The Diamonds (30 page)

A few months before, the idea of inviting Darcy McKibbon into my home would have made me gag. Now I was actually sort of glad to see her.

“Come on in,” I said.

“Your room is really nice,” Darcy said, tossing her sleeping bag onto my floor and placing her pillow on top of it.

“Thanks.”

“Eet reminds me of my old room in Paris,” Monique said longingly, running her fingers across my bulletin board and studying a few of my pictures. They were mostly of me and Anderson, but there were still a few of the Diamonds I had never taken down, and even one of Jed. I hoped Darcy didn't notice. “Before it burned down, of course,” she added.

“I was thinking we could all go to the Ghost House,” I said, gauging their reaction. I wasn't sure if either of them had ever been.

“Do you think we should?” Darcy asked.

“Why not?”

“It wouldn't be dangerous for us to, you know, be seen together?”

Up till now, the Stonecutters had been incredibly careful about keeping our distance from one another in public. Groups of two were okay, but the three of us—plus Jenny—could arouse suspicion.

“I doubt the Diamonds will be going out the night before the show,” I said. Darcy's instincts were right, technically, but I
so
wanted for everyone to have a good time. We deserved it. “Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

The Ghost House was packed. No surprise there. We found a table for four in the corner and sat down. Jenny texted me that she was on her way over. The atmosphere was loud and dark and everything smelled like chocolate. I wanted an Iced Blaze like nobody's business.

Monique took a cigarette from her purse and put it between her lips. I'd made her leave her beret at my house; her hair, brown and shiny, fell past her shoulders and looked great.

“I don't think you can smoke in here,” Darcy said, pointing to a
NO SMOKING
sign on the wall.

“Oh, eet's not real,” Monique said, snapping the cigarette in half. “Eet's candy.” She popped one half into her mouth and gave the other half to me.

“Thanks,” I said, following her lead.

A waiter I didn't recognize came and took our orders. A band I had seen before—the Tea Party—was setting up on the stage. I didn't recognize anyone from school, which was a good thing, and the three of us were having a fantastic time. When Jenny showed up, we gave her a candy cigarette and ordered two brownies to share.

“What do you think the boys are doing?” I asked before taking a bite of the brownie.

“Who knows?” said Darcy. “Probably talking about politics.”

“Or listening to show tunes,” Jenny said, removing some of her eye shadow with a wet napkin. “Boyd's probably choreographing a dance for all of them.”

“I'd pay good money to see that,” Darcy said, laughing. I had never heard her really laugh before, I realized.

“Maybe they are all on skateboards,” Monique said. “Eet would be
grand
if they were, no?”

I tried to picture Jed on a skateboard. “I doubt it,” I said.

“I hear you've gotten pretty good,” Jenny said, taking a sip of my drink. “At least, that's what Turbo says.”

I had been practicing with Turbo two or three times a week; I'd reached the point where I could get on a board without falling down immediately, but I would hardly say I was
good
.

“Turbo's a liar. You should see
him
skate. He's amazing. I look ridiculous.”

“You have to start somewhere,” Darcy said.

“True. Anyway”—I turned to Jenny—“how was rehearsal?”

Jenny relaxed into her chair. “Crazy. You should see some of the outfits I'm wearing.” She shook her head. “I'm just glad it will all be over tomorrow night. Then I can get back to my former life.”

You know how it is when someone says something you already know but hearing it out loud makes it suddenly (and overwhelmingly) real? That was how I felt when Jenny finished speaking. The next day, everything the Stonecutters had been working toward the past few weeks would be realized. The Diamonds would be exposed, and there would be no need for a secret revolutionary group.

What would happen to us when this was all over? Would we remain friends? Was that even really what we were?

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said behind me. “Look who decided to show their busted dog-faces.”

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Clarissa.

I glanced over my shoulder. Slowly. There she was, in a light green sweater and a tight pair of jeans. Her hair was wild and fierce as shit. Priya and Lili stood behind her, trying their best to look menacing. Arlene cowered behind them.

“I didn't realize the Ghost House served butt-fugly whores who have no self-respect or fashion sense,” Clarissa said. Her eyes swept across the table. “I'll have to speak with the manager. Let him know what kind of riffraff are tainting his establishment.”

“It's such a shame, too,” Lili said, staring directly at me. “This place used to be so …
classy.”

Ouch
.

“Now it's just trashy,” Priya said, reaching over and grabbing a chunk of brownie off my plate. “Are you going to eat this?”

The table had suddenly gotten extremely quiet. Monique stared at her hands while Darcy avoided making eye contact with anyone. Jenny sat uncomfortably still. It was up to me to say something; that much I knew.

“Why don't you just leave us alone? There's no reason for this night to get ugly.”

“Oh, it's already ugly,” Clarissa said. “I mean, how could it not be? The three of you are here.” She then directed her attention to Jenny. “You really shouldn't be sitting with these losers. Come with us. We have a table in the back.”

Jenny looked at me for instructions. I couldn't say
much of anything with the Diamonds present. I took a sip of my Iced Blaze and stirred it with my spoon. “Go if you want,” I said casually. “I don't care.”

“You
don't
need her permission,” Priya said. “It's not like anything Marni says actually matters.”

I wasn't surprised by the Diamonds’ meanness. I expected it. But there was only so much I could take. “Go,” I said to Jenny. “It's fine.”

“No,” Jenny said, shaking her head. She looked a tiny bit nervous, I thought, the light from the candle on our table causing shadows to flicker across her face. “I'm fine here, thanks.”

A cough escaped from Lili's throat. “What did you just say?”

“I'm fine here,” Jenny repeated. “So … thanks, but no thanks.”

“Whatever,” Clarissa said with a shake of her head. “You just made a really big mistake. Huge, actually. Let's go, ladies.” She snapped her fingers and Arlene straightened her back, as if she were a marionette. Priya gave me the finger and Lili walked across the room to sit on a black couch with silver pillows.

“You should've gone with them,” Darcy said once they were gone. “They're really pissed.”

Jenny shrugged. “Who cares? You couldn't pay me to sit with them. Not in a million years.”

“You are so brave,” Monique said, fanning herself with a napkin. “Like Joan of Arc. But not such a dyke.”

“I'm sorry about that,” I said. Even though it wasn't my fault that Clarissa was such a bitch, I
did
feel
responsible for getting Darcy, Monique, and Jenny involved in this whole mess. They didn't deserve the Diamonds’ wrath; they hadn't done anything wrong.

“Do not apologize to us,” Monique said. “Eet is completely unnecessary.”

“Clarissa wouldn't have made fun of you like that if you weren't sitting with me,” I said. “If you guys want to leave right now, I don't blame you. It was a bad idea to come here.”

“Nobody is going anywhere,” Darcy said, looking around the table. “Right? That's what friends are for.”

Friends. Monique, Darcy, and Jenny. They couldn't have been more different from the Diamonds. But “different” didn't mean bad. It simply meant different.

“Right,” Jenny said, taking my hand. “After the fashion show, everything will change. Now, let's order another brownie. Or two.”

“Or four,” Darcy said.

I smiled. “Okay.”

Then I had an idea.

“Be right back,” I said, getting up from the table and heading toward the bar. A guy in his twenties, with crazy brown hair and tattoos up and down his neck, was at the cash register.

“How can I help you?”

“See those girls”—I pointed at Clarissa, Lili, and Priya—“over there on the couch?”

They were impossible to miss. They were the most glamorous people in the entire place.

“What about them?”

“I'd like to order them drinks.” I rattled off their standard coffee orders and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “We're sort of in a fight and I want to make amends. Could you just say it's a peace offering?”

The guy nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

“Thanks.”

I walked back to my table and sat down, two additional brownies in hand.

“What was that all about?” Darcy asked.

“You'll see,” I said between bites. “Are you guys almost ready to leave?”

“Eet seems like you are in a hurry,” Monique said. She was about to say something else when the barista caught her attention; he walked past us with the Diamonds’ drinks on a large brown tray. We all watched as he set them down, whispered something to Clarissa, and pointed at me. I gave a little wave.

They were obviously confused about why I would buy them drinks when they'd just been so nasty to me. I didn't blame them. I was too far away to hear their conversation, but when Arlene—who was perched on the edge of the couch—frowned, I knew that Clarissa was going to make her taste everything. Talk about paranoid.

“You didn't put anything in the drinks, did you?” Jenny asked. “I mean, I wouldn't care if you did. I'm just wondering.”

“Give me a break. I'm not evil,” I said. “But I may have forgotten to tell the barista to use soy milk. And I may have specifically asked him to use cream.” I let the
information sink in before continuing. Clarissa's lactose intolerance was as legendary as her shoe collection.

Darcy's eyes widened. “You
are
evil,” she said, “and brilliant.”

I shrugged. “All in a day's work. Now, don't stare.” I watched as Arlene tasted all the drinks. I was counting on her
not
to notice the cream in Clarissa's coffee. It took what seemed like forever for her to sample each cup.

“Eet is the worst kind of sabotage,” Monique said, giggling.
“Sacrebleu!”

For whatever reason, Arlene failed to notice the dairy in Clarissa's drink (or maybe she
did
notice and kept quiet? I'll never know) and gave her approval. I watched as the Diamonds drank and gossiped, tossing glances my way every so often until they stopped caring.

“Okay,” I said, turning to the Stonecutters and initiating our exit. I tossed some money onto the table and they each followed suit. “Let's get out of here before the shit hits the fan.”

Darcy laughed. “Literally.”

That night, underneath my covers, I thought about the prank I'd pulled on Clarissa and how she was probably cursing me at that very moment. Did I care? No. Yes. Maybe a little. I thought about the girls in my room and how incredibly random and wonderful they were. It was Darcy in her sleeping bag on my bedroom floor—not Priya. Monique curled into a ball near my door—not Lili. And Jenny Murphy was using one of my
pillows. Not Clarissa. The next day, at the fashion show, the Diamonds would chip and break; they would be seen for who they truly were and for the awful things they had done.

I just hoped that after all this I would finally be happy.

The next morning, I met Tommy in our usual spot at school: the technology room. The girls were going to sleep in and miss first period; Darcy was driving them to school.

I brought coffee—Tommy liked his black—and sat down on a stool next to him. A bunch of notepads were spread out in front of him. There was a lot to go over before that night. His hair was sloppy and the circles underneath his eyes were darker than usual.

“How was last night?” he asked.

“Oh, it was fun,” I said, tearing open the plastic lid on my coffee and taking a sip. “We ran into Clarissa.”

“How was that?”

“Let's just say she probably had a rough morning.”

Tommy chuckled. “Sounds more eventful than our night. Boyd swiped a few beers from his dad and we drank a little. He passed out before nine, though—total lightweight.”

“How was Anderson?” I asked. Every girl wanted her boyfriend and her friends to get along, and I was no exception. “Did you two make nice?”

Tommy scratched his chin. “Sure, yeah. We had
fun. He left early, though. Said he wasn't feeling well. Is he sick?”

Was he? I had no idea. The last I'd spoken to him, aside from a few text messages, was the night I'd practically thrown myself at him and he'd left me alone, in my backyard, staring at the stars.

“I think so,” I said. “He hasn't been acting like himself lately.”

I didn't run into Anderson all day. He wasn't in art class, and by seventh period I was starting to get really worried. But then, on my way to calculus, someone grabbed my arm and I could tell from the gentleness of his grip that it was my boyfriend.