All That Glitters (6 page)

“Jake Riverdale gave you this rock, SBB? It's the size of Delaware!”

“We had a tiff. He wanted to make nice. He said not to let the paparazzi see me with it on so they won't make a fuss, but
I
plan—wait, I'm getting distracted. I wanted to tell you what else my inner voice told me to do tonight.”

I nodded for her to go on.

“Dominick,” she called into a speaker on the console of the back seat. “We're ready.”

Through the glass pane separating the front seat from the back, Dominick passed back a familiar-looking white paper bag that I quickly realized came from one of my favorite places on earth.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

“Duh. I was making my daily run to Pinkberry and my inner voice told me to pick up an extra order for you as a ‘Welcome back to school' treat. I was going to call you and run it over on my way home, but then you beat me to it.” She passed over one tub of the frozen yogurt to me. “Cheers!”

As we dug into our green tea fro-yos topped with raspberries and Cap'n Crunch cereal, I decided to commiserate with SBB about the minor horrors of my day. By the time we'd wound our way through the downtown maze of traffic I'd finished my story, and SBB was nodding empathetically.

“Okay, here's what we do,” she said. “Divide these
issues and conquer. Pizza on the skirt—taken care of. The small embarrassment of the slip 'n' fall—everyone will have forgotten it by tomorrow … or least by next week. And props to you for being cool about it and not playing into their bitchy games. I sense some major karma bonus points for you there. Lots of people would have come back at Willa with an extra-large margherita pizza in the face.” She waved her spoon at me. “Next, the TZ-Kennedy thing…. Well, that's tricky. I'm going to need some time to think on that one. But as for your English class catastrophe—how about you just … abandon thy fear!”

“But how?” I asked. “Is it really as easy as ‘abandon thy fear'? I felt like a total idiot today, and what I
fear
is being a repeat offender of the crime of stupidity.”

“Not when you've got a friend like me,” SBB said, throwing her arms in the air and narrowly missing the ceiling. When she saw the confused look on my face she said, “Don't tell me you've forgotten so quickly?
Loan Shark of Venice Beach?
My steamy make-out scene with Penn? I'm basically a Shakespearean scholar.”

I laughed. “Actually, I think I was picturing your steamy make-out scene a little too much today. It sort
of took up all my brain power and prevented me from remembering the plot.”

SBB closed her eyes and smiled. “Mmm, yes, I know that feeling when it comes to thinking about Penn.” She opened one eye, a trademark SBB move. “Don't ever tell Jake I said that!”

I put my hands over my heart before eating another spoonful of yogurt. “Your secret's safe with me.”

“Phew. Okay. So listen, we'll tackle this Shakespeare stuff together. Oh my God, imagine me as someone's tutor! I've always wanted to play that role, all serious and academic and maybe wearing really severe glasses and a tweed blazer. For some reason, no one's ever cast me …”

She trailed off, and I realized that we were pulling up to my brownstone. As the Escalade slowed to a stop, SBB flung her arms out again and squealed.

“Oh my God, I almost completely forgot something of the utmost importance.”

I laughed—with SBB, this could mean anything from “I need a liver transplant” to “Built by Wendy is having a sale.”

“What's up?” I asked.

SBB peered into my eyes seriously and said, “I've have to go to the premiere of Jake's new film at the Paris Theatre next Thursday night, and I'm
panicked
.”

“Why?” I said. “It sounds like a blast. After all, the whole world's been waiting for the premiere of
Derelict Dudes
,” I teased.

“I know, I know,” SBB said, missing my joke about JR's upcoming Monster Truck movie. Then with a shudder, she said, “But
she's
going to be there and you know how I get.”

I knew
she
referred to SBB's nemesis, Ashleigh Ann Martin, and I knew
how I get
referred to the total freak-outs SBB had anytime she was forced to share the same red carpet as AAM.

“So.” SBB clasped her hands around mine. “Can I reserve you for the night? I have this awful premonition that AAM is going to pull a Kennedy and sabotage me. She's all about wardrobe warfare, but I'm onto her! I will not show up in the same outfit as that brain cell–challenged, rehabbing—”

“Do you need me to wait in the limo with a change of clothes, just in case?” I filled in.

SBB bobbed her head gratefully. “You're the best, Flannie. Now let's say goodnight in Shakespearean,” she coached.

“Um,” I said, racking my brain. “Parting is such sweet sorrow?”

“Exactly!” SBB clucked her tongue. “My first student—and she's learning so fast!”

As the Escalade started to pull away, SBB called out, “Don't forget about Thursday! Put it in the neutralizing magnetic Teslar day planner I bought you for Christmas!”

“I'm all yours,” I called back.

Just as I got inside my house, I felt my phone buzz inside my bag.

IF YOU'RE GOING TO FALL DOWN IN THIS CITY, I KNOW A MUCH BETTER PLACE TO DO IT. HOW ABOUT ICE SKATING AT WOLLMAN RINK WEDNESDAY AFTER SCHOOL.—ALEX

I felt a grin spread across my face. Hmm … wardrobe backup with SBB next Thursday, ice skating with Alex Wednesday. Looked like I'd be getting some use out of that Teslar day planner already.

The Virgil Virgin

The next morning, I woke up feeling a little bit more in the swing of things. I didn't short-circuit the toaster oven, so I actually got to have breakfast. I left on time and found a cab right on Perry Street, so I didn't have to book it to make the bell. And the sun was out, which made the cold air and brisk wind a whole lot more bearable.

But the best part of the morning was that when I walked into the library for study hall, I immediately honed in on the third table, and just like Camille had said, it was crammed with all my friends.

Camille stuck her arm in the air to wave. As I made my way toward the table, I realized that I already recognized a lot more faces than I had only yesterday.

“Hey, girl,” Olivia called out to me from one of the computer stations as I walked past. “Let's grab coffee sometime this week.”

“Totally,” I whispered back, noticing that the librarian was giving me the squint eye from behind her bifocals. “I'll text you, okay?”

At the next table, Ramsey was going over a math problem with a towheaded girl in a white Oxford shirt and a black cashmere vest. When she saw me walk past, she pointed her finger and said, “This is the Stuy transfer I was telling you about. We're on for practice tonight, right, Flan?”

“Totally,” I nodded. “Can't wait.”

Ramsey gave me a thumbs up. I returned the gesture, crossing my fingers that she didn't expect me to be some great, untapped field hockey talent just because I came from a school where other people played it well.

I was just about to sit down next to Camille when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find Shira Riley grinning at me. Shira was one of the most popular girls in the senior class. Camille had told me that she was suspended for a week this past fall after the dean got wind of Shira's role as ring-leader in the underclassmen hazing that went down during the traditional Thoney initiation the first week of school. She had a perfect body, hair that most girls had to pay hundreds of dollars for in Japanese straightening treatments, giant brown
eyes … and just a little bit of a history with my brother, Patch.

“Hi, Shira,” I said.

Standing in my living room eating ice cream with Patch, Shira had always seemed pretty cool to me. But standing here in the middle of the Thoney library with its unspoken social seating and the darting eyes of a hundred other girls, Shira looked every bit the part of Queen Bee.

“Hey, Flan,” she said, and then reached out in a surprise move to give me a big hug. I could almost hear the other freshmen girls around me gasp.

“Patch called me yesterday and told me that his little sis was starting up at Thoney. He made me promise to look out for you and make sure you're settling in okay.”

For a second, I was surprised that Patch had called all the way from Croatia. But then, it would be like him to make sure there were reinforcements to look after me when he wasn't around to do it himself.

“Yeah, he was on a train to Sarajevo,” she continued. “I don't know how he gets away with missing so much school! But the two of us should definitely join in on his spring break plans.”

“Totally,” I said, a little breathless.

“Fabulous.” Shira grinned and flounced back down the aisle toward the upperclassmen tables.

I took a seat between Camille and Harper, aware that many eyes were still on me after my tête-à-tête with Shira.

“Um, did Shira Riley just
hug
you?” Amory whispered over the top of her white fluffy Rebecca Beeson turtleneck sweater.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound like I hadn't been totally caught off-guard myself. “She went on a couple of dates with my brother.”

Harper's jaw dropped. She leaned over the mahogany table and hissed, “She blindfolded Anna Jacobs and made her stick her hand in the toilet to touch a peeled banana during Freshman Haze Week.”

Camille busted out laughing. “Omigod, is
that
why she got suspended? What a lame trick.”

“Kind of,” Harper said, but she was laughing, too. “I'm still scared of her.”

I cocked my head and looked at the table where Shira was sitting with her friends. Sure, they looked really cool and put-together, but they also looked like us, just a group of friends sitting around a table, laughing about some inside joke no one else in the world would find funny. I couldn't imagine myself ever hazing any underclassmen, but I did get this
weird momentary glimpse into the future—that in three more years, our table in the library might be one that looked just as intimidating to a group of new freshmen girls.

“She's not so bad, you guys, really,” I said. “Patch told her to look out for me. She said to let her know if there's anything I need.”

“Anything at all?” Camille asked, rubbing her chin and looking mischievous. “Why don't you ask her to make Willa stick her hand in a toilet?”

That mental image sent our whole table into hysterics, and we could barely pull it together even when the librarian came over with her finger over her lips to hiss us into silence.

When we'd finally quieted down and even opened a textbook or two, I looked up to see Mattie standing at the head of our table with a handful of square purple envelopes in her hand.

“Special delivery from the Student Senate,” she said, handing out heavy calligraphed envelopes to each of us.

“Ooh, do you think this is for the January Virgil?” Morgan asked, as Mattie turned on her heel and went on her way, distributing the envelopes to the rest of the girls in the library.

All five of us opened our envelopes and pulled out
slate gray invitations with cream colored ribbon tied to the top. An iridescent opal font spelled out the details of the first Virgil party of the semester, which would take place at the Central Park Boathouse a week from this Friday.

“Wait a second,” I said. “Virgil? Is this that oration challenge thing Thoney does with the Dalton boys?”

“Whoa,” Camille said. “Pulling out the Thoney tradition trivia. Did you get that from some old story Mama Flood told you about her days as a private school girl?

Harper folded her hands primly and put on her best debating voice. “Virgil
used
to be a night of debates between the guys and the girls. Everyone got all decked out and riled up to argue with each other. It was hot.”

“So hot,” Camille said, teasing Harper about her obsession with all things debate.

“But somewhere along the way,” Harper continued unaware, “the actual debating sorta fell by the wayside. What we do at Virgil now is—”

“Drink cocktails!” Morgan and Amory chimed in at the same time.

“
Virgin
cocktails,” Harper corrected. “But it's totally swanky and fun.”

“And the best part is,” Camille said, “one Thoney
girl gets to be the social director for each Virgil event.” She looked down at the invitation and read, “Nominations will take place this week, and the host will be announced on Monday.”

“And being host is a good thing?” I said, watching other clusters of freshmen around us whispering excitedly over their invites.

“It's, like, the hugest honor there is,” Harper said, looking serious.

“You're basically Miss Thoney of the month,” Morgan said, barely looking up as she flipped through
The Pulse
magazine.

“Flan,” Amory said, “you should totally run. You're the new girl, which makes you the ingénue. You have this air of mystique about you, and everyone will want to get to know you. This will be a great way for you to solidify yourself on the Thoney scene.”

“I don't know,” I said. “Wouldn't people rather vote for someone they know?” Hosting sounded like a lot of work. I'd planned some really fun parties in my day, but I was also totally down with being the girl who just showed up and had an amazing time.

Amory cleared her throat and nodded her head toward two tables over where Willa was sitting with Kennedy. “You mean like Willa? Queen Bitch over
there is class president and
thinks
she's going to win, but I personally
will not
be voting for her.”

“I second that motion!” Harper added, banging her Paul Frank glasses case down on the table like a gavel.