The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth (20 page)

“You would really do that?” Ashley’s tone was returning to its usual warm but businesslike self. No snottiness. No freezing disdain. “Turn a guy like Derrik down for the sake of school?”

“Not school. I don’t want to stab you in the back. Don’t get me wrong—Derrik is the nicest guy, and if circumstances were different, I’d probably tell him yes. But you and I were friends first, and I meant it when I said I wasn’t into him that way.”

She gazed at me. “You are so mature.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “I wouldn’t call it that. So… when I talk to him, do you want me to tell him you’d go with him?”

Color seeped into her face. “I’m not going to beg for a date. If he doesn’t see me, he doesn’t, that’s all. I can still ask him to dance even if he does take someone else.”

An idea brushed through my brain. “When’s his next game?”

“Tuesday at four, at home,” she said without even a glance at her planner.

“Tell you what. Let’s go watch it together. You be your normal cheering self, and I’ll make myself invisible. You know how guys are. He’s going to notice the girl cheering for him, not the one doing her history homework.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Come on. Your friends are probably thinking we’ve killed each other in a cat fight.”

“Don’t worry about them.” She opened the door and motioned for me to precede her. “You know what? I skipped dessert. Think there’s any of that ganache left?”

The improvements to my diet would have to wait until tomorrow. “Let’s go find out.”

Chocolate: The glue that holds women together. It was nice to know there were things in this world you could still count on.

ON TUESDAY NIGHT
at prayer circle, Gillian nudged me and leaned close. “What’s up with Carly?”

I dragged my attention from what I needed to say to Derrik Vaughan, who had just taken a seat two people away from me, and focused. Good question. Across our circle, Carly’s head was bowed, as if she were getting her spirit together before praying. But was it the overhead lighting that cast those dark circles under her eyes, or something more serious?

“She’s been putting in a lot of hours on the dress,” I whispered back. “She even got a night pass from the dean to work after lights-out.”

“There’s more to it than a few late nights,” Gillian said. “Notice who’s still not sitting beside her.”

Brett had not come in with Carly, nor with Derrik. Had it only been a week since he’d shown interest in becoming a Christian? How toxic a week had it been: Carly and Brett weren’t talking, Gillian and Jeremy had broken up, and Kaz had turned me down. All I needed to hear now was that Shani and Danyel were fighting, or that Alasdair had gone to join the Foreign Legion instead of getting a summer job in Inniscairn to be close to Mac.

Don’t let that happen
. I’m not superstitious, but I knocked on the wood of my chair just to cover all the bases.

After we’d all lifted each other up to God—Carly’s voice only wobbled once, when she said Brett’s name—and had sung the final praise song, I made up my mind. As people picked up handbags and backpacks on the way out the door, I made my way to her side.

“Sweetie, are you okay?”

“Yes.” I could hardly hear her as she fussed with the clasp of her bag.

“Are you putting in a lot of hours on the dress?”

She nodded. “I’m leaving Thursday after school, and everything’s done but the petal hem. I decided to put in an underlayer of silk chiffon so the skirt would split and it would look like a new flower unfurling with every step she takes up the aisle. But every time you make a design change, it means another muslin and more work.”

“Do you need help? I’m pretty good at picking up pins.”

At last, there was the Carly smile. “It’s okay. I have a couple of sophomore minions who do that for extra credit. Technically I’m tutoring them in design, but it amounts to pin-picking a lot of the time. Or pressing seams. Or basting.”

“Is it only the dress that’s giving you the Vuittons under your eyes?”

“Does it show?” she asked plaintively. “So much for my new concealer.”

“Only to people who know you. Gillian caught it first. And Shani’s looking pretty worried, too.”

Everyone had left the room, including Shani and Gillian, who’d telegraphed “Update us later” on their way out the door.

“At least Shani still has Danyel—” Her face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes.

I pulled her down into one of the chairs by the piano. “It’s Brett, isn’t it? What is up with that guy?”

“He can’t get over me choosing FIDM over him.”

I handed her a tissue from the new packet in my bag. With the week we’d had, I’d thought it best to stock up.

“Nothing I say makes any difference,” she said through the tissue, and blew her nose.

“Would it help if I talked to him?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“I can’t stand to see you this way. The two of you belong together, like chips and salsa. Meatballs and tomato sauce.”

“Who’s the meatball?” came muffled through the tissue.

I took heart. “Him, of course. Anyone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on is a total meatball.”

She mopped her eyes and I got half a smile for my efforts. “If you want to talk to him, I guess it couldn’t hurt. He’s pretty private, though. He might think you’re butting into his business.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice at that lately.”

“What, with Gillian?”

“No. Vanessa. She’s not going to have an abortion. That’s something.”

“So you’re still friends with her?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. But she needs to talk without being gossiped about or judged, and I’m there.”

Carly was silent for a moment. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Jesus said we should love and forgive. He was the guy reaching out to the tax collectors and that woman by the well at Samaria. People talked trash about them, and whispered about Him for doing it, but He still did it.” She glanced at me. “People are whispering about you, too, but that’s not stopping you. I think that’s good.”

“Let them. It’s not the first time. And not doing what I think is right because I’m afraid of people talking is too junior high.” I reached around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “If you can forgive your mom for doing what she thinks is right for her, then Brett can man up and forgive you for doing what you think is right for you.”

Carly’s brown gaze met mine. “That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? We’re all trying to do the right thing, and people get aggravated by it.”

“I think Gillian sees my point of view, at least, and it’s just her protectiveness talking most of the time.” I got up. “Brett will come around. I’m going to find him right now, before I lose my nerve.”

“You’ll tell me after, right?”

I nodded. “Keep an ear out for your phone, in case I get back too close to lights-out.”

I stepped into the corridor, and out of the corner of my eye, a big shadow moved behind the door. A second later I was glad I’d choked back a girly scream because it was only Derrik.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you, Obi-Wan.”

I laughed and felt my heart settle back into its normal rhythm. Carly slipped out the door and headed toward the Life Sciences wing as Derrik fell into step beside me.

“You didn’t go for coffee with the others?” I asked, and then wished I’d said something more intelligent.

“I just wondered if you’d made up your mind about Cotillion, that’s all. You said a couple of days.”

So I had. If last week was Toxic Week, this was shaping up to be Fallout Week. “I have made up my mind. I would have loved to go with you—” He began to smile, and I finished in a hurry. “But I can’t.”

“Oh.” His brows knit in a frown. “Did someone else ask you?”

Meaning did I get a better offer. I couldn’t let him think that. “There isn’t anyone in this school I’d rather go with than you. But… can I be totally honest with you?”

“I hope so. Being as we pray together and all.” His gaze on mine was so level and grounded that I wished once more my answer could be different. But I was done grasping at people to help me get what I wanted. I could stand on my own two feet.

Even if it meant standing all by myself.

“The truth is, there’s more to this than a date to Cotillion. Someone out there really likes you, and if I go with you, I’ll have broken my word to her. See, I told her I wouldn’t.”

“You did.” He eyed me. “You told some random girl, and you made me wait until now for the same answer?”

Oh, dear. “Derrik, please don’t be mad. I didn’t know for sure how upset she’d be if I said yes. But I know now. So that’s what my answer has to be.”

“I don’t get you,” he said gruffly. “Since when do you have to get permission from other people for a date?”

Obviously the whole “be loyal to your friends” angle was lost on him. Maybe he was one of those guys who wanted the facts, not the truth. So I played that card. “Besides the fact that she’s my friend, I need her help on a project for one of my classes. If I don’t get her help, I won’t pass.”

“This is really about a grade?” He sounded astonished.

I let him think so. “The grade is the end result of a long chain of events. And it all starts with you.”

He thought for a minute; then his scowly expression brightened. “Guess I’m really important to you, then, huh?”

“Let’s put it this way: I can’t have a positive without you being the negative.”

“So who’s this certain someone?”

“I can’t tell you. But if you keep your eyes open, I know you’ll notice her.”

“So someone likes me so much they’d blackmail you to get me?” He sounded pleased about this. I’d be creeped out, but I guess you have to take your compliments where you find them. Guys. Honestly.

“Not blackmail. But the possibility of failure is working just as well for me. I really want that grade, and two other people are depending on it, too.”

“It’s nice to know it’s not me,” he said.

“It’s definitely not you,” I assured him. “In an alternate universe, I would totally have gone with you.”

“We can be friends, though, right? That certain someone won’t have a problem with that?”

“I don’t think so. And we’re more than friends, Derrik. In God’s eyes, you’re my brother.”

“I hope you don’t mind having one dance with your brother, then.” He slung an arm around my shoulders, surprising me for the second time, and gave me a squeeze. “Who was that girl sitting next to you at the game today? The one who went crazy when I made that big save?”

I kept a straight face and resisted the urge to punch at the sky and yell
Yes!
“The blonde? Or the Goth chick chewing on garlic tablets on my other side?”

“Uh. The blonde.”

“Oh, that’s Ashley Polk. She’s, like, my right-hand girl for the Cotillion. Very together. Totally smart. Big soccer fan.”

“Ashley Polk. Huh.” We’d reached the stairs to the dorms. “See you tomorrow, Lissa. And thanks.”

“For what?”

“Being honest. Not many girls in this school would skip the mind games and just lay it out like that.”

I just smiled, gave him a wave, and headed toward the front doors. Honest, huh? Well, Derrik didn’t know it, but he’d been my warm-up act in that department.

Because now it was time to talk to Brett Loyola. Time to set the honesty for stun.

M
RS. LOYOLA IS
one of the nicest women I know—the kind who makes sure there’s a plate of cookies lying around when her son’s friends come over, or the kind who gives you a bed and some breakfast when you need them (which I know from two personal experiences). She ushered me into what used to be the parlor when this house was first built in Edwardian times, but which was now a TV and Wii room.

I thought she’d go holler at Brett and tell him he had company, but instead she hesitated as I took her invitation to sit on the squashy leather couch. “Lissa, is it—I mean, do you know what—” She stopped and took a breath. “Is Carly all right?”

Honesty time.

“That’s why I’m here. Brett won’t let her talk to him, so I came to see if I could help.”

A long breath rushed from her. “You girls. I’m so glad she has friends like you. Brett hasn’t been himself and I know he’s miserable, but he won’t talk to me, either. It’s so frustrating because since he met Carly, our relationship has been much better. It’s like going back to square one from a year ago.”

She gazed at me as though one little conversation would solve all her problems. That was a pretty heavy burden for me to carry.

“He might not talk to me, either, Mrs. L.”

“Tell you what. He doesn’t know you’re here, because he and Tate DeLeon had World War Three going in his room. Tate left a few minutes ago, so he’s not expecting anyone. Why don’t you go up and surprise him? If I try to get him to come down here, he’ll refuse and probably duck out the back.”

“Deal. If I don’t come out in half an hour, send in re-inforcements.”

I climbed the stairs to his third-floor room. The door shook in its frame from the force of the video-game explosions on the other side, amped up to truly belligerent proportions by a massive sound system.