Jet Set (9 page)

“S
o are you with Antony now?” asked Iman, her arms folded in a huff and her eyebrows raised. I knew I had felt someone's eyes on me through the curtains.

“No, um, I mean, we're friends.”

“First you go for Oliver, and now his arch nemesis? You really try to get around,” she said snidely.

What was she implying? So many girls and guys here were hooking up, why was
I
being singled out for “getting around”? Pathetic.

“That's so not the case, but whatever. And what's your problem, anyway?” I asked, feeling quite brave.

Iman seemed genuinely shocked that I dared question her. “No problem,” she said evenly. “Just noticing.”

I was dying to ask her about the background of Oliver and Antony being enemies, but I didn't want to engage her with any more conversation. Instead I stomped up the steps toward Sofia's room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

“I'm
fed up
with those Diamonds! They know how to ruin every good moment!” I practically yelled as I slammed the door. Sofia's mouth curled into a smile.

“What've they done now, love?”

“Iman is implying I'm a slut. She says I am flirting with Oliver and Antony, which is a total lie!”

“Why, are you into Oliver? Or Antony? Or both?”

“No! How could I be? Oliver's a friggin' prince, and he's totally unavailable—it's not like I'd ever go for him. And Antony—I'm not sure yet. But why do they even care?”

“Because they're bored, sad girls who have nothing better to do. I told you, they're awful!”

“Meanwhile,” I probed, “do you know anything about Oliver and Antony? Some kind of falling-out?”

She whipped around. “No. What is it?”

I immediately regretted that I'd said anything. Now I never knew when I was talking to Sofia as a friend or as a spy for
Gab!
“I don't know,” I said lamely. “Iman said something about it.”

“Interesting,” said Sofia, eyes sparkling. “I'll have to get to the bottom of that.”

“Please don't, Sofia,” I begged. “Let this one go. I feel pretty nauseous about all this stuff now.”

Sofia smiled. “Don't. Look, I know you are conflicted, but, well, I didn't want to say anything…”

“What?”

“The Diamonds are somehow under the impression that you're like this major slut. There's even a rumor that you, um, you know, with Oliver.”

The blood drained from my face. “What?” I gasped.

“Look, I told them it's a lie, right away. And I think they knew that. But the point is, for some reason they think you're a threat, and they are going to spread rumors about you. So maybe it's time we do the same for them.”

I thought for a minute. “Like what?”

“Nothing weird. I mean, you know how Tiggy passed out in the hall after Jazzmatazz?”

“She did?!”

“Yes, I thought everyone knew that. Now next time we just need a picture. That will say it all.”

“I don't know…”

“Look, you have to discredit these people. Once they have no credibility, no one will believe their lies about you.”

I lay back on her mass of pillows and pondered.

“Come on! We just need to catch them doing something mean or bad. Give them a dose of their own medicine. Catch them in a lie, or hurting someone. You know they made Rioko cry?”

“They did?”

“Yeah. They were pissed at her for practicing early one morning and interrupting their ‘beauty sleep' so they took her violin and threw it to one another, almost breaking it! That thing is worth, like, a million bucks.”

“Oh my gosh, that's so evil. She is the sweetest—”

“That's what they are!
Evil
,” said Sofia, flipping her hair back and straightening the pleats in her skirt. “That's why we have to stick up for the little people!”

“We'll see. If the opportunity arises…”

“Great!”

The opportunity arose faster than I thought it would.

I
awoke to the sound of a little
ping
from my computer, which I'd left on by accident. Thank goodness. I wearily rose to see what had arrived in my in-box. It was from Friend.

I jumped up and opened it abruptly, hearing titters of laughter and running footsteps down the hall. No one was to be seen. I looked at my door, which was covered in a collage of all kinds
of
Playboy
centerfolds with my face taped on the heads. I was astonished. One was even nude with a tennis racket. Jesus. I started ripping them down piece by grody piece. When every last tape remnant had been peeled, I smashed it all into the trash and took to my computer.

I hit Send.

A few minutes later, the reply:

Hmm…maybe it was Rioko? I knew she was on a par with me in loathing those snobbish freaks. I couldn't be sure, but this time I was
really
mad. My parents always joke that I am so easy and laid-back unless you cross me and then I have a huge temper. It takes a lot to provoke me, but once there, I really go nuts. And I had reached the boiling point. I was so sick of the petty tricks these spoiled girls were doing. Enough already!

I knocked on Sofia's door.

“So, ready to rumble?” she said, framed by the carved mahogany.

“Abso-friggin'-lutely.”

 

Cue the
Mission: Impossible
music. With eyes darting in either direction, Sofia took my hand and led me into her room, closing the door behind us. There was a metal trunk at the foot of her bed. She expertly opened it, and I was stunned to see a Quantico-level amalgam of wires, plugs, and small boxes inside.

“Um, is that a bomb?” I asked naively.

“Hello? I'm an aspiring journalist, not a terrorist!” she replied, incredulous. I wasn't quite sure how she was a
journalist
per se, but whatever. “These are state-of-the-art bugging devices. Daddy just had them shipped. These tiny fiber optics will watch and hear their every move.”

She started nimbly connecting wires and cables together like she'd done it a million times before. I stood motionless, brow furrowed, once again oscillating between my full-body loathing of Iman, Antigone, and Victoria and the diametrically opposed yearning to be above them and just brush it off. But the vision of my head on the greased-up tanorexic bods on my door continued to make my blood boil.

“I can't do this without you, Wimbledon,” she said, reading my ambivalence. “You in?”

“I'm in,” I replied shakily.

“Good,” she said, a smile spreading as a twinkle glistened in her mischievous eye. “The Diamonds are about to get seriously flawed.”

T
hat night, while the gals hit Club Platinum, Sofia and I snuck down the hall. I kept watch while she darted mouselike into each of the three witches' rooms, wiring away as I stood nervously by, the sound of my breath making me all the more neurotic. Suddenly I heard steps coming in the direction of the wing I was standing in.

“Sofia,” I whispered. “Someone's coming!”

I guess she hadn't heard me because she didn't exit. I panicked. Who would be there when everyone was out? I drew a sharp
breath when I saw who it was—the elusive and stunning Angelina. She looked at me and gave a tight half smile and slight nod in acknowledgment of my existence.

“Hi, Lucy,” she said quietly.

“Hey…” was my feeble semiresponse.

“What are you up to?”

“Up to? Um…nothing, just…waiting for someone. You?”

“I'm tired. I was going to go to bed.”

“No Platinum?” I asked, wondering why she wasn't dancing on tables like everyone else who was fabulous.

“Nope. That scene's not really for me. It's fun and all, I suppose—I'm just…more of a homebody, I guess.”

“I hear you. Me too.” It was refreshing that she wasn't partying her panties off like every other illustrious and beautiful teen on the Continent.

She was about to go, but then she hesitated. “If you're just hanging out, do you want to come in and watch
The Hills
? It's supposed to be a crazy episode—the girls get into some catfight. Kind of like here.”

That was all I wanted to do right now! But instead I was stuck being Sofia's accomplice. “Oh my gosh, that's so nice, Angelina, but I'm kind of waiting for Sofia. I promised her I would—”

She cut me off. “It's okay, next time,” she said, smiling.

“Definitely!” I said, with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Okay, well, I'm off to bed,” she said shyly. “Good night.”

“Good night!”

I was thrilled that she left before realizing what Sofia and I were up to but bummed that I had to rebuff her first overture at friendship. I bet the Diamonds would go insane to know she'd asked me to hang with her! That was almost better revenge than wiring their rooms. But for now I was just glad she didn't catch us. As she walked down the hall, I exhaled in relief but was still shifting from side to side like a child who has to pee until Sofia exited the final room.

“What took you so long?” I demanded. “I almost had a heart attack! Angelina came by and could have busted us!”

“Cool your jets, Wimbledon! The wheels are in motion.”

“Yeah, and if we ever get caught she'll know it's me!”

“Chill out, dahhhling. Stress is not becoming.” Sofia breezed by me, back down the hall to her room.

“So what now?” I asked as she casually pulled a disco dress from her closet, acting as if she'd just brushed her teeth or checked her email rather than planted spy devices.

“We're hitting Club Plat like everyone else! There's nothing else to do except party—the action will all go down after curfew, when they come home to dissect the evening! Till then, let's rage.”

I reluctantly went back to my room to get changed and found my phone ringing.

“Lucy, where are you? Everyone's out!” It was Antony. Maybe going out wasn't such a bad idea.

“Oh, um, hi—I'm…on my way.”

“Can't wait to see you.”

As I hung up I got a jolt of excitement—tonight was finally going to be the night that Miss Tennis Racket also felt like a pretty girl at the dance, now that a perfectly charming boy was into her. And it felt great.

 

Antony was waiting for us with a perfect corner booth when Sofia and I arrived. The three of us hung out, Sofia wearing her big cocktail ring again. Antony asked me to dance, and when we were on the floor twirling and laughing, I noticed two security guards with wires in their ears step into the club. They looked straight out of an espionage movie. I couldn't figure out what they were doing there. I mean, everyone there was security-worthy, but once we were on the grounds of campus and in the town, students were pretty much safe. But then I gulped. What if they were on the hunt for us? Paranoid, I signaled to Sofia, thinking they might be on the prowl for the person who took all those photos for
Gab!
She nodded, acknowledging my heads-up, and discreetly put her hand under the table. No use risking it. Not that they would realize that her ring was a camera, but hey, you never know.

Just then Victoria and Iman walked by me (Antigone was nearby on the dance floor, she and Moabi LeTroux making out again like minks on a breeding farm) and literally did the Slut Sneeze to me. As in fifth grade. As in
aaaaahhhh-choo
form but by saying “Slut.” I looked at Antony, morbidly embarrassed. Trying to recover, I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

“Those girls have it in for me.”

I tried to shake off their juvenile behavior, but he wouldn't have it. He stormed up behind them and tapped Victoria on the shoulder. “Lame, Tory.”

“Oh chill out, we're just having fun,” she sneered. “Tell her to thicken her skin.”

“You're a sad, pathetic girl. Back. Off. Her.
Now!
”

Wow, chivalry! I must say, they looked frightened. They slowly walked away but not before shooting me an acidic look of death.

“Thanks, Antony.…”

“Let's get out of here,” he said indignantly.

I went to go tell Sofia we were leaving.

“Oh, I'm off, too. I'm gonna get the headphones on for a looong night of Lucy bashing on the wires!” she said.

Great.

I walked outside, heart heavy, to find Antony waiting for me in the moonlight as the party raged on inside the club.

“Why the glum look? Don't tell me you really care about what those sad girls think?”

“Those sad girls are about to rip me to shreds,” I muttered. “I never did a thing to them!”

“Listen, my dear girl, they're simply jealous of you.”

“Jealous? Of
me
? Antony, you're—”

“I'm right,” he said, taking my hand. “You have it all: brains, beauty, talent, a good family.…”

How did he know about my family? We hadn't spoken much about my parents.

“…and a guy who's crazy about you.”

Really?
Moi?
I blushed to a happy peony pink.

At that sudden moment, the mean girls, the tests, the upcoming tennis match, the spy capers with Sofia—none of it mattered. And as Antony leaned in slowly and kissed me, taking me in his arms, I didn't mind if he was the only soul in Europe who cared about me. In his embrace, one was enough.