Homecoming Masquerade, The (7 page)

The music began to slow. Jill
raced Brian across the floor until they were right next to Christine Archibald,
a bottom-tier girl who would believe anything Brian told her.

“She might deny it to the end,
Brian,” said Jill. “But I guarantee you she knows about Nicky’s party. She’s
supposed to keep it a secret from you. If you can’t get her to talk, just keep
your ears open tonight. You’ll hear the truth eventually. The place to be
tonight is the Hamilton, not the White House.”

As the music came to a stop and
Jill separated herself from Brian, she caught the look on his face. Utter
confusion. What a buffoon.

But he turned to Christine and
began the next dance, just as Jill had told him to. Hopefully, when Brian
starting blabbing about some secret rebellion against Kim, Christine would
believe it, and help spread the word.

Jill turned to her next partner,
Jerome Lucero, and began to dance. A few steps in, she asked him if he’d heard
about the mass exodus from Kim’s party, about how amazing Nicky’s party
promised to be, and what he was going to do.

N
icky and Ryan had lapped the
floor twice without a word between them. Nicky wanted to open the conversation,
but knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with him if she pushed him into speaking.
Ryan wasn’t someone who liked to be pushed. So she waited.

Eventually, he broke the
silence, saying, “I had no idea you were planning to enter the contest.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Nicky
said, truthfully. “But it was important that nobody knew.”

“You didn’t trust me to keep
your secret?”

“No, that’s not it,” Nicky said.
“With you it was different. With you, I didn’t tell you because I was worried
it might mess things up between us.”

“Well, here you are tonight
wearing black,” said Ryan. “I’d say things are messed up.”

“You don’t want anything to do
with me anymore, do you?”

“Nicky, I don’t understand why
you entered. It doesn’t seem like you at all. I never would have expected this.
I thought you were different.”

It was heartbreaking to hear him
say the words. A part of Nicky wanted to take him outside right now and tell
him he was right, that she was different, that she was playing a character and
this was all an act.

That the real Nicky hated the
immortals, but liked Ryan Jenson.

Such a tricky little devil this
one had turned out to be. In the two weeks between the start of school and the
Homecoming Masquerade, Nicky’s primary objective was to cozy up to Ryan, to get
him interested enough that he would throw his tremendous wealth behind her. And
while it took Nicky a little bit to figure him out, once she did, she and Ryan
really hit it off.

Ryan had no interest in social
status, gossip, or any of the other things that mattered so much to the
students of Thorndike Academy. He liked to relate to people in a more
substantive way.

So Nicky had to become more
substantive. Unfortunately, real substance wasn’t something you could fake, so
she had resorted to playing herself. For two weeks, she and Ryan hung out every
day at lunch and after school, being themselves.

Nicky loved it. A part of her
wished she and Ryan could just go on being themselves for the rest of the year.

The problem was, the real Nicky,
the one she showed for Ryan, would never wear black to Homecoming. The real
Nicky saw Coronation as the atrocity that it was. Even though she didn’t speak
with Ryan about her hatred for the immortals, for Thorndike, for Coronation, it
all was implied. She was being herself, after all. So when Nicky walked through
the door of Renata’s mansion in a black dress, Ryan was confused and disappointed.
He had to be. He knew the real Nicky, and the real Nicky would never have
entered this contest.

“Can I tell you something if you
promise never to tell anyone else?” she said.

“You can tell me whatever you
want, but I’m not promising you anything,” said Ryan.

“Okay, I can understand that.
You trusted me once, but now you don’t. I don’t blame you. But here’s the
thing. I still trust you. I trust that you’ll understand why what I’m about to
tell you needs to be a secret.”

Ryan looked at her with skepticism.

“I really enjoyed spending time
with you these past two weeks, and I know that wearing this dress has—”

“Is this what I’m not supposed
to tell anyone? That you enjoyed spending time with me?”

“No, I’m just trying to...”

Nicky was stumbling over her
words on purpose. She had allowed Ryan to get so close that he might know she
was lying if she didn’t make it good.

“Just trying to what?”

“It wasn’t my choice, Ryan. None
of this was my choice.”

Ryan pulled back so he could get
a better look at Nicky’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Nicky leaned in close and
whispered in Ryan’s ear.

“I have backers. People who want
to ensure Kim doesn’t win, but have to be secretive about it.”

It pained her to lie to him, but
it was necessary, and part of the plan. “The secret consortium” behind Nicky
Bloom was both Jill’s and Nicky’s script tonight.

The secret consortium story was
Jill’s idea, and it was a good one. Not only did it give credibility to Nicky
and her campaign, but it did so in a neat little package that practically sold
itself. It was such a juicy little story that people couldn’t help but spread
it around. The notion that people in this very room had become fed up with the
Renwicks and tried to take matters into their own hands was a compelling one,
and every time a person passed on the story, it became that much closer to
truth. In DC, truth had nothing to do with reality and everything to do with
what other people said.

“I figured as much,” said Ryan. “Some
insider types who can’t stomach the thought of a Renwick who lives forever, but
are terrified to take them on directly. They’ve put you here, right?”

“Exactly,” said Nicky. “They’ve
put me here to win.”

This was the other thing that
made the secret consortium such a good ploy. It gave Nicky an out with Ryan. It
removed culpability from her. She was just another victim of the Washington
machine, forced to enter the Coronation contest against her will.

“Let me guess,” Ryan said. “The
Crenshaws from North Carolina are a part of this. And the Hernandez brothers.”

“You know I can’t give you any
names,” Nicky said. “The whole point is that they wanted to do it in secret.
They want to beat the Renwicks, but in a way that they remain invisible while
it’s happening. My backers are scared of Galen Renwick.”

“Your backers are right to be
scared,” Ryan said. “But if you’re going to win, at some point they’re all
going to have to come out of the woodwork, aren’t they?”

“Yes, and that’s why my first
task was to build a relationship with you.”

Ryan’s feet started dancing out
of rhythm. Nicky pulled him back to the beat.

“That really pisses me off,
Nicky,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

They danced a few beats. The
music was a slow tempo waltz.

 “You’re telling me I was just a
pawn in your game,” Ryan said. “I can’t believe – these past two weeks...”

“Ryan, I was only pretending in
the very beginning. I knew that first day when we went out to lunch that there
was something between us. I felt it, and I quit playing the part. I really like
you and it kills me—”

“Don’t talk about this like it’s
not your choice. You’re the one wearing the dress tonight. You’re the one who
becomes immortal if you win.”

“I know all that, and I’ve made
my own peace with how it has to be,” Nicky said, reciting a line she had
rehearsed in her head before falling asleep the night before. “But I never
chose this. I was chosen. Powerful people in Washington found me and decided I
was the one they were looking for. My family was broke, Ryan. We were deep in
debt, on the edge of slavery for all I know. My parents couldn’t resist. We
were nothing when they agreed to this plan where I enter Coronation to beat Kim
Renwick. Now we’re millionaires. But if I blow this, well, I don’t know what
will happen to me or my family.”

They danced in silence for a
time before Ryan said, “So I was supposed to be your first big donor.”

Nicky was crying now. The tears
were faked, but they were easy to come by.

“Yes,” she said. “My backers
thought that you were the one with the courage to stand up to Kim and lead the
way.”

Ryan smiled, then began to
laugh. “What?” Nicky said, laughing back at him. At that moment, her eyes
caught Jill looking right at her. Jill looked away.

“I’m just laughing at how fucked
up this whole world is,” Ryan said.

“I’m glad you can laugh about
it. I can’t.”

“Here’s the deal, Nicky Bloom.
I’m not donating on your behalf. Ever. And it’s not because I’m mad at you for
using me, even though I am. And it’s also not because I don’t want you to win.
Hell, if somebody’s got to win, it might as well be you rather than Kim. But I
don’t get to make that choice. I’m like you. My choice has been made for me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that powerful people
in Washington have a hold on me too, and, just like you, I’m acting against my
will.”

Powerful people? Who in the
world was powerful enough to tell Ryan Jenson what to do? His family was one of
the wealthiest in the history of the world.

“Ryan, are you saying...do the
Renwicks have something on you?”

Ryan nodded. Nicky’s shoulders
slumped. She used the mother of all curse words for the second time that night,
showing the very real frustration that she felt.

This was bad news, and a big
error on the Network’s part. The Network’s intel officers were certain they
knew of every single blackmailing scheme that Kim and her father were running.
They didn’t know of anything being held over Ryan’s head.

The music was starting to slow.
The song was coming to an end. It would be awhile before Nicky had another
chance to talk to Ryan in private. She needed to pull herself together and try
to figure something out.

“I can help, Ryan,” she said. “I
have powerful friends.”

“You can’t help me with this
one. There’s not a thing you can do or say that will keep Kim from getting my
money this year.”

“Maybe if you just told me a
little bit. I swear you’d be amazed at what these people—”

“Forget it, Nicky. You have your
secrets and I have mine. And I’m sad that things have worked out this way, but
that’s kind of how it goes, isn’t it? The immortals take our money, play with
our lives, enslave little kids, and eat people for dinner, and we all just have
to sit back and watch it happen. Sometimes the bad people win, and the good
people have to do whatever is necessary just to stay alive.”

The music came to a stop.

“Good luck, Nicky,” said Ryan,
then he turned to dance with someone else.

W
hen 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?”

Ryan sighed, and walked off the
dance floor. Kim slid her arm inside his and accompanied him to the bar.