Chapter 11
When Kim Renwick was four years old, her daddy taught her a new game.
“This is a pretend game you play with your teacher,” her daddy said. “The person who wins is the one who doesn’t stop pretending.”
Kim’s teacher, Mr. Arsano, was a bald man who wore fuzzy sweaters and big glasses. Mr. Arsano was the headmaster at Mount Claremont, the most expensive, exclusive preschool in Washington.
“Mr. Arsano doesn’t like me,” Kim said. “He makes me sit in timeout every day.”
“Mr. Arsano likes this game,” said her daddy. “And I want you to play it. I want you to win at this game and make me proud of you.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Most of Kim’s memories from her time at Mount Claremont preschool were faded, incomplete scenes. She remembered teasing a boy named Jacob who had peed his pants. She remembered getting angry during snack one day and throwing her cup of grape juice into the wall. She remembered feeling jealous of Carmen Cook, whose mother, not her nanny but her actual mother, give her a big goodbye squeeze every morning.
The game with Mr. Arsano was the only memory from Mount Claremont that Kim could recall in complete detail. It was naptime. Kim never fell asleep during naptime. She lay on her mat, waiting until Jacob started snoring. Then she sat up and called for Mr. Arsano.
He came over and squatted down next to her mat.
“What is it, Kim?” he asked.
“Mr. Arsano, do you remember when I asked you to help me go potty the other day?” Kim said. That was the line she and her daddy had practiced. Saying that line meant the game had begun. She remembered what her daddy had taught her about Mr. Arsano’s response.
“Mr. Arsano will say he doesn’t remember,” her daddy had told her. “That’s how you know he’s playing too.”
Sure enough, Mr. Arsano said he had no idea what she was talking about, that Janelle was the one who took girls to the potty.
“No, it was just a few days ago,” Kim said, continuing the game. “You said it was your turn to take me potty because I was special, and I said yes, even though I didn’t have to go, and then we went into the potty and you locked the door and told me you wanted to show me something. That’s the day I’m talking about.”
“Kim, I think you’re remembering some time with someone else,” said Mr. Arsano. “I never took you to the potty.”
Her daddy said that Mr. Arsano might start to act angry. It was all part of the game. He was trying to make her stop pretending. If she stopped, she lost.
“I wanted to tell you, Mr. Arsano, that I didn’t like it when you showed me that thing between your legs,” Kim said. “I thought it was ugly. And I’m not going to touch it again, even if you ask me to.”
“Kim Renwick, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I assure you I did no such thing. Did someone else do this to you Kim?”
“My daddy told me that what you did was a bad thing,” Kim said, proud of herself for remembering all her lines. She was going to win at this game. “My daddy said that I should tell someone about this, but here’s what I think. I think I will have so much fun in kindergarten at Lincoln Hills I won’t even remember what you did. I am going to Lincoln Hills, right? Daddy said that I only get to go there if you tell the teachers I’m smart enough. Do you think I’m smart enough?”
The next year, Kim was enrolled in kindergarten at Lincoln Hills, Mr. Arsano having written a glowing letter of recommendation.
It wasn’t until third grade that Kim began to comprehend the meaning of the game she had played with Mr. Arsano. But even during those years when she didn’t understand what she had done, she knew she had beaten him. She remembered the fear in his eyes. She knew, even at four years old, that she was more powerful than he was. That she was a winner.
Now, as Kim danced with Marshall Beaumont, her heart still racing from her confrontation with Nicky, she thought about another time she had won. In ninth grade, she needed something very specific from Ryan Jenson, and he didn’t want to help. Just like she did with Mr. Arsano, Kim outsmarted Ryan. She played on his fears and made him conform to her will.
But here they were at Homecoming, and already Ryan had danced with Nicky. What was going on with those two? Ryan and Nicky had been seen going off to lunch together more than once in the past two weeks. Now they had danced together at Homecoming, and when they did, Nicky had a lot to say. She had looked so at ease in Ryan’s arms, and they had talked and talked, right up until the dance ended and they parted ways.
Kim pushed Marshall along the floor, trying to get in position to dance with Ryan, but she couldn’t get close enough, and when the music came to a stop, she found herself facing Dan Stearns instead.
“Ms. Renwick, it truly is an honor,” Dan said with a little bow.
“Shut it, Dan,” said Kim. “And get close to Ryan.”
“Ryan Jenson?” said Dan.
“Is there another Ryan in this ballroom?” Kim snapped.
Dan’s father ran a hedge fund which, of late, was deep in the red. To ensure his clients got a consistent cash flow even as the fund bled money, the Stearns family had dipped its toes into the drug and sex trades, and left a paper trail that was easy for Kim’s daddy to sniff out.
As such, Dan was going to pledge lots of money on Kim’s behalf this year, regardless of how she treated him.
“Go slowly. You’re being too obvious,” she said as Dan dragged her across the floor. “We’ve got plenty of time to work over to them. Just stay on their left.”
Dan did as he was told, saying nothing.
Ryan Jenson was dancing with Gloria Castillo now, and appeared to have returned to his usual sullen self, a far cry from the Chatty Cathy he became when he was dancing with Nicky. Kim hadn’t seen Ryan speak that much since freshman year.
Since she had paid him a visit to have a little chat.
A little chat. Kim had adopted the phrase, but they were her daddy’s words. They were three words that terrified everyone in DC. A little chat with Galen Renwick meant the end of careers, the end of wealth and power, the beginning of a life of servitude.
Kim had witnessed many little chats over the past few years, but she only had the opportunity to say the words herself one time. In Ryan’s case, a very unique case indeed, Kim had decided that she would take the lead.
And on this night, when the arrival of a new girl wearing a black dress had ruined years of planning, Kim took comfort thinking back on that cloudy October day from freshman year when she went to Ryan’s house and told him it was time for a little chat.
Ryan had never been a problem since that day, or at least, that’s how it appeared. It might be that he was playing her all this time, that he was pretending to behave, all the while orchestrating the surprise arrival of Nicky Bloom in a black dress.
If Ryan had broken their deal, so help her, she would make him pay. Oh, would she make him pay.
The dancers were moving counterclockwise around the floor. Kim made Dan work to the inside track of the circle, where they could make up some ground. As they passed Mattie and Brian, Kim heard one of them mention Jada Razor. As they passed Jill and Jerome, she heard Jada Razor’s name again.
“Why is everyone talking about Jada Razor?” she asked Dan.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe she has a new album coming out?”
“Who cares if she has a new album coming out? We’re at the Homecoming ball for Christ’s sake.”
“You were the one who asked.”
“Just forget it. Stay close to Ryan. The music is slowing down.”
As they slowed to a stop, Kim took the lead, and pushed herself next to Ryan and Gloria, so when the music stopped, Ryan had no choice but to turn to Kim for the partner change.
He gave her a brief, dismissive look, then said, “I think I’m going to sit this one out.”
“Well then, I suppose I am as well,” said Kim. “Shall we go to the bar?”
r /> Ryan sighed, and walked off the dance floor. Kim slid her arm inside his and accompanied him to the bar.