I got silent stares at the ground. They didn't look like they were going anywhere. “That's what I thought,” I said. “I'll let your ridiculous accusation about the school funds slide this time, Willa. And Virgil's still on, that's for sure.”

“And it's going to rock, that's for
sure
.” Camille backed me up.

“All the models—backstage,” Jade's voice rang out from her headset microphone. She was back in power-pout mode. “We only have ten minutes to get you fitted and memorizing your words!”

Ramsey shot me a confused look. “Our words?” she said.

“Don't ask.” I laughed as we picked up our sticks and started to book it to the dressing room. “Just be glad English is your first language.”

The Essence of Success

“Clairvoyance,” I heard Ramsey belt out when she got to the head of the runway in her bejeweled floor-length field hockey uniform. She'd successfully kicked off Jade's show, and I could hear the
oohs
and
aahs
from the crowd to prove it.

I was backstage, huddled up with my designer teammates, all of us jittery with pre-walk excitement. My heart was beating fast, but as I looked around me, I had to remind myself that at least I'd had a dress rehearsal for this. The rest of my teammates were basically winging it. At least they looked incredible.

Sure, we'd gotten off to a slightly late start. The lights went down and came back up, and we were still running around backstage, hustling to get all fourteen girls outfitted and altered and lined up at the door. But it was better to walk late than never, and I had to
admit, I'd never seen a better-looking field hockey team or a more dazzling group of models.

Ramsey looked spectacular, all aglow when she returned from her foray on the catwalk. I'd been a bit surprised that Jade had seized on her to be the opening model for the collection, but that, too, was part of her genius.

She'd said, “There's such strength in you. You are the perfect debut for my line. You will
be
the sportswear evening gown,
non
?”

Now the lights in the drill hall were out except for the headlights over the bright white runway and the flash of the photographers' cameras. Morgan's CD sounded great blaring through the Bose stereo system that Feb was controlling upstairs. I really hoped Morgan was in the audience now with Harper and Amory, and that she was jazzed to hear her music being used as the soundtrack for the show. I didn't want to be a one-hit wonder, and I knew that after my flakiness this week, playing Morgan's CD wasn't enough to get my friendship batting average back up to where it had started with those girls. Still, I had to hope it was at least a base hit.

As my teammates entered the runway one by one, I kept my fingers crossed that everyone's spin around the catwalk would go off without a hitch. Thank goodness
the Thoney girls had been more receptive to spouting off multisyllabic words at the head of the runway than their French counterparts had been.

“Elemental,” I heard Jenna, our blond forward, enunciate perfectly when she reached the end of the catwalk.

Camille was up next. I sneaked out of line for a minute to squeeze her hand. “Good luck, Ms. Onomatopoeia,” I whispered.

She grinned at me. “You too, Ms. Essence.”

From where I stood backstage, I could barely see Camille's willowy frame as she entered the hall, but through the gauzy backdrop, I could hear that a section in the audience had given her an enthusiastic standing ovation when she unleashed “Onomatopoeia” on them. I kept my fingers crossed that Xander was out there somewhere with Alex.

Before I knew it, almost all the girls had filed on and off the runway. In front of me was just Willa and Kennedy. Turns out they'd both decided their shot at modeling was more important than consistency in their bitchiness.

All three of us shared a nervous glance, which felt a little funny, because sure, ninety percent of the time the vibe between us bordered on destructive. But tonight, none of that was on my mind. I only wanted
the show to go off without a hitch. I genuinely hoped both of them had great walks—for their sake, for Jade's sake, and for the sake of our whole field hockey team.

“Good luck out there, you guys,” I said.

Neither one of them said anything, but both of them nodded at me in an
almost
agreeable way.

“Kennedy,” Jade's PA hissed, “you're up.”

The music changed to a slower Meiko song, the last song of the show. I'd been listening to it a lot on my iPod since Morgan had given me this CD, to the point that its catchy electronic beat was already tied in my mind to the insanity of my first week at Thoney.

“Determination,” Kennedy called out, posing at the end of the runway and getting a peppy round of applause.

Willa turned back and gave me a quick smile before she strutted out through the curtains. As they billowed back behind her, I got a glimpse of what it looked like outside. The entire place was packed.

“Solidarity,” Willa announced to the crowd.

In the jumbled assignments of words, I hadn't been sure what word had been given to whom, but “solidarity” seemed both ironic and fitting for Willa. I didn't know if this moment of semi-truce among the three of us would last, or whether we were all just
caught up in the exhilaration of the moment, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. I was up. And suddenly, I was terrified.

There was no snooty French model to nudge me onto the runway, but I felt the cue in the music and began to walk. My first step was a little wobbly, but when I got into full view of everyone on the runway, I was overwhelmed by how incredible I felt. And then I just let go. In a blinding flash of lights, I somehow made it to the end of the runway.

“Essence,” I said calmly, evenly, in a voice that didn't match how jittery I'd been feeling seconds earlier. The flashes from the photographers popped even brighter in my eyes, and I did my best not to break into a crazy grin. And when a large section of the crowd burst into a cheer, I looked over and could make out the faces of my family, all sprung from their seats and clapping. I was so excited to see them that—I couldn't help myself—I gave a little wave. It may not have been the most professional model behavior, but let's face it, as fun as this had been, I made a better field hockey player—and a better sister and daughter and friend—than I did a model any day. I didn't have to be able to see my mother's face clearly to know that she was crying.

Backstage again, all my friends were caught up in a
wave of frantic hugs and kisses. There were choruses of “You walked so well!” and “No,
you
did!”

Jade was beaming.

“You did a fantastic job,
chérie
,” I said, giving her the double cheek kiss.

“I couldn't have done it without your essence,” she said, air-kissing each of my cheeks twice—the ultimate display of French approval. “Shall we enter the throngs of the public eye to be showered by praises? That is always my favorite part.”

The main hall was crawling with journalists, photographers, and news crews. I posed for a few pictures with Jade and with my teammates, but mostly, I was looking for my family and my friends.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait too long to find the Floods. All at once, four massive bouquets of roses came at me and, above them, I found the beaming faces of my parents and my siblings.

“You were wonderful, darling,” my mom said with a huge smile. “We have to run to make dinner reservations, but we'll see you at home later.”

Feb even took off her headset to say, “Jade told me how clutch you were, Flan. I must say, I taught you well.”

“Thanks, Feb, I learned from the best.” I grinned and turned to Patch. “Aren't you supposed to be in the Czech Republic?”

“Not till tomorrow,” he said, giving me a hug. “Rumor has it you've been rocking the student body at Thoney.”

“Where'd you hear that?” I asked.

Patch stepped aside and put his arm around Shira Riley, who looked a whole lot less intimidating now that she was smiling at me with my brother's arm around her waist.

On the other side of Shira was Anna Altfest, who leaned in for a cheek kiss and said, “Congrats, babe. It's about time someone took a stance on those hideous hockey uniforms. You guys are going to look so great out there. Spence won't have a chance.”

“Thanks, Anna,” I said. “Thanks, everyone.”

Seeing Anna made me realize that, as psyched as I was to have my family's support, there was still one other person I was holding out for tonight.

“Hey, Anna,” a guy's voice from behind her said. “I barely get enough time with this girl as it is. Think you could quit hogging Flan for just a second?”

“Alex,” I said, not even trying to rein in my huge smile. “You made it.”

“Yeah, well.” He looked down at the ground. “I was never
really
going to miss it. Just kinda had to keep you guessing,” he said. “You know, Guy Rule Number One.”

“I thought you didn't believe in rules,” I teased.

“Some things are worth following the rules for,” he said, giving me a hug. “That is, if you really want them. Now check out what's developing over there.” He pointed behind me to the short staircase leading up to the stage where Xander was chatting up Camille. He must have been saying something hilarious, because she was totally cracking up.

“Could either one of them be more beet red?” Alex asked me, laughing.

“Definitely not,” I said. Just then, the lights in the drill hall slowly came up to coax everyone outside. “Thanks for bringing Xander along,” I said as Alex helped me into my coat.

“Sure,” Alex said. “I'd like to say it was hard work and that you owe me big time, but really, it wasn't that tough to convince him. All I had to do was mention Camille's name.”

The crowd was gathering outside on the freezing January street.

“So what are you up to now?” Alex asked. “No more big plans for tonight, I hope?”

“Actually,” I said, “it turns out I have to put in one more crazy night preparing for Virgil tomorrow, but after that …” I trailed off.

“After that …” Alex paused. He smiled at me. “Are
you saying that after you do whatever secret Virgil planning you have to do tonight, and after the big event tomorrow … are you actually suggesting, Flan Flood, that I might get to hang out with you?”

I laughed. “That might be what I'm saying.”

“Well, then,” Alex said, tossing his scarf around his neck and putting up his hand to hail me a taxi, “I guess I'll just have to wait one more night.”

A Special Late-Night Delivery

When the cab dropped me off on my stoop, I raced inside to see what kind of shape our kitchen was in for an all-night cooking affair. Luckily, the Flood household was spotless and—not surprisingly—empty.

I cranked up Morgan's CD, turned on some mood lighting, and made my slumber party specialty—popcorn mixed with M&M's and almonds. Ramsey and the girls were stopping by Zabar's to pick up supplies, so I figured if I were bringing a crew of midnight helpers over, I should at least give them the royal treatment.

When the doorbell rang, I stepped outside to let in Camille, Ramsey, and the rest of the field hockey team. Everyone had brought pajamas, and each girl carried a bag of groceries.

“Chef service!” Camille called out. “Sort of like room service, except you have to do all the work.”

“Thank you guys so much for coming over,” I said, showing everyone inside. I was just about to shut the door when I saw three more figures approaching my stoop. As they climbed up the stairs, I realized it was Harper, Amory, and Morgan, each carrying a bag of groceries.

“We heard you were catering Virgil yourself,” Harper said, shaking her head. “Have you ever heard of taking it easy?”

“Seriously,” Amory agreed.

“I don't cook,” Morgan admitted. “But I will late-night DJ to keep the troops energized for the long haul.”

“The more the merrier.” I laughed. “And we can definitely use a DJ.”

“Okay, team,” I heard Ramsey call out from the kitchen. When I led Harper, Amory, and Morgan inside, she was sitting on the counter with a clipboard in her lap. “Let's huddle up and talk strategy.” Apparently, Ramsey was as unstoppable in the kitchen as she was on the hockey field. “We'll have four stations: appetizers, salads, mains, and desserts. We'll divvy up the ingredients, make menus, coordinate oven times, and make this thing happen. Are you with me?”

And so, at ten thirty on Thursday night, twenty
exhausted girls huddled up, and not even Camille groaned about the strategizing.

Within minutes, my kitchen, which had never in its life seen so much action, was transformed into a serious work zone. A cloud of flour rose up over the dessert section as the girls set to work cutting out pastry shells for fruit tarts. Ramsey stood on her tiptoes and oversaw the glazing of the teriyaki tofu. Camille demonstrated the best way to seed the tomatoes for her famous bruschetta. Harper pulled out some amazing skills toasting nuts for the salads she'd decided we would serve in coffee cups. Morgan donned a large pair of Patch's DJ headphones and pumped us up by mixing some energetic techno beats. And I took breaks from my role assisting Camille on the garlic chopping and walked around the kitchen holding out the bowl of magic popcorn to anyone who needed an extra boost.