“I know, Mom.” Lizzie swallowed. She didn’t want to be reminded of that just this moment. “I know.”
“Okay, Lizzie! Let’s do this!” Andrea called out, and Lizzie went to take her place in front of the camera. Behind her the whitewashed wall curved right into the floor, so that it looked like a blank white backdrop. Two light stands stood on either side of her, and at her feet was a small, powerful fan that blew her hair off her shoulders. Someone had turned up the music so that the hip-hop beats thudded behind her eyes and made her want to move. The fashion editor, the makeup artist, the hairdresser, and Andrea’s assistants gradually made their way to the area behind Andrea to watch. They’re all watching me, she thought. What if I can’t do this?
“Okay, Lizzie, for this, I want movement!” Andrea yelled, holding her Mamiya. “Running! Jumping! Kicking! Dancing! The works! Don’t be afraid to be crazy.” Andrea hoisted the camera up to her face. “Let’s go!”
As soon as Lizzie saw the black eye of the camera lens, something clicked inside of her. I can do this, she thought. The camera was her friend now. It wasn’t going to judge her anymore.
She gave it all of her attention, gazing straight at it, leveling her eyes.
“Yes! Perfect!” Andrea clicked.
Slowly, she started to move. The music surrounded her, blocking out the chatter in her head. The breeze from the fan tickled her neck, and she had the vague sensation that her hair was blowing out behind her, but she didn’t even notice. It was like she had tunnel vision—all she could see was the camera, and it was all she cared about. The people standing behind Andrea disappeared. Even Andrea disappeared. It was just her and the camera.
“Yes!” Andrea yelled as she snapped away. “That’s great! Just like that!”
She jumped. She kicked. She twirled. She actually broke a sweat. Every so often, Andrea would take a break, and the makeup artist and the hairdresser would jump up and press powder on her nose or smooth her hair with some styling lotion. When she had to change into her second look, and then her third, she scurried off the set, panting, and the fashion editors wordlessly handed her the clothes. Then in a flash, she’d be in front of the camera again. She was in a groove. She was untouchable. Powerful. In charge.
She could have gone on for hours when Andrea finally handed her camera to one of her assistants and started clapping. “That was great, Lizzie!” she hollered, breaking into a little dance of her own. “Your best yet!”
Lizzie grinned and limped off the set, cheerfully exhausted. Her legs ached like she’d just run five miles. Who knew that modeling was so much exercise?
As she walked out of the glare of the lights, and her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, Lizzie did a quick visual sweep of the room. She’d almost forgotten that her mom was here. Realizing that she’d just danced in front of her for an hour and a half to hip-hop, she was a little embarrassed.
But Katia sat perfectly still in a canvas folding chair, her long, leather-covered legs crossed, and her BlackBerry lying untouched on her lap. She was so still that for a moment, Lizzie wondered if she was okay. And then her mom smiled, slid to her feet, and started clapping as she walked over. “Well done!” she yelled. When she reached Lizzie, she threw her arms around her. “Well done!” she said again, squeezing her.
“Thanks, Mom,” Lizzie said, a little unsure what to make of this.
“I had no idea,” Katia said, letting her go. “I had no idea you were so good at this!” Katia looked at Andrea. “She can really do this, can’t she?”
Andrea reached out and touched Lizzie’s hair as if she were her own kid. “She’s very talented,” she agreed.
“Did you have fun up there?” Katia asked.
“The most fun ever,” Lizzie said.
“Well, I have some news I was saving,” Andrea informed them. “New York Style loved Lizzie’s look so much they want to use her again. But this time they want her on the cover.”
The cover. Lizzie’s heart did a somersault. “Oh, Mom, can I do it?” she pleaded. “Please? Can I? ”
Katia took a deep breath. “I don’t know, honey—”
“But I can do this,” she argued. “I feel like I’m actually good at this. Please?”
Katia bit her lip. She was still beautiful, but there were tiny frown lines around her mouth, and the crow’s feet under her eyes looked deeper than Lizzie had ever noticed before. For the first time, she realized that her mother was getting older.
“I am very impressed,” Katia conceded, narrowing her eyes as she thought. “Let’s talk to your father.”
Without Katia saying it, Lizzie had her answer. For the first time in years—maybe ever—she and her mom were finally on the same side of something. All this time, she had been her mother’s daughter, too, and neither of them had known it.
chapter 18
The first school dance of the year always reminded Lizzie of Christmas: lots of exciting lead-up, and then a somewhat anticlimactic main event. Before the big night, she and her friends always had the crazy hope that given mood lighting, a DJ, and the ability to wear their own clothes, romance might suddenly strike with one of the guys in her class. And then, at the dance, they’d remember that romance really wasn’t a possibility when there were only sixty people in your grade, and you’d known most of them since pre-K.
But for Lizzie there was still one exciting prospect. Even if that prospect had a girlfriend he was surgically attached to, and he wasn’t actually here yet.
“Lizzie, he’s going to show up, I promise,” Carina said as she leaned over the snack table and grabbed a handful of Fritos. “And you’re stalking those doors.”
Lizzie guiltily tore her eyes from the double doors to the assembly hall and sipped her 7UP. “I wasn’t stalking them.”
“Ugh. C…,” Hudson said, wrinkling her nose. “You put your hands in that bowl? And Fritos? Really?” Hudson had taken one of her famous fashion risks tonight with a purple and yellow silk Matthew Williamson shredded-hem tunic and a deconstructed feathered headdress. It actually worked.
“I’m under a lot of stress at the office,” Carina said defensively, crunching her Fritos. “My dad actually made me take a quiz on his different companies. A pop quiz. Like he doesn’t think I pay attention while I’m there. It’s so condescending.” She pulled at the strap of the black dress she’d bought at Big Drop. “So I checked, you guys. Almost a million bucks definitely didn’t get to those charities. And I found some weird file showing that one of his companies got a sudden influx of cash.” She snapped her fingers. “Busted.”
“So you’re gonna blow the whistle on him?” Lizzie asked. “Just like that?”
“He’s a cheater,” Carina said. “People need to know that.”
“No, they don’t,” Hudson said, shaking her head. “Please promise me that you’ll call me before you do this. So I can try to stop the madness before it’s too late?”
Carina only winked. “I promise.”
Even though she was the most extroverted of the three of them, Carina would sooner sell her soul than give up a secret—hers or someone else’s. It was one of her best qualities—except when she chose to withhold info from her best friends. And Lizzie knew that there was more going on behind Carina’s decision to do this than she was going to admit.
“So, what’d your dad say about the cover shoot for New York Style?” Hudson asked Lizzie. “Did he come around?”
“Amazingly, yes,” Lizzie said. “I’m doing it next week. It was all my mom. Now she’s totally on board with the modeling thing.”
“Except they still grounded you for two weeks, right?” Carina said.
Lizzie shrugged. “I got them to lift it a few days early for the dance,” she said. She looked out onto the empty dance floor and saw a little person crossing the room through the weird pink and blue lighting. It was Hillary Crumple. From the steely, woman-on-a-mission look in her eyes, Lizzie knew she was coming straight toward them.
“Oh no,” Cari
na said, spotting her. “Incoming.”
“Yeesh,” Hudson sighed.
Before the three of them could turn around toward the snack table, Hillary was right in front of them, staring at Hudson expectantly. “Hey, Hudson. Awesome headdress.”
“Thanks,” Hudson said delicately. “I like your sweater.”
“Really?” Hillary looked down at her pink knit sweater embellished with sparkly flowers. “I just got it.”
“It’s cute,” Hudson said, trying as always to be nice.
“So, I saw you in Life & Style the other day,” Hillary said, launching into verbal attack mode. “It was a photo of you coming out of a Starbucks with your mom. You had on this purple jumper thingie with the black fishnet tights. Where’d you get them? And where are you at with your album?”
Hudson darted a nervous glance at Lizzie. “It’s in the beginning stages right now.”
“Is your mom helping you?” Hillary pressed. If Lizzie didn’t know better, she’d think Hillary was interviewing her.
“My mom and I have different styles,” Hudson said cautiously. “So she is, but she’s kind of in the background, if you know what I mean.”
Hillary nodded. “This dance is totally lame,” she announced, craning her little head to take in the empty dance floor. “Why aren’t you guys at Ava’s? I heard she’s having a party.”
“Ava’s having a party?” Lizzie asked. No wonder Todd wasn’t here.
“Are you going?” Carina asked Hillary.
Hillary shook her head. “My mom won’t let me,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What-ev.”
“Well, I think we need to go to the bathroom now,” Carina cut in, taking Hudson by the arm. “Sorry, Hillary.”
“Just one more thing,” Hillary said to Hudson, pulling out her cell phone. “Want to give me your number? Maybe we can go shopping sometime?”
“Um,” Hudson paused, biting her lower lip.
Don’t do it, Lizzie tried to say with ESP, but Hudson took Hillary’s phone and punched in her number.
“Cool!” Hillary gushed, taking the phone back. “Thanks!”
Carina finally managed to yank Hudson toward the doors. “You gave her your number?” she asked in disbelief.
“You’re way too nice to her, H,” Lizzie said. “Especially since she’s obsessed with you.”
“She’s not obsessed with me,” Hudson countered. “She’s obsessed with my mom. What else is new?”
“Yeah, but I’d still be careful,” Carina whispered. “She’s crazy as a freakin’ loon.”
“You guys, let’s go to Ava’s,” Lizzie declared, before she’d even really thought about it.
Hudson and Carina traded looks. “We weren’t invited,” Hudson said.
“And I thought Ava was driving you crazy,” Carina pointed out. “She’ll probably hit you up for something for her stupid party.”
“Yeah, but the dance is kind of lame,” she said. “And Todd’ll be there.”
Just then they saw Hillary Crumple walk out of the assembly hall and make her way toward them. The three of them looked at each other. It wasn’t even a question.
“Let’s take a cab,” Carina said as they headed toward the doors.
Lizzie hadn’t set foot in Ava’s brownstone in years, but she remembered every inch of it: the chandeliers, the steep, creaky staircases, the thick Persian carpets, the tufted couches and chairs done in that curved Louis XIV style. Ava’s mom was a famous interior designer, and every year, Ava would get a new bedroom. In first grade, the theme had been Sleeping Beauty, which meant that she had a graceful canopy over a painted iron bed and luxurious pink and purple velvet pillows. In fifth grade it had changed to Moroccan Casbah, with rich tapestries and a curtain of mosquito netting surrounding her bed on the floor. Now Lizzie wasn’t sure what it was—she hadn’t been invited over to Ava’s since the seventh grade.
“You think this is a good idea?” Hudson whispered, as Lizzie rang the doorbell.
“I’m sure she won’t care,” Lizzie said.
“You’re so ballsy all of a sudden,” Hudson said admiringly.
Lizzie let the compliment sink in. Maybe she was different now, she thought.
Finally a defeated-looking housekeeper answered the door, and with a shrug she gestured for them to step into the foyer. The party was in full swing. People from Chadwick and other schools milled around with red plastic cups. Music came from the dining room in the back. Lizzie heard feet trampling the stairs above them. As usual, Ava’s party had drawn most of the entire fourteen-year-old population of Manhattan.
“So what’s the plan?” Hudson asked.
“Let’s look for food,” Carina announced. “Where’s the kitchen?”
Lizzie scanned the crowd for Todd. He had to be here.
“Oops.” Hudson dug her BlackBerry out of her purse. “Chris just texted me.”
“Your lov-ah?” Carina asked.
“My producer. We’re moving studios. He just booked us another one.”
“Does he know you’re in love with him?” Carina teased.
Hudson put her BlackBerry away. “Please. We have a completely professional relationship. And he’s twenty-eight.”
“Just don’t let Ava know that you like him,” Lizzie quipped, just as Todd walked into the hall holding a red cup and wearing a blue button-down shirt.
“Lizzie,” he said, stopping in his tracks.
Before she could say anything Ken Clayman tumbled out of the kitchen behind him and plowed right into Todd’s shoulders. He stumbled toward her. A moment later Lizzie felt something cold spill all over the front of her dress.
It was from Todd’s plastic cup. She looked down. A large purple stain was quickly spreading across the front of her brand-new dress. It had a familiar smell.
“Is this grape juice?” she asked, sniffing.
Todd blushed. “I’m so sorry,” he said stiffly. “Here, let me help you.”
“You still drink that?” This suddenly struck her as unbelievably adorable.
“Once in a while,” he mumbled. “Hold on. There’s a bathroom upstairs.”
Taking by the hand, he led her up the steps and into a small powder room at the top of the stairs. He closed the door behind her, then turned on the faucet and ripped some Kleenexes out of the tissue box. “Really sorry about that,” he said once more.
“Okay, stop. You’ve just said sorry about forty-five times.” She grabbed a washcloth and wet it under the water. “You’re so English.”
She wanted to tell him that he could have spilled six glasses of grape juice on her. All she cared about was that they were alone together in a small space.
A very small space, it turned out. The powder room was just big enough for a toilet and a sink. He sat down on the counter, trying to fold his long legs in toward himself, with his feet on the toilet lid.
“I’m glad you guys came by,” he said. “I was gonna tell you about it but I thought you wouldn’t want to come.”
“Why not?” she asked, dabbing at her dress.
Todd didn’t say anything for a moment. “I got the sense you weren’t so keen on Ava after she asked you to help with her party.” He picked up an expensive-looking vanilla candle and studied it.
“No, I didn’t mind,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to criticize him.
“Hey, I saw that picture of you in the magazine,” he said, putting the candle down. “I told you you’re hot. You didn’t believe me.”
She rolled her eyes at him and tried not to blush. “It was just one picture.”
“It was a good one. I bet you become just as famous as your mom.”
Lizzie looked down at her dress. Suddenly this seemed like a little too much. Why was Todd always flirting with her? “I doubt it,” she said. “And what’d Ava think of it?”
Todd stared at her. “What?”
“Did she like it?”
Todd looked completely thrown. “I don’t know… I guess so. We didn’t ex
actly talk about it.”
“Are you guys, you know… in love?” She couldn’t resist. And why couldn’t she ask him this anyway, if they were just friends?
“In love?” He started to fidget on the counter. “We just started hanging out.”
“Well, you guys do spend a lot of time together, so I just thought I’d ask,” she said casually. “And if you are, I’m really happy for you.”
Todd furrowed his brows and hunched his shoulders. “You are?” he asked.
She’d dug herself into a hole, one that was about to collapse over her. “Uh… well,” she started. “Yeah…”
And then the door suddenly opened.
“Todd?”
Ava stood in the doorway, wobbling on her snakeskin heels. Her saucer-shaped eyes looked glassy, her cheeks were flushed, and her normally bouncing curls looked deflated and flat. Lizzie could smell the beer on her.
“What are you guys doing?” she asked suspiciously, her eyes darting from one to the other of them as she fingered her necklace.
“Oh, I just spilled something on Lizzie’s dress,” Todd explained, springing to his feet.
“Yeah,” Lizzie chimed in. “I was just getting a stain out—”
Ava’s injured glare stopped them both cold. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she snapped at Todd. “Can I talk to you?”
Ava lurched past Lizzie into the room. Lizzie had no choice but to step outside into the hall, and before she knew it, the bathroom door slammed in her face. Through the door, she could hear Ava’s and Todd’s muffled voices. It sounded like they were having a fight. A bad fight.
Oh my God, she thought. Ava Elting was jealous.
She marched down the steps. Luckily, Hudson and Carina were waiting for her right at the bottom.
“We’re out of here,” Lizzie said, heading straight for the door.
“What happened up there?” Hudson asked.
“Nothing good,” Lizzie replied.
All she’d wanted to do was finally talk about Ava with him, instead of pretending that he didn’t have a girlfriend. So why did she get the feeling that bringing her up had hurt his feelings? And why had she felt bad about it?
The Daughters Page 14
