Great

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” Jeff said reluctantly. “I’ve got a tee time at seven tomorrow morning.” He looked at me. “Is it cool if I leave my car parked overnight at your house? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” I said. He kissed me goodbye, and the three of them left.

  “You okay, Jacinta?” I asked. She looked paler than pale, so white she matched everything else at the party.

  “I think I’ll just sit down, love,” she said shakily, before lowering herself into a chair at our table. Around us, girls had begun kicking up their heels and dancing their own versions of the Charleston and other old-timey dances they’d probably only seen in movies or something. More and more people jumped into the pool, some in their underwear, some wearing nothing at all.

  We chatted about how she’d gotten the decorations done so quickly (“I had to beg the florist, love—beg!”), who was wearing the best white dress, who had the best white shoes, and whether it would’ve been feasible for Jacinta to serve only white foods at her white party. (“Nah,” I said. “It would’ve just been, like, mashed potatoes and white bread. None of these girls eat carbs anyway.”) I switched from alcohol to club soda, and we passed a pleasant few hours watching the wealthiest kids on the East Coast do what any kids do at a party: drink, brag, fight, cry, and make out. By the time I looked at my phone to check the time, it was midnight.

  The party started to peter out, and Jacinta busied herself flitting around and saying goodbye to folks who were making moves to go. I watched all the air kissing and the hugging and heard all the declarations of affection (she called people “love” about fifty times) and the invitations to go out on soand-so’s boat, and wondered if any of it was actually real. If Jacinta weren’t writing about these people and inviting them to her lavish parties, would they give a crap about her? I didn’t think so. And yet, she seemed to genuinely care about each and every one of them, and to legitimately hope that they’d had a fantastic time.

  Then the catering staff began breaking down their stations, and the rental folks arrived to collect the tables and chairs, and the post-party cleaning crew fanned out over the property to pick up everything else—soggy candles, cigarette butts, even the rose petals. The evening was cool, and Jacinta went inside for a few minutes, emerging with hot tea and a couple of blankets. We sat on the back deck, watching a small army of people erase every trace of Jacinta Trimalchio’s latest grand bash.

  “I’m afraid it wasn’t fun for her,” Jacinta said a little mournfully.

  “Of course it was,” I said lamely.

  “How do you know?”

  “Well. . . she looked happy when I came into the red room.”

  “But you saw her outside before she left. She was so angry.”

  “She was happy when she was just with you.”

  This pleased Jacinta greatly, and she smiled. “She was, wasn’t she? When it was just the two of us—oh, and of course, when you were there, too—I think she had a very nice time.”

  “That’s the impression I got,” I said. “And the Teddy and Misti thing just threw her off.” I lowered my voice when I said Misti’s name, since the girl was in the backyard yelling at poor Giovanni about something.

  “Which one is Misti?” Jacinta asked curiously.

  “The one Teddy was talking to when Delilah yelled at him. She was our waitress at Baxley’s the night Delilah and Teddy and Jeff and I took a helicopter from the city.” I hesitated and then plunged on. “Can you keep a secret? Like, even from Delilah?”

  “Absolutely, love,” Jacinta assured me. “I’m a top-notch secret-keeper.”

  In a whisper, I told her about the incident by the Dumpster at Baxley’s. Her eyes widened with something that looked like a mixture of shock and delight.

  “I knew he was wrong for her!” Jacinta exclaimed. “I knew he was cheating! She has to know it, too. She has to sense it. Part of why she hates him so much. He’s really awful.”

  “Well, don’t tell Delilah,” I said. “Teddy would probably have Brock and Reilly slash my car tires or something.”

  “I won’t say a word,” she whispered. “Not a single word. You know he asked us if we wanted to have a threesome? Just out in the open, tonight, right in front of people.”

  “Oh, ew,” I said.

  “Delilah really can’t stand him,” Jacinta continued, sounding like an authority on the subject. “You can’t imagine the stupid things he’s done to embarrass her over the years. She’s always been such a wonderful person, even when she was little. He’s never really understood what he has.”

  “I believe it,” I said.

  We sat outside until the very last person had left the property.

  “I’ll see you again soon, won’t I?” Jacinta asked when I stood up to go. She sounded a little worried.

  “Of course you will,” I said, squeezing her shoulder. “We’re friends.”

  “We are,” Jacinta said. “We really are.”

  I went home then, across the soft cool grass, and curled up in my warm bed. I don’t know when Jacinta went to sleep, or if she did. Jeff texted when he got home, Hey—sorry I made you mad earlier. Didn’t mean to be an asshole. Too many drinks. I texted back, It’s okay, but the truth was it wasn’t okay, and both he and I knew it.

  I woke with a start at six the next morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. When I went into the kitchen to make tea, I looked through the window and saw Jacinta sitting in the same spot, wrapped in the same blanket, typing on her laptop. The green light glowed, a tiny spot of brightness in the early-morning dim.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  CHAPTER TEN

  There were no more daytime or nighttime parties at Jacinta Trimalchio’s house that summer. For a brief flicker of a moment, her evening soirees were the talk of the town, and she was the queen of the teen social world. Then, just as swiftly as she’d grabbed the crown, she gave it up. I saw her, but only through the kitchen window. She was often on the back deck with Delilah, always under her blue parasol, while Delilah baked to a perfect golden crisp. Other times they played badminton or croquet or floated around the river pool on a raft built for two. Sometimes I could tell that they were holding hands. They didn’t invite me to join them.

  I also saw less of Jeff over the next couple weeks. Partly, it was because summer golf league had kicked into high gear and he was super-busy. The summer golf league was something that kept the boys from the city prep schools occupied during their time in the Hamptons, something that kept their game sharp and their bodies active—or at least, that was Jeff’s explanation. But a pastime had changed with us. I figured I could spend the extra alone time getting back into my SAT book.

  The one time my mother was around during those two weeks, she expressed concern that I was hanging out with neither Jeff Byron nor Delilah Fairweather nor “the famous girl next door,” but I told her we were all just busy doing our own things. And I guess that was true.

  Then one day, while I was sitting on the back deck reading this old novel, Save Me the Waltz, I saw a white-blond head pop up.

  “Naomi!” Jacinta cried happily. She fairly bounced up the stairs to the deck, immediately wrapping me in one of her tight hugs. I hugged her back and then went and got us both some of the lemonade I’d made that morning.

  “I came to invite you to dinner at Delilah’s house tomorrow night,” Jacinta said breathlessly. “She’s having you, me, Jeff, and Teddy.”

  “Isn’t that going to be a little awkward?” I said.

  Jacinta shook her head vigorously. “Not at all,” she said. “She’s only inviting him because she can’t not invite him if she’s inviting Jeff, and she wants to invite Jeff because she wants to invite you, and she can’t not invite Jeff if she’s inviting you.”

  I tried to follow her social calculus, but all I could come up with was, “Okay.”


  “Can you keep a secret?” Jacinta asked with a tantalizing grin. “You know I can. I haven’t breathed a word of what you told me about that waitress, love. Not a word.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Tell me what’s up.”

  “She’s going to break up with him tomorrow night.” Jacinta burst forth as if it were the greatest news ever told. “Not at the dinner, of course—afterward, after we’ve all left. She’s going to end it with him for real.”

  “Woooow,” I said, absorbing the information. “She’s finally dumping him? After, what, like a zillion years?”

  “She’s realized she deserves to be treated better,” Jacinta said. “She’s realized she deserves everything she’s ever dreamed of. Besides, she’s going to break so huge at Fashion Week this year that she won’t need him, or her family’s money, or anything. She’ll be booked for months, and the months will turn into years, and she’ll make so much money as a supermodel.”

  “As a supermodel,” I repeated dubiously.

  “She’s going to finish out her senior year at Trumbo, and then we’re going to rent an apartment together in Brooklyn.”

  “Together? In Brooklyn?” I tried to picture Delilah Fairweather living in, or even going to, Brooklyn. It was an image I couldn’t summon no matter how hard I tried.

  Jacinta was still talking. “. . . and we’ll have a garden in the backyard to grow some of our food, and of course, if she wants to go to college, she can go to NYU or Columbia, and I’ll keep up with my blog and I’ll be much closer to the designers, being in New York instead of Florida.”

  “Florida?” I was confused. “Why would you be in Florida?”

  Jacinta looked flustered. “Oh—um—well, you know, Miami is one of the fashion capitals of the world. I was thinking of spending some time down there to, you know, enjoy the weather.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So, Brooklyn, then. With Delilah. In an apartment. Together.”

  “Yes,” she said confidently. “We’ve figured it all out.”

  “And until then, you’ll. . . what, live in the city?”

  Her bright smile dimmed a bit. “That part I’m not quite sure about. Delilah’s going to see if I can stay in one of their spare rooms for a while.”

  “And do her parents. . . know about you two?”

  “They know we’re friends. That’s all they need to know. And they’ll come around eventually, once they do know.”

  “Right,” I said, even though she was so obviously, utterly, completely wrong. “I noticed you haven’t had any parties lately. Is that because of Delilah?”

  “Sort of. I just don’t want too many people asking questions. It’s very important to her that it stays as private as possible. It’s different for her than it is for me. I don’t have any—my parents couldn’t care less. They’re fine with whatever I do. Very European attitude. But her parents are more—opinionated. Conservative.”

  “Of course,” I said. I had a very strong feeling that Senator and Mrs. Fairweather would prefer to be swallowed whole by a monster than to have their picture-perfect, all-American image besmirched by a lesbian daughter. But I wasn’t about to say so to Jacinta.

  “I’ve even let my housekeeper go. I just want to have as much time with Delilah as I can before the summer is over.”

  “So who cleans the house?”

  She laughed. “Um. . . no one, really. But there are only two of us ever there, so it hasn’t gotten too messy just yet.”

  Her phone buzzed. She looked at it, and her face lit up. “Delilah will be over soon,” she announced, as if I wouldn’t know who was texting her. “I’d better get back. But you’ll come tomorrow night? To Delilah’s house, at seven?”

  “Of course,” I said. “It’ll be good to see Jeff, too. I haven’t seen him as much since the summer golf league started. He’s busy practically every day.”

  “Then we’ll all have a wonderful time,” Jacinta said. She kissed me on the top of my head before bounding across the lawn, back to her castle.

  Once Jacinta was safely out of earshot, I actually dialed Skags. She picked up.

  “Hello, trust-fund baby,” she said, yawning. “Thanks for remembering I exist.”

  I felt bad, but I didn’t know what to say. So I pretended I hadn’t heard the last part. “You sound like you just got out of bed.”

  “I’m still in bed. I was out all night with Jenny Carpenter.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Driving along the lake.”

  “What?!”

  “You heard me. Driving along the lake. What’s weird about driving along the lake?”

  “With Jenny Carpenter? Only, like, eighteen thousand things.”

  “Well, she’s actually very smart and interesting,” Skags said primly. “There’s a lot going on underneath the surface there.”

  “Skags,” I said. “She’s a cheerleader.”

  “That’s just because she’s really interested in dance. Experimental dance, actually. Have you ever heard of this group Pilobolus? They’re a modern dance troupe out of the Northeast somewhere, maybe Yale or something, and they do the most amazing stuff. We watched all these YouTube videos about them at Jenny’s house the other day.”

  “At Jenny’s house?” My world was spinning. “Jesus Christ, is everyone a lesbian now?”

  “Yes, Naomi,” Skags said. “Everyone is a lesbian now. Except for you, the lone straight person carrying the banner of heterosexuality forward for the sake of the future of the human race. You’re like a saint. A really boring, heteronormative saint. Who goes to fancy parties and never calls me.” Again, I decided to ignore the jab. She was completely right, after all. And apparently, while I’d been ignoring her, Jenny Carpenter had been doing the exact opposite.

  “You are not gonna believe what happened here the other night,” I said.

  “Does it involve that one girl queering off with the other girl?”

  “Well—yeah. How did you know that?”

  “Duh. Anyone could see that was going to happen.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, totally. Now give me all the details.”

  I explained as much as I could while Skags listened. By the time I was done, she’d reached a conclusion.

  “Oh, they’re not really gay,” she said.

  “Since when are you the authority on gay?” I asked, even though Skags pretty much was the authority on gayness, at least at our school.

  “No offense, Naomi, but you don’t know shit about women.”

  “I am a woman,” I said defensively.

  “The point is that I understand chicks better than you do. And what Delilah and Jacinta have is not a real relationship. They are mutually obsessed. Well, Jacinta is obsessed with Delilah, and Delilah is also obsessed with Delilah, so it all works out for them.”

  “I’m pretty sure they have sex,” I said.

  “Okay, can I get real with you for a second? If they do have sex—and I really doubt they do, given Republican Barbie’s natural inclination toward straight white douches like her dad—it is all Jacinta doing stuff to Delilah.”

  “Eww,” I said. “TMI.”

  “How is it TMI?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want to picture it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I offended your delicate WASP sensibilities, but that’s my take on it. Jacinta wants to be Delilah, and Delilah wants to be worshipped. I gotta go—Jenny and I have a tennis date.”

  “Have you guys even, like, kissed yet?” I asked, even though I didn’t usually like to know the details of Skags’s encounters (I still kind of thought of her as a little kid, even though we were obviously all grown up).

  “I’m not going to go into that with you, Naomi,” Skags said airily. “It’s not like you’ve been particularly interested in what’s going on with me this summer. I haven’t even told you about my plans for the all-school LGBTQ BBQ in September, or the fact that I’ve basically locked down an internship with the mayor’s office this
fall.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said sincerely.

  “It is,” Skags said. “And I’m not going to share any more information with you.” I could tell she really was a little hurt, but I knew she’d forgive me.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Feel free to continue not sharing the fact that you’ve turned Jenny Carpenter into a total lesbian.”

  “Jenny Carpenter was already a total lesbian,” Skags said fondly. “I just helped her to see it.”

  We got off the phone, and I marveled at my friend’s powers of persuasion. I didn’t see Skags as sexy at all—she was a girl who looked and dressed like a boy, and besides, she was my funny best friend. But apparently, she held some kind of fascination for a certain kind of young lady. And now I knew Jenny Carpenter, of all people, was that kind of young lady.

  The next day was a real scorcher. You know those hot summer afternoons when you look into the distance and it’s all hazy and wavy because of the heat rising from the pavement? Or those days when you can sense the heat inside somehow, even with all the air-conditioning? It was that kind of day. My mother popped in, presumably to check that her daughter was still alive, and grabbed a few things before zooming back to the city.

  “Nice to see you, stranger,” I said before she left.

  “Why, Naomi,” she said, half turning toward me. “You’d almost think you missed me.”

  I didn’t say anything, which pleased her. I didn’t miss her, not exactly, but it might’ve been nice to have another time like the one we had at the nail salon. Not that I’d want to plan it out or anything, but if we happened to run into each other for more than five minutes, it might be okay to hang out a little. Maybe.

  Then again, I reflected, she’d probably end up saying something to piss me off. So maybe it was better that we weren’t up each other’s butts that summer.

  Jeff came over to pick me up for dinner, and I was already nervous for what was about to transpire. When we got into his car to go over to Delilah’s house, we looked at each other.