Gorgeous (11 page)

“That’s not what I mean,” Ty said. “I mean, sure, I was born lucky; the parts all work. But I mean, you don’t know Gideon. He, like…the kid loves me more than anyone ever will. It’s amazing. Just, like, with no strings, no conditions. Just…completely.”

“That must feel great.”

“It does,” Ty said, his smile tilting a corner of his mouth up. “Also, he lets me be generous. You know? How often in life do you get a chance to do something that makes somebody happy?”

I shrugged. “I don’t, really…”

“I do, every day,” Ty said. “All I have to do is unscrew a few screws, and I make the kid’s day. He smiles at me and…Anyway.”

“I get it,” I whispered.

“Thanks.”

We kind of stared at each other for a few seconds then, and I was thinking maybe he would try to kiss me right there on the bench and that if he did I would be into it even though I normally think PDAs are gross, and then I thought maybe he would ask me out, especially since his best friend and mine were walking toward us holding hands (I have good peripheral vision), but instead the bell rang and he stood up suddenly.

On the way back into school, Roxie asked, “Hey, Allison, when do you go back to
zip
for the next round?”

“I’m not going.”

She stopped short and Emmett smashed into her.

“Are you frigging kidding me?” she demanded.

“Where aren’t you going?” Ty asked me.

“She was chosen as a finalist—sorry, semifinalist—for a cover-girl contest for
zip
magazine—and she’s blowing it off?”

“So you
are
a model!” Emmett said. “She said—”

“I’m
not
a model,” I interrupted. “It was this weird thing, a mistake, and anyway I’m grounded, and it’s not like I have any chance at winning…”

“Why not?” Tyler asked.

“Because…,” I said, but couldn’t finish.

“Because what?” Roxie demanded, hands on hips. “You think this is no big deal? Don’t you know there are girls who’d give, like, a nonvital organ to have this chance, and you’re just so above it all you can’t be bothered to go for a frigging photo shoot? Get over yourself, honey.”

“Get over myself?”

“Yeah. You remember the quote from Golda Meir?”

“No,” I said, putting my hands on my hips, too.

“That’s because you were in the hall recovering during Orly Rothstein’s project!”

“I’m sorry I missed it!”

“You should be!” Roxie barked back. “Because Golda Meir, she was, like, some famous woman in Israel or something, and very smart.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, well, she said, ‘Don’t be humble; you’re not that great.’”

I smiled. Then Roxie smiled.

“I can’t tell if you guys are fighting or kidding,” Emmett said.

“Me either,” I admitted.

“You really blew them off?” Roxie asked me.

I nodded.

“We have to call them right now,” she said. “Where is your cell phone?” She held out her hand.

I gave it to her.

The warning bell rang, but we all stayed still, in the hall, while people dashed around us, and Roxie scrolled through my calls until she apparently came up with
zip
. She pressed Send and waited.

“Yes, hello,” she said, sounding adult and efficient. “This is Allison Avery calling to confirm my appointment? Yes. I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy week. I understand. Yes. No, it won’t happen again—When? Monday at two? Is there a later—Yes, I understand. No problem. I’ll be there. Thank you.”

She hung up and handed me my phone.

“Roxie,” I started.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, dashing off. “I have to get to Earth science—wa-hoo!”

Ty stared at me. “You still grounded?”

“Yeah.”

He smirked, and then, as the bell rang, he loped down the hall toward the tenth-grade wing, yelling, “See ya.”

So that was that, then, and I had nothing to look forward to except explaining to my bio teacher why I was late and then a weekend full of nothing except Phoebe’s middle school graduation and panicking about Monday. Or so I thought.

20

W
ATCHING
P
HOEBE GIVE
her speech at her middle school graduation, I felt like my heart was going to break for her. Which was weird, because normally I mostly wanted to shove her out a window. But there she was, looking all shiny and sweet as always, giving the speech because she was the president of the class (of course), and I was all set to scrunch down in my seat and mutter curses under my breath while she spun out some lame metaphor of how the graduating eighth grade was like a pot of stew or some such bull, but then there was an odd moment when she, like, freaked out and dropped the papers her speech was typed on and started crying and then, wham, out of nowhere, there was Phoebe telling her deepest feelings to the whole freaking auditorium. I missed a couple of her points when somebody’s grandpa who couldn’t hear through the hair in his ears kept shouting, “WHAT DID SHE SAY?”, but I got most of it. She was going off about this dress she fell in love with, which was this supposedly amazing green Vera Wang that I had heard my parents arguing about (baby monitor), and how when she couldn’t have it she felt like her life was practically over.

I was like,
How is my sister so spoiled?

Her life was ruined by not getting a dress? A
green
dress? Please.

I rolled my eyes at Quinn, who leaned close and whispered, “You don’t think she’ll tell about Mom, do you?”

“No,” I said, just because no is my default answer; then I started worrying.
No,
I agreed with myself then.
No way Phoebe confesses Mom’s sins, or failures, whatever, to the whole damn town. No way.

I sat up and listened carefully after that.

She didn’t. Poor Phoebe, she stood up there crying, with her mascara running down her face, and told about how she had learned how to be a good friend, and how lucky she was to have all of us. I almost started to cry, too, and when she stopped for a few seconds, staring out at us like she was so lost and alone in the world, I almost ran up and grabbed her off the stage.

Afterwards, after the standing ovation and the hugs all around, I was feeling really terrific about myself. What an awesome sister I was, lecturing her to get her head out of her butt and realize other people had problems, when she had obviously been completely dumped by her friends and was feeling so alone, but all I could think about was my own crap. What an excellent person I am to throw the first stone.

So when Quinn was telling Phoebe on the car ride home that maybe she could have compared the green dress in her speech to the green light Jay Gatsby looks at across the water in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s masterpiece, I finally had to tell Quinn to shut up and leave her alone, the speech was perfect as it was.

Phoebe looked appreciative, though still, honestly, pretty wrecked.

Her graduation party with her friends was that night, but she wasn’t going. She was staying home like Cinderella without her dress. Which made me and Quinn the ugly stepsisters, I guess. I was telling that to Quinn and trying to move her past the fact that I had belittled her
Gatsby
reference when the doorbell rang.

Neither one of us was sure it was really the doorbell, because it wasn’t the normal one. We both realized at the same second that it was the front doorbell, and raced down the stairs together, yelling, “Coming! Hold on!” Then, since neither of us could figure out how to open the front door (which nobody as far as I could remember had ever actually used), we yelled to whoever it was ringing again and again to go around to the side door.

Quinn and I ran through the kitchen and out the side door. A small woman was standing outside our double front doors, holding a garment bag from Neiman Marcus and pushing the doorbell. We shrugged at each other and went to find out what was up.

Well, apparently it was the green dress. Phoebe’s best friend had bought it I guess, and sent her housekeeper over with it for Phoebe to wear to the graduation party that night. I had to get Phoebe out of the pool and into the shower to get ready and go out to the party in it.

So much for her life falling apart.

“Is she the luckiest person ever?” I asked Quinn as we collected shoes and makeup for her.

“Absolutely,” Quinn said. “Always has been.”

“You’re mad about
Gatsby
.”

“Be ignorant; I don’t care,” she said. And then, as we were doing Phoebe’s hair, she accidentally/on purpose brought up the whole thing with
zip
. I didn’t really mind. Phoebe looked shocked, but at least she said, “Good luck.” Instead of, “Why would they choose you,” or something. I did her eyes smoky. Everybody complimented her on them, and then Mom drove her off to the party.

I texted
Have fun
to Phoebe and then slumped down with Quinn in front of the TV in the family room, until my phone groaned.

“You have the most messed-up ring tones,” Quinn said.

I thought it would be Phoebe calling back to say thanks, the polite freak, but it was Jade. “How was Phoebe’s graduation?” she asked.

“Okay,” I said. “She gave the speech.” I shrugged at Quinn.

“I know,” Jade said. “Someone said she messed up?”

“Who said?” I asked. A commercial came on for Home Depot, and a guy was holding a screwdriver.

“Do you want to watch this or not?” Quinn asked.

“It’s Jade,” I whispered. “People are dumping on Phoebe’s speech.”

“She was great,” Quinn said. “Who said what?”

“Maybe I misheard,” Jade said at the same time, smooth and sweet. “I hope so. It was good?”

“She was great,” I said again, watching Mr. Screwdriver build shelves for his curly-haired son’s room on TV. “She rocked. Who said she messed up?”

“Why are you getting so Mafia about it?” Jade asked.

“She’s my sister.”

“Since when?”

“Since she was born.”

“Can you hang up?” Quinn asked. “It’s on.”

“I meant,” Jade snarled, “since when do you care about that?”

She had a point, but I just said, “Leave it. Okay?”

“Fine,” Jade said.

“Sorry. I just—”

“Tell her I said congratulations.”

“I will. Thanks, Jade.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Quinn said.

“No, stay with me,” I called after her, but she left.

“Roxie said you’re going to the callbacks Monday?” Jade said. “For your modeling thing?”

“I—I don’t know. I guess.” I had to pace, so I went to the kitchen. Anyway, it was no fun to watch stupid reruns alone. “Weird, huh?” I said to Jade. “Me, modeling?”

“Now that you mention it, yes,” Jade said. “I mean, not that you’re not pretty. Just…I mean, you’re so smart and real, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Neither did I.”

“But I think it’s great. You know I’ve got your back, completely, whatever you do. Right?”

“Right,” I said.

“It’s weird, though. Roxie seems to have some mixed feelings about your success, huh?”

“Well,” I said. “Not really.”

“I just meant the whole yelling-in-the-hall thing, plus—”

“She was mad I didn’t tell her, is all.”

“You think so?”

“Totally,” I said. “You should get to know her, Jade. She’s not what you think. Well, you talked to her a bit this week. Right? She’s not, like, wild and nasty; she’s sweet!”

Jade just sort of hummed, “Mmmm.”

“Seriously,” I continued, all of a sudden feeling a manic need to convince Jade of Roxie’s coolness, thinking I could somehow bring everybody together and life would be great. “Like, I wasn’t even planning to go on the callback for the
zip
thing? But Roxie called them up and made the appointment for me for Monday!”

Silence, then, “Did she?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Allison? I have to ask you something.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Why do you think she would do that?”

My hands were starting to shake, like they had after the doppio macchiato. “Because she’s a good friend.”

“Suddenly?” Jade asked. “She’s suddenly your best friend?”

“No. She’s just…She’s nice,” I said feebly.

“Think, Allison. Why would Roxie set you up, force you to go to this modeling shoot when you don’t even want to, and it’s what she wants more than anything?”

I opened the fridge and looked in. “Because she…”

“Come on, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but really, Allison. Let’s be realistic—are you really the model type? I mean, to me you’re a very nice-looking girl, and I love you to death, but really, do you honestly think you’ve got the stunning, magnificent looks of a model?”

“No,” I admitted, and closed the door.

“Allison,” Jade whispered, “I like her. She’s fun, and funny. I have no problem hanging out with her sometimes. But this stinks. She’s setting you up. It’s cruel. I don’t mean to be harsh—I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“But…” I sat down on the floor. Jade was right. Who did I think I was? Awkward, invisible, unattractive me, and then suddenly I have a weird dream and I turn magically gorgeous? It didn’t make any sense. I had just been fooling myself. How completely embarrassing to be such a gullible fool.

“Allison?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Hi!” Jade said.

“I’m here. I’m just—”

“That is the
cutest
skirt!” she said.

I looked down at my fold-over-top leggings and sweatshirt and asked, “What?”

Jade gave a quick laugh and said, “I know, I know! Can you believe it? No, be in in a sec. My mom, you know.”

“Jade?” I asked. “Where are you?”

“At the party,” she whispered. “The one on Maple. You know, everybody…”

“Oh.” I hauled my fat ass off the floor. “Yeah, me too.”

“Really?” she asked. “You’re here? I thought you were still grounded.”

“I thought you hated me.” I opened the fridge and looked for something.

“I love you; you know that,” Jade purred. “You’re my best friend. That’s why I’m calling. Wait, let me make sure nobody…Hey! Thanks.”

“What?” I pulled out a smoothie bottle and read the back. Holy calorie count.

“I’m hanging up,” she whispered. “I’ll text you. It’s safer.”

I hung up and prayed my phone would stay normal for once. Screw calories; I wasn’t going to be thin for Monday anyway, if I did go. I twisted off the cap and was halfway through chugging the smoothie when Jade’s text came through:

Well, I wanted to warn you, and this is part of why I was saying watch out—I think Roxie Green is after Ty.

No way,
I texted back.
Jk???

No.:( They r getting way cozy on the couch. Serena thot I shdnt tell u but I knew u wd want 2 know
.
I hope I was right to.

This was bigger than a smoothie could soothe. For this I needed to call in both Ben and Jerry. I closed the freezer so I could sit against it, took a big spoonful, and texted,
cozy?

Very.

But she’s going out with Emmett,
I texted, and then dug in my spoon for another cold hunk of comfort.

Apparently not anymore.

What r they doing?

It’s gross. I thought she was ur friend.

I ate a few more globs of ice cream and then texted back,
I don’t care.

I wished that were true.
Damn.
The one good friend I’d ever thought I had, the one boy who ever actually seemed to like me. I hated everyone right then, but most of all my wishful, gullible self.

Y wd they do that to u?
Jade texted.
Do u think Roxie is jealous bc zip chose u instead of her?

IDK,
I texted.
Do u?

Her text came through in a second:
Yes. I do.

Roxie Green is a jealous slut,
I texted back.

And then my phone completely died.