The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth (18 page)

“Oh, we e-mail all the time.” We climbed the steps into Ghirardelli Square and by mutual accord headed in the direction of the chocolate shop. It had a big window where you could see the candy machines stirring fudge and vats of chocolate. “At first it was just about graphic art, and then we got to be friends. I’d help her out on a project; she’d help me out on physics. Ugh.”

“That’ll teach you for not taking it last year.”

“Right, Miss Chemistry-Is-Killing-Me.”

Touché. “If it weren’t for Gillian, neither of us would have made it through midterms.”

“So she asked me one time about guys, and then I’d talk to her over e-mail, you know, about stuff.”

Stuff
. That could cover a multitude of things. “What stuff?”

“Boy-girl stuff.”

“You could have talked about that kind of thing with me.” The knife in my chest turned, just enough to hurt again. “You and I talk about everything. After all, who got me through the whole Callum debacle? And Aidan before that?”

“Your taste in men is questionable.”

“What does that say about you?” I shot back.

“I’m not going out with you.”

“You’re going to Cotillion with me. That’s, like, a date.”
What’s a dance without the romance?
Gillian’s wistful voice echoed in my memory. I shook it away.

“Is that what you want it to be?”

I searched his tone for a hint of the way he wanted me to answer, but there was nothing. It was just a question. One with about fifty different answers. I settled for the safe one. “I don’t know.”

Eyes front, he sighed and gazed through the window at the lady rolling out a big sheet of fudge. “You sure take a lot for granted, Lissa. I never actually said I’d go with you.”

Fear stabbed me. “You don’t have plans that weekend, do you? You have to come. It will be fun.”

“That’s all it is to you? Fun?”

Where was he going with this? What kind of answers was he fishing for? “Sure. Dances are always fun. And a bunch of work, in this case. I have to emcee the whole thing, so I’ll be running around with a Bluetooth on my head instead of a nice sparkly hairband.”

“So if I didn’t come, you wouldn’t really miss me. You’ll be busy producing.”

“Not true. We’ll all sit together and dance together. All our friends at the same table.” He turned away from the window. “Don’t you want to buy any fudge?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Nah. I’m not in the mood for sweets.”

That was a first. What was the matter with him? Was it something I said? Was it the wrong thing? What did he want me to say? Talking with Kaz had always been effortless and transparent, like water running in a comfortable creek bed. But now I felt like I was bushwhacking my way through an impenetrable jungle with a pair of nail scissors.

“So,” he said in a changing-the-subject-now voice, “you were going to tell me what this difference of opinion is between you and Jumping Loon.”

“What, besides the fact that she thinks you’re hot?”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “She does?”

“Don’t get a swelled head over it.”

“It’s nice to know someone does.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You just said she thinks I’m hot. And you said that wasn’t the only difference of opinion you had with her. Ergo, you don’t think I’m hot.”

“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.” I tried to make it sound like I was teasing, but it fell flat. “You seem to be a little low on humility this morning.” Oh, dear. That sounded like criticism, which was the last thing I wanted.

“Unlike some people, who can’t make up a fight with their friends because…” He waited for me to fill in the obvious blank.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Tell me.”

I latched on to the change of subject with relief. I’d much rather talk about Vanessa than about whether I thought he was drool-worthy. Which I totally did, especially after this morning. Never let it be said that my friends could spot a cute guy before I did. But this was Kaz. Our relationship operated on a higher level. Sure, he was tall and buff and could control a surfboard on a twenty-foot swell as if he were born in the waves. And he had dark brown eyes with long lashes, and half a dozen freckles that drove him crazy, and cut cheekbones and a great mouth and…

“Lissa?”

I blushed as if he could read my mind and see the treacherous path it was taking. “You remember Vanessa Talbot?”

“Dark hair. Killer clothes. Toxic, back-stabbing harpy.”

“Right. Well, she got herself pregnant over Christmas while she was in Italy.”

“Whoa. And this has what to do with anything?”

“We’ve sort of become friends.”

He gawked at me in amazement. “The one who posted the video of you making out with McCloud? The one who sent the Yasiri Secret Service after Shani when you guys were in Scotland? The head of the A-list? We’re talking about that Vanessa?”

“She isn’t the head of the A-list now.” I told him everything—the breakfast tray, why I was suddenly senior consultant, the mockery in the halls… all leading up to why Gillian and I had come to the edge of a disagreement that yawned like a great big chasm between us. “So that’s where I’m stuck,” I concluded unhappily. “And why my first best friend had to tell me about my second best friend’s breakup. I honestly didn’t know.”

“Wow,” Kaz breathed. “Five minutes to process.”

We wandered through Ghirardelli Square and out the other side to the waterfront. I checked my phone to make sure it was on. No messages. The other three were either (a) being incredibly considerate, (b) had no idea we were missing, or (c) two of them had ditched the other, who didn’t want to send up a flare for us and admit it.

We sat on the grass near the seawall and watched the sun dance on San Francisco Bay. Alcatraz rode a thin cushion of mist out in the middle, and the Bay Bridge linked the two sides together, busy with lines of traffic heading back and forth from Oakland. The scent of salt water and dried kelp blew toward us on the breeze, and from under Fisherman’s Wharf away on our right, a couple of sea lions barked at each other,
orp-orp-orp
.

“Here’s how I see it,” Kaz said at last.

Oh, good. This was what I needed: my friend, with whom I’d talked everything out since grade school.

“First of all, you’re both sisters in Christ. You’ve got to make things right with Gillian before anything else.”

“I will,” I promised fervently. “I can’t stand it that she’s hurting and I made it worse.”

“Second of all, you can pray about it together, then pray for Vanessa together.”

“But there has to be more than prayer. It’s wrong to leave someone to the wolves if it’s in your power to help.”

“Sure, it is,” he said with quiet patience. “But Gillian obviously thinks Vanessa can handle the wolves. It’s you she wants to keep out of their way. You can show her your way works and let that speak for itself. No more fighting about it.”

“I’m glad you think being kind and being a friend will work.” My emotions had been up and down like a cable-car ride this morning. I was feeling touchy and raw.

“I think it’s part of who you are to try, Lissa. Whether it works is up to God and Vanessa. But I wouldn’t want you to stop trying.”

Abruptly, tears threatened again. “So you support me? Even if Gillian thinks you’re hot?” Oh no,
that
wasn’t what I’d meant to say.

He slung an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You know I support you in spirit. It’s just that sometimes…” His voice trailed off.

“What?”

He glanced at me. “I don’t think I can come to that Cotillion gig with you. Not the way things stand.”

My mouth opened and hung there, empty of words. That wasn’t just a swerve. That was a hairpin turn with a dizzying drop off a cliff.

“I’d come if you wanted me there for
me
. Not if it’s just convenient to have a friend to call so you don’t have to mess with the social scene at Spencer and challenge Vanessa again. No.” He held up a hand, cutting off my protest. “It wasn’t Gillian who said that. I may be just a guy, but I can figure some stuff out on my own.”

“That’s not why! I asked you because you’re my best friend.”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t come.” He stood and waved, and when I finally thought to move and look in that direction, the others had joined him.

Weren’t we all just having a wonderful time?

I
NEEDED TO DO
one thing before this day got any older. I went up to Gillian, pulled her away from the others, and gave her a big hug.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such a
mo guai nuer
all week. Please forgive me.”

Her body, which had been stiff with tension and resistance, wilted and she hugged me back. “Me, too. I’ve been horrible to you all day. I feel like garbage, but that’s no excuse.”

“Kaz told me. Why didn’t you say something?” She pulled back, and in her eyes I saw the answer. “Never mind. How could you talk to a snowbank?” I asked rhetorically. “When did it happen?”

“Yesterday after lunch. I felt awful. His face…” Her own crumpled at the memory, and I fished in my bag for a tissue. “Thanks.”

“But he understood, didn’t he? Are you guys still friends? Or is that too much to hope for?”

“I don’t know. On all counts.”

“But he’d pick up if you called him, right?” That was always a good indication that there was hope.

“I haven’t had the guts to try. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I left my phone in the dorm.”

I hugged her again, and we turned back to the others. “You guys okay?” Kaz eyed us both with honest concern. It was enough to make a person want to hug him, too.

“Yes,” Gillian told him.

“I’m sorry about Jeremy.” Shani gave her a hug. “Kaz just told us. That totally blows, but you had your reasons.”

Gillian nodded. “You guys, this weekend isn’t about me and my lousy timing. It’s about Kaz and his book. Can we not talk about it and just have fun?”

The vote was unanimous. “Who’s for renting a sailboat and taking it out on the Bay?” Kaz asked.

“Only if you steer,” Danyel told him. “I wasn’t born in deck shoes like some people.”

The rest of the afternoon was a breezy blur of sails and sunshine and laughter. I remembered enough from last year’s sailing class to help Kaz with the sheets and canvas, and every time he hollered “Jibe!” I made sure everyone’s heads were down by the time the boom swung over to change our direction.

Sailing is just enough work to keep you alert and active while leaving your brain free to think. And I needed to think, now that Gillian and I were okay. I needed to figure out what part about being my date to Cotillion had bugged Kaz so badly that he didn’t want to come.

Was I going to have to pin him down and ask him to tell me point-blank what he was thinking? Because clearly I wasn’t very good at reading the signs. Did he want to take our friendship to another level—to boldly go where neither of us had been before? Or did he simply not like being taken for granted and had gotten himself in a snit about it?

Argh. Boys.

After returning the boat—none the worse for wear, thankfully—to the marina, we went out to dinner at a steak place Danyel wanted to try, and then zipped back uptown to the nine o’clock showing of the new Johnny Depp movie. I was happy to see that the star was taking time off from big pre-sold franchises and going back to his quirky, indie-house roots.

All of which meant, of course, that there wasn’t a single moment to talk privately with Kaz.

Sunday morning we all went to Sol and Malika’s church with them—a totally fun experience where the singing and worship were like a shout to the Lord. Very different from the clapboard church out in Marin where Gillian and I usually went, even though my dad wasn’t renting the house out there anymore. We still liked it.

And then suddenly we were all saying good-bye, and I was no closer to getting to the heart of Kaz’s problem than I had been on the grass at the marina. We stood on the curb outside Sol and Malika’s house, waving as Danyel’s truck disappeared around the corner. I lowered my arm with a distinct feeling of anticlimax and loss. I’d missed my chance to do this live, so now I’d have to do it over the phone or over e-mail, both of which presented a problem: it was way too easy to misunderstand someone or take what they said the wrong way. Not that I wasn’t good at doing that in person, too, as Gillian could attest.

We said our good-byes to Danyel’s sister and her family, and before long the three of us were climbing the stairs to the dorm wing.

“I’ma go see how far Carly got on the dress,” Shani said. “See you guys at supper.” The click of her Sunday heels receded up the staircase.

In our room, Gillian scrabbled in her desk for her phone. I didn’t really want to talk about Kaz with anyone but him, and besides, it looked as if she had other things on her mind. Maybe I’d go for a walk and let the breeze blow a clear direction into my head.

I changed into more comfortable shoes and strolled across the playing field, in maiden meditation fancy-free.

“Lissa!”

Or not. I turned to see Derrik, in jeans and his soccer jersey, jogging across the grass toward me. I realized belatedly that they’d probably played early this afternoon.

“Hey, Derrik. How’d you do?”

“Creamed ’em five to two. We played Collyer Academy. I thought you might have watched.”

“Sorry. We had friends in from out of town and went to church with them.”

He fell into step beside me, his stocky athlete’s form giving me the next best thing to a sunshade. I’d forgotten to put on sunblock anyway. “You look nice.”

Whoa.
Danger, danger, Will Robinson.
“Thanks. I haven’t changed from church yet. I guess you have to miss worship when you play, huh?”

“Depends on the schedule. Today I did. Next week should be okay. Where do you go?” I told him, and his eyebrows rose. “All the way out there?”

“We like it. We know the people and I love the pastor. Solid teaching is what I need, and that guy delivers.”

Silence fell, and I wondered if he planned to go all the way around the block with me. I hoped not. How was I supposed to figure out the Kaz situation with Derrik doing his looming thing on my left?