Spoiled (28 page)

“And what’s that? The unbearable heartbreak of not having your driver’s license? Cry me a river. Your mother is alive.”

“You’d never know it.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t have the guts to talk to her.”

“I don’t talk to her because she doesn’t give a shit about me!”

The words hung between them like skywriting, dissolving only at the air’s slow mercy. Molly backed up to her bed and sat down,
weaving her hands into her hair. She looked at a loss for words. Whereas Brooke suddenly found that she had too many.

“She knows where I am. It’s not like we moved. She just hasn’t bothered with me,” Brooke said bitterly. “But at least she
only left once. Brick leaves me every single day, whether he means it or not.
One
of my parents is supposed to want me, and if I don’t send those e-mails, at least I can pretend it might be her. But if I
do try to reach out to her and she ignores me anyway, well, then I’ve got nothing.”

Molly opened her mouth but Brooke held up her hand.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she insisted. “That I’m making this all about me, me, me, and I’m selfish and I’m a jerk,
and my parents aren’t dead and Laurel is, so I’m full of crap. If that’s what you think, that’s fine. But don’t shout about
how I don’t have feelings, because I
do
. You just never bothered to ask.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Molly said softly.

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Great, then, this ought to be classic. Let me have it.”

But Molly didn’t say a word. Instead, she got up, crossed the room, and—to Brooke’s everlasting shock—pulled her sister into
a tight embrace.

And then Brooke started to cry.

The way Brooke sniffled and snorted, Molly wondered if it had been years since this floodgate was last opened. She hung on
tight, as if to try to rein in the heaving, glad her instinct had been correct.

After a few minutes, the shuddering petered out and then stopped; all that was left was some muffled sniffs. Sensing a return
to calmness, Molly released Brooke and backed away, rubbing her face with emotional exhaustion.

“Well,” she said, flopping down on her bed. “We kind of made a mess of things.”

Brooke scraped a mascara stream off her face and nodded.

“What do we do now?” Molly wondered.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m tired.”

“Me, too.”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” Molly said quietly. “I just came here to have a parent again.”

“Well, there aren’t any around here,” Brooke muttered. “But it’s not your fault, no matter how much I wanted it to be. Daddy
means well. He just can’t see past his own damn veneers.”

“Well, they
are
pretty blinding.”

The girls swapped tentative smiles. For once, Molly didn’t see a spoiled, painted brat; just a kid trying to be seen. By anyone.

“Look, I want you to know that I wasn’t lying when I said that I didn’t leak that e-mail,” Molly said. “But… really, I might
as well have.”

Brooke crawled onto her bed and rested her cheek against her pillow, runny makeup making a Jackson Pollock painting out of
the frilly case.

“Shelby was over, and she wanted to use a computer, and I was too busy complaining about you to notice that she was using
yours,” Molly confessed. “I thought she’d done it by accident.”

Brooke just snorted.

“I know, I know.
Now
,” Molly said. “And in truth, I probably knew it then, but I didn’t care. And I should have. I’m sorry.”

Brooke wiped her eyes again and sat up.

“It really hurt,” she admitted. “I always act like I don’t care that my mom is gone, because I don’t want anyone looking at
me as anything but an awesome force of nature. And until up today, they did. All of them.”

Molly covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Brooke will be Brooke
.

“But none of this started with you,” Brooke added. “It’s about Dad and Shelby and—”

“It’s about all of us,” Molly said. “Things just went a little too far.” She paused. “And you
did
act like kind of a lunatic.”

Brooke grinned. “I have to say, I have never seen anything funnier than people’s faces that day I ignored you in the theater.
If I hadn’t been so freaked out I would’ve been
cracking up. Neil Westerberg seemed convinced I was about to snap and murder everyone.”

“That was
so uncomfortable
.” Molly half-groaned, half-laughed. “It wasn’t until right then that I was, like,
Oh, my God, she really
hates
me
.”

“It was more…” Brooke faltered. “Look, this does not extend to your bangs, which we have got to fix, but I think maybe I was
a tiny bit jealous.”

“Because of Brick?”

“In part. But more because of your mom,” Brooke said. “You have photos, you have stories. She thought you were the greatest.
Mine doesn’t even know what I look like now. And then Brick slobbered all over you worse than the time he found kale-flavored
protein powder. So I sort of… snapped.”

“Sort of? You stabbed a bonnet.”

“Accessories are always the first to suffer.”

“Ha! You kind of sounded like Brick just then,” Molly said. “And I have to admit, it feels nice that I know him well enough
to be able to say that definitively.”

Brooke stared off into middle distance for a spell, then cleared her throat.

“I really am sorry your mother is dead,” she finally said. “And that I made everything miserable for you.”

“It’s okay,” Molly said. “Well, it is now, anyway. Back then I was pretty excited about dropping shoes on your feet.”

“Well, at least one good thing came out of it,” Brooke
said, unfurling and moving over to her laptop. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re the next big reality stars in the
making. All these producers have been writing to tell me how you and I could make fifty grand an episode if we’d just let
them film us.”

“You mean, like
Keeping Up with the Kardashians
?”

“E! is calling it
Being a Berlin
.” Brooke snickered.

“I will become a Kardashian over my own cold dead body,” Molly said.

“This one is my favorite,” Brooke said, opening another e-mail. “ ‘We want to capture the excitement of the Berlin Babes’
every brouhaha, as a battle over the last of the breakfast cereal becomes a hair-pulling extravaganza, or the new Stella McCartney
dress is the prize at the end of the pillow fight.’ ”

“I assume that one is for the Playboy channel.” Molly laughed.

“Right? Gross. I am not
that
desperate,
thank
s.”

“Shelby Kendall would die.”

“Shelby Kendall
must
die,” Brooke averred, snapping her laptop shut.

Molly cocked an eyebrow.

“Of embarrassment,” Brooke amended. “I’m pissed, but I’m not homicidal.”

“I can’t always tell,” Molly said. “What is the real story with you two, anyway? Nobody will say, although Shelby did tell
me she sent you hemorrhoid meds.”

Brooke cocked her head. “Did she? Interesting.”

“Not true?” Molly asked.

“Half true,” Brooke said. “To be honest, I don’t actually know how this all started, either. We went to the same elementary
school, so we hung out sometimes when we were little. But then one night I remember Shelby’s mom showed up here really late,
and super drunk, and Dad told me I had to go upstairs.”

“Wow, soapy,” Molly said, intrigued. “Then what happened?”

“I never found out,” Brooke said ruefully. “Shelby switched schools. Then when we all started at Colby-Randall in ninth grade,
she showed up with a totally new face and a really bratty attitude. From day one she was out to get me and she never said
why. Like, she petitioned the student government to have my Drama Club disbanded for tax evasion.”

“That’s… creative.”

“I know, right? And then, I was about to start dating this one senior—he was so cute. His name was Brian. I think he ended
up going to Princeton. Anyway, he was totally on the hook until she stole my training bra during gym and hung it on his locker
with a sign that said ‘Missing: Brooke Berlin’s Breasts.’ Like I can help having small boobs. And then he asked her out instead.
So
I
sent
her
the medicine. It was all I could think of to get back at her.” She crossed her arms smugly. “It worked. He bailed. And that
was all just in the first two weeks of school.”

“That sounds so exhausting,” Molly said. “I don’t think
I have the endurance for all that stuff. I just want to be
regular
again.”

“And that is exactly your problem.” Brooke tsked. “We could be on the cover of
Us
if you’d just warm up to the idea of being famous.”

“We could also be on the cover of
Us
if I set your hair on fire.”

“Touché,” Brooke said. “But can’t we just have a teeny-weeny taste of revenge? Like, retribution tapas, or something? Shelby
screwed you over, too, by making you look guilty. She deserves to be punished a
little
bit.”

“Please don’t.” Molly groaned. “I’m sick of having a nemesis.”

“Really?” Brooke was shocked. “But on TV it gets huge ratings.”

“Really,” Molly insisted. “Promise me you won’t start anything again. You and I just need to get on with our lives.”

Brooke appeared to be fighting with herself for a second, then her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “Fine. You’re right.
I promise I won’t start anything.”

The girls lapsed into silence for a spell. Molly yearned to grab her phone and text Teddy or Max or Charmaine that a monumental
sea change was making her and Brooke Berlin act like sisters. Like friends.

Or she could text Danny. Him, too.

Oops
.

“
NOT BLOODY
LIKELY
.”

“Hmm. Try it on the last two words,” Molly suggested.

“Not
bloody likely
.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Molly affirmed. “You’re going to be funny.”

“I hope so. It’s only the most iconic line from the play.”

Brooke reapplied her lip gloss one last time as Molly parked in her usual spot. It had been mere hours since their denouement,
but so far, getting along had exceeded Brooke’s expectations—she definitely preferred a compliment as she arrived at school
to getting her hair stuck in the window because Molly closed it so fast.

Max caught sight of them as they climbed out of the Lexus.

“Hey!” she called out. “Is it World War III or can I put away my flak helmet?”

“Hello there, Maxwell,” Brooke said, flashing her most charming smile and nodding at Max’s hair. “I see your science fair
project is really coming along.”

“Almost as well as your lobotomy,” Max retorted with equal sweetness. Then she turned to Molly. “I can’t believe you missed
rehearsal yesterday. Jake Donovan tweeted afterward that it felt like being poked with something pointy and sharp—that’s got
to be about Jennifer, right? Pointy, sharp? Like her face?”

“Jennifer is my friend,” Brooke defended her.

Max looked guilty. Not
very
guilty, but enough.

“It’s okay,” Brooke shrugged. “I
told
her to do something about those teeth. A true friend never lies about dental needs.”

“There was this one part that was so funny. Jake said—”

“Brooke!” Jennifer shrieked from afar, grabbing Jake and dragging him across the lawn toward them. “Oh, my God. I cannot deal
with these actors by myself. Julie Newman’s British accent suddenly sounds Russian, and Jake here told me to shut up when
I explained to him that Freddy Eynsford-Hill has an iPhone,
but in his mind
.”

“Well, I don’t care what your acting coach says,” Jake frowned. “That sounds kind of dumb.”

“Because it is,” said Max.

“See?” Jake said. “Thank you, Mary.”

Max started showing great interest in the concrete beneath her feet.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, grabbing Molly by the sleeve and tugging her away.

Brooke flipped Molly a light wave, then corralled Jennifer and Jake and headed toward the main building. Groups of students
watched her with interest, tangibly tinged with fear, as if they expected her to explode and couldn’t decide if it was more
satisfying to stay away from the fray, or get close enough to it so they could captivate people with a war story later.

“The buzz around school is mixed,” Jennifer announced as they walked. “Some people are enjoying this, some feel sorry for
you, and a few are afraid this is only going to make you stronger.”

“Well, I think you’re brave as hell, Brooke,” Jake said, clapping her on the back. “Showing your face after that…”

“
Jake
,” Jennifer gasped.

“What? I just meant, she’s clearly been through a lot,” Jake said, with a shrug. “Man, I’m outta here. You are so not getting
a foot rub today.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Brooke called after him.

Jennifer smacked her.

“What?” Brooke protested. “He’s right. I am brave. In fact, this gives me an idea.”

She pushed open the doors to the school. As soon as
people saw her, the congenial din of student gossip tapered off into an uncomfortable silence.