Mirror in the Sky (10 page)

“I think the man's in Rome. So he's definitely in a better place than us.”

“Maybe you'll get a chance to meet him when you move there,” he said, grinning at me. “Come on. They're in the back by the pool.”

I looked at him a moment, realizing how much he enjoyed being a flirt. The thing was, I liked it too.

“What does her family do with all this . . . space?”

Nick shook his head. “It's pretty ridiculous. There's a bowling alley and a movie theater in the basement. With a popcorn machine and everything. You should see Alexa's place, it's just down the road . . . It's got this huge wine cellar and a spa. My dad's a lawyer, and we live pretty well, but this is some serious cash money.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Hedge fund managers and rappers are the only people in the world who live like this.”

“And leaders of drug cartels.”

“And Bill Gates.”

“Brad Pitt.”

“Lady Gaga.”

“The Waltons.”

“Oh yeah, the Walmart people, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Weirdos. My dad says they're the most unethical members of the one percent the world will ever know.”

“The robber barons were worse. Isn't your dad a corporate lawyer?”

“Yeah, but he does a lot of pro bono social justice work. And my mom's on the board of a halfway house with Veronica's mom. They went to college together. Classic guilty liberals,” he said as we turned a corner revealing the back of the house, a cluster of forty or fifty people lounging around a pool lit by threads of hanging lights, the sound of youthful voices echoing through a venerable wood, loud music playing from an invisible sound system, probably embedded in the grounds, in the old oaks. It definitely made me wonder about the kinds of people who lived in places like this—different kinds of pioneers engaged in a different show of conquest.

“So what do you want to do when you grow up?” Nick asked. We stood apart from the scene, surveying it for a moment before we ourselves would break through and become a part of the painting before us.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I feel like you could do anything you want.”

I took a deep breath, my eyes fixed on Halle sitting on a jute chaise by the edge of the pool in a green sarong and a black bikini top. She was talking to Jimmy, who was sitting beside her in a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, laughing loudly.

“I just want to . . . get out of here, Nick,” I said.

“I know what you mean.”

“No. I don't think you do,” I said, shaking my head. And in that moment, in that place, it felt amazing to finally admit to Nick Osterman the burden of the truth that I carried with me every day at Brierly. “I hate this place so much. I don't belong here.”

“Pretend,” he responded with an authority that made me turn to him.

“Pretend what?”

“That you do. I promise you, no one will ever know the difference.” Then he turned to me, holding out his hand. “Let's make a pact. We'll meet up when we're twenty-five. We'll both have amazing lives by then, as far away from here as possible.”

I had another one of those moments then—the shimmer of disbelief, like wondering if you're in a dream.

“You're going to be in the city. That's not far away.”

“Just wait,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me. “You're going to be . . . fantastic,” he said. I watched him, realizing the thing that he didn't quite understand. Even hope was a luxury, a privilege I had never before given myself the chance to experience. But all I could think in that moment was how right my hand felt in his.

“You guys finally made it! What took you so long?” Halle
announced. She was tiptoeing barefoot across the endless marble patio. Her feet looked tiny and delicate against the white alabaster.

Nick let go of my hand. “Lots of deer crossings.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Halle reached for Nick with a territorial arm, kissing him on the mouth. I looked away, trying to discern the location of the sound system, but my eyes returned to Halle and Nick. Slowly, she pulled away, reaching into the hemline of her bikini, producing a delicately rolled joint.

“Have a smoke with me?” she asked, looking at me.

I had never smoked before, and the thought of doing it for the first time in front of these people, in front of Halle, frightened me. “I probably shouldn't.”

Halle smiled at me. “It's okay if you've never done it before. I mean, there's a first time for everything.” Maybe Nick picked up on the condescension in her tone, or maybe he didn't.

“Of course she's smoked before,” he said, taking the joint from Halle's hand and pulling a lighter out of his pocket. He lit it, taking a drag, the smoke curling in the air, slowly making its way around the limber branches of those oak trees that looked alive. He handed me the joint and gave me a meaningful look. I hesitated for a moment before I took it from his hand and took a tentative puff, coughing and gagging as I handed it back to him. He smiled at me as though we had a secret language—one that even Halle wasn't in on.

Nick put an arm around her. “Where's V?”

“Manning the bar. Let's go find her and bring her this scotch. Come on,” Halle said, reaching for my hand, a gesture
that caught me entirely off guard. I had seen her do this occasionally with Alexa or Veronica. Even with Sarah Hoffstedt. It made me feel, for a moment, as though I was one of them.

We walked by Ariel and Janicza, sitting with their feet in the pool, laughing as they downed champagne straight out of a bottle that they were passing back and forth between them. Jimmy Kaminsky was playing a messy game of beer pong with Hunter Caraway on the outdoor dining table, which was lined with platters of fruit and cheese and crackers, all breaking and spilling and exploding every time a Ping-Pong ball hit a plate. It was the kind of violence against beauty that would have offended my mother.

“Hey, Tara.” Jimmy stopped and reached for me, giving me a hug that lasted too long to feel comfortable. “Come play with us,” he said.

“Later,” Nick answered for me. “We'll be right out, dude.”

We walked past Alexa, who was napping in a large pod-shaped chair. She looked as though she was already drunk. There were a bunch of other people too, drinking, talking, taking dips in the pool.

“Veronica makes the best cocktails,” Halle told me. “She's always bartender at my parties.”

“She likes to make herself useful.” Nick smiled. “Wait till you see the bar.”

He looked at me as though he was genuinely happy to have me here. I wondered for a moment what Sarah Hoffstedt was doing tonight. It made me think about how the GPS system in my father's car would loudly declare “rerouting”
whenever we were lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Both Sarah's path and my own now seemed subject to this sort of complex pivot, only I still wasn't sure where this turn would take me.

We entered through the back of the house and made our way through a maze of high-ceilinged corridors adorned with art that I knew I had seen in art books. Each room we passed through was filled with tasteful modern furniture and tribal-looking kilim rugs.

We stopped at an open kitchen that was the size of my entire house. A row of windows overlooked a side yard and a greenhouse, and a long wooden table that could probably seat twenty people sat squarely in the center of the room. Halle opened the door to a fridge that was three times the size of the fridge in our kitchen and pulled out a handful of cheeses wrapped in wax paper and a bowl of cherries.

“I'm going to make another plate. Why don't you guys go grab some drinks?”

Nick nodded and gestured for me to follow him, and I did, through a teakwood-paneled dining hall with a stained glass window.

“It's a Chagall,” he whispered to me when he saw me staring at it. “A real one.”

Just beyond the dining room was a rustic-looking bar. Veronica stood behind it. She was wearing a pair of glasses, and her hair was blown out.

“Nicholas Osterman. You're
finally
here. Hey, Tara. What can I get for you guys?”

“A vodka tonic for me, and a glass of water for Alexa,” Nick told her.

“He's so thoughtful, isn't he?” she asked, winking at me. “What about you? There's beer on tap, like, eight different kinds, and I just unearthed this bottle from the cellar. Think her parents will miss it?”

Nick squinted at the label. “Domaine Leroy Grand Cru . . . probably not.”

“Yeah, there were, like, ten of them. Have a glass with me?” she asked.

“Are you sure it's okay?”

“Do these people look like they'd miss this one bottle? Please.” Veronica smiled sweetly, pulling forth a wine opener. “Thanks for sharing with me. I don't want it wasted on idiots like Hunter or Jimmy.”

“Hunter's not so bad.” It was Halle. She was standing with an elbow on Nick's shoulder, a perfectly curated plate of cheese and crackers and cherries in her hand, her sarong tied low around the dune of her hips. “I don't know why you don't give him a chance, Veronica.” Her lips twisted into a taunting smile. “He absolutely loooooves you.”

Veronica gave Halle a sideways glance, a look that clearly suggested she didn't want to discuss it.

“I'll let you have some girl time. I'm going to take this water to Alexa,” Nick said, tucking a strand of Halle's hair behind her ear.

“Oh yeah, she's way drunk. Poor thing, barely ate anything all day,” Halle said.

Veronica shot Nick a look, but he merely nodded. “I'll see you all outside,” he said. He gave Halle a kiss before he took off.

“Did you bring your bathing suit? You're a swimmer, right?” Halle asked me.

“Yeah, but I don't have my suit.”

“I can lend you one. God knows I just use mine to lounge near the pool. I hate the water.”

“Here we go, the Saint Barts story again,” Veronica quipped.

“I know you've heard it a million times, but Tara hasn't.” Halle smiled a patient smile at Veronica.

“Go ahead,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes.

Halle turned to me, ignoring Veronica. “I almost drowned when I was four years old, got caught in a riptide. Totally horrible. I'll never forget it, just the sound of the ocean in your ears. I thought I was going to die. I have nightmares even now. It's practically the only thing I'm scared of—water.”

I wasn't sure what to say, so I took a big sip of wine. It tasted earthy and a little sour.

Halle took my cue and did the same. “God, this really is a good bottle. Where'd you find it, Veronica?” she asked.

“Way in the back, with the best stuff.”

Halle turned to me again. “But you're like some sort of superstar swimmer, aren't you, Tara?”

I laughed. “I'm on the swim team, but no superstar.”

“You're just being modest. It's sweet. Anyway, the pool is pretty much wasted on me. We have the indoor one and the outdoor one. You should come by and swim sometime.” She
smiled before she turned to Veronica. “I tell Veronica to use it all the time, but she's not interested.”

I looked at Halle, noticing for the first time that her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils dilated. She was drunk or high or both. Maybe that was why she was being so friendly.

“What are you most afraid of?” she asked me then, taking me by surprise.

I opened my mouth, but I wasn't sure of what to say. And besides, divulging my fears to Halle, of all people, was something I wasn't ready to do.

“Maybe you need a drink before you tell us,” she said. “Speaking of . . . you know what I think would be so fun?”

“What would be so fun, Halle?” Veronica asked, cleaning up the detritus on the surface of the bar.

“To get the two of you drunk!”

Veronica shook her head. “I don't have any interest in being a big drunken mess.” Her eyes were still on the bar, a towel in her hand, and she was scrubbing the side of a cutting board with such ferocity it made me uncomfortable.

Halle turned to me, smiling. “Tara, do you want to get drunk with me?”

There was something awkward about the moment, a tension between Veronica and Halle, and I felt like I was in the middle of something I didn't understand.

“I mean, I get it if you haven't gotten wasted before. I don't want to pressure you or anything.” And even though her smile was friendly, there was a hint of a dare in her voice. She was right, I had never had a sip of alcohol before that night, and the
idea of getting drunk scared me a little. Halle's eyes were on me, challenging me. If I didn't drink with her, I was a square, an outsider, and if I did, I was going to be leaping into unfamiliar territory in front of all these people I didn't know. But then I thought about the day I had endured, the fight between my parents, my mother announcing that she was leaving. I thought about the first day of school, holding Mario in my arms, watching him die.

I picked up the bottle of Grand Cru and poured about a quarter of it into my glass, causing both Veronica and Halle to laugh uncontrollably.