The Beautiful Between (8 page)

Later, when we’re smoking, Jeremy interrupts the silence by saying, “You gonna come on Saturday? I just mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

I’m perched against the planter outside the building. When I straighten up, the stone catches on my sweater and I feel a thread pull. I hope I haven’t just ruined the sweater.

“You think I shouldn’t?” I ask, disappointed, but then maybe Jeremy knows that I shouldn’t, that I wouldn’t know what to do at a party like that. He knows better than I if I have any chance of fitting in there. But I want to go, because sometimes I feel like I’m kind of missing out on high school.

“No, of course not, if you want to. I just didn’t want you to think you had to come with me. I’m okay, you know—you don’t have to babysit me.”

I burst out laughing. Jeremy looks hurt.

“I’m sorry, Jer, it’s just that … God, you’d be the one babysitting me! You go to these parties all the time; it’s not like you don’t know how to be there.”

Jeremy laughs too. “I meant, like, maybe you thought I’d get stupid drunk to drown my sorrows or something.”

“Hell, who am I to say that’s not what you ought to do?”

“Good point. Maybe drunk is a good thing.”

“I’ve never really drunk much.”

“Don’t worry, kid, I’ll make sure you get good and plastered. Come over before the party and I’ll take you there.”

“We’ll babysit each other,” I say, excited that I’m going to the party, thrilled and relieved that Jeremy has volunteered to be my guide.

“Absolutely.”

I love that he understood that I wouldn’t have wanted to go by myself. I lean back against the planter again, watch Jeremy exhale smoke in the opposite direction. He’s always careful not to blow it toward me, like he knows that even though I smoke down here with him, I don’t really like cigarettes.

11

Three days later and I’m searching for something to wear to the party. I wonder if Jeremy’s family will be there tonight. I’ve never met his parents. I think Kate will be there. She hasn’t been in school for a couple weeks now, and as much as I want to see her, I’m scared too. I know she’ll look different. Her hair could be gone by now.

I take care in getting dressed not because I want to look pretty for Jeremy, but because I think I’ll be more comfortable at the party if I like the way I look. But I don’t want to look overdressed. I mean, it’s just a party at someone’s house. I know the guys won’t be dressed up and the girls won’t be dressy so much as slutty, hoping to drag the guys’ attention away from the liquor. I wish Jeremy was a girl so I could call him and ask him what he was wearing.

I take a cab down to Jeremy’s. I’m not stopped in the lobby, but given a friendly nod from the doorman in the direction of the elevator. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know the floor, because there’s an elevator operator and he does. The mark of a really nice building in New York isn’t one where the security is so tight that they don’t let you in, but one where they know whether to let you in and take you where you’re going without your having to say a word.

The elevator opens directly into the apartment, and I have no idea which way to go. There’s no one in sight and the apartment is enormous. I silently narrate my entrance: The peasant girl barely steps inside the castle, scared of the sounds her shoes will make on the marble floor. Will anyone come look for her, or will she be left waiting, standing in the foyer forever? She dares not make a sound until someone comes to acknowledge her. Too frightened—and maybe a bit too stubborn—to move, she stands like a statue, until that’s what everyone thinks she is. Days will go by; weeks and months, even. The maids will dust her.

I hear feet shuffling toward me, shaking me out of my nightmare. Kate is walking toward me, sliding her slippers on the floor, in pajama pants and what must be an old T-shirt of Jeremy’s, or maybe their father’s. I’m relieved to see her—someone to keep me from becoming a statue. And I’m relieved because even though her hair is short, she doesn’t look sick. She looks the same.

“Hey, Connelly, you’re here.”

Now that I’ve been acknowledged, I can move. I begin with my mouth. “Yup, I’m here.”

I think she must be sick of people asking how she’s feeling, sicker still of people telling her they like her haircut. So I reach into my purse.

“I brought you a book.”

Kate looks surprised. “You did?”

I smile. “It’s one of my favorites.” I hold the book out toward her. It’s my own copy, and I don’t think I’ve ever given a book away before.

Kate flips through it. “It’s all underlined.”

I smile. “I know. I underlined my favorite parts. You can ignore that.”

Kate grins. “Nah, I’ll pay attention. Bet I’ll be able to tell a lot about you from the parts you marked.”

I smile. That sounds like something Jeremy would say.

“Where’s your brother?”

“In his room. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Even though Kate’s in slippers and pajamas, I feel underdressed here, like I was supposed to dress more like a grown-up would. My boots—black, pointy-toed, with high heels—clack loudly on the floor, and I consider trying to tiptoe.

“You excited about the party?” Kate asks me as we walk down the hall.

I shrug. “Kind of.”

Kate stops walking, and so do I.

“Why are you only ‘kind of’ excited about the party?”

I bite my lip. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be the belle of the ball.” She starts walking again, but I take a second before I follow her. I kind of can’t believe she said that, like maybe she knows about the fairy-tale world too.

Kate opens the door to Jeremy’s room without knocking, which I guess is normal for sisters and brothers. Jeremy’s room is a mess, and even though I’m such a neat freak, I find the mess comforting.

“Jer-bert, Connelly’s here.”

“Hey, Con, have a seat,” he calls. He must be in the bathroom—his voice comes from behind a door on the other side of the room. Kate climbs onto the unmade bed, and I guess that I’m supposed to sit on the edge of it, next to her. I remain standing. I’m highly aware that I’m a girl and Jeremy, obviously, is not. There are probably things in here that girls aren’t supposed to see.

“Ew, Jeremy,” Kate calls toward the closed door. “You left your underwear on the floor.”

“Oops,” Jeremy says, but there’s no embarrassment in his voice.

Kate turns to me. “Boys never put anything away.”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”

She pats the bed beside her. “Sit down.”

I sit. Kate says, “You look nice. I’ve never seen you dressed for anything but school.”

“Really?” I say, feeling relieved. “I wish you’d been there to tell me that when I was getting ready! I needed some serious advice.”

Kate smiles. “Well, you made the right choices.”

Kate’s said exactly the right thing. And I know she’s right, because surely Kate’s seen dozens of girls come over here to meet Jeremy before a party, so she knows what she’s talking about.

“Hey, Con.” Jeremy comes out of the bathroom with jeans and no shirt. He kisses me on the cheek. I really, really hope I’m not blushing.

“I promised you liquor, didn’t I? Katie, go get her something.”

“No, that’s really okay.”

“No way, Connie, we had a plan.”

Kate’s already marched out of the room.

“Where are your parents?” I’m not asking because I’m worried they’ll catch us drinking—I can’t imagine they care—but because I wonder if Kate will be alone tonight.

“At some dinner thing. They’ll be back before we will.”

“What about Kate?”

“Our housekeeper’s here.”

Kate comes in with two bottles of beer in her hand. Nothing fancy, just Bud Light. Jeremy twists off the tops and hands me one, which I begin drinking dutifully. I didn’t know you could twist off the tops of these kinds of bottles. I nurse my beer. Jeremy puts on a shirt. Kate climbs back onto his bed and gets under the covers like she’s settling in for the night. Jeremy leans down, gives her a kiss, and tosses her the remote.

“No watching scary movies.”

Kate wrinkles her nose. “I can watch whatever I want.”

“Yeah, but then who gets woken up at three in the morning when someone else can’t sleep?”

“You do,” Kate says proudly. “But that’s totally your job.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Look it up in the Big Brother’s Guidebook.”

Jeremy grins. “I’ll do that, kid. Good night.”

“‘Night!” Kate calls after us.

In the elevator, Jeremy says, “She likes it better in my room.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. Hers has all that medicine in it, but she liked it better in mine before too. I think ’cause it’s messier. She’ll never make a mess of her own, but she likes mine.”

I smile, because I completely understand that.

Jeremy knows exactly when to arrive at Brent Fisher’s so that it’s already crowded, but not packed. We settle on a leather couch in what looks like Brent’s parents’ study and drink beer. The apartment smells like smoke, and someone says that it’s a good thing Brent’s parents won’t be back for a week; it’ll give the place time to air out.

“Cole! Sternin!” Mike Cohen calls to us from across the room. “You made it.”

Jeremy nods, smiling.

“You want a beer?” he shouts. Jeremy and I hold up our drinks to show that we already have beer.

“Isn’t this Fisher’s party?” I whisper to Jeremy, feeling cool enough to refer to Brent by his last name.

“Mike Cohen likes to play the host at every party, no matter who’s throwing it.”

I nod. “I see.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Jeremy says, and I like the implication that this is the first of many of these kinds of parties.

Everyone comes to Jeremy, and since I’m sitting next to him, someone is almost always talking to me too. The beer makes me warm.

I see Brent across the room, leaning in close to kiss Marcy McDonald’s neck. Marcy surveys the room, clearly relishing her role as the lady of the house. I glance at Jeremy to see if he’s noticed her. I know I’m not his date or anything—it’s more that I’m worried he’ll be upset to see her. I have a feeling that whatever it is that broke them up has something to do with Kate. It’s the only thing I can imagine Jeremy getting that upset about.

Jeremy is looking right at her. He looks at me, quietly angry.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say, even though I know I’m getting drunk and I’m a little worried about how it’s going to end up.

“Okay.” He takes a breath and stands up, going in the opposite direction from where Brent and Marcy are standing. With any luck, they’ll have moved by the time he comes back.

They do move—toward me. Just like that, Marcy is sitting next to me. She perches on the couch, perky and straight-backed. I’m sunk in, my bare arms sweating against the leather. It’s like I’m Cinderella, the messy girl covered in soot, and she’s one of the prince’s other suitors; pristine and poised, light on her feet, bred to be the girl he chooses.

“So, Connelly, you and Jeremy, huh?”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows my name, even though we’ve never really been introduced—after all, I know hers—but I am. I try to sit up too, and immediately regret the attempt; I’m settled so deeply into the couch that I have to use the arm of the couch to pull myself up, like I’m such a mess I can’t even sit up on my own.

“What?” I say dumbly, so embarrassed by now that I’ve forgotten what she said.

“He’s a good guy. Just, you know, stay on his good side.”

Her breath hangs in the air between us, smelling of cigarettes and liquor. I guess mine smells like that too.

“Marcy, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ll find out,” she says, and makes a big show of crossing her legs and nodding knowingly. I don’t want to participate in this conversation, and I think that if I just sit here quietly, she’ll go away. With Jeremy gone, no one else is coming over to talk to me.

Now he’s coming back. Oh shit. I want to sink into the couch. Actually, I’d prefer that Marcy sink into the couch, all the way in and through to the other side, and then Jeremy can sit right where she’s sitting now, hand me my beer, and everything will be fine.

“Hey, Marce,” Jeremy says politely.

She looks up at him. “Hiya, Jer.”

He hands me my beer and offers her the other.

“No thanks. You know I don’t like beer.”

“I forgot,” he says, but then he takes a swig from the bottle that she just refused, like he’d always planned to keep it for himself. He looks down at her, deliberately but not impolitely, waiting for her to get up and walk away.

She begins to stand. “Listen, Jer, I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I never did anything wrong.” And then she walks away, presumably to bitch about us to someone else.

Jeremy sits down next to me. I know he’s still not going to tell me what happened between them, but he doesn’t have to now. Just knowing that she hurt him is enough to make me hate her too.

“You having fun?” Jeremy asks me.

“Well, the last three minutes notwithstanding—yeah, I’m having a great time.” I smile wide, and Jeremy grins back at me.

It’s after two when we leave the party. Jeremy is clutching my upper arm. I don’t think I’m that drunk, but he seems to feel responsible.

“I really am fine, Jeremy.”

“Whatever. I’m walking you home.”

We stop outside my building and Jeremy lights us two cigarettes.

“It’s nice out.”

“No it’s not, kid. You’re just too drunk to notice how cold it is.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

I stick my tongue out at him and he grabs me and messes up my hair.

He tosses the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

“Now remember, lots of water, and try to sober up some before you fall asleep.”

I nod obediently.

“You’re going to have a hell of a headache in the morning,” he says, almost apologetically.

“I don’t mind,” I say cheerfully. I’m such a dork that I’m excited to have a hangover.