Jet Set

by Carrie Karasyov

  “Come on,” said Antony.

  “We never had it on base, believe it or not.”

  “What base?” asked Antony.

  “My father’s in the army,” I said. We’d never specifically talked about my family, but I didn’t want it to be a secret. It’s not like I’d hidden anything else about my financial situation from Antony, and I would never hide where I came from.

  He looked confused and his brow furrowed. “What? He’s in the army?”

  “Yeah, you know, to protect and to serve…”

  Tiggy, who had heard the tail end of our conversation, chimed in. “Did you hear that Prince Harry is thinking of giving up military service? They say Harry’s girlfriend wants him around more,” she continued, taking a big bite of caviar.

  “Is that true, Oliver?” asked Rolf.

  I could tell Tiggy had forgotten that Oliver was related to Harry because she immediately turned bright red.

  “Um, that’s what I read in Gab!, anyway….” she said, embarrassed.

  “That’s what I read also. That bloke doesn’t keep in touch with the family. Probably too busy with the girlfriend,” said Oliver, winking at Tiggy. She smiled. That was what was so great about Oliver. So many people could have made a big stink that someone was gossiping about their family, but instead he tried to make Tiggy feel better. It also reinforced the danger of going to a school like Van Pelt. You couldn’t really gossip about anyone because everyone there was related to someone rich and famous. And then you had people like Sofia who were lurking about taking notes. I shivered just thinking of her. I had scanned the crowd for her but didn’t see her anywhere.

  “Are you cold?” asked Antony, rubbing my back.

  “No, it’s okay, there was just a breeze.”

  Antony continued to rub my back. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get a cold. Your father would never forgive me. And now that I know that he can use a gun, well, that changes everything. Not only is he a corporate raider, he’s got a mean shot.”

  Corporate raider? More like corporal. Before I could ask Antony what the heck he was talking about Rolf yelled across the table.

  “So what was up with the cheesy entrance, Oliver? I mean, a horse and buggy? You looked like a tourist in Central Park.”

  I expected Oliver to get angry, but instead he laughed. “God-awful, right?”

  “Did you plan that?” asked Moabi.

  “No way!” said Oliver quickly. “It’s an unfortunate tradition with my family—you know, the past members who have attended Van Pelt. I begged and pleaded to be let off the hook, but my uncle, who’s on the board, likes to see me squirm, so he insisted….”

  I stared at Angelina, anticipating that she would be upset that Oliver was so dismissive of what I thought to be a romantic gesture, but she surprised me.

  “Outdated and tacky. Like royals,” she said with a sly smile.

  “There, there,” said Oliver jokingly.

  “Ah, she tells it like it is,” said Antony.

  Oliver shot Antony a look of contempt. He was willing to laugh at himself with people he liked, but it was clear that Antony was not one of them. Antony turned to me.

  “We should all just buy titles. Sell them to the highest bidder. Maybe your dad could become King of England,” said Antony, looking at me and then shooting Oliver a harsh look.

  “My dad? Yeah, right,” I said with a fake laugh. Why was Antony bringing up my dad at the table? I was really not in the mood to illuminate my financial differences at the ball.

  “Lucy’s dad just got voted the second richest man in the EU. That’s way above your family, Oliver,” said Antony, sneering at Oliver.

  “What are you talking about?” I said, confused.

  “You don’t have to be modest,” said Antony smugly. “It’s cool that your dad dominates the steel industry.”

  “My dad doesn’t dominate the steel industry,” I said. I could feel everyone at the table staring at me intently. I so didn’t want to be having this conversation here.

  “You can stop, Luce. It’s okay to be wealthy. I mean, I know you like the perks. Luce tells me that she won’t sleep on sheets that are under a thousand thread count,” Antony added proudly, staring straight at Oliver. I watched Oliver look at him and then turn to me.

  “Are you kidding? I was joking when I said that,” I whispered.

  “Right. Like you were joking about how poor the maid service is, and how you fly your own planes.”

  “Yes,” I said, my face red and hot. “It’s called sarcasm!”

  “But isn’t your dad Robert Peterson?” he asked accusatorily.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Robert Peterson the steel magnate?” he asked with vehemence. I felt like I was a witness being grilled by the prosecution.

  “Uh…no. Corporal Robert Peterson of the U.S. Army,” I said softly. “Wrong Google result, I think. You must be confused.”

  Antony’s lips quivered. “What the hell?” he muttered.

  “Does anyone want to dance?” asked Oliver loudly. “The music is lovely.”

  Before she could respond, Oliver had grabbed Angelina’s hand and started to lead her to the dance floor. On his way, I saw him tap Moabi and Maxwell, who followed suit with their dates. Soon even Rolf and his date got up and Antony and I were left alone. Antony wasn’t looking at me. He kept sipping his water furiously as if he had just been trapped in the desert for a year and was totally dehydrated. I didn’t even know where to begin, I was so confused.

  “You bloody liar,” he muttered, still not looking at me.

  “Excuse me? I’m a liar? What did I lie about?” I asked, dizzy with humiliation.

  “You let me believe you were rich….”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I was joking when I said all that stuff about the food being bad and the service being poor. It was so obviously an exaggeration. Nothing is better than this place. I’ve never had it so good. That’s why I just assumed that you were in on the joke.”

  “Still…,” he said.

  “I don’t know where you got the idea that I was rich.”

  “In the facebook. It says your father’s name, that you live in Germany, and there’s just a P.O. box listed….”

  “Yes, I do, and all that’s true. But it’s a military P.O.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were poor? No doubt you’re on scholarship?”

  I felt like I had been slapped. “That’s none of your business.”

  Antony shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “Just brilliant.”

  Suddenly my blood started to boil. “So it matters to you that I’m on scholarship? Were you just dating me because you thought I was rich? And I suppose you really are hooking up with Chérie?”

  I could tell that Antony was debating what to say. He was quiet for a moment, then threw his head back and started to laugh. But it was more like a cackle. The evil cackle that the Wicked Witch has when she’s about to do something horrible.

  “I’m not that sort of person,” said Antony, abruptly turning to face me.

  “Yeah, right.” I sat back in my chair, disgusted.

  “Come on, let’s go dance. I’ll prove it to you,” he said, standing up and offering me his hand.

  “No thanks.”

  “Come on,” he said forcefully. He yanked my hand and started to drag me out to the parquet dance floor. At that moment I had a decision to make. I could break away and leave, undoubtedly making a fuss that everyone would talk about for weeks, maybe even months, to come or I could just go along with it. It took all my strength, but I decided to do the latter. I certainly didn’t want to dance with Antony after what I’d just learned about him, but I didn’t want to create a scene. I was done with scenes.

  I’d heard of dirty dancing, but I’d never heard of angry dancing, which is exactly what Antony and I were doing. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. It was as if my face were so repulsive that it would kill him to make eye contac
t. Not that I particularly wanted to look at him, but it was awkward to dance with someone whose head was at such an angle that all you were looking at was a mole below the ear.

  “I’m done,” I said after a break in the first song.

  “What are you talking about? We’ve only just begun.”

  I started to walk away, but he snapped me back toward him so forcefully that my body thudded into his. Tears immediately sprang into my eyes. What had I done to deserve this? Don’t cry, don’t cry, I pleaded with myself.

  “May I?”

  I turned around and saw Oliver standing next to us, Angelina behind him. “I’d like this dance, if you’d be so gracious as to dance with my lovely partner.”

  Not taking no for an answer, Oliver placed Angelina’s hand in Antony’s and scooped me away. Talk about knight in shining armor.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, semihumiliated.

  “I should be thanking you,” he said briskly.

  We danced along in silence. I was still burning with mortification and anger, so much so that it took me a few minutes to compose myself and realize that Oliver was an amazing dancer.

  “I hope it’s okay with Angelina that you’re dancing with me,” I said, suddenly realizing how ticked off I would be if the reverse had happened.

  “Aw, don’t worry. She’s a trooper.”

  A trooper? That sounded…not very romantic.

  “I appreciate it. I guess you were right about Antony,” I said, swallowing my pride. “I just had a serious wake-up call. I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me—” I stopped, trying to prevent the tears from burning their way down my cheeks.

  “Don’t let him bother you. He’s a wanker,” Oliver said with a smile.

  I wanted to say more but decided not to. A slow dance came on and I nestled my head on Oliver’s shoulder and imagined what it would be like if I were his girlfriend. Things would be so great. I wouldn’t have to stick around the next two hours pretending to be into Antony. The rest of this night was going to be torture.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Back at the table, the main course was being served. It was Poulet de Bresse with rich butter oozing out of the first cut, accompanied by a rich risotto. A series of servers paraded to the table with our plates covered with silver domes, which were all whipped off at the same exact moment, followed by each server taking out a white truffle and shaving it copiously onto our risotto in synchronized movements.

  Too bad the seat remained empty next to me. Not that I cared, but I looked around the ballroom to see where Antony was. MIA.

  Everyone marveled at the amazing food, but I felt hollow inside. It was like New Year’s Eve, where you felt such extreme pressure to have fun, but alas, the stars were not aligned that way.

  “Where’s your man, Luce?” asked Maxwell with a sarcastic grin.

  “Bugger off, Max,” said Angelina, who slid into Antony’s empty chair. “You really talk too much for your own good.”

  Everyone at the table started laughing, even Maxwell, but I could tell he was mortified. The fact that Angelina, the most sought-after girl at school, had given him a dressing-down was humiliating.

  “Thanks,” I whispered to Angelina.

  “It was a long time coming. The guy’s a weasel,” she said with a smile.

  We both dissolved into giggles. And that was when I decided to try to let go of all my worries about what had just happened with Antony and enjoy myself. At least I was among friends, so it would all be okay.

  So I thought.

  Right as I was about to savor the last bite of risotto with a huge piece of truffle perched atop the creamy Arborio rice, I felt something wet. On my neck.

  “Whoops! Oh my God, so sorry! I’m so clumsy!”

  The gasps of my tablemates mingled with Sofia’s acid voice. I simply stared at my lap, now dripping with the red juice of the Van punch, an annual ball concoction served in silver terrines with sterling ladles. Some had whispered that the boys traditionally spiked it with some Spanish fly to get the girls tipsy, but whatever the mystery ingredients, they were now soaking through my dress.

  “Oh my God!” Tiggy leaped up with her linen monogrammed napkin and began dabbing away at the red river. “You bitch!” snipped Tiggy.

  “It’s okay, Tig, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, right!” said Sofia snidely. “Too bad your prince charming was out of here the second he realized you’re here on scholarship!” she said loudly to the whole table. There was some surprised silence, but then something amazing happened. No one seemed to care.

  “Sofia, back off this instant,” ordered Oliver, standing up. “Get the hell away from her.”

  “I don’t know why you are all friends with her. Don’t you know that she’s not who she says she is? This girl is a fraud!”

  I could tell that people at tables around us were listening. Victoria walked up from the next table over. Sofia stood there, clad in a short, tight sequined dress, teetering in giant spiked heels, looking like this was the moment she had been waiting for.

  “Shut up. You’re just being nasty,” said Oliver.

  “Oh yeah? Well, what about this?” asked Sofia, pulling out a piece of paper from her clutch.

  “What’s that?” asked Tiggy.

  “This is a letter from Gab! magazine confirming that one Lucy Peterson sold them stories about several students at Van Pelt Academy. It’s on the editor-in-chief’s letterhead and confirms that Lucy gave them pictures of Victoria’s bracelet, snapshots from Jazzmattazz, as well as information on Maxwell’s affair with the wife of a bank head.”

  I was sick. The silence around the tables was deafening. The band was on a break, so the only noise was the din from chatter at tables farther away.

  “Is this true, Lucy?” asked Tiggy.

  I looked at her. Then my eyes went around the table. I watched as Oliver, Angelina, and everyone else waited for an answer.

  “I did help Sofia take a picture of Victoria’s bracelet. And I did tell Sofia that about Maxwell.”

  My friends were shocked. I saw them look at one another and their jaws drop.

  “But I never took money for it. And I never worked for Gab! That part is a lie.”

  “Why did you do it?” asked Oliver quietly.

  “I…I was just playing a joke on Victoria. She’d been so mean to me. It was a prank. I know it was wrong and I apologize from the bottom of my heart,” I said, looking Victoria in the eye. Her face showed no response.

  “As for the Maxwell tidbit, I did tell Sofia, but as a friend. I never thought she would put it in the magazine.”

  “Oh right,” said Sofia sarcastically.

  “It’s true! I told you that as a friend!”

  “What about the other stuff? How come the editor says he paid you?” asked Maxwell.

  “I swear on everything in my life that I did not take one red cent for this. I helped Sofia with one prank, that’s it. She is the one who is on the Gab! payroll. Her father works there—they pay for her education, her clothes, everything.”

  “That’s such bollocks!” said Sofia.

  “She reads the files in the admissions office, and she has a spy ring that takes pictures….” I added.

  “No one believes you,” said Sofia, crossing her arms defiantly. The silence around the table seemed to confirm her statement. Desperate, I decided to bluff.

  “I contacted your former school, Sofia. They can confirm everything. That you are just a low-level, low-rent girl who could never make it on your own so you have to take down everyone else.”

  Sofia went off on a rant. “You little liar! You stupid, stupid, foolish girl….”

  And then something funny happened. As she continued her rant, Sofia’s real accent came out. Gone was the Queen’s English—Eliza Doolittle was back! Everyone else noticed it before she did.

  “What ’er ya lookin’ at?” she said when she noticed everyone starting to laugh.

  “Um, nice accent, Eliz
a,” said Maxwell with a sneer.

  Sofia looked stricken. I expected her to freak out, but instead she burst into tears. I couldn’t tell if they were real or crocodile.

  “You all hate me! I never did anything to you!”

  “Are you sure that’s true?” asked Angelina with an arched eyebrow. “Because I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re just a dumb inbred royal!” snapped Sofia, tears abating.

  “And you’re a fraud,” said Angelina evenly.

  “Sofia Glenn?”

  We all turned around and found the dean standing behind us in his white tie and tails, arms crossed.

  “I received a box tonight with several tapes of you conspiring to bug this school, including tips about where your hidden cameras would be this evening.”

  With students from other tables now gathering around us, he reached into the tiered candle and rose centerpiece and plucked out a small black rectangle no bigger than a quarter.

  “The tips have all proven to be correct,” he said. “You have planted recording devices and lied and schemed with a trashy tabloid to denigrate our esteemed institution and students. Security!”

  Three armed guards emerged from the crowd, grabbed Sofia’s hands, and led her out.

  Before they took her through the front doors, she turned and glared at me with dagger eyes. I was too stunned by what had just happened to do anything but watch her go. I looked around at my tablemates. I could tell they didn’t quite know what to make of me. No one spoke, so I decided to take the plunge.

  “I am sorry, everyone. Sincerely. I apologize especially to you, Victoria.”

  Victoria stared at me evenly. This was a make-or-break moment. But then she smiled.

  “I’ll forgive you. It actually was kind of funny seeing the bracelet in there,” she said with a smile.

  “You got caught up with the wrong person,” said Maxwell, much to my astonishment. I couldn’t believe this benevolent sentiment, especially coming from him. “It can happen to anyone.”

  I was afraid to look at Oliver, but when I did he gave me a slight smile.

  “That girl is as conniving as a fox,” quipped Victoria. “But I guess someone outsmarted her.”