EricDalton: Sounds like I’ll have to have a word with him. That kid is trouble.
JadeCarmichael: You’re telling me.
EricDalton: So Tuesday then? I’m looking forward to it.
JadeCarmichael: Of course you are.
18
The girls walked in a tight pack in the cool evening, bumping into each other as their delicate heels picked their way down the cobbled sidewalks of Rhinecliff. Crystal was about to slow down a bit and wait for Jade to come up beside her and sling her arm through hers, but just then her tiny satin clutch began to vibrate. She thought for a brief, wonderful second that maybe it was Zane calling, but then she recognized the number as Amir’s. He was probably calling to check on her, make sure she wasn’t too drunk, and while she didn’t exactly want to hear it, she was drunk enough to crave a boy’s voice.
“What’s up, Amir?” Her tongue felt slightly heavy in her mouth.
“Nothing.” Amir had a surprisingly deep phone voice, making him sound much older and more mysterious than he really was. “Just thought you might want to get coffee or something.”
“We’re on our way back from dinner. I don’t know if I’m in the mood for coffee.” Crystal glanced over at Jade and noticed that she was texting someone. Turning her head slightly, she could see that Benny and Alison were too. What the fuck? Everyone else’s lives suddenly seemed so much more interesting and love-filled than hers. In a wave of self-pity, she wondered if hanging out with Amir might boost her completely smashed ego. “Well, maybe.”
“I’m just leaving Berk.” Berkman-Meier was the music center, an enormous complex of concrete slab buildings, seventies style, that housed a large lecture hall where Bridgeport’s various music groups performed, music classrooms, and dozens of small soundproof rooms for individual practice. Amir’s mother had been first violinist for the New York Philharmonic, and he played to be close to her. She’d died when he was only four, and it was the first thing she’d taught him to do, even before reading. It was sexy that Amir was so good at something without even really trying—but Crystal wished he were, like, a prodigy at the bass or an instrument with a little more rock-star status. “Want me to meet you at the front gate?”
Amir was waiting for her at the gate when the pack of girls approached. Jade noticed him first and shot Crystal a pointed look. “Looks like your boyfriend is waiting for you.”
“I can’t help it if I have admirers.” Crystal noticed Bree looking away uncomfortably. It pissed her off to have a younger girl pitying her, especially one who had become so friendly with Zane. At least Bree had assured them that nothing was going on there. Crystal was humiliated enough at being dumped, but being dumped because of someone else was ten times worse.
Naomi winked at Crystal over her shoulder as the rest of them continued on toward campus, shooting Amir knowing looks and giggling as they passed.
“What was that all about?” Amir demanded. He was wearing a neatly ironed pair of jeans and a Brooklyn sweatshirt, even though he was from Greenwich. Crystal was grateful he wasn’t carrying his violin.
“They’re just being stupid,” Crystal replied a little crankily, feeling her buzz drain away. Then she noticed him staring at her. No matter how irritated she could get with Amir, she had to admit it felt nice to have someone look at her like that, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he faltered, with a tender smile.
“Don’t give me that fake sympathy. I know you’re thrilled Zane dumped me.” Crystal pulled her almost-empty pack of cigarettes—she’d been smoking like a fiend lately—from the pocket of her True Religion jean jacket that used to fit her perfectly but now felt loose and annoying.
Amir looked hurt. “I’m not sorry you’re not with him anymore—he doesn’t deserve to be with you. But I’m sorry you’re feeling bad.”
Crystal sighed and lit her cigarette. Amir was just so nice. Maybe that was the problem. Even after she broke up with him, he was sweet to her, letting her know he’d always be there for her and that he’d always love her. But while that seemed very noble of him, it didn’t make him any more appealing. He just made it too easy. “I don’t know. I’m probably getting what I deserve, right?”
“Crystal, what you deserve is to be treated like the goddess you are.” Amir shook his head. “Don’t let a slimebag like Zane bring you down.” He took in her thin, drawn face and felt scared for a moment, realizing how skinny and sad she seemed. “You’re just so far above him, it’s crazy.”
Crystal sighed again. That was an easy thing to say to someone who’d just had their heart ripped out of their chest cavity and thrown onto the cold tile floor—he didn’t deserve you, you’re way too good for him, you can do so much better. Well, so what if Zane didn’t deserve her—it didn’t stop her from wanting him.
But then there was Amir in his polo shirt with the Ralph Lauren horse emblem on the chest, his brown Calvin Klein wing tips shuffling nervously in the grass. At least she had the power to make one guy nervous in her presence.
“Zane could barely stand to look at me when he dumped me—it was like I was so repulsive, he wanted to erase every inch of me from his memory.” Crystal stared at the ground and ran her hands up and down her jacketed arms pitifully.
“That’s so ridiculous! You are so fucking beautiful!” Amir protested immediately, as she knew he would. Even if their whole interaction was totally predictable, Crystal already felt better. After all, it wasn’t like it was Jade or Naomi trying to cheer her up—Amir was a guy. Him thinking she was beautiful meant more. “I mean, God. It hurts me to even look at you sometimes.”
“Why?”
Amir shrugged. “Because I can’t have you.” He stared at her, willing her to contradict him, but Crystal stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how badly she wished it were Zane standing here in the dark, cold evening, telling her these things.
But it wasn’t Zane. It was Amir, a guy Zane disliked, thinking him too sentimental and conservative and clearly repressed. A guy it would piss off Zane to know she was starting up with again—and around Bridgeport, word traveled fast.
Impulsively, Crystal stepped toward Amir and rested her thin hand on his bare arm. It shook a little when she touched it. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” she asked coyly.
“You know I mean it,” he told her softly.
And so she leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his before he could say anything to change her mind. His mouth was soft and familiar and tasted like cinnamon gum, something new. When she felt him start to pull away, she pressed her body against his, hoping someone would walk by.
“Thank you,” she tried to murmur sexily as she pulled away. “For being so sweet. You made my night.” It was something a girl in a movie would have said.
Amir touched her hair, stroking it gently like he used to. “You made my year.” It made Crystal sad suddenly because she had said her line without really meaning it the way Amir had.
“Walk me back?” she asked, wanting to get out of there, wanting to check her email in case Zane had written, and wanting to curl up in her most favorite silk pajamas when she found out he hadn’t and cry herself to sleep.
EmilyJenkins: Bitches didn’t let me in their club, but I saw Crystal sucking face with your roomie.
MauriceJohnson: Amir??
EmilyJenkins: The one and only.
MauriceJohnson: U think it’s to make Zane jealous?
EmilyJenkins: Duh.
MauriceJohnson: Yo, Crystal’s kissing Amir outside.
ZaneTaylor: Um OK.
MauriceJohnson: U don’t care? Emily thinks it’s to make you jealous. R u?
ZaneTaylor: Nah.
MauriceJohnson: Dude, gimme sumthin!
ZaneTaylor: Fuck off, Maurice.
To: Undisclosed Secret Society Recipients
From: [email protected]
Date: S
unday, September 15, 11:43 a.m.
Subject: Boston
Dear Superfriends,
That’s right, you heard me. Time to look inside your soul and find your own superhero: maybe that’s Wonder Woman, or maybe, if you’re me, that’s Hugh Hefner.
You have less than a week to prepare. Details to follow.
Fondling-ly yours,
MJ
19
Bree had Googled horseback riding clothes, so she felt relatively prepared showing up at the stables on Sunday afternoon for her riding date with Zane. The Web sites said straight-leg jeans were the best if you didn’t have jodhpurs, which Bree definitely didn’t, so she wore a pair of straight-leg Diesel jeans she’d had since seventh grade, when she’d stopped growing. Well, growing taller—her chest had obviously continued to bloom. Her long hair fell into two braids down her back, which she hoped gave her an air of boho chic and not an air of insane-Heidi chick.
Even though it was clear that Crystal was still reeling from her breakup with Zane, Bree couldn’t stop thinking about him. When Emma Bovary falls in love with Rodolphe, Bree gave him Zane’s face, and when she later falls uncontrollably in love with Léon, Bree imagined he was as irresistible as Zane. She just hoped she wouldn’t bring disaster upon herself like poor silly Emma.
When she got to the stables, she saw Zane leading two horses out in the paddock, one black, one a deep chestnut. She watched for a minute, noticing how Zane’s head was bent toward them as he patted them both on their necks, talking to them. His hands ran across the saddles and stirrups.
“Which one is Credo?” Bree asked when Zane finally noticed her approaching.
He stroked the black one’s sleek mane. “This is my sweetheart. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Bree crept slowly toward Zane and his horse, not wanting to spook her. Credo was enormous. “Credo’s a girl? She’s so huge.”
Zane laughed. “She’s really not. I’m going to ride Dean Marymount’s mare, Diana, because she’s a lot bigger than Credo. And I told Credo to be gentle with you.”
“Good,” Bree said, hesitantly touching the horse on her neck where Zane had been stroking her. Her coat was surprisingly soft and glossy. Credo shifted a little at Bree’s touch and turned her head to look at her. The quick movement startled Bree, but she didn’t flinch and instead kept petting the giant animal as she admired her enormous, brown-liquid eyes.
“Let her smell your hand,” Zane said over her shoulder. “It will help her get to know you faster.”
“Like this?” Bree held her palm out awkwardly in front of Credo’s nose. With anyone but Zane, she would have been terrified that the horse would bite her hand off, but she trusted him. Credo made a snuffling noise with her nostrils and nuzzled her soft, damp nose against Bree’s hand. Bree giggled. “She looks so much happier than those poor horses in the city that have to pull carriages around Central Park for tourists all day.”
“God, you’re a city girl,” Zane said affectionately. He held out a black velvet riding helmet. “Here,” he said. “See if this fits.”
“I have to wear a helmet? Does that mean there’s a chance she’s going to throw me off or something?” She held it awkwardly in her hands, suddenly scared again, visualizing her body flying through the air and landing in a crunch of bones against the hard, packed dirt.
“Nah, she likes you.”
“How can you tell?”
Zane scratched his head. “Well, I can’t tell for sure.” He shrugged. “But she likes girls who are nice to me.” He raised his eyebrows at her, causing her to forget all about being afraid of Credo. “So, you’d better be nice to me.”
Right, she thought. Like there was any danger of not being nice.
Zane took the helmet from Bree’s hands and placed it on her head gently, then flattened his hand on top of it and rocked it back and forth and from side to side. Bree could feel her scalp moving with it. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure it fits.” He took his hand off her head and bent his knees so that his eyes were level with hers. He examined how the helmet fit around her head, his face just inches from hers, so she could practically count his eyelashes if she wanted to. His eyes finally met hers. “You look cute,” he said softly.
“How come you’re not wearing a helmet?”
“Because I’m not worried about me,” he said sweetly, though Bree still thought it was unfair. She’d pictured her hair flying out behind her in the wind, but maybe next time. “Are you ready to get on?”
“Already?” she yelped, terrified.
“You want to stand here talking all day?”
Bree looked up at him. “Sort of.”
“Come on. It’s fun, and you’ll be fine. Credo knows what she’s doing, and she’s not going to break into a gallop or anything.” Zane gave her a few more basic instructions and encouragements, but she could tell he was one of the learn-by-doing sort of teachers, so Bree forced herself to take deep breaths and just get on. He held his hands together to give her a leg up, and she swung her leg over Credo’s back awkwardly, almost kicking Zane in the head with her boot. She wriggled in the sleek leather saddle, getting her bearings. “Are you comfortable?” Zane asked, adjusting the stirrups and placing the reins in her hands.
“I feel like I’m riding an elephant,” she said with a giddy laugh. Being on a horse made her feel so…tall!
Zane hopped onto Marymount’s horse. “You ready to start moving now?”
Deep breaths, deep breaths. “Yes,” Bree squeaked.
“Then just give Credo a little squeeze with your calves. And just sort of let your hips follow her movements. It’ll fall into place.” Zane started off on Diana, and Bree pressed her lower legs gently against Credo’s sides. She gasped when Credo started to move.
“Am I trotting?” she asked eagerly.
“Not yet.” Zane laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”
Their eyes met across the grass, and he kicked his horse into a trot, pulling away from her quickly. “Come on!” he cried, glancing back over his shoulder, his curls blowing in the light breeze.
“I’ll be extra nice to Zane if you’re nice to me,” she whispered to Credo before squeezing her legs and feeling the horse lurch forward beneath her. “Whoa,” she gasped.
An hour later they were back at the stable, Bree’s legs aching with effort. She couldn’t believe how much fun it was, riding the enormous, scary-sweet Credo through the fields, even if Bree wouldn’t go faster than a trot, no matter how much Zane encouraged her. The sky was cloudy when they started out, but it quickly darkened, and fat raindrops had begun to fall from the menacing gray clouds. They rode into the stable, which was clean and dark and smelled like Zane, only much more concentrated.
Zane slid off his horse and led her into a stall before returning to Bree. “Did you like it?” he asked, though he knew the answer from the wild, breathless smile on her face.
“I see what the big deal is now.” She unhooked her boot from the stirrup, and dismounted a little more gracefully than she’d mounted. “That was so much fun.” Her legs were shaking a little from the strain, and as she pulled off her helmet, she realized her hair felt sweaty and must be plastered to her head, but she didn’t care.
“Makes you realize you’re alive, doesn’t it?” Zane remarked as he pulled off Credo’s saddle and hung it on a giant metal hook. He led Credo back into her stall, a huge, straw-filled enclosure.
“It makes me realize other things too,” she responded, feeling bold. She felt her blood racing through her veins, her adrenaline at an all-time high. On Credo, she felt like she could race across the world, and now, standing on her own two legs again, she felt like she could do whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was to kiss Zane.
“Like what?” He cocked his eyebrows, staring at her. Bree didn’t answer. He was moving closer, ever so slowly. She wanted to capture each individual moment leading up to this. She took in the
smells of the stable. The noise of Credo’s breathing. The beginnings of rain trammeling against the metal roof. The crunch of straw beneath her boots. The way her legs were shaking. The way Zane touched her on the chin and tilted it upward. And the way he brought his lips toward hers and kissed her, at which moment she stopped thinking about anything at all besides the feeling of kissing the boy she never thought she would ever kiss.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: Sunday, September 15, 6:58 p.m.
Subject: Country living
Dad,
You’re not going to believe this, but I went horseback riding today. As in, I rode a horse—an enormous, ten-ton creature with really big teeth. And it wasn’t even scary! Well, it was a little scary, but I had an expert helping me along. A very cute expert. But I won’t say anything else about that now…I don’t want to jinx anything.
I’m having fun here—got my first A+, had an assist in the last field hockey game, and have been meeting tons of cool people. It’s a little weird not having uniforms to wear to class every day. (It makes it a little harder to get ready in the morning!) I still feel a little like a new girl, trying to figure out all the unspoken rules. But I’m getting the hang of it.
How’s the apartment without me and Mekhi? Is Yasmine around enough to keep you company? Tell her if she wants to paint it orange and fill my closet with the entire Barneys Co-op, that’s fine.
I miss you like crazy. Tell Mekhi he could send his little sister an email once in a while—who knows, maybe she even misses him!
Your favorite daughter,
Bree
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: Monday, September 16, 9:45 a.m.
Subject: Meeting
Dear Mr. Taylor,
Bridgeport Academy #2 Page 12
