Mixed Bags (3 page)

“Is she a charity case too?”

“No, but she is getting a reduced rate. I call it my Friends and Family plan, and I do expect you to keep it quiet.”

“Still, it’s hard to imagine Casey getting into trouble. Her family has always been kind of religious. It seemed like they went to church about five times a week.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do know that Deborah seemed relieved that Casey was joining us, and she specifically asked that Casey room with you, Desiree. She thinks you will be a wholesome influence on her.”

DJ chuckled. “And what do you think, Grandmother?”

“I think you need to lose that horrible ball cap, and we need to figure out how and where we’ll get more closet space for everyone.”

Despite her earlier plan of talking her grandmother out of this whole thing, DJ experienced an unexpected pang of sympathy for the old woman. It was surprisingly sweet that she was letting Rhiannon come here. And having Casey as a roommate, well, that almost seemed too good to be true. And, even though she hadn’t seen her for almost a year, she couldn’t imagine how Casey could’ve gotten into trouble. Maybe her ultra-conservative parents had simply overreacted.

DJ was on Her way TO Her room
when she thought she smelled something burning. Worried that the house might be on fire, she began sniffing around. Finally, she determined the source was coming from the blue room, the room that Taylor had been assigned. DJ hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Taylor since she’d taken her to that room nearly three hours ago. Hopefully, Taylor hadn’t set herself on fire in protest of being placed in the Carter House against her will.

DJ knocked quietly on the door.

“Who is it?” barked Taylor.

“It’s me, DJ. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped.

“I smell smoke,” said DJ. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Just then, the door burst open, and a hand reached out and grabbed DJ by the arm and jerked her into the room.

“What is your problem?” Taylor demanded as she leaned against the closed door and took a long drag from a partially smoked cigarette.

“You’re smoking,” observed DJ. The blue room, filled with smoke, looked even bluer now.

“You’re brilliant.”

“Thanks.”

Taylor let out a long, slow puff of smoke. “Are you going to tell Grams on me?”

DJ coughed. “No, but it’s not allowed, you know.”

“I know.”

“And you’ll set off the smoke detector.”

Taylor nodded over to the bed where what used to be a smoke detector was now in several parts, consisting of wires, white chunks of plastic, and a battery. “I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you smoke outside?”

“Because it’s hot out there.”

“Oh…”

“So, you’re really not going to tell your grandma?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t really care. I figure I can get myself kicked out of here within a week if I try hard enough.”

“You’re really that opposed to being here?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I was. But maybe I’ll give it a try.”

“Why don’t you stay with your mom?”

Taylor sort of laughed as she snuffed out the cigarette in a soap dish that she’d confiscated from the bathroom. “She doesn’t want me.”

“Why?” asked DJ. “She seems like a nice lady.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s nice. She’s just too wrapped up in her life, her career, and, more lately, her lover, to want to be bothered with a kid.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What about your dad? Or is he dead too?”

“He’s alive.” DJ tried not to think too hard about her dad’s lack of interest in her life, or how he’d shoved her off onto her grandmother last spring, resulting in this half-hatched plan to board potential models.

“Well, why aren’t you living with him?” demanded Taylor.

“He remarried a while back. My parents were divorced before my mom died. My dad’s new wife, Jan, well, she’s younger, and she had twin girls about a year ago. I lived with them for a while, but Jan assumed I was the built-in babysitter, and when I didn’t always agree, things got a little ugly.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Taylor shook out another cigarette and then held the pack out toward DJ. “Want one?”

DJ actually considered it but then shook her head. “I’m kind of into health. I do sports; I need a good set of lungs.”

“Whatever.”

“So, how about your dad?” asked DJ. “Why aren’t you with him?”

“My dad…” Taylor paused with her lighter just inches from the tip. She snapped the lid on the lighter closed, returned the cigarette back to the package, and frowned. “Ever heard of the Betty Ford Clinic?”

“For alcoholics?”

“Bingo.”

“Your dad is there?”

“For like the fifth time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, when he’s not at Betty’s place, he’s usually off doing something where a teenage kid doesn’t exactly fit in. Not that I haven’t tried. But my mom puts her foot down. Despite her selfishness with her own life, she still has this sense of parental responsibility where I’m concerned. Or so she says.”

“My dad puts on that act too,” admitted DJ.

Taylor went over to where she was still unpacking her bags and removed a purple dress that looked more like something you’d see on the red carpet than in a high school girl’s closet. She hung it on a hanger and then held it up to herself and looked in the full-length mirror on the closet door.

“That’s pretty,” said DJ. “Was it for a special event?”

“A party.”

“Must’ve been quite a party.”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

DJ coughed again. The leftover cigarette smoke was starting to make her eyes burn. “Do you mind if I turn on the fan in your bathroom? To clear the air, you know?”

“Whatever.”

DJ went and turned on the fan, noticing that the counter was filled with some very expensive-looking products and cosmetics. Taylor appeared to be pretty high maintenance—maybe even more so than Eliza. Still, other than her bad-girl attitude, which actually seemed to be improving slightly, she was rather interesting.

“Have you lived here very long?” Taylor asked as she put a fur-trimmed denim jacket on a hanger.

“I moved here last spring…just at the end of the school year.”

“So, did you go to the high school here?”

“For about a month.”

“What’d you think of it?”

DJ shrugged. “It was different from where I’d gone in California.”

“Different how?”

“Well, some things were the same—I mean, same kinds of cliques—but I guess what was different was trying to figure where I fit in. It’s like everything had changed. I guess it’s been changing ever since my mom died and I had to leave my old school. Starting over is kind of hard.”

“Tell me about it.” Taylor put the jacket into her nearly full closet and then went back to her pack of cigarettes. But this time before she lit one, she asked, “Do you mind?”

DJ shrugged again. “Maybe I could open a window? It’s probably starting to cool off a little by now. The ocean breeze usually picks up around this time of day.”

“Sure…whatever.”

DJ cranked open the window and then sat down on the window seat next to it. The fresh air was still a little warmer than the air-conditioned house, but it smelled good.

“So, where did you used to fit in?” asked Taylor. “Like before your mom died? Were you popular? Or a jock? Or what?”

“Kind of in between. I did sports, but I was pretty much well-liked. I had a variety of friends. I was happy.”

“Happy in high school. That’s something you don’t hear every day.”

“How about you? I mean, I’d think you’d be popular. I mean your mom’s a celebrity, and you’re really pretty.”

“Well, it’s not as simple as it seems. You see, where I went to school, almost everyone had parents who were either rich or famous or both, so it’s not like I was anything special. As a result, the girls were totally into their looks. I mean, I can’t believe how many had plastic surgery, boob implants, nose jobs, you name it. On top of that, you had to dress just so. Like everyday was this big fashion show. Really competitive, you know. A lot of pressure to look really hot.”

DJ nodded like she understood, and on some levels she did, but part of this made no sense. “But it seems like you would’ve fit in just fine.” And DJ could easily imagine Taylor blending in with the snooty girls at Crescent Cove High—the kinds of girls that DJ not only disliked, but simply didn’t get. Stuck-up girls were so pleased with themselves and their rich and pretty Barbie-doll-like existence—girls who still had a need to pick on others. Like why should they even care? You’d think they’d be happy just knowing that geeks, freaks, and jock girls were around, if only to make themselves look better. What was the point in torturing the less fortunate? DJ realized she was getting lost in her own thoughts just now. “I mean, you’ll probably be really popular at this high school.” Okay, now that sounded totally lame.

“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. Popularity is based on a lot of things, including conformity. And to be honest, that just doesn’t interest me much. There are some games I don’t like to play. I’d rather be myself; like you can take me or leave me.”

DJ was feeling slightly hopeful now. Maybe she had misjudged Taylor. Maybe there was more to Taylor than appearance. “I don’t like playing games either,” she admitted. “Well, other than sports. But I guess I’m not exactly a conformer either. In fact, I’m more of an outsider.”

“Well, I’m not saying I didn’t have my own group of friends,” Taylor said quickly, like she wanted to establish the fact that she wasn’t a loser. “And I could mostly trust them, but not always. Part of the problem is that guys tend to like me. So I dated a lot, and sometimes that got messy with some girls, the ones who get jealous. You know what I’m saying?” Taylor peered curiously at her.

DJ nodded like she knew, but the truth was she didn’t. Other than her friend Conner, who she’d shoot baskets with occasionally, she was pretty clueless when it came to the whole boyfriend thing. However, she was not about to admit that to anyone!

“Consequently, there were a few jealous girls at my school. You know, the kind of girls who think they’re better than everyone else and want everyone to know it. The kind who like to make others miserable.”

“So, it’s universal.”

“Yeah, and the dad of one of those girls practically owned Universal.”

“You mean the movie company?”

Taylor nodded. “He didn’t really own it, but the girl acted like he did. And when I started going out with her ex-boyfriend, you’d think I’d committed a felony. And this girl, because of her place on the social ladder, well, she made my life pretty miserable.”

“Oh…” DJ felt like she was in over her head now. Sure, Taylor had problems, but they were a totally different set of problems than what DJ had experienced.

“So, in some ways, it was a relief to leave.”

“Well, you probably won’t have to deal with anything quite like that here,” DJ assured her, although she wasn’t entirely sure about that herself.

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess it could be interesting.”

“I mean there are definitely some families with money in this town—old money, as my grandmother would say. Like that’s somehow superior. So there are a few girls at Crescent who can be a pain.”

“You’ll have to give me the lowdown on them before school starts.”

“Speaking of girls, have you met any of the others yet? Two more just arrived this afternoon.”

“No, I’ve been lying low.” She pointed to the nearly full closet. “And I’ve been freaking over the idea of having a roommate in here. There’s a serious lack of storage in this place. But I’m thinking first come, first serve. My roomie is going to be in for a big surprise when she finds out she only has one tiny drawer for her stuff.”

“You’re not the only one with closet problems. My grandmother is trying to figure out some additional storage solutions. But, besides that, your roommate won’t be bringing a lot of stuff with her.”

“You already know my roommate?”

“Not really well. But she used to live next door to us. She’s actually really nice. Her name is Rhiannon.”

“Rhiannon.” Taylor nodded. “I like that.”

“And she’s a really unique person. Really artistic and creative.”

Taylor seemed pleased. “I like that too. What does she look like?”

“She actually sort of fits her name. It’s Irish, you know, and she’s got this mop of curly hair that’s this great shade of auburn. The weird thing is that she doesn’t like her hair at all. She was talking about dying it black. But I think it’s really pretty as it is.”

“We’re never happy with our looks, are we?”

This surprised DJ. “I’d think you’d be happy.”

Taylor laughed and then took a long drag. “Are you kidding? Don’t you know that girls like me dream about being a blue-eyed blonde?” She shook her cigarette at DJ. “There were times I would’ve killed to have your hair. Is that your natural color?”

DJ reached back to where her ponytail was hanging down from her ball cap. She examined the end of it, which was fairly light, although that was deceiving. “It’s natural, in a way,” she said. “I used to do swim team, and the chlorine bleached it out. That and the sun and I could sort of pass as an almost blonde. Not that I wanted to.” She pulled off her ball cap. “See, it’s a lot darker at the roots.”

“You should get it highlighted.”

“That’s what my grandmother keeps saying.”

“Why don’t you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Rebellious I guess.”

Taylor smiled. “That’s a weird way to rebel.”

“Speaking of blondes,” said DJ. “We have another one in the house.” Then she told Taylor a little about Eliza and Kriti, including the discussion about designer bags and knockoffs.

“Seriously? Kriti’s family makes
good
knockoffs?”

“Apparently. I’m not an expert. But I think Eliza is. Her parents are really wealthy, and she said she paid $2,400 for a Bogata Vendetta or something like that.”

Taylor laughed. “You mean Bottega Veneta?”

“I guess…”

“Wow, she has one of those? Her parents must be loaded.”

“Pretty much so.”

“What’s she like? This Eliza Rich Girl, I mean.”

“She’s okay, I guess. I mean I don’t think she’s a snob exactly. Or if she is, she covers it up with lots of southern charm.” DJ imitated the southern accent. “She’s from Louisville and just as cute as a bug in a rug.”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “And the Indian girl, what’s her name again?”

“Kriti. She seems okay too. She’s an academic and doesn’t care who knows it. Her goal is to graduate at the top of her class and get a fantastic college scholarship. And I guess she’s a little into fashion too. At least she knows about fashion because of her parents’ business.”

Taylor’s brows lifted. “Hey, I wonder if Kriti can get us knockoffs at a discount. There’s a $2,000 bag that’s killer. I’ve been dying to get my hands on one. Did Kriti happen to mention if her dad does Fendi knockoffs?”

“Fendi—shpendy! I expect this from my grandmother, but just how do you girls know all these crazy designer names anyway?” demanded DJ. “It sounds like you’re speaking a foreign language to me.”

“It’s probably how you are with sports. You probably know all this jock-girl sports terminology that would be Greek to me.” Taylor snickered. “Of course, it’s not like I want to learn
that
language either. I would rather be dead than speak jock-eeze. But designers…well, that’s kind of important to a girl who wants to get ahead in this world.”