New Girl (8 page)

Max smiled. “What?”

“A pond? So, like, the brown is mud and the green is pond scum?”

He laughed, too, sitting back down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I laughed and focused back on my canvas.

The end of class came, and we were able to reveal our paintings to each other. I actually kind of liked mine. It didn’t look like a photograph or anything, but it really looked like Max.

“You ready?” I asked him.

He furrowed his brow once again at his painting and said, “I guess.”

We turned around our paintings. I don’t think I’d laughed so hard in weeks. I was one big circle with pink tinge in my cheeks, little dots for freckles, and huge blue-green-brown eyes. I had no eyelids, and my lashes were like little black spiders.

“All right, all right, so I’m
not
an artist.” He put his canvas back on the easel. “But at least I got your eyes right.”

The rest of the week passed by in a frenzy of getting situated in classes and talking about the year full of work that lay before us. I could already tell that the huge studio was going to be my sanctuary, because as far as the other classes went, it was looking like the year wouldn’t be an easy one. Manderley had block scheduling, so one day we’d have four classes, and then the next day we’d have four different ones. Fridays we had all of them, but they were cut in half. On A days, I had English, World History, Algebra II and Painting. On B days, I had Gym (a bummer because at my old school we didn’t need to take it in senior year, and also because it’s at
freaking
8:00 a.m.), Biology, French II (a breeze, since my Paris-born mother had mostly taught me the language) and study hall (which I could hardly believe was a real thing).

A couple days into this schedule, I approached Blake in the dining hall as we slathered bagels with cream cheese, and she assured me things would settle down soon.

“It’s always like this,” she said. “It’s superbusy and then teachers cool off. Trust me, two weeks from now it’ll be ten times better. It’s like they sprint and then get tired and drag their feet for the rest of the year.”

I saw her and Cam every day in the hallways and a few times during meals. They were clearly a very happy couple, and I got along with both of them. I saw a few other people in the halls that I’d met, but no one said much more than a passing hello. I didn’t see Max as much as I wanted to, but when I did, he was usually coming in from lacrosse practice with slightly flushed cheeks and a sheen of sweat on his sculpted cheekbones.

It was odd for me to be mostly solitary. Back home I was out all the time and did something at least
kind
of social every day even if it was just watching TV with Leah. I was missing home more each day. Every memory I had of home was suddenly set in a perfect sunny day, whereas Manderley was set to the backdrop of gray rain and cold drafts that seeped through ancient walls.

I was alone and cold, and since the food was nothing like my mother’s or what I was used to, I was hungry. Even the salad, usually a safe go-to, tasted like nail polish remover.

It was really hard to stay positive. And that’s normally a talent of mine.

Unable to simply quit school or even tell my thrilled parents about the mild disappointments of the past week, I sat by myself and read or did homework during meals, went to class alone, and then headed to my room where Dana would look disappointed to see me and then ignore me. Sometimes I wanted to just kick her in the shins and tell her to stop being such an unpleasant cloud of gloom, but then I’d remember Becca—it was hard not to, when my side of the room still displayed a wallpaper of her pictures—and feel guilty again.

So that put me in the dining hall at nine at night on my first Friday evening. I was filling my travel mug with hot chocolate. I’d decided I wasn’t ready for bed and that I didn’t want to spend time in the same room as Dana quite yet. I figured I’d read
To Kill a Mockingbird
and try to find the deeper motifs in the rotunda until I got tired.

It was meant to be a social place, but the chairs were clearly not built with comfort or extended sitting in mind. They were all stiff, and some of them were mysteriously itchy. The rotunda itself was pretty noisy, what with the entrance hall directly beneath us, but it was better than my room.

My hot chocolate looked thin and watery, but it was deceptively delicious. I turned to see Blake putting a piece of bread in the toaster.

I summoned the nerve and then said, “Hey, Blake.”

She looked up, and took a second to register. “Oh, hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

“That’s okay, I just walked up.”

She smiled kindly. “I’m just taking this up to my room or I’d sit with you.”

“Oh, me, too,” I said, not wanting her to think I was desperate. “I’m just getting some of this and then reading a little for English.”

“I suggest reading on the second floor of the library. Have you been up there yet?”

“Not yet.”

“There are some spiral stairs near the back of the library that lead up to a bunch of study rooms. Go into the room right across from the landing.”

“What is it? Am I allowed?”

She giggled. “Yes, it’s the senior study room. There’s a gas fire in there, and a bunch of armchairs. It’s
really
nice. It’s empty a lot at night. Most of these kids do their homework right after classes.”

“I’ll go check it out, thanks.” I brought my hot chocolate to my lips.

“Oh, and hey,” she added quickly, “we’re going down to the boathouse tonight, you want to come?”

“Um…” I scrunched up my face in consideration.

“I know you can. Harper Lee can wait until tomorrow.” She looked knowingly at me. “You just don’t want to go. Well, look, it’ll be better this time. Last time you went, it was just a little weird. The last party we had last year was the one when…Becca went missing. Not only that, but she was the one who kind of…started the parties down there.”

“Oh…” Then the question I’d been waiting to ask all week fell from my lips like an anvil. “What…what happened to her?”

Blake’s toast popped up in the toaster. She removed it and concentrated on smothering it in butter and jelly. “She and Max got into a fight about something to do with Johnny…and it was right after Dana and she’d had a fight…and then the next thing we knew she was just gone. So was the training sailboat.” Her hand slowed on the knife. “It was really strange. There was a horrible storm brewing, so it doesn’t make sense for her to think she could go out in the boat…that would be suicide. But maybe that’s what it was…or maybe she was pushed out onto the boat. Or maybe she just left, and the boat thing was a coincidence. It’s really not clear what happened.”

Blake went silent, and it was clear to me that she’d spent a lot of energy trying to figure this out.

“That’s awful.”

“It was also the last night though, so she might have just called a cab and left for the summer. She had her purse on her. And her family is incredibly rich. I don’t know… It just doesn’t make
sense.
I’m sure you’ve heard all of the talk about it. All the theories.”

I shook my head. “No, not really. People talk about her a lot, but…what do you mean by
theories?
”

She sighed and took a bite of her toast. “She’s been missing for so many months now that it’s kind of…the longer she’s missing, the more likely it is she won’t come back.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“So I guess…” Blake went on, “I guess people are starting to wonder if she was killed.”

“
Killed? Really?
By someone—by a student?”

She nodded somberly. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe, but the whole thing is so surreal.”

“Who do they think did it?”

“You know how it is—everyone became a suspect at one time or another, really. Rumors are like that. Since she and Max were a thing,
he
became the most consistent rumor....”

I felt like my blood had frozen. I pictured Johnny, asking me to play beer pong, and smiling at me with blond hair almost touching his bright eyes. I thought of Dana, so deep in mourning she couldn’t seem to see straight.

And of Max. Max looking into my eyes. I’d looked into his, too. He wasn’t capable of murder; surely I would have seen it. I knew that wasn’t true—I didn’t even know him. But still, I couldn’t imagine it.

“But she’s not even necessarily dead,” she added quickly. “A lot of people think she’s alive. That’s just as likely.” She looked at her toast for a quiet moment. “So you’ll come?”

“Come?”

“To the party tonight.”

No. No. Say no.
“Sure.”

“Great! Any time after eleven.” She gave a small smile and then walked back out of the hall.

I set off for the library a moment later, and as I walked, my mind reeled as I thought about the missing girl. No one knew what had happened to her, and yet this time last year she’d been walking the same halls as me. It had been her first year, too. Had everyone been as chilly toward her? Probably not. She was probably
why
they were like that toward me. They all hated me for coming along.

I was like the new baby sibling that everyone resented.

The study room was empty when I arrived. The lights were off, and I had to feel around the walls until I found a switch. But rather than turning on a fluorescent overhead as I’d expected, it turned on a floor lamp in each corner of the room. They illuminated a smallish, cozy room paneled in dark wood, with comfy-looking armchairs and couches filling the place. Along one wall, there were desks with those old-fashioned green bankers’ lights with the gold, beaded pull string. Right in the middle was a huge ornate mantel, with a modern electric fireplace. I flicked on a light switch and fire burst into life.

This, I supposed, was the charm of Northern states and cold places. It was a different type of charm and warmth than I was used to, but as I read for the next few hours with the fire warming my bare feet and I drank my hot chocolate, I could see that this wasn’t bad, either.

I fell asleep and into another strange dream, as I had on my first night.

I was standing on the beach again. Someone was yelling at me. It was a male voice. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let myself. I felt determined and strong, but sick and weak all at once. Everything was blurry, as if I was looking through the water of a chlorine pool.

My chest stung and my head pounded. I wanted to hit him, whoever he was. I wanted to scream back at him. But no…I didn’t need to. He was wrong. He’d see. I wasn’t like he thought I was. I could be better. I would be from now on....

CHAPTER SEVEN

I AWOKE WITH A START AND LOOKED AROUND
, disoriented.

I had no way of knowing what time it was. In a world where cell phones were barely allowed, you’d think there would be a clock on every wall. But there wasn’t. I put the fire out, turned off the lights and ran to my room. It was eleven forty-five. Just in time for bed, and I was fully awake.

I remembered Blake’s invitation. I wasn’t sure if I had the nerve to go down alone.

I got that butterfly flutter in my stomach as I wondered if Max was there. I ignored the thought. Of all ways to start off at Manderley, developing a crush on the most unavailable guy there was probably not the best.

The flutter turned to a shudder as I went down to the beach.

The breeze coming off the ocean felt good. Refreshing. A little bit like home, only way colder than usual. The air, in only these few days, had dropped a few degrees. But at least today it hadn’t rained.

I clutched the fabric of my new peacoat closer to me and walked to the boathouse. I measured my breath carefully, loosened my grip on the book I still had in my hand and opened the door. I could tell immediately that the mood here was better than at the last party. Not so somber. I was met with a few astonished faces, and an immediate approach from my across-the-hall neighbors.

“You came!
Finally!
” Madison said, her smile big.

“I did.” I smiled, too. “I’m sorry I’m here so late.”

Julia hooked her arm with mine, as if we were best friends. “It’s no problem.”

I could smell that she’d already been drinking, and I could see by looking at and hearing everyone else that they had been, too. She dragged me across the musty room.

“Take a shot of this,” she said, holding up a blue bottle. “It is whipped-cream-flavored vodka and it is
so
good.”

I let her pour it into a shot glass and tried not to mentally relive the experience of the last time I’d had straight liquor. No one I hung out with back home really drank because we were always driving places, and didn’t want to bother with the expense anyways. Sometimes at parties if someone else was driving I’d have a drink or two if Leah was, but not usually. One time, we were at my friend Lucy’s aunt’s house on Vilano Beach. I had about seven margaritas, made for me by someone else. That night I learned what it felt like to not care about how intimately close I was becoming with a toilet, and what it feels like to wake up with the imprint of a bathmat on my cheek. Bad. That’s what it feels like. Freaking. Bad.

Especially when it doesn’t go away for the next forty-eight hours. The sickness or the imprint.

“How do you get this stuff in here, anyway?” I asked, warily postponing the shot.

“Take it!” Madison said, and the two of them clinked their glasses with mine, sloshing the slightly syrupy liquid onto my hand.

Three, two, one. And with the burning, numbing
yuck
came the memories and the churning stomach. They laughed at my facial expression, and I indicated that Madison should hand me a can of Sprite. My head spun instantly, and the deep bass of whatever heavy bass song was playing vibrated right through me.

“Whoo,” I said, after a few sips of the soda. “It’s been a while.”

“Let’s do it again!” Madison said, and poured another.

“No, really, I had a terrible hangover once—”

Julia put a hand on my shoulder. “Look. I drink all the time. I’m not gonna let you get a hangover. Cuz we’re friends, right?”

I mean, that might be a slight exaggeration.... “I believe you,” I said, “I just—”

Before I could object, they refilled my glass. I hesitated before taking it with them, and decided that one more shot couldn’t hurt. And clearly this was the way to get in with these girls.

I downed some more Sprite and took a deep breath.

“So,” said Julia, inching a little closer to me. “So. Who do you like?”

“Who do I what?”

“Like! I mean, so far do you think anyone is hot?”

I tried not to think of Max Holloway. “I don’t really know anyone yet.”

“You don’t need to
know
them.” Madison looked at me like this was obvious.

I felt under pressure, trying to think of someone, anyone besides Max to say. But I couldn’t. “Really, I don’t even know anyone’s name.”

“Just look around and point at someone!” Julia said, a little louder.

They were clearly not letting this go. I looked around for someone to point to, and landed my gaze on Johnny. He was smiling at some girl with strawberry-blond hair. I thought of what Blake had said earlier.

“Johnny?”
Madison asked.

The girls exchanged a meaningful look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean him, I was just looking at him. I didn’t mean him—”

“Let’s go back outside.” Julia pointed toward the door.

Madison grabbed me and the next thing I knew, we were outside and walking away from the house. My flip-flops slapped cold pricks of sand into my calves.

“What?” I was sure my face was red, and was glad we were in such shrouding darkness.

Julia looked as if she was trying to say something tactfully. “That’s Johnny Parker.”

“Like I said, I didn’t even know him or anything. I didn’t say anything about thinking he was cute.”

“Well, do you?”

This is the kind of question that girls ask each other, with the one intention of screwing the other over by her answer. So I just said, “I have no opinion on him, because I don’t know him.”

“There are only two guys here who are off-limits,” said Julia. “One is Johnny Parker—”

She followed my gaze as it shifted over her shoulder. Max had just loped down the steps. Madison said,
“Shh…”

“How many cats did you say your mom has? Ten? That’s
like so many.
” Julia’s voice was loud and fake. My face grew hot.

Max looked at us as he walked by, and then went through the boathouse door without a word.

“I don’t have
any
cats, why did you say that?” I asked.

“Why do you care? Oh, no, you like
him,
don’t you?”

“What? Like him—no!”

They clearly wanted to back me into the Bitch Corner. They exchanged another look.

I looked at each of them, my heart skipping a little at being so accurately pinned. “I don’t
know
either
of them.”

“But do you think you might like Max?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because.” Julia looked helplessly at me, and then to Madison.

Madison gave me a pitying look. “Because you really shouldn’t. He’s not going to like you back.” She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Not because there’s anything wrong with you…just…”

“He’s in love with Becca. Like
crazy
in love.”

I shook my head, and smiled. “No, no I don’t like him. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” Madison looked relieved. “We just don’t want you to get hurt. And when she comes back…”

“
If
she comes back.” Julia looked morosely down at her feet.

“Right.
If…
if and when she comes back, you just wouldn’t want to…”

“No, really,” I said, my voice unnaturally high, “it’s fine! Let’s go back inside.”

We did, the two others drifted off, and I found myself surprised to learn that Dana was
not
in our room back up at the school. She was here. And by the looks of it, she was wasted. When I passed her she didn’t notice me.

Johnny was at the makeshift bar, pouring himself a shot of Captain Morgan.

I stood next to him. “Hit me.”

He laughed, and wordlessly screwed the cap back on the Captain, and opened the blue bottle of vodka.

“How’d you know that’s what I wanted?”

“It’s girl stuff.” He cast a side-glance at me and smiled.

“Hey, I don’t need to pretend to be tough,
Captain Morgan.
” I smiled. “I hate straight liquor. At least this stuff is easier.”

“Well, then,” he said, handing me my shot, “cheers to not pretending.”

We clinked, swallowed, and then I made that face again. He popped open a soda and handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I swigged it. “I had a can, but I don’t know where it is.”

“Never leave a drink unattended and then drink from it again. That’s how girls get roofied.”

“Are there people here who would do that?”

He furrowed his brows. “I really don’t think so. But Ricky is the pill guy.” He shrugged. “You should just always be careful anyway.”

“There it is!” Johnny said, as I made the winning cup in beer pong. “You finally made one, and right when it really mattered.”

He smiled at me.

“Took long enough.” I smiled back, all too aware that Max had just come into our part of the room.

“Who wants next?” Johnny asked loudly.

For a small moment I hoped Max would volunteer.

“We do!” Blake said, pulling Cam to the table.

Probably for the best—I didn’t need to make a fool of myself when I knew he’d be watching.

“Your shot,” Johnny said, nudging me with his elbow.

I aimed, shot and missed.

My head spun every time Cam or Blake made a shot and I had to take a sip of the vodka and pineapple that she’d made for me. Finally they made their last cup, and Johnny and I had lost. I tried very hard to concentrate on the game, but even though my eyes were on the red cups, my brain was in the crowd around us.

I turned to Johnny with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I’m so bad!”

I sipped my drink and wavered a little. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.