Amigas and School Scandals (22 page)

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Authors: Diana Rodriguez Wallach

BOOK: Amigas and School Scandals
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Chapter 31
B
y Wednesday, the plans were made. Madison would be driving to Ithaca, thanks to a GPS device her parents installed to help her navigate and to help them track us via satellite. We were mandated to have our cell phones charged and turned on at all times, and Vince would be held solely responsible for keeping us alive while there. If anything happened, my father intended to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law (if Madison or Emily's parents didn't kill him first).
Vince was right. My dad felt so guilty, he barely argued when I brought up the trip. He simply called Madison and Emily's parents and worked out the details. He even called Lilly's parents in Puerto Rico to explain the plans to them; they were thrilled their daughter would be visiting an Ivy League school. They, along with my Uncle Miguel and Aunt Carmen, had sent me a gold necklace with a crucifix for my birthday. It wasn't exactly my taste, but I knew it must have taken Lilly's mom weeks to pick out. My cousin Alonzo's gift probably didn't require as much thought. He sent me a bottle of piña colada mix to commemorate my one drunken night in Utuado. Of course, he didn't send the alcohol that went with it, but I understood the gesture.
Emily and Madison took the prize for the best birthday gift. They bought me a video iPod with loads of memory and a coordinating stereo. As expected, my parents offered a generous savings bond and a tasteful ring featuring my birthstone, an opal.
I fiddled with the new white-gold ring as I walked toward my locker. Bobby was already standing there. We had barely spoken since my party, aside from minor chemistry-related conversations. This was actually the first time I had seen him at his locker all week, which led me to believe I was being avoided. My guess was that my family drama fell into the “too much information” category. Not that I blamed him. He wasn't my boyfriend. It's not as if he were obligated to stand by me.
“Um, hey,” I muttered as I swung my locker's black and white dial.
“Hey,” he said, not looking over.
“Look, about my party. I'm sorry you had to see that... .”
“You don't have to apologize,” he said, looking toward me.
“But, everything that happened. It's just ...”
“Complicated,” he finished, nodding his head like he understood.
“Yeah, and well, a lot of stuff came out while I was in Puerto Rico... .”
“Mariana, you really do not need to explain anything to me.”
“But you've been so quiet lately.” I bit my lip.
“No, God. That has nothing to do with you. I'm not mad at you or anything.”
“Oh, because, I just thought ...”
“I had fun at your party. With you.” He smiled as he tugged at the straw-colored hair on the back of his head. “I should have called you... .”
“No, no. It's okay.” I turned back to my locker.
“I mean, I
wanted
to call you. I want to get together. You know, do something.”
“Well, I'm actually not gonna be around this weekend.”
“Neither am I.”
“I'm going to Cornell.”
“So am I.”
My forehead scrunched as I peered at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded, his eyebrows shoved high.
“I'm going to visit Vince ... for this initiation thing.”
Bobby broke into a laugh, his neck tossed back revealing his bulging Adam's apple. When he lifted his head, his smile was wide.
“I'm going to the same thing! My dad's an alum at one of the fraternities. He's trying to get me to apply to Cornell and give up the whole NYU dream.”
I laughed with him, genuinely amused. “Wow, small world.”
“So is it just you?” he asked, as he slammed his locker shut.
“No, me, Lilly, Madison, and Emily. Your whole film festival crew.”
He nodded as his lips drooped down. “That's cool,” he said, but his eyes drifted elsewhere.
I could tell he was contemplating something I had said, but I couldn't determine what. He hadn't seemed to mind being around Emily before, but maybe her mom's bringing up their date had more of a discomforting effect than I had realized. Or maybe he really did like her. Suddenly, he shook his head as if he had just realized that I was still standing in front of him.
“You know,” he continued, changing topics. “Dean Pruitt picked the date for the festival. It's the Friday before Thanksgiving week.”
“That's great. We'll
all
help,” I said, cautiously. “We might get busy with ballet. We have a performance right before Christmas. But, we'll make time.”
“Cool.” Bobby tossed his backpack over his shoulder, looking deep in thought once more. “Uh, see you later.”
For some reason, when he left, things felt as awkward between us as before we talked.
Chapter 32
T
he next day, as I pulled my sport bag out of my locker, my muscles ached. I was headed to our fourth ballet practice of the week. Madame Colbert had accelerated the schedule to make sure she had chosen the right dancer for each part. So far, Emily hadn't shown any direct animosity toward me or the secondary role she was asked to play. Her practices for Caraboose were challenging and intense, and she really nailed the dark emotions of the character. Probably because they mimicked the moody personality she'd adopted in the past few weeks.
Only today's practice was set to focus almost entirely on Princess Aurora's sixteenth birthday scene, which featured my largest and most demanding solo. The last thing I wanted was to dance Emily into another gloomy mood, and these days I didn't know what was going to trigger the blues.
I smashed my locker shut and started my trek toward Madison's to catch my usual ride. All the time we spent in the car this week was devoted to discussing our Cornell plans. Madison bought an entirely new wardrobe for the occasion, claiming she needed to “look collegiate.” This included new jeans, tight yet casual sweaters, European leather boots (not sure how they tied in), and a fresh crop of makeup in neutral tones so she wouldn't look like “a made-up high school girl.” I, on the other hand, hadn't spent a moment contemplating my soon-to-be-packed attire. I was visiting my brother. The boy had seen me at the breakfast table with greasy hair and an unwashed face. I didn't need to impress him or any of his friends. Bobby was a different story. But I doubted I would see him. He'd be with his dad, and I was sure they'd have their own schedule.
From down the hall, I spied a group of teens gathered in front of Madison's locker, chatting and flirting. As they dispersed, I caught a glimpse that stopped me in my tracks. Madison was standing with her hand resting on her locker door gazing up at Evan Casey as he leaned in with an easy grin. Their eyes were locked and their bodies were angled comfortably toward each other. Only it was the way they were smiling, with a mix of shyness and flirtation, that made me pause. A wave of anxiety sped through my bones.
I took a long breath and slowly walked toward them.
“Hey,” I said, loudly. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
Evan immediately straightened his shoulders, and Madison turned away.
“Um, no. Evan was just telling me how much fun he had at your party. I told him you'd be here in a second, so he could tell you himself,” Madison said as she stared at the contents of her tote bag.
“Uh, yeah. It was a blast. I loved all that Spanish stuff,” he said.
“Yeah, you're a pretty good dancer,” I said, stepping toward him with an innocent grin across my face. “I guess
Lilly's
a good teacher, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. She's great.” He nodded.
“I know everyone was really impressed by how well you guys danced together. You know, when it was just the four of us out there.”
Madison's gaze remained focused on her bag as she shoved in book after book.
Evan shrugged. “It was no big deal. It was mostly Lilly they were looking at. And you.”
“No, I really think it was the two of you
together
,” I said in my happiest tone. “So have you been to any more of her tennis matches?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped back.
“ 'Cause Lilly said you stopped by yesterday's match to cheer her on. That was very cool of you. I couldn't make it because of ballet practice. But I'm sure Madison told you all about that.”
Madison glanced at me sideways.
“Um, no. Why would I tell Evan that?”
“Oh, I don't know. I thought it would have come up when you were talking.”
“Talking? When? In the two-second conversation we had before you walked over?” She shook her head, bewildered.
“I guess I was wrong. My bad.” I looked at Evan. “By the way, thanks for the new gym bag. I haven't used it yet; my mom said I have to wait until I send out all my thank you cards. But I'm looking forward to it.”
“Oh, Betsy picked it out,” he said, before adjusting the strap of his messenger bag and walking away. “See you guys later.”
“Yeah, bye!” I cheered.
I shot my head toward Madison, my eyes reduced to slits. “What was that?”
“What?” She slammed her locker shut and scanned the hallway for Emily, who was late for the second time this week.
“You and Evan.”
“There is no ‘me and Evan.' ”
“It sure looked like there was.”
“We danced at your party. I got to talk to him. He's not a bad guy.”
“Well, I'm pretty sure Lilly likes him.”
“Yeah, and I thought Emily liked Bobby,” she snipped, just as Emily came into view.
“It's not like that.”
“Me neither.”
We both grabbed our bags and marched toward our friend.
“What do you mean you're not going?” Madison cried as we drove out of the school parking lot.
“I mean, I don't feel like practicing today. Can you just take me home?”
“But why?” Madison was shooting quick glances at Emily as she drove.
“Because I don't feel well,” Emily continued.
“You're lying.”
“How do you know? My stomach hurts.”
“No, it doesn't.”
“What do you want me to do? Puke in your car?”
I could see Emily's expression in the side-view mirror from my usual spot in the back. She didn't look sick. She looked sad. Her shoulders hunched forward and her eyelids drooped. She almost had that vulnerable look of someone who'd been crying.
“Em, look, I'm sorry you didn't get the part. It's just one performance. And you're doing really well in your role,” I said, reaching for her shoulder.
“Mariana, it's not about that,” she snapped, shooting me an icy stare starkly different from the sullen mood she had expressed moments ago. “God, does everything have to be about
you
?”
I cringed, a wrinkle forming between my brows.
“I didn't say that,” I said softly.
“No, I know. I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “I just don't feel well.”
Madison flicked another brief look at her friend. “Is there something going on with you?”
“No, I just don't feel like going to ballet today. Since when is that a crime?”
“Fine. I'll drive you home.”
“You're still going to Cornell this weekend, right?” I asked, half-afraid the sound of my voice would set her off more.
“Yes, definitely,” she stated plainly.
We drove the rest of the way to her house in silence. When we dropped her off, there were no cars in the driveway. No one was home. She didn't look surprised. She probably wanted the solitude.

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