“So, how’s your history paper coming along?” I asked, making conversation.
“Oh, yes, good. I finished it this weekend,” she said modestly.
“Already? Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! You are way ahead of the curve,” I said, impressed.
She looked down at her toes. I’m sure she was wondering if I realized she was Friend and wanted to cut to the chase.
“Listen, Rioko, I am assuming it’s you who has been sending me those emails. And I just want to say that I totally appreciate it. They have really made my day and gotten me through some tough times. But you haven’t been online lately—most likely jamming on your paper—and I thought maybe we could talk in person. Because I really need your advice.”
She suddenly appeared confused. “Emails? You mean when I asked you for the homework?”
“No, I mean…aren’t you ‘Friend’?”
She smiled. “I consider you a friend, Lucy. I don’t have many….”
“No, I mean, don’t you send me those anonymous emails cheering me up and giving me advice? Don’t you sign off as ‘Friend’?” If it wasn’t Rioko, who could it be?
But Rioko shook her head. “Sorry, Lucy. It’s not me.”
I was devastated. All along I had thought she was the one. Who would know that the Diamonds were doing something to my door? Who would offer nice advice? Not Sofia. It had to be someone in the dorm, right? But who?
“No, I’m sorry. I just assumed it was you. But no problem,” I added quickly.
“Okay,” she said. I could tell she was a little puzzled.
“Listen, I really do want to be your friend. I don’t have many!”
Rioko’s face brightened. “Me either! I feel like the biggest nerd in the school. I mean, I know that musicians are considered nerds, but everyone here seems so…cool.”
I looked at her and suddenly we both started laughing. Hysterically. And for the next hour we chatted and gossiped and had the best time. Once she opened up, it was as if every thought and opinion and observation just came rushing out of her. And Rioko was funny. She had a very simple way of describing people that was brutally honest without being mean.
I told her as much as I could about the last couple of days—not the details about what Sofia and I had done, but that we’d had a falling-out. I even told her about the Diamonds searching my room and finally realizing that Sofia had planted Iman’s earrings. It all came rushing out. And she was the right person to tell. The Diamonds had been mean to her also, and she could not stand Sofia, which I thought was funny. She saw through everything. When I got to Oliver, she oohed and aahed over him as I did. But her last comment cut me to the heart.
“I totally sympathize with you, Lucy, but you know that Oliver is taken.”
I gulped. I knew it but didn’t know it. “Angelina?”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I heard that he asked her to the Winter Ball ages ago.”
Ages ago? That stung. So I never had a chance. Why did I care? I had Antony.
“I shouldn’t care. I have Antony.”
Rioko nodded sympathetically. “And he’s a good guy to you?”
“I think so, why? Do you know something?”
I could tell Rioko was contemplating whether or not to tell me something. She looked off in the distance, then chose her words carefully. “I don’t know, Lucy. I mean, you would know better, I don’t know. But…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. I always see him hanging out with that girl who works in the store, you know, the one with the va-va-va-vooms.”
Chérie. “I saw them also.”
“But maybe they’re just friends,” she quickly added.
“Maybe. But maybe it’s time he and I have another conversation about her.”
“Sorry, Lucy.”
“Don’t worry. I like to get everything out in the open. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
But I didn’t get a chance to see Antony the next day. I had planned on going to the caffè after classes to find him, but as I was walking down the hall of the dorm Iman saw me pass and called me into her room. Victoria and Antigone were in there also, both casually sitting on the floor cross-legged, looking through old magazines.
“Hey there,” they said casually.
I wondered if I had been called in for a reason.
“So what is the deal with Sofia? Did you hear anything?” asked Victoria.
“She’s been quiet lately. She turns the other way if she sees me and glares at me across the lunchroom. I’m scared at what she may be planning,” I confessed. It had been really worrying me lately. It was not like Sofia to make herself invisible.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her,” said Victoria with confidence.
“Anyway, Lucy, we were just talking about you,” Antigone said, and the other girls glanced at her and nodded.
Okay…“What’s up?”
“We decided that we think we should be friends,” said Iman, as if she were granting me a Nobel Prize.
“Yeah, we think we could add another Diamond,” said Antigone. “A junior one.”
“An apprentice,” said Iman quickly.
At first I was truly flattered, and very excited. They want me to be their friend! YAY! The cool girls. But then I had to take a deep breath and really think about this. I had done some bad stuff to them, but they had been really mean and nasty to me. And to Rioko, who was now my only friend.
“Guys,” I began. “Until now you’ve not been very nice to me. You really hurt Rioko’s feelings when you laughed through her violin recital in Assembly. And it’s not cool doing petty things to people like not letting them sit with you at the lunch table. I was new and felt like a nerd when you did that. Not to mention making fun of my clothes, and who can forget the redecoration of my door?”
“But it didn’t seem like you cared!” said Victoria, astonished. “You come in here, take my place on the tennis team, become BFFs with Oliver, the most sought-after boy at the school, and act all casual like it’s nothing!”
“First off, it’s not my fault about tennis. I feel bad that I took your spot, but I’m just trying to play my best.”
“I know, but I worked hard for number one!” said Victoria.
“Who knows, Victoria, it can all change! As far as I know you can take private lessons with Steffi Graf this summer and become number one next year.”
“Boris Becker,” she said quietly.
“See, I’m not taking lessons with a pro! You have the upper hand.”
“True,” said Antigone. “It’s not her fault.”
“And as far as sitting at the table, I mean, hello? I’m new here. I don’t know the routine. And I only had Sofia to teach me the ropes, and we all know how that turned out.”
We all laughed.
“And about Oliver…I think he’s my friend, but he’s a hard one to read….”
“I know, isn’t he?” asked Iman. “So friendly one second and reserved the next.”
“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him,” explained Victoria. “I think it’s hard for him to let himself be totally carefree.”
“But, God, is he hot!” Antigone giggled.
“Gorgeous,” said Victoria.
“Smokin’!” I chimed in.
Before we knew it, we had dissolved into fits of girlish laughter. Once they let their guard down, they actually weren’t half bad. Most of their attitude seemed to be a pretense, and they’d been impressed with how I stood up to them. We talked things out, and the Diamonds agreed to apologize to Rioko and to try not to torture newbies. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship….
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There had been a lot of flux in the friendship department and I couldn’t believe the current state of affairs. I was now enemies with Sofia and friends with the Diamonds. Oliver was keeping me at bay, but at the same time, Angelina was being really nice. She’d asked me to study with her one nigh
t in the dorm, and we even had pizza another night. It was all confusing.
Ultimately I decided to switch off all the personal stuff and keep my eyes on the prize: winning the upcoming match. I spent all my time on the courts, and Coach Sachs fired balls at me until I thought I’d pass out. I had tunnel vision, smashing that yellow furry orb with everything I had. I was on fire! Nothing could stop me! Nothing…but Oliver. The only thing that broke my focus was looking around when he was in the vicinity. He was still acting weird. I didn’t even care that he was going to the Winter Ball with Angelina—at that point I just missed him as an ally, a pal I could plop down with at Le Ciel and just be myself. Sometimes I thought he was the only person I’d truly connected with and who I felt at ease with in my own skin, without judgments.
After practice one day I said hi to him and got a tepid response. I was so fed up, wondering what I’d done to merit this, that I went back to my dorm and called my sister.
Amanda and I had not really talked all that much lately. We were superclose back home, but I felt like ever since I’d been accepted here, she’d kind of been snippy and judgmental. I knew it was partly jealousy, but also partly that she was worried I would become a spoiled brat. It was a bummer, because my life was so different and I really did need to share it with her. Yes, the guys she talked about were mostly soldiers from the base, and the guys I referred to were princes and counts, but it was still the same set of issues.
“Hey,” I said when she answered the phone. “It’s me.”
“Hey, Luce, how’s it going?”
“Things are fine, how are you?”
I wanted her to be the first to talk. Luckily she’d just been out with a guy the night before who had taken her to a fancy Italian restaurant and bought her red roses, so she was really psyched and in a good mood.
“So what’s up with you?” she asked after giving me the full details about the new man.
“Nothing much….” I said.
“Come on, how’s that guy you like?”
“Antony?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think that was his name…Oliver,” she said.
“I didn’t say I liked him,” I protested.
“Ah, but a sister always knows. So what’s the deal with him?”
I launched into the whole saga, how he was such a good friend and now he was acting weird. I even confided about the Diamonds and told her some of the stuff about Sofia, but not all (I didn’t want to worry her—besides, it was hopefully all over). I mentioned Antony and Chérie, and everything else as well, and when I was done there was a pause.
“Sounds like you need to reach out to Oliver again,” she advised.
“But what if he thinks I’m a dork?” I asked. “Besides, it’s his turn to try to make an overture to me.”
“Don’t be like that. If he’s a genuine friend—despite the fact that you are madly in love with him—you want to see what’s going on. Write him a letter.”
“A letter?”
“You’ve heard of it, right?”
“Ha-ha, okay,” I said. It was actually a good idea.
“So, sis, tell me. Is Oliver a count? A billionaire?”
“He’s seventh in line to the British throne,” I said.
Amanda started laughing. Hysterically. We both laughed for a long time before saying we loved each other and hanging up.
Then I wrote the letter.
Dear Oliver,
I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but I want you to know I never meant to upset you in any way. Please let me know if I’ve done anything to offend you because I really liked our chats together and miss them. Not to mention the fondue.
Your friend, Lucy
I sealed the envelope and left it on my bedside table to drop into the school’s courier system later.
Soon there was a knock on my door. I’d been straightening up my room and turned to find Antony walking in with flowers.
“Hello there, Miss Tennis Star! Everyone’s saying you’re getting primed to cream Gagosian at the match next weekend!”
“Please. I’m a wreck. How are you?”
“Fine, just finished my flying lesson. You have to come up with me—it’s so amazing, Lucy.”
“I still can’t believe they have flying lessons at this school! It’s incredible.”
He came up and put his arms around me and kissed me. “Even more incredible when you’re up there in the clouds feeling so alive—it’s a really sexy feeling.”
Uh-huh. Climbing into a potential death trap at thirty thousand feet didn’t really get my motor running, but I didn’t want to wound the guy.
“What’s this?” he said, picking up the envelope addressed to Oliver. I blushed nervously.
“Nothing, just wrote a quick note to Oliver—just about the match coming up.”
“Oh well, I’m going to the courier office now on my way to the library so I’ll send it for you.”
“You will? Um, thanks, Antony—you’ll save me the trip.”
“My pleasure.”
Antony kissed me on the forehead and left for his studies. I thought of what Rioko had said about Antony and Chérie, and about the day that I had seen them together, but if the suspicion were true, why would he be showing up in my room? I mean, it’s not like I had any great magnetic force to keep bringing him back, right? Plus, I knew more than anyone how rampant rumors were at this school, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and just let it go. Maybe he did shag her in the past, but this was now, and he was taking me to the Winter Ball.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Hurry up! You’re gonna make us late!” snapped Antigone, who now insisted I call her Tiggy, which was a friendship promotion, of sorts. I had introduced the Diamonds formally to Rioko, who had until that point been invisible Casper style to them, save for the fiddle. But Tiggy, Iman, and Victoria took to Rioko’s funny observational candor (“Moabi has short fingers like mozzarella sticks”) and were happy to include her on our foray into Geneva to shop. The Winter Ball was only two weeks away, and we didn’t have anything to wear. Unluckily for me, the Saturday pilgrimage would probably not yield a thing. My body had never been in better shape, thanks to countless hours on the courts, but one thing not in good shape? My finances. I had spent almost the last of my stipend and was worried that the girls would be slappin’ down the plastic while I opened my wallet and had moths fly out of it. Oh well. Maybe I could rent something.
When Tiggy’s driver pulled over on the main shopping street in Geneva, Rue du Rhône, my eyes popped out of my head. Perfectly coiffed elegant women wandered by in five-inch heels, and uniformed schoolchildren hopped into chauffeur-driven cars.
“First stop: Valentino!” pronounced Antigone. “It’s where I got my gown last year, and I am praying they have the right threads again.”
The next few hours were a montage of feathers, sequins, silks, and velvets. Prada, Chanel, Carolina Herrera, Armani, Lanvin, Celine, Vuitton, Fendi—the works. I was practically dizzy. In each boutique, salespeople fell over one another to whisk us into a grand dressing room, serve us Perrier with lemon wedges, and show us the “perfect” gown for our ball. At one point, as Victoria was twirling in a purple chiffon frock, I heard two salesgirls whisper, “My favorite time of year—all those spoiled Van Pelt kids come cruising in for their ball with Daddy’s credit cards!” They shared a squeal with dollar signs in their eyes just thinking of the commission they’d rack up.
And they did. Iman was torn between two gowns—one silver beaded gown at Prada and one luminous white one at J. Mendel—so she bought both.
Tiggy just loved a black velvet gown by Olivier Theyskens and snapped it up, along with not one, not two, but three pairs of matching high heels and evening bags for each. While Rioko was deciding between a Dior yellow one-shoulder, floor-length sweeping gown and an Oscar de la Renta pink confection, I decided to quickly run out and get some air. I’d spent the last five hours trying on gowns I knew I could never aff
ord, and frankly the oohing and aahing over the other girls had taken its toll.
I don’t think the girls realized that I couldn’t afford the dresses, even though they’d seen the sad shape of my closet. I think they lived in such a bubble they had no idea other people weren’t multimillionaires. I wasn’t hiding it—I never pretended that I was in the market for a gown at one of the fancy stores—but I also didn’t say outright, “I couldn’t afford even a button at these places.” I knew that it would just make them uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to be in that sort of position myself.
I walked outside into the brisk twilight air and drank in the Geneva hills, the winding streets covered in charming cobblestones, dotted with perfect green trees, and glistening beneath the now electric blue sky. Around the corner, I saw a small gilded sign that read EMMELINE’S CLOSET.
It was a teeny-tiny shop—no bigger than my walk-in closet at Van Pelt, with a cool-looking thirtysomething woman reading a magazine at the counter. A little bell chimed as I opened the door.
“Bonjour!” she said as I surveyed the funky store, which had hot-pink carpet and leopard walls. “Welcome to the only vintage store in Geneva!”
“This is so cool!” I gushed, looking at the racks of old McQueen and Galliano. The prices were one tenth of what my friends were spending and when I spied a bin marked SOLDE (which meant “sale”), I suspected I might have hit the jackpot.
“All eighty percent off!” said the woman as I dug around in the bin, retrieving the most stunning crimson strapless, pleated Galliano dress. I looked at the price: one hundred Euros.
The saleswoman surveyed my find. “The button is broken so I give it to you for fifty!” she pronounced. I was floored. Fifty bucks? Okay, maybe a little more with the exchange rate, but jeez! Talk about a steal! That was the fastest money I’d ever parted with. She wrapped it with as much care as she would have if she’d sold me a five-thousand-euro dress.
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