Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters (19 page)

That doesn’t sound good at
all
. But what choice do I have?

At lunch the next day, I quickly scarf down a sandwich and head for the art room to find Mrs. Graves.

“Um, I’m here for my fitting?”

Mrs. Graves looks up and smiles. She has coral lipstick smeared on her teeth and is wearing a beige crocheted vest, which doesn’t give me any new confidence in her costume-design abilities. From the back of the room, she drags out a big, moldy-looking box that looks like it hasn’t been opened since the Paleolithic Age. When she opens it, I fully expect a colony of bats to come flying out.

“Okay, hon,” she says, sifting through the items inside. She hands me what appears to be a very large pillow covered with brownish sweat stains. I hold it up and see it has weird puffy sleeves attached.

“Uhhhh …”

“That’s your fat suit, hon. Just put it right on over your undies.” She goes back to digging through the vault of horrors while I stand there gaping at her back. “Go on, hon. No one’s coming in, the door’s locked. Chop chop!”

Oh my God. A
fat suit
? A suit of fat? Great. That’s just … great.

I can’t really see a way out of this, so I strip off my jeans and shirt and yank the thing on like a bathing suit. I check out my reflection in the door of a mirrored wall cabinet; I look like a very fat snowman with a teeny-tiny head.

I turn back around. Mrs. Graves is now coming toward me with her hands full of things that smell like a basement. “Now, hon, you won’t get the final effect until you’re all finished. No more peeking!” She zips up the back of the fat suit and helps me put on a shirt over it, plus a weird vest with patches, a huge knee-length coat, and a massive pair of men’s pants that are way too long.

“Now, I only have men’s shoes here, so why don’t you go ahead and wear some plain black sneakers, okay, hon? That’ll be nice and comfortable for you.”

Oh, yeah. Black sneakers. That’ll look terrific.

“Um, Mrs. Graves, are you sure there isn’t anything, less, um … I mean, more …”

“Oh, don’t worry, hon—we’re not done yet!”

I take some deep breaths. I knew this day would come. What did I expect, a dress? I will just be mature and make the best of things.

Mrs. Graves rummages around in the bottom drawer of her desk until she holds up something that looks like the tail of a giant squirrel. Is it … ?

It is.

It’s a
disgusting beard
. Does this woman think I’m going to allow her to glue that onto my
FACE
?!

She must see my look of horror, because she says, “Be reasonable, hon. You’re a religious Jewish man! You need a beard. And it’s not like you can grow your own, can you?” She chuckles. “We won’t use the spirit gum to attach it today. I’ll just scotch-tape it on you so we can see how it looks. Okay, hon?”

The true horror of being cast as Lazar Wolf the Repulsive can no longer be denied. What was I thinking, going through with this? How could I have agreed to lurch around on a stage in front of my whole school, wearing a pillow in my giant pants and a skinned rodent on my face?

After some minor additions to my lovely ensemble (a busted fedora and plastic butcher’s apron.
Why?
), I’m finally shown to the mirror.

I look like Pavarotti—if he were grilling at a barbecue. In seventeenth-century Russia.

I will myself not to cry. Maybe no one will know it’s me.

30

“Come ooooooon—it’ll be fun. And you don’t even have to wear a beard!” Lexi exclaims.

“Very funny,” I grumble, thumbing through a rack of lovely shirts I will never own. I’m with Em and Lexi at Anthropologie on Saturday afternoon. “You guys go. Come find me after and let me know how it was—I’ll be the one in the moldy fat suit rocking back and forth on the floor of my closet.”

Lexi wants us to go to an upperclassmen party tonight that Robby, the guy she decided to go to winter formal with, invited her to. But since my big costume reveal, I’m just too grouchy to go anywhere that involves socializing. I want to sit at home and feel sorry for myself, and that is
it.
I can’t believe I even got talked into coming out this afternoon … but I’m a sucker for this store, and Em can be very sly when she puts her mind to it.

“Kels, I’m sure your costume isn’t as bad as you’re making it sound,” Em says. “And besides, we haven’t all gone to a party together since Halloween! How sad is that? There might be cute boys there….”

I look up from the bracelet I was admiring, surprised. Em hasn’t talked about guys at
all
since James broke up with her. She’s actually smiling at me, excited by the idea. Oh, man. Am I really going to refuse to do something that would make my very best friend happy after she’s been so sad for months? I’m
used
to having everything go wrong and being miserable, so I can handle it. Watching Em be depressed is awful.

Lexi jumps in. “Oh, come on, there will be
tons
of cute boys there, and not just from our school, either. And you know who will definitely
not
be there?”

“Who?” I ask. “Me?”

“Nooooooo, and nice try,” Lexi continues. “Julie Nelson! The guy who’s having the party
hates
her. Apparently she hooked up with his best friend’s sister’s boyfriend, like, two years ago and it was a
huge
scandal.”

Hold the phone: Someone who hates Julie is having a party, and I’m invited?

Just tell me when to show up. I’ll bring the cake.

I spend about a thousand years getting ready, and agree to meet JoJo and Em outside the party at exactly 10:00
P.M
. so we can all go in together. (Lexi’s going to come with Robby.)

My cab pulls up in front of the apartment building and I see JoJo waiting outside. I run up and she gasps, “Thank God—it is
freezing
out here! And it’s the end of March, WTF?!” Her hair streaks are bright green now and she’s only wearing one glove—she probably lost the other one somewhere.

We’ve just decided to go wait in the lobby to avoid frostbite when Em’s cab pulls up.

Em gets out … followed by Ms. Cassidy Gayle Rosenblum.

NO. EFFING. WAY.

I don’t want to make a scene in front of the doorman, who is glaring at us suspiciously already, so I grab Em’s hand and we go in through the same section of the revolving door. “How could you?” I hiss at her.

“Come on, Kels! You can’t stay mad forever! She’s your friend! I know she wants to make up.”

I pull Em to a corner of the lobby, glancing back outside, where Cass appears to be having a similar conversation with JoJo. “Em, I cannot believe you set me up to be ambushed! What did you think was going to happen? This is so awkward and horrible!”

“I don’t know, I just thought … I hoped maybe, if you weren’t expecting …” Em looks at the floor miserably.

Oh, Lord. I know she meant well, but this sucks. What am supposed to do? Go be the “bigger person”? I already tried that and it blew up in my face.

“Look, don’t … don’t worry about it,” I tell Em. “It’ll be fine. Cass and I ignore each other at rehearsal every day and I’m sure we can do it here. This’ll be great practice for the cast party. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I just really want you guys to make up.”

“I know. But next time, write a poem about it instead or something. Deal?”

Cass and JoJo come over to us. Cass and I avoid looking at each other and say nothing. Great. Can I go home now?

After getting past the scary doorman, the four of us head up to the twenty-sixth floor, where we can hear the party all the way down the hall. We go inside and there are a million people crammed into the apartment. Finding Lexi in this crowd might take all night.

JoJo and Cass go in search of drinks while Em and I take a lap around the party. Whoever the host is, his parents have a sweet apartment (and hopefully a terrific maid service for tomorrow). A big spread with all kinds of snacks is laid out in the dining room, and there are linked speakers throughout the whole place with a great playlist going. Plus a truckload of alcohol, obviously. There are a ton of kids from my school here, but mostly older ones that I only know by sight.

Em and I head into the kitchen, where we find Cass and JoJo doing Jell-O shots with some people I don’t know. JoJo holds one out to me while Em grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. I crack the plastic shot glass and down the Jell-O; when I look up, Cass is staring at me from the other side of the kitchen counter. We make eye contact for the first time in months, and I suddenly feel terribly sad. I think about how much fun we always had hanging out … before the tragic concert, anyway.

I’m contemplating smiling at her, just as an experiment, when a bunch more people crowd into the kitchen, including Lexi.

“Hey! You guys made it! I knew you’d cave, Kels,” she says excitedly, giving me a hug. When I pull away, Cass has already turned around, chattering to some guy. I grab another shot and head into the other room with Lexi.

After an hour or so I’m pretty buzzed and sort of bored. It’s a fun party, but I’m just not really in a party mood. Lexi is with Robby, who is so obviously smitten with her it’s almost funny to watch him follow her around. Cassidy is still in the kitchen with Em, and JoJo seems to have disappeared. I decide to go check on the status of my eyeliner and start looking for a bathroom. I’m moseying down a random hallway when I hear a voice behind me.

“Unless you want to check out a room full of golf stuff, you’re going the wrong way.”

I turn around and come face-to-face with the hottest guy I’ve ever met in person. Ever. He’s got one of those really chiseled faces, kind of like Chace Crawford. He also has sparkly blue eyes that are a lot like Jordan’s. A painful stab of remembered love creeps into my thoughts, but I manage to fight it off.

“That does sound fascinating, but I probably shouldn’t take in so much excitement this early in the night.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Kelsey Finkelstein, by the way.”

My, my! Will you look who’s managing to have a coherent conversation with a hot guy? Amazing!

“Yeah, it’s pretty wild. You should definitely hold off if you can.” He takes my hand and doesn’t really shake it, but sort of clasps it. “I’m Sam. You wanna check out the terrace?”

“Sure, definitely,” I agree, and follow him through some more rooms to a big glassed-in terrace that wraps around the side of the building. There are a bunch of kids out here, just drinking beers and hanging out. It’s a beautiful clear night, and the view of the Hudson River from the terrace is amazing.

Lexi and Robby are out here, too, so we pull up some chairs near them and Sam hands me a beer from a cooler full of ice. I take a swig and don’t even think it’s as gross as I usually do.

I catch a whiff of pot and secretly hope no one offers me any. I just know I’d cough like an idiot if I tried it, and to be honest, I’m just not interested in smoking. Regardless, I feel so pathetically excited to be a freshman in the VIP section of an upperclassmen’s party.
I am awesome!

Okay, so I’m also kinda drunk. But still:
AWESOME
!

“So, you girls play soccer, huh?” Sam asks me and Lexi, putting his arm around the back of my chair. He keeps making physical contact with me, but just barely, like brushing against my leg or my arm for one second and then pulling away. It’s so distracting I can hardly keep my mind on the conversation.

“Yeah,” Lexi says, leaning against Robby. “It was … an interesting season.” She catches my eye and we both start giggling. Sam looks at Robby and shrugs, offering him another beer from the cooler at his feet.

“Do you play any sports?” I ask. It turns out Sam goes to a different school way uptown, so while I’m sort of listening to him talk about lacrosse, mostly I’m calculating how long it would take me to get from my school to his school by subway if we had plans to meet up. Just in case, of course. It never hurts to be overly prepared for a romantic adventure.

So far Robby has not said a single word. Not that I care, particularly, as every molecule in my being is focused on Sam, Sam, Sam.

Sam is definitely the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.

Sam has first-kiss-do-over written all over him.

Sam could—

I suddenly realize I actually have to go to the bathroom for real now—beer really goes right through you. I excuse myself, find the bathroom, and while I’m washing my hands, I have a mini fantasy that when I come out, Sam will be waiting for me by the door. And when I walk out … he’s actually there!

He murmurs, “I was looking for you.”
Oh my God, I can feel myself blushing. Thank God it’s so dark in here.
“You know tonight is my birthday, right?” Sam goes on, tugging gently on a strand of my hair.

“Ohhhh—wait, this is
your
party?”

“Yep, I’m your host. With the most. Hey, you wanna see the rest of the apartment? My parents have some cool art and stuff.”

“Okay,” I agree, following him out. Like I really care about art right now.

We go down yet another hallway—how big is this apartment?—and Sam stops in front of a door, which he opens and leads me through. I realize we’re in his bedroom, which is completely dark except for some dim track lights. We’re totally alone, which I like … but also feel just the
tiniest
bit nervous about. I need to chill out, so I go to take another calming sip of my beer, but Sam puts his fingers around the neck of the bottle and pulls it down from my mouth. Then he’s moving in toward me and whispering, “You’re so cute, Kelsey Finkelstein.”

I can’t believe he remembered my last name!
I think, and then his lips come down on mine.

Oh my God oh my God oh my—

And it’s a
really
good kiss. Not like ridiculous Keith Mayhew at all. It’s soft at first, with limited tongue and some interesting lip action, then more ferocious and intense. He puts his hands in my hair and kisses my ears and my neck, and I get chills everywhere.
Everywhere
.