Epic Fail (5 page)

“What was he like?” Mom asked.

“Vegetarian,” he said seriously. “At the time. But these movie stars change their diets constantly. They follow the current fad. Makes my life difficult.”

“Yes, they’re all on very strict diets until you get a glass of wine into them,” said Aunt Amy, who was cheerful and plump but had shrewd eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “And then they’ll eat anything you put in front of them. Most of them are half-starved.”

“We should start a charity,” Diana suggested. “Save our poor hungry movie stars.”

“We could have a bake sale,” I said.

“Or just feed them the cookies directly,” said Aunt Amy. “And skip the middleman.”

“What do you think, Elise?” asked Diana. “Will your pal Derek Edwards agree to bring home some cookies for his mommy and daddy?”

“Only if they’re raw,” I said.

After dinner, Diana and I were on dish duty in the kitchen.

“So, do you like him?” she asked.

“Who?”

She rolled her eyes and put a plate in the dish rack. “Derek Edwards.”

I shook my head. “Not really. That friend of his—Chase—seems genuinely into Juliana, and the feeling’s clearly mutual—even though Juliana won’t admit it yet—so we’ve gotten stuck together because of that. But Derek’s actually kind of a jerk.”

“How so?”

“He’s really standoffish. He assumes people only want to be friends with him because of his parents.”

“Well, he probably has reason for that.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s still obnoxious.”

“Is he cute?”

“Very.”

She shoved her chin-length hair behind her ear so she could look sideways at me. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Pretty sure.” I covered some leftovers with tinfoil.

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. “What means this ‘hmm’?”

“I don’t know. Just . . . don’t write him off too quickly.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sure he’s not
that
bad . . . and if there’s any chance that you could become friends with Melinda Anton’s son, you should do it.”

“You’re the last person in the world who I would have expected to say something like that.”

She laughed. “Relax. I’m not saying you should make out with him because his mother’s famous, Elise. Just don’t be rude to him.” She transferred a stack of dishes from the counter to the sink. “Although if he
asks
you to make out with him—”

“Yeah, that’s going to happen.”

“I’m joking.” She started rinsing off the plates and putting them in the dishwasher. “Seriously, though, my dad would kill for an in with Melinda Anton. Work’s slowed down so much for him the last couple of years. All the studios are cutting back—no one’s throwing parties anymore. But someone like Melinda Anton will always have money, you know? If she started using him . . .”

“I had no idea,” I said. “About your dad and work, I mean. I’m sorry.”

“He doesn’t like to tell people.” She shrugged. “Anyway, things are tough all over.”

“You wouldn’t know it at Coral Tree. Girls come to school in five-hundred-dollar outfits, and the cars they drive are unreal.”

“Maybe people who send their kids to private school are so rich to begin with that they’re not affected by the economy.”

“Some of them could be getting financial aid, too, I guess.”
We
were, even with Mom and Dad’s faculty discount. And I assumed Webster was, too, since he had said stuff about not having as much money as other kids at the school. But it wasn’t something people talked about. “It’s not like you can tell who’s getting it and who isn’t,” I added.

“Anyway, my dad said if things don’t get better pretty soon, we may have to move to a less expensive city.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to move.” She paused to scrub at a platter way more intently than was necessary. “There’s this guy . . .”

“You’re dating someone? Diana, that’s fantastic.”

“Don’t get too excited,” she said. “He’s a total nerd.”

“I’m sure he’s cute,” I said sincerely.

“
I
think so. But it’s not like I can be choosy.”

“Stop it,” I said. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Spoken like a true cousin.”

Studying Diana’s intelligent and good-natured face as she leaned over to put the platter in the dishdrain, I felt a flicker of uneasiness: even she saw advantages to cultivating Derek Edwards as a friend, without knowing or caring much about either his personality or his principles. Honest, straightforward, decent Diana.

It made me sad for her. It made me sad for him. It made me sad for the world.

And it made me all the more desperate to prove that I wasn’t like everyone else that way: I valued people because of who they were deep down, not because of their names or their parents’ clout.

And I intended to prove that to myself and everyone around me.

Chapter Six

N
o,” I said to Juliana at school on Friday. “No way.
Nein
.
Nyet
.
Non
.”

“I’m not going without you.”

“Then don’t go. I’ve run out of languages I can say no in, anyway.”

“Forget I even asked.”

But she looked so disappointed that I groaned and actually surrendered. “I hate it when you’re all noble and self-sacrificing! Fine—I’ll go. But not happily.”

She threw her arms around me. “Thank you, Lee-Lee! You’re the best sister ever. I’ll call Chase right now.”

So that’s how I found myself committed to going with Jules and Chase to a party thrown by Jason Bigelow, the captain of the lacrosse team, and a guy I’d never even met.

It was Layla who first alerted the rest of the family to the fact that a stretch limousine had pulled up in front of our house on Saturday night. “Oh my God, oh my God!” she squealed, looking out the front window. “It’s like a block long! You guys are so friggin’ lucky!” All her squeals brought my parents and Kaitlyn running into the hallway to see.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” my father said as Juliana and I arrived downstairs. “This kind of excess. Please, girls, remember that this isn’t normal, okay?”

“They know that,” Mom said. “Our girls have good heads on their shoulders.” And then she strode out the door.

Juliana gasped and we both lunged for her, but she was already charging down the walkway to where the chauffeur was opening the door of the long dark car. Chase emerged, gracefully unfolding his slender body. His dark gray khakis and blue-and-white striped oxford shirt were very collegiate and blessedly clean-cut, given that my parents were watching. “Good evening, Dr. Gardiner,” he said, holding out his hand and shaking hers. “Thank you for trusting me with your daughters tonight.”

My mother smiled at that. She liked polite young men. “I appreciate that very much, Mr. Baldwin. And whom do you have in the car with you?”

“My sister and my friend.” He called over his shoulder, “Come out and say hi, guys.”

Chelsea exited the limo with a very put-upon expression on her face. She was wearing extremely tight blue jeans and a corset top that revealed a lot of slender arm, white shoulder, and bright pink bra strap. I was afraid my mother might say something disapproving, but—for better or for worse—her attention was completely focused on the other passenger coming out of the limo. “Mr. Edwards!” she exclaimed with genuine delight. “My girls didn’t tell me you were coming, too!”

Ten moderately mortifying minutes later, we were on our way. My mom had insisted on thanking Derek over and over again for picking us up in his limo—she didn’t seem to absorb his muttered, “It’s not mine; it’s Chase’s dad’s.” She was still thanking him when we were all climbing into the back of it.

As we left her behind on the sidewalk—cheerfully waving—the five of us sank down on the soft leather benches that ran both lengths of the elongated car body. Chase and Jules were next to each other, of course. I was on Juliana’s other side, which put me opposite Derek Edwards, whose long legs took up all the available in-between space. I had to curl my own legs sideways or risk rubbing knees.

Chelsea was glued to Derek’s side, which didn’t surprise me since I was convinced she had the world’s biggest crush on him. I wasn’t as sure about his feelings toward her. He seemed comfortable having her around, but I wasn’t seeing a ton of romantic interest there.

On the other hand, the guy was impossible to read in almost every way. For all I knew, he was madly head over heels in love with Chelsea Baldwin, but was so repressed and weird you couldn’t tell. For all I knew, he was gay.

I was still wearing the sweater I’d put on over my tank top to make it past my mother, and which completely ruined the look I was going for. I started to pull it off, but it got stuck halfway down my arms. I was twisting around awkwardly, trying to wriggle free, when I felt a hand tug the sleeves down and off of me. I looked up. Derek Edwards had leaned forward to help me. “Thanks,” I said.

The sound of a cell phone vibrating broke the awkward silence. Derek swiftly extracted a phone from his right hip pocket and squinted down at the screen. He read something before texting back a response, skillfully dancing his thumbs on the touchscreen.

Meanwhile, Chelsea had snuggled closer to his side and was craning her neck over his shoulder in an effort to read what he was writing. “Who’re you texting?”

“My sister.”

“Oh my God! Georgia! I haven’t heard from her in ages! I miss hanging out with her
so
much. Tell her I miss hanging out with her, will you?”

“Tell her yourself.”

“She’s so lucky to be out of here!”

Why did that cause such a miserable expression to cross Derek’s face? I could see it clearly from where I was sitting. But Chelsea was oblivious. She went blithely on. “Will she come home for Thanksgiving?”

“Probably.”

“Make sure she saves lots of time for me. I miss her so much.”

“Really?” He finished texting and leaned sideways so he could stick the phone back in his pocket. “I didn’t think you guys were that close. You’re not even in the same grade.”

“Brothers never notice anything.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” I said to Derek. “She doesn’t go to Coral Tree?”

“She did, but this year she switched to boarding school.”

“Any special reason?”

Derek’s eyes flitted across my face, and then he looked down at his hands and said tonelessly, “Coral Tree’s a mediocre school academically. My parents thought she needed a place that was more challenging.” It sounded like something he had memorized.

“And it’s getting worse by the hour,” Chelsea said. “No offense to your mother,” she added, just to make sure I got the point that she was being offensive to my mother.

I ignored her. “What about you?” I asked Derek. “Why didn’t your parents take
you
out of Coral Tree?”

He shrugged. “I’m a mediocre student. Coral Tree’s fine for me.”

“Don’t believe it!” Chelsea said. “Derek’s, like, the smartest kid in his class.”

“How would
you
know?” he asked. “This is the first time we’ve ever had a class together.”

“Everyone says so.”

“Well, I’m not. Not even close.”

“But why a boarding school?” I pursued, genuinely curious. “There are other college prep schools here in L.A. Some really good ones. So why—”

He shifted on the bench and pointed out the window. “Look, the Getty Museum monorail.”

Chelsea obediently gazed out the window. But I was more curious than ever. Derek Edwards was not the kind of guy who went around pointing enthusiastically at trains. He just didn’t want to answer my questions.

Chelsea split from the rest of us as soon as we entered the loud, noisy, crowded party house.

No, wait—I take that back. It wasn’t right away, because first she tugged on Derek’s arm and said, “Want to dance?” and he said, “You know I don’t dance,” and then she said, “Help me find the bar,” and he said, “It’s over there,” and then she said, “Come get a drink with me?” and he said, “I’m not thirsty,” and then she said, “Let’s go see the indoor pool,” and he said, “I’ve seen it,” and
then
she gave up and headed toward a group of her friends, although not without one last overly loud and enthusiastic, “Bye, Derek! Come find me later!” which was clearly intended for her friends’ ears, so they’d all think she and Derek had come together, I assumed. Which they had—but not in
that
way.

“Should we get something to drink?” Chase asked right after she’d gone.

“Yeah, I’d kill for a Coke,” Derek said, and led the way toward the bar he had pointed out a second earlier to Chelsea.

Okay, so he definitely wasn’t interested in her romantically.

The bar was the real thing, an ornately carved wooden counter with a built-in sink and (locked) wine storage unit behind it. I had never seen one in a house in real life, only in TV shows and movies.

Then again, the whole house was like nothing I’d seen before. Chelsea had made several deprecating comments in the car about how annoying it was that we had to trek all the way to the “sucky Valley,” so I had expected to end up at some nasty little tract house, not at an enormous gated estate.

I was relieved to see nothing alcoholic on the bar—no need to lie to my mother, who always warned us to leave any party immediately if we saw anyone drinking. I wondered sometimes if she was deliberately naive about this stuff. I mean, she’d been in high school administration for more than a decade. She
had
to have some sense of reality, right?

I was always honest about my own behavior—I never drank alcohol. But if I told my parents the entire truth—that almost everyone
else
drank beer at parties—they wouldn’t let me or my sisters go anywhere ever again.

Mom and Dad loved to say, “We trust you to behave appropriately,” and then not trust us at all. I didn’t
want
to deceive my parents. But they didn’t leave me much choice.

Chase saw me studying the contents of the bar. “It’s all soda,” he confirmed. “Jason has this deal with his parents: he can throw as many parties as he likes so long as he doesn’t serve alcohol.” He added in a low voice, “He doesn’t necessarily stop people from
bringing
it, of course. So, if you guys want something like that, I can ask around. . . .”

“No, thanks,” Juliana said quickly. “I’m happy with Diet Coke.”

“Me too,” I said. “It’s the Official Drink of Girls.”

“Boys too. I love the stuff.” Chase seemed relieved that we’d turned down his offer, which made me like him even more.

Derek pulled the tab on a can of regular Coke.

Then Chase said to Juliana with über-casualness, “Want to see the rest of this place? They have an amazing aquarium in one of the back rooms.”

I almost giggled. Talk about a line.

Jules glanced at me uncertainly. “Elise?”

“You go ahead. I’m fine here.” I wasn’t really—I didn’t know anyone else—but the sooner Chase got some time alone with her, the sooner we could leave. I hoped.

“You can come with us,” she offered.

I shot her a
Give the guy a break
look
.
Out loud, I said, “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

“Sounds good,” Chase said, and hustled her away. I watched them as they made their way through the crowd, their heads bent close together, his hand lingering on her arm.

“So,” Derek said from right next to me. I jumped. I had forgotten about him. “Want to—” He stopped. He seemed uncertain how to finish the sentence.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You probably don’t know that many people here.”

“That’s what parties are for, right? To get to know people?”

“I don’t know what they’re for, to be honest. I’m not a fan of them.” He did look pretty uncomfortable as he clutched his Coke to his chest, his eyes darting warily around the room.

The irony was, of course, that almost anyone there would happily have hung with him. The girls all would have danced with him, and the boys would have dragged him off to do . . . whatever boys do at parties. But he pretty much made himself unapproachable: he avoided eye contact and barely acknowledged anyone who tried to greet him.

“Why’d you come tonight?” I asked abruptly.

“Chase wanted to.”

“You always do whatever he wants?”

“Pretty much. He’s more like a brother than a friend at this point.”

“I know what you mean. Juliana’s just like a sister to me.”

“Now that’s a little weird,” he said, with that brief shadow of a smile I’d seen once or twice before. There was a short pause. “You play Ping-Pong?” he asked.

“Not well. But I like it.”

“Perfect.” He put his drink down on the bar. “I’ll beat you. I like winning.”

I put mine down, too. “Where to?”

“Downstairs. They have a rec room in the basement.”

We threaded a path through the crowd in the living room and then through another much darker room, where loud music throbbed while couples ground their bodies together. It was suffocatingly hot, and I was glad I had left my sweater in the car . . . uh, limo.

One girl was dancing all by herself, swaying to what must have been a beat inside her own head, because her movements in no way matched the one we could hear. Her eyes were closed—the better to hear that internal tune, I guess—and as we tried to slip by, she suddenly bobbed right in front of me, forcing me to step back so quickly that I backed into someone behind me. My rebound from that sent me tripping over a foot, and I almost hit the floor, but Derek quickly grabbed my arm and steadied me before I could fall.

Then, without saying anything, he slid his hand down to clasp my wrist, which he continued to hold as he navigated our way through the crowd. There was nothing romantic about it—he was just leading me through the press of people and probably figured (with undeniable justification) that I’d hurt myself if he didn’t keep a grip on me. But I was very aware of his warm fingers against my skin and ducked my head, relieved no one could see me blush in the darkened room.

We emerged from the dance room into a back hallway that was quieter but even darker. “This way,” Derek said, and steered me toward the top of a stairway. He suddenly pulled me against his side, and it took me a moment to realize he had once again saved me—this time from falling over the extended legs of a kid who was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, a girl curled up on his lap, her lips plastered against his, his hands snaking down her jeans. I felt a jolt of embarrassment as we crept around them and headed down the stairs—for them because they were doing stuff in public no one should do in public, and also for us because we could see them doing it. Not that they noticed us.

Derek released my hand without a word as we entered the most enormous room I’d ever seen in a private home. Only the words
airplane hangar
could do it justice. It was carpeted and lined with floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, probably to muffle the noise currently being generated by the use of a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, and, at the far end of the room, a wall-sized entertainment console containing a gigantic flat-screen TV and several video game systems.