“Yeah, I don’t know that I’d use the word ‘appropriate,’” I say, having a hard time picturing the conversation I’d just overheard being simply computer generated.
“Well, that’s what we were told, but as you saw, the mirror isn’t really kid friendly. My dad said it was probably a cultural thing—they were made in France and, you know, they do things a little differently over there.”
I think back to the things the mirror said to Miss Patty. Why would the programmers have even anticipated needing the words “stripper bar” for something geared toward kids? “It was like it was having an actual conversation with Patty—even taunting her.”
“Yeah, the software definitely has a few bugs that need to be worked out. Patty gets tanked and starts talking to the stupid thing like the idiot she is, and then gets royally pissed off when it says something inappropriate—which it always does.”
“But why didn’t you just return them?”
“They wouldn’t let us. We even threatened to sue them, but seeing as they’re in Europe, they weren’t too worried. At least it was a tax write-off.”
“Wow, but besides the language, the face in the mirror is a little too PG-13 for the park anyway—it’d give some kid nightmares. They did a really good job on it, otherwise.” Totally spooked Remy and me!
“Enough about the stupid mirrors. Nicki’s watching Gypsy—the Patti LuPone version. Seen it a million times, but if you want, we could head out to the pool. I’ve got it cranked up to eighty-five!” She cocks her head and looks down at the phone still in my hand. “Unless you’re one of those girls who blows off her friends for a guy?”
“No. But I should probably at least call him back just in case it was something important.”
“Sure, but before you do, let me show you the pool.” Ari leads me to some French doors at the end of the hall, looking out to the backyard.
Large rocks are lit up with soft blue and green lights tracing the path of a waterfall that splashes into the pool. Chinese lanterns hang from cherry trees whose petals drift down onto the pool deck and scatter across the water’s surface.
“I could snag some champagne and we could swim or hang out in the Jacuzzi.”
“Okay,” I say, gawking at the Jacuzzi attached to the pool. “I vote for the Jacuzzi! Let’s get Nicki—she’ll love this.”
“I seriously doubt we could pry her away from the show. And, you know, I’m getting a little tired of her Debbie Downer routine. She takes everything so Goddamn seriously. Doesn’t she just drive you crazy the way she’s always on your case?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, stunned.
“Like riding you about Ryan. I mean, relationships are complicated—you can’t just bail on a guy because there’s a little trouble, right? But if it were up to Nicki, you’d already be broken up. And having one little drink, what’s the big deal? Did you see the way she was glaring at you? It’s like she doesn’t think you can make up your own mind.”
“Well, we kind of are underage, and as far as Ryan goes, she’s just concerned that I’m setting myself up for a fall. We didn’t know each other too well when he first asked me out—and there’s the whole Samantha thing.”
Ari looks at me doubtfully. “I guess you could look at it that way, but if you ask me, she’s jealous.”
I shake my head. “No. Nicki isn’t like that.”
“Well, I’ve just never heard her talk about any guys at chorus. Not that Nicki could be bothered talking to me much, even though I’ve tried to include her in conversations.”
I stare out at the pool. Nicki’s made it more than clear Ari isn’t one of her favorite people, and seeing as Ari can change from hot to subarctic at the drop of a hat, it’s not hard to imagine why. But Nicki has been riding me about Ryan from the first day he asked me out. I was so excited, but she just stared at me like I was crazy and asked why I said yes to a guy best known around school for scarfing twenty-eight cupcakes in three minutes our sophomore year.
She’s only dated a few guys, the longest lasting just over a month. But she’s chalked the breakups to the fact that the guys weren’t into women’s rights or politics or just not—I keep myself from rolling my eyes—serious enough.
I guess Ari nailed it.
“But if you want, go ask her to join us,” Ari adds.
“No, she’d rather watch the movie. Besides, she thinks bathing suits are designed by chauvinistic people who view woman’s bodies as eye candy for men.”
Ari shakes her head. “Yeah, like I was saying. But let’s get changed, and I’ll meet you out here in a few.”
Ari heads off and I walk slowly toward the front entrance hall where I left the bag with my suit and towel. I feel a little guilty not coming to Nicki’s defense, but in a way Ari’s right. Nicki needs to loosen up or at least accept that she’s not always right about everything.
I pull my new bikini out of my bag and wish Ryan were here. I’d never admit it to Nicki, but I don’t see anything wrong with being eye candy. And maybe next time—if Ari asks me over again—I won’t ask Nicki to come.
“So have you gone all the way yet?” Ari asks with a giggle.
I choke on my champagne and then pick up some of the foam gathered at the edge of the hot tub and throw it toward her. “Ari!”
She leers at me. “You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your business!” I squeal, splashing her.
She laughs again. “It’s okay, I’ve never done it either.” She sinks a bit lower in the water, the top of her champagne glass tilts and fills with hot tub water.
“Look out!” I laugh.
She sits up and fumbles with her glass, dropping it into the tub. “Shit!”
We laugh some more as we feel around the bottom of the tub with our feet. “I found it,” I say, reaching down and grabbing the flute—which Ari explained is the proper name for a champagne glass. I explained that we don’t do a whole lot of celebrating at my house and therefore I was ignorant to the fact that there was a type of flute you don’t blow into. Ari then asked if I could tell a merlot glass from a chardonnay—to which I replied, “No,” and she vowed to educate me in the ways of sophistication.
She dumps the water out of her flute and pours more champagne from the second bottle we opened.
“What if Patty or your dad comes out and catches us?”
Ari snorts, dips her lips below the surface, and blows some bubbles. She comes up and crosses her eyes, looking woozy. “Patty’s probably out cold.” She shakes her head and looks at me sadly. “And my dad is such an old fuddy-duddy he’s in bed by nine o’clock sharp.” She raises her flute in the air. “This is why it’s important to party while you’re young and can still enjoy it!”
I raise my glass to hers and then we both sip our drinks. I look up at the sky and marvel at the stars. I went to New York City with Nicki’s family a couple of years ago to see The Lion King and was shocked that there was so much artificial light it made seeing the stars near impossible. But here, up high on the mountain overlooking the park, each and every star stands out crisply in the black sky.
“It’s so beautiful here—perfect.”
“I guess,” Ari says softly. She swirls a hand across the surface of the water and sighs. “But I’m still missing the key ingredient to my happily ever after.”
“Does Luke know you like him?” I ask, not bothering to pretend I don’t know she’s hot for him.
Ari clucks her tongue. “Sadly for me, he does. I stupidly made the first move and got the you’re-like-a-sister-to-me speech. That was over a year ago, and I keep hoping things will change—but it’s hard waiting, and seeing him all the time and wondering when he’ll realize I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“Do you think it’s because you were friends with his sister?”
“How did you know Kayla and I were friends?”
“Nicki told me.”
Ari nods. “Yeah, I think that may be part of it, but Ka
yla wasn’t much help either. She didn’t want us going out because she said if we broke up, it might ruin our friendship. I contended that my marrying Luke would make us sisters.” She drains her glass and then fills it again. “Sometimes I think Kayla just didn’t want to share him.”
I look up at the stars, not sure Ari will like what I’m going to say. I consider keeping my mouth shut, but I do feel bad for her, and the champagne is making me feel brave.
“You might want to back off a little, give him some room. It was kind of obvious you had it bad for him when we were in the costume room that day. Instead of always trying to hook arms with him or stand next to him, which gives off this needy vibe, let him come to you.”
I wait to see if Ari’s going to bite my head off.
“Maybe you’re right,” she says.
I realize I’m holding my breath, and exhale.
“Maybe if I turn off the I-love-you vibe then he’ll …” Ari sits up straight as a huge smile breaks out on her face. “Oh my God, he’s here! This is like fate!”
I turn around and see Luke walking out of the house with Nicki.
“Hey, ladies,” he says.
“What are you doing here?” Ari says. She looks sideways at me and beams.
“Patty called me a while ago to ask if I finished touching up the sign leading to Hansel and Gretel’s forest.” He picks at the paint clinging to his hands. “She sounded pretty out of it, so I thought I’d check in on you.”
Ari rolls her eyes. “Yeah, she started drinking as soon as she got the call that the new minicoaster is being delayed again.”
“That’s pretty sad,” Nicki says. “Are you going to get her some help?”
Ari’s smile evaporates. “It doesn’t happen all the time,” she snaps, then she looks at Luke. “I take it you’ve met Nicki.”
“Oh, I remembered her from the chorus.” He turns to Nicki. “I’ll never forget that song you sang a couple of years ago—‘Glitter’ something.”
“‘Glitter and be Gay,’ from Candide! That’s one of my favorite performance pieces! I can’t believe you remembered that.” Nicki smiles and waves a hand around like her performance was no big deal, despite the fact that she got a standing ovation.
“No, that song stuck with me for a while. Well, Kayla was singing it a lot too, but she was always talking about how good you were—that you should be on Broadway.”
Nicki gives him a bittersweet smile. “She was really good too, but I don’t know if I’m ready to take on Broadway.”
“Of course you are,” Ari says coldly. “Everyone says so, and you made quite an impression on Luke, who I didn’t know was such a music aficionado.”
Nicki gives Luke a quick, nervous glance, and I can tell she’s realized Ari’s heading down that slippery slope of jealousy. “Um, everyone likes music, right? It’s universal. Um, you know, it’s getting late, and don’t you have your big Land of Enchantment orientation tomorrow, Megan? Wouldn’t want you to be late for the slushy machine seminar.”
I nod and climb out of the hot tub, suddenly self-conscious of being in a bathing suit in front of Luke. I quickly grab my towel and wrap it around me. “Yeah, it’s first thing in the morning so we should get going.” I wobble a little on my feet, and Nicki grabs my arm to steady me. “There’s more champagne, Luke. Maybe you should join Ari.” I wink at her and she smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for having us over. Good to see you again, Luke.”
“Yeah, you too. I’m sure I’ll see you at the park.”
I come out of the bathroom clutching my wet bathing suit, and Nicki is leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. “I hope your mother isn’t waiting up for you— she’ll know you’re trashed.”
My cheeks burn as I slide the straps of my tote bag over my arm. “I’m not trashed, but my mom has an early meeting with her lawyer so she’s probably in bed anyway.”
“Whatever, and, uh, thanks for abandoning me tonight.”
I scoff. “I just figured you were enjoying the movie, and you even said you weren’t sure if you wanted to go swimming.”
Nicki takes her keys out of her purse. “It would’ve been nice to have been asked! After the movie ended I had no clue where you two where. Luckily, Luke showed up and led me to the pool so I wasn’t wandering around this flagrantly overdone McMansion filled with butchered-up animal parts.
“Seriously, PETA would be picketing the Land of Enchantment in a heartbeat if they knew what was in here. Just look,” she says, pointing to an elephant foot turned into an umbrella stand by the front door. “How sick is that?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s obviously old stuff—from before endangered species were on anyone’s radar.”
“That doesn’t mean they have to keep it around.”
“It doesn’t, but why get all freaked out about it?”
Nicki opens the front door. “The real question is why are you okay with it?”
“I guess I’m not as morally superior as you are.”
Nicki glares at me. “Oh, that’s nice, and it must be nice knowing you can down as much champagne as you want, seeing as you have a chauffeur to drive you home.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, I had a few drinks. It’s not like I make a habit of it, but I just don’t have the energy to analyze everything like you do. Yes, I think all the dead things are creepy, but they’re like antiques—maybe there’s some sentimental reason for keeping them around.”
“Well, FYI, this is my first and last visit to Casa Roy; if you plan on coming again, I suggest you finally get around to getting your license like you keep talking about or have Ari start chauffeuring you around.”
“Fine, I will!” I get in the car and wonder when Nicki turned into such an insufferable stick-in-the-mud—or what took me so long to notice. And she’s totally delusional if she thinks Ari will ever invite her over again, anyway.
Nicki turns the volume up and I know we’ll ride home without talking. It’s not fair. She’s always harping about stupid stuff and she doesn’t even know how lucky she is. I’d give anything to go home to a normal family every night and get praise for being great at something like her.
Instead, I’m stuck watching for Remy to pop up around every corner ready to scare the hell out me, and then go to sleep knowing I’ll probably have a nightmare about a girl left butchered on a forest floor. I close my eyes, feeling sleepy, and lean my head back against the seat. The face in the mirror comes to me. I see its hands clapping, with their long monster fingernails, and pray this image won’t be added to my repertoire of nightmares as well.
EIGHT
I walk downstairs and Mom’s on the phone. Great. I was hoping she’d be gone by now.
“I’ll try to find it, Shelly, but surely in this day and age, you can come up with some loophole—that is what I’m paying you for.”
Mom sees me and tilts her head toward the kitchen table, where I see she’s laid out breakfast—juice, melon balls, toast—something she hasn’t done in ages. I’m guessing Dr. Macardo thought Mom and I should sit down and talk, and this is her way of saying she’d rather just move on instead of rehashing the Remy stuff.
Fergus saunters over and I rub his ears. “Hey, boy,” I whisper.
“Look, I just want them to admit they were negligent and have his equipment upgraded.” Mom scoffs in frustration at whatever Shelly’s just told her. “Well, see what you can dig up before I get there!” She turns off the phone and takes a deep breath.
I sit down and help myself to some toast. I figure Mom is absolutely dying to grill me about the meltdown in Dad’s room, but I know she’ll avoid it so we can pretend the other night didn’t happen.
She pours herself some coffee and runs her fingers through her disheveled hair. “So,” she says after taking a sip. “Shelly’s trying to have the home take some responsibility for what happened and upgrade all of your father’s equipment,” she says like I didn’t just hear this when she was on the phone a second ago. “And I’m hav
ing her talk to the insurance company about doing some more tests—just to see how he’s progressing, see if there’s any new brain activity the home’s missed. It’ll be a fight, but …” She trails off, sipping her coffee again, and I wonder if deep down she knows it’s hopeless.
“Don’t forget I’ll be home late tonight,” she continues. “The competition is in Boston. Fergus and I have been working really hard and I think we have a good shot of beating that Brussels griffon—unless the judges feel sorry for the thing. A dog that ugly could get sympathy points. There’s a bichon frise from Long Island that’s getting a lot of buzz on the message boards too. I haven’t been able to find any online video of her; it would be nice to see what kind of costumes they have.” She rolls her eyes. “Although, I can’t for the life of me figure out what attracts people to those yappy little breeds.”
“I’ve got training at Land of Enchantment,” I say, not the least bit interested in talking canine freestyle with Mom. Seriously, who cares what ridiculous getup they’ve put on a small white dog with a bad Afro?
“That’s nice.” Mom pushes away from the table and puts her mug in the sink. “I might go through some of your father’s medical records before I head out to see if I can find something to help our case. I left some money for you on the counter so you can get something to eat tonight.”
“Thanks.”
She smiles at me, but I don’t feel any real emotion behind it. I suspect it was an automatic reaction to my “thanks,” and she’s already miles away thinking about the competition— and Dad. I watch her go into Dad’s study and wonder if she needs to find something that’ll fuel her hope that he’ll wake up to counteract anything Dr. Macardo may have said to her.
When I talked to Dr. Macardo, despite his efforts to appear unbiased, it was obvious he’s not a fan of leaving people hooked up to life support. He must’ve said, “You have to consider the quality of life,” a dozen times, punctuated by “Of course, only the surviving family members can make that judgment call after keeping themselves fully informed about their loved one’s condition.” I know he was trying to choose his words carefully, but the term “surviving family members” gave him away—he’s written Dad off, just like the doctors.
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