The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth

by Shelley Adina

  “She wasn’t showing then.” Why would Vanessa risk everything by staying pregnant? Did Emily’s hints from before mean she still planned to get an abortion at this late stage? My blood seemed to thicken with cold at the awful thought.

  “Can we talk about something else?” Gillian asked around a spoonful of miso soup. “This subject is getting all the air time.”

  She was right. We could talk the topic to death, but there was nothing we could do about it. In the end, any decisions were up to Vanessa.

  But still…

  On Tuesday morning during free period, I tucked my Bible in my tote and instead of working on my Austen/Gaskell paper, headed outside. The marine layer that usually kept things cool in the summer was being held offshore by the wind from inland, which meant it was sunny and warm out on the lawn. Behind the music wing, the ground fell away in a slope of grass down to the street, and on a morning like today, you could catch some rays there.

  Sitting at the top of the slope, my legs stretched out, I pulled my Bible out and began to read the poetry of Isaiah to calm my jangled spirit. Vanessa’s life was no deal of mine. She’d made her choices and now she had to live with them, like anyone else. I pushed Emily’s offhand remark about abortion out of my head. Not my choice. Not my business.

  Two chapters later, someone walked up beside me, throwing the words of the prophet into shadow. I shaded my eyes with one hand and looked up.

  “Hi, Lissa.” Ashley Polk dropped her backpack on the grass. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  I’d worked with her on the Benefactors’ Day Ball when I was a junior and she was the only sophomore on the committee. Other than that, our paths didn’t cross much. I closed the Bible and tucked it into my tote.

  “Is that a Bible?”

  I nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you always read it out in public like this?”

  There had been a time when I would have said no. When the subject would not even have come up, because said book would have been stashed in a drawer in my room, never to see the light of public scrutiny or trigger potentially embarrassing questions about my faith.

  After what my friends and I have been through, I’ve learned that faith is something to celebrate and be thankful for, not hide. If somebody can’t handle that, it’s their problem, not mine.

  “Not always,” I told her. “Just this morning. What’s up?”

  She folded herself onto the grass next to me, stretching out her strong soccer-player’s legs. “I suppose you’ve heard about Vanessa Talbot and her little… problem.”

  Was this the conversation starter du jour? Did nobody comment on the weather anymore? “Uh-huh.”

  “The thing is, her problem is making a problem for us. The Cotillion Committee.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, obviously.”

  I could feel stupid all on my own. I didn’t need other people to help me along. “It may be obvious to you, but it’s not to me.” I reached for my tote. “Excuse me. I wasn’t finished with my chapter.”

  “Lissa.” She touched my wrist lightly with her fingers, her big blue eyes pleading. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just really stressed right now. I—we—the committee delegated me to ask for your help.”

  This was the last thing I’d expected. “What?”

  “Vanessa is our consulting senior, right? She’s the one who makes all the announcements, tells us what needs to be done, forms the subcommittees, delegates the P.R., all that stuff.” When I nodded, she went on, “So how is it going to look on the night of the Cotillion when she’s up there on that stage, big as a house?”

  “Um…”

  “The media and all the benefactor bigwigs, not to mention the board of regents and their wives, are all going to be there. What are they going to think if our mistress of ceremonies, the girl who’s supposed to represent the senior class, is standing up there in her maternity dress, pregnant by some Italian gardener?”

  “I think that’s just a rumor,” I managed to say.

  “I don’t care if it is. The point is, she’s going to make us all look stupid and low-rent. And that is not what Spencer is about.”

  “Ashley, Vanessa is definitely not low-rent. And you know John Galliano is probably going to design her maternity clothes himself. She’ll wind up restarting the rage for bubble dresses just when they were going out.”

  It looked as if it hurt her to smile. “Regardless, we’re asking her to step down today. We’re considering a small number of people who could take her place as senior consultant. Are you interested?”

  “Me?!” I fell back on my hands. My elbows felt as if they would barely hold me up.

  “You’ve got the experience,” she said rapidly, as if to head my objections off at the pass. “You worked on the Benefactors’ Day Ball and also Design Your Dreams last year. You’re connected. And everyone knows you’ve got style.”

  That was nice to know. Don’t fall for flattery. Tell her no. “I, uh…”

  “At least think about it,” Ashley begged.

  “What about DeLayne? Or Emily, or someone in Vanessa’s group?”

  “We don’t want a Vanessa clone,” she replied with honesty as brutal as Gillian’s. Only unlike Gillian’s, it wasn’t tempered with kindness. “We want someone different. Someone everybody likes. Someone who’s dependable.”

  “Someone who’s not likely to turn up pregnant.”

  “Exactly. There are only two or three people in the senior class who fit that description. And you’re one of them.”

  Okay, I’d been sort of kidding. Yikes. These people were serious to the point of grimness about their Cotillion. Could I handle that? “When do you need my answer?”

  “By Thursday at the latest, so we can vote on the short list. Our next meeting is on Friday, right after lunch. If you’re the successful candidate, I can brief you on everything we’ve done, introduce you formally, and you can hit the ground running the same day.”

  My mother, charity benefit organizer extraordinaire, would really like this girl. I wondered if Ashley was interested in interning this summer. I also wondered who else was on the short list.

  “I’ll let you know by Wednesday,” I said. “I have to talk—er, think it over first.”

  “We’d really appreciate it, Lissa.” She climbed to her feet and picked up her backpack. “Personally, I’m lobbying for you. I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

  Which job—running the Cotillion Committee, or stepping into Vanessa’s shoes? Because it was an unspoken fact that the most popular girl in the senior class was picked to be the senior consultant.

  So what exactly did that make me?

  WE HAD PRAYER circle that same night, but I didn’t bring up Ashley’s request there. I didn’t want to trifle with the Lord’s attention—and there were bigger problems to pray over. A couple of people lifted up Gillian and her decision about colleges. She prayed for her brother, the gymnast, who was getting ready for the Olympics. And me?

  I thought I was going to pray for Gillian, too. But it’s funny how the heart can take over when the brain is looking in the other direction.

  “Father, this is probably going to surprise You, but I want to lift up Vanessa Talbot to You tonight. It’s none of my business, but all of us are Your business. If she’s thinking about, um, ending her pregnancy, I hope You’ll help her change her mind and point out whatever path is in Your will for her. Even if she doesn’t know it. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  People murmured “amen” and a little silence fell, as if they were digesting what I’d said. Finally, Shani flipped open her laptop and started Danyel’s weekly video. I concentrated on his musical voice, lifting us all up as if he were right there with us, and tried to relax.

  Afterward, Jeremy and Brett said they had other stuff to do and headed off. Shani and Gillian waited until we were out on the street, walking down to Starbucks. “So what’s with the prayer, girlfriend?” Shani wanted to k
now. “I never expected to hear that name coming out of our circle, that’s for sure.”

  “Why not? She can pray for whomever she wants,” Carly said. “Ease up.”

  “I never said she couldn’t,” Shani retorted. “I just want to know what brought it on, is all.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It just—came out.”

  “I agree with Carly that a person should pray for someone if they’re led to. Especially when it’s over something as huge as an abortion. You can bet I’ll be praying about that. But—” Gillian paused. “You know how Vanessa is. She’s not the most trustworthy person on the planet, and I’d hate to see you get pulled into her orbit and have her find some way to hurt you.”

  I never expected a simple prayer to make my girls react like this. “I’m sure she has other things to think about.” I shrugged. “I brought it to God. My work is done.”

  “Vanessa wouldn’t thank you for it,” Shani said quietly.

  “There’s another thing she won’t thank me for.” We pushed open the door and while we stood in line, I filled them in on the Cotillion Committee’s leadership problems.

  Carly took her mocha and led the way to a table in the corner. “Yeah, they asked me, too.” She shook her head. “Even though my only qualification is who I’m dating. I think you should do it,” she said to me. “It seems like a no-brainer.”

  “What about you?”

  Carly shook her head. “Organizing events isn’t my thing. Going to them is way more fun.”

  “You guys know what it means, right? Vanessa will never forgive me.” I took a sip of my honey latte.

  “Why should that bother you?” Gillian wanted to know. “She hasn’t forgiven you yet just for being alive.”

  True enough. “I guess I’m still hearing them laugh at her in the dining room today. It’s so ugly.”

  “We weren’t laughing,” Shani pointed out.

  “I know. But I’m not sure about jumping on the bandwagon and adding more ugly to it, you know?”

  “How is being the senior consultant adding to it?” Carly asked. “Someone has to do it. You’re good at that kind of thing. It may as well be you.”

  “I am?”

  “Ashley told you herself that she noticed what you did for those other events.”

  Could a person build a career on a knack for event planning? Maybe she could. At least it was something to put on the plus side of my very short list of talents. I might not be a fashion designer or a piano prodigy, but I could pull together a few hundred people and entertain them.

  “Vanessa’s not going to take it out on you,” Carly said. “She’s got bigger things to think about. No pun intended.”

  But in that Carly proved to be wrong. On Wednesday, I left core class and headed upstairs to second period, still trying to figure out whether or not I should text Ashley and tell her yes. Vanessa came out of the language lab and practically hip-checked me into a row of lockers.

  “Well, if it isn’t the new senior consultant.” Her dark eyes were smudged with shadow. Hadn’t she slept? Or had she just been a little heavy-handed with the color palette this morning? “You back-stabbing hag.”

  Hold your ground. You’ve got nowhere to go but backward. “The committee hasn’t voted. And I haven’t decided if I even want to do it.”

  “Luckily for you, it doesn’t take a brain to make that decision.”

  My cheeks flushed hot, then paled. “I obviously take it more seriously than you do. And you don’t need to get personal about it.”

  “Oh, it’s personal.” She leaned in, eyes snapping, while I tried to keep my spine straight and not give her an inch. “Those stupid cows don’t know a good leader when they have one. But I guess they’ll find out, won’t they?”

  Ten different nasty cracks hovered on the tip of my tongue and I hung onto my self-control with both hands. I would not become like her. Turning into the blond version of Vanessa Talbot was not the summit of my ambition for the school year.

  But deep inside, I knew it was possible. I could crush her with one nasty line. I could face down DeLayne Geary, and soon that group would be giving up their chairs for me at the table in the window. I could be the one deciding who was cool and who was outcast. I could have my pick of dates for the Cotillion.

  Oh, yeah. With my longtime nemesis out of the way, I could have everything I once thought I’d wanted. Now there was a frightening thought: Anakin Skywalker turning into Darth Vader, right here at Spencer Academy.

  “I have nothing to do with the committee’s decision, Vanessa.”

  “Like I’m going to believe that. I heard you were talking to Ashley yesterday.”

  “She asked me if I was interested, that’s all. They’re asking a bunch of people.”

  “Witch. I know what you want.”

  “Really?” I almost laughed. “How can you? I haven’t even figured that out yet.”

  “Freaking Bible-thumper. They’ll see what a Judas you are.”

  Okay, turning the other cheek has its limits. “Vanessa. For the last time, I didn’t ask for the job. They offered. If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have—” I stopped and glanced at her stomach.

  Her hand twitched, as if she’d barely restrained herself from slapping me. And then she turned on her heel and stalked away down the corridor, leaving me feeling sick and shaken as I made my way to the history classroom.

  Vanessa 0. Lissa 0.

  To: shanna@spenceracad.edu

  From: hrhr@gulftel.yz

  Date: May 12, 2010

  Re: Re: Question

  My friend,

  It’s fortunate there is an understanding between us. Had my father seen your e-mail, I am sure he would have provoked an Incident. As it is, I deleted it from my mail and the palace server before the Secret Service found it. You see, my tutoring in computer science at Stanford has its uses after all.:)

  The answer to your question is no. My relationship with Vanessa, such as it was, did not progress to the point you fear. I understand my duty, and it does not include foolish behavior. Not that I didn’t want to, you understand. But if I were going to take such a step, it would be with someone willing to accept the Star of the Desert and all that it means.

  I still regret that you did not, but on the other hand, I am rewarded with a friend I can count on no matter the circumstances.

  Be at peace, Shani. I hope you are well. Please delete this when you have read it.

  Rashid

  Chapter 7

  POPULARITY IS LIKE a storm front. A bunch of seemingly unrelated factors like pressure and movement and small changes all come together, and before you know it, the atmosphere is completely different. You either hide from it, fight it, or go with it.

  That week, the social weather vane at Spencer swung in one direction after another, looking for somewhere to point. Carly, who had rock-solid status as the girlfriend of our school’s most popular guy, and who, after the Design Your Dreams extravaganza last year, had outshone most of the girls on talent alone, chose to hide. In other words, she told the Cotillion Committee no, thanks. She simply didn’t care about being popular. What mattered to her were her family, her friends, and Brett, in pretty much that order.

  DeLayne Geary fought for it. But you know how you can sense desperation in a girl who really wants a boyfriend? It’s in the intensity of her stare, the hilarity of her laugh, and the way she moves. DeLayne was like that—just a little too much of everything. In the end, it netted her zip.

  And then there was me. I went to class, did my assignments, and hung out with my friends, avoiding run-ins with Vanessa whenever necessary. Pretty much what I’d been doing for two years, right? But between the time I told the Cotillion Committee I was interested and Thursday at lights-out, when Ashley texted me to say they’d voted for me unanimously, even I could see which way the wind blew.

  It was behind my back, pushing me gently but inexorably into the limelight.

  “Congratulations.” Gill
ian gave me a brief, absentminded hug and went to bed. I mean, I know stuff like this doesn’t really register on her personal Richter scale, but she could have been a little happier about it.

  Carly’s hug the next morning made up for it, though. She squeezed me with delight and practically tap-danced. “I knew they’d vote you in,” she said. “You’re the only person who could do it.”

  “Do you know who the others were?”

  “DeLayne and Christine.”

  “Oh.” Ashley had told me they weren’t considering DeLayne. Somehow I was really glad I hadn’t lost to her.

  “I’m glad you beat out DeLayne,” Shani told me. Was the girl psychic or what? “She’d have been unbearable. Your committee needs to be led, not bossed around.”

  My committee. I liked the sound of that.

  Ashley had asked me to meet her in the dining room for breakfast and a briefing before the committee meeting at two. Even though we were a little early, Emily still beat us to the window table, where she sat sipping a cappuccino.

  She waved me into the middle chair. “I saved you a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Shani and Carly took the end seats while I hung my tote over the back of the chair where Vanessa used to sit. “This feels weird. DeLayne is going to have kittens.”

  “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. You don’t want to show fear, or DeLayne will stage a coup with you like she did with Vanessa.”

  “Emily, I don’t think—”

  “Hi, Lissa.” A group of seniors from my Austen class waved on their way to the juice bar. Derrik Vaughan, who was the soccer team’s star goalie and who had come once with Brett to prayer circle, caught my eye and smiled from across the room. Christine Powell put her stuff down one table away and paused next to ours. “Hi, Lissa. Congratulations on your nomination. Can I get you something from the juice bar while I’m up?”

  “No. Um, thanks.” That was generous of her. “I’ll wait.”

  “Just let me know.”

  “Okay, now I’m really feeling weird,” I murmured.