The Ivy: Rivals (26 page)
Authors: Lauren Kunze
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Friendship, #Dating & Sex, #School & Education
“I said I was sorry,” Clint repeated. He did look sorry. But he also seemed to be tiring of saying it, on the brink of snapping that she wasn’t exactly innocent either—or maybe that was just the black eye reminding her who had given it to him and why. Although why
exactly
still remained unclear . . . Gregory had obviously thought she and Clint were still together and that he was defending her honor. Maybe that’s just what he did: randomly punching people like James Hoffmeyer for groping Vanessa and now Clint for cheating—or so he thought—in public.
“Why did you lie?” she asked finally. “When I read your e-mails, I mean. Why not just explain everything then?”
“At that point I wasn’t sure. I thought perhaps there was a chance that we could still work things out. And I figured that if I told you the truth, it would destroy that chance. It was selfish but . . .” He shrugged.
“I understand,” she said shortly. And she did. After all, she too had kept secrets for similar reasons.
“Thanks,” he said as she stood. “And thanks for listening.”
Wordlessly, they began to walk back to her villa. When they were almost there, Clint added, “Maybe now we can . . . well, you know, one day . . .”
Callie rounded on him. “I understand why you lied,” she repeated, “and maybe even why you did what you did. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you or that I’m interested in being friends.”
Grimly Clint nodded. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way then for the rest . . . of the trip.”
“Likewise,” she said civilly, her hand poised above the handle on the sliding door. “Oh, and Clint?” she called as he turned to walk away.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say that . . . I wish you—
both
of you—the best.”
Before he could respond, she stepped inside, pulling the glass and then the curtain shut behind her. With a tiny smile on her face she crept back to her bed, careful not to wake Vanessa, who had returned at some point in her absence. Wishing Clint and Lexi well had been rather mature, Callie decided. Especially because she had meant every word: for if they successfully reunited, she could imagine no greater punishment for Clint than having Lexi as a girlfriend.
And thus utterly exhausted, Callie crawled back into bed, where she sank, almost immediately, into a mercifully dreamless sleep.
From:
Callie Andrews
To:
Jessica Marie Stanley
Subject: Spring Nightmare: DAY TWO
Dear my beloved and bestest long-lost friend,
So I know I promised to call the second we landed on the island, but nobody has cell service
anywhere
. (Trust me, if it was possible, Vanessa would have figured it out by now—this morning I caught her with her iPhone literally trying to climb a palm tree!). Anyway, the resort is so isolated except for over a hundred Harvard people and a few random vacationers that it’s feeling a bit like
Lost
, only instead of crashing on a deserted island I actually
chose
to be here. (What was I thinking!? I should have taken Dana up on her offer to go build a church in South America with Habitat for Humanity. Local guerilla warfare probably would have been safer than this.)
Why so miserable in “paradise,” you ask?
Well, I have now not only been dumped but also humiliated—and in a very public manner. (Wait: are you noticing a trend here?!?) Last night Mimi and Vanessa dragged me to the one bar on the island (yes, you read that right, there is only
one
), where I saw Clint making out with The Bitch from Hell (i.e., Alexis Thorndike). Long story short: my previous suspicions involving the necklace/cheating incident have been confirmed, and Gregory, who I guess thought Clint and I were still together, punched Clint in the face because of what can only be described as a damsel-in-distress complex and is not, I repeat
not
specific to me, as you’ll recall the night he also saved Vanessa by punching some dude in the face—though maybe it’s just the punching, and not the saving part, that he likes. But I digress . . .
WAIT! Before you write back saying “OMG, HE LOVES YOU!!!” or threatening to make T-shirts that say
TEAM GREGORY
(which, please, you’ve got to stop doing, because there are no “teams”—this is my
life
!), first let me tell you what happened next.
In the morning after I talked to Clint (who shall henceforth be referred to as That Lying, Cheating Bastard—doesn’t that sound nice and dramatic and very nineteenth-century?) and he apologized/confessed(
/whatever
, moving on), I wanted to avoid the pool, and the beach, and pretty much every other human being on the island, so I grabbed a book and climbed into the hammock between our villa and the one next door. I must have been there for less than twenty minutes when Gregory came—
holding the same book
(I mean, duh, we’re in the same class, not really a coincidence)—and almost leaped into the hammock on top of me before he realized I was there. I will try to write what happened next like a scene so you get a sense.
GREGORY: Oh, hey, sorry. Didn’t realize someone was in there.
CALLIE: No worries. Oh, wow, your lip . . . Are you okay?
GREGORY (
gruffly, swatting away the hand that yours truly hadn’t even realized she’d been reaching out as if to touch his face
): I’m fine.
CALLIE: Fine, okay. Um . . . Thanks?
GREGORY: For what?
CALLIE: For last night.
GREGORY (
looking uncharacteristically embarrassed
): I didn’t realize that you two had broken up. . . . Otherwise I wouldn’t have . . . (
Runs hands through luscious, luscious dark brown hair, which, if I may digress again for a moment, is basically— Oh, wait. Okay, sorry. So he runs hands through hair, looking all tormented
) I really shouldn’t have . . .
CALLIE (
quietly, trying—and probably failing miserably—to strike an attractive angle while lying awkwardly in the hammock
): Well, I’m glad you did. I mean, not that I wanted you to get hurt—either of you . . . well, maybe Clint a little. He did cheat on me. Not last night but before . . .
GREGORY: I wish I could say that surprises me, but from everything I know about their relationship . . . It seemed like one of those “can’t live with you, can’t live without you” type of things. She’s addicted to torturing him, and he’s addicted to the pain. They both feed on the drama and the crazy, even though they sometimes pretend otherwise. . . . (
Shrugs. Looks embarrassed again: perhaps for speaking at such great length about relationships; perhaps just for speaking at such great length about anything.
)
CALLIE: Maybe you’re right. Anyway (
picking up book, very smooth, very cool
), I’m glad that it’s over. He wasn’t right for me. He seemed right, but in the end it was all wrong. Isn’t that funny? How wrong you can be about what you think is right for you and how wrong can sometimes be—(
About to pull off very suave commentary full of subconscious—okay, maybe slightly conscious—meaning when loses balance in hammock. Hammock twists. Occupant does not fall—but book is not so lucky.
)
GREGORY (
picking up book
): I should go. (
Does not move. Very contrary—very typical.
)
CALLIE: Oh?
GREGORY: Alessandra . . . wouldn’t like it if she knew I was talking to you. Alone. Like this.
CALLIE: Well, it’s not up to her to control who your friends are, is it?! (
cries indignantly, yet secretly aware is “pulling a Clint,” i.e., using foolproof logic to justify complete sketchiness.
)
Long pause while GREGORY thinks and CALLIE wishes she could read minds.
GREGORY (
slowly shakes head
): I meant what I said in the library, about wanting to be your friend . . . But I guess maybe I always knew that it was never . . . that we could never really be just . . .
CALLIE
sits on hands in hammock to avoid shaking the ends of his sentences out of him. Hands start to incur funny hammock-string-shaped prints. Suspects funny prints are probably unattractive, thus, continues to sit on hands.
GREGORY (
continuing
): Anyway, Alessandra has been jealous ever since she found out about Harvard-Yale—
CALLIE (
almost toppling out of hammock again—mortification, total
): Wait—she knows, too?!
GREGORY: Yes. Ever since she went through my phone.
CALLIE: Your phone?
GREGORY: Yes. Like I said, she found some text messages that I . . . Oh. It’s not important. She got over it when I promised there was nothing going on and that there was zero chance of anything happening in the future. Except that now, after last night, she thinks . . .
CALLIE: That you’re all obsessed with me again?
GREGORY: Again? (
Laughs—very loud, very obnoxious. Granted, word choice with “obsessed” may have been a bit bold. Whatevs.
)
CALLIE: You know what I meant!
GREGORY: Yeah. (
Devastating smile. Heroine manages to stay in hammock, just barely.
) I really should go.
CALLIE: So that’s it, then? Not even friends?
GREGORY: (
shaking his head
) I was kidding myself to think I ever could be. Your friend.
Exit: stage pool-side. Director’s note: whoever shall play GREGORY must play him shirtless for authenticity. (Did I mention the part where he is shirtless the entire time?)
So! I should probably stick to journalism rather than play writing for the future, eh? But anyway, you get the gist. So now, as you can see, I’ve gone from what you kept insisting was a “love triangle” (it wasn’t, because I chose Clint, and Gregory was never even a real option!) to a big love ZERO. I can’t even claim either of them as friends. Oh well. Maybe it’s what I deserve.
Okay, now you are fully updated, and it is time for me to stop obsessing and hiding in the villa and go back to hiding in the hammock! I will keep you posted on any further developments, though there shouldn’t be any, since I plan to stay on villa-hammock rotation for the remainder of the week.
Miss you miss you MISS YOU SO MUCH, love you, and I wish our breaks were at the same time!
Cal (Not Ripken Jr.)
From:
Callie Andrews
To:
Jessica Marie Stanley
Subject: Spring Nightmare: DAY FOUR
Jess!
Things are definitely looking up! 1) My skin is less translucent than when we arrived (can’t actually see the veins anymore—a miracle!); 2) No one has punched anyone else that I know of; 3) In my efforts to avoid the majority of my classmates I have talked the other occupants of Villa Whale into doing some pretty amazing* cultural things!
Overall, I am starting to feel
much
more relaxed: almost like this is an actual vacation and not some form of self-inflicted torture! Or severance package—for getting dumped.
I can picture the exact look on your face right now as you shake your head and shout “Culture shmulture—let’s get to the good stuff!” And so, before you reply to this e-mail insisting that I “stop holding back” and fill you in on “all the
drama
,” I’ll see what I can do here. . . .
There has definitely been a lot of tension between the upper- and underclassmen. It is tough to keep track of who is avoiding who. Clint, as promised, is staying away from me, and I have yet to witness any further disturbing PDA between him and Alexis Thorndike (you were right in your last e-mail, BTW: she does not need any more nicknames, as Thorndike just sounds inherently evil!). But Clint also seems to be avoiding Gregory, or maybe it’s the other way around, and by extension, Alessandra is avoiding all the juniors, too, and the freshmen, or me at least, and Vanessa and Tyler seem to be going out of their way to run into each other so they can yell at each other about avoiding each other and accuse each other of orchestrating the interaction on purpose. It’s all very confusing.
Last night, for example, the juniors and seniors had a barbecue at Villa Seashell, so we (most of the freshmen and some of the sophomores) went to Vick’s for what turned out to be Karaoke night. I actually sang a song with Vanessa (I guess that answers your question about whether or not we’ve been “hitting the bottle”), but luckily we only embarrassed ourselves in front of a small subset of fellow freshmen and several unfortunate locals who happened to be at the bar that night.
Speaking of locals, Matt and OK have made some new friends. Matt seems especially popular with some of the young female inhabitants of the island, though one in particular—we think her name is Carolina? But we’re not sure because her English is almost as poor as Matt’s Spanish—is smitten and follows him everywhere when we go out. I think he’s actually beginning to enjoy the attention, and he hasn’t even mentioned Grace—who he insists he admires in a “purely professional capacity”—in the past forty-eight hours. (Now you can officially stop insisting that the Love-ZERO-formerly-known-as-the-Love-Triangle was actually a square because I promise you that is/was never going to happen.)
I suspect OK (who I know is your “favorite”) would be faring better in the week-long romance department with a Puerto Rican girl or even some of the sophomores or juniors who seem interested but—heaven help him—he is still so in love with Mimi that it’s positively
painful
to watch at this point. I seriously just wish she’d put him out of his misery—and put us all out of
our
misery—already. But . . . who am I to say that they’d be perfect together, or give any kind of relationship advice to anyone?
As for me, I am hard at work on the most important relationship I will ever have (to quote you—or was that you quoting someone else?). The relationship I have with myself! Plus, it’s impossible to mope when the beach is so beautiful and the hardest decision you have to make all day is between the pool versus the ocean!
*The night before last we went swimming in the island’s bioluminescent bay, which is full of this special algae and other microorganisms that flash neon blue and green whenever the water is disturbed—so cool! And during the day we visited the tomb of the town founder, a Spanish fort turned museum built by colonialists in the 19th-century, and a tree that’s over 300 years old (I was the only one who thought that was cool). Then we spent most of this morning and afternoon jet-skiing, which I know is not exactly “cultural” but was still super fun and also happened to be on the side of the island farthest from the resort.
Love you, wish you were here!
Cal