me out.” I swallow and stop rubbing my damp self as I listen to Lindsay. “You saw him, right? Talk about dating outside of one’s echelon….”
I stay still, frozen and now getting a little cold, hoping she won’t see I’m right behind her in the shower area. The bathroom is large — with a wall of sinks topped by mirrors, and then at the back, changing benches and eight shower stalls separated by coral-colored curtains.
“Did you have fun?” Lindsay asks.
I can’t see out the slit in the curtain to know who she’s with, but then I hear Chili. “I did. It meant a lot. Today was…kind of hard.”
I wonder why and then realize she means the lunch with me and Chris and how we told her she needs friends her own age. We didn’t mean to be harsh, and it wasn’t meant to degrade our friendship with her, but now I’m guessing we — or I — wasn’t clear enough. She goes on. “It’s like Love wants the best of both worlds — me around whenever she’s lonely and has no one else, but if it’s a senior thing or with her boyfriend — then forget it.”
Instant guilt combines with a certain aggravation. I mean, fine — feel that way and talk to me, but spew it to Lindsay? To the girl we dissed all summer? Chili was the one who came up with the various LP incarnations — Lame Priss, and so on.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lindsay says. “You’ve got me now. And you were great at dinner. You really showed how diverse I am…” Lindsay stops herself. “I mean, I like having friends with diverse backgrounds. Plus…he was into me, right?” Chili starts to hem and haw.
Ah, so Lindsay used Chili’s mixed race to demonstrate she’s not only old-guard money and stuck-up. And it probably worked. But how can Chili stand being used like that?
“At least you’re honest,” Chili says. “First Love screwed me over on the room thing — no offense, Linds — and then today…Well, never mind. At least we know where her priorities are.”
They know where my priorities are? I’m not even sure I know — how can they be so sure?
I decide that lurking in the shower stall makes me an accomplice to my own demise, so I wrap myself in my towel, grab my shampoo stuffs, and fling aside the curtain. Clearly, they’re surprised. Lindsay’s mouth — filled with her expensive European toothpaste (how necessary is it to import it from Portugal? Ever heard of Tom’s or Crest?) — drops open and Chili looks very embarrassed.
“Love, hi,” Chili says, tugging at her springy hair which I know for a fact means she’s feeling caught and conflicted.
“Don’t you mean goodbye?” I ask. “Isn’t what all that was, Chili? A see-ya to whatever friendship we had?”
Chili clenches her fists and looks at me via the mirror. “That’s what you did! You and Chris — a traditional gang-up on the new girl right at lunch.”
“We weren’t ganging up on you!” I yell, then I realize yelling isn’t going to help. So I talk calmly, keeping my towel tucked by my shoulder. “All we were saying is that we’ll feel really guilty if — nine months from now at graduation — you have no one to sit with while we’re marching across the platform.” I look at her. “My closest friend was a senior when I was a sophomore and it was great, but then it sucked — and I wished…looking back I think I missed out because I didn’t get to know other people.”
“Like?” Chili asks.
“Like me,” Mary Lancaster stands in the doorway, her height filling up most of it, a green toothbrush poised in her hand like a microphone.
I smile at her. “Right.”
“Oh, please,” Lindsay rinses her mouth out and licks her front teeth. “You’re just jealous, Love. Of the time I have with Chilton…” Lindsay uses Chili’s full name and I flinch. “And that I took her out instead of you.”
Instead of me? Um, that’s an invite that would never come. “I don’t need to wine and dine the chancellor…”
“The dean,”
I stay still, frozen and now getting a little cold, hoping she won’t see I’m right behind her in the shower area. The bathroom is large — with a wall of sinks topped by mirrors, and then at the back, changing benches and eight shower stalls separated by coral-colored curtains.
“Did you have fun?” Lindsay asks.
I can’t see out the slit in the curtain to know who she’s with, but then I hear Chili. “I did. It meant a lot. Today was…kind of hard.”
I wonder why and then realize she means the lunch with me and Chris and how we told her she needs friends her own age. We didn’t mean to be harsh, and it wasn’t meant to degrade our friendship with her, but now I’m guessing we — or I — wasn’t clear enough. She goes on. “It’s like Love wants the best of both worlds — me around whenever she’s lonely and has no one else, but if it’s a senior thing or with her boyfriend — then forget it.”
Instant guilt combines with a certain aggravation. I mean, fine — feel that way and talk to me, but spew it to Lindsay? To the girl we dissed all summer? Chili was the one who came up with the various LP incarnations — Lame Priss, and so on.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lindsay says. “You’ve got me now. And you were great at dinner. You really showed how diverse I am…” Lindsay stops herself. “I mean, I like having friends with diverse backgrounds. Plus…he was into me, right?” Chili starts to hem and haw.
Ah, so Lindsay used Chili’s mixed race to demonstrate she’s not only old-guard money and stuck-up. And it probably worked. But how can Chili stand being used like that?
“At least you’re honest,” Chili says. “First Love screwed me over on the room thing — no offense, Linds — and then today…Well, never mind. At least we know where her priorities are.”
They know where my priorities are? I’m not even sure I know — how can they be so sure?
I decide that lurking in the shower stall makes me an accomplice to my own demise, so I wrap myself in my towel, grab my shampoo stuffs, and fling aside the curtain. Clearly, they’re surprised. Lindsay’s mouth — filled with her expensive European toothpaste (how necessary is it to import it from Portugal? Ever heard of Tom’s or Crest?) — drops open and Chili looks very embarrassed.
“Love, hi,” Chili says, tugging at her springy hair which I know for a fact means she’s feeling caught and conflicted.
“Don’t you mean goodbye?” I ask. “Isn’t what all that was, Chili? A see-ya to whatever friendship we had?”
Chili clenches her fists and looks at me via the mirror. “That’s what you did! You and Chris — a traditional gang-up on the new girl right at lunch.”
“We weren’t ganging up on you!” I yell, then I realize yelling isn’t going to help. So I talk calmly, keeping my towel tucked by my shoulder. “All we were saying is that we’ll feel really guilty if — nine months from now at graduation — you have no one to sit with while we’re marching across the platform.” I look at her. “My closest friend was a senior when I was a sophomore and it was great, but then it sucked — and I wished…looking back I think I missed out because I didn’t get to know other people.”
“Like?” Chili asks.
“Like me,” Mary Lancaster stands in the doorway, her height filling up most of it, a green toothbrush poised in her hand like a microphone.
I smile at her. “Right.”
“Oh, please,” Lindsay rinses her mouth out and licks her front teeth. “You’re just jealous, Love. Of the time I have with Chilton…” Lindsay uses Chili’s full name and I flinch. “And that I took her out instead of you.”
Instead of me? Um, that’s an invite that would never come. “I don’t need to wine and dine the chancellor…”
“The dean,”
Similar Books
