chapter thrity-four
I saw you on E! last night, Dad. How did the pitch go for the new show?” I lurch forward as my dad slams on his brakes for the zillionth time. New York City traffic—there's nothing like it. I'd rather drive behind a slow tractor in Truman any day over this madness.
He zips into the other lane and honking ensues. “I don't know. Budgets are tight right now. They're not sure if they want to invest in a new show about another high-profile plastic surgeon. I have another meeting with my agent today.”
Though she's seen it once, Lindy's nose is pushed against the window like she can't get enough of Manhattan. I know the feeling. It's like a new town every time you see it—even if you live here.
When we get to the house, Luisa crushes me in a hug worthy of a wrestler. “I've missed you, Isabella!” She pulls away, her pudgy hands clasping my face. “Let me look at you. Oh, Oklahoma agrees with you.”
“Do I smell homemade chocolate chip cookies?”
“Chips Ahoy! are for losers,” Luisa says, ushering the three of us into the kitchen.
“I have to get to my meeting. Here's my credit card.” Dad hands over his Visa. “Don't go crazy with it, okay?”
“We do have an Autumn Ball to crash. Might need to buy a dress or two.”
He kisses me on the temple. “I'll see you tonight.”
An hour later Lindy and I are in shopping nirvana.
Well, I am.
“No, Bella. I don't like the strapless look. Are you sure I can even go to this party?”
“Of course.” I throw the pink concoction over the dressing room door anyway.” “We're just dropping by. I can't wait for the look on I Tunter's face whhe he sees me. Lindy why this green thing in the try on-stack?”
Her hesitant voice comes from the other side of the door. “I liked it.”
“I said no. Green is a color on its way out. You don't want to be this year.”
“What year do I want to be?”
I hand her another gown. Still so much to learn.
The door creaks, and Lindy steps out into the small hall. I twirl my finger and she spins in front of the mirror.
“I can't wear this.” She tugs on the sliding bodice. “I feel naked.”
“It's a very conservative dress. Lindy, I know fashion, and that dress is it.”
She sighs and casts a longing glance at the green dress lumped in the pile. “Green is my favorite color. Matches my eyes.”
“But this dress shows off your curves, your toned shoulders. And it's so trendy.”
Lindy's gaze meets mine in the full-length mirror. “Are you afraid I'm going to embarrass you? Is that it?”
“No, of course not.” Right? I like Lindy for who she is. She simply needs some guidance. “I just think you should leave the clothing decisions to me.”
“It's your dad's Visa. Your party.” She pulls on her top once more and returns to the dressing room.
Oh, fine. I toss the green frock over. “Try it on.”
She squeals, and twenty seconds later she prances before the mirror again, her face beaming.
“How do you feel in that dress?” As if I have to ask.
White teeth sparkle against her tanned complexion. “Comfortable.”
“The old green dress it is.”
We have lunch at Le Cirque, sitting beneath the big-top light shade hanging from the ceiling. The food is heavenly, but Lindy calls them “snobby” portions. She refuses dessert—the fabulous Le Cirque chocolate—and acts relieved when we leave.
Later that evening, I study my new manicure and wonder how Lindy is getting along upstairs with her makeup. Dad reads through his e-mails beside me.
Luisa enters the kitchen and clears her throat. “Presenting . . . Miss Lindy Miller!”
She sashays into room, almost floating above the marble tile.
The queen has arrived.
The three of us clap for her as she spins, her green dress billowing.
“You girls are going to have a great time.” Dad hands me my clutch from the counter. “Both of you look fabulous. And believe me, I know fabulous.”
This is true. He sells it every day.
In the car, Lindy grows quiet beside me. I can feel the nervousness radiating off her like static electricity.
My phone beeps and I check the message. It's from Hunter.
The party is so dull without U. Miss U. Wish U were here.
I laugh and show Lindy. “I can't wait to see him.” She doesn't even crack a smile. “Lindy, relax. We're going to have such a good time.”
“I love the dress, and I appreciate the hair, the nails. But, Bella, this is your world. Not mine. I'm more of a Yankees-and-hot-dog kind of girl.”
“We'll do that next time, okay?” I grab her hand and squeeze. “If Matt could see you now—he'd be speechless. You seriously look hot.”
That coaxes her mouth into a smile. “But is it me? Sometimes I look in the mirror—at the highlights, the famous label clothes—and it's like I'm looking at someone else. Like I'm a phony.”
“Everyone's got another side to him . . . even your Matt Sparks.”
The car stops, and Dad's chauffeur turns around. “We're here, miss.”
I pull Lindy out, instructing her all the way on how to depart a vehicle in the most delicate manner. It's like sometimes the girl forgets she's not in basketball shorts. No need to give someone a free peep show, you know?
Music spills out into the lobby of the Broadway Park Hotel. A few of my former teachers greet me, and I introduce Lindy.
Soon old friends swarm, and I lose sight of Lindy in all the chaos.
“How's Oklahoma? Is it hideous?”
“Do you have to shop at Kmart?”
“Have you gone cow tipping?”
“Oh, I can't imagine what you've been going through.”
I don't even have time to respond to any of the questions. As soon as I open my mouth to defend my new home, somebody asks something even more ridiculous.
“Lindy?” I shout over the voices. “Lindy!”
I see her hand wave in the back.
“Excuse me—excuse me.” She pushes her way through.
“Girls, you remember my good friend Lindy from Truman, right?” Soon Lindy is being peppered with questions.
“Hey,” I whisper in her ear. “I'm just going to slip away for a bit and find Hunter. I won't leave you alone for long.”
Six songs later, I'm still searching for my boyfriend. Not only are there tons of people here, but at least half of them stop me to catch up.
When I've exhausted every spot in the ballroom, I notice French doors leading outside to a courtyard. The sparkle of tiny white lights strung from the trees lures me outside. I breathe in the night air and look to the sky.
No stars. They must all be in Oklahoma.
I breeze through the courtyard, finding nothing but random couples using the benches to make out.
Time to go back in. Hunter would definitely not be out here.
I stop and catch of flash of something familiar. “Mia?” I can't control my laughter. Mia has a boyfriend and didn't even tell me! And from the looks of things, it's serious. “Mia!” I'm on limited time here, so I tap my finger on her shoulder, shamelessly interrupting her interlude.
She comes up for air, her face now in the light. “Oh! Bella!” She jumps to cover the object of her affection.
But it's too late.
“Hunter?”
He all but falls off the bench. “Bella, I can explain.”
“With the same mouth you used to kiss my best friend?”
He pushes Mia aside and grabs me. “You don't understand. It's been so lonely here without you. And then Mia and I have been working closely on this dance ... and things just happened. It means nothing though, Bella.”
“You're right.” My glare could melt a polar ice cap. “It does mean nothing. We're over, Hunter. You never intended to make this work.” I turn on Mia. “Neither one of
you did. I've done all the calling, all the e-mailing. It took me leaving New York to see how much I really meant to both of you, to see what our relationships were truly made of.”
“You didn't make it easy,” Hunter says.
“Yes, I can see how rough it's been on you both.”
Mia finally finds her tongue. “Every time I did call you, it was Truman this and Truman that. And all about people I didn't know or care about, like that Lindy girl. I mean, seriously, Bella.” She crinkles her nose. “You come to see us and you bring her. She doesn't fit in with us. And maybe you don't either anymore.”
“Of course I fit in here. This is still my home.” Isn't it? “I walk out in that ballroom and see hundreds of my friends. And as for Lindy. she's got more class in her little finger than you've got in your entire closet. Just because- she does't hide behind designer clothes and her daddy's checkbook.”
Mia laughs. “Oh, you're a fine one to talk!”
“Um, I think we were talking about the fact that my best friend and my boyfriend are cheating on me. So can we get back to the topic at hand, where I was telling you what skanks you are?” Voices murmur behind me, and without even looking I can tell there's a crowd gathering. Good. Bring it.
Mia stomps closer in her Louboutin heels. “We don't like the new you, Bella.” She crosses her arms and looks to Hunter for support. “There. I said it—even if no one else will. You talk about school all the time, you act like our world isn't important, your charity case friend looks like a cabbage in her dress . . . and you have roots.”
Giggles erupt behind me. I spin on my heel, only to see Lindy standing there. Tears stream down her cheeks. She shakes her head and runs back into the ballroom.
My fists clench at my sides. “I don't even know you people! And if I have changed, I'm glad. Because if the old me acted anything like you, Mia, then thank God He moved me to Oklahoma. I'd rather be real any day than be whatever it is you think you are.” I take one last glance at my boyfriend. “You can have him, Mia. You two deserve each other.” I walk off but throw one final shot over my shoulder. “You should probably know he has a Lifetime fetish. He cries during Golden Girls.”
I pick up my pace until I'm running through the dance floor, searching frantically for Lindy. The crowd swallows me, and I shove through couple after couple before I break through and locate the exit.
But no Lindy.
I call her phone, but the only response I get is her voice mail. Where could she be? She can't just leave by herself. This is New York, for crying out loud. Not Small Town, Oklahoma.
I question a few adults in the lobby. Two people think they saw a girl in a green dress leave.
I jog to the parking lot and call out her name. No response.
After a brief survey of the rest of the hotel common areas, I give up and call my dad's chauffeur. I can't wait to get out of this place. And far away from my “friends.”
The ride home stretches forever as I sit alone in the backseat. I don't even tell the driver good-bye as I tear into the apartment, yelling for my dad.
“He's not here, Miss Bella.” Luisa wipes her hands on her apron, her face wrinkled in concern.
“Where is he? Lindy's missing. She just left the party.” I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of her horrified face.
“She's upstairs. Packing. She took a cab.”
My sigh of relief could probably be heard from Jersey. “We've had a horrible night.” I take the stairs two at a time, a shoe in each hand. “Lindy!”
Out of breath, I shove open my door and find Lindy throwing clothes in a suitcase.
“I hate them,” she says.
“Lindy, I'm sorry. They were hideous.”
She glances at my ceiling. “I meant them.” She points to the demonic cherubs. “They weird me out. I never told you that. But I thought as long as we're all being honest tonight, I'd share.”
I sit down on the queen-size bed. My dress fans around me and covers the ghastly comforter. “I'm so sorry. They don't know you, Lindy. Please tell me you didn't believe a word of what they said.”
Tears glisten in her eyes. “You tried to stop me from getting the dress.” She runs a hand over the skirt. “I still like it though.”
“Of course you do. And it looks great on you.”
“They said I looked like a cabbage.”
“You most definitely do not resemble any vegetable. They're just jealous. Jealous of your toned biceps. And jealous of our friendship.”
“I'm not your charity case though.” She unzips her dress as she stomps into the bathroom. She returns in her sweats and a ball cap, then tosses the dress on the bed. “Maybe you can take it back. Otherwise I'll pay you for it. I'll pay for all of it.”
“Don't be silly. You're not paying for anything.” I laugh and swallow some bitterness. “My dad loves doing that sort of thing—especially when it gets him off the hook for spending time with me.”
“Oh, I feel much better.” She yanks the zipper around her suitcase.
“Please don't do this. Don't go.” I hop off the bed and sit next to her bag.
“I have to get out of here. I want to go back home, to Truman. Luisa got me a late flight. I'm not staying here. I can't be around you people any longer.”
“I'm not like them. I'm not.”
Are you sure about that?” Lindy closes her eyes for a moment, then her words come out slow and steady. “I may have embarrassed you tonight, but you know what? I embarrassed myself—for trying to be something I'm not.” She heaves her suitcase up and charges toward the door. And I'm done with it.”
chapter thrity-five
I've lost my boyfriend. Lost my best friend. Lost Lindy. And the only one worth fighting for is sitting on a bleacher watching the Truman Tigers practice on this Monday afternoon.
“Hey.” I sit a few feet away from Lindy, my eyes fixed on the field. “I've been looking everywhere for you.” I've spent the entire hour I've been home searching for this girl, praying our friendship isn't over.
“Didn't know I was lost.” Her monotone does nothing to inspire hope.
Coach Lambourn blows his whistle. “Jared, snap the ball. Is it really that hard? Do you need to sit on the bench Friday night until you've mastered the fundamentals?”
I wince at Jared's public humiliation. His stepbrother, Coach Dallas, watches the exchange with a smile. Jerk.
Minutes later, the whistle is blown again. “Coach Dallas,” the father yells. “Take my starters here and work them over until they're ready to be state champs.”
“That's my specialty.” Jared's stepbrother escorts them to the other side of the field and shoves Dante forward, and the group begins to jog the perimeter.
I return my attention to Lindy. “I know you're mad at me. And maybe you've decided to totally write me off. But before you do, I have something to say.”
“No.” She holds up a hand. “Me first. Do you know what I've decided?”
I shield my eyes from the harsh sunlight. “You think a liar like Hunter is bound for a future in politics?”
“No.”
“You think I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to Truman?”
“That would be the Miss Truman pageant of 2007. We had our first transvestite in the competition—lots of back hair.” She shudders at the memory. “No, I think I'm going back to being me.” She reaches down and dusts a speck from her Nike running shoe. “If I have to be someone else to impress Matt Sparks, then I don't want him. I don't want to look in the mirror six months from now and see one of your New York friends staring back at me. I don't want to care whose name is on my shirt label.”
I'm guessing it's Adidas.
“I don't want to throw out a perfectly good pair of shoes just because they went out of style two months ago. Or judge someone because they'd rather shop at Payless instead of Prada.”
“You're exactly right.”
“What?”
“You're right. I tried to make you into
one of them. And that's not you. Lindy, Matt likes you for who you are, inside and out. I think you should just tell him how you feel and come clean with it. And if he doesn't realize what amazing girlfriend material you are, then it's his loss and he doesn't deserve you. But . . . that doesn't explain why you're out here.”
Her eyes return to the field where the boys in the starting lineup look like they could collapse at any minute. “I thought I would catch Matt before practice—talk to him. Tell him how all of this”—she lifts a piece of her highlighted hair—“had been for him. But, Bella, I think I've decided to just leave it alone. More than anything in the last few weeks, I've missed my friend Matt. I'm not ready to risk losing him permanently if he doesn't feel the same way.”
“Are you sure? I have a few other boy-winning strategies in my repertoire.”
A corner of her mouth lifts. “Two days ago you witnessed your boyfriend pawing your best friend. No offense, but your advice isn't worth much right now.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
Though it still smarts. I can't wait until the image of Hunter and Mia disappears from my brain. I've been on a steady diet of Ben and Jerry's ever since. I tried to smuggle it in on the plane today, but security didn't care about my boyfriend cheating on me. They said my contraband pint of Chunky Monkey was a security risk. Like anyone would ever desecrate a holy carton of Ben and Jerry's by sticking a weapon in it. Please.
“Lindy, I'm sorry for trying to change you. I never thought of you as a charity case. Your makeover was fun for me, but I know I got carried away. I don't want you to be like my New York friends.” My ex-friends. “This weekend I realized how shallow they all are. I can't believe all they care about is shopping and . . . shopping.”
“You know that was you about a month ago, right?”
“I wasn't that bad.”
She bites her lip. “Um, okay.”
“Seriously, was I?”
She elbows me in the ribs. “Let's just say you've grown on me.”
I giggle in relief. “Still friends?”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “I think we are.”
Thirty minutes later my butt has fallen asleep. I don't know why I'm still sitting here watching practice. Not sure what I'm looking for.
So Not Happening (2009) Page 22
