by Ivy Smoak
I glanced back at the main street. There were women in floor-length gowns and men in tuxes walking toward the hotel. I was wearing holey sneakers and a black apron and I was about to enter through a door that looked like it was from a horror movie. I was used to being poor. That wasn’t new to me. But I’d never been surrounded by people so ridiculously wealthy. I’d never felt so out of place in my life. This city. These people.
“I promise it’s not that bad,” Kennedy said when she caught me staring. “They treat us like we’re invisible. All they see is the delectable appetizers we’re dishing out.”
Invisible. We were definitely the untouchable ones. But with Kennedy by my side, I didn’t even mind. I’d rather be untouchable with someone like her than clad in a fancy gown with horrible people like Isabella. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing her again until Monday.
“And the best part is that there’s usually leftovers that they divvy up at the end. Your taste buds are about to explode. And technically it’s not takeout. So it’s Brooklyn approved.”
Fancy food didn’t necessarily correspond with healthy food. I could imagine butter slathered on everything so it would taste better. My chest hurt just thinking about it. Or maybe it hurt because I wanted to go home. Not back to the tiny apartment with my uncle. Home home. The home I no longer had.
Chapter 3
Friday
Back home I’d worked every day at a diner down the street from my house. It was small and quaint and hadn’t prepared me at all for this. I gripped the tray tighter in my hands, staring at the way the other waitstaff held the trays expertly with one hand. Surely they couldn’t balance all that with…nope they were doing it. Perfectly.
I moved my hand to the base of the tray and held it up, trying to emulate the waitstaff that were actually qualified for this job. The tray I was attempting to balance was piled high with wild mushroom tarts. It was heavy and awkward, but at least I didn’t have to carry champagne around like a magician. There was a 100 percent chance that I would have spilled the flutes on the floor. Or all over someone’s fancy gown.
“Ready for the time of your life?” Kennedy asked with a grin. “Just kidding, it’s the worst. Let’s do the damn thing.” She pushed through the double doors out of the kitchen and into the ballroom, looking every bit the part of the waitstaff supreme.
I quickly followed so that I wouldn’t have to try to open the door. “Wild mushroom tart?” I asked everyone I passed. I kept my head down, trying to remain the invisible human I’d become. It was easy. I thrived at invisibility.
After several minutes, my biceps were already aching from the tray. The only reprieve was that my tray got lighter as I got rid of more tarts. I opened my mouth to say “wild mushroom tart” for what felt like the hundredth time, but swallowed down my words. Because I was staring at the back of Matthew Caldwell in a fitted tux that clung to his muscles like it was made for his body. He didn’t have to turn around for me to know it was him. The golden hair. The broad shoulders. It didn’t hurt that his older brother, Mason, and the Hunter brothers were standing next to him, also ignoring me and my stinky tarts, thank God. Besides, I’d had time to study the back of his head in our entrepreneurial studies class. I’d memorized it better than any of the lessons.
My stomach clenched when he laughed. All the Untouchables were handsome. But there was something about Matthew that made my eyes always gravitate to him. He was why I found myself staring at their group at lunch. And in the hall. And after school. A bad habit that was already getting me in trouble with girls like Isabella. Which was ridiculous. It’s not like any of them were looking back at me. Even when I was offering them free little tarts. I’d never be a threat. Just an invisible observer of perfection.
Matthew started to turn his head.
Shit. I practically ran in the opposite direction and almost smacked my tray into Kennedy’s face.
“Jesus, what are you doing, Brooklyn? You almost bulldozed me and my spanakopita triangles.”
I somehow mustered the balance to pull her and my tray away from the boys I was avoiding. “The Untouchables are here,” I whisper screamed.
The expression on her face morphed from annoyed to mortified. “Oh God, really? Well, that’s awkward.” She peered over my shoulder and sighed. “At least Isabella and her posse aren’t…” her voice trailed off. “No, they’re here too.”
I turned around to see that Isabella had appeared. She was flirting shamelessly with James, the older of the Hunter brothers. In school he always looked handsome in the required uniform blazer and tie. But when he was in a tux? I swallowed hard. What teenager owned a tux, let alone wore one so well? Matthew, that’s who.
I was about to turn my attention back to the Untouchable that I could never not stare at when James looked up from the champagne flute in his hand. A champagne flute that I was vaguely aware he was too young to hold. When he caught my gaze, I felt locked in place. Not because he was James Hunter. Or because he was drinking underage and I’d caught him red-handed. Or because he smiled. At me. But because I felt this overwhelming sadness roll off of him and onto me. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was as fake as the one I forced onto my face at school.
It was a crime for someone so beautiful to be so sad. Maybe it was because his rumored girlfriend, Rachel, wasn’t at the party with him? Or that Isabella was unabashedly marking her territory on him when he wasn’t single? He downed the rest of the champagne and grabbed another glass. Or maybe I wasn’t the only one standing in this ballroom feeling lost. And depressed. And barely holding on.
James downed another glass and I turned away. The last thing I ever thought was that the Untouchables were relatable. They were the gods of Empire High. They weren’t like me. Right? “What do we do?” I asked.
Kennedy shrugged. “We keep being invisible. It’s not like they’ll deign to speak to us here when they don’t at school. Besides, they probably don’t even recognize us.”
She was right. We were just as invisible in the halls of our high school. And James’ smile hadn’t been one of recognition, just politeness. Very sad politeness. There was just one problem. “Well…Isabella spoke to us today.”
“Yeah, just to be a bitch. But she wouldn’t do that here in front of all these people.”
“Are you sure about that?” Because I certainly wasn’t. I didn’t think Isabella’s bitchiness was a switch she could just turn on and off. It was just her. I looked down at my Keds with the hole in the side. The butterflies I felt when I had seen Matthew died and rolled over in my stomach.
“Positive. That would be admitting that she even knows us. Which is probably mortifying for her.” She must have seen the look on my face, because she added, “offload the rest of those tarts on me and take a breather in the back. I’ll join you in a sec.”
I slid my tarts onto her tray and made a beeline for the kitchen. My reaction to seeing them was ridiculous. Everything Kennedy said made sense. Regardless, I was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. I leaned against a wall in the kitchen and tried to force myself to stop freaking out.
“Spill it,” Kennedy said.
I jumped. How did she always sneak up on me like that? I was starting to think she was a ninja. “Spill what?” I was trying very hard not to spill anything tonight.
“What is it with you and the Untouchables? Please don’t tell me you want to be one of them. You’re way too nice.”
“You don’t know whether they're nice or not.”
She raised both her eyebrows. “I’ve been walking around Empire High for a year and they’ve never said one word to me.”
“Well, have you said one word to them?”
She laughed. “Touché. But seriously, what gives?”
I leaned my head back on the wall. How could I tell her that I walked around completely numb? That it only went away when seeing Matthew made my stomach erupt with butterflies? That the feeling was the only thing that was keeping me afloat? I knew how it
sounded. Pathetic. “I’m fine with being an outsider if I have you,” I said. “But what’s the harm in staring at them? They’re so beautiful.”
“Nothing’s wrong with staring at perfection. But getting caught up in it? Wanting it? Guys like that will never end up with girls like us, Brooklyn. That’s not how things work.”
“James is dating Rachel. You said she goes to a public school.”
“Yeah…he’s dating her now. But everyone in that room out there knows that he’s going to marry Isabella.”
I hadn’t known that. And I didn’t believe it for a second. But then I pictured James’ sad smile. Life didn’t always turn out the way you wanted it to. I knew that better than anyone.
“Don’t tell me you were hoping James would marry you?” Kennedy said with a laugh.
“No.” I could never be with someone who was as sad as me. It’s not like I could save him when I needed saving myself. We’d just end up drowning together.
“Oh God. You want to marry one of the other ones, don’t you?”
“I never said that.” I pushed off the wall. Marriage? Now that was ridiculous. My life wasn’t a fairytale. I didn’t grow up dreaming of my wedding. I grew up thinking I had to fend for myself. That men like my father lurked around every corner. I couldn’t even say that Matthew was nothing like my father, because I’d never met either of them.
I started filling up my tray with more tarts. Kennedy followed me back out in the ballroom, keeping close to me as we flitted through the guests.
“Is it Mason then?” she asked. “I wouldn’t mind waking up to that perfect specimen every day either.”
I laughed. “I’m not dreaming about marrying any of them, trust me.” But I glanced over at Mason. The Caldwells’ distinguishing feature was their broad shoulders, which made them the perfect Empire High football stars that they were. High school royalty with championship game wins under their thousand dollar belts. Not that they needed the wins to be the Untouchables. Mason, the older brother, had the female student body practically begging for one night with him. Even though I hadn’t been at school long, I could see that before Kennedy had told me. He was promiscuous. Devastatingly handsome. And horribly sad. After seeing James’ smile, it was like the façade around the Untouchables had cracked. They were more like me than I thought possible. And I could see the sadness in Mason’s eyes just like I’d seen it in James’. Did people see my sadness when they looked at me too?
Old wealth probably carried responsibilities I could never imagine. Is that why the two eldest brothers looked tired? Because they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders? That was something I could relate to. But mine wasn’t the same burden. The weight I carried had nothing to do with familial obligations. For years mine had been time. Two weeks ago, I’d run out of it. And now? My burden felt like it was living. Living without the only person that would ever love me.
Kennedy did a very fancy turn considering the fact that she was balancing a tray, and found her way next to me again. “Is it Robert? If he put a ring on your finger, he’d make it his mission for you to laugh every day. It’s him, right? More laughter is exactly what you need. And he’s so dreamy.”
“I laugh enough.” I didn’t. I glanced at Robert out of the corner of my eye. The Hunters’ distinguishing feature was their dark eyes. Robert, the younger brother, was a total goofball. He was always smiling and cracking jokes, never aimed at me…which I was eternally grateful for. His dark eyes shimmered with life. But now that I was finding chinks in all their armor, I had a feeling that Robert was hiding behind his sense of humor. I could understand that. I was hiding in plain sight.
Robert and more laughter definitely wasn’t what I needed. No, what I needed was for my mom not to be six feet under and for my new bestie to drop this subject.
But I couldn’t help it that my eyes gravitated to Matthew Caldwell. Matt. His smile did reach his eyes. It was genuine and warm, even if it was never directed at me. And he walked in a way that made me think he didn’t carry a single burden. He was more reserved than Rob. More mysterious. I couldn’t read him at all. But he just seemed so…carefree.
“Bingo.”
I looked over at Kennedy. Her tray was empty and her hand was on her hip. “You’re in love with Matthew.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“Don’t even with me, Brooklyn. Besides, I already knew it. You drool whenever you see him in school.”
“I don’t drool.”
“Got you.” She pointed her index finger at me. “You basically just admitted it.”
I laughed. “I didn’t admit anything.”
The lights started to dim and the guests made their way to their tables.
Kennedy grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the kitchen. “We have to help with dinner, but don’t think for a second that we’re dropping this. I need all the deets.”
To me it was officially dropped. I tried to focus on what color name card went with what entrée. Table three was my responsibility. Lucky number three. All I had to do was get through serving dinner and dessert and I could go home.
I looked at the image of the tables on the seating chart and made my way out of the kitchen. Lucky number three my ass. James and Robert were at the table I was supposed to be serving. Along with Isabella and a few adult couples, probably their parents. I kept my head down as I pushed the cart over to their table.
A blue name card meant fish. Red - steak. Green - vegetarian. I placed a vegetarian entrée down in front of Isabella.
“Oh, darling.” She laughed. “Well isn’t this tragic.”
I forced myself to look at her. She looked blissfully happy despite her comment. She glanced down at my shoes and I could feel my face turning red.
“You’re the new kid, right?” Robert asked.
Oh God. They had noticed me at school. They’d probably seen me staring. I suddenly wished I truly was invisible. I nodded.
“I’m Rob. This is my brother, James. And apparently you’ve already met the troll.” He gestured toward Isabella who looked increasingly more furious with each word that fell out of his mouth.
One of the older women at the table cleared her throat. “Robert, that’s enough. Stop talking to the help and eat your food.”
Rob rolled his eyes.
And I laughed. A real one. The kind of laugh I had before I lost everything.
“What are you laughing at?” Isabella snapped. “Do your job.”
She was an awful human. But she was right. I was just standing there awkwardly talking to the guests like I belonged. And I definitely did not. I grabbed another entrée and walked behind Isabella’s chair just as she pushed it back to stand.
Maybe if my arms weren’t so tired from holding a tray for an hour I could have held on to the plate. But my arms were tired. The food fell onto my shirt as everything dropped, the expensive glass shattering on the floor. It was worse than the champagne spill I’d envisioned in my head earlier. So much freaking worse. Shit.
Everyone in the ballroom was staring at me. Every single pair of eyeballs condemning me.
“Clean it up,” Isabella said.
I had been standing there like an idiot. I knelt down, hating that I had to listen to her. It was her fault. She’d hit me with her chair on purpose, I knew she had.
It looked like Rob was about to get up and help me.
“She doesn’t need assistance, Rob,” said Isabella. “She’s smart enough to figure it out. Right, darling? Isn’t that the only reason you’re at our school? Because you were smart enough to earn yourself a scholarship? You’re not one of us.”
I heard a few snickers behind me. I could feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes, threatening to escape. She was wrong and for some reason that stung even more. I wasn’t at their school because of a scholarship. I was there because my uncle literally cleaned up after them all day, like she was expecting me to do right now. That made me fit in even less. If Isabella knew the truth,
she’d be more vicious. She’d crucify me. I wasn’t ashamed of what my uncle did. But I was terrified of Isabella’s wrath.
I started picking up the food and broken shards of glass. My hands were shaking. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was embarrassed or angry. All I could see were her stupid high heels standing beside the mess. She was looking down at me in all her glory. I shoved some of the glass onto the cart and one of the pieces sliced the side of my hand. Ow.
“Brooklyn, are you okay?” Kennedy knelt down beside me, ignoring the devil glaring over us. She grabbed my hand. “Jesus. Go take care of the cut. I’ll clean this up.”
I could never repay her for letting me escape this moment. For putting herself in the spotlight when I knew she wanted to blend in at this stupid party just as much as me.
“Seriously, go. I got this.”
“Thank you.” I grabbed my hand and stood up.
“Looks like you’ll definitely have to replace your shoes now,” sneered Isabella.
I looked down. Some of the juice from the steak had gotten onto my Keds. I rushed past Isabella without looking back. If I didn’t get some cold water on them, they’d stain.
All I could hear was her vicious laughter in my head as I pushed into the first bathroom I found.
I kicked off my left shoe, turned on the faucet, and plunged my shoe under the water. I started to scrub it with soap, but the stain wasn’t coming off. The tears I had been holding back before finally spilled out. I scrubbed the fabric harder. But now the blood from my hand was mixing with the water, creating more of a mess. The sink looked like a crime scene.
“You’re bleeding.”
I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck rise. My hand stopped scrubbing the fabric. I knew that voice from class. I’d recognize it anywhere. I looked up into the mirror in front of me. Matthew Caldwell’s face was reflected back beside my own.
