Looking back, it still breaks my heart.
* * *
I found out he’d asked someone else through the rumor mill, of all places.
I was in the dining hall at lunch, by myself, waiting for Brooke and Olivia to show up. Wendi Rochester-Hodge and her circle were at the table next to me.
Her lesbian phase behind her, Wendi had gone to the formal the previous year with her boyfriend, Jason Hughes, who was at SMI as a senior. She couldn’t shut up about it. She was chattering away about the fitting for her dress when someone asked her if she knew who else would be going this year.
“Hollis Cobb is… Oh! And Olivia Barron messaged me this morning that Heath Anders asked her late last night, which surprised me.”
My heart dropped.
Nausea smacked me hard. There was no way that could be right.
I stood up so quickly that my chair scraped the floor behind me, making everyone turn to look. My cheeks were hot, and I could already feel the sweat pooling under my arms.
“Sheridan!” Wendi called to me. “I didn’t even see you there!”
I smiled but said nothing.
I needed to get out of there before anyone could watch me fall apart.
Thirty-Six
HOLLIS
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I was listening to a sobbing Sheridan tell me what she’d heard at lunch about Olivia going to the ring formal with Heath. Amanda walked in right as I said that.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked, and when she saw Sheridan crying on my bed, she immediately sat down next to her to console her.
“Olivia.” I spat her name. “Did something happen to her over the summer? Because suddenly she’s a man-stealing bitch and I’m starting to think she was replaced with some kind of evil clone.”
Amanda’s eyes widened and she looked back at Sheridan.
“Not Heath,” Amanda said. “He asked her to the formal, didn’t he?”
Sheridan nodded as she blew her nose into a tissue from the box on my desk.
“I know it’s stupid to get this upset,” Sheridan sighed between sobs. “I feel ashamed to be one of those women crying over some guy, but this really blindsided me. Olivia… I mean, she knows how much I like him.”
Amanda rubbed Sheridan’s shoulders as she continued to weep. I hopped online to message Winston and see if he knew what happened— if it was even true.
He confirmed it was and that he’d been surprised because they’d talked about him asking Sheridan just a week ago.
“Apparently he started talking to Olivia over messenger in the last week and he says they just seemed to hit it off. That or she promised him she’d put out, I don’t know,” Winston typed, but I didn’t share what he said with Sheridan.
The girl was suffering enough.
* * *
Olivia came back later that afternoon. Sheridan was off to class and Amanda was at the library. Brooke was taking a nap.
“Are you really going to formal with Heath?” I asked as soon as she walked into the room.
Olivia stopped, surprised.
“He just asked me,” she said.
“And you said yes?” I asked. “Even though you know Sheridan likes him and has been talking to him?”
Olivia sat down at her desk and didn’t say anything for a moment.
“What’s happened to you?” I challenged her. “You’re like a different person this year. First Alec. Now Heath. Do you have a pathological need to hurt your friends? I don’t get it… There are plenty of guys out there, why are you picking ones you know your friends are into?”
Olivia shook her head. “I just really wanted to go to ring formal. It’s a big deal and this is probably my only chance. My cousins all went and told me it’s a special experience. We’re only going as friends.”
“And you think that makes it okay?” I raised my voice and Olivia jumped. I was towering over her now and she looked intimidated.
“Why would Sheridan want to be with someone who doesn’t like her the same way?” Olivia protested. “I mean, he would have asked her otherwise, right? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
I laughed. “Sure. Okay.”
I walked away to pack up my backpack. I needed to get away from this bitch.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked. “I really thought you’d get it. You’ve always said that fair is fair with guys. People aren’t territories. That’s a direct quote from you.”
I whirled around, making her jump.
“I wasn’t talking about your best friends, Olivia,” I snapped. “You fucking know that. You don’t do this to friends. Especially over a mediocre dude from SMI. I said that too.” I zipped up my Jansport and threw it over my shoulder.
“Friends first,” I said before opening the door and leaving her behind.
Thirty-Seven
AMANDA
Mid-November in the Shenandoah Valley was colder than usual that year. Snow dusted the grounds of Martha Jefferson and the weather was calling for even heavier snowfall over the Thanksgiving holiday.
Olivia and Hollis were the only ones with official dates to the big ring ceremony at SMI. Brooke and Sheridan pretended to be excited to help them get ready, but there was something intangibly and unspeakably pathetic about helping your girlfriend get ready for a date with the boy you were desperately in love with.
Brooke pretended everything was fine. As usual.
Sheridan wasn’t as good at pretending. She refused to help Olivia with her hair, even though Sheridan had promised Olivia a couple of weeks ago that she would.
“That was before she stole Heath.” Sheridan was still bitter. Despite the fact that Sheridan hadn’t been with him officially, there was still the Golden Rule of friendship— you never dated or hooked up with a guy who had once belonged to your friend. It just wasn’t done.
I had no dog in this fight, if there really was a fight; but there was definitely tension, if nothing else.
Olivia’s betrayal seemed to shock everyone, excluding me. I’d seen through her sweet girl act for a while now. The girl had more issues than Cosmopolitan magazine, after all. It frustrated me that I was the only one who’d seen them for this long and that no one else had noticed Olivia’s problematic behavior until it impacted them directly.
It was like my issues with her hadn’t been real, but because of the other girls’ status within our group, they suddenly were. And it was hurtful.
“Do you think it matters that my dress isn’t lined?” I heard Olivia say as she pulled on the elbow length white satin gloves the girls were required to wear as cadet escorts.
They looked ridiculous. That was not my resentment speaking either, it was just the truth.
Especially on someone as short as Olivia. Between the floor length dress and the gloves, she looked like a kid playing dress-up in her mother’s closet— if her mother was a religious fundamentalist.
Hollis stared at her and I could see the displeasure in her eyes at such a ridiculous question.
“Only if you don’t mind everyone seeing the kind of panties you have on,” Hollis retorted as Brooke tucked tendrils of Hollis’s thick mane around the hot curling iron in her hands. “There’s going to be a spotlight on you when you walk through the chuppah thing.”
“I thought chuppahs were only for weddings?” Olivia asked. “Jewish ones?”
Hollis seethed under Brooke’s helpful hands.
“They were, but it’s the only way I know how to describe what it looks like. Either way, I answered your question.”
“I’m sorry.” Olivia tucked her chin down, the girl’s version of having a tail between their legs. “I feel like you’re so mad at me lately. Like everyone’s mad at me. Is it because I’m going with Heath?”
There was an awkward silence in the room, which should have given Olivia her answer, but she wasn’t someone who accepted the southern politeness of passive aggression so she pressed on.
“I wouldn’t hav
e said yes if I’d known it would cause y’all to hate me.” Her voice had a cry in it, but there were no tears happening.
No one bought it.
Olivia Barron had used all her lives up when it came to us.
* * *
Ring night at SMI is supposedly a big deal since it’s one of the few nights of the year those guys get any sort of taste of normal American college life. Hotel rooms are rented in the hopes of lost virginity and endless alcohol binging.
Our group of friends had rented a cabin on the outskirts of the college town; a cabin rumored to have once been used as Stonewall Jackson’s hunting lodge, though it seemed much too modern to have ever hosted him.
I didn’t really care anyway. I was just there for the free booze.
Hollis’s credit cards did the hard work for us, thankfully. It’s how we snagged the cabin, the four bottles of Grey Goose, and the single bottle of gin that Heath had insisted on.
I’d been the only one to mention that having Heath at the same after-party as his date and Sheridan could be something that might be problematic, but Sheridan was stubborn. She refused to acknowledge the clear fact that she was not over Heath and was not going to do well seeing him with another girl, especially since the other girl was Olivia.
“Whoever cares the least holds the power,” Sheridan pointed out.
“But you do care,” Brooke pointed out. “Why are you torturing yourself?”
“To show them I don’t care,” Sheridan replied, as if it should be obvious.
“This should end well,” I said, but neither of them heard me.
Thirty-Eight
SHERIDAN
Of course, Amanda and Brooke were right.
I cared way too much when it came to Heath.
As much as I wanted to play the part of the cool girl— ironically, the kind of girl I’d thought Olivia was— it just wasn’t me. I was always going to be too sensitive, too open-book to be that kind of girl. It wasn’t cool to care, which is why I’d never been cool a day in my life.
Caring was what defined me more than anything.
But I was also proud. I didn’t want to give Olivia the satisfaction of thinking this was impacting me. And if Heath was doing this to make me jealous, I couldn’t allow him to know it had worked. Somehow that felt like giving up a sort of power.
And for once in my life, I refused to be passive. I needed to be like Hollis, the real cool girl among us. Hollis would never have done this to any of us. She was difficult in many ways, but at least she was loyal.
* * *
Hollis had given us the keys to the cabin she’d rented for the after-party. It was just me, Amanda, and Brooke that afternoon. We were wrapped up in thick pea coats and scarves. Brooke had her trust pearls on and Ann Taylor outfit. Amanda and I had barely bothered to change out of our pajamas. It was our silent protest. Also, for some reason, I drink more when I’m in flannel pants.
And that night, I planned on drinking more than I’d ever drank before.
Hollis and Olivia had gone together to SMI for the banquet dinner and then the dance. Hollis claimed she hadn’t planned on staying there long, just enough for them to be presented and to get pictures.
Olivia had left the room to go downstairs to get into the limo the girls had rented with a couple of other Martha Jefferson students who also had dates to the SMI formal.
“You really aren’t going to stay until the end?” I asked Hollis.
“This isn’t fucking high school,” she scoffed as Brooke pushed bobby pins into her up-do to keep it from moving.
“You mean you don’t want to end the night in Winston’s arms as you slowly rock back and forth to a Jodeci song?” Amanda teased.
Hollis snort laughed which just made us all chuckle.
“I actually wouldn’t mind ending my night like that,” Brooke sighed. Hollis wrapped a slender arm around her.
“Please do not be sad about not going,” Hollis said. It was a rare thing for her to comfort anyone, at least not without her trademark sardonic remarks. “You are missing nothing. The best part of this weekend happens as soon as this stupid formal is over. Winston’s bringing some of his friends over. We’re all going to get shit faced. And naked, hopefully. You could still get your Jodeci fantasy.”
Brooke smiled. It seemed like Hollis’s words, for once, had made her actually feel better.
Thirty-Nine
HOLLIS
I barely remember the stupid dance.
By the time we got to the banquet, I’d already had two shots of high proof liquor— a brand and spirit that wasn’t even legal to buy in Virginia. Amanda had gotten it in West Virginia ages ago because it was legal there. We’d mixed it with concentrated Kool-Aid that Olivia brought. All of us took at least two large shots of the mixture, sharing six shot-glasses among the ten girls in the limo. Not the most hygienic moment of my life, admittedly.
None of us had any food on our stomachs. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
I knew the night was going to be a blur.
* * *
Winston was waiting for me with the other cadets on the stone steps outside of the banquet hall entrance.
I was definitely buzzed, but also in control. Olivia on the other hand— probably due to being the size of a troll doll— was already leaning toward obnoxious and Heath looked none too pleased.
And that brought me a lot of satisfaction.
“Hey, Hollis.” Winston looked me up and down as if I was a prize horse he was about to bet on. I smacked his shoulder.
“So much for being a gentleman,” I said, and he laughed.
“Sorry. You look really hot, Hollis.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Winston.”
He raised his eyebrows and I smirked.
“You are something else, Hollis Cobb.”
And with that, he offered me his arm and we were on our way to the rest of our night.
* * *
The dinner helped sober me up a little bit. I’d eaten three dinner rolls and a few bites of fatty, bleeding prime rib. Winston also passed me a flask of bourbon under the table, which I’d appreciated.
The dance wasn’t even really a dance. Music didn’t even play for the longest time, and despite it being below freezing outside, it was humid as balls in the reception hall.
“This is the worst prom ever,” I joked as I fanned myself with the program that had been handed out to us as we entered. “I’m wilting.”
Olivia meanwhile was a little giggle factory next to me, and Heath looked miserable. Olivia’s dress looked cheap under the fluorescent lighting of the large room we were stuck in and her foundation was two shades too dark, which illuminated how pale her neck and shoulders were.
Olivia had a great body, but I couldn’t help but think how much of Olivia’s hotness depended on Cover Girl and a good haircut. It was a manufactured hotness; one I could see not aging well.
The alcohol didn’t help her case either.
An hour later we were finally lined up for the presentation ceremony where the cadets would trot us out like bitches at a dog show in our baptismal-looking white dresses and gloves.
Jessica McClintock would have been ashamed of all of us.
I played the part of the charming escort, giving a big smile to the photographer at the end of the red carpet. A couple of weeks later when we got the pictures back, I looked great, but Winston looked surprised, his neck thick, his face red and sweaty.
Like he hadn’t been prepared at all, which seemed so typical of men. I’d spent all morning getting ready for that brief flash of the camera, but Winston probably hadn’t thought about it until the second that photographer put his lens on us.
Olivia stumbled a bit on the carpet. They’d posed for the photo, begrudgingly, but Heath hadn’t even bothered ordering pictures.
By then he’d realized what we all knew— he’d made a really bad decision bringing Olivia as his date.
I just had no idea then how much that
decision would end up affecting us all.
Forty
BROOKE
We were drunk long before Hollis and Olivia were back from the dance.
Which, admittedly, isn’t saying much when it comes to me. Since I’m not a big drinker, it never takes many to get me buzzed. And Amanda had a very heavy pour.
Sheridan had brought her laptop with her and some speakers so we could listen to music while we waited for everyone else to show up. The cabin had two bedrooms and a living room with a fire place. We’d stuffed it full of dry logs, but no one had thought to bring a lighter or match, which after three potent rum and Cokes struck us all as very funny, and we’d been laughing uncontrollably ever since.
“How many people are coming tonight?” Sheridan asked as Amanda scrolled through the list of songs on Sheridan’s WinAmp. A Sisqo song suddenly roared through the tinny speakers and Amanda jumped up, excited to groove to her favorite song of the moment.
“I don’t even know,” I said as I giggled at Amanda gyrating against Sheridan’s thigh. “I think just a few of Winston’s buddies.”
“No other Jefferson girls, right?” Sheridan had to speak up over the volume of Sisqo’s crooning about dumps like a truck, whatever that meant.
“I don’t think so?”
And as if on cue, someone was knocking on our door.
Amanda danced over to the front of the cabin and swung the door open, I supposed because she expected it to be Hollis and Olivia.
But no.
Wendi Rochester-Hodge and some other girls from our class stood on the front stoop, brown paper bags in their arms.
The Girls On the Hill: A Psychological Thriller Page 10
