Projection (2 page)

“Thank you, boys and girls, that was beautiful.”

“That was lame,” said a too-loud voice behind Gretchen, setting off a round of snickering. Gretchen and Jessica rolled their eyes at each other. The voice belonged to Ariel Miller (of course), the girl who, despite everyone’s best efforts, still hadn’t figured out that “it’s best to shut up and let everyone think you’re an outsider than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” The funny part? Ariel had actually said those words herself. After which she’d said that she was “paraphrasing Mark Twain.” Whatever the hell that meant.

Which, in a way, was the point: Ariel could have been friends with Gretchen and Jessica if she weren’t so freaking weird. When she’d first moved to Delphi in the fourth grade, Gretchen and Jessica had reached out. It should have been a no-brainer. Ariel was pretty and very smart (smarter than Gretchen, probably) and since they wore school uniforms, nobody knew if she had the right clothes or not. Gretchen wanted her to be popular; they all did. But there was just something
off
about her. Mostly, she had zero respect for the social hierarchy that had formed long before her arrival. And when everyone found out that her mom was a lunch lady … well, after that it was full-blown banishment.

Not that Gretchen had anything against lunch ladies. Or Ariel’s mom. But Ariel should have copped to her true identity the second she’d set foot in school. Gretchen would have in
her
shoes.

“And now,” continued Mr. Tobin, his voice stronger in
an attempt both to quash and ignore the laughter, “I’ll ask you to welcome Mrs. Octavia Harris, Former President of the Oculus Society and its chief Ambassador. She is here to present the Plotinus Award to the female student who best embodies the ideals of a classical Greek scholar …”

“If my mom waves at me, I’ll kill her,” Gretchen whispered to Jessica.

Ariel snorted loudly. “God forbid the Oinkulus Society shouldn’t be the center of attention at a public event.”

Gretchen bit her tongue. She resisted the urge to spin around in her chair and tell Ariel to shut up. The girl was just jealous, obviously. That was where her weirdness and anger came from. It had nothing to do with her fired-lunch-lady mom. It had to do with the fact Ariel would never be part of the Oculus Society. And Gretchen knew that she was lucky;
her
mom was a two-time President. Their family could trace their lineage back to one of the founding members. But Gretchen’s mom was something special, too. She’d given the Oculus Society (a formerly stodgy Junior-League-type organization as far as Gretchen could tell) a glamorous makeover. With her flair for entertaining, Octavia Harris was responsible for some of Delphi’s most talked about parties. Gretchen clapped extra hard—as much in appreciation as to banish Ariel from her thoughts—as her mother rose from one of the white folding chairs on the stage and strode to the podium.

Octavia Harris smiled at her but didn’t wave.

Someday I’ll look like she does
, Gretchen thought, smiling back.

Octavia Harris was raven-haired, petite, and beautiful. She wore a white linen suit, well-chosen both for the weather and to stand out against her olive complexion. Beige patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps complemented the ensemble. And
the mysterious finishing touch: a thin gold anklet set around a yellowish-orange stone that always reminded Gretchen of honey in a jar. It seemed to glow as it caught the sunlight. Mom only wore it for special occasions. It was puzzling, though; it just didn’t seem to match her style, admittedly more nouveau-riche sparkle than bohemian glow. Gretchen had asked her once if it had sentimental value, but her response had been nonchalant.
Oh, it’s nothing. Just something I found at a vintage shop on vacation with your father before you were born. I thought it looked pretty
.

It did look pretty. Gretchen made a mental note that in addition to the Jimmy Choo heels, she would borrow it when she was older.

“Hello, graduates!” Mom’s voice boomed over the lawn. “Congratulations to you all. The Oculus Society was founded in nineteen oh-seven by six women of Greek origin whose husbands had made their fortunes in the silver mines of the American West. Appalled by the curricula of most public schools at the time—notably the failure to teach the works of great Greek philosophers such as Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle—these women set out to improve education in the United States in the classical Greek tradition. Named after the eyelike, circular window built into the dome of the Roman Pantheon, the Oculus Society continues its mission today, not only to improve education, but also to raise money for various charitable causes.”

“Yeah, right!” Ariel blurted from behind Gretchen’s chair. “Because getting wasted on ouzo at a black-tie dinner counts as charity.”

Gretchen’s hands balled up into fists. Jessica gently laid a hand on her shoulder as if to say,
not now
, but enough was enough. Gretchen turned around in her seat, careful not to
move her head so much that her cap fell off. Ariel’s dirty blonde hair had been blown out into a flip that grazed the tops of her shoulders. Her emerald eyes were rimmed in dark brown eyeliner. Gretchen hated to admit that the girl was beautiful.

“Will you just shut up?” she hissed. “You’re ruining my graduation.”

Ariel smirked. “
Your
graduation?”

“Give it up, Ariel,” Jessica chimed in, simultaneously trying to steer Gretchen back to face forward. “Nobody’s interested.”

“Really?” Ariel’s voice rose. “Then why are we having this conversation?”

Onstage, Gretchen’s mom fumbled with an envelope. “On behalf of the Oculus Society, I’m pleased to announce that the winner of this year’s Plotinus Award, which includes a five hundred dollar savings bond to be put toward college, is …” She held the paper at arm’s length so she could see it. It was something she’d been doing a lot lately. Reading glasses were out of the question, however. She was only forty-five. Her mother was not a big believer in succumbing to the aging process. As her eyes registered what was on the paper, she placed a hand over her mouth and then laughed. “Oh, my goodness. I swear, I had nothing to do with this, it’s the faculty and administration who make the decision … Gretchen Harris!”

Her mother’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers.

Gretchen whirled to find her classmates and the rest of the crowd staring at her and applauding. The red mortarboard on her head started to slide. Despite the shock and confusion, she reached up and caught it, expertly adjusting the bobby pin once again.

“I knew you’d win!” Jessica whispered excitedly. She squeezed her arm. “You were a shoo-in!”

Mr. Tobin stepped in front of the microphone. “Congratulations, Gretchen! Would you please stand up?”

Gretchen mustered a gracious smile and stood. Her heart thumped. She offered an embarrassed bow and wave to the crowd. But even with all of the cheering and clapping, she still could hear Ariel grumbling behind her.

“Well, now graduation’s been ruined for me, too. So I guess we’re even.”

Gretchen’s face was starting
to hurt from smiling. Every time she thought she’d posed for her last picture, someone else ran up to her.
I’ve gotta have a picture with the class president!
they all explained, as if it were the same thing as having a picture taken with the President of the United States. As she faced yet another camera, she felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. She’d miss middle school. She’d worked hard, and it wasn’t going to be easy to start at the bottom again as a freshman at the high school. On the other hand, how hard could it be? Some of Delphi’s wealthiest sent their kids to private schools, even boarding schools down the California coast or in New England. But the true elite sent their kids to the only public school in town because the Oculus Society’s primary mission was to improve public education. Gretchen’s mom and Jessica’s aunt and all the rest of them poured their hearts and souls and fundraising efforts into making Delphi High a shining example. Very noble and very convenient.
And worth every penny of the real estate tax
, Mom always said, whatever that meant.

Finally, after the last of the obligatory pictures had been taken and her classmates had gravitated back to their usual cliques, she grabbed Jessica.

“Come here,” she said. “You’re the only person in this entire school I haven’t taken a picture with today.”

“The only one? Really?” Jessica asked, arching an eyebrow. “Will I be seeing a picture of you and Ariel up on Facebook later, then?”

Gretchen made a mock-serious face. “Absolutely. And the caption’s going to say: buy a sweater because hell
has
frozen over!”

Jessica smirked, then threw her arm around Gretchen’s shoulder. Together they beamed into Gretchen’s phone.
This one
, she thought,
goes up on the bulletin board in my room
.

“Wait, what are you wearing tonight again?” Jessica asked.

“I
told
you already, remember? The green dress and the gold shoes.”

She’d been through all of this with Jessica over texts: Mom had made a two-hour drive into Beverly Hills last weekend (which was why Gretchen couldn’t hang out). They’d gone in search of a perfect dress for her to wear to the graduation party that Mom and Dad were throwing for the whole eighth grade class. They’d settled on a long, pale green Haute Hippie—elegant but casual. They’d also found a pair of gold Prada wedge sandals that she knew she’d wear all summer long. Normally, Mom didn’t make such an outrageous fuss on clothes and shoes for Gretchen, but she kept insisting it was such a special occasion and important for the future …

“Oh, right,” Jessica said.

Only then did it hit her. Mom had known all along that she was going to win that Oculus Society Award. Mom had been lying at the podium.

“I’m just asking because I don’t know what
I
should wear,” Jessica added.

Gretchen blinked. Her annoyance melted away. She felt a twinge of guilt. Jessica had no parents to take
her
shopping for a dress in Beverly Hills. Gretchen had been so busy
thinking about herself that she hadn’t even considered how hard this was for her best friend: no family present at one of the most important days of her life.

“Is your aunt here?” Gretchen asked, searching the swarm of families.

“I
told
you already, remember?” Jessica muttered, mimicking Gretchen. “She had to work this morning. Rob’s here, though. He went like this when I got my diploma.” She held up the thumb and pinkie of her left hand, then shrugged. “Michelle said she was going to try to make it.”

Michelle should rot in hell
, Gretchen thought, not for the first time. Without thinking, she looped her arm under Jessica’s and leaned in close. Since Jessica’s parents had died seven years ago in a car accident, she’d been living with her aunt Michelle. There was only one problem: Michelle didn’t comprehend that she was supposed to act—if not like Jessica’s mother exactly—then at least like someone who gave a shit. Worse, she made no secret that she resented being burdened with her sister’s kid before she had any kids of her own. (Once, Jessica had confided that Michelle had slapped her after she’d gotten caught snooping around in Michelle’s lingerie drawer.) The only upside was Michelle’s husband, Rob. He was a really nice guy—though more in a cool, older brother way than in a stepdad way. So while he could talk
Girls
(which Jessica wasn’t supposed to watch) and Adele (which he didn’t consider “real music”), he didn’t offer much in the way of parental guidance. And his problem was that he never intervened when Michelle got out of hand.

If it had been up to Gretchen, she would have called Child Protective Services and invited Jessica come live with her family. But Octavia Harris refused to get involved. Michelle was
a member of the Oculus Society, as was Jessica, as was Jessica’s deceased mother. And members of the Oculus Society didn’t cause problems in each other’s lives. Period.

“I just remembered that I have a white dress that would look
amazing
on you,” Gretchen heard herself say. “You should come over and try it on.”

Jessica didn’t hesitate. “Well, I was going to wear that black dress that I wore to the Valentine’s Dance, but if you think this would look better, I mean, I guess I could try it.”

“Definitely,” Gretchen said. And then she flipped her hand up in front of Jessica’s face, knocking her cap right off of her head.

“Hey!” Jessica laughed. She flipped her hand up to Gretchen’s cap and did it right back to her. Bobby pins went flying in all directions.

“Oh, thank God,” Gretchen said, smoothing down her dark hair. “I am seriously considering flunking out of high school just so I never have to wear one of those again.”

From her bedroom window
, Gretchen surveyed the backyard. It was transformed to the point that she didn’t recognize it, and she’d lived here her entire life. An enormous white tent covered most of the lawn; inside, hot pink and orange floor pillows lay strewn Moroccan-style around low tables covered with rich purple linens. Giant gold lanterns festooned the ceiling; potted plants lined the walls. Even the pool had been filled with floating candles and covered with a translucent dance floor. Gretchen knew exactly what Mom was going for: the illusion that you could dance above a cloud of fireflies.

It didn’t look
real
. Gretchen tried to stop smiling but couldn’t. Tearing herself from the window, she slipped her dress over her head and smoothed her hair one final time, then ran down the staircase and out the sliding glass doors to get a closer look.

Mom was inside the tent supervising the last-minute adjustments, having changed from her white linen suit into
black tank dress with a high slit up one side—all the better to show off all the hard work she’d been doing with her private trainer, a tattoo-covered guy named Rick who came to the house three mornings a week. She’d switched out her diamond studs for gold hoop earrings. One wrist was stacked with thick gold bangles. The anklet rested just above the strap of her black, high-heeled Louboutin sandals.