When I reappeared in the Oscar store, the girls were stunned to see me with a bag.
“No way! You found a dress?” Iman squealed. “Lemme see!”
I was nervous about revealing the secondhand status but unzipped the garment bag anyway.
“Chic. I looove it!” Tiggy cried. “Galliano? So hot.”
“It’s so sexy yet classic,” Rioko chimed in.
“It’s very cool that you would do something different,” said Iman.
“Well…” I was getting ready to tell them that I didn’t have any money to spend on clothes, but before I could Victoria interrupted.
“Love it,” Victoria gushed.
Maybe they knew I didn’t have dough and didn’t care. Or maybe they thought I wasn’t that into clothes. It didn’t matter. Either way I was just psyched to get a cool dress that everyone liked. We all left with garment bags over our shoulders, all the others spending more than a hundred times what I had. Amazing.
When we got back to school I was so pooped from our expedition I barely remembered dinner with Antony. He came by to scoop me up and I was flopped on my bed.
“You tired from your clothing orgy, my dear?” he said, sitting on my bed and stroking my hair.
“Oh, I got this great Galliano dress—”
“Nice!”
“It was at this cool vintage store, Emmeline’s—”
“Ha! You kill me! Vintage! You’re so funny. As if.” He patted my head and leaned in to kiss me.
His lips were soft, and while I usually felt a fluttering in my chest when we kissed, I was distracted, wondering why he thought that was so funny. Maybe people in Europe weren’t as into vintage? Hmm.
Antony gently guided me back so that I was lying down. We continued kissing, and it started to get more intense. I hoped Antony wasn’t expecting anything. I mean, I was definitely not going to have sex with him. Not in the near future, anyway. Call me a prude, but I had seen too many girls on the base go too far only to regret it.
Antony gently started to slide his hand up my skirt and I immediately sat up as if the bed was on fire.
“What?” he whispered.
“Um, not ready for that yet,” I said.
“Really?” he said.
“Yes, can we just keep with the kissing?”
He looked at me and I could swear for a second he was about to protest, get mad, storm away, but suddenly his face changed and he smiled.
“Of course, darling.”
He leaned in and kissed me for another three seconds before pulling away.
“You seem tired from all of your shopping. I think I’ll leave you be now,” he said, standing up.
This was abrupt. “Um, okay,” I said, kind of embarrassed. “Is it because…”
“No, no,” he said quickly, tucking his shirt in. “I just think you should rest, and I need to study.”
“What about dinner?”
“Oh, um, I’m not really hungry, are you?” he asked, pushing the hair out of his eyes.
Yes. Very. “No, not really.”
“Great, then see you later,” he said quickly, and was out of the door in two seconds flat.
I was stunned. What had just happened? I wished I had someone to talk to about it, but I knew Rioko was playing violin at the headmistress’s cocktail party tonight and I really didn’t want to reveal my prudishness to the Diamonds. I clicked on my computer and was forlorn to see there was nothing from Friend.
Are you out there, Friend?
I had really come to rely on this cyber person with whom I could be completely candid. I didn’t expect an answer but a second later there was a response.
Yeah. How’s it going?
Yay!
Where the heck have you been?
I waited and the response came.
Sorry. Wasn’t feeling well. How’s everything?
I couldn’t type fast enough.
I just don’t get boys. Am I naive? What is their deal? Sometimes they are so honest, other times they seem to play weird games.
It seemed like an eternity before Friend answered. I had called and ordered room service (chopped sirloin with Roquefort cheese and potatoes au gratin) and finished my math homework before Friend got back to me.
I think you have to make sure YOU are sure about the guys in your life. What do your instincts tell you?
Okay, thanks, Friend. I waited half an hour for you to be cryptic?
I don’t know what my instincts tell me. That’s why I’m asking you?
I waited and waited for a response. I was tired, so instead of waiting I quickly typed another response.
Have to go to bed. I hope you feel better soon.
I gulped down my food and got in my cozy bed. I lay back, worrying about the crack-of-dawn tennis practice, my strange interaction with Antony, and Friend’s distance. Finally I decided to focus on the positive. I was definitely happy the term was winding down, and now, with my vintage gown, I felt that after tennis and final papers and exams I could finally enjoy the ball with my new sort-of friends and go out of the semester with a bang. Everything would go well, I told myself. I just hoped Sofia wouldn’t be up to any of her old games.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Oliver was friendlier at practice the next morning. He said hello, and when I rallied him, he even threw out a few “Nice shots.” But he didn’t acknowledge the letter I wrote him, and he was still kind of distant. I decided the only way to react was to be normal and hope that whatever was going on would work itself out.
After sweating like a pig, and enduring a grueling practice where Coach Sachs warned us every five seconds how we were lousy compared to the kids at Gagosian, we were released. My arms were sore from the massive amount of lobs and overheads I’d had to do. Coach thought they were my weakness, so he kept firing balls at me until my arm was about to snap off. I don’t think he had any interest in my long-term physical well-being. As long as I played well for him, it was okay if in ten years I got arthritis or had to have all of my joints replaced.
I showered in the locker room, then started to head to class. As I turned down the path, I nestled into my coat. It was starting to get colder, and pretty soon practices would be moved indoors. It was high time. There had been snowflakes several days the week before and promises of big snowstorms this weekend. We had begged to at least do the playing inside, offering to run laps outside, but Coach Sachs thought that it made us tougher to practice in this frigid weather. I personally thought it was dangerous. Did he want us to be injured for the big game? I was arguing with him in my mind, not paying attention to anything else, when suddenly I realized that I was almost face-to-face with Sofia.
We both stopped and stared at each other. She was wearing all black, and even her face looked dark and sinister. I felt like I was in a horror movie and was the stupid one who said “I’ll go check on Bobby” when everyone else knew that would mean I was the next to get the ax in my head.
“Hey, Sofia,” I said. I felt my voice crack.
She glared at me. “You stupid girl. You are going to pay for what you did to me.”
My stomach dropped. Like, to China.
“What do you mean?”
“You just have to watch your back. You’re not all innocent as you pretend to be. I know it, but do your new best friends know it? Do they know the truth about you?”
Suddenly I straightened my posture. My mother had always told me to stand up straight, so I knew she would be thrilled that I was finally taking her advice. I hoped it made me look more confident. But it didn’t squelch the fear that Sofia had set in me.
“If you say anything about Gab! it will only get you in trouble also,” I said.
“Will it?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Of course,” I said with fake confidence.
She stared at me again. “Do you think they’ll believe a scholarship student? You need the money more than me. Do your friends even know you’re a scholarship student? Wh
at would they think?”
I was prepared for this. Of course I didn’t want it broadcast, but I couldn’t let that stop me from doing the right thing. That would be pathetic.
“Everyone I care about knows,” I lied. Gulp. I hoped she would buy that.
“See, Lucy,” she said, eyes glistening, “I’m smarter than you, I’m more sophisticated than you, and I have nothing to lose.”
She quickly brushed past me and walked up the hill. I wished I had some comeback, wished there was something I could say to defend myself, but of course nothing came. To tell the truth, I was scared of her. And she was more sophisticated than me, at least in terms of doing evil deeds. Sorry, I’m not a criminal mastermind! I don’t think that way.
A chilly breeze whipped across my face and then curled down my spine. What did Sofia have planned? Would it be soon? Or would I be skiing in France in twenty years and find her on the mountaintop waiting to push me over? How would I know? I just had to brace myself.
Chapter Forty
I was perusing the racks of leather-bound notebooks embossed with the Van Pelt crest at the school store when I heard Chérie’s laughter coming from the register. She was always giggling excessively at whatever the male students said to her, so I usually blocked her out, but this time her hoots were particularly high-pitched so I turned to look. Antony and Rolf were standing next to her, both whispering in her ear.
Just as Antony leaned in to tell her something, his eyes met mine and his face changed.
“Lucy!” he said enthusiastically.
“Hey,” I rasped. It was literally like there was a frog in my throat.
Antony came rushing over, as Rolf and Chérie eyed me curiously. “How are you, darling?” he said, pecking me on both cheeks European style.
“Fine.”
“I was just coming to collect you. Can we go and have some hot chocolate?”
“Um, okay, but I need to pay for this.”
“Allow me,” said Antony, scooping up my notebooks and rushing over to the counter.
“Chérie, it’s a charge,” he said coldly. Chérie looked surprised at how frosty he was acting but marked it in her book.
“Come along,” said Antony.
“Catch you later,” said Rolf, who immediately resumed whispering to Chérie.
We walked to the caffè in silence. What was the deal with Antony and Chérie? It was like every corner I turned, there they were. I finally decided I had to say something.
“So what’s going on, Antony?” I asked, hoping he would fill in the blanks.
“What do you mean?” he replied.
“I have seen you now several times with Chérie. Do you have, like, a thing for her?”
Antony gave an exaggerated laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Well, it’s suspicious….”
“Come on! I would never go for trash like that. Her father is a plumber! No, no, that’s Rolf’s bird. He just always needs me to cover for him because of Lena.”
Lena was Rolf’s Swedish girlfriend. Beautiful, but as cold as the glacier-filled country she’d been born in.
“But why do you have to cover for him?”
He stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. “Because he’s my friend. Don’t worry, Lucy, I would never cheat on you. And it really insults me that you would think I would go for a harlot like that. And she’s from a pitiful family.”
The last part struck me most of all. “Who cares about her family?” I asked.
Antony laughed as if I were a foolish child. “You’re even more American than I am, Lucy. But come on, you know,” he said, and commenced walking again.
I remained firmly in place. “No, not really.”
Antony stopped and came back to me. He smiled at me, then kissed me on the forehead. “That’s what I adore about you. You are such a good soul. You’re not snobby at all.”
“Why would I be?”
“You’re right. No one should be.”
“But why did you say that about her family?” I asked again.
“Oh, you know, her parents have three teeth between them. Her mother…” He looked at me and stopped. “They’re just not the nicest people. You don’t want to spend time with them. I’m sure your family is much nicer, but that’s not even the point. I am wild about you!”
He grabbed my hand and I continued walking with him. We ran into a bunch of his friends and all ended up together at the caffè. But again I felt like there was some sort of disconnect between Antony and me. In the past, he’d made sense to me. But not so much anymore. Did I really know him?
Chapter Forty-One
It was the night before my match and my heart was pounding. This would be my launchpad into the league’s circuit because no one had ever seen me play and I had to either live up to the buzz or fade to anonymous toast. I lay there, thoughts tromping across one another in a confusing collage. What was up with my relationship with Antony? Would I bomb this game? What havoc would Sofia wreak on my life? Was it a mistake to come here?
As all these worries and more fiesta’d in my overactive brain, I slowly fell asleep. I woke up bleary-eyed and then focused on the clock. Oh my god, nine thirty?! I had arranged through the concierge for a wake-up call at eight! Holy crap. I was supposed to be warming up by now! I quickly dialed the front desk to ask what had happened to my call.
“Je suis désolé, I’m sorry, but zee record shows you phoned at one sixteen to cancel zee wake-up call….”
At 1:16? I was long in zzzz’s land by then; how could…Sofia! That bitch. She was trying to sabotage me on my most important day at Van Pelt thus far. Evil. Serves me right for relying on such a fancy switchboard that the school offered, hotel style.
I bolted for the fastest shower in history and ran at top speed to the courts, which were a world away.
“Where you been, Lucy?” Coach Sachs demanded. I already saw my opponents—complete with their own water boys—warming up on the outside courts.
“I’m sorry, I…overslept.”
“Overslept! Overslept? You think I ever heard Sharapova say that when I trained her? Get the hell out there.”
I rallied with one of the assistant coaches for a while, and then Coach Sachs had us pack it up and head inside. On game days we had the whole tennis staff in full uniform with the Van Pelt crest in gold on the burgundy swish-swish zip-up suits. There were professional ball boys, refs, and ticket people brought in. I hadn’t quite understood the need for the ticket systems, but then I heard it. The noise.
“What’s that?” I asked. The subtle roar grew louder and louder as we made our way through the labyrinth of underground passages.
“What do you think?” asked Victoria.
Just as I was about to inquire further, we turned into the main door that led to the stadium floor. As the double doors opened in front of me, I was stunned to see and hear that roar burst into focus: it was the wild, unbridled applause of thousands. Not just the whole school, but also members of the community were there, freaking out.
I looked up at the stands, my eyes like saucers. It was huge! I felt like a total rock star. Though the match was an exhibition, it was really going to showcase who had the chops for the spring season and so, as Victoria had warned me, “Everything counts here.”
I heard the announcer say my name over the loudspeaker and I could hardly believe it. In all my life, I’d never played at this level, complete with full stands. Coach Sachs sat beside me at my umbrella station and I caught a glimpse of the girl I’d be playing. In a word: Uh-oh. She was a six-foot Aryan Amazon type, with huge muscles and a blond ponytail that hung to her bum. She unzipped her Gagosian jacket and began practicing serves. Gulp.
I tried to stay focused and sipped some water as I looked up into the massive crowd. I didn’t see anyone I knew! There was just a blank sea of faces. I scanned my teammates seated in the front row. The higher ranked players had to go first while the others waited. Suddenly I noticed a hand waving at me to snap me out
of my outer-space realm. It was Oliver. He was smiling brightly and I lit up with happiness to have the ice now broken.
I took to the courts. I chose heads for the coin toss. Whoops, it was tails. They literally used an antique gold coin from Rome—apparently it was a school tradition. Amazon took her place and aced me. Right away, the first shot of the day. Darn.
The next one I valiantly returned, only to have her crush it back. The sharp “oohs” from the stadium stands were not helping; it seemed like my whole school was cringing at my screw-ups. She won the game. And the next, though by a smaller margin. After we’d hit 3–love, I looked back to where Oliver was, and he gave me a thumbs-up with an encouraging look that suddenly infused me with more support than the legions of cheering fans. Amazon, already complacent in her assured victory, was cockily waiting for my serve, and not in a ready position, so I caught her off guard when I smashed my serve with the fastest ace of the day. The crowd roared and the boom lifted my ego and serve higher. Bam. Crushed the next one, and the next. Over the next six games the rallies were killer and I had to fight for each point, but I’d proven my chops for sure. Yes, it took me a little longer to get in the game, but once I was there…I’d arrived. I’d picked up the first set, much to the shock and dismay of my opponent, and beat her 6–3. I headed into the second set on fire. And the flame didn’t burn out. At one point, I faltered at 4–4, noticing Antony and Rolf laughing in the stands, wondering what they were talking about. But then I spied Rioko, Tiggy, and Iman, all clapping for me. Relieved to see pals, I crushed that ball into the last square centimeter of the serve box, acing her again, and ended up winning the match in an endless point that, when finished with a volley just over the net, sent the crowd to the moon.
Jet Set Page 13
