do this, I’m gonna get back at him. That’s for damn sure.”
She shoved her feet into a pair of Havaianas. “All right, you guys, let’s go. Time to get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Lizzie asked, alarmed.
“Montauk,” Carina said. “We’ll have the place to ourselves. My dad went to LA. And it’s my last chance to go there till I
start indentured servitude.”
“But—” Lizzie started.
“What?” Carina asked, wiping her puffy eyes. “You can’t go?”
Lizzie felt Hudson watching her tensely. Of course she had to go. She couldn’t desert her friend now. Not even to go back
to Todd’s house and try to rescue her evening. “No, that’s fine, I mean…”
“Oh my God, Todd’s party!” Carina realized, grabbing her arm. “I forgot! If you want to go back, Lizbutt, you totally can.”
“No, let’s go. It’s not a big deal.”
“You sure?” Carina held on to Lizzie’s arm.
“Totally. Let’s go.”
When they reached the lobby, the Jurg’s massive black Range Rover was waiting for them in front of the building. Carina could
summon it whenever she wanted, along with Karl’s driver, Max. As Lizzie followed her friends into the backseat, she reached
into her bag for her phone. She’d have to just send Todd a text. She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t desert her friend.
Can’t make it back to the party, but have a great time! I’ll explain later…
Clearly, she wasn’t going to get into Carina’s drama with him in a text.
For that night and most of Sunday, the three of them walked on the beach, watched an entire season of
Project Runway
, and swam in the Jurg’s lagoon-shaped pool. Little by little Carina began to show progress. By Sunday she was almost back
to her old, bossy self, criticizing Nina Garcia’s comments and pointing out how much better her version of a dress made from
car parts would be. But Lizzie couldn’t get her mind off Todd. She played the scene on the roof over and over in her mind.
She checked her iPhone every five minutes.
On Sunday afternoon, she couldn’t take it any longer. During a break in the
Runway
marathon, she stole into the Jurg’s office and wrote Todd a message on Facebook.
How was the party??
For the rest of the day, she checked her e-mail inbox frantically. He never wrote back.
chapter 10
Lizzie sat on the edge of her desk in homeroom, her eyes locked on the doorway like a Marine-trained sniper. It was Monday
morning, and Todd still hadn’t written her back. A thousand possibilities had begun to race through her head, but only three
seemed likely. He a) was offended by her bizarre last-minute exit, b) thought she was crazy because of her bizarre last-minute
exit, or c) had suddenly moved back to London.
Madame Dupuis stood at the front of the room in one of her heinously authentic pantsuits from the seventies. Her clothes were
so bad that sometimes you could barely look at her. Why were teachers so clueless?
“Allez, allez,”
she called out in her French Canadian accent, furrowing her unibrow over the class list. “Lisa Angelides.”
“Here.”
“Bryan Buka.”
“Here.”
“Lizzie, relax, he’ll be here,” Carina whispered on her left. She had made a full recovery since Friday night, and was now
doing her geometry homework at the last minute. Hudson was reading a copy of
Teen Vogue
.
“Ava Elting,” Madame droned.
“Here!” Ava yelled from her corner, lifting her auburn head. Then she went back to whispering with the Icks. The bunch of
them had been in a huddle since homeroom had started. Something big had gone down this weekend, that was for sure.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hall made Lizzie look back toward the door, and suddenly Todd rushed into the room,
his pale cheeks flushed and his hair wet and piecey. He looked completely embarrassed and a little groggy, as if he’d overslept.
“So sorry,” he stammered politely. “Really. So
She shoved her feet into a pair of Havaianas. “All right, you guys, let’s go. Time to get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Lizzie asked, alarmed.
“Montauk,” Carina said. “We’ll have the place to ourselves. My dad went to LA. And it’s my last chance to go there till I
start indentured servitude.”
“But—” Lizzie started.
“What?” Carina asked, wiping her puffy eyes. “You can’t go?”
Lizzie felt Hudson watching her tensely. Of course she had to go. She couldn’t desert her friend now. Not even to go back
to Todd’s house and try to rescue her evening. “No, that’s fine, I mean…”
“Oh my God, Todd’s party!” Carina realized, grabbing her arm. “I forgot! If you want to go back, Lizbutt, you totally can.”
“No, let’s go. It’s not a big deal.”
“You sure?” Carina held on to Lizzie’s arm.
“Totally. Let’s go.”
When they reached the lobby, the Jurg’s massive black Range Rover was waiting for them in front of the building. Carina could
summon it whenever she wanted, along with Karl’s driver, Max. As Lizzie followed her friends into the backseat, she reached
into her bag for her phone. She’d have to just send Todd a text. She didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t desert her friend.
Can’t make it back to the party, but have a great time! I’ll explain later…
Clearly, she wasn’t going to get into Carina’s drama with him in a text.
For that night and most of Sunday, the three of them walked on the beach, watched an entire season of
Project Runway
, and swam in the Jurg’s lagoon-shaped pool. Little by little Carina began to show progress. By Sunday she was almost back
to her old, bossy self, criticizing Nina Garcia’s comments and pointing out how much better her version of a dress made from
car parts would be. But Lizzie couldn’t get her mind off Todd. She played the scene on the roof over and over in her mind.
She checked her iPhone every five minutes.
On Sunday afternoon, she couldn’t take it any longer. During a break in the
Runway
marathon, she stole into the Jurg’s office and wrote Todd a message on Facebook.
How was the party??
For the rest of the day, she checked her e-mail inbox frantically. He never wrote back.
chapter 10
Lizzie sat on the edge of her desk in homeroom, her eyes locked on the doorway like a Marine-trained sniper. It was Monday
morning, and Todd still hadn’t written her back. A thousand possibilities had begun to race through her head, but only three
seemed likely. He a) was offended by her bizarre last-minute exit, b) thought she was crazy because of her bizarre last-minute
exit, or c) had suddenly moved back to London.
Madame Dupuis stood at the front of the room in one of her heinously authentic pantsuits from the seventies. Her clothes were
so bad that sometimes you could barely look at her. Why were teachers so clueless?
“Allez, allez,”
she called out in her French Canadian accent, furrowing her unibrow over the class list. “Lisa Angelides.”
“Here.”
“Bryan Buka.”
“Here.”
“Lizzie, relax, he’ll be here,” Carina whispered on her left. She had made a full recovery since Friday night, and was now
doing her geometry homework at the last minute. Hudson was reading a copy of
Teen Vogue
.
“Ava Elting,” Madame droned.
“Here!” Ava yelled from her corner, lifting her auburn head. Then she went back to whispering with the Icks. The bunch of
them had been in a huddle since homeroom had started. Something big had gone down this weekend, that was for sure.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hall made Lizzie look back toward the door, and suddenly Todd rushed into the room,
his pale cheeks flushed and his hair wet and piecey. He looked completely embarrassed and a little groggy, as if he’d overslept.
“So sorry,” he stammered politely. “Really. So
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