The Diamonds (31 page)

We were in the science wing by the stairs, which were more or less deserted. There was a tiny alcove big enough for two people to fit—maybe even two people and a very thin midget—and we tucked ourselves inside.

“Hi,” he said.

“Are you okay? Tommy told me you were feeling really sick last night.”

He frowned. “Yeah. I think I had, like, a twenty-four-hour stomach bug or something. I'm fine, though.”

“Oh. Well, that's good.” I wrapped my arms around him. “I'm sorry you didn't feel well.” I leaned in to kiss him but he pulled away.

“You probably shouldn't kiss me,” he said. “I may still be contagious.”

I nodded. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I
asked in a silly voice, running my fingers up and down the scruff of his almost-beard. “I've missed you. About the other night—”

“Don't worry about it, Marni. It was my fault.” He looked me in the eyes and touched my forehead with his fingers. “Okay, so, I have to tell you something. But don't be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I dunno,” he said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Just don't be.”

“What is it?”

“Clarissa called me this morning, and—”

“Excuse me?”

“Calm down, Marni,” Anderson said, keeping his voice steady and even. “It's not a big deal.”

“It's
totally
a big deal. I hope you hung up on her.”

No answer.

“You
did
hang up on her, right?”

Anderson shook his head.

“I can't believe this,” I said, pushing past him, back into the hallway. “I can't believe you had a conversation with her after everything she's done to me. To
you
. It's unfathomable.”

“Will you just calm down?” Anderson said, snaking his arms around me. “John Schneider's grandfather died and he has to go to Connecticut tonight. He can't be in the fashion show, and she needed a replacement.”

“And?”

“I said no.”

Even though it was the answer I wanted to hear, it didn't make me happy. That Clarissa had the nerve to call Anderson after she'd ruined his life, well, it didn't surprise me. It was a total von Dyke move.

“You should do it,” I said to him after a few moments.

“I should?”

I would be the bigger person. I would
not
be a jealous girlfriend. “I don't like the fact that she called you, but we could use another Stonecutter behind enemy lines. You can help Jenny.”

“If you say so.” He kissed me again and winked. “Let's just hope Clarissa doesn't try to put the moves on me.”

I knew it was supposed to be a joke, but really, it wasn't very funny.

Fifteen minutes before
Passion 4 Fashion
was set to begin, I was in a bush, dressed in black, waiting behind the art wing until I could sneak into the auditorium and watch the Stonecutters’ masterpiece unfold.

8:46 Stepped on a twig and scared myself.

8:49 Bored.

8:50 Started singing Kelly Clarkson's “Breakaway” to entertain myself.

8:54 Finished singing “Breakway.”

8:54 Shivered.

8:55 Stepped on another twig and fell backward.

8:56 Repositioned myself in the bush and continued waiting.

8:58 Cried silently.

Just before I was about to head inside, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was Tommy.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, dragging him over to the building and hiding behind the wall facing away from the student parking lot.

“Whoa,” he said, out of breath. “You should, like, join the FBI or something. You're totally stealth.”

“Thanks,” I said. “So what
are
you doing here?”

“Keeping you company,” Tommy said. “Anderson told me he was gonna be in the show.”

“You talked to Anderson?”

“Yeah.” It was so dark I could barely make out Tommy's features. I waited for him to tell me that sending Anderson into the fashion show was a good idea, but he didn't. “You shouldn't be alone when it all goes down. It's much more fulfilling when you can share the glory with someone else who wants it, too.”

“I guess.” It would have been nicer to share that moment with Anderson, but Tommy was a fine runner-up. Since he'd helped me form the Stonecutters, I had come to appreciate his friendship.

“Should we go?”

Tommy listened to the wind for a few seconds. “We're good.”

Unexpectedly, he leaned over to give me a
good-luck kiss. (Only now have I come to realize that Tommy had no intention of planting a big wet one on my lips. It was merely the angle we were at, and the darkness, the awkward excitement of the night, that made me think otherwise.)

“What are you
doing?”
I whispered harshly, pushing him away.

“What?” he said. “I'm sorry. I meant to kiss you on the cheek. Don't be so touchy.”

In another time and place, I would've gotten into this with him. But there was no time. The fashion show was about to begin.

So I said, “Whatever,” and crawled around the side of the building. I heard Tommy's feet shuffle behind me, and then we were inside.

The Bennington School auditorium was the size of a small Broadway theater. Jed and Darcy were in the sound booth, which was at the back of the orchestra level. (One of Darcy's friends was on the AV squad and let them hook the Diamonds’ tapped conversation up to the house speakers. It would play on cue instead of the music.) Tommy and I were at the very top of the mezzanine level, enveloped in the shadows.

I don't think there was a single empty seat. Chatter filled the air, and I noticed a few people flipping through the programs; I squinted to see if anyone was reading the Stonecutters’ tell-all addendum. Why wasn't anyone reacting?

Then the house lights dimmed and the onstage
colors grew more and more intense, blanketing everything in a glossy sheen.

“Here we go,” said Tommy.

This was it. The moment when I would
finally
get the Diamonds back for all the pain and heartache they'd put me through. And not only me. The Stonecutters. The entire student body.

When they entered from the wings, there was an immediate silence. Clarissa was in a dress that clung to every curve of her body, as if it were made just for her. (I wouldn't have been surprised if it was.) Her hair bounced with every step she took. Priya and Lili followed, completing the Terrible Trio: Priya in a white minidress that showed off her turbocharged boobies, and Lili in something racy and blue that laced up the front and rested just above her knees. Just looking at their shoes made my feet hurt.

After their obviously choreographed prance, Clarissa stopped in the middle of the stage, Lili and Priya on either side of her. Arlene—in a plain black cocktail dress—poked her head out of the left wing and handed Clarissa a microphone.

“Testing,” Clarissa said, pressing the microphone to her lips. “Applaud if you can hear me.”

The applause was immediate and intense.

“You can stop now,” Clarissa said, and the auditorium became silent again. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Clarissa!”
someone—a boy—shouted from the back of the orchestra.

“You're
so
hot!”
another guy screamed.

Clarissa didn't change her demeanor whatsoever. I couldn't wait to see her when all the models flew down the runway in T-shirts with her face ironed onto them. It would be the best moment of my life. Well, one of the best. Informing the entire audience that the Diamonds had fixed the mock trial jury would be pretty great, too.

Priya leaned into the microphone. “I'm not wearing any underwear.”

Clarissa smacked her. “Welcome, everyone, to the
Passion for Fashion
show!” The crowd broke into applause for the second time. A few people even whistled. “We have a very special evening planned for you. Our models will be presenting the most exquisite clothing in the tristate area for your enjoyment, all to benefit one of the most important causes of our time: the plight of the homeless trannies. Here to speak about these individuals is your student body president, Lili Chan-Mohego.”

Clarissa transferred the microphone to Lili. “Thank you, Clarissa. For those of you who do not know, homeless trannies are discriminated against
double
the amount of regular homeless people and regular trannies.” Someone gasped. “Which is why we are proud to donate the proceeds of
Passion for Fashion
to those in need.”

There was, for the third time, applause, and Priya grabbed the microphone in what seemed like an unplanned coup. “Wear your fishnets loud and proud, trannies! May you all find homes!”

“Priya, you're freaking hot!”
someone yelled.

Lili took back the microphone before Priya had a chance to respond. “Without further ado,” she said, “the Diamonds bring you the first-ever Bennington School fashion extravaganza!”

The first clue that the Stonecutters’ plan was not working came merely seconds later. Instead of music playing, there was supposed to be an awkward amount of silence during which, we'd imagined, Clarissa and the Diamonds would be running around backstage, clueless about where all the clothing was. Then, suddenly, Boyd—who was hiding, of course—would reveal the garment bags filled with the T-shirts we'd made. The models would slip them on without thinking as Clarissa pushed them onstage one by one, blinded by the backstage frenzy.

That is
not
what happened.

As soon as the Diamonds made their exit, Rihanna came blasting through the speakers, and the first pair of models walked down the runway in designer clothes.

I turned to Tommy. “What's going on?”

The theme was day wear, and model after model—please keep in mind that the “models” were Bennington students, girls Clarissa had bribed into servitude, which made the entire event doubly nauseating—covered the stage in overly expensive jeans and skimpy tops. Where were the T-shirts? Where was the voice-over of Clarissa admitting the Diamonds’ crimes?

Soon I found myself watching Anderson glide
down the runway, looking impeccable and confident and irresistible. I expected people to boo him off the stage, quite honestly, but there was a surprising amount of applause. For the first time in a few weeks, he looked
happy
.

“Maybe they decided to wait,” Tommy said. He must have sensed I was about to make a break for it. “You know, until the end. Make it the grand finale.”

It was an entertaining idea, but I still couldn't understand why the plan had been changed without my knowledge. Or Tommy's.

“Give it a few more minutes,” he said. “I'm sure everything will be fine.”

Fifteen minutes later, I couldn't take it anymore. I'd had enough.

“Let me see that,” I said, snatching a girl's program out of her hands. (I didn't recognize her and assumed she was a freshman.)

“What are you doing?” asked Tommy.

It was extremely difficult to open the program—my hands were shaking—but I made my way through each and every page. The slip of paper that was supposed to have been inserted by Turbo and Jed earlier that day, the one describing Clarissa and the Diamonds’ crimes, the one that would
spawn
a
revolution
, was absent. Missing.

I wanted to scream.

Just then, the music changed from upbeat to romantic. Time for evening wear. Jenny was the first model, in
a gown right out of
Cinderella
(Perrault, 1697)—pearly white, with iridescent beads and Swarovski crystals clinging to the satin. When she reached the tip of the runway and posed, something incredible happened: in less than a second, the entire dress flew off her body like a two-year-old down a playground slide. Suddenly, Jenny was naked (except for her underwear) in front of the entire auditorium. You could hear laughter, shock, and awe all at once, masked only by the beat of the soundtrack.

As quickly as she had appeared, Jenny ran out of the auditorium as if she were being chased, crying and leaving the fallen dress behind. (The girl behind her, Elizabeth Kelp, wound up dragging the gown like a too-heavy bag offstage.)

I looked at Tommy, and he looked at me.

We both mouthed one word:
Clarissa
.

There was no way that was an accident—not when we'd been trying to sabotage the Diamonds ourselves. It immediately made sense why they had cast Jenny in the first place—somehow, they had known
why
she was auditioning, and had every intention of embarrassing her during the show—and why nothing the entire evening had gone as planned.

The Diamonds had succeeded.

The Stonecutters had failed.

And somewhere in our midst was a traitor.