The Ivy: Rivals (22 page)

“Er . . .” Callie said, wondering how Vanessa’s mother could fail to notice the way her daughter’s shoulders had slumped while she stared miserably at her plate. “Stress?”

Behind her mother’s back Vanessa began to eat the cake in huge forkfuls.

“Nonsense, dear, don’t be shy,” Mrs. Von Vorhees prodded. “Surely you must do some form of exercise to look the way you do.”

“Yes,” said Callie, thinking of the hours she’d been spending on the treadmill, particularly this past week, until her knee felt like it would explode. “I like to
run
. . . .”

“. . . from my problems,” she added under her breath. Across the table Gregory smirked, even though he appeared to be fully engaged in a discussion with the Robinsons.

“Maybe one day you could drag Vee with you?” Mrs. Von Vorhees suggested. “I think she would enjoy the exercise if she ever gave it a chance.”

Shoving her now empty plate away, Vanessa stood. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she announced.

“I’ll have to excuse myself, too,” Gregory said suddenly, grabbing his phone. “See what’s happening with my dad. . . .”

“Send my regards to Trisha!” Mrs. Von Vorhees called after him—Trisha being, presumably, the stepmother. “She’s really very naturally pretty,” she added, nodding at Vanessa’s retreating back when she and Callie were virtually alone. “If she would only take better care of herself . . . Spend a little less time shopping and a little more at the gym . . .”

Callie was silent.

“I know you think I’m being hard on her,” Mrs. Von Vorhees continued, “but I’m only telling her the things that I wish somebody had told me when I was her age. Why, even that Dana girl has a boyfriend, and I worry—”

“Vanessa has a boyfriend,” Callie interjected, confused.

“She—she does?” Mrs. Von Vorhees asked.

Whoops. Looks like the fact that she and Callie were no longer “besties” wasn’t the only thing
Vee
had been keeping secret.

“She didn’t tell you?” Callie asked.

“No,” said Mrs. Von Vorhees, her delight seeming to only slightly outweigh her hurt. “What’s his name? Is it serious?”

“I’m not sure how serious it is,” Callie said, “but his name’s Tyler Green, and he’s one of Clint’s roommates.”

“Tyler Green; Tyler Green,” Mrs. Von Vorhees repeated, and Callie got the distinct impression that she was memorizing it for the purposes of Googling him later: like mother, like daughter. “The two of you, dating the two of them—well, isn’t that lovely!”

Oh yeah,
real
lovely.

“Could you—could you not mention to Vanessa that I told you?” Callie entreated Mrs. Von Vorhees. “She probably, er, wants to surprise you when she’s ready.”

“Certainly, dear; it’ll be our little secret.”

Good.

“Though I do sometimes worry about the sort of things that she’s been hiding from me . . .” Mrs. Von Vorhees mused.

Sounds like maybe you should be, Callie thought. Suddenly she felt incredibly grateful for her parents. While there were certainly things that she could never in a million years confide in them (i.e., a certain X-rated tape: definitely due in part to the fact that her dad would go to jail for murdering Evan), she still kept them reasonably informed, and knew she could always go to them with a problem and expect them to be supportive instead of tearing her down.

Finding her dad’s hand under the table, she squeezed it and he squeezed back.

“It’s just been so hard on her these past few months,” Mrs. Von Vorhees said with a sigh. “What with her father moving out and now the divorce proceedings underway.”

Callie nearly choked on her dessert. “Wh—what?”

“I know that maybe this isn’t the proper place, but I just wanted to thank you for being here for her this year. It’s nice to know she has a friend she can count on while her father’s off doing—things that are inappropriate to say at the dinner table.”

Callie’s eyes were wide with shock.

“I shouldn’t have said that!” Mrs. Von Vorhees muttered, looking around to make sure no one had heard. “I’m sorry. You will look out for her, though, won’t you?”

Callie nodded. Her stomach plummeted while she replayed every nasty thing she’d said to Vanessa up until the moment she’d found her crying on the bathroom floor, when Callie had assumed the problem was Tyler-related instead of something much, much bigger.

“I’ll do the best I can,” she promised Vanessa’s mother as both Gregory and Vanessa reentered the dining hall. “My parents are divorced, too, you know,” she added in a whisper. “Almost five years now.”

“Really?” asked Mrs. Von Vorhees, giving Callie’s father another appraising glance.

“They’re still completely obsessed with each other,” Callie added hastily. It wasn’t a total lie: her mom had been known to e-mail, and now to call, her father frequently in matters where their
baby
was concerned.

“Hmm . . .” Mrs. Von Vorhees murmured. “Sweetheart, are you feeling all right?” she added to Vanessa, who had just plopped back into her chair looking pale-faced and sick.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Can we please get out of here now?”

“Well, I was so looking forward to catching up with Trish,” Mrs. Von Vorhees said reluctantly, eyeing Gregory. “She’s missed the last two Committee meetings. . . .”

“I just spoke with them,” Gregory said. “Unfortunately it looks like they won’t be able to make it after all.”

“Oh, how tragic,” Mrs. Von Vorhees replied. “Well, next time you speak with her, would you mind mentioning that we haven’t received her checks for the past two months either? I wouldn’t ask, but it’s for The
Children
,” she finished.

“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” said Gregory, standing although he’d only just sat down. “I should get going, too. So nice to meet you, Mrs. Von Vorhees. And you as well, Dr. Andrews—Thomas,” he added, shaking his hand again.

“A real pleasure, Gregory,” her father said.

After cappuccinos and more small talk among the roommates’ parents, the dinner finally drew to a close.

“That’s a great group of friends you’ve got back there, Calbear,” her father said as he and Callie wound their way back to Wigglesworth. “Dana seems like she’s got a good head on her shoulders and Matthew . . . and that Gregory!”

“Yeah,” said Callie. That Gregory. He’d put on a pretty good show for the grown-ups, but she’d still detected hints of his bad mood at several points during dinner. Maybe when the weekend was over she’d finally have a chance to ask him—as a friend—if something was wrong.

“And the other two—the foreign ones—they’re hilarious. Renee, that little one’s older sister, seems particularly impressive. . . .”

“Mimi’s impressive, too,” Callie said defensively.

“They were
all
impressive,” her dad agreed. “I had no idea that you and Vanessa were so close!”

You and me both.

“You must be tired,” he added, watching her yawn.

“Kind of,” she admitted. “But I’m going to try to cram in some work before bedtime.”

“On a Saturday night?” he asked.

Welcome to my life. “Yeah, well, you know, there’s only one week left until spring break so . . .” She shrugged.

“Proud of you, kiddo,” he said, mussing up her hair.

“Proud of you, too, Dad,” she mumbled back, throwing her arms around his waist with such force that he stumbled backward.

“Whoa,” he said with a laugh. “If I’d known you missed me so much, I would have visited sooner!”

“’Course I miss you,” she mumbled. “Every day. Mom, too.”

“Speak of the devil, I think she’s calling me right now. . . . Uh-oh, looks like the third time tonight. I’d better take this,” he said. “See you tomorrow morning?”

“Yep!”

“Theresa?” he said into his phone, wandering away. “Yes, hi. . . . Fine. . . . How are you? . . . Yes, I remembered to ask about the boyfriend. . . . No, I did not get a picture. . . . Yes, I remembered how to work the button. . . . No, nothing embarrassing . . .”

Callie laughed and shook her head before opening the door to her entryway. “Tell her I love her and that I’ll call her tomorrow!” she yelled after him. Turning, her dad waved. Then he disappeared down the stone path that led out onto Massachusetts Avenue.

When Callie reached the common room, Mimi and Dana were already inside. Mimi lay sprawled across the couch with one arm thrown over her forehead like she had just survived a war, and even Dana looked a little shell-shocked from where she sat in the overstuffed armchair.

“
Mon dieu
, what a nightmare,” Mimi muttered, letting forth a gigantic sigh.

“You might say it was a bit . . . intense,” Dana agreed, whose parents had spent the entire dinner giving Adam the third degree and reminding them of the promise they had “made to God, their parents, and themselves.”

“At least I will not be seeing Mama or Renee again until the wedding,” Mimi consoled herself. “That is, if
my
wedding does not happen first. . . .”

“What?” asked Callie.

“Didn’t you hear?” asked Dana, looking reproachfully at Mimi. “Mimi and OK are engaged.”

“It was a
joke
,” Mimi insisted, sitting up. “
Elles ne voulaient pas se taire au sujet de mariage de Renee! De plus, si il y avait une chose
,” she cried, holding up one finger, “
que je pensais que je pouvais compter sur de ma mère, c’était son racisme! Mais non
,” she exclaimed, throwing herself back down on the couch. “
Même qui m’a manqué aujourd’hui. J’ai sous-estimé la capacité de ma mère au sens où la royauté est dans la salle. Il s’agit d’un sixième sens avec elle
!”

“What . . .” Callie began.

“We are considering a winter ceremony,” Mimi said dolefully, covering her eyes with her hands. “After Renee’s in June,
bien sûr
!”

“Well,” said Dana. “I should think you learned your lesson: that
lying
can seriously backfire.”

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” Callie asked, giggling.

“
Oui
,” said Mimi. “If I do not suicide first.”

At that moment the door to the common room opened and Vanessa stepped inside.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, looking from Mimi to Dana.

“Vanessa!” Callie cried. “You’re home!” The other two froze. It was the first time in months they had seen one of them issue the other a friendly greeting. “I was hoping that—”

“Don’t,” Vanessa warned.

Callie frowned. She had no intention of raising the topic of divorce in front of the others, trying merely to suggest that they go somewhere private to chat. After all, she’d made a promise to Vanessa’s mother that she planned to keep. “Well, maybe later if you want, we could talk—”

“I
said
DON’T!” Vanessa yelled suddenly, whirling wildly toward Callie. “Whatever you’re going to say—DON’T. I don’t care. I
hate
you!”

“Vanessa, I—”

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Vanessa screamed so loudly that the windows rattled.

Mimi and Dana stayed completely still, looking terrified.

“JUST STAY AWAY FROM ME, OKAY?” Vanessa cried even louder, only inches from Callie’s face. “STAY-THE-HELL-AWAY!” And then, she pushed her.

“What the—” Callie exclaimed, stumbling. She didn’t fall, but her arms flew to the spot where Vanessa had touched her. “FINE!” Callie erupted. “That’s just FINE!”

Mimi and Dana watched both of them run into their respective rooms, followed by two thunderous
SLAMS
. The girls were quiet for a second, and then Dana turned to Mimi.

“Something needs to be done about this,” she said.

“
Oui
,” Mimi agreed. “It does.”

Chapter Thirteen
Lace, Leather, and Handcuffs

The Hasty Pudding Social Club

invites its members and their friends

for a night of true

DEBAUCHERY

The One • The Only • The Annual

LEATHER & LACE

Thursday, March 24
^th
at 10
P.M.

Leather and lace required.

Whips and mesh encouraged.

By Invitation Only

“C
aaaaalleeeeee . . .”
Mimi’s disembodied voice called from the common room.
“Viens ici, s’il vous plait!”

“Just a minute!” Callie cried, tucking her white cotton tee into the high-waisted leather skirt she had borrowed from her roommate for the Pudding’s infamous S & M–themed party, “Leather & Lace.” Then for good measure she donned a chunky necklace (also Mimi’s) made of black ribbons and leather beads. Tomorrow afternoon she, Mimi, and—unfortunately—Vanessa would all be flying, along with most of the rest of the Pudding and several of the other Final Clubs, down to a resort on the tiny island of Vieques, just off the coast of Puerto Rico. Tonight, therefore, she was determined to a) find Clint and force a reconciliation; and b) look good while doing it.

He’d had nearly two weeks to think things over. . . . The party would be the perfect place for them to make up, and make out, so that by this time tomorrow they’d be sitting on a beach laughing and drinking mai tais.

At the last second, on sudden inspiration, she traded Mimi’s necklace for the silver one with the heart-shaped pendant that Clint had given her. Much to her surprise, she’d found it yesterday while de-cluttering the top of her bureau, and had in fact almost thrown it out, believing the tiny blue box to be empty until it rattled on its way to the trash. She felt a rush of confidence as she secured the chain around her neck: surely, just like the necklace, not all was lost, and maybe tonight it would be the good luck charm she needed to bring Clint back to her.

“Okay, I’m ready!” she announced, strolling into the common room. Mimi stood near the door in skin-tight, red leather pants, a studded belt, and a black mesh T-shirt that showed off her nonexistent tummy. She wore black leather cuffs on both wrists and was holding a whip and a pair of handcuffs (real metal ones, not the pink fuzzy kind). Vanessa hovered in front of their full-length mirror, surveying her figure in a lacy black and white corset dress over fishnet stockings that looked straight out of the Very Sexy section of Victoria’s Secret.

She and Callie eyed each other warily.

Just then Dana popped out of her bedroom holding a digital camera. “I have an idea!” she said brightly. “Why don’t I take a picture of the three of you before you head out to your night of, um, debauchery?”

Callie stared at her. But before she could fully process the absence of disapproving glares and muttered prayers, Mimi cried, “
C’est une excellente idée!
Everyone together now, squish, squish,” she continued, looping her arm through Callie’s and grabbing Vanessa by the elbow.

“Great,” said Dana, holding up the camera. “Now if you could all three just hold hands—that’s it, but a little closer now—”

“What the—” started Vanessa.

“Hey!” Callie cried.

“Say cheese!” Dana yelled.

“Voilà!”
Mimi screamed as the flash went off, leaping back.

Callie tried to go left and Vanessa moved right but, just as they’d feared—

“HANDCUFFS?” Vanessa looked murderous. “You HANDCUFFED me to
her
!?”

“Okay, ha-ha,” said Callie, trying to remain calm. “You got us! Now unlock these, please.”

Mimi shook her head.

“
Marine Clément
,” Vanessa started, jerking her wrist.

“OW!” Callie yelled. The metal chafed. “Watch it—that hurt!”

“If you don’t undo these, right this minute,” Vanessa continued, ignoring her, “then I am personally. Going. TO KILL YOU!”

“Actually,” said Dana, stepping forward, “it was my idea.”

Mimi nodded. “We are tired of living like this. Your stress is becoming our stress, and we have enough of
le stress
without
votre combat stupide
. We will not unlock you until you are friends again.”

“Or at least civil,” Dana amended.

“Yes, civil,” Mimi agreed. “If you cannot learn to be nice and live together . . .
Eh bien
, you will learn the true meaning of living together.
Forever
.”

“All right,” said Vanessa, “we get the point. We’re very sorry, and we’ll try not to yell anymore . . . now
please
unlock us.”

“Not good enough,” said Dana, looking at Mimi.

“
Oui
,” said Mimi. “You need to make up and kiss and say you were wrong and then swear
sur le statue de John Harvard
never to be so irritating again.”

“This is RIDICULOUS!” Vanessa erupted. “You’re making me late to my very first Pudding party as a member!”

“OW!” Callie cried as Vanessa gestured wildly and, once again, tugged her wrist. “Guys, seriously, we understand why you’re upset and we are really sorry that we’ve been difficult to live with these past few months—”

“Thank you for the apology,” Dana said graciously, “but what we really want is for you to apologize to each other.”

Vanessa groaned.

“And if you do not,” Mimi cut in, checking her watch, “by the time we are getting on the plane tomorrow, then I will eat the key and it will be lost.
Forever
.”

Dana shifted. “She’s not actually going to—”

“I will eat it,” Mimi repeated.

“Okay, then,” said Dana. “I’ll be right back.”

In a moment she returned with a stack of papers in her hand, lugging her desk chair behind her. Then she cleared her throat. “I’ve been doing some online research on mediation—”

“Of course you have,” Vanessa muttered.

“And to start,” said Dana, speaking a little louder, “we need to organize ourselves in a circle,” she said, motioning Mimi to orient the armchair so that it was facing where Callie and Vanessa were standing in front of the couch.

“Ooh,” said Mimi, “this is just like what happened right before I went to the facility in Switzerland!
Maintenant
the first step we need you to take is to admit that you have a problem.”

“I think we’re past that stage,” Dana said, referencing her notes. “Perhaps we should start with this one. . . .”

Mimi shrugged.

“All right,” said Dana. “Now I want you each to write down one negative thing and one positive thing about the other, and then we’ll put them into a hat—”

“How do you expect us to write when we’re handcuffed together?” Callie asked, raising her right arm and dragging Vanessa’s left with her.

“Oh. I see your point. Well, it
says
we need to write them down,” said Dana. “But I guess we could say them aloud?”

“Unlock me.
Now
,” Vanessa demanded from where she had sunk onto the couch. “I’m not kidding. Right now.”

“Vanessa, thank you for volunteering,” said Dana. “Please say one negative thing and one positive thing about Callie.”

Vanessa thought for a moment. “My mother always said that if you don’t have something nice to say, then shut your damn mouth!”

“Vanessa . . .” Dana said warningly.

“No,” Vanessa interrupted. “This is bullshit. How do you expect me to say something nice about her when she wrote an entire article full of negative crap about me?”

“I told you,” Callie interjected, “that I was just venting after
you
completely trashed my bedroom, not to mention falsely accusing me of stealing, and that the article was never meant to be published!”

“It’s not just about the stupid article, okay?” Vanessa yelled back. “It’s
everything
! Ditching me on my birthday, doing you-know-what with you-know-who at Harvard-Yale, and every other terrible thing you’ve done!” Vanessa had grown hysterical and suddenly seemed on the verge of tears. “All the bad stuff that’s happened this year is
all
your fault . . . because you’re a
bad friend
!”

Callie was quiet. “So: Harvard-Yale and the Pudding . . .” she said finally. “Is that what this is really about, Vanessa?”

“Of course that’s what this is about!” she snapped, her lower lip trembling.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing else . . . that’s upsetting you?” Callie prompted gently.

“That’s it!” Vanessa cried, standing and forcing Callie to stand with her. “I am so out of here. No way am I going to sit through this,” she said, addressing Mimi and Dana, “and let
her
take away my first party the way she’s taken away everything else!”

“And how exactly do you propose that we—OW!” Callie cried for the third time that night, realizing that Vanessa was dragging her toward the door. “Dammit—stop—or at least slow down—”

“No!” cried Vanessa, grabbing her jacket with her free hand. “
You
keep up!” And with that she flounced out of the room, leaving Callie barely enough time to snatch her own coat before the door banged shut behind them.

Dana and Mimi exchanged a hopeless glance. “I will pray for you,” Dana said solemnly, handing her the packet of mediation materials.

Mimi nodded and accepted the papers before reaching for her coat.

“Don’t forget the stuff about role-playing on page three,” Dana called when she was near the door.

Turning, Mimi raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know what I meant!” Dana snapped, flushing.

Mimi grinned and cracked her whip. “
Souhaitez-moi bonne chance
!”

“Good luck,” Dana called after her. “You’re going to need it.”

Strobe lights flashed and techno music pounded out on the darkened dance floor in the dining room of the Pudding. “Will you quit—” Callie cried, stumbling past OK in mesh and short-shorts and Mimi, who were dancing with Marcus: resplendent in ass-less chaps which were not, believe it or not, the most outrageous outfit that evening.
“Ah!”
Callie cried, tripping again as Vanessa dragged her off the dance floor and over to the bar. Vanessa simply rolled her eyes and ordered another drink.

“Triple V!” a voice cried from behind them.

“Penny!” Vanessa yelled back, enveloping Penelope Vandemeer in an enormous hug—as she’d been doing with all the new members since they’d arrived.

Callie sighed and braced herself for another shrieking fest. Whether it was because Vanessa had her dominant right hand free or because Callie felt guilty about her parents’ divorce, Vanessa had been running the show so far: forcing Callie to play the part of miserable sidekick.

Callie took a deep, calming breath, waiting for a lull in the conversation. “Can we just go somewhere quiet and talk for a sec—”

“Oh-em-gee, I’m totes bummed that you’re not coming to PR!” Vanessa yelped to Penelope, completely ignoring her.

“Oh, I
know
,” the girl replied. “Are you going, Callie?” she asked.

“Does it look like we have a choice?” Vanessa chirped ruefully, holding up their hands.

“Taking the theme a little too seriously?” Penelope asked.

“Something like that,” Vanessa said with a loud, fake laugh. “Anyway, if you see Mimi holding a key of any kind, be sure to steal it?”

“Okay!” said Penelope. “You guys are a riot.” She shook her head. “I’ll see you later.”

“Tootles!” Vanessa cried.

“Vanessa,” said Callie, “Please, slow down and—”

“Brittney!” Vanessa screamed.

“Hi, girls!” she said, coming over. “Wow,” she added, spying the handcuffs. “That really gives new meaning to the term ‘best friends
forever
’ doesn’t it!?”

“HA!” exclaimed Vanessa.

“I should have figured you two would be
literally
attached at the hip”—no,
literally
attached at the wrists, actually, thought Callie, and wow, you literally don’t know what
literally
means—“after your speech the other night, Cal,” Brittney finished.

“What speech?” said Vanessa, narrowing her eyes.

“Nothing,” Callie cut in. “There was no speech!”

“Oh, stop!” said Brittney. “She must have told you how she threatened to quit if we didn’t vote you into the club, right? She basically
chained
herself to your membership,” she added, seeming pleased with her pun. “Like one of those dirty tree people do with the rain forest.”

Vanessa, whose jaw still hung slack, said nothing.

“Brittney, I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about anything that happens during election proceedings,” said Callie. And with good reason: for nearly no one—including those who were voted in—escaped some form of open criticism or nasty anonymous commentary, which is why in the olden days of paper and ink all the clubs burned their punch books.

“Oh, whatever,” said Brittney, waving her hand. “It’s not like I published the punch book or anything! Anyway,” she continued. “I’m off to the ladies’ room, but if I don’t run into you again tonight, then I’ll see you on spring break!”

“Spring break,
whoo-hoo
!” said Callie, which seemed to be the appropriate response even though her enthusiasm about being trapped on a tiny island with everyone was dwindling by the minute.

Vanessa’s lips were pressed together tight. The music swelled around them and the lights flickered nauseatingly. A moment passed, and then two, and then finally she turned to her roommate. “Callie,” she started, “what—”

“Callie,” someone else said from behind them with a slightly southern lilt.

Clint, of course.

“Hi,” said Callie, her left hand flying to her hair.

“Could we talk?” he asked. “Somewhere private.”

“Um,” she said, raising her right hand. “That’s going to be a bit of a problem.”

Clint did not look amused. “Maybe you two might consider unlocking those for a minute so we could have a grown-up conversation?”

Callie stared at him. It’s not like I
chose
this!

“Mimi did this to us against our will,” Vanessa volunteered. “To get us to stop fighting.”