“Really? Did you know that I won the school prize last year for my short stories?”
“Well, I’m sure you’re better than me.”
Charlotte blushed and started to tell him about a story she was working on from the perspective of a vegetarian Venus flytrap. It made parallels to her parents’ first divorce and also the Taliban.
“You know, you can enter your own original composition into the State Debate and Drama Tournament that’s coming up. That’s the best way to get started,” she suggested.
Valentin, who already knew this, pretended to be thankful for the information. After a few more minutes of listening to Charlotte talk, he said, “Maybe we could get together one day and, you know, have a private reading.”
“I would really like that,” said Charlotte.
“And if you want, I could take a look at the prize-winning short story,” Valentin said in his most buttery tone.
So they set a date to meet after school, and Valentin convinced Charlotte to bring her journal. They walked together to where their cars were waiting. Charlotte looked down, wanting to reach out and take Valentin’s hand again, but it was in his pocket.
Valentin jogged to the black Town Car waiting for him in front of the school and hopped in. His sisters were already waiting there. Belle was complaining to Bicé about Lucy Spencer, and Victoria was pretending to read an Oxford brochure.
“They’re dating. He’s actually dating Lucy,” Belle wailed, having just heard the news from her blond spy network. “And she told everyone we’re orphans.”
“So what? We were adopted,” said Bicé. “At least you and I are still together.”
Victoria and Belle exchanged a glance. Belle changed the subject.
“She told Thomas that I had plastic surgery.”
Bicé laughed a bit and started picking a loose thread on the seat cushion. Again, the memory of when her sister looked just like her was like a painful ball of lead in her heart. “You did more than that, Belle. Be thankful that’s all she thinks.”
“I hope he doesn’t believe her,” said Belle.
“Haven’t you talked to him?” asked Bicé.
“Not since a few days ago in the dining hall.” Belle smiled coyly. “He’s with Lucy, and I’m going to play the Connor angle until he breaks up with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I spent the day letting Connor show me around. I ignored Thomas. It was so hard.”
“That’s immature,” said Bicé.
“Right, like you’re the one to give relationship advice.” Belle immediately felt sorry for that remark. “I’m sorry, Bicé, but I’ll stop ignoring him after he’s in love with me.”
“What if he never falls in love with you?” Victoria said without looking up from her brochure. She had been “reading” the page on housing options for the last twenty minutes.
“He will.”
“Boys are such a waste of time. Today at lunch, I was standing behind one of them in the cafeteria line. And he was thinking that if the girl in front of him got the turkey, he would ask her to the spring dance. Then when she did get the turkey, he thought, If she gets ice cream, I’ll ask her. Then when she got ice cream too, he thought, I’ll ask her if she pays with exact change. And it went on and on like that till she went to her table and he slumped off. It was pathetic. Why waste your time on losers, Belle?”
“Thomas wasn’t a loser when you found out his dad owns half the city. And when we’re married, we’re not inviting you to any of our parties.”
“Oh, no!” said Victoria in a mocking tone. “How will I sleep tonight? Please, please, Belle. Say you’ll invite me to your parties.”
The door flung open and Christian jumped in.
“I won all the sprints in swim practice today,” he said excitedly.
“Big surprise,” Victoria said. “How can you be excited knowing that you’ve done about two percent of everything you wanted to do this year?”
Christian shrugged and went on. “I talked to Connor again today. Nice guy. We’re playing golf so he can teach me some stuff.”
“Why would you practice with him?” said Victoria. “You could go pro. He’s some random —”
“Yeah, I know,” Christian interrupted. “But it’d be nice to make some friends —” Christian stopped himself. “He plays tennis too. He’s won a lot of trophies. I just want to watch my back.”
“How strategic,” said Valentin.
“But, Christian, you knew all that already,” said Bicé.
“I’m a bit worried now, I guess. After seeing all his records. We’re teammates in basketball too — I just want to keep an eye on him.”
“Devious. Positively devilish,” said Valentin.
“You know the Scholar-Athlete Prize at the end of the year? Everyone thinks Connor will win it.”
“Don’t worry,” said Bicé, patting his arm. “They’ve barely seen you yet.”
“It’s not that easy. It’s a yearly award. Being the best in one semester won’t be enough for all the time he’s been here. I’d have to win at everything, steal from everybody, basically demolish the guy.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” said Victoria. “You have everything you need to get it done. What’s the problem?”
“I was hoping I could do it without that.”
“That’s pathetic,” Victoria said in a disgusted tone, and went back to reading.
“Why do you care about all this? Why would someone like you bother helping someone like me?”
“Because some things that seem unimportant now can change the course of human history — and I am a student of human history.”
“Well, I’ve only ever been a failure. I sign here?”
“Lots of big accomplishments begin with failures.”
“Like what?”
“There was a man who owned a clothing store that went bankrupt.”
“Let me guess. He learned from his failure and started over as Giorgio Armani.”
“No. He left the clothing business. He became president and dropped a bomb on Hiroshima.”
The Faust children spent the next few weeks in their own individual worlds. Bicé managed to stay below the radar of most of the dozens of kids who were jealous of her. Belle finally stopped ignoring Thomas and started showing up to all of his activities. And Thomas was showing more than a little interest. He would joke and flirt with Belle, even when Lucy was around. At first, it was just a few friendly conversations, or a few inside jokes from that day in the dining hall. Then, as Thomas spent more time with Belle, it became harder and harder for him to notice Lucy. Sometimes (on the days of the irresistible baths), he was so distracted, he forgot his manners altogether. After a while, Belle and Thomas started to meet after school and between classes. When they were alone, Thomas would bring her little presents and call her “princess.” Lucy found their friendship more than infuriating, though she still thought of Thomas as her boyfriend, completely unaware that he was secretly meeting with Belle. Belle was tempted to use a big dose of anything lethal on Lucy, since she’d started to become such a pest, clinging to Thomas as if she had picked him up at a sample sale and constantly trying to ruin her reputation. It took weeks for Belle to prove that the dirty Internet pictures were Photoshopped.
Christian made it onto all of the sports teams he wanted to join and wasn’t around most of the time. No one asked if he was still practicing on Buddy. They all secretly knew that he was, because he was fast becoming friends with Connor — and Christian liked losing to friends even less than he liked losing to strangers. Valentin was starting to hit his stride, too. He had written some of his best poetry in the past few weeks and was finally ready to submit his work in the State Debate and Drama Tournament.
Of all the children, the only one who truly hated Marlowe was Victoria. Her obsession with Lucy’s presidential campaign was taking over. Lucy had put up posters all over campus with slogans like “Vote Lucy. She’s been with you all along�
�� and “Lucy Spencer, the only candidate who stands against all forms of cosmetic enhancement.” Valentin’s personal favorite read, “If you need a governess to run your life, can you really run a school?” He brought the poster home one day, and he and Madame Vileroy had a laugh at Victoria’s expense. The moths didn’t tell Victoria about the posters until two days before they were hung, and she was powerless to do anything about it.
As if Lucy wasn’t enough, Thomas was everywhere related to debate. But for now, Victoria was too busy with the election to worry about Thomas. She couldn’t force anyone to vote for her, so she had to win the old-fashioned way: meeting as many classmates as possible and reading their minds to find their weaknesses. This process took an annoyingly long time, but thankfully, she didn’t have to be a sweet-talking politician with all her classmates. Some people had juicy secrets irresponsibly stored in accessible parts of their brain. Others were more difficult. But inevitably, everyone had something they loved or hated or wished for or feared that Victoria could share or emulate or avoid or exploit. Still, she secretly hated Belle for having it so easy. Every time she saw her surrounded by a group of fidgeting, fawning admirers, she thought that Belle didn’t deserve it. Madame Vileroy had confirmed it. She too thought Victoria was the most deserving. Then why is Belle getting all her attention?
By the week of the election in early March, Victoria had dazzled or terrified at least half the class. Meanwhile, Lucy’s games became more and more vicious and desperate. It was going to be close. When the posters got old, she began following Victoria to capture incriminating or embarrassing moments on film. Lurking outside the Fausts’ apartment building one night, she thought she saw a huge mass of flies shoot out of one of the windows. But she didn’t have time to take a picture. On another night, she saw some strange lights flashing on the inside and snapped a pretty good photo, but the next day, the picture showed nothing more than an ordinary building surrounded by the black of night. After a few days of finding nothing, Lucy switched to a less discreet strategy. She went to Ms. LeMieux to try to accuse Victoria of cheating on a test. Unfortunately for Lucy, Ms. LeMieux had become Victoria’s biggest fan since their meeting a few weeks before. Lucy didn’t know it, but when she walked into Ms. LeMieux’s office to accuse Victoria, she was walking into enemy territory.
“Hello, Ms. LeMieux. Thank you for seeing me,” she said as she sat down.
“That’s all right, Lucy, but please be brief. I have a packed day.”
“I’m here to see you about Victoria Faust,” she said, stupidly missing the fact that Ms. LeMieux had perked up at the mention of Victoria’s name. “I’m here to report her for cheating,” Lucy continued.
“Excuse me?”
“Cheating. She’s been cheating in European history. I know because I found this under her desk after the last test.” Lucy pulled out a card, a cheat sheet with dates, names, and facts printed in tiny script.
“Lucy —” Ms. LeMieux began.
“I know you like her, Ms. LeMieux,” Lucy interrupted, “but she’s been manipulating you. She’s a cheater.”
“Lucy, stop right there. Now, let me ask you something. When was this test?”
“Two days ago.” Lucy sat up.
“The test on the Franco-Prussian War?”
“Yes.”
“Lucy, Victoria was absent from that test. She asked that I proctor her makeup test this morning. She took the test here, in my office, alone.” Lucy’s mind was racing. How can that be true? I found the cheat sheet right under her desk. Then again, Lucy wasn’t exactly sure if Victoria had been in class that day. She missed so many of them with one excuse after another (foreign ailments, undocumented phobias, chronic this or that).
Ms. LeMieux remembered how enjoyable it had been giving Victoria that test. Victoria had asked her to read the questions out loud, because of her vision problem. Ms. LeMieux remembered thinking about each answer to herself and watching as Victoria got every one of them right. What a bright girl she was.
Lucy was speechless. Once again, Victoria was one step ahead of her. It was as if she knew that Lucy was planning this. That little witch. How was she always on top of everything?
“Lucy, let me warn you,” Ms. LeMieux said, rising from her chair. “Unfounded accusations will not be tolerated here. I don’t know where you got that cheat sheet, but for your sake, I’m going to pretend you were never here. Now leave.”
The night before the election, Victoria stayed up late. She sat cross-legged, weathering a storm of insects, her eyes closed, almost as if she were meditating on some cosmic truth. In reality, she was spying on Lucy again. Now an expert with the moths, Victoria could see the scene in Lucy’s house as easily as if she were there, a fly on the wall. She shamelessly watched Lucy and Mrs. Spencer in a private mother-daughter moment, the likes of which was rarely seen in public. Victoria watched Mrs. Spencer bring her daughter a cup of tea. She watched the aging socialite stack boxes of cupcakes one on top of another, ready for the next day. And she watched as the two spent four solid hours putting fake diamond pendants on hundreds of necklaces for Lucy to give away.
“Darling, this is such a brilliant campaign. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom! I think I could really win! Charlotte took an informal poll at lunch.”
“Well, you’ve certainly worked hard enough.”
“Yeah, and diamonds are so classic. The whole theme is a winner.”
Victoria laughed. So self-righteous, that Lucy. As if using her parents’ money was fair. As if she weren’t cheating just by being herself.
“Mom?” Victoria heard Lucy say.
“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Spencer was having trouble with a particularly tricky pendant hook.
“It’s really fun working on this with you.”
Mrs. Spencer stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Well, you know, darling. I was president of my class in high school. It’s family tradition, though I never had a campaign this creative.”
On the day of the election, Victoria was confident. She walked in two hours before school, with forty posters under one arm and a bag full of buttons in another. As she strolled toward Marlowe, her head full of plans and to-do lists, Victoria noticed Madame Vileroy walking beside her.
She jumped and dropped a few posters. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my job. To watch over you,” Madame Vileroy whispered. “See who’s coming?”
Victoria noticed Lucy and her mother, each carrying trays full of Magnolia cupcakes.
“Don’t worry. I know about her campaign.”
Madame Vileroy rolled her eyes, a move that was disconcerting to Victoria, who couldn’t help but gaze into the governess’s strange left eye. “Yes, the election. But you can’t think of a single fun thing to do besides? With all that information?”
“What do you mean?” asked Victoria.
“You watched her for four hours last night.”
Victoria waited.
“Where’s the clever Victoria I used to know?” Vileroy goaded. “The girl that used to be my most talented, the one that could always give us a good laugh.”
Victoria picked up her pace and approached Lucy and her mother.
“Hi, Mrs. Spencer. How are you?” Victoria said with concern. “I’m so sorry to hear about the divorce settlement.”
Mrs. Spencer went white. “Excuse me?” She looked nothing like the tender mother of the night before.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Lucy told me. She said you only got half the house and two hundred grand a year for half the term of your marriage. I think it’s totally unfair, but what can you do? It’s a man’s world.” With that Victoria walked away. Her heart was beating fast; she could almost hear Madame Vileroy’s approving laugh.
“Lucy!” Mrs. Spencer was livid. She dropped her tray of cupcakes and stared in shock at her daughter. A few boys who were running to swim practice slowed down to watch.
“Mom, she is lying. I swear, I would never —”
<
br /> “Lucy! How could you betray me like this?”
“Mom, I swear I didn’t —”
“You expect me to believe that?” Mrs. Spencer’s hands shook as she shuffled through her purse for her keys. She then left her daughter, who stood alone in the middle of a pile of ruined cupcakes. Victoria looked on.
For the rest of the day, Lucy distracted herself by putting up her campaign posters and spying on Victoria, who had ordered a constant stream of sushi and smoothies for everyone at Marlowe. Lucy and Charlotte countered with a hot new campaign that looked exactly like the De Beers diamonds ads. Her slogan was “Diamonds may be forever, but Lucy is a girl’s best friend.” She had faux diamond necklaces with LS pendants that she handed out to all the girls. For the guys, Lucy had designed her own version of a Super Bowl ring. Of course, both girls had gone over the Marlowe School limit on election spending.
In the early afternoon, Charlotte and Lucy were in the front lobby, handing out bling to everyone entering the school, when they noticed some noise coming from outside. On the front lawn, Victoria was making an impromptu speech with a loudspeaker.
“As president, I promise to take on important issues that affect our lives. Look at little Kweku here.” Next to her stood a little black boy, about eight, wearing a tattered shirt and jeans. Victoria had found him that weekend playing Frisbee in Central Park and had paid him five hundred bucks to play along. His name was Colin. She put her hand on the boy’s head. “His family was uprooted from their home in Africa. Their entire village was ransacked by diamond smugglers. His father lost his hand because he stole a diamond from the smugglers — just so his family could eat. The only reason he’s here is because he stowed away on a ship carrying conflict diamonds to America. As president, I’m going to wage war against conflict diamonds!”
The growing crowd erupted in cheers. Nothing like the liberal, guilt-ridden children of wealthy New Yorkers, Victoria thought. She took out her bag of buttons. “If you want to support this little boy and his family, wear one of these buttons supporting Victoria for president. Show your stance against conflict diamonds!”
Another Faust Page 15
