Poor Little Dead Girls (6 page)

“American dudes. You know, meatheads.”

Sadie grinned. It was oddly fitting, especially considering every guy she had ever dated had a tendency to smell like bacon and barbecue sauce.

Trix tossed the dress on Sadie’s bed. “You’re wearing that. Trust me, guys don’t want a girl who looks like she’s about to go to church, and every single one of these uptight little American girls is going to be wearing a dress that looks just like that yellow sack. Now go shower. We’ll figure out what to do with that hair when you get back.”

Half an hour later she sat in her desk chair while Gwen fluttered around her, wrapping hunks of hair around a huge curling iron. Sadie brushed a stray strand out of her eyes, and Gwen smacked her on the shoulder.

“Quit fidgeting.” As Gwen picked up another lock and wrapped it expertly around the barrel, something occurred to Sadie.

“Hey, why are you guys here? At Keating, I mean. Wouldn’t you rather be at Eton or Oxford or one of those famous British schools?”

Gwen snorted. “First of all, Eton is a boys’ school and Oxford is a university. But we didn’t really have a choice.” In the mirror Sadie saw her eyes flick toward Trix, who was straightening her hair in front of the full-length mirror.

Trix turned to face them. “What Gwennie means is, we got kicked out of all the good schools in England, so Daddy sent us here to keep us out of the gossip rags and make sure we didn’t embarrass him anymore.” She shrugged and turned back to the mirror, but Sadie saw Gwen bite her bottom lip as she finished curling the last section. Gwen cocked her head to one side and stepped back.

“Not bad, right?” She looked back at Trix, who nodded in agreement.

“All right, bitches,” Trix said, running the straightener once more over her side-swept bangs then dropping it on the floor. “Time to get dressed.”

Once the blue dress was on — and fitting about ten times tighter than Sadie thought it would — Sadie blinked at her reflection.

There is no effing way that’s me.

Sadie Marlowe was messy and tomboyish and, as another year of swimsuit shopping had sadly confirmed just two months ago, still pretty flat. But the person in the mirror was none of those things. She was hot — and girly — and even her boobs looked bigger. Maybe fashion designers really were magical. It would explain how they had managed to convince people to wear shoulder pads.

Suddenly Sadie was nervous. “Listen, guys, are you sure you don’t mind me wearing your stuff? What if you want to wear this to one of the other dances or something?”

Trix rolled her eyes and Gwen started digging around in the bottom of her armoire. “Those dresses,” Trix said, nodding toward the rack, “are just what we packed for fall. Our stylist sends us a new collection every season.” Sadie’s shoulders sagged, and she made a mental note not to ask any more ridiculous questions.

“Two final touches, and you’re done,” Gwen mumbled, pulling out two handfuls and darting back across the room. She had a pair of black pumps that looked like high-fashion bear traps in one hand, and a glass bottle filled with dull, amber liquid in the other.

“Put these on,” she said, holding out the heels. She held up the bottle and smiled her crooked smile. “Two shots each, and then we’ll go?”

She uncapped the bottle and threw her head back, taking a huge gulp. She swallowed and shuddered slightly, then passed the bottle to Trix. She took a smaller sip, then grimaced. “Fuck, Gwennie, why do you always have to buy whiskey? It’s nasty.” She held the bottle out to Sadie and they both looked at her expectantly.

She froze. She had gotten drunk exactly once, but it wasn’t really an experience she was dying to replicate. Earlier that summer she and her friend Sarah had convinced Sarah’s older brother to buy them a big jug of cheap pink wine that tasted like rotten grape juice. They drank the whole thing, washing it down with a huge bag of popcorn and a couple
Diva Divorcées
reruns. They had felt great for about an hour, then spent three times that long puking it all up in the bathroom. But what the hell — it was just a few gulps.

She grabbed the bottle and both girls cheered. The liquid scorched its way down her throat, and she immediately started coughing. Trix just snickered as Gwen threw back another huge sip. They passed the bottle around the circle one more time, then headed down the hall to pound on Jessica’s door.

“I’m almost ready,” she called as Sadie pushed the door open. Jessica was seated at her desk, carefully applying lipstick in a little vanity mirror. “Sorry, I know I’m running late — Madison left, like, twenty minutes ago.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder.

“Holy crap, Sadie,” she squealed, jumping up from her seat. “You look awesome. You guys all do.” She hesitated, her face melting into a frown. “Do you think this is too casual? You look like you’re going to a movie premiere or something, and I look like I’m going to an ice cream social.” She put her hands on her hips. “Shit.”

Sadie looked at Jessica’s delicate floral strapless dress and nude wedges and smiled. She felt Trix’s elbow dig into her ribs and smacked her away, trying to hold in a giggle. “You look great Jess, seriously. Gwen and Trix just wanted to see if they could make me look like a girl for once. You ready to go?”

Jessica looked doubtfully at her reflection, then shrugged. She grabbed a little blue clutch from the bottom of her closet, stuck it under one arm, and led the way back out into the hall.

Outside, the afternoon sunshine slanted through the building’s tall columns and spread across the manicured lawn. The air was just the right temperature, and a slight breeze ruffled the hem of Sadie’s dress. For the first time since she had been at Keating, she felt a rush of happiness. Things were going to be okay here. She was going to make it.

They followed a brick path around the side of the building that led them out along the water and past a row of sandy dunes. A wave broke on the beach below them, and Sadie felt a faint spray of cool air.

They walked for about half a mile, the endless ocean on their right and dense forest on their left. The path was tightly packed gravel, and Sadie had to focus to keep from tripping in her torture traps. Ahead of them, a big group of freshmen walked with their arms linked, and wisps of laughter drifted back over their heads and down the path.

Even farther ahead, Sadie could see the old military tower standing guard along the water. It looked ancient, its ramparts beaten almost smooth by a hundred years of coastal winds. It was set far out on the water on a little spit of land, and the whole thing was covered with wet, spidery moss that seemed to choke more than cover. Sadie wondered if anyone ever went inside. For some reason, the thought made her shiver.

Before she could get any closer, Jessica turned left and followed a narrow path into the forest. They passed a sign that read “Cranston and Wimberley Athletic Complex,” with carvings of each of the two schools’ crests. Jessica busily explained to the twins that the two schools shared athletic fields, and the football stadium was located in between the two campuses. Sadie could tell she was nervous. She had barely stopped to breathe since they had left the dorm.

She could hear the band playing now, and familiar sounds drifted through the trees and drew them forward. Sadie thought about Friday nights at Portland South and felt another little tremor of homesickness. She and her teammates had always spent the game in the top row, away from all the smug football girlfriends who sat on the 50-yard line and proved ownership by wearing their boyfriends’ spare jerseys. It was so medieval, Sadie had always expected them to start tossing favors onto the field and calling for jousts. Really, they just spent the whole game gossiping and sneaking sips of marshmallow vodka from their enormous purses.

At Keating, things were a little different. The girlfriends were still there, but the stadium was huge, with neat brick bandstands instead of rickety metal bleachers. Vendors with trays of lemonade roamed the aisles, and beyond the freshly painted end zone was an ivy-covered field house that probably contained all of the team locker rooms. Above it was a digital Jumbotron that showed the tanned face of Graff’s quarterback in high-definition, each of his dimples at least a foot high. The field itself was an unnatural shade of bright green.

They walked toward the throng of students mingling on the sidelines as both teams warmed up on the field. Waiters in dark jackets circulated among the crowd, offering soft drinks to the students and cocktails to everyone else. All the Graff boys were in dress uniforms, and they looked eerily similar in their matching navy blazers, striped ties, and gray flannel slacks.

Before they had even reached the crowd, a cluster of senior girls lurched toward the twins, screeching compliments so loudly Sadie almost covered her ears. As the mob pulled them away, Trix and Gwen looked back and rolled their eyes. Sadie noticed they were both smiling, though. Widely.

Jessica made a choking sound that Sadie guessed was probably a laugh. “Guess Cromwell isn’t wasting any time this year.” Jessica pointed toward a group of men gathered a few dozen yards away. The headmaster had traded his snug suit for a smarmy velvet smoking jacket, and the glass he was clutching was filled almost to the brim with syrupy brown liquid. Two men that looked like clones of Ellen Bennett’s enforcers stood a few feet away from them, their wrists crossed and eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

“Who’s he talking to?”

Jessica squinted at the group. “The old guy is Sumner Cranston — you know, as in Wimberley and Cranston? He’s a senator or something, and the younger one is his son, Teddy. He’s a big deal too, even though he’s only like, forty-five. He’s President Manning’s chief of staff, and he knows, like, everybody in D.C.”

Sadie just nodded, choking back a fresh wave of panic. Jessica rattled off the titles of guys who passed by the Oval Office every day on their way to the bathroom like she was talking about the sixth-grade student council. She was never going to get used to that.

“The Cranstons have been rich since like, the Middle Ages,” Jessica went on, “so they do a lot of charitable stuff, too.” She waved a hand around. “They built most of this stadium, actually.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows. “You guys Facebook friends or something?”

Jessica snorted. “Thayer’s dating Teddy’s son, so she never shuts up about them.” She rolled her eyes. “The Wimberleys are rich too, obviously. They donated the money for the rest of this place.”

As Sadie watched the little group, Teddy turned his head toward them, sending a little jolt of electricity down the back of her spine. He murmured something in Cromwell’s ear, and then all three of them swiveled to look. Sadie nudged Jessica with an elbow.

“What?”

She pointed back toward the group, but the moment had passed. The men were talking with their heads bowed, and Cromwell was gesturing wildly with his glass. She watched as some of the liquid sloshed over the edge and onto the field.

“Oh I know — he probably started right after Chapel this morning. Now come on,” Jessica said, grabbing her arm and grinning as she pulled her toward the bleachers. “It’s time for your social debut.”

They found most of the team sitting in a lower section, sipping Diet Cokes and laughing with a group of guys in blazers. Brett introduced her to the Graff guys one by one, each of them standing up to firmly shake Sadie’s hand. Before she got to the last one, a tall guy who looked like he was probably born in tennis whites, Thayer popped up next to him and put a hand on his outstretched arm.

“This is my boyfriend, Phineas Everett Cranston the Fourth.” She emphasized the word “boyfriend,” tightly clutching his elbow.

Sadie shook his hand awkwardly, jostling Thayer’s claw up and down with it, and he smiled at her in a way that was almost a sneer.

“You can call me Finn.”

He casually knocked Thayer’s hand away, and it fluttered for a moment before settling on his shoulder instead.

“Finn’s the starting attacker on Graff’s team,” she said. “He’s already being recruited by Princeton, Virginia, and Harvard.”

“Wow, that is awesome,” Sadie said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I’m dying to hear from Virginia, but it’s hard to get scouted in Portland.”

The sneer-smile widened. “So you’re the transfer. We’ve been hearing about you for months.”

Thayer huffed out a little puff of air and started dragging him toward the aisle.

“See you on the practice fields,” he said, winking back at her as they walked away.

Sadie wrinkled her nose and turned back to Jessica and Brett. “Guys wink here?”

Brett grinned. “Not the ones you should pay any attention to. Just ignore Finn. He and Thayer have been dating since, like, eighth grade. Most of the other lacrosse guys are pretty okay, though.” Her eyes wandered to one of the dark-haired guys on the bleachers. He caught her eye and smiled.

“Like Josh,” she added, her cheeks flushing red. “He’s taken though, too.”

“Ohh, he’s cute,” Sadie said. “How long have you guys been together?”

“We just started before the summer, but it’s really going pretty well.”

Jessica grinned. “What she means is, she’s totally freaking in love with him and has been since freshman year.”

Brett started to scowl, then broke. “Okay yeah, she’s right. But quit jinxing it. I don’t want him to know that.”

Jessica looked at Sadie and made a face. “You’re lucky you weren’t here last season. He would wait for her outside the locker room like a preppy little puppy every day after practice. It was gross.”

Brett tried to look annoyed, but Sadie could see a smile creeping across her face. Her cheeks were almost as red as her dress.

“Okay fine, we’re a little clingy. But I think it’s romantic.”

“Whatever, I think that’s great. I’d love it if a guy did that for me,” Sadie said. “The only thing my ex did for me was meet me at my locker and try to grope me before lunch.”

Brett laughed. “Well that guy sucks. There are plenty of options around here, you just have to be able to weed out the jerks. For example — ” She pointed to a guy with brown hair and sunglasses, standing in a crowd of Keating girls. “Take Chip Jennings. He keeps a book in his dorm room with pictures — you know, pictures — of all the girls he’s hooked up with. If we ever catch you flirting with him, we’ll probably kick you off the team.”