Spoiled (34 page)

And Brooke, stunned, could only watch as Molly turned and walked away.

AS SOON AS SHE LEFT
, students rushed pell-mell into the makeup room, a wave of humanity breaking around Brooke’s rigid, shocked body.

Great. I’m paralyzed. They’re going to have to use the Jaws of Life to lift me out of this building and Brick is going to
throw me into the pool house and hire a mean old nurse to sponge bathe me until I die of a blood clot.

“Brooke.”

She blinked and her eyes focused on what looked like a small bonsai tree standing in front of her.

“Brooke,” Max said again. “I just saw Molly run out of here like her hair was on fire. I couldn’t catch her. What the hell
happened?”

“She’s done,” Brooke said dully, handing Max the tabloid so hard that it thwacked her in the gut.

“Oh, crap,” Max breathed, scanning it.

“Oh, crap,” Brooke echoed.

“Let me guess. You did this,” Max said.

“Please, you think I
want
the whole world to see her wearing that sad little no-name tank top?” Brooke snapped, her senses clearing a bit. “It was
an accident.”

Max eyeballed Brooke for a long moment.

“I believe you,” she finally said. “But I can see why Molly wouldn’t. I probably would’ve left, too. Maybe even punched you
in the face on the way out.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Brooke moaned.

Max tapped the tabloid against her palm, thoughtfully. “I think I know someone who does,” she finally said. She tossed the
tabloid back at Brooke and headed off toward the theater.

“Brooke!”

As if on a lazy Susan, Brooke’s head turned, all motion and no emotion. Mavis Moore, who’d volunteered to be the stage manager
once she’d realized she could do it while knitting and still get the credit on her transcript, appeared before her.

“Don’t you go on soon, or something?” she said to Brooke. “I think it started.”

Mavis was not a good volunteer stage manager.

Brooke stayed rooted to the spot. She could barely remember the name of the damn play.

“Come on,” Mavis said, bodily dragging her backstage.

“Thank God,” Jennifer said, taking over for Mavis and steering Brooke to the spot from which she’d make her entrance. “The
curtain just went up. I almost had a stroke. Where
were
you?”

Brooke let herself peek out at the crowd. Brie sat in the second row, and there was Ari, sitting as close to Teddy as the
armrest would allow. Ari’s parents sat near them, with the Parkers and Jen’s brother, Free, who was sporting his usual feather
boa and a red wig. Stan, to their left, had shaved his chin and put on a suit and was clutching a Kleenex as if prepared to
cry. Perched in the front row wearing a tiny and tight cocktail dress was the almost-A-list starlet from
Beer o’Clock
, and then—dead center with his hand on her knee—there was Brick.

He’s here. Holy crap, he’s here.

“Brooke!” hissed Jennifer. “Pay attention! You’re on in ten seconds!”

Brooke’s mind went blank. All she could see was Molly’s face, then Brick’s, in a never-ending loop. Every second that passed
without going after Molly, Brooke felt the chasm between them get wider—and the amount of trouble she was in get bigger. But
she had no idea where Molly went. And Brick was
here
, at last, supporting her. The child who’d longed for this moment stood next to the adult who knew that, for the first time
ever, she’d made a huge mess that she needed to clean up herself. Fast.

It was the biggest choice Brooke had ever had to make.

Thunderous applause burst in Brooke’s ears. She stared up at the lights, hot and bright, and waved randomly at various parts
of the theater before taking another deep curtsy. She was aware of people getting out of their chairs, not to leave but to
clap harder.

She was a hit.

Brooke had surprised herself by taking those steps onstage, but it worked in her favor: Eliza was supposed to be flummoxed,
having just crashed into Freddy Eynsford-Hill as he ran off to find a cab and knocked her flowers into a puddle. Once she
found her footing, as Eliza did, the rest had been a triumph. The audience laughed. The cast responded with renewed vigor.
Even Jake had been great.

And now, Brick was leaping out of his seat with a bouquet of roses, wrapping his arm around Brooke and weeping tears of joy.

“Brilliant, Sunshine!” he crowed. “I have never been prouder of your grace and talent!”

The crowd let out a collective coo and clapped even harder. Brooke drank it all in: the cheers, the flowers, her father’s
delighted eyes locked on her and only her as they stood in the spotlight, together. It was everything she’d ever wanted.

And it sucked.

Snap out of it,
her inner voice lectured.
This is it. This is your moment.

Yeah. A moment that sucked. She had picked herself over her sister, and even though she partly did it because she thought
Brick would be too embarrassed if she jilted her cast and the audience—the show, as he always said, must go on, after all—Brooke
knew she mostly did it for herself. And she was afraid it meant she really
was
a bad person.

But Molly understood how much Brick’s attendance was worth, right? And once Brooke proved that the e-mail was sent by accident,
Molly had to forgive her, right? She wasn’t unreasonable. And then the two of them together could sit down with Brick and
show him the magazine and present a united, adult front.

In the meantime, there was no wisdom in pretending she hadn’t just brought down the house. With the rapturous approval from
the audience ringing in her ears as the curtain closed for the final time, Brooke gazed up at Brick, who drew her into another
bear hug.

“You are a tribute to the Berlin genes,” he bubbled. “Maybe we should come out with a denim line. Kicky double meaning!”

Brooke giggled against his chest and finally allowed the glee to flood her veins. At last, after sixteen years, Brick finally
saw
her. So whatever waited for Brooke back at the house, it simply couldn’t,
wouldn’t
, have anything but a happy ending. Brooke simply wouldn’t allow it. Not tonight.

“
THIS IS YELLOW CAB.
Your car will arrive in approximately: Two. Minutes.”

Molly hung up on the computer-modulated voice and tucked her boarding pass inside her purse. She hadn’t even bothered trying
to pack everything that belonged to her; she just wanted to go, fast, and she didn’t want to take anything purchased with
Brick’s money back to Indiana. It didn’t feel right. As it was, her suitcase still barely closed over the fringes of the blanket
stitched together from all of Laurel’s scarves.

Molly set her credit card and the keys to the Lexus on top of Brooke’s laptop and slung her bag over her shoulder. She had
been so angry back at school, but now she just felt numb. Soon, she’d be home again, her
real
home, away
from all this endless drama. Where she should have been all along.

From deep in her backpack, she felt her phone buzz again.

“I’m coming,” Molly muttered at it.

She pulled her bulky suitcase down the stairs. It clonked obnoxiously against each marble step, gaining momentum as she got
closer to the bottom. Molly considered letting go of the handle and letting gravity do the rest of the work. It seemed appropriately
destructive.

The doorbell rang.

“I’m
coming
,” she repeated.

Molly opened the door. It was not the cabdriver. It was Teddy.

“What are you doing here?”

“Max grabbed me during intermission,” Teddy said. “I came right over.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Probably just the CliffsNotes version, but it was enough,” he said. “I haven’t seen the magazine, but… you know. I was there.”

Molly forced herself to keep some distance from him. She was so glad to see him, yet so upset that he’d come. Teddy, standing
on her doorstep, still dressed up from the play and looking adorably concerned, was not helping her resolve to leave.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night,” she managed.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Teddy said. “The guy behind
me had awful breath, and Julie Newman’s accent was all over the place.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Arugula?” Molly heard herself ask, hating how petty it sounded.

“What
about
Arugula?”

“I saw you guys at the play today.”

Comprehension dawned. “Is
that
what you meant, about ruining my night?” he asked. “That wasn’t a
date
. That wasn’t… anything. She told me she wanted to talk about our oral report before the play, and then we sat together. That’s
it.” He frowned. “She rubbed against me a little more than usual, I guess, but that’s just Arugula.”

A cab pulled into the driveway and its horn blared. Molly held up one finger, as if to beg it to wait.

“I have to go,” Molly said. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“Wait, what? You’re
leaving
?” Teddy asked, finally noticing her bag. “Because of some stupid story in a tabloid? You’re stronger than that.”

Molly let go of her suitcase, which immediately gave in to physics and fell forward with a
thunk
.

“I don’t think I am, Teddy. I really don’t. I can’t… I just can’t take it anymore. And what about Danny?” she asked. “This
happened to him, too. How is he going to feel when he sees that picture?”

She could feel tears beginning to burn in her throat.

“You know what the funny thing is?” she said. “He and I had a date to talk tomorrow morning. And I’m pretty sure we were going
to break up.”

Teddy stepped closer to her.

“But there’s no way he isn’t going to see this, if he hasn’t already,” Molly kept going, on the verge of hysteria. “It’s on
the Internet, Teddy. And I look like such a jackass.”

“I’m so sorry, Indiana,” Teddy said.

“I never wanted to be part of some stupid vendetta. I never wanted
any
of this,” Molly said. “I just wanted to do the last thing my mother ever asked of me, you know?”

“Then don’t give it up,” Teddy said. “Not without a fight.”

“But I don’t have any fight left, Teddy,” Molly explained, wringing her hands. “Coming here was supposed to fix me, but it’s
just made everything worse. It feels like my mom died all over again, except this time I have nowhere to go but backward.
There’s nothing for me here.”

“There’s me,” Teddy said firmly.

“You have Ari. She obviously likes you.”

“Too bad,” he said. “I like
you
.”

He reached out and cupped her face, flicking away one of Molly’s tears with his thumb.

“You know I do. Right?” he whispered. “You have to know.”

Molly closed her eyes and allowed herself one second of enjoying the feeling of his hand on her skin. It would be so easy
to let him draw her into an embrace, to give in to the way her pulse sped up every time she was around him. The way it was
racing right now.

No. Do not get sucked back into this poisonous place. Not even by Teddy McCormack.

She opened her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I have to go.”

“You don’t, though,” Teddy said almost pleadingly, his face full of otherwise unexpressed emotion. “Don’t give up. Please,
just tell me what you need and I’ll be there. I’ll do it. I’ll be it.”

His brown eyes looked so hopeful, and so sad at the same time. Through her tears, Molly reached up and ruffled his hair.

“I need my mom,” she said, another tear running down her cheek.

“What a night, Sunshine!” Brick said as he turned the Range Rover into the driveway and parked it behind Molly’s Lexus.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Brooke answered. She felt a surge of good cheer at the sight of Molly’s car in the driveway. Her sister was
probably just upstairs, sitting on the balcony and bitching to Clementine, or whatever her name was, while Brooke’s extensive
collection of vintage Marc Jacobs sundresses burned in the bathtub.