Pool Boys (14 page)

Brooke was in the basement, but, for once, she was not in the sauna. She was not French-kissing Marcus Craft (in fact, she’d spied him upstairs post-initiation but had specifically avoided him). She wasn’t doing much of anything at all, other than standing in front of the lone Ping-Pong table in the corner, absentmindedly tapping one white ball with the paddle.

What am I doing here?

If only she hadn’t listened to Georgia and Charlotte. The only reason she’d even agreed to come to this idiotic ball was that the two of them had made her swear she would come. And where the hell
were
they, anyway? Weren’t they supposed to be getting in touch soon with some sort of plan in place? The three of them had gone out for a long, leisurely brunch at IHOP, and then headed to the mall where Brooke had picked up the flowy, pink Galaxy evening gown and strappy C Label heels she now wore. She’d been reluctant to say good-bye to the girls after that—because she’d missed their down-and-dirty planning, and because, for the first time all summer, things between the three of them felt
almost
like old times.

Brooke sighed and rested her elbows on the green PingPong table. The Marcus-Georgia thing still upset her. But she was more heartbroken about the
idea
of Marcus. Her lifeguard fantasy had fallen flat. And to make matters worse, Charlotte and Georgia had somehow, through all the craziness of the summer, found their soul mates and fallen in love. Brooke swallowed hard, feeling a stab of envy and wondering if she would
ever
experience that certainty with a guy.

She heard footsteps and a railing creak at the top of the stairs.

Brooke frowned. She tossed her paddle aside and rushed across the room, her heels clicking on the concrete. It had to be her dad, pissed at her because she’d snuck away mid-party.

“Psst!
Brooke! Come up! Now!”

Holy
—It wasn’t her father. Brooke’s heart leaped. It was
Georgia
, wearing her Juicy tank, capris, and flip-flops. Brooke lifted the ends of her skirt and clattered up the stairs. Georgia seized her wrist before Brooke even reached the top, her fingers tightening around Brooke’s friendship bracelet—and then she started sprinting down the hallway toward the main entrance. Brooke kept up as best she could, her heels skidding and sliding as they rushed past the parlor and billiards room.

Georgia pushed open the front doors. Her SUV was waiting in the driveway, the engine running. Valerie sat in the passenger seat—her hair flowing over her shoulders, dressed in a strapless red dress. She flashed a quick smile
and opened the back door for Brooke, ushering her into the back.

“Come on!” Valerie hissed as Georgia clambered into the driver’s seat.

Georgia slammed her foot on the accelerator, throwing Brooke against the upholstery as she closed the door. Part of Brooke wanted to laugh; part of her wanted to dive out on the front lawn as Georgia swerved off the driveway and plowed through the grass to avoid the speed bumps.
Jesus!
Brooke spun in the seat, staring out the back window at the ugly tire tracks Georgia had torn in the golf-green-like expanse. A million questions raced through her mind, but for some reason, the very first one that popped out of her mouth was: “What about Marcus?”

“Don’t worry,” Georgia said, screeching out onto the public road. “He’s not invited.”

Brooke gripped the door handle. “Uh…not invited to what—”

“Georgia’s throwing a party,” Valerie said. “And you’re the guest of honor. Well, one of the guests of honor.”

“Actually, the
second
guest of honor,” Georgia said. “No offense, B. Charlotte’s the real guest of honor. She’s already there. Caleb rounded up Robby Miller and Mike and Johnny and Billy, too. So it’ll be a real party.”

Brooke fumbled with her seat belt, trying to organize her thoughts. “A real party?”

“Yeah,” Georgia said. “A
real
Midsummer Ball. But I wanted it to be a surprise. For you, I mean. That’s why we had to kidnap you.”

“I…” Brooke was still at a loss.

“It was partially Valerie’s idea,” Georgia added. She jerked to a stop at a red light.

Brooke nearly choked as she lurched forward. “You guys, I don’t mean to be an alarmist here, but this strikes me as kind of strange…”

“It’s an apology,” Valerie explained.

“Huh?”

Valerie peered over the edge of the passenger seat. “It’s an apology for the way I acted. Like, all summer I was just…nervous. And so I kind of overcompensated.”

“Overcompensated for what?”

“For how I have to start over in this new place and all that…”

Brooke shook her head. “Valerie, maybe
I’m
the one who owes you an apology.” She couldn’t believe she was saying these words, but for the first time all summer, she felt clear-headed.

“Why?”

“For shutting you out.” Brooke stared at the dark road ahead, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “For being so cliquey, so exclusive. I can be that way sometimes.”

Valerie cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”

“But I do have a question,” Brooke continued. “It’s the same question I asked Georgia.
Do
you want Marcus? Or Ethan? Or Caleb?”

“What?”
Valerie laughed. She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, they’re all cute…Hmm. That came out wrong. Short answer: No.”

Brooke grinned. “What’s the long answer?”

“The long answer is, I just moved here,” Valerie finished. “My grades suck, and I need to get my act together…And—well, as you can see, I’m more interested in making new friends than in actually dealing with all my issues. And to be honest, all my old friends were scheming and conniving. That’s why they dropped me so fast. And that’s also probably why I used their same tactics here…It’s sort of all I know. Once my so-called friends found out I couldn’t belong at our old school, they didn’t let me belong with
them.”
She peered around the seat. “That said; it
is
summer. School is out. So I say we just have fun tonight, okay? Because there’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“Who’s that?”

Georgia smiled at Brooke in the rearview mirror. “Her brother, Sebastian.”

Sometimes, it was best just to let emotions and baggage fall by the wayside—even if only for a little bit. Valerie was right; it
was
summer. So when Georgia pulled up to her house on Meadow Lane, and the three of them strode out into the backyard and Brooke saw the scene out by the pool…well, she decided to forget about worrying.

True, the Palmers would be home in a few hours. But this was the real Midsummer Ball, as it should have been. It was a big old mess, but everyone was here, as promised. Crumpled cups and bags of chips were scattered everywhere. Robby Miller and his crew were swimming with Ethan. Caleb was dozing in a lounger next to the bushes,
still suited up in his tie and blazer. Charlotte sat in her bikini and sarong on a chair right next to the diving board, a drowsy smile on her face—though occasionally, she cast a longing glance toward Caleb.

Brooke sighed contentedly. She yanked off her heels and took a seat on the chair next to Charlotte. Georgia took the chair beside Brooke. Ethan leaped out of the pool and planted himself squarely on Georgia’s lap, splashing all of them.

“Hey, watch it!” Brooke cried, but she didn’t feel truly annoyed.

“Ah…you’re used to it, pool girl,” Georgia teased.

A thought occurred to Brooke as she surveyed the increasingly chaotic scene in the water: It was the first time she’d seen any of the pool boys actually
in
a pool.

“You know, G,” Brooke began as Georgia and Ethan started kissing. “I really don’t…” Her voice trailed off.

Valerie reappeared, followed by a very tall, very handsome, curly-haired blond guy. He had deep-set blue eyes that crinkled up when he smiled. The best part about him, even in the dim backyard light, was his clothing: hip, but not
too
hip—a T-shirt with a skeletal fish logo and the words “Flying Spaghetti Monster,” and frayed jeans. In other words, he didn’t look like the kind of guy who spent a whole lot of time in front of the mirror every morning. (Unlike, say, Marcus Craft.) Which, to Brooke, was very, very refreshing.

“This is my brother, Sebastian,” Valerie said to Brooke.

Brooke shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

“Likewise.”

Valerie hurried away.

Sebastian smiled shyly, glancing at his sister over his shoulder. “So apparently, we should get to know each other,” he said, turning toward Brooke again.

Brooke giggled. “Why’s that?”

“I’m not really sure. I think because you like the Strokes.”

“Actually, I don’t really like the Strokes anymore,” she shot back.

“Neither do I,” he said dryly. “I just put that on my MySpace profile.”

Brooke arched an eyebrow. “You have a MySpace profile?”
She
had one but didn’t know many guys who did.

“No. Well, not yet. But, if I did, I would say that I prefer the Hives.”

Brooke bit her lip, blushing. “Hmm. Good taste in music. A rarity among boys.”

“Thanks,” he said. “And who knows—maybe there’s even more we have in common.”

Now Brooke was certain that her face was bright red. Good thing it was so dark out. She nodded. “Maybe,” she managed.

“It’s like the great Nick Hornby says,” Sebastian remarked. “It’s not what you’re like, it’s what you
like.
So maybe my sister wasn’t so far off the mark. You know, about how you and I should meet.”

Brooke lowered her eyes. That was pretty damn true,
wasn’t it? After all, Marcus was
like
a J. Crew model. But as far as any shared interests (aside from making out, but that didn’t count)…there wasn’t a whole lot there. In about forty-five seconds though, Sebastian Packwood had managed to establish a deeper connection.

“Well, let’s not take this enlightening conversation
too
seriously,” he joked. “Hey, I’m gonna get a beer. Want one?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Okay.” He smiled at her, holding her gaze. “So that makes two things we have in common. The Hives, and an appreciation for beer.”

Before Brooke could say something foolish or embarrassing, Valerie reappeared.
Thank God.
She took her brother by the arm and steered him back toward Georgia’s kitchen. Brooke didn’t stop watching until he disappeared through the door.

“Uh-oh,” Charlotte said in a singsong voice. “B’s getting that look in her eye.”

Georgia laughed. “Who wouldn’t?” She giggled.

“Hey!” Ethan said, elbowing her. “Watch it, there.”

“Kidding.” Georgia kissed him on the cheek.

Brooke sighed happily, twirling her friendship bracelet around her wrist.

“What are you thinking, B?” Georgia asked.

“I’m thinking: Of
course
I’m getting that look in my eye,” Brooke said. “We have three weeks left until school starts, you guys, and we’d better enjoy them. I told you this summer was going to be killer, didn’t I?”

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