“Gertie,” Rachel said. “I love you? But honestly? If you don’t do something about Danny Bryan, on this trip, right here in Washington, D.C., I will seriously stop being your friend.”
“Yeah right,” Gertie said.
“I’m so fucking serious right now,” Rachel said, and she looked it. “I have been hearing about Danny Fucking Bryan for seven fucking years. And I have supported you and encouraged you and been very, very patient, and so has Sivan. But it stops now. I will block you on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I will stop taking your phone calls and texts. I will delete any email you send me. I will seriously freeze you out if you don’t actually, for once in your life, get up off the sidelines and get in the fucking game!”
Gertie and Sivan stared at her as if she’d grown another head.
“You have been dicking around at life for too long,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry. This is tough love.”
“Maybe you’re just being kind of rude,” Sivan suggested.
“No, Sivan,” Rachel said. “I am being real. This is real life. We are grown women. In some countries we’d be married with babies by now.”
“Yeah, terrible countries,” Sivan said. “Like, places where women are treated like objects to be bought and sold.”
“This is no time for politics, Sivan!” Rachel said. “This is about love.”
“I don’t see women’s issues as political, per se,” Sivan said. “I’m talking about human rights. And to be honest, my statement was a little First World-centric. Sometimes I need to check my privilege.”
“Enough!” Gertie said. “This is dumb. Rachel, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you and I both know you’re never going to stop being my friend, and also, I just really don’t want to try to talk to Danny—”
In that moment, the three of them realized the entire class was staring at them. Mr. Kenner and Ms. Deats were watching in silent amusement, their arms crossed, tapping their feet.
“Are you quite done, girls?” Ms. Deats asked.
“This is seriously the most boring fight I’ve ever listened to,” Brooklynn said. “Like I didn’t know it was possible to be so uninteresting.”
“It’s because it’s about that one,” Kaylee said, pointing at Gertie. “That one never does anything cool.”
“That’s Gertie,” Peighton said, not in a mean way.
“Whatever,” Kaylee said. “I can never remember her name.”
“Let’s move, people,” Mr. Kenner said. “There’s a lot of museum for us to hit before we’re done!”
The class moved along, and Sivan and Rachel started to follow. But Gertie stood still.
“It’s okay, Gertie,” Sivan said. “It’s not like they know who Danny Bryan is or anything.”
“That’s not it,” Gertie said slowly. “That’s not it at all. Did you hear what she said?”
“Who, Kaylee?” Rachel said. “She’s so dumb, Gertles. Don’t worry about her.”
“She can’t even remember my name,” Gertie said. “We’ve gone to school together since she moved here in fourth grade, and she can’t even remember my name. That’s how unmemorable I am.”
“Gertie, you need to keep in mind that she’s really, really stupid,” Rachel said. “And before you say anything, Sivan, I don’t mean, like, challenged or disabled. That’s something else entirely, and I would never make fun of that. I mean she’s just stupid. She is thoughtless and selfish and stupid.”
“She’s right, though,” Gertie said, and she began to walk slowly in the same direction as the other students. It was almost as if she were sleepwalking. Sivan and Rachel exchanged worried looks.
“What do you mean?” Sivan asked.
“I never do anything worth remembering,” Gertie said as they passed a cart selling Dippin’ Dots, the “Ice Cream of the Future.”
“Yes you do,” Rachel said soothingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, Gertie. I shouldn’t have done the tough love thing.”
“You didn’t make me feel bad,” Gertie said. “Kaylee did. But in a good way.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sivan said.
“No, it does,” Gertie said. “Because I’m going to do it. We’re gonna sneak out tonight and we’re gonna find Danny Bryan and I’m gonna tell him how I feel about him, and I don’t even care if he likes me back or not.”
Sivan and Rachel were silent for a moment.
“Cool,” Sivan said finally. “Cool. Let’s do it.”
“This is going to be so awesome!” Rachel shrieked, attracting the stares of nearby patrons. She lowered her voice. “You won’t regret this, Gertie, I promise!”
“I don’t even care if I regret it,” Gertie said. “I’m done giving a fuck about it. I give zero fucks. Like, officially. None. No fucks.”
With a resolute expression, Gertie marched forward, passing underneath a banner that read TOUCH THE SKY. The other girls had to hurry to keep up.
That night at dinner, they went to a chain bar and grill called Paddy O’Flattery’s that was close to the hotel, although not as close as OMG Thursdays. In fact, the original plan had been to eat at OMG Thursdays for every dinner on the trip, but the cuntriad’s sickness had made that seem “imprudent,” as Mr. Kenner put it.
Still high from the thrill of the Air and Space Museum, Mr. Kenner said he’d like to sit with a group of students at dinner instead of off with Ms. Deats at a teacher table for two. To everyone’s surprise, Brock Chuddford’s hand shot up.
“You can sit with me and my boys, Mr. Kenner,” he said. “And Bump.”
“Excuse me?” Carter Bump asked, clearly confused.
“You’re gonna sit with me and Mr. Kenner and these bros, little dude,” Brock said.
Carter Bump and Mr. Kenner looked at each other with perhaps an equal amount of wonder and walked over to Brock’s table. Brock gave his buddies a hard look.
“Make room for the other dudes!” he said. “Sorry, Mr. Kenner, no offense.”
“None taken, Brock,” Mr. Kenner said, settling down into a chair. Carter Bump sat next to his teacher, beside Brock.
“Yo,” Brock said. “Could a person fly?”
“Like in an airplane?” Mr. Kenner said.
“No, no, I mean like if I made wings to wear, like good wings with like modern materials, could I fly?” His lacrosse buddies tittered until he gave them a stern glare. Then they quieted down immediately.
“That’s an interesting question, Brock,” Mr. Kenner said. “I’m not sure about wings. But when I was a kid, we all thought we’d have jetpacks in the future.”
“Let’s say I had a jetpack,” Brock said. “How high could I fly before I needed a spacesuit?”
“Well, you’d need an oxygen tank before then,” Carter said. “Because the air gets thinner as you go higher.”
“This kid knows everything,” Brock said admiringly. “What if I had to piss while I was high up in the atmosphere?” His buddies giggled again, and again he shot them a harsh look.
“Maybe say ‘urinate’ instead of ‘piss,’ Brock,” Carter Bump murmured, seeing the look on Mr. Kenner’s face.
“Good call, dude,” Brock said. “Sorry, Mr. Kenner. Okay. Let’s say I had to urinate. Would I just, like, go? And would it just land on people down below?” He wrinkled his nose. “‘Cause that sounds nasty.”
“Who wants appetizers?” Carter asked. “I love fried potato skins!”
If everyone else hadn’t known such a thing were socially impossible, it might’ve appeared that Carter Bump and Brock Chuddford were beginning to form an actual friendship. Rachel noticed, and smiled to herself.
“Please don’t let Ms. Deats sit with us,” Sivan whispered to Gertie and Rachel. She immediately felt guilty about it. She loved Ms. Deats, and sometimes even thought of her more as her mom’s friend than as her teacher, but there was no way they could have Ms. Deats at the table if they were going to plan their great escape.
“Just don’t make eye conta
ct,” Rachel said. “Let’s act like we’re having a really serious conversation.” She put a stern expression on her face, which just made Sivan snort and Gertie crack up.
“Not helping!” Rachel said. “Not helping at all.”
“Oh, look,” Gertie said, sounding relieved. “She’s sitting with Miriam and Allison and Olivia, over there.”
“God, what a boring table,” Rachel said. “We’re way cooler.”
“At least she’s not with the cuntriad,” Gertie said darkly. Peighton, Brooklynn, and Kaylee were sequestered in a booth across the restaurant, talking loudly and laughing and generally making a big show of not caring about anybody else in the group. Which of course just proved that they cared very much what everybody else in the group thought.
After their harried-looking waitress took their order and rushed on to the next table, Rachel flipped over one of the paper place mats and took out a pen. She drew a map of the hotel, the parking lot, the Rite Aid, and OMG Thursdays.
“This time we’re not going out the front door,” Rachel said. “We’re going out the rear entrance to the first floor.” She circled it on her crude map. “It’s accessible from the back parking lot, but only if you have your room key. That’s what we’re using for our exit and our re-entry, so make sure you have your room keys on you.”
“If Ms. Deats gives them back to us,” Sivan said.
“She will,” Rachel said confidently. “She wants to give them back to us. She wants to trust us. We just need to show her she can.”
“And then immediately betray that trust,” Sivan said.
“Right,” Rachel said. “You’ve got it.”
“Why didn’t we just use the back entrance last night?” Gertie asked.
“Because I didn’t know it existed,” Rachel said. “Today, I studied the fire escape plan posted next to the elevator and I saw it.”
“Well, that would’ve been a lot of help in preventing us from getting our first strike,” Gertie said.
“True,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry about that. It was an obvious lapse in judgment. So I’m making up for it now with this foolproof plan.”
“What happens after we leave out the back?” Sivan asked.
“Next, we leave the area as quickly as possible,” Rachel said.
“But where do we go?” Gertie asked.
Rachel smiled and withdrew a map from her back pocket. She unfolded it, and there was the city spread out before them.
“Wow,” Gertie said. “Where’d you get that?”
“I took it from the front desk today,” Rachel said. “They’ve just got them out there for anybody. Another thing I should’ve thought of last night. For someone who is probably kind of psychic, I really dropped the ball on a few things yesterday.”
She circled a spot on the map. “Here’s our hotel,” she said. She drew a line to a neighborhood that she marked with a star. She underlined the neighborhood’s name once, twice, three times.
“Georgetown,” Gertie said. “What’s there?”
“Bars,” Rachel said. “And boys.”
“But where’s the Henry Hotel?” Gertie asked.
“I don’t know,” Rachel admitted. “I’d just look it up if we had our phones. But instead of that, I figure we can just ask in Georgetown. It’s a mile away from here.”
“So to be clear,” Sivan said. “We’re going to Georgetown just so you can hit on college boys in a college bar?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “I feel I’ve earned that.”
“Okay,” Gertie said. “But then we’ll find out where the Henry is, and then we’ll go right there, right?”
“Definitely,” Rachel said.
“What about me?” Sivan asked.
“What do you mean, what about you?” Rachel said. “You’ll be with us the whole time. We’re a trio.”
“Well, I’d like to do something for me, too,” Sivan said. “Because we’re going to a bar so Rachel can meet boys, and we’re going to the Henry Hotel so Gertie can tell Danny Bryan she loves him at the pool party. But what about me?”
“What would you like to do?” Rachel said. “Anything. Anything in the whole city.”
“We’ll do whatever you want,” Gertie said.
Sivan thought for a long moment. She’d always visited D.C. to see the museums and historical landmarks. She loved the city for that reason, for all its history and potential. She’d never thought of it as a place to hang out and be social and have adventures that didn’t involve maybe being a congressional page or intern one day.
“I’ll let you know,” she said finally. “Nothing really comes to mind. But I’ll think of something.”
“Cool,” Rachel said. “So we’ll go to the bar, and then we’ll go to the hotel, and somewhere along the way we’ll do what Sivan wants to do, and then we’ll sneak back in before anybody gets up in the morning, and we’ll get in our beds and nobody will know we just had the best night of our entire lives. I mean, we can tell them once we’ve safely graduated, and then they’ll all be super-jealous.”
The waitress set down a platter of samosas, mozzarella sticks, and potstickers.
“Traditional Irish food,” Sivan said.
“Keep eating those fried foods, girls,” a voice said sweetly. Startled, they looked up and saw Brooklynn standing right there, flanked by Kaylee and Peighton.
“Really,” she said. “Because your hips need more fat on them.”
“Slut shaming, homophobia, and now body shaming,” Sivan said. “Could you be more generic? At least get original with your bullshit. You’re so predictable.”
Gertie and Rachel stared at Sivan, surprised. So did Peighton, Kaylee and Brooklynn.
“Get out of here,” Sivan said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’re boring me.”
“Whatever, loser,” Brooklynn said, rolling her eyes. She and Kaylee and Brooklynn retreated to their own table.
“Sivan,” Rachel said excitedly. “What’s gotten into you?”
“That was pretty cool,” Gertie said.
“I’m just sick of it,” Sivan said with a shrug. “I hate how small they make me feel sometimes. They’re not even smart enough to come up with good insults. All that shit about me being a boy, just because I don’t dress like them. Anything different than them terrifies them, so they make fun of it. I’m sick of it.”
“They’re disgusting,” Rachel said. “But we’re awesome. And we’re going to have the most amazing time tonight. I guarantee it.”
Back in the hotel lobby, as all the students filed in from the bus, Alicia Deats felt a hand tap her on the back. It was Sivan Finkelstein.
“What’s up, Sivan?” Alicia asked. She had a lot of fondness for this kid. If any of her students were going to really do amazing things in the world, well, Sivan was the one. Babs was raising a great young woman.
“Um,” Sivan said. “Well, we were wondering if it would be okay if we got our room keys back.”
“Absolutely not,” came Brian Kenner’s voice. He strode up behind Alicia, folded his arms, and shook his head no.
Alicia felt a flash of irritation. It was maybe enhanced by the fact that Brian hadn’t chosen to sit with her at dinner. Maybe.
“Now, hold on, Mr. Kenner,” she said. “Sivan was speaking to me.”
“She was speaking to us,” Brian said. “She may have approached you, but she was speaking to both of us, through you.”
“Sivan,” Alicia said. “Were you speaking to me or to both of us?”
“Uh,” Sivan said, looking confused. “Um, I mean, well, you’re the one with our room keys, so I asked you.”
“See,” Alicia said. “She was speaking to me.”
“Well, I am sure you agree that these girls shouldn’t get their room keys back,” Brian said.
“Actually, I think there’s a compromise to be had here, Mr. Kenner,” Alicia said. “The girls behaved exceptionally well today and I think they’ve learned their lesson. So my inclination is to say t
hat yes, Sivan, you may have the keys back.”
“What’s the compromise?” Brian asked, frustrated. “That’s no compromise.”
“The compromise is that their door still gets taped,” Alicia said. “One big X marks the spot.”
Rachel and Gertie had been inching ever closer to Sivan, their emissary, and when they overheard this, they both gasped. Alicia and Brian stared at them.
“Will the taping really be necessary?” Rachel asked quickly.
“We’re not going to sneak out,” Gertie said.
“And what if there’s an emergency, like a fire or something?” Rachel said. “I mean, the tape could delay us from exiting the room, and we could burn up and, you know, die.”
“I doubt very much that masking tape will keep you from exiting your room in case of a fire,” Brian said, amused.
“Here are your room keys,” Alicia said, fishing them out of her bag and handing them to a deflated-looking Sivan. “I’ll be by at lights-out to tape your door. That’s at ten o’clock.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said, but she didn’t sound thankful.
“We appreciate it, Ms. Deats,” Sivan said.
“Yes,” said Gertie with a little sigh. “We do.”
The girls took the keys and walked away.
“I think that was good teamwork on our part,” Alicia said, smiling up at Brian. But as seemed to happen with him sometimes, it was suddenly all business.
“You take the first shift, until two a.m.,” he said abruptly. “I’ll take the next shift. Then breakfast, then the White House, then home. Finally. Good?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said.
“Good,” he said, and walked off.
Alicia’s shoulders slumped. It was the second and last night of the trip, and every time she felt she’d made progress with Brian, he went back to being his distant self. There was no real bonding, no real friendship. And it wasn’t like he’d ever want to hang out with her outside of work after this. So, basically, the most she could hope for was a civil professional relationship that was perhaps slightly less awkward than it had been following the puke incident.
Well, all right. She’d just adjust her expectations then. Lower them.
DC Trip Page 11
