Cam says, “I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
“Go in your underwear,” Pen says.
“Are girls gonna go in their underwear?” Cam asks.
“Sure, why not,” Pen says. Then Cam looks at me.
“Not a fucking chance,” I say. And everyone laughs, which is better than them thinking I’m a bitch. Which I am.
* * *
After Benedict drags Cam and Gator off to help him move some coolers, Iris asks me, “How are you?”
“Because you look miserable,” Pen adds.
“Well, you two know…” And I can’t believe I have girlfriends that know things. It’s nice. Scary. But nice. “… I’m a fucking disaster.”
They hug me because they’re girls but I like it so it’s fine. And then, as if Pen knows Art says “disaster” all the time, she says, “Do you know if Art is coming tonight? We invited a bunch of juniors along with the entire senior class.”
“That’s a lot of people,” I say.
Iris adds, “On the Facebook invite it says there won’t be alcohol, so a lot of the party kids won’t show up.”
“Or,” I say, “they’ll show up with their own alcohol.”
Pen’s eyes widen. “I really hadn’t thought about that, but it’s something I would have done pre-Benedict. I should warn his mom.” She jets off into the house.
Iris touches my shoulder. “I’m sure if Art shows up, nothing dramatic will happen.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.”
art
Because I can see the future, I put clothes in a backpack for my lunch with Bryan. That way we could shower and get ready at his house, which is much better because (A) his bathroom is twice as nice and twice as big as mine, and (B) I wouldn’t have to go home and get yelled at by my dad for not helping him pack.
Moving on before I move Tuesday!
Since I was pretty sure I’d see Zee at the party, I needed to look amazing. White-on-white Nikes (pristine white!), no socks, white pants, white button-down, black bow tie (yes, bow tie!), and a white jacket with gray and black stripes. I modeled this outfit after a Korean teenage television star who no one will know except me but if they knew of him, they’d know he was preppy perfection.
When I come out of the bathroom, Bryan sees me and says, “You look fabulous!” Ha, he didn’t say that at all. He said, “You look like a fucking tool.”
“Bryan, you look amazing in your cargo shorts and blue Star Wars T-shirt. It’s such a bold choice by you.”
He ignores my witty comment, heads out of his room and downstairs. “There better be good food at this party so I have something to eat while watching Cam beat you up.”
“Why would Cam beat me up? He tried to steal Zee from me! I should beat him up!”
“Okay, I can’t wait to see you beat Cam up.” Then he laughs really loud.
“If he does try to beat me up, you better stop him.”
“I’ll think about it.” He screams good-bye to his parents, who tell us to have a good time.
His mom even yells, “Flirt with a cute boy to help you forget about Taylor going to college!”
So as we get in his car, I have to say, “You have the best parents ever.”
“Fuck you.”
“Why are you saying that to me! I just said you had the best parents ever!”
“Because you’re saying that so you can gloat about knowing they’d be cool about it.”
“Well, yes, but that’s because you have the best best friend ever too.” I get a text. It’s Carolina. She wants to go with us to the party. So I ask Bryan, “Can we pick up Carolina on the way?”
“Will Trevor be there with his new girlfriend and will they cause as much drama as you and Zee?”
“Probably.”
“Then yeah, of course we can pick her up.”
* * *
So we swing by Carolina’s house. She’s always ready early and walking out the door before we even come to a complete stop. Carolina’s one of those girls that doesn’t really know she’s beautiful, so she usually dresses like she’s in fifth grade. But tonight she’s wearing (and almost pulling off) a small, tight purple dress because her ex is a walking erection who will probably need to have sex with every girl in Illinois before he realizes he’s still in love with her.
“Bryan, thank you sooo much for picking me up,” Carolina says as she gets into the backseat.
“As long as you entertain me by getting in a big fight with Trevor, I won’t make you pay me gas money.”
“He’s kidding,” I say. “I’m sure Trevor won’t be there.”
“Oh, he’ll be there … with Betsy. I hate him.” She loves him.
Bryan says, “My first boyfriend is going to be having sex with college boys in two weeks, so we can eat our feelings together.”
“Thanks, Bryan.” Then she turns my way. “Art … will Zee be there?” Hearing Zee’s name suddenly makes me fidgety, and I start breathing like I forgot how to breathe.
Bryan notices. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I think I’ve been in denial about seeing Zee.”
“You’re being overdramatic like always. It’s not like you had sex with her.”
Carolina utters this tiny “Oh,” but it’s plenty.
Bryan yells, “ARTHUR ADAMS! You had sex with a girl?”
“I loved her!”
“And then you kissed a boy?”
Now Carolina yells, “You kissed Jayden?!”
“Yes.”
Bryan: “You’re such a slut!”
Carolina: “He’s discovering things, right, Art?” She’s so nice.
But she’s set up Bryan: “He’s discovering he’s a slut!”
That may actually be true. But I say, “I was emotionally vulnerable because Zee dumped me for being gay!”
“But you ARE gay!”
“Or maybe he’s sexually fluid.”
“Thank you, Carolina.”
“A fluid slut. Get it? Get it?” Bryan says with a laugh.
Ha, ha, um, I think I might vomit. Like really. I can feel that gross, smelly, acidy stuff rising in my throat. It tastes like Bryan’s jalapeño kettle chips and I didn’t even have one.
Carolina reaches into the front seat and caresses my arm. “Maybe Art is so special that normal biology doesn’t apply to him.”
Bryan can’t come up with a clever retort to that, so he punches me in the same spot Carolina was just caressing as he turns down Benedict’s long driveway.
And yes, I’m definitely going to puke.
ZEE
The party arrivals start slow, but by seven—an hour after the official start time—Benedict’s three-hundred-yard driveway is a parking lot and the food table is being assaulted. There are at least a hundred people here, which is a ton, but more than twice that number were invited, so if everyone shows up, things could get nuts.
Since I brought it up, Pen asks me to keep a lookout for kids bringing alcohol. Kind of a sucky job, but Pen’s panicking that the cops are going to get called and Benedict’s mom’s going to get in trouble and then blame her. Since Pen’s been so awesome to me, I owe her, and I say, “Sure, I’ll be your narc.”
I perch myself up in the gazebo, which is raised on a miniature hill on the opposite side of the pool from the house. I can see pretty much everything and everyone from here. One eye is looking for booze and the other eye is looking for Art. Cam sits with me because he thinks he has to, but I tell him to go have fun and so he does. I watch him a bit as he talks to people. How everyone loves him. They should. He’s handsome, a great athlete, and nice to popular kids and outcasts alike. I sort of hate him, but maybe I’ll love him again if I watch everyone else loving him. And while I’m watching for alcohol and Art, and keeping an eye on Cam, I also might be catching glimpses of Iris and trying to decide if I’m really a lesbian or maybe I just really like Iris or maybe I just really hate Cam and he’s making me a lesbian.
* * *
So I guess
I’m watching for booze and Art to arrive and I’m watching Cam and Iris socialize as people jump in the pool with their clothes on. Now people are being thrown in the pool. And now some people are in only their underwear in the pool. And the music just got turned up and people are screaming for the hell of it. Fuck, the cops are going to get called even if no one’s drinking.
“Hey,” I hear this barely audible voice say. I look at the path leading up to the gazebo, and it’s some junior whose name I can’t remember. A track guy. Intense guy. Always walking the halls like he’s fucking pissed. Maybe that’s what people say about me.
“Hey,” I say.
“We’ve never met, officially, but I’m Trevor Santos.”
“I’m Zee.” And Zhila is like this sharp thing in my throat.
“Yeah, just wanted to say I really dug your mom.”
“How’d, uh…?”
“My mom was a client of your mom’s. And they became friends and my mom’s not the easiest person to be friends with, so that just shows your mom was fucking awesome.”
“That’s cool … thanks,” I say, but he doesn’t leave. He sits down next to me. So now I feel like I have to say something. “Didn’t you win the sixteen-hundred-meter race at state?”
“Fifth place. But thanks for thinking I won.” He smiles. It’s effortless. He’s dark like me, inside and out, and wiry, and tall, and fuck, am I thinking he’s hot? Am I just one big hormone who wants to make out with anyone that I have even the slightest chemistry with?
But I fake like I’m not thinking anything dumb and say, “You were only a sophomore, so I’m sure you’ll win next year.”
“I heard you’re into CrossFit,” he says.
“Yeah, how’d you hear that?”
“I asked around.” Is he flirting with me?
“Yeah. You should try it. You’d be good. I’d kick your ass, but you’d be good for a guy.”
“I think I’d like that. Getting my ass kicked by you.” He’s definitely flirting with me.
“THERE you are,” this girl says as she comes up the path. It’s Betsy Kwon. A senior. We always have a bunch of honors classes together. She’s on the track team too. She drapes herself over Trevor, then kisses him on the neck.
“Heya, Zee,” she says, and gives me that “bitch, stay away from my man” smile.
“Heya, Betsy.” I give her the “I want to move to another planet and not think about guys—or girls—for a decade” smile.
“I’m hungry,” Trevor says to neither of us, “let’s grab something. Nice to meet you, Zee.” And he, before walking away, gives me the “maybe in our next life” smile. So I give him the same smile back and then they’re gone.
And then I see the one person I don’t want to see.
Or the only person I want to see.
Art.
art
Since I didn’t throw up inside Bryan’s car, I decide this means I’m ready to get out and see Zee. She’ll probably be in the pool, kissing Cam, and I’ll wave and pretend I’m so happy to see her and—
I puke onto the roots of a tree on the edge of the driveway.
“Are you okay?” Carolina asks. Bryan hands me gum.
“Yes, I’m amazing.”
Carolina says, “‘Amazing’ is my and Art’s favorite word.”
“You two are dorks. Come on, let’s go already.”
I make sure there’s nothing gross on my lips, give myself a pep talk inside my head, and then step out in front of Bryan and Carolina as we round the house toward the backyard, where the party is already at a ten out of ten on the crazy scale.
ZEE
Art.
The kid.
The beautiful boy who was once, briefly, my beautiful boy.
From my shadowy, distant perch in the gazebo, I watch him. He’ll never notice me, so I just study his movements. The way he greets other kids, the way he listens, how he holds himself. Maybe seeing him exist when he doesn’t know I’m there will help me understand why he penetrated my life so deeply and so quickly.
He looks happy. Really happy. Maybe he’s over whatever it is we were. Maybe he’s forgotten all about us. He’s dressed like this is a wedding. Like it’s his wedding. Like he should be the center of everyone’s attention. And you know, he probably should. He just looks different from everyone else. What did I call him when we were in the shower together? An angel. Yeah. He looks like a supernatural being floating an inch off the ground among the rest of Riverbend’s mere mortal teenagers.
art
It takes me four point two seconds to find Zee hiding off by herself in the gazebo on the other side of the pool. And she’s watching me! She thinks I don’t notice her but, Zee, you forget that you are my mythical creature and I’ll know where you are even if you take a rocket ship seven galaxies away.
But I pretend I don’t see her. I love this plan.
Yes, my heart is thumping so hard I can hear it in my head even though there’s a million teenagers here all talking far louder than necessary. And I still have the taste of vomit in my mouth even though I’m on my third piece of Bryan’s gum. But I’m such a good actor, she won’t notice. She’ll only see how much I’m enjoying talking to other kids, how I haven’t thought about her at all, how—
Oooh, there’s Cam. I’m going to talk to Cam. This is a terrible, brilliant idea—
ZEE
He’s going to talk to Cam, isn’t he?
I stand.
No.
I sit back down. What could the kid even say? Tell him about the motel? You can’t just say something like that. He would never.
He fucking might.
I stand up again—
art
“Hello, Cam!” I hug him. That was awkwardly enthusiastic, even for me.
“Hey, Art.”
“How are you and Zee?”
He can’t answer fast enough for me because I-will-hate-anything-that-leaves-his-mouth.
“I hope you’re great, you two are so perfect for each other. I’ve always thought, ‘Why’s he dating Abigail? He should date Zee! She’s so great. She’s the best.’” I’m reasonably confident I am no longer attached to my body.
“You okay, Art?”
“I’m great. I’m so great. I’m the greatest I’ve ever been, in fact.”
“Hey.” He leans in, whispers, “Abigail hasn’t returned any of my texts. She doing okay?”
Why’s he texting Abigail? Now I’m feeling like he’s betraying Zee even though I should want him to so she can be mine again.
“Never mind. Don’t tell Zee I asked about Abigail.”
I’m wondering why he changed the subject so fast right up until I hear her voice. “Hey, Art…”
ZEE
He turns away from Cam when he hears my voice. And suddenly there we are. Less than a foot apart. We’re so close. And so far. That’s dumb. Dumb but true.
“Hi, Zee, so great to see you,” he says, and, listen, up close, he’s not … he’s so fucking beautiful I want to press him into me until we’re the same fucking person … but he’s not happy like I thought from a distance. The way he’s looking at me …
art
She doesn’t say anything. I say it’s great to see her because I’m a great performer and I’m not going to make this dramatic. I’m going to be happy she’s happy with Cam and she won’t know how unhappy I am because I don’t want anything but for her to be happy—
—oh-my-god, I’m going to cry—
ZEE
He’s going to cry. In front of Cam.
“Are you crying, Art?” Cam says.
“No,” Art says as tears are falling down his fucking cheeks.
I take him by the arm. “Cam, give me a minute with Art.” I start pulling him away. We’ll go to the gazebo. Yeah. Or maybe another country and be what we were in the motel but we won’t judge ourselves because no one we know will be around to judge us.
“Why do you need to talk to him?” Cam says, clueless. I wan
t to say because Art would never be clueless but that’s Bitch Zee and I don’t want to be Bitch Zee. I just want to take care of Art right now.
But then I hear the scream.
More like a squeal of some giant dying beast.
Abigail—
art
—Abigail:
“AAAHAAAHHAHAHHAHAHA!”
It’s pretty amazing how loud she screams. There are hundreds of people here, dancing and screaming and swimming and Abigail makes a noise so loud that all of them stop what they are doing and look toward her.
Someone even turns down the music so everyone else can hear what happens next.
ZEE
I’m holding Art by the arm, standing on the patio near the diving board. Cam’s a few feet away from us toward the middle of the pool. Every other kid at the party has gone still, whether they were in the pool or at the buffet or in the grass making out. They’re watching. Ready for a show.
Abigail’s standing at the shallow end, next to the pool steps. She’s shoeless, in a short leather skirt and the same orange top I was in a week ago. Her makeup is sliding off her face from the sweat pouring down her head. Abigail is drunk. Beyond drunk. So drunk she looks possessed. And worse? She’s not alone.
art
Behind my sister is her uber-creepy ex Will Safire and at least a dozen other former Riverbend preppy high school jocks. Except no one looks preppy anymore, or even athletic, just mean and old—so old! One of them must be almost thirty! Above anything, they’re all drunk. Abigail can barely stand. Will Safire and his cronies have those droopy, enflamed red eyes. They’re all drunker than I’ve ever seen my parents. (And I’ve seen my parents pretty darn drunk.) Drunker than you see on TV, because it’s not a funny drunk or even a pathetic drunk, it’s—
The Handsome Girl & Her Beautiful Boy Page 23
