The Diamonds (10 page)

This being my first sing-along, I wasn't exactly sure what to do. Where were all the booze (not that I wanted any) and the drugs (not that I wanted any) and the make-out sessions (which maybe I wanted but only with one boy in particular)?

“Do you like Duncan?” Clarissa whispered.

I had to admit he looked sexy in his over-the-top getup. “He's cute,” I said, hoping Clarissa would leave it at that.

She, of course, did not. “How cute?”

“I don't know, Clarissa. Cute.”

“Uh, guys?”

Clarissa and I broke from our mini conversation at the sound of Duncan's voice. “I can hear you,” he said. “I'm standing right here, you know.”

“Are you still dating that sophomore?” Clarissa asked, not the slightest bit fazed. “Rebecca?”

“Nah,” he said, pulling at the bottom of his lederhosen to stop them from riding up. “Not anymore.”

“Good.” Clarissa opened up her purse and took out a pen. It was pink and covered in rhinestones. “She looked like she had palsy.” A few quick scratches and I realized she'd written
my
phone number on his hand!

“There you go, Duncan. Don't sweat too much.”

“Is this your cell?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, tossing the pen back into her purse. “It's Marni's. She's single now.”

“Clarissa!”

“Don't call after ten,” Lili added. I shot her a quick glance—the traitor! “Marni likes to get her beauty rest.”

Priya, who had returned with the tickets, added nothing, choosing instead to make the “Suck It” sign with her hands.

“You don't have to call,” I said, trying to seem as apologetic as possible while still looking desirable. “Really.”

Duncan scratched his chin and looked at me. It was the kind of look that meant he was trying to size me up, and by “size me up,” I mean size up my boobs.
He really is handsome
, I thought, but there was no way I'd ever date him. He was Anderson's best friend.

“It's cool,” Duncan said, mustering a smile.

Then I heard it. Him. “Yo, here are the tix,” the voice said, low and husky, thrilling and divine. Anderson. Dressed in a snug pair of brown lederhosen, calves bulging, his white shirt open to reveal a tan, smooth chest.

“Oh,” he said when he saw Clarissa, Lili, Priya, and me standing there. “Hi.”

“Hello, Anderson,” Clarissa said as though saying his name took a great deal of effort she didn't care to exert.

“How are you?” he asked. While the question was technically directed at Clarissa, it felt like he was asking me, too.

“Fine.” Clarissa brought her arms in front of her chest and clasped her hands, one of her signature moves to show off her boobage. (I used it, too, sometimes, with less success.) “You?”

“Good,” he said reluctantly.

Since their breakup, Anderson and Clarissa's conversations had pretty much all been like this: short, tense, awkward. I'd never really understood why; Clarissa was the one who'd dumped
him
, and she acted as if it were the most devastating breakup in the History of High School.

Usually, I didn't pay much attention to their infrequent interactions, but now—oh, but now!—I hung on to every word Anderson said like rungs on a ladder, trying to detect some cryptic message that meant
Marni, I'm in love with you
.

“Well, it's been
really
great catching up.” Clarissa gave Lili a nudge and opened the lobby door. “But we don't want to miss our tea with jam and bread, if you know what I mean.”

Anderson turned sideways, patting his boys on the shoulders. “Let's go inside,” he said. “Bye.”

About halfway through “My Favorite Things,” when dogs were biting and bees were stinging, I had the sudden urge to flee. Not from the Nazis, though. Just outside.

“I'll be right back,” I said, although over the sound of the music (no pun intended), no one could really hear me. “I have to pee.”

Outside, it was raining—just my luck. The roof had an overhang, though, so I wasn't getting wet. I walked a little farther, ducked behind the corner, and leaned against the rough concrete of the building. How had life become so complicated?

“Hey there,” said a voice. I immediately felt my heart leap. “Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous for a nun dressed like that to be out by herself at night?”

Anderson.

In his lederhosen.

Talking to me.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked. Had he been about to ask me the very same question?

“I'm not exactly the hugest fan of musicals. Well,
movie
musicals.”

“The Sound of Music
is a classic.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, walking closer. “How've you been?”

I wanted to say:
Lonely
.

I wanted to say:
Confused
.

What I said was: “Oh, you know. Fine.”

“It's been a crazy week,” he said, sliding next to me and pressing his back to the wall. He was so close I could hear the rise and fall of his chest and the sound his lederhosen made when he shifted his legs.

“So, what's this I hear about you giving Duncan your number?” He frowned. “You never gave it to
me
.”

“First of all,” I said, “I didn't give my number to Duncan. Clarissa did. And second of all… you never asked for it.”

“I'm asking for it now.”

“Maybe I don't want to give it to you,” I said, looking into his eyes. They were copper and gold and green and, most of all, blue.

My knees felt like rice pudding, and the wind gusted around us, spraying a few droplets of rain into my face and onto my neck. Anderson moved closer, his nose practically touching my cheek, his breath warming my entire body.

“Marni,” he whispered.

There were tingles up and down my arms, and I thought a million things all at once.

Does he like me?

Is he going to kiss me?

Will I let him?

Do I have a Listerine strip?

Anderson was so close that he couldn't move any closer. One push and he'd be on top of me, up against me on the wall. Covering me entirely.

I tried to focus on his face, but all I could see were the muted light from the parking lot and the dark sky and his skin, his lips, his teeth, his eyes. Everything about him overtook me. I had to blink to make sure he was really this near and it wasn't a cruel trick of my imagination.

He touched my arm and my body surged, like a waterfall, as if every tiny thing inside me was rushing together in one huge jolt. “Just kiss me,” I said, grabbing his lederhosen and pulling him to me. I felt his stomach pressing up against me. Then his lips were on mine, rough and soft and sweet and full. It felt as though everything, every question, was buzzing on the very tip of my tongue, waiting to explode. He kissed me harder and my face was wet from the rain but I kissed him back, and I moved my hands into his hair and he slipped his fingers down my sides, my back flat against the wall, our legs intertwined. I never wanted to stop kissing him. I never, ever did. He tasted like beer but it was a wonderful taste, really, and when I opened my eyes, Anderson was staring right at me.

Before I could say anything, what he said in his low, husky voice was “I guess I should tell Duncan not to call you, huh?”

For some reason Duncan made me think of Clarissa, my best friend, who would never do anything to hurt me and would be devastated if I ever told her what I had just done.

I held on to Anderson with both hands. This moment, I thought, in all its fragile glory, had been a wonderful mistake.

In Suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved …

—The Seventh Amendment
to the United States Constitution

On Sunday afternoons, the Diamonds brunched at Bistro, an adorable pseudo-French restaurant in the fancy shopping center near Clarissa's house. Not only was the décor welcoming—high ceilings, oak-paneled walls, ceramic jars labeled
Moutarde
, and tables far enough apart to ensure our utmost privacy—but there were free refills on all drinks, including iced coffee.

This Sunday, though, was different from all the rest: I was thinking about Anderson. About the way he'd kissed me, what—if anything—it meant, and how soon we could do it again.

“And then I was like, ‘I'll have
one
percent, please.’” Priya opened her eyes so that her lashes touched her forehead. “I mean, do I
look
like I drink whole milk?”

Priya was heavily makeupped that day, as usual, her lips doused in a color she called sluttycappuccino. (As
far as I know, it was actually called mocha. “But when I wear it, I feel slutty,” Priya told me while sampling the lipstick at Macy's. “And like I wanna have a cappuccino.”)

Lili kicked me underneath the table. “That's aw-ful,” I said.

“I know. And
then
I was like, ‘I'll have it with
Equal
, please. Not
Splenda.’
”

“What's the difference?”

Priya sighed heavily. “I don't like that kind of joke, Marni.”

Lili finished her iced tea in a long, clean gulp and held out her glass for another. “Can we change the subject?”

We didn't have to. Clarissa chose that moment to slide into her seat—which had, of course, been left empty—and take a sip of my Diet Coke.

“Hi, girls,” she said casually, glancing at her cell phone. Brunch was always at eleven-thirty, and that never changed. It was something we just
knew
, like E = mc
²
or cowboys = gay.

“Where were you?” Priya asked, pouting. “You're late.”

I wondered if Clarissa could see right through me, if she could tell that I'd kissed Anderson—and not only kissed him, but
kissed
him—behind the megaplex.

“Whatever,” she said, turning to me. “Did he call you yet?”

Clarissa's question startled me and I banged my knee against the edge of the table. “Did
who
call me?”

“Duncan,” she said, stabbing her fork into one of my potatoes. “Who did you think I was talking about?”

With a sigh of relief, I remembered everything that had happened
before
Anderson had kissed me. “No, he didn't. Thankfully.”

“Marni, this would be a good thing for you. Duncan is really sweet.”

“Last year, in April, he told me I looked nice,” Priya said, twirling the ends of her dark hair with her fingers. “It was a Tuesday.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course,” Priya said. “I always remember Tuesdays.”

“Don't worry,” said Clarissa. “I'll talk to Duncan to morrow. I'm sure he's simply intimidated”—graceful hand flourish—“by your overwhelming beauty.”

“Whatever,” I said. “I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

“Not true,” said Clarissa. “Besides, I hear he has a really long …
tongue.”

Gross.

“But if you don't want me to say anything, I'll have the Professor do it.”

Fact: The Professor is a nickname Clarissa uses for Lili. It's pretty self-explanatory.

“Absolutely,” Lili said. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.” I wished I could explain that I didn't want any of them to speak to Duncan for me because I
wasn't interested in him; I was interested in his best friend, the one boy who was off-limits. Then I thought of that Shakespeare line: “The lady doth protest too much”
(Hamlet
,1599-1601), and realized it
did
seem a bit odd that I wasn't remotely interested in Duncan. Yes, Jed had dumped me, and
yes
, it was depressing and awful, but you only get to mourn for a short amount of time. I was kind of pushing it. Maybe if I at least
pretended
I was into Duncan, it would steer the Diamonds clear of any suspicion that I liked Anderson—at least long enough for me to figure out exactly what was going on between us.

“Fine. Say whatever you want to him.”

“So you
do
think he's cute!” Priya exclaimed, accidentally knocking the butter tray onto the floor.

Clarissa smiled victoriously. “Don't worry, Marni. We won't embarrass you.”

Too late
. Just then my train of thought was interrupted by our waitress. The fallen butter tray had no doubt garnered her attention.

“What can I getcha?”

I assumed she was speaking to Clarissa, the only one without a plate in front of her.

“Hulluh?” The waitress, whose face was caked in too-light foundation, eyes close together and dull as pennies, looked at me for help. She had wispy sideburns and an unfortunate snaggletooth. “Can I … help you?”

Clarissa slowly turned her head. “Yes?”

The waitress, whose nametag said
LADY
, popped her gum. “What can I get for you?” Every vowel she said came out long and sticky.

Clarissa waved two of her freshly painted nails in the air. “Where's Raymond?”