The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks (4 page)

ALPHA

Alpha’s real name was Alessandro

Tesorieri, but no one ever called him that anymore. Within two days of his freshman year (he was now a senior) his alpha dog status was so obvious that someone made a joke of it—and he had been Alpha ever since.

Alpha’s mother had never been married to his father. When Alessandro was only one, his single mother, Elena, met a handsome jewelry-store magnate and allowed herself to be supported by him for years— although they never lived together. The boy had been raised in luxury. The best schools, the Fifth Avenue penthouse, a house in the country. The couple stayed together for more than a decade until the summer after Alpha’s sophomore year at Alabaster—when the magnate left Elena for a younger woman. He let Alpha’s mother keep the penthouse he’d bought her, with its dead-expensive monthly maintenance, and disappeared from their lives.

Without paying school fees for the coming year.

So Alpha spent his junior year in a New York City public school, thereby acquiring legendary status at Alabaster. But despite rumored triumphs at drag racing, cockfighting, and Foosball, the boy was miserable. Without consulting Elena, come spring he sent a letter to Headmaster Richmond at Alabaster, explaining the situation (the penthouse hadn’t sold and Elena’s dilettante interior-design work didn’t bring in much), and requesting to return for his senior year—on scholarship.

He was hailed as a conquering hero. Frankie heard the full Alpha story from Matthew that day as he walked her to the pool. And though she didn’t say anything—she could tell Matthew wanted to ramble on about his friend without being questioned— Frankie thought it sounded more like a return with tail firmly between legs than a triumph.

Is an alpha dog still an alpha dog if you move him away from his pack? she wondered. In a new pack, would he jockey himself up to the alpha dog position, or would he become the runt, the zed, the unloved stranger? And if he had become alpha dog in this new pack, as everyone assumed Tesorieri had, would he really want to return to the old one?

“Why’d he come back?” Frankie asked Matthew. They were standing outside the new gymnasium, looking through Plexiglas windows at the floor-to-ceiling rock-climbing wall. Frankie was late for swimming by now. She knew Trish was probably kick-boarding back and forth without her. But she also knew Trish would forgive her, since her trespass involved Matthew Livingston.

“Couldn’t live without me,” Matthew joked.

“But if he had so much freedom, like you said? Running cockfights on the Lower East Side? He doesn’t sound like a guy who’d want to come back to boarding school. Where like every second of our day is scheduled, and someone’s always watching everything we do.”

“For a guy like Alpha, rules exist for breaking. He likes a challenge,” said Matthew, looking at Frankie, not at the rock-climbers. “I’m thinking Alpha and his Volvo and his pet rooster cakewalked all over that city. He had to come back so he’d have something to really
do
.”

Frankie shook her head. “He came back because going to Alabaster will get him into a good college, right?”

“Probably,” Matthew admitted. “Whoa, speak of the devil.”

“What?”

“That’s him.” Matthew banged his fist on the Plexiglas window. “Alpha!”

“He’s on the rock wall?”

“He’s on the freaking wall. Like he appeared out of thin air. I swear he wasn’t there when we were looking before, was he?”

Frankie shrugged and followed Matthew as he ran into the new gymnasium and down a long series of steps to the bottom of the wall. Dean was belaying Alpha as he rappelled from the top. Matthew and Frankie stood and watched.

Frankie had imagined Alpha Tesorieri as a five-o’clock-shadowed Italian bad boy wearing black leather and driving a motorcycle.

But he wasn’t.

He was—the boy from the Jersey Shore.

The one who had scrounged her frozen custard off her.

The one who had said, “It appears I can’t be trained.”

The one who had said, “I’m always hungry.”

Medium height and sandy haired, with a barrel chest and a baby face, Alpha wasn’t looking at Frankie. “Arggggh!” he yelled when he hit the ground. “That wall just kicked me from here to Tuscaloosa. I am hereby declaring war on that wall, Dean. Do you hear me? That wall is toast by the end of the semester.”

“You’re out of shape, dog.” Dean chuckled.

“It’s like I was lugging every dang coconut pie I ate this summer up that freaking wall.” Alpha threw himself extravagantly on the floor mats, face down. “I am just going to lie here and commune with the foot smell,” he announced. “That’s all I’m really good for at this point.”

“Dog, Livingston’s here with some girl.”

Alpha popped up. “Livingston!” he cried, rushing at Matthew. “Let me wipe my sweat on you as a gesture of fraternal love!” He rubbed his wet pink face on Matthew’s T-shirt. “How was the Vineyard?”

“Sheep everywhere, dog,” said Matthew. “Sheep as far as the eye can see. And then when there’s no more sheep, oxen.”

“I love oxen!” Alpha’s eye flitted to Frankie and back again. Did he recognize her?

“You
would
love oxen.” Matthew smirked.

“No really, they are so butch. Wouldn’t you love to be an oxen? An ox, whatever?” asked Alpha.

“An ox,” said Matthew. “That’s the singular. And no, thank you, I would not.”

“Who are you?” Alpha turned to Frankie. “Call me Alpha.”

“This is Frankie,” Matthew said.

So he didn’t recognize her. Frankie held out her hand and Alpha shook it. It was wet with perspiration, but she remembered the way it felt.

“Sorry about the sweat. Now I’ve wiped my sweat all over you; we’re bonded for life. Did you know that?”

She laughed.

“Seriously. I only do it to people I like. You saw me do it to Livingston, right? It’s like blood brothers.”

Matthew fake-kicked Alpha. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’ll never hang out with us again.”

“Oh, so are you with Livingston now?” Alpha asked.

“We just met, dog,” laughed Matthew. “Lay off.”

“He’s the handsomest one of us, though, don’t you think?” Alpha said, wiping his brow. “He’s like Adonis or whatever.”

Frankie couldn’t deny it. Instead she said, “I think I met you at the beach a few weeks ago.”

Alpha squinted at her, the same way he’d done the afternoon they first met. “I’m from New York City. No beach there, unless it’s Coney Island. But hey, any girl of Livingston’s is a friend of mine. Dean, meet Frankie, by the way.”

Dean walked over. “Hi, Frankie.”

“She’s Zada’s little sister,” explained Matthew. “You remember Zada?”

“You a freshman?” Dean asked.

“Sophomore,” Frankie answered.

“Funny,” Dean said. “I swear I’ve never set eyes on you in my life. I would remember you. I know I would.”

When Matthew hadn’t remembered her, Frankie had felt mildly pleased to have changed so radically that he didn’t even know she was the same girl; when Alpha hadn’t, she’d felt small. Just another girl he’d chatted up on the beach and then forgotten. But when Dean didn’t remember her, she got angry. “I ate lunch with you more than once,” she said, giving him an even stare. “Because I used to sit with my sister. We had a conversation one day about Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“The ride or the movie?”

“The ride. The old ride versus the updated ride.”

“I don’t remember.”

“I was telling you how there were hidden Mickey Mouses and shadows of Pluto on the old ride? How Zada and I looked them up on the Web before we went?”

Dean shook his head.

“The giant rock that looks like Goofy?”

He shrugged, and Frankie wondered how he could possibly have forgotten a conversation like that.

“He’s a nimrod for not remembering,” said Matthew, as if he hadn’t done something similar himself. “Say you’re a nimrod, Dean.”

“Oh, I’m a nimrod. Ask anyone you see.”

“Alpha,” Frankie said, turning, “is Dean a nimrod?”

“Of course, Frankie-that-I-sweated-on. But he also has no short-term memory. He’s obliterated half his brain cells with that contraption he keeps in his room.”

Dean nodded. “It’s true. My cognitive functioning is noticeably impaired.”

“Except for the straight-A average.” Matthew socked Dean on the arm.

“Except nothing,” answered Dean. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!”

Frankie couldn’t stay angry, though she was sure Dean was lying about not remembering her. How could she be mad when they were so completely undignified? Magnificently silly. Willing to send themselves up at the slightest opportunity, prostrate themselves, admit to frailties. Dean openly mocked himself and acted almost ashamed of his straight-A marks. Alpha wasn’t embarrassed that he’d barely made it up the easy course on the rock wall; he sweated on people and made fun of his own physique. And Matthew—well, she couldn’t have been mad at Matthew, anyway.

These guys, they were so sure of their places in life—so deeply confident of their merit and their future—they didn’t need any kind of front at all.

THE LADIES

It was the same guy from the beach, I’d swear on my mother’s grave,” Frankie fin

“ ished as she and Trish kick-boarded the length of the pool. Trish was the roommate, you’ll recall. “No way,” she said, breathing hard as she kicked. “It was him,” said Frankie. “The one who took your custard? Whose name you never got?” “Yes.” “And did you fall into each other’s arms?” “He didn’t remember me.” “Get out.” “None of them remembered me, Trish.” “You’re kidding.”

“Not Dean, and not Matthew, not this Alpha guy. It’s like I’m invisible.”

“Like you
were
invisible,” corrected Trish. “And now you’re not.”

“Because my chest filled out? Come on. They have got to look at girls’ faces every once in a while. Otherwise how are they going to recognize anyone?”

Trish laughed. “I’m betting that if all of us started padding or wearing minimizers, the boys of this school would be completely confused and unable to identify at least half of the female population. Haven’t you seen the way they always talk to your chest?”

“No.”

“Well, you didn’t have that much chest last year, no offense. But that’s what they do. They talk to the Ladies. If you know what I mean.”

“It can’t be all about the Ladies.”

“Yes, it can.”

“Be serious.”

Trish hauled herself out of the pool. “Okay, you’re right. Matthew didn’t remember you because he’s a big man on campus. All he cares about are the people in his own circle, and he’s oblivious to everything else, even when it’s right in front of his nose—unless he sees a girl he’s attracted to.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s like that.”

“Whatever. Dean, though: you’re right. I think he’s lying, because that Dean guy is always trying to make himself feel important. He acts like he doesn’t remember you because that makes him feel big—it gives him the upper hand in the conversation.”

“But why does he even need it?”

“Because Matthew obviously likes you, that’s why. And Dean is threatened by anything that takes Matthew away from him.”

“Good thing your mom is a shrink.”

Trish squeezed water out of her hair. “It is good. Now, on to the third one. There is no way that Alpha guy wouldn’t remember you. It was only two weeks ago you guys were flirting on the beach.”

“I even mentioned how we’d met, but he blew it off. Like it wasn’t him.” Frankie was out of the water now, too. She rubbed her legs with a towel.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“But the guy at the beach knew you went to Alabaster, yes? So if this is the same guy, then he knows you’re the same girl.”

“I know.” They walked into the sauna and lay down in the hot, cedar smell.

“Are you upset?” asked Trish. “Do you like him?”

“I would . . .” Frankie considered. “I might . . . But I was with Matthew Livingston.”

Trish stood and rearranged her towel. “That’s why the Alpha guy pretended he didn’t remember,” she finally said, stretching back out.

“Why?” “Because you were with Matthew.” “So?” “So Matthew was talking to the Ladies, and when Matthew talks to the Ladies, all the competition might as well retire.” “Grodie.” “I’m just saying.” “That Alpha backed down to defer to Matthew?” “Matthew’s . . . well, let me put it this way,” said Trish. “If I didn’t have Artie, I wouldn’t say no. There isn’t a girl at Alabaster who’d say no. He’s Matthew Livingston. So the Alpha guy had prior claim, but he backed off when Matthew got hold of you.”

“You’re making me sound like a piece of meat.” “No, of course you’re not. I’m living vicariously.” “How?” “It would be fun to have guys fighting over me. I’m not even sixteen and already I’m, like, married.” “It’s not even clear if he likes me,” said Frankie. “Which one?” “Either one. Matthew.”

“I don’t think Alpha was talking to you to get your custard.”

Frankie stretched herself. “Maybe he’s not so alpha after all, if he backed off like that.”

“Is what I’m saying,” said Trish.