Doreen (15 page)

When Heidi became inconvenient, he tried to make her disappear. He thought it would be easy to do, and cheap. In the end it was neither, Heidi made sure of that, but she was a stranger, a kind of servant, actually. She meant nothing to him.

But Doreen was Roland's daughter. A fresh chance for something real. If they played it right, they could make him care deeply. Doreen could make him feel like he had everything he always wanted. And then, with Heidi's help, Doreen would take it away. Like that. No warning.

They would present Doreen to Roland as his own Oz, his paradise. They would give him a glimpse and then snatch it away, send him back to Kansas alone and unloved. Then he would know what it feels like to have to live without color, in a world of black and white. And Heidi could finally be the one to laugh at
him
.

When Gordon saw her coming out of the dorm on the night of the Fall Dance, Doreen was afraid that he might start weeping.

“I told him not to blubber. But it was not displeasing,” said Doreen. “In the limo on the way over he kissed me, and I think I almost felt something.”

“That sounds like progress. Anyway, you look
wicked
,” Heidi said, mocking their New England classmates who were always going on about wicked awesome, wicked fun.

“You look totally awesome, too. I, like, love your outfit,” Doreen drawled.

“What? This old thing?” Heidi twirled around. She'd chosen a black tight-fitting Versace embellished with bodacious black ostrich feathers around the hem and sleeves and accessorized with insanely yellow Louboutin platform pumps. Her lips were shiny, luscious and red, and her hair was piled on her head just like it was nothing at all for her to look like that and be like that.

“Honestly,” said Doreen, “I don't think I've ever in my life seen anybody look so incredibly cool.”

Heidi felt her heart flush. Doreen's praise came less easily now, so it meant more. She was surprised by how much it gratified her.
Careful there, kiddo
, said the voice in Heidi's head.
Trust no one.

“There you guys are. I looked for you on the bus. But I should have known you would find your own means of transportation.” Biz approached the twosome. Heidi recognized the red strapless dress Biz wore as the same Carolina Herrera from the picture they took on the day they met Doreen.

“Why, is that Elizabeth Gibbons-Brown at a school dance? I never thought I'd see the day.”

Biz hiked up the dress under her armpits. “I decided I should make at least one of these things before I graduate. Rite of passage and all that. Memories, et cetera.”

“All dressed up like a lady! And I can't help but notice a certain accessory missing from around your neck. Why, Biz, could you have come all this way without your camera?”

Biz smiled. “I thought maybe I'd try taking mental pictures this time. You know, like a participant.”

“Mumzy will be ecstatic.”

“Say one word, Heidi Whelan, and you'll lose handbag privileges. For life.”

“Oh, calm down.” Heidi couldn't help grinning. She was glad to see Biz at the dance. Sure, the outfit seemed like an afterthought, accessorized, predictably, with Biz's sad wire glasses and makeup-free face. But at least she'd bothered to tie her hair back and trade in her beat-up All Stars for a pair of prim ballet flats. And to travel without her camera. What was going on with little Bizzy? Heidi would have to get to the bottom of that later.

“Wait! I can't believe it. Are those
earrings
in your ears, Elizabeth? I didn't even know your ears were pierced! Jesus, where have you been hiding that set of sparklers? Wow-ee.”

“Claws off, vulture,” said Biz, swatting Heidi's hand away. “These belonged to Grandmère Kiki. They are off-limits to the likes of you. Anyway, you look nice. Doreen, you're looking really nice, too. Hey, Doreen? What's wrong?”

Doreen's face had drained of all color. She seemed afraid, as if it wasn't her friend Biz who had approached, but some sort of otherworldly creature, a demon or spirit.

“That dress,” she said.

Biz looked down at the three-thousand-dollar dress as if it was a bedsheet. “It's the one you wore. In the picture I took for your GryphPage profile.”

“I know what it is. What I don't know is why it is on your body. Why did you wear it here? Are you trying to make fun of me?”

“Huh? No! Of course not! I just, I had to wear something. And this one, I remembered about how we got reacquainted that day. I actually thought you might like—”

“Well, it looks terrible. Really awful.” Doreen clenched her fist like she was ready to sock Biz in the kisser.

“Doreen!”

“What? Heidi, you know it's true. You look ridiculous, Elizabeth. You look like you're trying to dress up as someone else. Me, I guess. Is that right? Are you trying to copy me?”

“No! No, I just . . . I didn't mean . . .” Biz's voice shook and her eyes misted. “I didn't realize . . .”

“Stop it, Dorie!” Heidi put her hands on Biz's hunched shoulders. “You don't look ridiculous, Biz. You look nice. Sweet and girly, for once, and the dress fits
you
perfectly. I can't think of what has come over our friend here. I imagine it's nerves? Is that right, Doreen? Are you nervous? Or has some devil possessed you?”

“What? I—” Doreen shuddered, as if recovering from a bad dream.

“We save our venom for outsiders,” Heidi scolded. She did not even attempt to hide her disappointment.

Doreen looked from Heidi to Biz and then back again. “Oh, Bizzy, I'm so sorry!” She threw her arms around her cousin. “Forget what I said. It's all a bit much for me here, I guess. You look fab, really. Maybe I'm a little jealous is all.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“You look much better in that thing than I did. Look at you! Where have you been hiding that figure?”

Doreen kiddingly tickled her ribs. Biz blushed. Heidi felt herself release tension. All seemed right with the world again.

“Forgive me?” said Doreen.

“There's nothing to forgive,” said Biz.

“Good. Now since you don't have a camera, I will have to do the honors for once. We need some photographic evidence of you in a dress!” Heidi and Biz posed head to head as Doreen snapped a picture with her cell phone. Biz even smiled a little.

“I'm in the picture.” Biz looked down at the image on Doreen's phone.

“Now you know how it feels,” said Doreen.

“You really look beautiful, Biz,” said Heidi. Bad hair, no makeup, no natural gifts to speak of, and it was true, Biz practically glowed.

“Thanks! So! This is a school dance.”

The three friends turned and gazed into the party. The grand ballroom of the old Hamilton Colonial Hotel was graceful and elegant, and the lighting and decorations equaled the scale and taste of the space. Even the band was surprisingly hip. This was a party designed for the sons and daughters of the East Coast elite, kids who had seen it all. Dolled up in their finest, the Chandlerians danced and munched and performed the awkward rituals of teenage seduction. Deep down, in a part of her that she let nobody see, not ever, Heidi was impressed.

“Ah, well, here come our dashing gentleman callers,” Heidi said with a flick of her head. Gordon Lichter and Peter Standish approached the girls bearing glasses of punch and identical goofball grins typical of the recently stoned. Tieless, in a gorgeous bespoke wool suit, Peter looked as comfortable at a high school dance as he did at the Ritz. Heidi's insides fluttered.

“Welcome back.” Heidi accepted the punch that Peter held out for her. It had been spiked, of course, with—what was that? Scotch. Single malt. She would have preferred the booze straight, obviously, but one had to at least attempt to maintain appearances. “How was your foray in the parking lot?”

“Very, uh, refreshing,” said Gordon.

Peter grinned and pulled Heidi in by the waist. He smelled wonderful. “Sneaking in a joint in a high school parking lot, spiking the punch with booze. I feel like a kid again.”

“Listen to you, the wise old man,” said Heidi.

“Cradle robber.” Peter gave Heidi a deep kiss that was shorter than she wanted by an hour.

“Biz, you know Gordon, right?” said Doreen.

“Ha! I've known Gordy, like practically my whole life.”

“Our mothers are bridge partners,” Gordon explained.

“Of course,” said Doreen. “Well, this is Peter Standish. Peter, my cousin Elizabeth.”

“What's up, Biz?” said Peter.

“Hiya. It's been ages.”

“You guys know each other?” asked Doreen.

“Ad-rock,” Biz explained. “Harvard. You came to the house for—what was that? Memorial Day?”

“Something like that.” Peter had Heidi in the crook of his arm. “Biz here whooped my ass in chess.”

“It's what I do.”

Heidi could not believe it. Biz was actually socializing, engaging in witty repartee with the boys. She could not have been prouder of her own daughter.

“Everybody knows everybody out here,” Doreen said to Heidi under her breath. She looked embarrassed.

“Welcome to the aristocracy,” said Heidi with a subtle wink. “The houses are giant, but the world is small.”

Gordon rested a hand on the lowest part of Doreen's back, tucking a finger under the lace of her dress. “Let's dance, Doreen.”

“Not now, Gordon.”

“Come on, please! Please dance with me.”

“Okay. Okay, okay! Please excuse us. Gordon seems to have boogie fever.”

On the dance floor Gordon was all hands and eyes and hunger, pawing at Doreen, whispering in her ear. When he did look around it was to see if anybody saw him—proud, like he'd won an important prize—and Heidi wondered when or if anybody had ever felt like that about her.

Peter refreshed Heidi's punch with a shot of booze from a flask in his pocket. He gestured with his head at Gordon and Doreen. “When Coburn heard I was coming out to this thing, I think he was hoping he'd also get a call. The kid was a bit sprung on your friend there.”

“Yes, well, he's going to have to get in line. Look around! Everybody is looking at her.”

“She certainly is something,” said Peter.

“Uh, hello?”

“But she's got none of your style.”

“There it is. Anyway, do you want to dance?”

Peter smiled, his eyes crinkling up in the corners. “It isn't called the School Stand, is it?” He held out his hand for hers. Nice guy, Heidi thought, smart, wealthy. And a grown-up. She let him take her hand. He was warm to the touch.

But before they could make a move, a great commotion came from near the entrance. “Lay off me! I was invited to this thing, okay? Step off, son, or I'll pummel you!” A deep, male voice penetrated the crowd. “Out of my way! I was invited, I told you.”

Heidi had never heard the voice before, but as soon as it reached her ears, she knew to whom it belonged. She peered over the crowd on her towering heels without any doubt as to the source.

Doreen knew it, too. Before she could open her eyes and raise her head from Gordon's shoulder, she knew who the crazed boy pushing and grunting his way toward the bandstand was and what he was after.

Even Biz looked up from her awkward conversation with a girl in her French class, with every expectation that it was Simon Vale who had burst through the doors of the ballroom. Poor, forgotten Simon Vale had come to pry his beloved from the lily-white hands of the ruling class. But he was too late. The hapless quarterback would leave empty-handed. Heidi knew it, Doreen knew it, Biz knew it. The only one who didn't know it was Simon himself.

“Doreen!” he roared. “Dorie!”

“Oh shit,” said Heidi.

“Who is that person?” asked Peter, but before Heidi could answer, Simon plowed past them and charged toward the dance floor. With the strength and grace that had first sent Doreen into raptures, he seized Doreen bodily from her dance partner, taking her into his arms and practically carrying her away. Murmuring her name, he kissed her over and over again—on her neck, then her cheek. When Simon went for her mouth, Doreen held up her hand and pushed his face away.

“Simon! Let go of me, please. You're making a scene.”

“Ha! As if we care what these preppies think.” Simon looked terrible. Scruffy, desperately in need of a haircut, at least he'd had the wherewithal to rent a tuxedo. Heidi elbowed her way through the gathering crowd to get a closer look. What did he think? That he could just show up and become Doreen's date simply by virtue of being there? Doreen stood frozen in her purple lace gown, her lips frowning in disgust. Through it all she remained perfectly calm, with cold, pitiless eyes. Simon tried to nuzzle his face in her hair.

“No, Doreen. We don't care what anyone thinks—all we care about is each other!”

“What
we
is it that you are referring to, Simon? If it's you and I, then let me assure you that such a
we
no longer exists. You have no claim on me, on what I do or don't care about. You are simply you, and I am me, and since this is my school I hope you will make a respectful exit before I have you ejected.” The hush in the room was eerie. Doreen gestured to the band to start up again.

“Oh, Doreen, you don't fool me.” Simon forced her hand against his cheek. “I know you, Doreen Gray. I know who you are.”

Heidi found Gordon Lichter standing at the edge of the dance floor. He watched the confrontation in a silent fume. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” His eyes remained fixed on Doreen. “So I'm wondering if I should kick this guy's ass. Do you think I should?”

Simon was twice Gordon's height and built like a lumberjack. Humiliating as it must have been to witness an unknown kid in a rental tux manhandle his date, it would be more humiliating still to get thrashed in front of the entire senior class.