Populazzi (31 page)

Over the next week, Trista helped make sure I wouldn't ever get caught again without the proper clubbing attire. We hit Forever 21 and Victoria's Secret to get me a few choice dresses, bras, and thongs. And though Trista was insane-o rich, she was all about a bargain. I spent barely any money, so there wouldn't be any credit card issues.

Two Saturdays later I experienced my first Populazzi holiday: Valentine's Day. I'd never had a boyfriend for Valentine's Day, and I was racking my brain about what to get him, but Trista said there was only one acceptable V-Day gift: lingerie.

"You really think Eddie would look good in lingerie?" I asked.

I was joking, but Trista didn't get it. She looked at me as if I was hopeless. "The lingerie is for
you.
We'll all go shopping together this week to get it."

She didn't mention
where
we'd go, a fact Claudia seized on. She was convinced Trista would take us to some crazy-exotic sex shop filled with weird paraphernalia. Every time we spoke, Claude tortured me with more bizarre details of the imagined den of iniquity, and there was no way I was going to be able to handle the outing without turning bright red and hyperventilating over the idea that someone might see me. I didn't even want to think about what I'd do if I had to use my credit card.

"What," Claudia said, "you don't think Karl would be cool with a charge from Priscilla's Passion Pit?"

"Stop."

"How about Lolita's Love Loft?"

"That's it. I'm not going."

"Sexistentialism?"

"No. There's no ... Okay, if it was actually called Sexisten-tialism I might have to go inside."

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. Trista took us back to Victoria's Secret, a place I could enter without a qualm and which would look totally acceptable on a credit card statement. I did feel weird going to the "sexy" section of the store, flipping through filmy, lacy things that required far more confidence and cup size than I actually had.

I couldn't even begin to choose anything to try on, but luckily I didn't have to—what Trista pulled for me was perfect. It was more like a slip than anything hard-core, with thin shoulder straps, a lacy top, and a mesh skirt that came down to the tops of my thighs. It was red, so the mesh was a little see-through, but not so much that it would be embarrassing. It was tasteful and cute—I actually thought I looked pretty in it. Trista and Kristie picked out beautiful and tasteful things as well. Ree-Ree's ... I saw it on the hanger and wondered if they were selling it to wear or to use for cat's cradle. For Ree-Ree it was perfect.

On Valentine's night, we made the guys wait outside until we were ready to reveal our presents. We actually made them wait an extra ten minutes after that. I thought that was a little mean given the freezing weather, but Trista said it built "delicious anticipation."

Finally, Trista had me unlock the door, but I didn't open it. I ducked into the bathroom with the other girls, and then Trista yelled for the guys to come in. Only when they'd shut the door and taken seats did Trista hit the remote to turn on music so we could strut our lingerie-clad selves into the room.

The guys loved it. They hooted and catcalled like wild, Eddie as loud as any of them. The whole night, it seemed as if Eddie couldn't take his eyes or hands off me. He stared at me, whatever I did. When I sat in his lap while we all played drinking games, he kept running his hands up and down my little slip.

The attention made me feel beautiful and sexy ... but also a little scared. Eddie and I had been pretty tame in our makeout sessions so far. I knew even Kristie was doing a lot more. I wondered if he'd take the lingerie fashion show as an invitation to go a little further. Not that a little further was a problem, but a lot further might be. Eddie and I hadn't talked about whether or not he was a virgin. Things might be on the table for him that weren't at all for me.

When we eventually made it out to our chaise and started kissing, it kept nagging at me. Part of me wanted to say something, but stopping a perfectly wonderful makeout session to define things that might not even need defining seemed like the worst turnoff in the world. I did
not
want to turn Eddie off. But wouldn't stopping things when we were actually getting close to doing something I didn't want to do be even more of a turnoff?

"Eddie," I finally said between kisses.

"What's up?"

"I just want to make sure ... I mean, I don't know how ... how far you wanted to go, but..."

Ugh. I looked away. Was it possible to be any lamer? I didn't think so. I was sure I'd turned as red as my slip.

Yet as my mind raced through ways to convince Eddie not to break up with me, he put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face to his. "Hey ... it's okay. I like you. For real. That's why I want to go nice and slow, okay?"

Relief flooded through me. "Perfect," I said. And I was so happy that I practically tackled him to get back to the kissing, which we did for most of the night before we fell asleep in each other's arms. After the sexual hyperspeed of Nate, it was wonderful to be with a guy who wanted to take things slowly. It meant things with Eddie could stay more innocent and romantic, which I loved.

Back when I was grounded, I'd felt as though I was living only during the week, when I escaped to school. Now that I was a full-time member of the Populazzi, it was the opposite—I lived weekend to weekend. That was when everything important happened. The weekdays were all about planning to make those weekends great. I knew my schoolwork was suffering—I didn't have as much time to study. I supposed there'd be consequences when Mom and Karl got my next report card, but that was ages away.

In the meantime, I had something more pressing to think about: next weekend's winter formal. It would be the first school dance I'd ever attend with a date on my arm. Gemma would still be out of town, but Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I had an endless list of things to do to prepare: hair appointments, mani-pedis, dress hunting ... Trista even wanted to decorate The Hang with a wintery theme, just to keep the mood going when we all went back to her place after the dance. I was in fact brainstorming ideas to enhance that very project ... when out of nowhere, in the middle of English class, I was brutally ambushed and put on trial.

I didn't even realize it at first; I wasn't paying attention. It was Friday, the formal was the next day, and the only thing on my mind was the splash Trista, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I would make in our spectacular new ensembles. It wasn't until Mr. Woodward cleared his throat that I noticed he was standing over me, and every pair of eyes in the room was boring into my face.

"So?" Mr. Woodward asked.

Uh-oh. Clearly I had been asked something, but I had no idea what it was.

"Um ... I'm sorry, can you please repeat the question?"

"It would be my absolute pleasure," Mr. Woodward said. "In fact, let's go ahead and do a little reenactment of everything that just happened. Like we're TiVo."

I took a deep breath. Mr. Woodward seemed giddy. That did not bode well for me.

"The class was discussing
The Crucible,
," he said. "You remember we're doing our unit on
The Crucible,
yes?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. You've been so silent lately, I sometimes fear you believe your top-of-the-table perch is more a tanning bed than a vantage point for learning. Well, then. The question arose, 'How exactly do people get caught up in the kind of groupthink we find in Miller's play?' And Mr. Jain said..."

Mr. Woodward turned to Archer. He blushed but didn't ignore the tacit request.

"I said, 'Maybe you should ask Cara.'"

"Oh, you said it far more pointedly than that, Mr. Jain. Let's not back away from our stance now. And I believe you even added the phrase
'she
—referring to Miss Leonard, of course—'seems to be an
expert
in groupthink.'"

Mr. Woodward turned back to me. "So I ask you, Miss Leonard: how
do
people get caught up in Arthur Miller's level of groupthink?"

Groupthink? Why would I be an expert in groupthink?

I looked at Archer and was about to ask him the question—when suddenly I got it.

At least I thought I got it. But that couldn't really be it, could it? Was Archer ... were
Mr. Woodward
and Archer really accusing me of groupthink because I was part of the Populazzi?

They couldn't be. This was the middle of English class. They couldn't gang up on me and pass judgment on my social life in the middle of English class.

And yet ... what else could they be talking about? And why else would everyone in the room be leaning in and sucking up the drama? It was because I was a Populazzi now. What happened to me was interesting.
Especially
if it was embarrassing.

Anger shot through me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from leaping off the table and screaming. In that moment, I hated all of them, but I reserved a special ring of fire for Mr. Woodward and Archer. Especially Archer. He was supposed to be my friend.

With effort, I calmly addressed Mr. Woodward. "I'm sure Archer's trying to compliment me on my
expert
ability to analyze
The Crucible,
which I appreciate. The answer is that people get caught up in groupthink out of fear, because they're afraid to be different and out of step with the majority."

"Well done," Mr. Woodward said. I was quite sure he wasn't referring only to my answer about Miller's play. He went back to lecturing, though the bulk of the class was nowhere near as interested as they'd been two minutes ago. I kept my eyes only on Mr. Woodward, and though I raged inside my head, I let my face show nothing but keen intellectual interest.

I confronted Archer in the hall after class.

"What the hell was that?"

"My compliment to your literary genius?"

"Stop it. We both know what you were talking about. What are you, jealous that I have other friends?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. I'm jealous. I'm jealous because I want to have as much fun laughing at people and excluding them as you do."

"I don't do that. We don't do that."

"Do you even talk to anyone who's not in your uber-popular little clique?"

"You're mad at me because you think I'm in a clique? Are you ever
not
hanging out with the Theater Geeks?"

"'The Theater Geeks'?" he balked. "Are you perchance referring to the group of close friends I've had for most of my life because we share a wealth of similar interests?"

"What makes you think I don't 'share a wealth of similar interests' with my friends, too?"

"Cara, I've gone to school with them forever, remember?"

"Which doesn't mean you know them! You don't hang out with them. You wouldn't, because then you'd have to step out of your own exclusive little clique."

"And why are you dating Eddie?" Archer asked. "How did you even get to know him? You never said two words to him, then all of a sudden you're tucked under his arm all the time and prancing around in step with all the other trophy girls. It's gross. It makes
you
seem gross."

"Oh, that's really nice," I said. "Why do you even care who I date? What does it matter to you?"

Archer lunged forward a little. "It—"

But whatever had tried to explode from his mouth didn't come out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pinching his mouth into a small, tight dot.

"It doesn't," he finally said. "It doesn't matter to me at all. We're late for class."

He walked away. I wanted to throw something and smack him in the back of the head, but I was pretty sure it would be a suspendable offense, and I didn't want to get grounded all over again. Stifling a scream, I turned the other way and stormed off toward precalc.

Yes, Eddie and I had started going out quickly. Yes, I'd barely known him when we'd started dating. And yes, lots of times it felt like I was more involved with Trista, Ree-Ree, Gemma, and Kristie than with Eddie, but so what? I was happy! Eddie was happy! Who cared about anything else?

I thought sitting in precalc behind Trista would make me feel more centered and together, but it didn't. Super LA Archer's voice kept bouncing around in my head and I couldn't stop questioning everything about my relationship with Eddie.

Was I with him
only
to be part of the Populazzi? I knew Claudia would say it didn't matter, but it did to me. Sure, I was climbing the Ladder, but I liked to think I was doing it with some integrity. I went after Archer because I
wanted
to go after Archer. And even though I turned myself inside out for Nate, I did it because I was crazily attracted to him. Plus I genuinely liked Nate ... at least for a while.

So what about Eddie? Well, I liked Eddie. He was a nice guy. No, we didn't have a major physical relationship, but that was on purpose. I
preferred
it.

But was that because I was being smart and cautious or because I didn't really feel strongly enough about Eddie that way? And if that was the case, was it fair to stay his girlfriend just to keep my place in the Populazzi?

"YES!" Claudia's voice shouted in my head ... but I wasn't entirely sure.

This was crazy. Of course I liked Eddie. I was letting stupid Archer worm his way into my head. Eddie was my boyfriend. We were great together, and tomorrow we'd prove it to the whole school at the winter formal. No one who saw us together would doubt for a second that we were among the most CHIW couples in the school.

I of course spent that night at Trista's, and she, Ree-Ree, Kristie, and I used all Saturday to get ready for the formal. Gemma called in on speakerphone just before the guys were due to pick us up. Trista had e-mailed her pictures of us in our dresses, and Gemma gave her full approval. She was in Barcelona and said the party scene was not to be believed.

"You girls have to travel with me sometime," she said. "It'll blow your mind."

I wondered if she was thinking of me as part of that traveling group. I hoped so.