Pool Boys (13 page)

The good news was that nobody from Silver Oaks had called the von Klaus residence yet to complain about Charlotte’s performance last night. (She preferred the word “performance” to “near-complete mental breakdown.”) Maybe Mr. Farnsworth and the rest of the board figured they could rely on the old axiom: Ignore something unpleasant and it will go away. If they simply pretended Charlotte didn’t exist, why would she want to hang out at their club anymore?

The bad news was that Mom caught her making out with Caleb in front of the house when he’d dropped her off.

Mom had given Charlotte the typical song-and-dance about how men weren’t to be trusted, but Charlotte had tuned her out. She didn’t want anything to ruin what she’d shared with Caleb—that unforgettable moment of connection in the pool, and then the ride home, during which they’d held hands and told each other all the truths they’d pretended weren’t there for all those years.

Now, the next morning, Charlotte lay in bed, staring dreamily at the ceiling. Her mom had gone to the club to “patch things up.” Charlotte didn’t want things patched.
She snatched up her cell and dialed the only person she wanted in that moment.

“Hello?” Caleb answered. “C?”

“Hey there, stallion.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear your voice. Can I call you right back?”

Charlotte giggled. “You’re
that
glad, huh?”

“Don’t ask,” he moaned. “I’m in the middle of a fight with my parents about going to the stupid freaking ball tonight, which I have no intention of doing, but—”

BEEP.

“That’s my other line,” Charlotte said. “Call me or I’ll call you.” She clicked the flash button. Her breath quickened when she saw the ID. It was Georgia. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Georgia said quietly.

“Hey, yourself.”

Georgia paused. “All right. There’s a lot I want to say right now, but I think it’s best if I just do it in person. I heard about what happened last night.”

“You mean, that I almost had sex with Caleb Ramsey in the pool?”

“You
what?”

“Yeah. It was pretty wild.”

Georgia was quiet for a second. “I—I mean, I heard you guys kissed, but—”

“I’m kidding, G,” Charlotte said dryly. She leaned back in bed and scratched Stella McCartney’s belly. All of a sudden, she realized she was still wearing her Birkenstocks.
She hadn’t changed out of them after walking Stella this morning. She hadn’t been thinking about her shoes. She’d only been thinking of Caleb.
Yikes.
Was this what it meant to be in love?

“Listen, C, can I come over?”

Charlotte shrugged, baffled.
We get in the worst fight of our lives, and now you want to come over?
“Uh…well…”

“Well, you don’t have much of a choice, I’m afraid. I’m in your driveway.”

“You are?” Charlotte jumped out of bed and hurried over to her window, parting the curtains with one hand. She nearly laughed. There was Georgia, all right—waving from the driver’s seat of her SUV. She was wearing the same outfit she’d worn when Charlotte and Brooke had found her in the rain at the state park on the Fourth of July…only there was one crucial difference.

This time, she was also wearing the ratty Darien County Fair bracelet. It dangled from her wrist as she waved.

Charlotte wasn’t even sure how she felt. But maybe it was best not to feel. Maybe it was best just to
act.
She threw down her phone and hurried downstairs, opening the door.

Georgia stood on the front stoop. Her straight blonde hair hung in a narrow part over most of her face.

Charlotte nodded toward the friendship bracelet on Georgia’s wrist. “What’s with that?”

Georgia shrugged. “Nothing. I just felt sort of naked without it.”

“Oh,” Charlotte said. Her lips quivered. She wiped her eyes and bungled an attempt at a laugh. “Well, I know all about feeling naked.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

The two girls started laughing at the same time, and then Georgia took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Charlotte, who was already hugging her back.

“Is this totally cheesy?” Charlotte whispered, squeezing Georgia tight.

“If so, I’m dealing with it.” Georgia laughed, sniffling. Charlotte peered over Georgia’s shoulder. A car was pulling into the driveway: a green Jaguar. Brooke’s dad’s car. The car he lent to Brooke only on special occasions. Georgia and Charlotte broke apart, staring. The driver’s side door slammed, and Brooke hopped out—stylishly but casually dressed in jeans and a tank top, made-up, and carrying her purse. She eyed Georgia, then smiled at Charlotte.

“Come on, C,” she announced. “We’re going shopping.”

“Uh…we are?” Charlotte asked, her eyes darting between Georgia and Brooke.

“Yes. We are. Not for the Midsummer Ball, though. I’m boycotting it if you can’t come. But the pre-ball shopping expedition is a tradition, and I’m not going to break tradition. This time, we’re going shopping for
ourselves.”
She hesitated in the driveway, very deliberately ignoring Georgia. “So are you in, or out?”

Charlotte didn’t answer. She glanced at Georgia again.
Georgia stepped toward Brooke. “B, let me—”

“I was talking to Charlotte,” Brooke interrupted.

“Brooke, I don’t like Marcus,” Georgia blurted.

Brooke scowled at her. “So why did you
kiss
him?”

“I wish I never had,” she said with a heavy sigh. “And I have to be honest with you. He is amazingly gorgeous, and I was going through a hard time…but…”

“But what?”

“But he’s not the
one.
Look…Don’t get mad, all right?”

Brooke placed her hands on her hips. “G, it would be hard for me to get any madder than I already am.”

“I don’t think he’s the one for
you
, either,” Georgia said quietly. “You deserve better. He’s a total player. He capitalizes on his looks. You shouldn’t rush into something just because he’s hot. Not to mention the fact that he’s an employee…” She grinned sadly. “I know. Pot calling the kettle black and all.”

Brooke didn’t answer.

Charlotte held her breath.
Come on, B
, she pleaded silently.
Stop being so stubborn. People break rules all the time…
Her hopes rose. She could see that Brooke was staring at Georgia’s friendship bracelet, and that her face was starting to soften.

Nobody said a word.

“Actually, the real question is, who uses the word ‘capitalizes’ in casual conversation?” Charlotte pointed out, just to break the silence.

Georgia laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Brooke demanded, pursing her lips.

“We are,” Charlotte said. “Look, B. Georgia just gave me a hug, and I highly suggest
you
give
her
a hug. You’re the power nexus. The ringleader. You are the Tina Turner to our…whoever the other two singers were.”

Finally, Brooke cracked a smile.

Georgia extended her arms, her friendship bracelet hanging from her left wrist. “B, I swear to you…Actually, I want to swear to both of you.” Georgia stepped forward. “I’m so sorry.”

Brooke nodded thoughtfully. She flicked a stray strand of jet-black hair out of her face. “G, even if I accept your apology, what about Valerie? She’s hit on pretty much every boy at Silver Oaks except Robby Miller.”

Georgia nodded. “Yeah. I know. I was pissed at her, too, about Ethan. But I think I get her now. She really just wanted to make friends with people.”

“To say the least,” Brooke said, but she smiled again. She turned to Charlotte. “The real question is, what are we going to do about
you?”

Charlotte shuffled forward in her Birkenstocks, squinting in the morning sunshine. Stella shambled out the door beside her. “You’re going to the ball,” she said. “Both of you.”

“Are you nuts?” Brooke and Georgia asked at the same time.

“Jinx!” Charlotte cried.

They rolled their eyes simultaneously. Charlotte allowed herself a grin.

“Hey, how about we figure this out over some food?”
Georgia said. “Wanna go into town for shopping and brunch?”

Brooke shrugged. “Fine. But I still have to figure out what to do about Marcus. He asked me to the ball.”

Georgia shrugged, too. “Great,” she said. “All the more reason to come up with a plan.”

And as the three girls regarded one another, all of them half smiling, none could deny that things between them were feeling suspiciously back to normal.

The Midsummer Ball was everything Caleb had expected, and more. Meaning: It was the exact same fiasco Silver Oaks had thrown last year.

Hello, people? First: A Midsummer Night does not fall in August. Second: Festooning the dining room with cheesy streamers and magical fairy dust, and having people dress up in silly gowns and tuxes, does not make for a romantic evening. Well, maybe it does, but not if your new girlfriend is uninvited.

To make matters worse, Jimmy and the rest of the staff were serving the crab cakes and mushroom puffs while dressed in feathered caps, kilts, and ruffled shirts—Shakespearean garb. It was too painful. Caleb wondered why he’d even agreed to come to this travesty.

Then he remembered. His parents had forced him.

And it wasn’t as if he could have said no, because A) he didn’t have the
cajones
and B) Charlotte had insisted that he go—even though that pissed him off to no end. It was accepting defeat. It was tacitly saying, “Yes, C, I’ll go to this stupid induction ceremony to which
you
aren’t invited, even though you’re the only reason I bother coming to this club
every single day, anyway.” But she promised him that she’d see him later. And there was a note in her voice, a suggestive tone he’d never heard before, that made him think something he probably shouldn’t have, but couldn’t help it…

Maybe tonight will be the night.

It was supposed to be the night, anyway. At least that’s what he’d always envisioned. He and Charlotte were supposed to have been swept up in that same Shakespearean magic all the grown-ups allowed themselves to be swept up in—and then he would take her home and make passionate love to her. But instead he was stuck here. Alone. Not only wasn’t it magical, but it was cheesy and excruciating and went on and on.

Here, under the direction of their Fearless Leader, Mr. Farnsworth, everyone gathered in a semicircle around the inductees and raised their glasses. Then came the barrage. “When Caleb was four, I remember his favorite outfit was a little sailor’s uniform.”…[Cue laugh track]…“Do you remember the very first time Brooke carried a purse?”…[Cue laugh track again]…Both Caleb and Brooke were required to keep their glasses raised the entire time. Caleb thought his arm would fall off. He’d also stopped listening. He couldn’t help but think of Ethan’s term: “Dinosaurs.” Yes, the dinosaurs had gathered, an extinct species, ostensibly to celebrate their heirs, those who would inherit the Silver Oaks mantle—but the
funniest part was, only half of those scions had showed up: he and Brooke.

Charlotte: Uninvited. Georgia: Canceled.

As if the toasts weren’t bad enough, Caleb and Brooke were then forced to make the Silver Oaks pledge. That would be even
more
painful if it weren’t so pathetic. Yes, they actually had to place their hands on a Bible (a Bible!) and repeat word-for-word the eighty-plus-year-old vow as intoned by Mr. Farnsworth:
“I (State My Name) do solemnly swear to uphold all the rules and regulations of Silver Oaks and to preserve the spirit of the club in all areas of my life, on or off the premises.”
Caleb was not a drinker, but he did solemnly swear that he’d never needed a glass of spiked punch more.

Upon the raucous cheer that followed the pledge, the Silver Oaks members formed two lines—one male, and one female—and Caleb and Brooke, duty-bound, passed down each line and shook every member’s hand, accepting congratulations upon being made a member. Fortunately, Caleb could drain his champagne during this part. And then it was over.

Caleb loosened his tie and slouched back against the bar, sipping his third punch. Truly, booze
was
the only perk. When you were made a member, they let you indulge and imbibe. (Wink, wink!) He glared across the dining room. They’d cleared the tables to allow his parents and the rest of the members to mix and mingle, glasses clinking, chattering emptily.

At least he’d canceled his date with Valerie. (Or he’d left her a voice mail to that effect.) He should have followed Brooke’s lead. As soon as the ritual had reached its conclusion, she’d scooted off to the basement. Who could blame her? She’d come to Silver Oaks tonight against her will, too, and for the exact reason he had: She couldn’t say no to her parents.

And speaking of Brooke…

Marcus had arrived. He was straight out of GQ tonight—pin-striped, three-piece suit, blond hair slicked back…and unlike Caleb, a properly knotted tie.

“What’s up, man,” Marcus said, eyeing the punch bowl. “Congratulations.”

“For what?”

“For being inducted as an official member.”

Caleb burst out laughing, and nearly slipped off the bar.
Hmm.
Maybe he was a little buzzed. “Oh. Well. Thanks.”

“So have you seen Brooke?” Marcus asked.

Caleb took a sip of punch, reigniting the pleasant fire in his belly. “Nope. Can’t say that I have, Marcus.”

“I know she’s here…” Marcus turned and searched
the room. “I guess she was pretty pissed about the whole Georgia thing.”

Caleb shrugged. “The Georgia thing?”

“Yeah. You didn’t hear?”

“About what?”

“That Georgia and I…you know, got together.”

Caleb shook his head. “‘Got together’ might be pushing it there, Marcus.”

Marcus spun back around, his eyes blazing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I talked to Charlotte today. Pretty much all day. And I heard that you tried to kiss Georgia, even though you’ve been sneaking down to the downstairs sauna with Brooke for the past month. Which is cool, bro…I mean—I don’t blame you. As Robe Miller might say, we got mad honeys up in this piece.”

“Robe
Miller?”

Caleb upended his glass. “Inside joke. Forget it.”

“Yeah, well, luckily I won’t have to try to figure out any of your inside jokes anymore,” Marcus muttered. “I gave notice today.”

“What?”
Caleb asked, genuinely taken aback. He’d assumed Marcus would take a swing at him, not make a confession.

“My dad enrolled me in this intensive college prep course. My grades kind of suck, so I need to get it together for next year, you know?”

Caleb nodded. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for
the guy. “Well…uh, you can always hang out here as a guest,” he offered clumsily.

“Yeah. Right.” Marcus scoped out the room once more.

Some emo-rock song began to blare from the speakers set up around the room, and a rapid hush fell over the crowd. After the initial cringing, however, they went right back to mixing and mingling.

“So you haven’t seen Brooke, huh?” Marcus asked. “I want to go look for her. Anything to get away from here…”

“I hear you, bro.” Caleb smiled, watching him hurry out the patio doors. It took a moment for him to recognize the song—it was that band Bright Eyes. Classic! The powers-that-be undoubtedly assumed that Caleb would enjoy it. He looked like that lead singer guy (or so some said). Sure, even though none of his friends were here, just slap on some of that self-pitying music that all the kids love, and Caleb Ramsey would cheer up! Yet the timing couldn’t have been more perfect, because he’d had this very conversation with Charlotte over the phone today, about how much they
both
hated emo.

I’m going to kill you for making me come here tonight, C
, Caleb swore to himself.
And after that, well…
He smiled to himself.

His mind wandered back to the Midsummer Ball last year, when the last batch of heirs had been inducted. He remembered how bored and pissed off they’d looked, and how quickly they’d left. Well, now he could relate. What a
freaking crock this whole thing was! His eyes settled on Mr. Farnsworth, as he held court over a small circle of women: Mrs. Farnsworth, Georgia’s mom, Caleb’s mom, Robby Miller’s mom…so suave and debonair…and only when Mr. Farnsworth returned Caleb’s unsteady gaze did the sparkle fade from his eyes.

Mr. Farnsworth excused himself and headed toward Caleb. “Congratulations again, Caleb,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome to Silver Oaks, officially.”

Caleb shrugged, offering the weakest handshake possible.

“Maybe you ought to lay off the punch a little,” Mr. Farnsworth added.

“Why?” Caleb raised a fresh cup to his lips. “Did you spike it?”

Mr. Farnsworth’s face darkened. “Caleb, you know that was a foolish prank I pulled when I was young.”

Caleb arched an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like what Charlotte pulled last night.”

Mr. Farnsworth’s eyes turned into two black stones. “This is an important evening for you, Caleb. Do you want me to talk to your parents?”

Caleb shook his head. “Not really. I’m just saying: If you can admit to being foolish when you were young, maybe you could cut Charlotte a little slack, too.”

“Caleb, you clearly care about her, and I appreciate that. But let’s face it, the girl has sought professional help, so we know she’s unstable.”

“Are you nuts?” Caleb hissed. A few heads turned, but
Caleb went on. “What planet do you live on? Who
doesn’t
see a shrink these days? If anything, it’s a sign that she’s more stable than most.”

Mr. Farnsworth smiled implacably. “Spin it however you want, Caleb.”

“Spin it? You want spin? Her great-grandfather founded this freaking place with
your
grandfather. And she’s closer with your daughter than you’ll ever…you’ll ever…” Unfortunately, he lost track of where he was going with that argument.

“Pardon?” Mr. Farnsworth’s lip curled in a sneer. “Caleb, you’re not making any sense. I really do think you’ve had quite enough to drink.”

Before Caleb could say another word, Mr. Farnsworth filled his own cup with punch, then strolled away, his face breaking into a wide smile as some new guests arrived: the Packwood family. Truly, the Packwoods were a sight to behold. Valerie’s mom was even taller than Valerie, and just as beautiful, her blonde hair cut stylishly short. And her father looked like a professional athlete. So did her brother.
Look at them
, Caleb fumed.
Smiling and shaking hands…uh-oh.

For some reason, Valerie was hurrying straight toward Caleb.

“Hey,” he gulped. “Sorry I canceled our date, but I just figured—”

“Caleb, can I talk to you for a second?” she interrupted. She turned back toward her family, still bunched together at the dining room entrance, surrounding Mr.
Farnsworth. “Here, come with me.” She took his arm and steered him toward the patio doors, pushing through out into the warm night air.

“What’s up?” he asked, struggling to remain steady.

“I think I made a big mistake,” she murmured.

“What? By asking me to the ball tonight?”

She frowned and shook her head.

“So…what, then? By telling Georgia I made that bet with Ethan?” He smiled and slugged another gulp of punch.

Valerie brought a hand to her forehead. “Well, yeah,
that,”
she mumbled. “And a bunch of other things, too.”

“Did you want to hook up with Ethan?” Caleb asked. “Because I know someone who might have a problem with that—”

“No!” she hissed. “The only reason I’ve been talking to Ethan was because I thought he was trying to screw over Georgia.” She sighed and stamped her foot. “It was a total misunderstanding! I’m not interested in Ethan. I’m not interested in anybody here! Not that way, at least. Um, no offense. See, Georgia called me this morning. And we talked. And after what she told me…I know I should have just kept my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted was to mess everything up between all you guys. I don’t even really know any of you. But I
like
you, all of you…and I guess that’s sort of the point. I wanted to fit in here, and I took it upon myself—”

“Valerie?” Caleb interrupted. He slurred the word slightly. It sounded more like
Val-wee.

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling. But that’s okay. I ramble, too. Anyway, I forgive you. And I get it. You don’t want to screw any of us. In any way, literally or otherwise.”

Valerie chewed her lip, shaking her head. “But I feel like in some way all our misunderstandings led to Charlotte’s freakout.”

“I agree.” Caleb frowned.

“So that’s why we’re doing something about it,” Valerie said, raising her eyebrows.

Caleb grinned, swaying on his feet. In spite of his drunkenness, he felt increasingly sober. Even energized. “Who’s doing what?”

“There’s a plan afoot. Charlotte didn’t tell you because she knew you’d bag coming here if you knew about it. But you need to help me out.” She scooted into the shadows by the cabana entrance and started digging through her shiny clutch. “You have a cell phone, don’t you?”

Caleb nodded. “I do. But just so you know, I’m a little wasted.”