Epic Fail

by Claire Lazebnik

  He gave my hand a squeeze that could have been a reprimand or something else entirely. “Deal with it, Saint Elise. You made a promise.”

  “You’re just hoping to see a catfight.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, please. Just because I’m a guy, you think I like catfights.”

  “You mean you don’t?”

  He grinned. I swear: Derek Edwards grinned. “I didn’t say that.”

  The guys we had originally bounced from the Ping-Pong table must have seen us put down our paddles, because they were drifting back toward us. Derek released my hand.

  “What should we do now?” he asked, like it was a given we’d stick together.

  “I don’t know.” I glanced around the rec room. Nothing inspired me. “Let’s go back upstairs and see what’s going on up there.”

  The second we moved away, the boys darted forward and grabbed our paddles.

  “Thanks for letting us play,” I called over my shoulder, and they bobbed their heads in a kind of salute.

  “I should probably find Juliana at some point,” I said as we headed up the stairs. “Except—”

  “What?”

  “I’m not convinced she wants to be found.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve never seen Chase so—” He stopped. At first I thought he just didn’t want to finish what he was saying, but then I realized he was staring up the steps, where a long angular figure was tromping rapidly down toward us. Webster Grant.

  “Hi!” I said, happy to see a friendly face in a house full of strangers.

  “Elise Benton! My long-lost cousin!” He took my hand and pressed it warmly. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt that matched the color of his eyes. “Hey, Derek!” he said. “How’s it going, buddy?”

  Derek’s smile had vanished, leaving his face cold and rigid. He ignored Webster, just brushed past him and continued trudging up the stairs with heavy, deliberate steps.

  “Um, good-bye?” I called out to his retreating back.

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Kind of saying hello to a friend here?”

  “I’ll be upstairs.” He kept going and vanished into the hallway above.

  I stared after him. “A little moody, isn’t he?” I tried to sound lighthearted but I was truly stunned at Derek’s sudden transformation. We’d been having fun together. At least, I thought we’d been.

  Webster patted me on the arm consolingly. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. How’d you end up hanging out with him anyway?”

  “We came in the same car. My sister and Chase wanted to come to this together, and we both tagged along. And then we played Ping-Pong—”

  “Not pool? I always assumed he was a billiards man—I mean, it’s so handy the way he keeps a stick up his—”

  “Hey, hey,” I said, laughing. “That’s Melinda Anton’s wittle baby boy you’re talking about and don’t you forget it.”

  “Oh, are we allowed to forget it? I thought there were laws against that.” He glanced around. “So where were you on your way to, young Elise, and may I escort you there since your companion appears to have abandoned you? His loss, I might add. Which may well turn out to be my gain.”

  “I’d like to find my sister. I’m ready to head home, but she’s my ride. Well, the Baldwins’ limo is literally my ride, but she’s my connection to it.”

  Webster whistled. “A limo? How very West Side of you. What’s it like living the good life?”

  “The ride is smooth, but the company stinks,” I said, and he grinned. I felt slightly guilty. It hadn’t been that bad, had it? I mean, Chase was a nice guy and Derek . . .

  I didn’t know what to think about Derek.

  “In that case,” Webster said, neatly pivoting on his heels so we could head up the stairs together, “how about I take you home? I ain’t got no limo, but I can offer you a ride in one smoking hot Chevy Aveo. It’s small, it’s slow, I bought it used, and if you wanted to find a cheaper car, you’d have to go to India. . . . But it works and it’s all mine.”

  “I don’t know,” I teased. “The limo had carpeting. And snacks!”

  We had reached the top of the stairs. He stopped and looked at me. “Seriously, Elise, I’d be happy to take you home. Honored, even.”

  I thought it would be kind of nice to be alone in a car with Webster Grant and his light blue eyes, especially since it felt like I’d basically been dumped by everyone I’d come with. “I just have to check with my sister. I promised to stay by her side tonight.”

  Webster laughed. The guy had the greatest laugh—it bubbled up from deep inside his chest and instantly made you want to join in. “I hate to tell you this, but you failed at that job.”

  “Hey, she abandoned me.”

  “Well, there you go. You don’t owe her anything.”

  I touched his arm. “You said when we had more time, you’d tell me why you and Derek stopped being friends.” I’d been wanting to bring that up again since Derek had walked away.

  “Oh, right.” He made a face. “Honestly, it’s not much of a story. The short version is that his little sister—” He stopped and started again. “Derek and I used to hang out sometimes, and she—” He laughed sheepishly. “It’s embarrassing to say, but she kind of got a crush on me. I didn’t even realize it. I mean, I was nice to her, the way you are to a friend’s little sister, and I even gave her a couple of rides home from school. Which turned out to be a mistake, because then she said something about how we were ‘going out’ to Derek. He didn’t even ask me what the truth was—just went ballistic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me explain, wouldn’t let Georgia so much as say hi to me anymore.”

  “Sounds way over the top,” I said.

  “He’s just super-protective of her. To be fair, I think Georgia made it worse by getting all Romeo and Juliet about it even though it was nothing like that. You haven’t met her yet, but the girl’s a little . . .” He hesitated. “Oh God, I don’t want to be mean about her. She’s sweet and all. She’s just . . . not all there. Which I guess is why she made up this whole fantasy in the first place.”

  “That’s kind of sad,” I said.

  “No kidding. I couldn’t be mad at her—I just felt sorry for her. But it ruined my friendship with Derek.” He swung up onto the landing. “Come on. Let’s go.” He pointed to a poster on the wall as I followed him. “Look.”

  It was dark so I had to move closer to see it. “Ship of Cool? I saw that movie!”

  “Everyone saw that movie. It was the second biggest hit of 2007. And guess whose studio made it?”

  “Whose?”

  “Jason’s mother’s.” He swept his arm in a circle. “This is the house that Ship of Cool built.”

  As we moved into the dark upstairs hallway, I noticed that the couple Derek and I had stepped over were still making out. No, wait . . . on closer inspection (but not too close), it was a different couple.

  “I have a confession to make,” Webster said, after we had tiptoed our way around them.

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “It’s not easy for me to tell you this, but it’s important that our relationship be built on a foundation of perfect honesty.” He halted and bent down to put his mouth close to my ear. His breath felt warm against my skin and I shivered a little—and hoped he didn’t notice. “When I said the car was all mine, I lied. It’s actually my parents’. It’s our family’s one car, and it was only because my mother has the flu that I managed to score it this evening.” He took a step back. “Think you can forgive me?”

  “I’m not about to criticize anyone’s car situation. Have you seen the Benton-mobile?”

  “No, why?”

  “Three words.” I counted them off on my fingers. “Green. Old. Minivan.”

  Webster gave a mock shudder. “Good God, woman,” he said. “Lower your voice. You could get thrown out of a party lik
e this for less than that.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know what?” he said, taking my arm. “You and I had better stick together.”

  I smiled right into those blue eyes and said, “It’s us against them.”

  We made our way through the dance room. Crazy swaying girl was still there, but I successfully dodged her this time, and we made it back safely to the living room, which was even hotter and more crowded than before.

  “Let’s grab something to drink for the road,” Webster said, raising his voice so I could hear him over the noise. We moved toward the bar. “What do you feel like?”

  “Diet Coke,” I shouted back.

  “Ah, the hard stuff!” We made it to the bar, and Webster reached for a bottle of Diet Coke.

  That’s when things got weird.

  Over Webster’s shoulder, I could see a bunch of guys pushing through the crowd, heading toward us. They were all big, with the broad shoulders and overdeveloped biceps that basically functioned as a Hello, I’m a Jock name tag.

  Derek was one of them. In fact, he was leading the way, his face grim, his shoulders hunched forward, and his arms curving down, the way guys do when they want to make you think that their muscles are almost too big. He walked right by me like I wasn’t there and grabbed the bottle out of Webster’s hand. “Time to go, Grant.”

  “Excuse me?” The polite smile on Webster’s face made me think maybe he really hadn’t heard. Other people must have, though: there was a perceptible lowering of voices all around us.

  Derek put the Diet Coke back on the bar and gestured to another guy to come forward. This guy had overgrown wavy red hair and the widest shoulders I’d ever seen. Too bad he didn’t have a neck—just a big head that sprung directly from the middle of those enormous shoulders. He said in a growl, “I don’t remember inviting you to my house. Leave. Now.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, but Webster gave a resigned shrug and just said, “A couple of people told me it was an open party. Sorry. I was on my way out, anyway.” He turned to me. “Let’s go.”

  “This is nuts,” I said.

  He gave a short laugh. “Eh, I’ve been thrown out of better places than this.”

  I looked at Derek. “What’s going on?” He didn’t bother to meet my eyes, just kept glaring at Webster. “Why are you guys acting like such jerks?” I asked.

  Jason heard that. “Who are you? You come with Grant?”

  “No, but I’m leaving with him,” I said hotly. “The hospitality here sucks.”

  Derek stepped forward. “She came with me, actually. She’s Juliana’s sister.”

  “Juliana?” Jason repeated blankly.

  “The new girl,” Derek explained, and Jason nodded, recognition dawning. “Oh, her.”

  “Don’t you think this is a little much?” I asked Derek, who didn’t reply.

  “It’s okay, Elise. No big deal. Let’s just go.” Webster crooked his elbow toward me, and I threaded my arm through his.

  “You can’t go,” Derek said, addressing me directly for the first time. “Your sister is expecting you to come home with us.”

  “Tell her I made other plans,” I hissed. But then I heard my name being called.

  Juliana was rushing over, Chase right behind. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Give me a second,” I said to Webster, releasing his arm.

  “Don’t know if I have one,” he said, with a wary look at the hostile faces surrounding us.

  “Yeah, okay. Go ahead and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “I’ll wear a carnation in my lapel so you’ll recognize me.” Amazing that he could still crack a joke under these circumstances.

  He sauntered calmly across the floor, apparently indifferent to the people whispering all around him. Once he had closed the front door behind him, Jason’s gang melted into the crowd, their community service completed for the night.

  I dragged Juliana over to a quiet corner of the room.

  “What was that all about?” she asked. “Who was that?”

  “This guy I’m friends with—he just got thrown out of the party. Because of Derek.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “Nothing. Webster didn’t do anything.”

  She tossed her hands up in the air. “I don’t understand!”

  “I don’t either. All I know is that Derek has it in for Webster, and of course everyone does whatever Melinda Anton’s son says, so—” I shrugged irritably. “It’s all weird and annoying, and I’m getting a ride home from Webster. You want to come with us?”

  “What about Chase?”

  “Just tell him you got another ride.”

  She looked down at the floor. “I don’t want to.” No surprise there.

  “Fine. I’ll see you later.” I turned to go.

  “You’ll go straight home, right? Mom and Dad will freak if I get home and you’re not with me.”

  “I’ll text you once I know what I’m doing.”

  I headed toward the front door, confused and a little overwhelmed. The evening had started off badly, then had gotten better, then had turned strange . . . and now I was leaving with a guy I hadn’t arrived with. Not my usual m.o. But as far as car companions went, I was trading up. Better to ride in a lousy little car with someone fun than in a limo with a jerk.

  I let the door swing closed behind me and looked around. Webster wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  That was weird: I thought he said he’d wait for me. I walked down to the open gargantuan metal gate and looked up and down the street. There were no sidewalks in this neighborhood, just big, gated houses and the dark street that divided them.

  To my relief, a tall figure moved out of the shadows and came toward me. I went to meet him, but my greeting died on my lips as he emerged into the street lamp’s glow. It wasn’t Webster at all.

  It was Derek Edwards.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Where’s Webster?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean? He’s supposed to take me home.”

  He shook his head. “He drove off a minute ago.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No,” he said, so calmly I believed him.

  “Did you tell him to leave without me?”

  “More or less.”

  “Why?”

  Derek was silent a moment. Then he said, “Webster’s not a good person. You don’t want to hang out with him.”

  “He’s not the one knocking into people and throwing them out of parties!”

  “Why are you in such a hurry to be on his side?” Derek kicked at a piece of metal lying on the side of the road and, without looking up, said, “Because he’s funny? Because he says bad things about me?”

  “He doesn’t say anything bad about anyone!” I hated how shrill my voice was getting, but I couldn’t stop it. I felt totally confused about what was going on, and I hate feeling confused. “That’s where you’re wrong. He’s only ever been nice about you. He likes you. He understands that you—” I stopped.

  “What does he understand?” he asked sharply.

  “That things are weird for you,” I said. “That having famous parents makes you a little . . . you know . . . paranoid.” I tried to say it gently but realized too late that a word like paranoid comes out sounding pretty harsh whether you want it to or not.

  “That’s what Webster says about me?”

  “Yeah, well, it’s kind of true, isn’t it?” I said, speaking rapidly to cover my discomfort. “I mean, the first time I met you I didn’t even know who your parents were, but everyone seemed to assume I did. And then every time anyone even mentions your parents, you act like they’re invading your privacy or being rude or something. It’s impossible to be normal around you.”

  He took a step back. “Is that your opinion or Webster Grant’s?”

  “It’s the truth,” I said. “Ask anyone—only no one will tell you because they all want to be friends with you.”
<
br />   “What makes you the noble exception? No interest in being friends?”

  Was he angry? His voice was quiet but heavy with sarcasm and something else—disappointment, maybe?

  “I am interested in being friends,” I said. “But not because of who your parents are. And not as much as I was before I saw you acting like a jerk to a guy who hadn’t done you any harm.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “Yes, I do—he told me you guys used to be friends, and then there was this thing with your little sister . . .”

  He shook his head. “He didn’t tell you everything.”

  “Look,” I said, trying to be conciliatory. “I get that you feel protective of your little sister. Layla’s always getting in trouble and I try—”

  He cut me off. “My sister isn’t like yours,” he said coldly. “She’s a good kid.”

  I drew my head back. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “Nothing. Just don’t assume my sister is anything like yours.”

  I dug my nails into my palms, furious at how condescending and unpleasant he sounded. But I tried to stay calm. “Fine,” I said. “Whatever. Let’s say you’re justified in disliking Webster—and that’s a pretty big leap, but let’s just say it for the moment. Does that also give you the right to kick him out of parties and keep me from getting a ride with him?”

  “I did you a favor.”

  “Oh, please,” I said. “I can make my own choices.”

  “Webster Grant knows how to get people to like him—”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s pleasant and outgoing and friendly. What a jerk. Why can’t everyone be rude and standoffish? That’s so much better. So much classier.”

  Derek took in a quick breath and then let it out in an angry puff. “Forget it,” he said. “You’re determined to think I’m a jerk, no matter what I say. And frankly, I’m not that high on you either right now. I thought you’d be a better judge of character.” He raised his hands and let them drop. “Let’s just go find Chase and your sister and get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m not going with you guys,” I said. “Not now.”