The Darlings Are Forever

by Melissa Kantor

  Jane crossed her arms and cocked her head. She liked Mark’s smile. “When you point out Meryl Streep, I’ll look.”

  Mark rubbed his thumb over his lips as he searched the room. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Here’s something for you. Fran Sherman, four o’clock. Fran Sherman is the biggest star at the Academy. Last year she played Adelaide in Guys and Dolls and Nora in A Doll’s House.”

  Jane whipped her head around. A tall pale girl with long reddish hair stood at what would have been four o’clock from where Mark was sitting.

  “Hey, way to be subtle,” Mark chastised her. Jane looked over her shoulder at him and winked, then looked back at the girl, who waved to someone and made her way to the other side of the room. She was very thin, wearing a pair of slightly loose jeans that only made her look thinner. The girl wasn’t exactly beautiful, but there was something about her that made Jane think she would have noticed Fran Sherman even if Mark hadn’t pointed her out. Fran moved as if she were crossing a stage, not the cafeteria. When she waved to someone outside Jane’s line of vision, it was a dramatic wave, one that said hello not only to whomever Fran was waving at but to the room at large.

  Jane watched until Fran sat down. Then she turned back to Mark.

  Mark pointed a finger in Jane’s direction. “Someone’s got her eyes on the prize, doesn’t she?”

  Jane nodded. It was cool how he could see that about her. “Someone does.”

  Mark smiled a slow grin that took its time to spread across his face. “I respect that.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Here’s a little tidbit for you: Fran’s the only student who ever got a role in a main-stage production as a freshman.”

  “What’s a main-stage production?” Jane asked.

  Mark chuckled. “Wow, you don’t know anything, do you? Every year there are three main-stage productions—a fall drama, a spring musical, and a wild card.”

  “A wild card?” Laurie repeated. Jane had completely forgotten she was even there.

  “Dance recital, opera…You guys planning on being drama majors?”

  Laurie nibbled her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to be a drama major,” Jane announced. She totally could not understand people like Laurie. How could you ever get anywhere by being intimidated?

  Mark looked at Jane, a long, penetrating stare. “I think I get you.”

  Jane couldn’t believe it. Lunch on her first day and she’d already met the cutest, coolest guy in the freshman class. She returned his stare with one of her own.

  Oh, you’ve got me, all right.

  THE GOOD NEWS was nobody at Morningside said anything to her about her father’s running for senator even though at the newsstand across the street from her house, Victoria passed a Time magazine with his picture on the cover and the headline, “Could Andrew Harrison Be Health Care’s Only Hope?”

  It wasn’t like she was ashamed of her dad. She was proud of him. Really proud. But it was so weird how now that he was becoming famous, everyone Victoria met acted strangely—both starstruck and familiar. She’d told Jane and Natalya about the girl who’d asked for her autograph at the county fair, but she hadn’t told them the whole story, how the girl had called her Vicky, then immediately apologized. “I’m so sorry, my mom read on your dad’s Web site that you’re going to be a freshman too.” Her long brown hair fell to her butt and she was wearing a pink tube top and tight black pants. “I totally feel like I know you, you know? Like we could be friends. Oh my god, we should be friends. Are you on Facebook?” She clutched the piece of paper Victoria had signed to her chest as if it were something truly precious.

  Victoria didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know this girl. She didn’t feel like they were friends. And her dad’s scary new campaign manager had warned her not to have any activity on her Facebook page until after the election. Anything you do or say can and will be used against your father—even if to you it seems perfectly innocent.

  “Um, I don’t really check Facebook that much,” Victoria stammered, just as Ellen, whose job title was assistant or associate something, swept over and slipped her arm around Victoria’s waist.

  “I’m sorry, we need to go.” Ellen smiled smoothly at the girl. “Thank you so much for your support.”

  The girl, still clutching the paper with Victoria’s name scrawled across it, waved and called, “Bye, Vicky!”

  Victoria realized she had no idea what the girl’s name was. “Bye,” she called simply, and then she and Ellen turned around and were swallowed up by a crowd of Andrew Harrison’s supporters.

  What if that happened at school? What if the kids at Morningside asked for her autograph or called her Vicky or wanted to be friends with her just because her dad was running for Senate?

  And what if, as the campaign manager had warned, anything she did or said was used against her father?

  To Victoria’s relief, no one at Morningside seemed remotely interested in getting her autograph. Actually, her dad was the least of her problems. Victoria’s first- and second-period teachers asked not if she was Andrew Harrison’s daughter, but if she was Emily Harrison’s sister. Both times she said yes, and the teachers got special smiles on their faces. The smiles said, I’m so lucky. I know I have at least one outgoing, articulate, engaged student in my class this year.

  Victoria gave them her own special smile in return. Her smile said, No, you don’t.

  Emily was now a freshman at Princeton. Victoria, having followed her sister all through One Room, knew how bad the first month of class was going to be. When Nana had died, Jane’s mother had taught the girls about the five stages of dealing with death: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

  That trajectory perfectly described how teachers who had once taught Exemplary Emily Harrison responded to having Average Victoria in their class.

  Except for her teachers asking if Victoria was Emily’s sister, everyone else pretty much ignored her. Was it her imagination or did all the other freshmen already have a friend? People sat down strangers, something magical happened that Victoria could neither see nor hear, and they walked out of the class practically holding hands.

  Twice Victoria opened her mouth to talk to people, but then she shut it before saying anything. Every sentence she formulated in her mind sounded too stupid and obvious to utter.

  How’s it going?

  Oh, you’re in this class too?

  So, high school. Wow.

  She had just given up on anyone talking to her when Chloe, a redheaded girl who sat next to her in English, turned toward her after the bell rang and asked, “You want to get lunch at Rick’s, that place across the street?” Victoria was in such a state of shock that her “Okay, sure” sounded less desperately grateful (which she was) and more blasé (which she wasn’t).

  “Great,” said Chloe. She shoved The Catcher in the Rye into her bag and flipped it shut. “See you there.”

  It was as if Victoria had won the lottery. She sat in her chair for a minute, trying to make sense of her amazing luck.

  Her next and last class before lunch was History, where her teacher introduced himself by saying, “This is my first year at Morningside too, so we are all freshmen in a way.”

  Okay, she was definitely experiencing some kind of miracle: someone to eat lunch with and a teacher who hadn’t taught her sister.

  More relaxed than she’d been since lunch at Ga Ga Noodle yesterday, Victoria glanced around the room, checking out the kids as Mr. Mazetti called their names. Michael Bronner, Alissa Confessore, Sean Hamil. From what she’d seen so far, she’d picked a good first-day outfit. In her pale yellow T-shirt and cropped blue pants, she looked like most of the other girls.

  “Victoria Harrison?”

  She gave Mr. Mazetti a smile and raised her hand slightly.

  He continued to look at her, almost like he knew her from somewhere, then checked his class list and ever so slightly straightened his already straight ti
e. “Are you by any chance related to Andrew Harrison?”

  Victoria’s heart sank, and for a second she considered lying.

  Andrew Harrison? Who is that?

  “Um, he’s my dad.”

  A few kids shifted in their seats. Was she imagining it, or was Alissa Confessore glaring in her direction? She imagined Alissa’s parents listening to Rush Limbaugh or one of the other conservatives who hated her father.

  Mr. Mazetti smiled so broadly it was amazing his face didn’t split in two. “Very exciting.”

  “Mmmmm,” she agreed. By then everyone in the class was staring at her. If she’d been Emily Harrison instead of Victoria Harrison, she would have parlayed their curiosity into the presidency of the debate club, a dozen invitations to hang out after school, a boyfriend, the dean’s list. But she wasn’t Emily Harrison. She was Victoria Harrison, and all she was doing was smiling an awkward please-stop-looking-at-me smile.

  Her fingers fluttered up to her necklace, and she slid the pearl up and down the chain, finding comfort in the gentle zzziiiipp it made as it moved.

  Victoria almost ran out of History and across the street to Rick’s. The small space was already crowded with Morningside students. At first she didn’t see Chloe, but then someone called her name, and a second later, she spotted her. “Come!” Chloe mouthed, beckoning.

  “The wraps are awesome,” she said as Victoria reached her side. “I live like, two blocks away, so I’m here pretty much every day. This is Grace, by the way.” A tall girl with braces and black hair in neat braids gave a little wave, and Victoria said hi, then looked up at the wrap menu printed above the counter. There must have been a hundred different options. Chloe ordered the Al Capone, while Grace and Victoria chose the Carol Channing. Victoria recognized the names but couldn’t see how Al Capone equaled roast beef or Carol Channing, Swiss cheese. As the three of them paid for their sandwiches and made their way back to school, talking about what classes they had, Victoria couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have found the only people at Morningside who weren’t obsessed with a member of her family.

  “These tables are so cute,” Grace observed, sitting down at one of the café-style tables sprinkled among the bigger, more traditional cafeteria tables.

  “Totally,” Victoria agreed, unwrapping her sandwich.

  Chloe glanced at the table, shook her head in amazement, then announced, “Can I just say that my dad is going to freak out that we’re friends. My parents are really into your dad’s campaign. They’ll want to come to an election night party. JK!” she added quickly. She smiled at Victoria and took a bite of her wrap, as Victoria felt her chair seem to drop out from under her. Was that why Chloe had wanted to have lunch with her—because Chloe’s parents were Andrew Harrison supporters?

  “Oh,” Victoria managed to say. “That’s…yeah.”

  They were the last words she uttered for the rest of the lunch, but Grace and Chloe didn’t seem to notice her silence any more than they noticed that when the bell had rung, Victoria’s uneaten wrap was still sitting on the table in front of her.

  Standing at her open locker, the metal door shielding her from the rest of the world, Victoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her stomach growled and she was going to be late for her next class. Perfect. Just perfect. She dug around in her bag for her phone to text Natalya and Jane what had happened. Jane would definitely have the perfect comeback for her to use next time that Chloe girl talked to her.

  As her fingers found her phone, she heard the sound she’d come to dread more than any other these past few months.

  It was the snap of a picture being taken.

  She spun around. A few feet down the hallway, a boy she thought she recognized from Biology class had a camera aimed at her.

  Nooo!

  Was this what the rest of her year was going to be like?

  Was this what the rest of her life was going to be like?

  “Wait, what is that?” she cried, taking two giant steps toward him.

  The boy slowly lowered the camera. His shaggy brown hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it out of his eyes. “Um, it’s a camera.” He held it up for her to see. “Are you not familiar with this piece of equipment? Because if you’re worried about my stealing your soul—”

  “I can’t—I mean, you have to…You’re taking a picture of me.”

  The boy paused for a minute, considering her fairly obvious observation. “Okay, I can see how it would be a little creepy to turn around and see some guy snapping your picture. I’ll start over.” He pointed at himself. “I’m Jack, and it’s my job to take as many photos as possible in the next”—he checked his watch—“three hours. The Scoop’s running a photomontage of the first day for the back-to-school issue. And don’t worry. You’re totally photogenic. Which you probably know already.” He spun the viewfinder toward Victoria, pushed a button, and showed her a photo of herself standing at her locker.

  Was he telling the truth? Was this picture really just for The Scoop? She took her eyes off the camera and squinted at Jack. He was wearing a faded blue T-shirt and a pair of cargo pants. With his easy smile and scuffed sneakers, he didn’t exactly look like a political operative. Still. “I want you to delete it. Please,” she added at the last second.

  He wrinkled his forehead at her, confused. “Okay.” He paused. “Um, can I ask why?”

  What could she say?

  Because this girl I thought wanted to be my friend doesn’t.

  Because everyone in my family is more important than I am.

  Because Natalya and Jane are really far away.

  Brilliant, Vicks. While you’re at it, you can bulk order some World’s Biggest Loser shirts.

  When she didn’t answer him, Jack said, “Is this the part where I tell you that it’s a totally good shot and you look awesome so you—”

  “You think I’m being vain?” Victoria stamped her foot in frustration. Jack looked at her like she might possibly be insane, and Victoria had the feeling he wasn’t wrong. “Look, just delete it, okay?”

  He stared at her for a long minute. Finally, he turned the camera toward himself, pushed a button, then turned the viewfinder back to Victoria. The picture of her had been replaced by one of a guy with a bright neon backpack leaping the last two steps of the main stairs.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  “I…” Was she happy? Mostly she just felt stupid. “Yeah, thanks,” she muttered. And then she sped down the hall as quickly as she could.

  QV210024: It only sounds OK bc u weren’t there. Trust me. I acted INSANE. I should have just let him keep the stupid picture.

  RUSKIGIRLNAT: U did the right thing.

  ASTARIZBORNJS: Was he cute?

  QV210024: IDK

  ASTARIZBORNJS: UDK?!?! If UDK, that means he wasn’t.

  QV210024: Was it weird being @ school w/o any guys?

  RUSKIGIRLNAT: I didn’t notice. Do u know what, tho? There were limos lined up outside after school. No joke.

  ASTARIZBORNJS: When IM rich & famous, I’ll buy us 3 limos.

  RUSKIGIRLNAT: I NEED limo. I’ve got a sick blister. I should have worn socks.

  QV210024: I’ve got vocab quiz and history paper. And guy who thinks IM insane. High school sucks.

  ASTARIZBORNJS: U R all wrong. Think. I’ve got friend & crush. Do u know what that means?

  RUSKIGIRLNAT: U R ditching us?

  QV210024: We r even lamer than we thought?

  ASTARIZBORNJS: AS IF, DARLINGS! It means there is hope.

  RIGHT AWAY, Natalya could tell that Biology was different.

  First of all, everyone filed in silently. Second of all, nobody looked happy to be there. And not just because it was the first class of the day.

  “Is Dr. Clover a man or a woman?” Natalya whispered to the girl who had taken the other seat at her lab table.

  The girl had the shortest ponytail Natalya had ever seen. “Neither,” she said.

  Neither? There was no su
ch thing as neither.

  Natalya leaned toward the girl. “Neither?” she repeated. “You mean literally?”

  The girl laughed briefly and whispered, “I guess she’s literally a woman, but—” A noise at the back of the room made both girls turn in that direction.

  A woman who couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall was coming through the glass door. She was wearing a white lab coat and thick, ugly plastic glasses. Her black hair looked greasy, and it hugged her scalp in an unflattering bowl shape.

  She half walked, half marched to a wooden podium at the front of the room. Centering herself behind it, she placed a roll book on top and began speaking, addressing the class list in front of her rather than the actual class. “Welcome to Biology. We meet three times a week, twice for a double lab period. Each class will begin with a quiz on the previous night’s reading. If you are late, you will get a zero on the quiz, which will be factored into your average.” Dr. Clover raised her eyes and looked around the room. “These quizzes, plus weekly lab reports and unit exams, will equal fifty percent of your grade. Another twenty-five percent will be other homework and class participation. Finally, you will write a term paper on a topical scientific issue, and this paper will be the final twenty-five percent of your grade. Are there any questions?”

  Nobody had any questions.

  “Good. Let us begin. Tell me”—Dr. Clover surveyed the room—“what is biology?”

  “Um, torture?” someone whispered, and a few girls on the other side of the room, including Amy, the girl from Natalya’s English class, giggled. Dr. Clover did not respond; she simply stared at the girls.

  Natalya raised her hand.

  “Yes?” Dr. Clover looked at her. “Please state your name.”

  “I’m Natalya.” It was a little intense to announce herself like that, but Natalya focused on the question. “It’s the study of life.”

  Dr. Clover appeared unimpressed. “And what is life?”

  It took a moment for Natalya to realize the question was directed not at the class in general but at her. “Well…” She’d never thought about this exact question before. “Living things are born.”