Going Geek (7 page)

Opal comes in and wrinkles her nose at my dinner. “Sorry, does it stink?” I ask, even though she really shouldn't be complaining. Patchouli isn't exactly a socially acceptable scent.

“Well, yeah. But also, I'm vegan.” I must be looking at her blankly, because she helpfully explains, “That means I don't consume any animal products.”

I give her a dead-eyed stare. “I'm from LA, remember? But does that mean…I can't eat it either?”

Opal relaxes. “Of course not. But I'm not used to smelling meat and cheese in such close proximity.” She puts her hemp backpack in her closet and sets up on the floor to study. I glance at her desk, which is covered with a floral tapestry that also appears to be hemp. Books and notebooks sit neatly on the surface, leaving no work space.

“Um, you do go to restaurants, don't you?” Just when I thought she couldn't get any stranger.

“Only vegan ones, usually. Sometimes we get special meals here, but normally I just eat salad. Believe it or not, I'm not the only vegan—”

And suddenly I can't take it. “Just stop right there. If I have to listen to one more word about veganism, I might actually scream.”

Her expression seesaws between sympathetic and offended. “Long day?” she finally asks.

“Let me guess, you heard about me and Leo,” I say.

“Pretty much everyone has,” she agrees.

Fantastic.

M
y phone finally rings, and I snatch it off the floor so fast that Opal actually looks up from her reading. It's Jordana, which, I'm ashamed to admit, is a tiny bit of a letdown, especially since I'm the one who texted her earlier.

“Hi.”

“Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good. What's going on?” Jordana asks.

Following good dorm etiquette, I defer to my studying roommate and step into the hall. “Okay, I have to apologize in advance. I'm going to be
that
girl for a while.” My voice catches.

Jordana's quiet for a second. “Don't even worry about that. We've been friends for too long.”

I take a deep breath. “Well, remember that perfect senior year I was supposed to be having? It has kind of come to a screeching halt.”

“Already? What happened?” She sounds genuinely upset for me, which in and of itself makes me want to cry.

I walk toward the common room, which is on the first floor at the front of the house, right next to the kitchenette. Hopefully it has a door that locks. But Jess is already in there on one of the two couches, watching a movie on her laptop. “Aren't you the lucky one with a single?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I haven't given up hope that someone will watch with me one day,” she says, not taking the hint. “Until then I have to settle for educating through osmosis.” She turns back to her movie. A giant oil tanker takes up most of the screen while a dry voiceover spouts off statistics. Looks riveting.

“Hello?” Jordana's voice comes through faintly over my phone. I glower at Jess and back out of the room.

Outside on the porch I sit down on the steps and rest my forehead on my knees. Even though it's late, the temperature hasn't cooled much, but a faint breeze stirs the air. “How much time do you have?” I ask.

When I get through the whole sordid story, Jordana is silent. “What? What are you thinking? That I had it coming? That my friends are disloyal jerks—what?”

“Slow down,” Jordana says. “Would you believe me if I said all of the above?”

“Kind of a cop-out but, I guess.”

“What's up with this Lila person? Do you think Whit would be this spun out if Lila weren't at Winthrop?”

I consider that. “I don't know. Whit always made her out to be a conniving one-upper. I'm sure Whit feels like I made her look stupid. She probably had Lila believing that I was some fabulous A-list party girl.”

“Hmm. Maybe she's making a big deal out of it so Lila understands that she didn't knowingly exaggerate,” Jordana says.

“You mean so Lila knows that Whitney didn't lie to impress her? Unlike me?” I ask.

“Harsher than I was willing to go, but yeah.”

“Maybe.” Embarrassment in any form is not something Whitney takes lightly. Ever.

“And Leo?” Jordana asks.

With my toe, I trace an
L
in the dirt below the bottom step. “He's really angry with me. We've never had a fight like this before. The thing that kills me is, I did tell the truth! When I first got here and met everyone, my mom was still doing great. Should I be punished in every way possible just because the film business is fickle and things don't always work out? Is it not enough that my family life is grim and that I had to work a ton of hours at a mostly mindless job? Am I really obligated to tell everyone that my mom's business took a nosedive?”

“Definitely not…” She trails off, and I know what she's thinking.

“But if I told Leo, he'd expect me to be honest about it with everyone.”

“Why? Is his life an open book?”

“Yes. Because he's perfect.”

“Well, that's annoying,” Jordana says. My responding laugh is halfhearted at best. “What?” she continues. “It was annoying when he was your boyfriend, and it's even more annoying now that he's holding his perfection over your head.”

I straighten. “He's still my boyfriend. And that's not what he's doing. Is it?”

Jordana sighs. “No. From everything you've told me, he doesn't seem like that guy. He just doesn't get it.”

“Do you think he's going to break up with me?”

“I don't know, but if he does, that'll be his one imperfect act.”

That actually makes me smile. We're quiet for a minute. “Thanks for trying to make him the bad one, JoJo.”

“That's what friends are for,” she says.

“What about you? Tell me that your year is going better than you thought it would.”

“Nope. It's unfolding exactly as expected. Except Joe Brill asked me out.”

“That's amazing!” I say.

“I'm going to let you think about that one for a minute,” Jordana says.

Realization dawns. “Oh, second grade, nose picker?”

“Bingo.”

“Well, that was a long time ago. But this just means college is going to be spectacular for you,” I say. It better be. Jordana deserves it.

We hang up, and I force myself back into the dorm. As I pass by the common room I notice that everyone's in it, including a goth girl I've seen around but never met and a girl wearing faded jeans and a gauzy peasant blouse whom I've never noticed before. I stick my head in out of curiosity. Everyone's conspicuously quiet, trying to look busy. I'm about to introduce myself, but then I see that the front window's wide open and realize that they must have overheard every word of my conversation.

“You guys were eavesdropping on me?” Even though privacy is typically scarce at boarding school, it's pretty gutsy to listen in on someone's private phone call so blatantly.

They all exchange glances, each hoping that somebody else will be dumb enough to speak first. “Isn't it kind of better this way?” Raksmey finally asks. “Now you don't have to tell the story a million times.”

Unbelievable. “Just so you know, I had no intention of telling any of you any story, ever!”

I storm up the stairs but not before I hear someone whisper, “She's better than Netflix.” A few of the others shush her.

As soon as I get to my room, I crawl into bed. Opal is seemingly not completely oblivious, because she makes sure to let me fall asleep before she comes back.

O
ut of habit, I sit with Olivia and Elizabeth the next day in calculus. I've made a concerted effort to conceal the bags under my eyes and even managed to put on a cute outfit. When class is dismissed, they start chattering about how Lila supposedly dated some famous actor over the summer. Though I don't mean to, I let out a snort.

Olivia stares at me. “The Hamptons may not be Hollywood, but they're not exactly sleepy.”

I'm confused by her defensiveness, since Winthrop's the only place she's lived in the US. “I just meant, Lila's kind of a lot, don't you think?” I ask.

“That's how Whit's always described her,” Elizabeth says.

“True,” I agree. “But it's a little odd how she's come in and taken over.”

Elizabeth sighs. “We don't want to get in the middle. Just do a good job on the Calendar, and I'm sure things will go back to normal between you guys.”

I nod, wondering if they're going to say anything about the whole waitressing thing. They don't, which somehow stings more than if they confronted me about it. Maybe it's my job to bring it up, but it sort of feels like they don't care enough to get involved. Not just with my fight with Whitney. With me.

We've reached the Canteen steps, and I spot Leo several people ahead of us. From his profile I can tell he's smiling. When he notices me, his face falls, but he doesn't wait for me or even acknowledge that I'm right here. “I'm going to run back to my dorm for a minute. I forgot something.”

They exchange a look. “You're going to have to be in the same room as him at some point,” Olivia says.

So they do know about that. “If you know, why haven't you said anything?”

Olivia shrugs. “Like what?”

“I don't know. How about, ‘Sorry your boyfriend, who you're in love with, said he needs space'? ‘We still love you even if Leo's confused'? Something like that.” I glare at them, and at least they both shift uncomfortably, even if they don't actually seem ashamed.

“Obviously we all feel terrible for you,” Elizabeth says. “But honestly, none of us knows what you're going through. If you felt you had to fabricate stories—”

“I didn't give you guys an up-to-the minute, blow-by-blow chronicle of my life. That doesn't make me a liar.”

“But you let us keep thinking you were doing something you weren't.” Olivia turns to Elizabeth. “This is exactly why Whit said not to invite her to dinner last night.” As if I've spontaneously gone invisible or deaf.

“She
what
? And I'm confused, you all just agreed?”

“Calm down, it wasn't personal. She wanted it to be celebratory, and then she told us that you and Leo broke up and said she didn't want you to feel forced into being cheerful,” Elizabeth says.

“How big of her,” I snap.

They sigh in unison. “Sorry. It just seemed like either choice would be a bad one, so we went with what Whit said,” Elizabeth explains.

“She's your best friend, maybe you should take all this up with her,” Olivia says.

Awesome best friend. “Thanks for the advice. I'll do that.” Somehow I don't remember my friends being this spineless. “And by the way, Leo and I didn't break up. Giving each other space is not the same thing.”

They shoot quick glances at each other. “That's not what that looked like just now,” Olivia says. “And we hear that he's telling people you broke up.”

“That's crap. You know Leo. He would never overshare about his personal life.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “We're just repeating what people are saying.”

“I appreciate the heads-up,” I say sarcastically.

On the way back to Abbot, I stare at the ground, furious that the rumors have gotten so out of control. My eavesdropping new dorm mates have to be the culprits. I have to admit, for socially disconnected dorks, they got the word out with impressive speed.

I spot Whitney and Lila sitting on the Field, the expanse of lawn next to Buckland Library, where everyone hangs out in warm weather. They're sitting on the grass, legs outstretched, leaning back on their elbows, with a dozen or so male admirers hovering.

I take a detour and navigate over there, stepping over backpacks and dodging wayward Frisbees. “Whit, I need to talk to you,” I say when I'm standing practically on top of them.

She shields her eyes from the sun to look at me. Lila studies me for a second, then turns her attention back to Ben Waters. God, drool much? Then, with a theatrical sigh, Whitney gets to her feet. “In private,” I say.

We walk a few yards away and lean against the waist-high stone wall that separates the Field from the academic quad. “Why didn't you tell me about dinner last night?” I ask. “Don't you think it would've been nice for me to spend time with friends after all this drama?” I stare at her hard. “And don't tell me it's because I wouldn't have been able to cope with everyone celebrating.”

Whitney brushes nonexistent grass off her skirt and sighs. “Okay, you want to know why? You've created a credibility issue. Not just for yourself, but for me. Lila thinks I'm an idiot and that you've had me fooled since the beginning.”

I shake my head, confused. “First of all, you know that's not true. Second, since when do you care so much about Lila's opinion?”

“I need her to know that I'm in charge here. Winthrop's my school, and I don't need Lila thinking she can just come in and take over.”
Too late,
I think. She looks over my shoulder, I assume to make sure Lila's still occupied. “I've told you how she is,” she says in a hushed voice. “Lila already thinks Winthrop's quaint—and not in a good way—because it's basically in a hamlet. But I've always told her that hanging out with cool, interesting people makes up for it. If she thinks I've been befriending losers, not that I'm saying you are one, she won't hesitate to spread the rumor back home.”

“So?”

“I know you don't talk much to your LA friends—if that's even where you live—”

“Will you
stop
?”

“—but I still spend time with my city friends and probably will for the rest of my life. The Upper East Side is small, and Lila's family hosts the big end-of-summer party out in the Hamptons.”

“And, what, because I waitressed, now she won't invite you?” The whole thing sounds highly improbable.

“If she makes a big enough stink about this year being pointless—and let's face it, she's not going to suddenly discover a love for academics, so for her it's going to be all about meeting important people—my whole family could get uninvited. We're the ones who suggested she come here. And my dad will absolutely blame me if that happens.”

Far be it from me to claim to understand the ways of socialites in training. “Well, can't you just watch the movie again? My mom's name is on the opening credits. Or check IMDB?” Even as I say it, I'm cringing. Is this really the level we're willing to stoop to so we can convince Lila that I'm worthy?

Whitney's shoulders slump. “I'm trying to get her off the topic, but she's like a dog with a bone. When she senses weakness, she goes straight for it. By the way, it doesn't help your cause at all that Leo dumped you when he found out. And now you don't even have the hot-boyfriend thing going for you.”

After a speechless minute, I finally come to my senses. I can't even address the Leo part. “Have you completely lost it? Guess what? I don't live on the Upper East Side, so I really don't have to care what Lila thinks.”

Whitney shoots a startled glance in Lila's direction while motioning for me to keep it down. She looks at me with pity. “Not yet, maybe. Look, it's in your own best interest to lie low for a while. Everyone will just assume you're nursing your broken heart—which is totally understandable. Then Lila will have a chance to settle in and hopefully warm up to you.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
If
we come to it. I mean, you're my friend. She'll get on board at some point.” Whitney gives me a wry smile but then returns to her spot without a backward glance, rearranging her skirt and hair until they're picture-perfect.

“Nobody here would ever do that,” Opal protests when I confront her. She and Raksmey are sitting in our room, doing homework on the second freaking day of school. Opal's on the floor, and Raksmey sits behind her on the bed.

“We might have overstepped out of concern and because we're trying to get to know you, but we're not gossip mongers,” Raksmey says.

“Then why does everyone keep saying that Leo and I broke up?”

“Maybe because you did,” Raksmey says. Opal reaches back to give her a light slap on the leg.

“But is that something you're telling people?” I ask.

Opal sighs. “We already told you: no.”

“Believe it or not, we had lives before you moved in,” Raksmey says, earning another slap from Opal.

They look at me with so much sympathy that I know my desperation must be coming across loud and clear. Suddenly I don't know what to do. I run outside and sit on the porch, praying that no one else comes by. Every single person who's mentioned Leo to me thinks that we've broken up. The realization that I might have fooled myself into believing something completely different from what Leo meant feels unbearably humiliating.

I watch the path, ready to escape if anyone approaches. Not that I have any idea where I'd go.