All That Glitters (5 page)

“I talked to Ms. Bridge about the radio station,” Morgan added. “They're going to let me DJ on the station's Web site Thursday nights.”

“I signed up for field hockey,” I said, glad to be able to contribute to the conversation with my very involved friends. “I've never played before, but I think it'll be fun—”

“You did not!” Camille said, wide-eyed. “Didn't you get my e-mail?”

I shook my head. The day had been so crazy, I hadn't even had a chance to look at my iPhone.

“What's the big deal?” I asked. “I met this girl Ramsey, and she seemed really nice…. Kinda scary, but enthusiastic, and she said they needed more tall girls.”

“Flan, Flan, Flan,” Camille said as a teeny brunette munching on a raspberry crepe skirted around us.

“Jeez,” I said, watching all the other girls shake their heads. “Did I already break another cardinal Thoney rule?”

“It's just that, um, Kennedy
and
Willa are on the team,” Camille said. “And they are
fierce
.”

Morgan nodded. “I heard Willa's father made her sign up so she could take out her ‘aggression' in a productive way.”

Suddenly there was a field hockey ball–sized lump lodged in my throat.

“Well, I can't back out now,” I said, looking at Morgan's, Amory's, and Camille's worried eyes. “I've already signed up, and Ramsey said the first practice is tomorrow.”

“Do you really want to play?” Camille asked. She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side, studying my face.

“Sort of,” I said. “I mean, I did. And I don't want to let Kennedy or Willa stop me just because they're being so vicious, but …”

Camille looked at me in her Camille way.

My lips curved into a smile. “Are you having one of your ideas?”

“You could call it that,” she said, smiling. “Would it make you feel any better to have a field hockey sidekick? I think I've still got my old stick from summer camp in our storage unit somewhere.”

I couldn't bob my head “yes” fast enough.

“Have I mentioned before that you're a lifesaver?” I said.

“Well, girls,” Camille said, wrapping her red scarf
around her neck. “That's settled. I think we've sufficiently conquered the Activities Fair. Who's ready for some pizza?”

“And boys!” Amory added.

“Me!” The rest of us chimed in at the same time, although I had to admit that I hoped one of the boys wasn't going to be TZ….

Taking One (slice) for the Team

A word to the wise: If you think you can cruise right through the accessories section at Bloomingdale's with four Thoney girls at your side and still make it to a pizza party on time, you're kidding yourself—it's just not going to happen.

“Oh my
God,
” Amory squealed as we attempted to hurry across the white marble floors toward the David Burke's on the other side of the store. “Was I not just saying I needed a rabbit trim hat to go with the muff my sister gave me for Christmas? What are the odds? I have to see if they have it in black.”

With reflexes like a cat, Camille snatched Amory by the scruff of her Tory Burch turtleneck to prevent her from diving face-first into the shockingly large rabbit trim section of the store.

“Nuh-uh, A. You promised you would show some self-restraint,” Camille said, laughing. “We're already late.”

“We can be five minutes later,” Amory said, still pawing at the hat.

“We told the boys we'd be there twenty minutes ago,” Camille said.

“Camille's right,” Harper agreed, checking her metallic red BlackBerry to see what time it was. “We don't want Kennedy and Willa stealing our seats.”

“What?” Morgan asked loudly, lifting one of her ear buds out of her ear to tune in to our conversation. “What about feeling out beats?” I could hear one of the new Nada Surf songs blasting out of the loose bud.

Harper shook her head and laughed at Morgan, as if this type of misunderstanding happened all the time. She pressed the pause button on Morgan's iPod and spoke into her non-headphoned ear. “Let's get a move on.”

But at that moment, in a glass case across the aisle, Camille spotted a Ralph Lauren watch that I knew she'd been scoping out online for a couple of weeks. Instantly, she released Amory and grabbed my hand so we could both look at the watch.

“This is exactly the one I wanted,” Camille said, clutching the glass case. “The Web site said it was out of stock, but now I can just get it here!”

This was what I loved about these girls. In my old circle of friends at Stuy, it always seemed like we were
playing the same roles. In any given situation, Judith would act the part of the mostly loveable grump, Meredith would be the distractible and up-for-anything free spirit, and I would find myself somewhere in the middle, straddling the two extremes to make sure everyone stayed happy. But it seemed like no matter what happened, these girls pretty much went with the flow—with smiles on their faces to boot.

“But
Camille
,” I teased, smiling myself. “Now we're twenty-
one
minutes late to the pizza party.”

“Enough with the shopping!” Harper said. “Raise your hand if you're starving.” She extended her own long, tan arm in the air, her charm bracelet sliding down to her elbow.

Morgan grinned and waved her iPod. “Yes!”

I grabbed the hands of the shopping bug–stricken Camille and Amory and pulled them out of the accessories section without any further delays.

As we stepped into David Burke's, we were greeted by the whimsical décor that always made me wonder whether I was in a restaurant or at the Big Apple Circus. The deep red booths were full of chatting Manhattanites who were just as consumed by what was in their Big Brown Bags as they were by the cheesecake lollipops on their plates. Waiters with trays of colorful, vertically stacked food whizzed along the
black and white gingham print floor as we made our way to the back.

The boys had claimed an area by the window facing Third Avenue. When we first spotted them clustered around a table with extra chairs pulled up for us, I was surprised to feel my heart pick up and my cheeks flush.

My eyes were immediately drawn to TZ, who was waving his arms in the air, telling some story that was making all the other guys crack up. He was wearing a Burberry scarf and a green blazer that matched his eyes, and when he saw us getting closer, he grinned and nodded his head—guy-speak for hello.

To his left was Alex Altfest, who I still got weirdly nervous in front of ever since I'd overheard him tell my friend Olivia that he thought I was cute over Thanksgiving.

“We were wondering when the reason for the party would show up,” Alex said now, holding his hand up for me to high-five. His black hair was cut short and his vintage Kinks T-shirt looked pretty cool—even though I was sure ripped clothes were against the Dalton dress code.

“Some of us got a little distracted by the fact that we had to walk through Bloomies to get here,” I said as I slapped Alex's hand.

Alex nodded and flicked one side of his mouth up in a smile. “I've got a sister with the very same problem.”

Just then, I felt two hands on my shoulders and looked up to see buffer-than-buff Danny Kaeffer attempting to nudge me over to the next seat.

“Hey, Flan,” he said. “Think we can squeeze in a few more chairs?”

“Sure,” I said, looking up to see who else had walked in. I waved when I saw shy Rob Zumberg, TZ's cousin who'd serenaded us with his guitar-playing most nights when we were in Nevis. I was doubly psyched to see Xander Ross at his side, still wearing his Dalton tie. Xander had been Camille's first true crush, and let's just say she was still waiting for her chance to cash in. Now she was twirling her hair around her finger and looking up at him with her big hazel eyes. He smiled widely at her, and I felt pretty confident that her chances were looking good.

As I helped Danny and Alex pull up a couple more chairs, I was thinking what a fun crowd this was. My nerves had settled, and I was ready to plop down between Alex and TZ and feast on the best arugula and prosciutto pizza this side of the park … when all of a sudden, TZ boomed, “Hey! You two finally made it. Danny, pull up two more chairs.”

Before I even looked up, I knew from the tone of his voice and the stiffening of Camille beside me that the new arrivals to our peaceful little soiree would be none other than my future field hockey stick–wielding partners, Kennedy and Willa.

Whatever sway the two of them had over the girls in my English class this morning, let's just say it was doubly apparent with the guys tonight. Within seconds, Kennedy had sidled over and wedged herself directly between me and TZ.

“Oh Flan, please,” she said in my ear, grabbing the back of the chair where I was about to take a seat. “You don't have to keep my seat warm. It's sweet, but entirely unnecessary … kind of like you.”

“Get over yourself, Kennedy,” I whispered back.

Alex pointed at the chair where Kennedy had sat down and said, “You trying to get away from me already?”

I blushed, but before I could answer, three waiters with trays full of pizza arrived. Everyone had to musical-chair their way around the table, which was made for about seven fewer people. Danny shoved down and there was one remaining chair right next to Alex, but just as I was about to sit down, Willa beat me to it.

“Aw, Flan, thanks for knowing just when to get out
of the way.” She gave me an icy wink and plopped down with her knees against the table to show off her yellow python skin Gucci boots.

So that was how I ended up sitting on Camille's lap at the other end of the table until both of our legs fell asleep.

“Remember how Patch used to give us dead legs all the time when we were little?” Camille laughed as she shook red pepper flakes onto her pizza.

I shuddered. “Totally. And this feeling is just a tad too reminiscent,” I said. “I'll go grab another chair.”

When I stood up, Alex signaled me over to his side of the table. As I walked around Danny, Rob, and Willa to reach him, I tried to think of something witty to say. But just then, my foot caught on something.

I felt the fall happening in slow motion: my hand reaching out to try to grab the table, the slimy cheese of the pizza I'd grasped instead, Camille's long, low “
Noooo
” as I went down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glint of one very yellow python boot tipped out at a dangerous angle.

Then I was on the ground, with half a black truffle pizza in my lap and no chance at all of brushing this one off lightly.

Within seconds, Camille, Morgan, Rob, and Alex were at my side, helping me up and dabbing pizza sauce
off my blazer. Suddenly, Kennedy was there, too, doing a poor imitation of dusting crumbs off my skirt.

“So embarrassing, Flan,” Willa called out loudly from her seat at the table while Danny chuckled. “Are you okay?”

Before I could answer, another less-saccharine voice hissed in my ear.

“Down in the dumps so soon? I told you you'd regret coming back,” Kennedy said with a perfectly glossed smirk.

Before I could snap back, a huffy waiter broke us up with his dustpan and broom.

“Step away from the pizza—stat,” he ordered.

“Wow, Flan, are you sure you're okay?” Camille asked as we all stepped away from the carnage. Everyone else sat down at the table and tore into the pizzas that I hadn't taken down with me.

“Yeah, but I think this day needs to end
now.
Tell everyone 'bye for me.” I gave a sympathetic Camille a couple bills to cover the ruined food and carefully stepped out of the klutz spotlight with a parting wave to Morgan, Amory, and Harper.

As soon as I reached the restroom, I pulled out my iPhone and texted the one person who I knew could come to my rescue.

SERIES OF SOCIAL SNAFUS. SOS.

A Very Enlightened Escort

Ten minutes later, a black Escalade slowed to a stop in front of the main entrance of Bloomingdale's. The back window scrolled down and SBB popped most of her tiny upper body out of it.

“Hello, my love,” SBB chirped. She waved her hands wildly, then called out coyly, “Need a lift, pretty lady?”

Dominick, her driver, came around and opened up the door for me.

“Is this a magic Escalade?” I asked her, climbing in and buckling up. “How did you get here so fast? It's like you have a radar for when I'm going to need you to bail me out of some disaster.”

“How many times do I have to remind you of my psychic power?” SBB laughed. “Oh no,” she said, grabbing my arm. “You got what appears to be marinara on your cute new-old skirt.”

I looked down at the large red smudge on my Beacon's Closet skirt and said, “Ugh. Least of my worries.”

SBB stuck up her pointer finger. “But the most easily fixable,” she said as she started to rummage through a giant Scoop shopping bag. “I bought my yearly supply of Hanky Panky's this afternoon, and when I was at the register, I saw this fabulous skirt that just screamed ‘Buy me for Flan.' So I did!”

After pulling out a few pairs of tiny seamless thong underwear, SBB produced a short green pleated Diane Samandi skirt that did, in fact, scream Flan Flood.

“Wow, thanks, SBB,” I said. “I'm so glad you listened to your inner voice.”

“Me, too!” she grinned. “Because do you know what else my inner voice told me today?”

I shook my head and found myself staring at a giant deep blue diamond ring on SBB's right pinky finger. “Um, ‘Put in the winning bid for the Hope Diamond?'” I said, seizing her hand and gaping at her.

“Oh, this?” she said, blushing and clutching the ring to her heart. “It was a gift.”