The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth (13 page)

“Maybe I’m just that kind of person. But you’ve never given me a chance to be who I am.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “There’s more to Surfing Barbie than meets the eye. Who knew?”

“Maybe. And maybe there’s more to the PeeGee Princess, too.”

Her gaze held mine for a couple of seconds. “That still doesn’t solve the Cotillion problem.”

“Maybe not. But I’d like to think it solved a few others.”

Her lips twitched again. Then she chuckled. And finally she threw her head back and laughed—a real laugh. I had never seen Vanessa Talbot laugh before, ever. Sneer derisively, sure. Snarl, bait, smile, and tease, yup. But never laugh.

Neither had anyone else in the coffee bar. People gawked, and some sophomore actually whipped out her camera phone and took a picture.

It was contagious, too. When she finally got control of herself, both of us were smiling. “All right, Barbie,” she said at last and shook her hair back. “You’ve got more spine than I gave you credit for.”

“Truce?” I said, just to be sure.

“Truce. We have work to do.”

“Friends?” I pressed. As Mac would say, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” But her lips twitched again as she said it.

The Ginger Ale Effect? Or the power of God?

I had a feeling they were the same thing.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Date: May 17, 2010

Re: Gossip

Hey, lassie! (How do you say that in Spanish?) I miss you too—thanks for the pic of your mum’s muslin. That’s what you call it, right? The practice dress. I hope she realizes how amazingly talented you are, because that is going to be one beautiful wedding ensemble.

I got a note from Shani and I’m still quite in shock. Lissa and La Talbot friends? I’d be less surprised if you’d told me Posh and Becks had grown out their hair and joined a commune. How is this even possible? Vanessa hates Lissa. And our L is too trusting for her own good. I’m very much afraid it’s all a ruse and V is setting her up for some horrific fall.

Watch out for her, will you? I told Shani the same. Lissa’s heart is in the right place but sometimes her head is… blond. Don’t let her get hurt.

Dad sends his regards, and Mummy says please come for a month before you start college. She’s going to be mucking out the attics and wants an informed opinion on some of that old clobber. Namely: museum, jumble sale, or PREZZIE FOR YOU. Hee hee. I’m not too proud to resort to bribery.

Please come!!

Love, Mac

PRAYER CIRCLE IS
the one place where a person’s true feelings can come out—where you can feel safe letting them out.

And no one showed her feelings more than Carly, who sat opposite me, practically glowing. Why? Because sitting next to her was Brett, who, she had texted us all, had asked her what he needed to do to become a Christian. Yes. Brett Loyola, scion of one of San Francisco’s wealthiest families, captain of the rowing team, former bad boy… giving his heart to God. Can we just pause for a moment to appreciate that?

I know they’ve talked about faith stuff in private. The whole “no sex before marriage” discussion came up right away last spring, when they first got together, just in case he had other ideas. But there’s a difference between talking about something and acting on it, as I had been proving myself this last week or so.

I was dying to ask her if he was going to church with her on Sunday, but it would have to wait until later. As it was, I exchanged a sparkly glance with Gillian that was as close as we could get to “Squeee!” without saying a word.

There was a lot of praising going on in that room, so when my turn came around, I just let it rip.

“Father in heaven, I am really glad to be here tonight to see all the unique ways You show love to Your children. Your face is really shining on Carly, with her mom and Brett and Parsons and FIDM and everything. Thank You for that. So tonight I just really want to praise You for getting me past Vanessa Talbot’s deflector shields and helping us connect. Help me be the friend she needs, Lord, and help me be as transparent as glass so she can see You without me getting in the way. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

There were a couple of ticks of silence before Derrik Vaughan, who was sitting next to me, began to pray, and when I glanced at Gillian again, her eyes were closed and her face had become solemn. So, okay, I hadn’t really talked to her since yesterday. She and Jeremy—still officially together as far as I knew—had decided to take Monday night off to let their cortexes unkink and had gone to a movie, and I’d been asleep when she came in. Consequently this morning had been a rush of nearly sleeping through the alarm and throwing clothes on and rushing down to breakfast. So I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the breakthrough in Starbucks.

I looked forward to telling her the details. I mean, prayer is a good foundation for a change in any relationship, but then you have to act, right? So both our philosophies could be right in the long term.

Big picture or deets, I didn’t get a chance to say any of it. After we finished up with a contemporary praise song, the whole group seemed buoyed along by happy spirits and wound up at the juice bar down the hill.

So much for BFF dishing time.

Or so I thought, until Shani climbed onto the high stool next to me with her ginger and lemongrass in a tall, slender glass. “So.” She flipped out her phone and tapped her way to a familiar-looking photograph of a laughing Vanessa, the back of my head on one side of the frame. “What’s the story here? Word is you and the PeeGee VeeTee had a big public blowout.”

“I heard you threatened to spank her.” Carly put her handbag on a stool to save the latter for Brett, who was still at the counter, and got comfortable across from me.

Shani snorted juice and clapped a napkin to her face. “You just made me spew!”

“I told her that was what she needed. I didn’t volunteer to do it.”

“Did I really hear that?” Gillian paused in the act of pulling up a stool. “
Spanked?
”

Brett and Derrik Vaughan joined us, both carrying glasses of something revolting and green.

“What
is
that?”

“Wheatgrass and carrot juice.” Brett took a big swallow. “All the guys on crew drink it.”

“Ewwww,” we chorused. I knocked back half my organic unpasteurized apple juice in sheer defense.

Brett waited until I was finished. “So it’s true? You and Vanessa decided to forgive and forget?”

“I think she needs a friend,” I said slowly. The juice tasted like a bite of a fresh-picked apple, like late summer when I was a kid and the only complication life held was the big red circle on the calendar that meant the first day of school. “Mr. Jones put her in a project group with Shani and me, so we have to work together. But I think it’s something bigger. A God thing.”

“Maybe it is. This is not the face of someone forced to work together.” Shani waggled the phone at the group before she put it back in her bag. “I can’t believe you guys met without me.”

“She insisted. She says you’re not nice to her.”

Shani’s eyes bugged out. “Me? Not nice to
her?
”

“I told her it went both ways, and she told me not to preach. That’s when I lost it and told her she needed a spanking. But it ended well, so that’s the main thing.”

Brett chuckled into his glass. “I’d have bought a ticket to see that.”

“I would, too,” Gillian said. “We might have to start lifting up
Lissa
in prayer circle at this rate.”

“Speaking of prayer circle, what’s all this about Parsons and FIDM?” Brett nudged Carly with his shoulder. “You holding out on me?”

Carly shot me an agonized glance.

Uh-oh. Prayer circle was good for a lot of things, but clearly there was such a thing as too much truth. Especially when you appeared to be keeping it from your boy-friend.

P
ARSONS?” DERRIK REPEATED
. “Is that in SoCal? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a design school in New York City,” Gillian told him. “Carly, did you get accepted there?”

She nodded, then looked at Brett. “But don’t worry. I’m not going.”

His shoulders relaxed. “That’s good. You can’t go that far away. Berkeley’s a great school. You’ll like it.”

“Um, actually, I’m not going there, either.”

Brett’s hand jerked so that the remaining juice in his jumbo glass sloshed halfway up the sides. “What?”

“Can we not talk about this here?”

“Why not? I mean, when were you planning to tell me? Where are you going?” Then his face cleared. “Oh, I get it. You got accepted at Stanford, too. That’s even better!”

She pulled away from his hug. “No. I picked a school that’s not even in the Bay Area.”

From where I sat, all the way across the table, I could see the color drain out of his face. “What?”

“I’m going to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles,” Carly said quietly. “They only accept a few people every year, so it was a huge deal to get in.” She held his gaze with hers, her expression soft. “Be happy for me. It’s my dream come true.”

“Your dream? What about us? What about that dream?”