The Ivy: Scandal (27 page)

“C
an I interest you ladies in a cucumber sandwich?” a waiter asked, extending a silver platter.

“Thanks,” said Callie, taking seven and piling them one after another on a cocktail napkin. “What?” she added at the expressions on Mimi and Vanessa’s faces. “I’m hungry!”

Vanessa shook her head. “Food is supposed to be for show, not for eating!”

Callie shoved one of the tiny triangle sandwiches into her mouth. “That—is the most—ridiculous thing—I have ever heard,” she said between bites. “According to who?”

Vanessa tilted her head toward the gazebo in the back of the Hasty Pudding’s garden, next to the benches underneath the willow tree. “Who do you think?”

Callie turned.

Alexis Thorndike leaned against the gazebo’s white wooden railing, presiding over the party as per usual.

“Whatever,” said Callie, going to work on her last sandwich. “I’m so over all of this.”

“Say it ain’t so, Blondie,” cried OK, coming over to where the girls stood in a group near the flower beds lining the brick pathway winding up to the rear entrance of 2 Garden Street. He wore a white linen suit over a pink shirt, pulling it off without a second thought. Callie eyed him jealously, feeling frillier than she ever had in her
entire life, forced by Vanessa to wear a poufy pink dress covered in green bows that made her feel like an upside-down cupcake.

“Yes, cheer up,” Vanessa insisted. “We couldn’t have asked for better weather, and finals are still so f—”

Vanessa cringed, remembering that Callie might not make it that far. It was the second Sunday in May, and her hearing was only a week away.

“Where’d Matt go?” Callie asked OK grumpily.

“Last I saw him, he’d been unlawfully detained by a young lady over by the dance floor,” said OK. “Ah yes, see? Right over there.” Matt stood near the shiny wooden planks that had been laid out over the grass next to the gazebo, ready for the live band’s arrival at six. Brittney, a sophomore in the club, appeared utterly fascinated by him. Callie watched her pluck his glasses off his face and put them on her own, striking a
so how do I look?
pose.

Callie smiled in spite of herself. Although there was zero chance of a love connection—even glasses couldn’t change Brittney’s belief that Africa was a country—Matt’s confidence certainly seemed to have increased exponentially since Jessica’s visit.

“This punch is delicious!” Dana declared, returning from one of the tables set up along the far wall of the garden with her second or third cup. “What’s in it?”

“Uh…” Mimi looked at Vanessa. “Punch juice?”

“Delicious,” Dana repeated, smacking her lips together. “You know, I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised. When I accepted your invitation, I expected the worst; but I was wrong
to have prejudged all of your parties as hedonistic orgies. Tell me, are they always like this?”

“Oh yes,” said Mimi, nodding vigorously. “And they only become more…
civilisé
with every extra glass of punch!”

“Wonderful,” said Dana.

“It is, Dana,” said Vanessa, snagging two glasses of prosecco from a passing waitress. “It really is.”

“Fine,” said Callie, accepting the champagne flute from Vanessa. “Might as well try to enjoy it.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Vanessa.

“Uh-oh,” said OK. Callie followed his gaze to Matt and Brittney, who seemed to be refusing to return his glasses. “Excuse me, ladies,” he continued. “WonderPrince has some rescuing to do.”

“What’s that over there?” asked Dana, pointing at two large pieces of plywood arranged opposite each other on the lawn. Each had a small circular hole cut into one end and was elevated off the ground at a thirty-degree angle.

“Those are cornhole platforms,” Vanessa explained.

“What is this ‘cornhole’?” asked Mimi, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s a beanbag tossing game,” said Vanessa. “It’s fun. Each team of two stands behind their plywood and tries to toss a bean—or corn—bag through the hole in the other team’s platform. You get three points if you make it, and one if you land the bag on the platform.”

Mimi started at the platforms. “And how does one win this baghole?”

“
Corn
hole,” said Vanessa. “Whichever team reaches twenty-one first wins.”

“Let us play!” declared Mimi. Squinting, she sized them up. “I choose Dana,” she announced finally.

“Thank you,” said Dana, looking pleased.

“What!” shrieked Vanessa. “I’m the only one here who actually knows how to play!” she called, following Dana and Mimi over to the platforms.

“Thanks a lot,” said Callie, stooping to retrieve a beanbag.

“No offense,” said Vanessa. “I know you’re good with your feet on a soccer field and all, but I’ve seen your attempts at balance or aim in other scenarios and well…”

“Come on,” said Callie, tossing the beanbag up and catching it. “This is Mimi and Dana we’re talking about here. We can totally take—oops.”

Vanessa bent over to retrieve the bag that Callie had just dropped.

“Don’t say it!” Callie warned her.

“Wasn’t going to,” said Vanessa.

“
Qu’est-ce qui prend tant de temps?
” Mimi cried impatiently from behind the other platform. “Are you afraid?”

“Yeah,” Dana yelled, looking unsure how to trash-talk. “Are you experiencing anxiety over the possibility of losing?”

Callie laughed.

“After you guys!” Vanessa shouted.

Three seconds later Mimi’s beanbag soared straight through the hole in their platform.

“Beginner’s luck!” Vanessa called, watching her own beanbag fall about a foot short.

Mimi and Dana celebrated with a double high five. Then, with an underhand toss, Dana lobbed her beanbag through the air.

It landed on Vanessa and Callie’s platform, an inch away from the hole.

“What’s that? Four-nothing?” called Matt, approaching with OK. Brittney trailed at their heels.

“Uh…wanna come over here and give Little Miss Hopeless some pointers, Matt?” asked Vanessa, handing Callie a beanbag.

“Sure,” he said, looking grateful. “Now, Callie, just swing your arm back and then step forward as you throw—
oh
.”

Her beanbag had landed on the grass, midway between the platforms.

“Next time, you might want to try keeping your eyes open,” Matt suggested. “But not to worry, you guys can still catch—”

Mimi’s beanbag plopped, for the second time, straight through the hole.

“Crap,” said Vanessa.

OK had joined Mimi and Dana across the way, assuming the role—from the sound of it—of their coach.

Vanessa’s next toss landed on the platform, but Dana’s beanbag quickly flew back, striking the top of their platform and then sliding down through the hole.

“Ten to one!” OK announced loudly.

Keeping her eyes open wide, Callie threw her beanbag. This time, it fell about two-thirds of the way across.

“That was…better,” Matt encouraged, clapping a hand on her back.

Vanessa groaned. Callie giggled, picking up her champagne flute and taking a sip. “That was terrible!”

“I’m glad you seem to finally be enjoying yourself,” Vanessa muttered. “Oh, come on!” she yelled in disbelief as Mimi’s beanbag soared through the hole in their platform for the third time in a row. “That’s, like, statistically impossible!”

“I am
statistiquement impossible
!” Mimi screamed back when OK was done whooping and twirling her around.

Several other garden partygoers had gathered around to watch, including Tyler, who arrived just in time to make Vanessa miss her next shot.

“We call winner!” Tyler announced. Callie turned, but Tyler’s usual partner in crime, Clint, appeared to be on the other side of the party near the gazebo, socializing with his girlfriend and her standard gaggle of junior girls. Instead, Tyler stood with a group of seniors.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t look like they’ll have to wait long,” Matt muttered as Dana scored another point.

“Yeah!” OK yelled, hugging Dana. “That’s my Dana! Boo-yah!”

“Enough!” cried Dana, though she looked moderately excited.

“Hey!” Matt said a moment later. “You actually hit the bottom of the platform this time!”

“Woo!” Callie cried, raising her hands over her head.

Vanessa finally cracked a smile, even as Mimi sank her fourth shot through the hole.

“Seventeen!” OK screamed, beside himself.

“I must admit,” Tyler called, coming over to Callie, “after that soccer game, I am enjoying seeing you lose at something.”

“Enjoy this,” Vanessa muttered, sinking her first shot.

“Nice,” said Tyler. “You’ve got a good arm on you. Though I should know, given the way you used to abuse me.”

“Aw,” said Vanessa as Dana readied for her next throw. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” said Tyler, taking a sip of his beer.

“Well, good,” said Vanessa. Dana’s beanbag teetered on the edge of the hole and then fell through. “Because I’m seeing someone else now.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Tyler. “And who might that be?”

“Twenty points!” OK cried, running around in circles and trying to force Dana to do a victory dance. “Only one more and we win!”

“
We
?” Mimi asked. “When you have done nothing except to make me a headache?”

“I’d rather not say,” Vanessa said to Tyler.

“More like he doesn’t exist.” Tyler smirked.

“Oh, he more than exists,” said Vanessa. “In fact, he’s here now—right, Callie?”

“Uh—yeah, totally,” said Callie, trying to aim the beanbag.

“Is that so?” asked Tyler. “Where? Because I’d love to be introduced. After all, I’m technically the host.”

“Uh…” Vanessa faltered. “Um…well…”

“It is I,” Matt suddenly announced, throwing a stiff arm around Vanessa, “who is…her boyfriend.”

Callie dropped the beanbag and it fell—through the hole…in
her own platform. “Score,” she whispered awkwardly, picking it up.

“Tyler,” said Tyler, holding his hand out to Matt.

“Matt—aka Matt of Vanessa and…Matt.”

“That’s right,” said Vanessa, looking torn between relief and revulsion. “We have a nickname.”

“Blondie, throw the beanbag!” yelled OK.

“Oh,” said Callie, “right.” Deciding to try her original strategy, she closed her eyes and threw. Opening one, she saw the beanbag jutting off the closest end of Dana and Mimi’s platform.

“You did it!” Vanessa shrieked, breaking away from Matt.

“We won!” Callie screamed. “We won!”

“No you did not!” shouted Mimi from across the way as her beanbag soared through the air. It landed on the platform, missing the hole by a hair. “We did! C’est vingt-un, bitches!”

All of a sudden OK grabbed Mimi and kissed her on the lips.

“
Quoi
—what are you doing?” she cried, throwing him off with surprising strength for someone approximately one half of his weight.

OK froze for a split second, appearing panicked, before he seized Dana and kissed her on the lips, too. “Celebrating!” he cried. “Because I love—winning!”

Dana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking livid. “Adam
will
hear about this,” she threatened. “That is above and beyond what I ever—never…” Shaking her head, she stalked off.

“
Attends
!” Mimi cried after her. “Who will be my partner
pour le deuxième
match?”

“I will!” Vanessa volunteered, racing over to Mimi as fast as her wedges could carry her.

“Uh, hey, nice to meet you, man,” Tyler said to Matt, shaking his hand again before picking up the beanbags. “And good luck.”

“Er—thanks,” said Matt. “You know, she’s a real firecracker, I’ve always said—”

“Come on,” Callie interrupted, pulling Matt away. “We’ll be watching from over there,” she added to Tyler.

A few of the bystanders had set up some white folding chairs on the sidelines. “Here, take my seat,” one of the seniors, a guy who seemed vaguely familiar, said to Callie, standing.

“Oh no,” she said. “I couldn’t.”

“I insist,” he said, flashing her a smile that showed all of his teeth.

“But my friend—”

“I think I’ll go catch up with Dana, actually,” said Matt. “If you don’t mind, that is?”

“No,” said Callie, “of course not. See ya later,” she added, sinking into the seat at which the senior still expectantly gestured.

“Have we met before?” he asked, smiling again as the second game began.

“I do feel like maybe I’ve seen you somewhere….” She tried to place his face, distracted by the sight of Lexi and Clint. It looked like they were fighting—again—especially when Lexi stormed off, headed indoors. Breaking away from a nearby group, Alessandra quickly followed her—to offer consolation, most
likely, since these days it seemed those two were thick as thieves. “I’m Callie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Callie, I’m J—”

“Jeffrey?” she interrupted, vaguely remembering seeing a senior of similar height and build slipping out of Vanessa’s bedroom during the first week of school.

“Jeremy,” he corrected her. “But don’t worry: I get that all the time. My cousin Jeffrey goes here, too, and we’re practically twins.”

“
Oh
,” said Callie, watching a beanbag fly through the air. “I think that must be it.”

“So you’ve…met Jeffrey, huh?”

“Ye—
no
!” She laughed, realizing his implication. “I mean, yes, but only through my roommate.”

“Good,” he said.

They watched for a few more minutes in silence, during which neither team scored any points. Callie yawned.

“Bored?” asked Jeremy.

“No, just tired,” said Callie. “You know: reading period, finals, internships—life?”

“Sounds like someone’s a little more stressed than she should be on a gorgeous day like today.”

Callie smiled ruefully. “For some reason I never seem to find these types of parties relaxing.”

“Well, then, how about we get out of here, I buy you a real drink, and we can go relax somewhere else—like back at my place?”

Callie burst out laughing.

“It was worth a try,” he said, laughing, too.

“God, does that ever actually work?” she asked.