Fool's Gold

by Melody Carlson

  I nod. “Yeah, thanks.” I suppress the urge to tell her that I just got it, especially for this party. Vanessa has made it clear that too much talk focused specifically on money or clothes makes it sound like you’re trying too hard. “It has to look easy,” she keeps telling me. “You look great too,” I tell Felicia. “But then, you always look amazing.”

  She smiles again, and I can’t tell, but I think it may be partially sincere. “Why, thank you.” Then she turns to Wyatt and says, “It looks like you took my advice.”

  “Advice?” He looks wary.

  “About hooking up with Hannah. Why, this girl’s got it all. She’s a surfer chick and knows her way around fashion. How much better could you do?”

  Now Wyatt smiles as if he’s relieved, but I think I hear sarcasm in her tone. Even so, I keep smiling.

  “There you are,” says Vanessa, moving toward me. “I wondered if you two would ever get here. We’re expecting Clayton any second. The plan is to hide out by the pool and then yell surprise.”

  “And such a clever plan it is,” says Felicia. Then she goes over to greet someone else.

  I feel Wyatt’s arm slipping around my waist, and I suspect he’s thinking that we’re home free. But I’m thinking the party hasn’t even begun.

  Bryce and Vanessa are shooing us all outside now. And to keep Clayton off track, all the lights are out. The sun is just going down. Wyatt and I go off to a corner where he slips both arms around me and pulls me toward him for a little kiss. But I feel uncomfortable. It must be all those years of mission-school rules. Anyway, I pull away.

  “What’s wrong, babe?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. I just thought I heard someone saying that Clayton was coming.” And then, to my great relief, Clayton is coming and we’re all yelling “Surprise!” and “Happy birthday!” and people are going forward and congratulating him. And Wyatt and I get rather swallowed up by the crowd. Soon the lights and music come on, and people start eating and drinking and loosening up. Even though I really don’t want it, I take the wine cooler that Wyatt brings me. I’d much rather have a soft drink. But I sip at it and look around at the people. As always, everyone looks nice — make that expensive — and I realize that if it weren’t for my clothes, I would not feel like I fit in at all. Even now, I’m not so sure.

  “Where did you get that outfit?” Elisa is suddenly asking me. “It’s so great on you.”

  So I tell her, briefly, then add, “Vanessa helped me pick it out.”

  Elisa winks at me as if she already knows. “Well, you look absolutely amazing in it.”

  “You’re looking quite chic yourself,” I say. “But I’ve never seen you not.”

  “Oh, you’re just being sweet.”

  “No, I love your style.”

  She hooks her arm into mine now. “Well, I’m going to have to adopt you as my new best friend, Hannah. You think Vanessa will mind?”

  I know she’s kidding, but my discomfort only increases as she takes me around, introducing me to people I haven’t met. I wonder if this is something that she and Vanessa set up to get at Felicia. Mostly it’s just making my head hurt, and I know I’ll never remember all these names.

  “Oh, you’re that cute little Aussie girl who was surfing with Wyatt,” says a pretty Asian girl with short hair. “I wish I knew how to surf.”

  “You should learn,” I tell her. “It’s really fun.”

  “But I’ve heard you can get really bruised up. My brother even knocked a tooth out while he was trying to learn. And then there are the sharks.” She gives a dramatic shudder.

  “Hey, babe,” says Wyatt from behind me. “Where’d you run off to?”

  Elisa smiles at him. “I was just introducing her around. I guess you can have her back now.”

  So we go sit over by some of Wyatt’s friends, and before I know it, Wyatt has brought me another wine cooler, even though I haven’t finished the first one. “I’m alright,” I tell him. “I think I’ll just have a soft drink next go ‘round.”

  “Just want you to have fun, babe.”

  Then I sit and listen as Wyatt replays to his buddies how “epic” the surfing was today. I try to appear interested, but I’ve heard this surf report once already. Finally I excuse myself to the ladies’ room and go inside the house. The truth is, I actually do need to go. I ask Vanessa (who is acting uncharacteristically domestic as she arranges crackers and cheese on a silver tray) for directions, and she points me to one of the closest guest-bedroom suites. “It’s lots roomier than the powder room,” she tells me. So I follow her directions and head down the hallway.

  This is one of the oldest homes I’ve been in since coming to the States. I reckon this house might be nearly one hundred years old. And quite glamorous. I heard that some old movie star built it back when films were just beginning. I remind myself to try to find out more. The bedroom is rather splendid with its gilt furniture and silky bedspread and large mirrors everywhere. I go through it until I come to the bathroom in back, then close and lock the door. I take my time in the bathroom, allowing myself to really admire all the old fixtures and marble and whatnot. And then I hear female voices outside the door. Thinking someone is waiting, I’m about to go out when I hear, “That Hannah is so totally lame!” and then laughter.

  I pause with my hand on the gold doorknob, waiting for more.

  “She thinks she’s so hot, like she can just waltz in here and take Wyatt,” says a voice that sounds exactly like Felicia’s.

  That’s when I notice a keyhole above the ornate doorknob. I bend down to look through and see that it is Felicia. Along with Bree and Elisa. Now, I’m not surprised to see Bree, but I thought Elisa was on our side. Not that we have sides. They’re primping in front of one of the big mirrors.

  “Wyatt’s only into her because of the surfing thing,” Elisa says to Felicia. “Vanessa told me so.”

  “How does Vanessa know?” asks Felicia.

  “She’s Hannah’s cousin,” says Bree.

  “I know that,” snaps Felicia. “I mean how does Vanessa know what Wyatt’s interested in?”

  Now I’m wondering if this isn’t some kind of setup for Felicia. Maybe Elisa is working as a double agent. So I just continue to listen and watch through my peephole.

  “Well, everyone knows that Hannah is . . . well, she’s not one of us,” continues Elisa. “I mean, you should’ve seen her when she got here. Her hair was this mousy brown with a horrible cut, and she wore these awful clothes that looked like she’d found them in some homeless shelter.”

  More laughter.

  “And her parents are missionaries!” says Felicia as if this is as funny as being clowns in a circus. “I just learned that delectable bit of news from Jessie. Of course, Jessie thinks that’s a positive. But then you guys know what a freak Jessie is. I think she’d like to become a missionary herself.”

  Now the laughter is absolutely grating.

  “Seriously, Felicia,” says Elisa. “Don’t worry about her. I don’t think she has a chance with Wyatt.”

  “No one can compete with you, Felice,” says Bree in a way that makes me think that Bree might as well bend over and lick Felicia’s pretty Prada sandals.

  “Well, if Hannah the missionary thinks she can get into this crowd with the purchase of one measly Iceberg outfit, she better think again.”

  “It was a nice outfit,” says Bree meekly.

  “It makes her butt look big,” says Elisa.

  “And that color . . .” Felicia makes a face into the mirror. “Well, it’s okay for my grandmother.”

  “And Hannah,” adds Elisa, a bit too vindictively I think. I’m rethinking the whole double agent thing.

  They all laugh.

  “But I don’t get it,” says Bree. “I thought you and Vanessa were friends. Why are you standing up for Felicia all of a sudden?”

  “Elisa and I were friends way back in grade school, weren’t we?” Felicia is putting her arm protectively around Elisa now. />
  “Vanessa’s been more like a project than a friend,” says Elisa. “I mean, her dad runs a cleaning business, puh-leez! And she had absolutely no fashion sense when they first moved here. I guess I felt sorry for her and decided to be like Pygmalion for her.” She laughs now as if this is really funny.

  “Like in that old movie Clueless?” asks Bree.

  “That’s such a lame movie.”

  “Well, you did a good job with her anyway,” says Bree. And although I’m liking this girl more, I’m also thinking she’s pretty clueless herself.

  “A good job?” says Felicia hotly. “A good job?” Then she turns to Elisa. “No offense, but Vanessa is a loser. Anyone can see it. First of all, her dad runs a janitorial service — I mean, he cleans toilets for a living, for pete’s sake! Second of all, Vanessa is totally hopeless. I mean, not only is she fat, but she’s boring. And the way she gloms on to people just because they have money. It makes me sick. Like Bryce, for instance. You think she really sees anything in that nerdster?”

  “I kind of like Bryce,” says Bree in a meek voice.

  “Well, that just figures.” Felicia turns back to Elisa. “But, seriously, don’t be offended, Elisa. You did your best with Vanessa. You took the poor girl as far as she could go. She just doesn’t have it. Honestly, I’d have more hope for that hokey Hannah the missionary than Vanessa. At least she’s not fat — ”

  And that’s all I can take. I burst out the door and just stare at the three of them. “That’s enough!” I say when I’ve recovered enough to speak. “You three girls should be ashamed of yourselves talking about a mate like that. You are nothing but a bunch of superficial, self-centered, dimwitted snobs. And Vanessa is way better off without the whole lot of you. I know that I’m ready to be rid of you. Why I ever tried to be part of this lamebrain crowd is way beyond me!” Then I stomp out of the room, go straight to Wyatt, and tell him I want to leave.

  eighteen

  IT DOESN’T TAKE LONG TO FIND WYATT. HE’S STILL SITTING WITH HIS mates, still chugging down beers, and still regaling them with tales of adventures in surfing.

  “I want to go home,” I tell him.

  “But the party’s just starting,” he complains.

  “Fine. Stay if you like, but I’m going. I don’t care if I have to call a cab.”

  “What’s wrong, babe?” He’s on his feet now and escorting me to what I’m sure he thinks is a quieter corner.

  I give him the short version of what I just heard, and he starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I demand.

  “Chicks. They’re just like that.”

  “I’m not like that.”

  “Well, you’re different, Hannah.”

  “That’s right. And I have no desire to be a part of this crowd.” By now I can see the vicious trio emerging. You could never tell by their faces that I’d just given them what for. But why should that surprise me? These girls are so cool you could make Popsicles up their backsides!

  “Just chill,” he tells me. “This, whatever it is, will blow over.”

  “I’m not going to chill. I’m gonna get going.”

  And then I walk away. I have no idea whether he is coming or not. And I’m not sure that I care. I stop by Vanessa, who’s still working in the kitchen. “Sorry, cuz, but I’m leaving early.”

  “You’re leaving?” She looks dismayed, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and hug her and tell her to run while she can. But I don’t. This is Vanessa’s crowd. She probably knows them better than I do. “Is Wyatt taking you home?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

  “Did you guys have a fight?”

  “Not really. I’m, uh, I just want to go is all.” I can tell by now that Wyatt is probably not coming. “I think I’ll call a cab.”

  “No, don’t do that,” says Vanessa. “Why don’t you take my car? I’ll have Bryce run me home later.”

  “You sure?”

  She nods and jots down some basic directions to get me back to the right freeway. “Just take care.”

  “No worries,” I tell her. “You do the same.”

  “My keys are in my purse, and that’s back in the second bedroom on the left down the hallway.”

  “Thanks.” So once again, I head down the hallway. I’m feeling slightly less furious than I was earlier, but I’m still about as mad as a cut snake. I can’t get those girls’ words out of my head. I go into what I assume is the right bedroom, a very opulent-looking room full of rugs and antiques and art objects. But something’s not right. And I can hear this sniffling sound. I peer across the dimly lit room to see a small figure sitting in a plush red chair. There, with tears streaming down her face, sits an ancient-looking, white-haired lady. I can’t help but notice her jewelry, and I wonder if she served as inspiration for the phrase “dripping in diamonds.”

  “Please excuse me,” I say quickly, realizing I must’ve walked in on Bryce’s grandmother. “I must’ve gotten the wrong room. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Please leave,” she commands me in a shaky voice.

  “Yes,” I say, nervously backing up. “I’m terribly sorry.” I consider asking her what’s wrong, but her icy expression is too intimidating. It seems obvious that she’s not interested in my companionship. Even so, I feel sorry for her. She seems extremely unhappy. As I locate the right bedroom, not nearly as ritzy as the suite Bryce’s grandmother occupies, I can’t shake the image of that old woman from my head. The thought of her sitting there in complete misery amid her accumulation of wealth and riches is rather disturbing.

  I find Vanessa’s purse and remove her keys, then retrace my steps through this maze of a house, careful not to walk in on Bryce’s grandma again. I hear the voices of partiers down the hall, including Elisa’s. I still feel a bit confused about that girl. At first I really believed she was putting on an act. After all, she’s been quite nice to me, generally speaking, even taking me about and introducing me to her mates tonight. But when she spewed out all that nonsense about how she’d played Pygmalion to Vanessa, recreating her so she’d be fit for society — the society of a bunch of dogs — it made me feel sick.

  I drive Vanessa’s beautiful car with the top down through this glamorous neighborhood, me dressed in my designer clothes, and I don’t feel the least bit impressive. Even when some blokes honk their horn, waving and whistling at me, I still feel like a total loser. Not so much because of what happened tonight. Felicia and her mates aren’t worth feeling bad over. I feel rotten because I am seeing myself as I really am.

  Despite whatever image I think I may have created or am possibly projecting, I feel more lost and pitiful than ever before. Worse than this, I feel like I’ve been shafted. But I reckon it’s my own fault. And my worries about debt and money make me feel like I can barely breathe. I am fully aware that I am going in the hole and going fast! After seeing today’s paycheck and doing the arithmetic, I realized that by the end of the summer, I will have nothing whatsoever saved for uni or a trip to Dallas to see my brothers or anything else for that matter, and I may have to get a second job just to pay for this stupid designer outfit I’m wearing tonight.

  And all for what? How did I get myself into this bungle? And why? I feel like the biggest loser in the entire civilized world — make that uncivilized too because the people in our village back in New Guinea would never be this stupid. I should’ve known better than to fall into an idiot trap like this. What on earth is wrong with me?

  And I have to wonder while I’m at it if I would have ended up in this hopeless hole if I hadn’t pushed God out of my life. Maybe Jessie was right. Is this my just reward for turning my back on him? If it is, I just might want to give up completely. Why bother? Why don’t I just drive Vanessa’s beautiful car over a cliff? I happen to know where a good one is on the way to the VanHorn’s beach house. But with my luck I’d emerge without a single bruise, her car would be ruined, and then I’d owe even more money for that.

&nb
sp; So I keep driving as if everything is fine. Anyone who sees me right now probably assumes that my life is just as perfect on the inside as it appears to be on the outside. Young, rich girl driving gorgeous car — doesn’t she have it good? I find myself looking at other beautiful people driving their expensive vehicles and wearing their designer clothes and their fool’s gold bling bling — people who, like me, seem to have it all together. And suddenly I’m wondering, Do they really have it all together? Or are they (like me and most everyone else I know) just fooling themselves?

  nineteen

  I FEEL AS IF SOMETHING IN ME IS DEAD OR MAYBE JUST DYING. THE OLD Hannah seems as far off as Papua New Guinea. Just a memory perhaps. It’s been nearly a fortnight since that fateful party at Bryce’s grandma’s house. But I feel as if I’ve turned into a different person since then — or perhaps simply a nonperson.

  Vanessa is completely fed up with me. “All you do is work and sulk,” she’s said on a regular basis for days now. “Can’t you see that Wyatt’s not worth it?” Or she’ll say, “You should get out and have some fun.” She always ends with, “I know what’ll cheer you up. We should go shopping!”

  Shopping? I keep myself from overreacting as I calmly explain to her that I cannot afford to go shopping. And then she just gets aggravated. But she’s right about one thing: All I do is work. As far as the sulking goes, that’s not really fair. I reckon it looks like sulking to her, but the fact is, I don’t have the energy to do anything else. Maybe that’s why I feel dead. I’ve been putting in ten-hour days for nearly two weeks, and as a result, I’m completely zonked.

  Cynthia had said some people were taking vacations in July, and she needed to hire some temporary help. So I talked her into letting me work some extra hours. “Just for a few weeks?” I pleaded.