“Sure.”
“Are your good grades luck, or do you work like a beast?”
I thought. “Maybe a little bit of both. But learning Chinese is like riding a bike. One day you just get it.” I sat at the table. “Help yourself to cookies.”
She stared at the plate and laughed. “Cookies? Thanks, Granny. But if I have to be a fatty, it won’t be off lard-packed Oreos.”
I flushed. “They were already there,” I lied. “My dad’s girlfriend put them out.”
“Whatever.”
As we got into the work, I continued to lose credibility. My hopes of Ella’s unending gratitude, followed by a spontaneous, late-night invite to Lindy’s party, all went swirling down the daydream drain. Not that it was exactly my fault. Ella had no talent for the language, and the longer we went at it, the crueler it seemed to force her. Only it was Ella who was getting angry.
“I knew this wouldn’t work,” she said, pushing back her chair. “You’re making it more complicated. You’re as suckass as Filth.”
“I’m sorry.” I hated to fail in Ella’s eyes. The tiniest flick of her criticism was like a whiplash.
We struggled with interrogations until nine-thirty.
“You’re not really concentrating anymore.” I pointed at one of her mess-ups as she texted on her phone. “Shì bú shì is three distinct characters. You know that.”
She looked up. “I like shì bú shì. It’s a cute word, isn’t it? It’s three syllables and kind of means nothing.” She began to tap her finger and sing. “Live your life, shì bú shì, is my song, shì bú shì . . .”
“Actually, it’s called a tag,” I said. “But getting back to the grammar—”
“Speaking of tags.” Ella swiped three cookies off the plate, her voice spiced with mischief. “Tag, you’re it, game over, time to do something else, shì bú shì?” She checked her watch. “Noreen’s not coming for me for another hour. Where’s your online?”
I had a computer in my room, only I didn’t want Ella in there, with all my personal stuff. But the basement den was so skunky.
She was waiting. It was one or the other. There was no win here, I realized. This whole night was about playing defense. I just had to hope I got through it intact.
seven
The den was mostly a TV and laundry room, with a section for Dad’s desk and laptop that he rarely used since he did most business at the shop. The lighting was ghoulish, but Ella didn’t seem to notice. She’d gone straight for the bookshelf where Stacey kept a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream for nights that she wanted a kick in her coffee.
“Will they care?” Ella asked. “Just a drop. To forget the horrendousness that is Mandarin.”
I didn’t answer. There was no casual way to take the bottle from her. I’d have to hope that when Ella said a drop, she meant a drop.
Bottle in hand, she perched at the edge of Dad’s chair and logged on to Facebook, but not as herself.
“Who’s Groaner?” I asked. The kid in the display photo had limp black hair and a sulk.
“Groaner’s friends with my sister, Mimi. He’s in this band Raised By Wolves and he likes when I friend high school kids under his profile because I bring in new fans. He’s how I got to be ‘friends’ with Mia McCord.” On the word friends, Ella inchwormed a one-fingered, sarcastic quotation mark.
“Mia McCord is Julian Kilgarry’s girlfriend, right?” I clicked some images of Groaner’s band.
Ella glanced up. “If using her for one-nighters means girlfriend, then, sure.” She moved the cursor so that she could check out Mia’s most recent set of photos. “She’s posted her parents’ anniversary. Baby blue pants, yak. Her mom must have made her wear that.” Her fingers flew as she commented sweet pix M. u r feerce.
I watched. “Mia’ll think Groaner left her that message?”
“Uh-huh.” Ella smirked. “I’m just playing with her. For what she did to me.”
“What’d she do?”
I could tell Ella was working to sound unperturbed. “Last month when I took Jay-Kay to Alison Sonenshine’s Sweet Sixteen at Radnor Hunt Club, Mia hooked up with him out by the steeplechase course. Basically, Julian stranded me for half the night until he needed a lift home since he didn’t want one from Mia’s daggy ho mom.”
“But Julian’s been hooking up with Mia since kindergarten,” I said, remembering what I’d overheard in the locker room at school.
When Alison had said it, Ella barely reacted. But this time, she got furious. “Like that gives her the right?” she snapped. “Mia’s date was Thomas Crockett—and I didn’t skank off with Thomas, did I? This party was black tie and we’d all been looking forward to it since last year. We’d spent the whole day doing mani-pedis and getting blowouts, and to have him spoil it the way he did was full-on evil. So disrespectful, you have no idea.”
True. I had no idea. I’d never been to a Sweet Sixteen, but one thing I did know was that Ella’s “revenge” was off. “Then you should be getting back at Julian,” I said. “All you’re doing here is making Mia think Groaner likes her. In fact,” I pressed, “you make Mia’s life better—not worse—with that game. She’s probably told all her friends about the emo Harvard musician in love with her.”
Ella looked thrown. “How could I prank Julian? He’d vent to his boys and then I’d look like a head case.”
“Not if he never found out it was you.”
She sipped from the bottle. More than a drop. “Listening.”
I hesitated. I had only one card up my sleeve, and every molecule of my body was shooting for Ella’s approval. If I shared Elizabeth, maybe I could redeem myself from this night. I’d bombed as Ella’s tutor, and she hadn’t once mentioned our going to Lindy’s party. It was time to roll the dice.
“Check this out.” I leaned in and tapped in Elizabeth’s name and password.
And there she was. Cryptic smile, doe eyes, dewy skin.
“Ooh-la-la. Who’s this muffin?” Ella started to scroll. “Does she know you’ve got her password? Is she really friends with all these guys? Ha, I know Cole Willing. And Harrison Pew. And Frank Senai. How does Elizabeth Lavenzck know them? Her name sounds familiar.”
“That’s because you’re remembering it from last semester’s English Lit class,” I said. “Elizabeth Lavenza was Dr. Frankenstein’s girlfriend.”
It took her a moment. “So . . . she’s not real? You invented her?” Delight lifted Ella’s face. “No way. That’s fantastic. ‘How was the debat and did you like the debat from yung age?’” Ella laughed. “Look, Julian’s online now.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’da thought he’d be at Lindy’s. That’s why I’m not. Bet he’s going later.”
My heart sank. I guess I’d never truly, realistically thought we’d be heading off to Lindy Limon’s house tonight.
“Julian’s almost never partying the weekend before deadline,” I explained. “He’s managing editor for The Wheel.”
Suddenly Ella swiveled. Slit eyes. Regarding me. “Aha. So you’re madly in love with Julian Kilgarry like everyone else?”
I tried for a scoff. “No, it’s because I’m managing editor for the Delta and I was in a Merion County interschool newspaper chat room when Julian dropped in and said how he . . .” My voice listed off as I watched Ella’s fingers race over the keyboard.
JK I am sooo borred tonite. taking funy pix of me if they r good I cant tell. what r u up 2? “You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” Rite? ☺
Ella sent the message, then kissed her fingertips and touched Julian’s screen image three times. It was an outdoors shot, with his face mostly shaded by a baseball cap. Standard guy picture.
“He won’t answer,” I said.
“He’ll answer this.”
“Why?”
Ella shrugged. “He’ll like it. It’s sweet and Julian likes to act sweet. When he’s not being a tool.”
WtP
�
��Oh my God! You got an answer! What does it mean?” I asked.
“Winnie-the-Pooh.” Ella straightened, energized. “Julian’s brother Silas and my sister, Mimi, went to Media Elementary together. The Winnie-the-Pooh quote was in the front hall. I always saw Julian when our moms picked them up.” She smiled. “I knew he’d remember. That’s my Jules.”
By now, he’d sent another message. who r u lavenzck? foto a fake?
This time I reached in and typed nothing fake about me big boy just give me a—
“Idiot, no. You’ll undo everything.” Ella brushed away my hand and pressed the delete cursor. “If you make Elizabeth all dumb and slutty, he’ll blow her off. He’s got to think she’s normal. Watch and learn.”
Quickly she typed in my countrey we get the profesionel pictur after having 18 yrs. In krakow by now id be wife so 2 b in art scool insted is dream come tru. I do not want husbin yet l am lonly for nice boys.
I nodded. “Loving the spelling. You’re a natural.”
She looked up. “I do know how to spell, Raye. I’m not a moron. If that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“I was only kidding.” I felt bad, and a little scared. Ella could strike like a snake when she wanted. “I’m sorry.”
Julian’s response was about a family trip he’d taken to Warsaw where he’d sat in the back of a truck and handed out oranges to children.
Ella’s smile bloomed as we read. “Darling, I think he’s bought it.”
Unbelievable. Hundreds of times I’d imagined a conversation with Julian Kilgarry, and here it was. Even if it was online. Even if it was Ella pretending to be Elizabeth who wasn’t real. I’d invented Elizabeth. Part of me was in there somewhere.
But his next comment proved that Julian had some doubts.
send real-time pic now of u drinking o.j.—proof yr not wanking me @
“Uh-oh.” Ella slid back on the chair’s wheeled castors and leaned up for the Bailey’s bottle.
“Now what?”
“Now nothing. I did too fabs a job getting Jay-Kay to like Elizabeth. But unless you’ve got a candid of a girl who looks like that one, drinking juice so he knows that there’s a real-time face behind that text, we’re done.”
“Oh.” A vertigo of disappointment spiraled through me.
Ella didn’t notice. Her eyes had gone flinty as she stared at the screen. “But screw him anyway. That jerkoff put me in the most humiliating situation of my life when he left me to play tongue tag with Mia.”
“It’s hard to believe any guy—even Julian—would just drop you like that.”
“I know, it’s almost unbelievable, isn’t it? And if it was my nightmare night,” continued Ella, “it was Lindy’s dream come true. She loves Julian. I mean, we all do—but I’m the only one who makes sense with him. Except that apparently he prefers pitiful little skid marks like Mia. Some guys don’t want their equal.” Ella took a breath. Her fingertips tapped together. I counted off nine precise beats. “Whatevs, I’m so over that guy. It was fun to mess with him tonight, though.”
“Except,” I noted, “that we didn’t really do anything.”
“What do you mean? What could we do?”
I shrugged. “Revenge is two wrongs that make a right. Julian did something wrong. What did you do wrong?” I sounded more relaxed than I was, since all I wanted was to stay in the game. For a moment, it was like Julian Kilgarry had been right here, in this den, chatting with us. But Ella had dominated the conversation. I hadn’t had a chance to send a single note of my own.
“So what’s your genius strategy?” Ella was staring at me, her bottom lip hung in a pout. The same expression as when Filth (and I) corrected her Chinese.
“Give me a minute,” I said. “I’ll be right back and you’ll see.”
eight
Monday, Ella and I didn’t talk until midmorning break. She found me in the library window seat cramming for a possible quiz in Honors European History.
“Did you get anything else?” Her voice startled me. My heartbeat quickened as I closed my book.
“You mean after when he said thanks for sending the photo?”
“Well, considering all the effort, I expected more from our boy.”
I nodded. “There was.” I hadn’t wanted to tell Ella exactly what had happened after Noreen had picked her up. But now, face to face, I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to hold her attention.
“Ooooh. Requestation to spill.” Ella hoisted herself up on the seat, swinging in her legs and leaning against the window glass. Outside was gray. Ghost sky and ghost trees. But the sun was shining inside, right on me, in the form of Ella’s seductive smile. “And by the way?” As she tapped a finger gently once, twice, three times on my wrist. “You didn’t give the right password to Elizabeth. I couldn’t log on.”
“Oh, sorry! I’ll text it to you later.”
“Whenever. I mean, it’s not like it’s the major event of my life, shì bú shì.” She lifted her arms to retie her ponytail scarf as she looked around. The library was mostly empty but she whispered anyway. “So? What’d he write?”
“Only that he thought I—Elizabeth—whoever—was cute.”
“Cute like a puppy or cute like dang, girl?”
I smiled. “Not a puppy. He wanted another picture. A ‘natural one,’ he said. I think he meant no blue wig. And . . . he might want to get together.”
Ella was silent. I could tell she wasn’t happy but not totally surprised, either.
When I’d raced back down the stairs Saturday night wearing Stacey’s electric blue, chin-length wig from a past Halloween, it was only to continue the adventures of Elizabeth. It was an impulse move, and it had worked. As soon as she’d seen me, Ella had burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s perfect!” Then neither of us had been able to stop the momentum. Ella herself had put on my finishing touches, smudging in my eye-liner with the pads of her thumbs, blotting on my berry lipstick, and even pulling off her camisole from under her sweater for me to wear. I’d slid it over my bare skin, its silk still warm from Ella’s body.
We’d used Ella’s phone to take dozens of pictures. First of me. Ella had liked being the photographer. “Gimme some ’tude,” she’d commanded. “Yeah, baby. Now look like an assassin. Now look like you’re a high-class escort. Here”—handing me the Bailey’s. “Loosen up. Jeffey says that models are always on something. It gives them that glaze.”
I’d pretended to sip, then really sipped even though the Bailey’s was too sweet, like coffee-flavored cough syrup.
Then Ella had wanted to try out the wig herself. It hadn’t worked out. She couldn’t let go in front of the camera.
“Smile bigger,” I’d suggested. “Use teeth.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she’d commanded.
“Nope,” she’d said after we downloaded them. “Not gonna work. He’ll see that it’s me in two seconds. Let’s do more of you instead. You’re better at posing. Damn, Raye, check you out.” She’d seemed puzzled and yet pleased. As if we’d peeled away my nondescript “new girl” layer and discovered a secret self.
I’d been surprised by the photos, too. I looked so much older (hotter, better) behind my mask of blue hair, black eyes, red lips and creamy silk. It was a fairy tale transformation, with Ella in the role of superstar fairy godmother.
So I’d put the wig on again while Ella snapped away, both of us freer now, laughing, playing our parts of sexy model and swaggering photographer as the Bailey’s was passed back and forth.
“You sexy Euroho,” Ella had whooped as we’d downloaded the next batch. “You could give that bony-ass Jeffey a run for the money.”
“No way. Delete that one. And especially not that one. Way too soft core. Delete, please.” Watching as Ella had slid them one by one into the trash.
Ultimately, we’d picked a shot that we thought might intrigue Julian most: an angle of me looking over my shoulder and holding the glass of juice. Captioned with the comment here i am being soo sil
ley in mirer.
“Yeah, it seems like we got him pretty hooked on Elizabeth.” Now I spoke too loud, to fill the silence. “You took the key pictures Saturday night.”
“Ah, but. You totally worked that disguise,” Ella finally commented, in a voice that was not exactly friendly. “I think it’s because your real face is somewhat forgettable. Tell me what he wants. Something geeky—dinner and a movie? Or what?”
Somewhat forgettable. Ella was master of the offhand insult. Was that why I’d given her the wrong password to Elizabeth’s page? Maybe. All I knew was that on Saturday night, I’d resisted splitting Julian fifty-fifty.
I didn’t want to now, either.
“He didn’t make a specific plan. Just that he wants to meet sometime,” I said. Not daring to tell Ella how extensively Julian and I had been in touch, on and off, all weekend.
“Priceless.” Ella’s arms were locked tight around her knees as she wriggled in the window seat. “You realize what it means, don’t you?”
My stomach was crawling. “What?”
“Actually, don’t worry about it. Leave the whole plan up to me. Details to follow.” She slid off the seat and slipped her tote over her shoulder. “I’ve been trying to figure out why you look different. And now I know.” She made a kissy face.
She meant the berry lipstick from the photo session. I’d borrowed it from Stacey’s makeup kit. And I hadn’t returned it. The tube was nesting in the bottom of my bag.
Self-conscious, I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth as Ella shook her finger.
“No, no. Keep it on. You’ve got the lips for it.” She winked. “I’ll call ya tonight, Looze.”
“Right.”
I watched her swing through the door, causing the librarian to look up, perplexed. Ella wasn’t a girl who hung out at the library. Then she cast a glance at me, and I could tell that my Ella association hadn’t won me any points with her.
But I didn’t care about that. Ella’d given me a compliment. Even better, she’d called me Looze. A pet name, an inner-Group-sanctum name. In all my months at Fulton, I’d never felt less like a loser than right now. Ella Parker would be calling me tonight. Ella Parker and I had a plan. Details to follow.
The Julian Game Page 3
