Unfriended (9 page)

Ruth and her boyfriend, Andy, were sitting on the edge of the pool near the deep end, feet splashing in the water, holding hands. Ruth caught my eye and waved, and I smiled and lifted the hand that wasn’t holding Nate’s to wave back to her.

“I’m going to say hi to Ruth,” I said to Nate, who was looking in Dave’s direction.

“And I think I’m going to make the acquaintance of some pizza,” Nate said, gesturing to the table near Dave, where boxes from Putnam Pizza were stacked high. “I’ll save you some pineapple if they have it.”

I set down our stuff on one of the lounge chairs and headed over toward Ruth and her once and current BF. Ruth and Andy had dated last summer at Science Camp, but had lost touch when camp ended. But Andy had come back into Ruth’s life as a result of Promgate. I had asked Andy to be my impromptu prom date in order to get into Hartfield’s prom. And when Ruth and Andy had seen each other again, they had immediately reconnected and had been together since.

Andy glanced up as I approached, and gave me a small nod before blushing red and looking away quickly. Ruth knew why I’d bamboozled Andy into taking me to his prom, but Andy had never gotten the full story, and seemed to believe that I had wanted our date to be real and still harbored a crush on him. He was slightly jumpy around me, avoiding being alone with me at all costs, as though worried I was just lying in wait for an
opportunity to make my move. And he was even jumpier around Nate, rarely speaking to him or even making eye contact. I had told Nate all the details of Promgate, so he knew about Andy’s role. But Andy’s nervousness was probably the reason that the four of us still hadn’t ever managed to have a double date.

“Hi,” I said, approaching the two of them. I kicked off my flip-flops and sat next to Ruth on the edge of the pool, easing my feet into the just-heated-enough water.

“Hey,” Ruth said, smiling at me. “Glad you made it.”

“Good evening, Madison,” Andy said stiffly, looking at me for only a second before looking away again.

“So I see Tricia’s here,” I said as I looked across the pool where she was laughing with Schuyler and Lisa. She caught my eye and gave me a wave, and I smiled back before turning to Ruth.

“Sure,” Ruth said. “I mean, she’s on the Constellation feed, so she saw Dave’s invite.” She paused and looked at me closely. “You like her, don’t you, Mad?”

“Of course,” I said quickly. “She’s really nice.” Ruth was still looking at me closely, like she was about to say something else, so I turned to Andy. “Did you know her at Hartfield?” I asked.

Andy jumped, as though surprised to be spoken to directly. “Not really,” he said, mostly to the pool water. “I mean, she looks familiar, but I’m not sure. I was only there a few months before school ended, you know.” He looked up, and when he saw I was still looking at him, blushed again, then cleared his throat and looked away. “Wow, is that pizza?” he asked a little too loudly, getting to his feet and
hustling toward Dave. When he spotted Nate next to Dave, however, he veered sharply away in the opposite direction, and as a result, ended up standing by himself at the end of the pool. With an air of studied nonchalance, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts and looked up intensely at the night sky, as though a little stargazing had been his goal in getting up all along.

Ruth, watching him, shook her head. “Poor guy,” she said.

“We could tell him,” I suggested with a shrug. “Probably help lower his blood pressure a few points.”

“Yeah,” Ruth said, a little doubtfully.

“I know,” I said quietly, and we both looked at the water in silence for a moment. I had a feeling we were both thinking the same thing. Even though we had pulled off Promgate, any number of us could still get in a lot of trouble if the truth came to light. And the eleven of us involved had all decided that it would be best to keep what had happened between us, as we figured the more people that knew about it, the more chance there was about someone spilling the beans. Nate didn’t count. If anyone understood the importance of keeping secrets like this, it was him.

Though Nate had never admitted it outright to me, he had been instrumental in organizing his school’s senior prank—one that had been epic enough to shut Stanwich High down for three days. I had heard lots of stuff about it, and while it was hard to separate rumor from truth, it had been confirmed that it had involved both a streaker and a cow, and I just hoped the two hadn’t overlapped.
It had also involved stealing the mascot costume of Hartfield High, which, as far as I knew, had still never been returned.

Nate’s headmaster had gone on the rampage, threatening to expel anyone involved, and even cancelling the prom in a futile attempt to get the names of those guilty. Nate hadn’t been caught, and once he’d been able to graduate without a problem, I could tell that he’d relaxed a little. But the fact remained that he wasn’t entirely out of the woods yet. He didn’t want to raise any suspicion by actually asking what the protocol was, but he’d told me he was worried that if Yale found out what had happened, his acceptance might still be revoked. So I didn’t have to tell Nate how important it was that nobody find out what had actually gone on at my prom.

As I looked around the party, I realized that most of those in attendance had played some role in Promgate. And it seemed like everyone would have something to lose if the truth came out. From Ginger, who was determined to get a scholarship to RISD and needed an impeccable record to do so; to Brian, whose father was always a heartbeat away from sending him to military school, and really didn’t need any extra excuses.

“There’s still lots of pizza here, people!” Dave yelled, causing a stampede in his general direction.

I turned to Ruth. “Za?” I asked her, and she groaned, shaking her head.

“
Pizza
needs to be abbreviated?” she asked. “Really?”

“Oh, totes,” I said, pushing myself to standing.

Ruth laughed and stood as well, and Lisa and
Schuyler approached, accompanied by Tricia. As they got closer, I saw that there was something different about her makeup. I frowned and squinted, trying to get a better look.

“Hi, Madditude!” Tricia said with a smile.

“Hi,” I said automatically. She was close enough now that she was doing the exact same Swiftian cat-eye thing I’d started doing lately—but her eyes were done with a lot more skill. “Your eye makeup …” I began, not even sure where I was going with this, just that I was surprised to see it.

Tricia’s smile grew. “Do you like it?” she asked. “It’s just something I’m trying.”

I blinked at her, wondering why this sounded so familiar. “I do,” I said. “It’s …”

“Kind of like what you’re doing,
non?”
Lisa asked, shaking her head. “
Très
not French, you guys.”

“French women don’t wear eyeliner?” Schuyler asked, frowning. “Like, at all?”

“Well, historically,” Lisa started, and Ruth jumped in, perhaps sensing a long cultural lecture in the offing.

“I’m going to get some
za
,” Ruth said, heading toward the pizza table, and I saw Andy leave his stargazing position and walk over to join her.

“Me too,” I said as I headed for the pizza, crossing my fingers that Nate had, in fact, been able to secure me a slice of pineapple.

Three hours later, the party had more or less moved inside to the house. I’d had a slightly awkward moment
with Turtell when he’d started complaining that Kittson hadn’t been in touch at all lately, and had asked me if I’d talked to her recently. I didn’t want to tell him that his girlfriend had iChatted with me, but luckily, he—and everyone else—had been distracted by the sight of Mark’s attempt at a swan dive that had gone horribly wrong and turned into a belly flop. It had rendered Mark immobile for the rest of the evening, and he’d spent the remainder of the party lying faceup on one of the pool rafts and moaning softly.

The pool was mostly empty now, except for Nate and me—and Mark, whose stomach was still bright red and clashed with his plaid bathing suit.

“You ready for this?” Nate called to me from where he was bouncing on the edge of the diving board.

“Ready,” I called back from where I was treading water in the middle of the pool.

Mark lifted his head from the raft and whimpered when he saw Nate. “Don’t do it, man,” he said faintly. “You’ll regret it.”

But Nate just smiled and gave the diving board one more bounce before jumping off it, gaining an impressive amount of air, tucking into a cannonball, and landing in the pool with a splash that drenched me and set Mark’s raft rocking from side to side. I ducked under the water and smoothed my hair back. When I surfaced, Nate was swimming toward me.

“Nicely done,” I said as he reached me. He was tall enough that he could stand, and I swam closer to him and brushed his wet hair back from his forehead.

“Thanks,” he murmured as he ran his hand over my own hair, then down my mostly bare back. I rested my hand on his chest for a moment, and Nate leaned down and kissed me, his hands encircling my waist, sending my heart racing. Whenever we were swimming together—which didn’t actually happen that often, as neither of our houses had pools—I was always reminded by how much more
naked
you were in a bathing suit. There was just so much of Nate’s skin on display, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself from running my hands over his chest as we kissed.

We swam-kissed over to the side of the pool, my back resting on the cool tiles that lined the edges. I wrapped my legs around Nate’s waist, and he started kissing down my neck. I shivered, even though the night was warm and so was the water. I looked up and saw the stars, bright and clear above us, with the underwater lights of the pool all around us, and just reveled in the moment, and how perfect everything felt.

“You know,” Nate said, his voice low, a small smile taking over his face, “it’s a lovely night for stargazing.”

“I actually think Andy discovered that earlier,” I said, linking my hands behind his neck.

“And I bet that the stars are lovely at the Bluff,” Nate continued. He raised one eyebrow at me, and I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“Well, it
is
a lovely night,” I agreed.

“It sure is!” Mark chimed in as he floated by. I looked over at him, startled—I’d totally forgotten Nate and I weren’t alone in the pool.

“Think we should go?” I asked, and Nate nodded immediately. I unhooked my legs and stretched a toe down to touch the bottom of the pool.

“I’ll get our stuff,” he said, hoisting himself out of the pool and heading, dripping, toward the lounge chairs.

I swam over to the ladder and started to climb up it when Mark floated past again. “Hey, Mad?” he called.

“Yeah?” I asked, turning back to him and hoping he’d make it quick. When there was a Nate makeout session on tap, suddenly everyone and everything else just seemed like an intrusive, unnecessary interruption.

“That new girl who was here,” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the house.

“Tricia,” I supplied.

“Right,” he said. Mark started to sit up, then groaned and dropped back down again. “Do I know her from somewhere?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “I mean, she goes to Hartfield.”

“It’s weird,” Mark said. “Because she looks familiar.” His raft started turning away from me, and he stretched out his hands to paddle the water, trying to turn himself around, but actually managing to propel himself farther away.

I glanced back toward the house. Through the glass doors that led to Dave’s TV room, I could see the group playing Big Bass Champion—the game that combined Guitar Hero with Xtreme Sport Fishing. Most everyone was intently watching Brian trying to keep his balance on the rocking footpad—meant to simulate the movement of a boat—while simultaneously playing a
guitar solo. But Schuyler and Tricia were sitting apart, backs to the screen, talking and laughing. Schuyler had claimed that she couldn’t watch the game, as it violated her recent moratorium on anything boat related.

“She was probably at the Hartfield prom,” I said as I pulled Mark, who was drifting toward the shallow end, closer in. “And you and I spent more time there than anyone else.”

“Except Sarah,” Mark pointed out.

“Except Sarah,” I conceded. While Mark and I had been ducking in and out of the Hartfield prom, Sarah had spent her night in the thick of it, falling for her prom date. Sarah and Zach had been an item since then, and were going strong, despite the fact that she was in the Catskills working at a theater camp, where she was terrorizing children and forcing them to read Strindberg. I hadn’t heard much from her, except for occasional texts she sent me when she saw on Constellation that I was in the same area as Zach, and was worried I might bump into him without getting prepped.

Sarah and Zach had met as part of Promgate, when Sarah had delivered an unordered pizza to him. Zach had originally been Isabel’s prom date, and we had needed for him not to be Isabel’s prom date so that she could take Mark, who was pretending to be an earl. But to everyone’s shock, Sarah and Zach had fallen for each other for real. And now Sarah was worried that someone might reveal to her boyfriend the less-than-legit circumstances under which they had actually met.

I saw that Nate had gathered up our stuff and pulled
(darn it) his shirt on. He was talking to Dave near the edge of the pool, and he caught my eye and tipped his head slightly to the driveway. “See you, Mark,” I said, climbing the ladder the rest of the way.

“At the
Second
Concession Stand!” Mark called as he began to drift toward the shallow end again. “Don’t forget, okay, Mad?”

“I won’t,” I called to him. I toweled off quickly, pulled on my jean shorts and a tank top, and stepped into my flip-flops. Then I walked over to Nate and Dave, squeezing some excess water from my hair.

“I think you’re leaving because you can’t handle my mad skillz,” Dave said to Nate, arms folded across his newest ironic T-shirt. This one featured a long row of blond-haired people, and read
Finnish Line
. “You know you would lose in the Bass-Line showdown.”