by J. Minter
"Please ignore the scantily clad men who are bringing you your Pellegrinos, ladies. My mother thinks they're chic"
I narrowly avoided snorting out my Pellegrino, and I heard Meredith change her tune and mutter something derogatory about their uniforms. I guess TZ seemed to find whatever she said hilarious and endearing, though, because he laughed and kissed her on the cheek.
"Love this girl," he said.
"Where's everyone sitting?" I said, breaking away from the smooch fest.
I noticed the table was arranged with large sand dollars at each place setting that had our names printed on them to indicate the seating arrangement.
When we sat down, I was sandwiched between Meredith and Rob. Rob ended up being super shy, and I made it my pet project to get him to talk and even laugh a little bit at dinner.
"So, what's your favorite part of Nevis so far?" I asked him.
He leaned in to me. "This is sort of embarrassing, but I took the best nap ever today on a hammock. I never get to take naps anymore. I felt like I was in preschool."
"Oh my God, I know," I said, trying to dismiss the nightmare I'd had yesterday about Kennedy. "Naps are a vacation necessity. Tomorrow we should schedule a group nap time and just line up the hammocks."
This seemed to embarrass Rob, because he just blushed and said, "Cool."
But we laughed and dug into our mahimahi seviche. Maybe it was because Kennedy was sitting at the other end of the table, but I was finally able to get over my Nevis issues and just enjoy myself.
Around the time they were serving us the creme brulee, I was realizing how quickly the night was flying by, and I knew that I didn't want it to end. The whole table laughed when TZ asked a waiter if he could try on his uniform and again when Kennedy did an impression of Mrs. Zumberg falling over herself drunkenly to flirt with "the help."
Sure, it was kind of mean, but that was Kennedy's sense of humor. When you were on the inside, it was hilarious. It was just when you were on the outside of her jokes, or worse, the brunt of them that—wait, I wasn't thinking about that tonight. Tonight was about creme brulee and starlight and the perfect sound the water made when it crashed up against the shore. I laughed to myself when I realized that I'd just unintentionally SBBed myself out of a funk.
After dinner, we sat in a cluster on the beach, and Rob brought out his guitar. He didn't talk much, but he sure could sing.
"Free Bird!" a guy with dreadlocks named Josh jokingly called out. "You never sing Tree Bird' anymore."
"Yeah," TZ said, "and what about your excellent rendition of the 'Thong Song'?"
Rob made a gagging motion and started to play some old Neil Young stuff that I'd heard my dad play at home. It was totally mellow and a perfect choice for the mood.
The moon was so bright that we didn't need a fire, and I noticed that Kennedy and TZ were each wearing one of Meredith's necklaces. I guess she felt the need to make two more this afternoon. But actually, it was kind of cool to feel linked to the group because we were all wearing the necklaces together.
Finally, we were all on the inside.
When the singing was done, the boys insisted on giving all the girls piggyback rides home to their respective bungalows. Actually, it was entirely TZ's idea, but I think Rob kind of got into it when he hoisted me up on his back.
The whole clan of us laughed all the way home.
When we got to our front door, TZ whispered something in Meredith's ear, and she nodded. Rob shuffled awkwardly next to me.
"Did you have fun tonight?" he asked.
"So much fun," I said.
"Good," he said. "I was hoping you were having fun."
I hadn't told Rob that I had a boyfriend—not that I thought he'd ever try anything with me. He was way too shy and a little too young for my taste (read: my age). Still, he'd been fun to hang out with for a night.
"Well," TZ said, "I guess this is goodnight. You girls want to kick it on the beach behind our place tomorrow? Say around noon?"
"Perfect," I said, and Meredith nodded enthusiastically.
A few minutes later, the two of us were standing in the bathroom washing our faces before we parted ways at our bedroom doors.
"So," I said. "You and TZ?"
"Shhh," she said. "I don't want to jinx it. Nothing's happened yet. But omigod, how hot is he?"
"He's hot," I agreed. But it wasn't like Meredith to hold out on me. Usually she'd be spilling any details about even the most minuscule encounter with a guy. Omigod, he asked to borrow a pencil. What do you think it means?
Now she yawned dramatically. "Sooo tired. If I don't pass out in ten seconds, I think I'll fall asleep standing up."
"Sure," I said. "Well, good night."
I got in bed and lay there for a minute with the light on. I wasn't actually that tired. I thought about how much fun I'd had that night, how easy it was just to sit back and not get stressed about the little things that could have annoyed me. Kennedy was going to be the way she was going to be, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was glad that at least Mer and I were on better terms. It was going to make the rest of the week a whole lot easier.
I turned off the light and settled in to finally get some peaceful sleep.
But about three minutes later, I heard the very slow creaking of a footstep on a floorboard. Then another, and then another. It was Meredith heading down the hall.
Where was she going?
Before I could get up and out of bed, I heard the back door click behind her. By the time I got to the window to look out, I could only see her curly hair flying everywhere as she ran down the moonlit beach.
Chapter 13
NEVER CATFIGHT BEFORE COFFEE
The next morning, I made myself sit in the happy place. I tried to smile, even though I didn't feel like smiling. I tried to make minor adjustments in my attitude and physique. I even tried calling my parents, but they must have unplugged their bungalow's phone.
Still, even after all those efforts, I felt totally betrayed by Meredith. Worst of all, I felt ashamed of myself. It was embarrassing to remember how I had thought everything was going so well last night just because I had the approval of a few high-and-mighty private school kids.
And the thing with Meredith was really wigging me out the most. What had happened to her? In two days, she'd turned into a completely different person.
I waited for her to get home from her wild night out. I sat at the kitchen table, twiddling my thumbs. After a while, I got up and looked in the fridge, but my stomach churned at the thought of food. I twiddled my thumbs some more. I texted SBB.
SABOTAGED. REIGN OF TERROR CONTINUES. GETS WORSE.
But as soon as I sent it, a wave of guilt rushed over me, and I sent her a follow-up text.
NO NEED TO FLY OUT. JUST WANTED TO VENT.
She was such a good friend, and I didn't want to start taking her gracious overtures for granted. Still, I did want her to write back with some sage advice. And I knew when I was thinking of her advice as sage, I was really in trouble.
Ten minutes later, I gave up waiting for her response, because I realized I'd been staring at my phone, whose wallpaper was a picture I'd taken of Judith, Meredith, and me standing in front of Out of the Kitchen!, our favorite dessert spot. Ugh! I deleted the picture and switched to a display of a particularly cute picture of Noodles wearing black Marc Jacobs sunglasses.
Much better. Back to thumb twiddling.
It was only eight in the morning, but I'd already been waiting for an hour. I slumped over the kitchen table and moped. I couldn't help but imagine what TZ must have whispered in Meredith's ear last night, right before we all said goodnight. I'd been on such a high at the time that I didn't even think too much about it. But now, my mind was swimming with unpleasant possibilities.
Just wait till she's asleep, and then the rest of us can start having fun.
Just like Kennedy always says, she's so unchill.
Lose the charity case and meet me on the
beach.
"Please shut up!" I shouted out loud to myself.
"Uh, Flan, are you okay?"
Slowly, I lifted my head off the table. It was Meredith. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking a little bit afraid of me. She kind of had good reason to be. I was definitely acting a bit crazy.
"Where were you last night?" I asked, feeling both embarrassed for having to call her out and indignant that she was pretending nothing was wrong.
"What do you mean?" she said. Her voice sounded an octave higher than normal. "I was with you. Dinner on the beach? Remember?" She giggled. It was a pretty fake and unbecoming sound.
"You know what I mean," I said. I couldn't believe she was lying to me. "I heard you leave in the middle of the night. Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere. I just stepped outside for a minute. Fresh air, you know. I couldn't sleep." She shrugged and started pouring herself a bowl of Kashi.
"You stayed out all night."
"No, no, I didn't." She was stuttering—-a terrible liar. She fumbled while closing the box of cereal, and I watched the color rise in her cheeks. "I probably just got up earlier than you did this morning," she said. "I went for a walk."
"Meredith, what are you doing?" I asked, pulling myself up to sit on the counter next to her. "Since when do you have to lie to me?"
"Since when do you interrogate me and make me feel like I'm a jailbird under your watch?"
I sucked in my breath. What?
"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "I just . . . crap . . . Flan, the truth is, Kennedy wanted to go—"
I threw up my arms in the air. "Of course, Kennedy wanted to go . . ."
"She made me promise to keep the group super small. The kayak only held five people, and I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I just thought it'd be easier if I didn't tell you. I didn't mean for this to happen."
I watched Meredith grasp for words and could see how miserable this was making her feel. Suddenly, it was easy for me to see that the problem wasn't that Meredith was actively trying to exclude me. The problem was just that she could be a little spineless and would probably have a really hard time standing up to Kennedy. My anger subsided, just a tiny bit, and I started to feel more sorry for Meredith than anything else.
"You're going to get hurt," I said to her. As I said the words, I felt like Meredith's older sister, and I wanted to save her before she made the same mistake I'd made with Kennedy.
"What are you talking about?" she said. She was looking at herself in the mirror, repositioning her curls on her head.
"Kennedy is going to hurt you, Meredith. That's just what she does. You don't know who you're dealing with. Maybe it's all glamorous and exciting today, but I'm telling you, you're in way over your head."
Meredith's eyes got all squinty, and she took a step in my direction, pointing her finger at me.
"I get it. You're jealous."
"Meredith," I said, shaking my head.
"Admit it. You can't stand that I'm having fun here, and you're not. That I'm popular here, and you're not."
We stared each other down. This was a little intense for an early morning confrontation. Finally, I was the one who looked away.
"Sure, okay, yes," I said. "I wish I were having as much fun on this trip as you are. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But what I'm saying to you doesn't have anything to do with being jealous. I know from experience that Kennedy is not a good friend. I just don't want to see you make the same mistake I made."
Meredith rapped her nails on the table. I could see goose bumps rising on her arms.
"Did you ever think that your mistakes and your experiences turned out the way they did for a reason? That maybe I don't need advice from someone who had to switch schools because she lost all of her friends?"
Ouch. I took a step back, reeling from her words. I didn't even know what to say back. Since when did Meredith have a biting mean streak in her? I was just trying to help.
Maybe it was time for me to face the facts. If Meredith had crossed over to the other side—as witnessed by her newfound major bitchiness—then there was nothing else I could do.
I stood up from the table, went into my room, and closed the door behind me. Meredith slammed her own door, followed by all of the drawers in her dresser. Her cell phone rang, and I tried to block out the conversation, but she seemed to be shouting just for my benefit.
"Oh heyyy, Kennedy. Long time no talk, right? Ha! I know . . . I'm getting ready right now. We're going to look so hot with braids."
She paused, and I shook my head at the image of Meredith with cornrows in her hair. Her bone structure was all wrong. A friend would warn a friend against such a possible style misstep. But were we friends anymore?
Her phone conversation with Kennedy continued.
"Who, Flan? No, of course she doesn't have plans . . . don't worry, I'll go out the window if I have to."
I made a face at Meredith through the wall and at Kennedy through the phone. How could someone be so evil that her evilness could rub off on someone as innocent as Meredith?
A few minutes later, she jetted off to have her hair braided, and I was still lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed. SBB.
Hallelujah.
A real friend had come to my rescue. I opened my in-box and read her text message.
THEN IT COMES TO THIS. YOU MUST FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT. STEAL THE QUEEN BEE'S HONEY—HER MAN.
I stared at the screen for a while and just took it in. Hmm. Not entirely logical, and not entirely written in the modern English vernacular (was SBB suddenly filming a gladiator movie?), but at least her text was something.
Sure, going after anyone's love interest, especially when I had a love interest of my own (hmm, I should really call—or maybe text—Adam, shouldn't I?) wasn't really my style. But then again, being treated this way wasn't really my style, either.
Maybe it was time to stop playing nice and rational, Flan Flood-style.
Maybe it was time to get even.
Chapter 14
HOW TO STEAL THE HONEY
Here's the thing about TZ.
As confident and aesthetically perfect and seemingly intimidating as he was, I'd practically been raised on boys like him. It was one of the many advantages of having the type of older siblings that I had.
For as long as I could remember, Patch and Feb had been bringing their friends over to hang out at our place. At first, I hardly noticed them. I was too busy building pillow castle forts in our living room to take note of the future models, DJs, and socialites playing poker with Patch in my kitchen.
But I do remember the first time I did see one of the guys as something more than just an obstacle on my way to the refrigerator. It was my first day of sixth grade, and when I came home, a whole crew was hanging out in our breakfast nook, tearing through a pepperoni pie from John's Pizza.
Patch's friend Arno tugged on my ponytail and showed me his cards.
"What do you think, kid?" he asked. He nodded in Patch's direction. "Think he's got me?"
Most girls might have faltered, stuttered, or blushed. Arno was one of the best-looking freshman guys at Gissing, and his father owned the most prestigious gallery in Chelsea. But I wasn't most girls. I just grabbed the last slice of the pie and said, "Patch is bluffing. Hold 'em."
A slew of low whistles went around the table. Patch told me to get a life and leave his friends alone, but Arno just nodded at me, kind of in awe, and said, "Wow, where did you come from?"
Playing it cool with these guys was never something I had to think too hard about. Okay, I admit I wasn't completely consistent—sometimes I acted pretty goofy—but the point is that most of the time I didn't. And these guys really were older, cooler, and better-looking than most of the guys in the Abercrombie catalogs that most girls—Meredith included—probably grew up drooling over.
If Meredith ducked into the janitor's closet over a guy like Jules, would she even know what to do wit
h a guy like TZ?
I, on the other hand, had been groomed for this. As soon as I heard Meredith leave the bungalow, I knew what I had to do. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail (my ex-boyfriend Jonathan used to say that the height of a girl's ponytail was directly proportional to how fun she was—the higher the ponytail, the more she could party). I raided SBB's steamer trunk again for makeup options, and actually found a Stila cosmetic case called Beach Chic Chic. It was full of shimmery gold stuff that looked super feminine and natural. I also grabbed a hot pink string bikini from SBB's trunk and pulled a short, white bubble skirt over it. I slid on my white flip-flops and looked in the mirror.
It was so not my normal, casual, New York-sleek style. I looked like I was going out on the prowl . . . and in a way, I was. Of course, I wasn't going to actually do anything—I'd never betray Adam. Catching TZ's attention—scratch that, monopolizing his attention— had nothing to do with wanting him for myself. It had everything to do with reminding Kennedy and Meredith that they weren't the only girls on this island.
I trooped down to the beach. I wasn't totally sure what I was going to do when I found TZ, but I was confident that my improvisation skills and flirtation prowess would come through for me in the clutch.
Soon, I found just the bronzed, shirtless guys I was looking for. TZ, Rob, Paul, and a really built redheaded guy named Danny were playing beach volleyball on the court outside of TZ's bungalow. I recognized a few of the poncho girls, who had spread out their towels along the sidelines. They were spraying tanning oil on each other, reading magazines, and trying to look like they weren't totally staring down the boys.
For a second, I thought about joining them. I was sure we'd discover we had mutual friends, and it wouldn't be such a bad idea to make a few more allies on this trip, now that my original crew had virtually dissolved. But making girlfriends wasn't part of today's mission, and I figured there'd still be plenty of time to make friends throughout the week.
