Epic Fail

  “I hope so. I’ll apologize a million times over.”

  “Just give Derek time to explain first. It will be easier.”

  She nodded. There was a brief pause. She said slowly, “So you and Derek worked this whole thing out together?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to sound casual about it. “It was funny because at first we were both so angry and defensive, but then once we realized what had happened, all he could say was how much Chase adores you.”

  “That was all he could say?” she said, a little coyly. “Are you sure?”

  “What else did you want?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but you keep smiling like you’re not telling me everything.”

  “I’m telling you everything,” I said. Smiling.

  Our resolve to be more supportive to Mom was put to the test as soon as we got home. In between sips of wine, she recounted every sentence of her two-hour-long reaming-out by phone that afternoon. I felt sorry for her. I also desperately wanted to escape and think my own thoughts in peace. There was a lot I needed to think about.

  Juliana was pouring Mom a refill when we all heard Layla call out, “Doorbell! I got it!” Then, a moment later, “Jules! Come quick!”

  Juliana and I both ran into the foyer just as Layla opened the door to Chelsea Baldwin.

  Really? Chelsea?

  It made more sense when I realized that Chase was right behind her, his hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her in place.

  He wasn’t looking at me, though. Or at Layla, who stood in the open doorway. Or at Mom, who had come up behind the rest of us.

  No, Chase had eyes for only one person—and she was staring back at him in openmouthed surprise.

  “My sister needs to tell you something,” he said.

  “Not in front of the whole family,” Chelsea snapped.

  “I’ll come out.” Juliana’s fingers reached out blindly and caught mine. “Come with me.”

  “Can I come, too?” Layla asked.

  “No,” we said in unison, as the two Baldwin siblings stepped back to let us out and I closed the door behind us.

  Derek’s car was parked in front of our house, its driver still in the front seat. Our eyes met through the window. He reached for the door handle and got out.

  Meanwhile, Chelsea was saying to Jules in a flat robotic monotone, “I’m sorry for any confusion I might have caused. I was fooling around with Chase’s phone this week, and I might have accidentally sent you some joke texts.” She scowled at her brother and said in her normal voice, “There, are you happy?”

  “Not with you.”

  “It was just a joke. You guys need to grow a sense of humor.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Chase said. “It was mean.”

  “Yeah? Well, her mother suspended me and she didn’t even lift a finger to—”

  Her brother whipped around. “Shut up and go wait in the car!” I didn’t know the guy had it in him to sound that fierce—nice to know he could be tough when he needed to.

  Chelsea quickly backed away.

  Derek was leaning against his car, arms folded, watching us. As she reached him, Chelsea stopped and said something, but he just shook his head without even looking at her. She threw herself in the backseat of his car and slammed the door.

  Juliana released my hand, which was a relief since she had been gripping it tightly, and stepped toward Chase. “I am so sorry,” she said hoarsely. “You must have thought I was just being horrible to you.”

  “I was definitely confused.” He touched her arm lightly with his index finger. “But now that we both know what happened—”

  As they moved closer together, I slipped quietly away and walked down to where Derek was waiting. He stood upright as I approached.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I didn’t do anything except tell Chase what happened.”

  “You got him here.”

  I noticed Chelsea glaring at us through the car window. Derek followed my gaze, and Chelsea raised her arm to tap her watch meaningfully with her index finger. I said to Derek, “I didn’t know Chase could get angry, but just now he sounded like he was ready to kill her.”

  “I had to drag him away from her when he first found out—his hands were going for her throat.”

  “Yeah? Why’d you stop him?”

  “Not for her sake, trust me. I just didn’t want him to end up in jail.”

  “You could have let him choke her a little bit,” I said. “Just enough so she couldn’t, you know . . . swallow a Jamba Juice for a week, say.”

  “No smoothies for a whole week?” He shook his head. “Death would be kinder.”

  “Life without—” I stopped because the front door opened and my mother emerged.

  “Why don’t you boys come inside?” she called out. “I’ll put out some cookies.” Her words were slightly slurred. Just slightly. Enough for me to know she’d made short work of that second (third?) glass of wine Juliana had poured for her. Enough for me to desperately not want the boys to come into our home.

  Fortunately, Chase said, “Thanks, Dr. Gardiner, but I need to get my sister back.” He turned to Juliana. “I just wanted to ask you . . . There’s a premiere tomorrow night for Derek’s mother’s new movie. Can you come with us?”

  Before Jules could answer, Layla suddenly pushed past my mother and came racing down the front walk. “Can I come, too?” she asked excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to go to a movie premiere!”

  “Layla!” I said. “You can’t ask that!”

  She rolled her eyes. “They can say no. God, Elise, you act like you’re in charge of everything.”

  “I’m saying no.”

  “No for your sister or no for you?” Derek asked uncertainly.

  “Me?” I took a surprised step back. “Am I invited?”

  He toed a clod of grass with the tip of his sneaker. “Yeah. You and Juliana like doing stuff together, right? And it’s no problem getting another ticket.”

  I wanted to go, but not if he didn’t really want me to. “If you’re worried that Juliana won’t go without me, we’re not really that codependent. You don’t—”

  He cut me off. “It’s not just that.” Quick glance up at me and then the clod of grass regained his interest. He kicked at it lightly. “I think it would be fun. Give me someone to talk to while Chase and Juliana are . . . you know.”

  “Yeah—they can get distracted when they’re together.”

  “Exactly. So will you come keep me company?”

  “Yes, I’d like that,” I said. Since he put it that way . . . “Thanks.”

  Derek and I moved up toward Juliana and Chase, and he told them that I was coming, too. Jules squealed and bounced happily on the balls of her feet.

  “Great! We’ll pick you both up tomorrow around seven,” Chase said. “Come on, D, let’s hit the road.”

  They had driven off, and Jules and I were heading back toward the house when Layla blocked our way. “I hate you both,” she said, stamping her dirty bare foot. “Especially you, Elise! He probably would have let me come if you hadn’t told him not to. You leave me out of everything. I hate this whole stupid family!” She ran past us and into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  “Wow,” I said. “Even for her, that was over the top.”

  “Oh, who cares!” Juliana exclaimed with sudden, surprising gaiety. She twirled around. “He still likes me, Elise!”

  “We were both idiots to think he could have stopped. But will you finally now admit that Chelsea is the devil’s spawn?”

  “Rosemary’s baby,” she agreed.

  We headed up the path. “We have to find a way to make her pay for this,” I said.

  Juliana opened the front door and held it for me. “You already have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “By going to this thing tomorrow night with Derek.”

  “He only invited me because of you and Chase.”

  “Right,” she sa
id, following me inside. “He’s never shown the slightest interest in you before. I mean, he’s never stared at you like you’re the only person in the room when we’re all together. Or sulked around for days because you turned him down for a dance. Or touched the sleeve of your sweater when he thinks no one’s looking—”

  “He’s never done any of that,” I said. Then, less confidently, “Has he?”

  She laughed. “You know, you’re right. He’s obviously only inviting you for my sake. It’s all for my sake. That’s the only reason. It’s—”

  “Oh, just shut up,” I said. I was too confused about my own feelings to be teased about someone else’s.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That night, I was clicking back and forth between my English paper and an online chat with a couple of friends from Amherst who should have been asleep, given the time difference, but one of them was excited about a guy and one was in despair about a guy, so they were both up. I was just on the verge of telling them I really had to get some work done when I noticed I had an email from an address I’d never seen before and clicked on that instead.

  It was very long. I scrolled down and read the name:

  Derek.

  That was unexpected. And oddly unsettling. I quickly scrolled back up, eager to read it.

  My eagerness wasn’t at all diminished as I read: every word fed it until I was reading as fast as I could, my eyes sweeping the screen as I tapped the scroll bar faster and faster.

  Hi, Elise.

  I’ve been trying to decide if I should write or not and finally decided I should. I figured why not clear the air before tomorrow night. A fresh start and all that.

  First of all, I want to apologize. I’ve thought back to what I said about your family when I asked you to the semiformal and realized how rude it was. I’m sorry. No wonder you didn’t want to go with me.

  More importantly—and more awkwardly—I feel like I should tell you a little more about what happened with my family and Webster Grant.

  I know I can trust you not to repeat any of this.

  He told you we were friends and I guess we were. Friendly anyway. He was always just sort of THERE, and he was fairly entertaining, so I didn’t mind.

  But when he started coming over to my house, things got weird pretty fast. He kept trying to wrangle his way into my parents’ company. And then I found him looking through the drawers in their bedroom when he was supposedly going to the bathroom. I didn’t say anything about it—I just didn’t invite him over again. He was creeping me out.

  Georgia really liked him—he always spent time talking to her—and I guess once it was clear I wasn’t going to be his ticket to my parents, he went after her instead. One day she told me they were going out.

  My parents and I went ballistic—on top of everything else, she’s like four years younger than he is. They wouldn’t let her date him. She insisted they were in love. We all figured he’d lose interest pretty quickly since he could only see her at school. And he did. Only he figured he’d get something out of it first. So he got her to sneak out and meet him one night, got her drunk—she’d never had more than a sip of wine before—and took some embarrassing photos of her. He didn’t even have the decency to take her home, just left her at a mall all alone after dark. She wandered around for a while, trashed. Fortunately, a security guard got concerned and used her cell phone to call us.

  A couple of the photos appeared on some online gossip site, but my parents’ PR people got them killed pretty quickly.

  Georgia was already shy and nervous. This put her over the edge. She couldn’t face going back to school, just broke down when she tried. The school she’s in now is for girls with emotional issues. It’s been good for her. She feels safe there.

  I know you consider the guy a friend. But every time I look at him, I think about how he messed up Georgia’s life. If it weren’t for him, she’d still be living at home, going to Coral Tree.

  So that’s the story. We don’t have to talk about this at the premiere—in fact, I’d prefer not to talk about it ever—but I really wanted you to know. No one can confirm it for you because I’ve never told anyone else, so I guess it’s up to you whether you believe it or not.

  Derek

  “My God.”

  I realized I had spoken out loud and was relieved that Jules was already asleep. Otherwise, she’d have asked what I was talking about and I couldn’t tell her. Derek had asked me to keep it confidential and I would.

  I believed him. No question about that.

  Webster had lied to me to go out with Campbell because of who her father was. Everything Derek said fit with that. Webster’s charm and my stupid determination to show what an egalitarian I was by siding against the guy I had already decided was a total celebrity brat had both succeeded in convincing me that Webster was some kind of victim, Derek some kind of aggressor.

  I had picked the wrong side from the start.

  I hit reply and sat there trying out various responses for a while before I finally settled on one.

  I believe you. Thanks for telling me. I’m so sorry for your sister.

  I’ll see you tomorrow night.

  Elise

  P.S. Webster isn’t my friend anymore, anyway.

  I sent it but didn’t return to chatting my friends. I kept obsessively checking my email to see if Derek had replied to my reply until I finally closed my laptop an hour or so later and went to bed.

  But I couldn’t sleep. I felt awful that I hadn’t believed Derek about Webster in the first place, had acted all high and mighty because I, the great Elise Benton, wasn’t about to fall all over someone just because his parents were famous. Oh, no. I was way too smart, way too intuitive, way too perceptive to do that.

  I was an idiot.

  And Webster was a horrible human being.

  And Derek was . . . what?

  A pair of dark eyes that hid more than they revealed and some broad shoulders and a mouth that could be cold and thin and then suddenly widen into a generous grin when you thought it was impossible.

  Maybe he was my friend now, too?

  I hoped so but wasn’t sure I deserved his friendship. I had misunderstood and misjudged him from the beginning.

  I flipped onto my other side.

  On top of everything else, I shouldn’t have been so mean to him when he invited me to the dance. He was right: Layla always managed to embarrass me, and Mom, too. He was only being honest about that.

  I turned onto my back. I could hear Juliana’s soft and steady sleeping breaths. She, at least, was fine with the state of things tonight. She wasn’t tortured by what she should and shouldn’t have said in the past, by how stupid and prejudiced she’d been when she should have been smart and open-minded.

  Nope. That was me.

  At some point early in the morning I fell asleep, but as soon as I woke up, I checked my email. Still nothing from Derek. Was he angry? Should I have said more in my response?

  I wiggled my fingers over the keyboard uncertainly. Should I write something else?

  No, that would look needy.

  Anyway, what more did I want from him? He had told me something he hadn’t told anyone else. He wouldn’t have trusted someone he hated with a secret, right?

  I hugged that thought to me all day as I did some homework and then joined Juliana in primping for the movie premiere.

  We were slipping on our shoes when Chase and Derek pulled up in front of the house at exactly seven the following night—in Chase’s car, not the limo, which was a relief.

  By the time we made it downstairs, Dad had already opened the front door and Chase and Derek were waiting for us inside the foyer. Mom was out at a school function of some sort, so at least it was only Dad greeting them—but he could be scary in a whole other way.

  Juliana ran down faster than I did. Chase met her at the bottom of the staircase where he took her hand and gave her a very quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. Dad nodded his approval.

&n
bsp; At first I was concentrating on picking my way carefully down the stairs in my high heels, but as I got near the bottom, I looked up and saw that Derek was wearing a sports coat over a white shirt, no tie, the buttons open at his throat. His neck was strong, his chin tilted up as he watched me, his mouth parted just enough to show a glint of straight white teeth—

  I realized I was totally staring at him—and Dad and Juliana and Chase and Kaitlyn were all right there. I broke my gaze, swallowed hard, and said, “Am I okay?” in a voice that came out awkwardly squeaky. I was wearing the rust-colored slip dress that Juliana had worn to the dance (with the same jacket over it until I got out of the house).

  “Yeah,” Derek said. “You’re okay.”

  You know, he was a man of few words, but each one felt like it carried a lot of weight.

  Chase said, “You look amazing, Elise. You both look amazing.”

  “What about me?” asked a voice from above, and Layla came skittering down the stairs. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a gauzy shirt with a gathered top that I suspected could be pulled down off the shoulder, but which was demurely pulled up to create a wide neckline at the moment. Her hair was curled, and she was wearing a ton of eye shadow and lip gloss. “How do I look?”

  “Go wash your face,” Dad barked. “You’re too young to be wearing all that gunk on it.”

  “Oh, Daddy, it’s just tinted moisturizer,” she said blithely. “It’ll all be absorbed in a minute.”

  His brow furrowed uncertainly. He was suspicious but also aware of his own ignorance in these matters. He satisfied himself with a brusque “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “No time,” she said. “I’m meeting Campbell at Starbucks. Can you give me a lift?” she asked Chase. “It’s only like three blocks away.”

  We divided up into boys in the front seat, girls in the back.

  “So what are your plans for tonight?” I asked Layla.

  “Just hanging out.”

  “You’re awfully dressed up for Starbucks.”

  “So? I wanted to look nice.”

  When we dropped her off, I watched her walk into the dark-windowed coffee shop, clutching a panda bear purse and wobbling in heels that were too high for her.