twenty-two
“NOT BLOODY LIKELY.”
“Hmm. Try it on the last two words,” Molly suggested.
“Not bloody likely.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Molly affirmed. “You’re going to be funny.”
“I hope so. It’s only the most iconic line from the play.”
Brooke reapplied her lip gloss one last time as Molly parked in her usual spot. It had been mere hours since their denouement, but so far, getting along had exceeded Brooke’s expectations—she definitely preferred a compliment as she arrived at school to getting her hair stuck in the window because Molly closed it so fast.
Max caught sight of them as they climbed out of the Lexus.
“Hey!” she called out. “Is it World War III or can I put away my flak helmet?”
“Hello there, Maxwell,” Brooke said, flashing her most charming smile and nodding at Max’s hair. “I see your science fair project is really coming along.”
“Almost as well as your lobotomy,” Max retorted with equal sweetness. Then she turned to Molly. “I can’t believe you missed rehearsal yesterday. Jake Donovan tweeted afterward that it felt like being poked with something pointy and sharp—that’s got to be about Jennifer, right? Pointy, sharp? Like her face?”
“Jennifer is my friend,” Brooke defended her.
Max looked guilty. Not very guilty, but enough.
“It’s okay,” Brooke shrugged. “I told her to do something about those teeth. A true friend never lies about dental needs.”
“There was this one part that was so funny. Jake said—”
“Brooke!” Jennifer shrieked from afar, grabbing Jake and dragging him across the lawn toward them. “Oh, my God. I cannot deal with these actors by myself. Julie Newman’s British accent suddenly sounds Russian, and Jake here told me to shut up when I explained to him that Freddy Eynsford-Hill has an iPhone, but in his mind.”
“Well, I don’t care what your acting coach says,” Jake frowned. “That sounds kind of dumb.”
“Because it is,” said Max.
“See?” Jake said. “Thank you, Mary.”
Max started showing great interest in the concrete beneath her feet.
“You’re welcome,” she muttered, grabbing Molly by the sleeve and tugging her away.
Brooke flipped Molly a light wave, then corralled Jennifer and Jake and headed toward the main building. Groups of students watched her with interest, tangibly tinged with fear, as if they expected her to explode and couldn’t decide if it was more satisfying to stay away from the fray, or get close enough to it so they could captivate people with a war story later.
“The buzz around school is mixed,” Jennifer announced as they walked. “Some people are enjoying this, some feel sorry for you, and a few are afraid this is only going to make you stronger.”
“Well, I think you’re brave as hell, Brooke,” Jake said, clapping her on the back. “Showing your face after that…”
“Jake,” Jennifer gasped.
“What? I just meant, she’s clearly been through a lot,” Jake said, with a shrug. “Man, I’m outta here. You are so not getting a foot rub today.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Brooke called after him.
Jennifer smacked her.
“What?” Brooke protested. “He’s right. I am brave. In fact, this gives me an idea.”
She pushed open the doors to the school. As soon as people saw her, the congenial din of student gossip tapered off into an uncomfortable silence.
“… we were working on polymers and I missed you,” Arugula was saying to Teddy McCormack with a flirty pout. When she noticed her voice was carrying over the quiet hallway, she clammed up and sauntered over to her friend.
“She’s at her locker,” Ari whispered.
Head held high, Brooke smiled warmly at everyone as she cruised down toward door 131. She’d promised Molly she wouldn’t start anything, but surely a tiny little conversation didn’t count.
“Shelby,” she cooed.
Shelby’s back straightened, and she withdrew from her locker with a copy of Crime and Punishment in her claws. Brooke, aware that every eye in school was on her, walked right up and threw her arms around her enemy.
“Oh, Shelby, thank you!” she said at performance volume. “You’ve helped me see I don’t have to be so damn brave all the time anymore.”
Brooke pulled away and was intensely satisfied to see utter shock on Shelby’s face.
“All that private pain made me so tired inside! Now, hopefully, others will be inspired to share their struggles with adolescence in this cold, confusing world,” Brooke finished. “I’m honored you chose me to carry this torch, Shelby. I hope to do us all proud.”
Dead silence.
Suddenly, Jake started a slow clap. Arugula and Jennifer joined in, and eventually—straight out of one of those terrible teen movies that are also secretly awesome—the entire hallway was cheering. Brooke beamed.
“Well played.” Ari grinned as Shelby slammed her locker and shoved her way down the hall.
“I know,” Brooke said out of the corner of her mouth, waving at her admirers.
“I kind of miss being at war with Brooke,” Max said over her plate of nachos.
“I don’t,” Teddy said, not looking up from his copy of The New Yorker.
“I don’t, either,” Molly agreed, glancing across the quad to Brooke’s lunch table, where her half sister and Arugula appeared to be taking a quiz in Cosmo. Brooke glanced up and jiggled the magazine in greeting; Arugula took in the sight of Teddy sitting at Molly’s table again, and narrowed her eyes. Molly felt aggravated and slightly possessive at once.
“I just felt so alive then,” Max continued, oblivious. “Remember when I came up with that idea to hire a skywriter to write a bad review of the play?”
“With what money?” Teddy asked, turning a page.
“That idea was a little extreme,” Molly said.
“Extremely awesome.” Max sighed mournfully.
Mavis Moore stood in front of her holding a giant Slurpee and an envelope.
“Somebody left this for you at the office,” she said. “Headmistress McCormack caught me dissecting an earthworm on the soccer field and made me bring it to you to keep my hands busy.”
“I… thank you,” Molly said. “I’m sure the earthworms thank you, too.”
Mavis shrugged. “They haven’t said anything,” she said, wandering away.
“That girl is delightful,” Max said. “Okay, you need to open that thing right now, because I am dying of curiosity, and so is half the quad.”
Suddenly, Molly felt the heat of eyes on her—not her classmates’, but Teddy’s. It unsettled her, this hyperawareness of him sitting next to her, watching her intently. Molly opened the envelope.
“It’s a mash note,” she said incredulously.
“Wow, Danny writes love letters?” Max said. “Smooth.”
“No, I mean, it’s an actual MASH game,” Molly said. “Danny first asked me out after he found one that I did where we ended up married with kids. I even didn’t know he’d kept it.”
It was as if he’d been listening to her conversation with Teddy.
“So what’s the Slurpee in aid of?” Teddy asked casually.
“My mom really loved them, and when we were in fourth grade, I spilled one on Danny at recess and ran off crying,” Molly said, genuinely touched, and inexplicably having trouble meeting Teddy’s gaze.
“I didn’t know people could get Slurpees delivered,” Max said. “Bravo, Danny.”
“That’s really sweet of him,” Teddy said, and Molly could tell he meant it. “Danny sounds like a great guy.” He swallowed hard. “I’d better bail—I’m late for practice.”
Teddy got up without a backward glance and strode past the fountain. He waved at Arugula, who flashed him her brightest smile and then turned toward Molly with a glint in her eye, as if throwing down a gauntlet in a game Molly hadn’t realized she was playing.
“Helloooo?”
“What?” Molly snapped back into the moment.
“You totally zoned out there,” Max said. “I was asking you if Danny always makes grand romantic gestures, or only when you’re away.”
Molly didn’t quite feel like opening up to Max about Danny, or how she didn’t understand why Teddy witnessing Danny’s supersized gesture bothered her so much. Or how she maybe did understand, because she might’ve been okay with Teddy grabbing her hand at the Getty the other day. And how confusing it was when her semiboyfriend couldn’t navigate the three-hour time change for a real conversation, yet was thoughtful enough to hang on to an old game of chance telling him that he and Molly someday would get married, live in Minsk, be astronauts, and drive a Pinto.
Instead, she said, “We try to talk whenever we can.”
“Well, that’s nice,” Max said. “Jeez, happy couples are boring, too.”
“Then look who just got interesting.”
Molly—happy for the distraction—pointed toward Brooke’s table, where Jennifer Parker was sticking an angry finger in Jake’s bright-red face.
“An hour ago, Jake’s status update said he was ‘over it,’ ” Max said, as if she’d been waiting for an excuse to share that little tidbit. “Maybe ‘it’ is Jennifer. She is definitely at least part creature.”
“And they definitely seem miserable,” Molly said.
“What if they break up?” Max said in a hushed tone. “Will I have to start believing in God?”
“No, but you might have to grow a pair and tell Jake your actual name.”
“Oh, leave me alone,” Max said, cheerfully. “We don’t all luck out and fall in love with the boy next door. Or even with a boy who would recognize us if we ran into him at the mall.”
Molly picked at her lunch. “Yeah. I lucked out,” she echoed, and tried not to wonder why she suddenly felt so guilty.
As Brooke rummaged for her production binder, Emily Matsuhisa jogged over to help keep everything else from tumbling out of her locker. The gesture itself was unremarkable in its quick simplicity, except that it was part of an unprecedented outpouring of support that had started after Brooke’s big show with Shelby that morning. Brie reported that the entire sophomore class now saw Brooke as some kind of hero of the people, Bone Johnson from Mental Hygienist had announced plans to write her a song called “Girl (I Hate Your Mother),” and a tearful Perkins had patted her head for about ten seconds during history—which would’ve been fine if the teacher hadn’t just eaten a bag of Cheetos, forcing Brooke to miss the first ten minutes of English because she had to wash fluorescent cheese dust out of her hair.
“I still can’t believe you hugged her.”
Brooke turned to smile at Molly.
“It’s your fault,” she said. “I got the idea from you. The rest was off something Jake said.”
“Maybe now Jennifer will be nicer to him,” Molly said. “According to Max, she put something on Twitter about how football players have cement for brains.”
“Speaking of dumb.” Brooke sighed. “No argument you can have in a hundred forty characters or less is an argument worth having.” She slammed her locker door. “Let’s get to the theater. Apparently, Bert finally learned his lines, but he also learned everyone else’s and now he can’t stop mouthing along.”
They headed off, past the lockers and the science labs, where Teddy happened to glance through the giant window into the hallway. He and Molly exchanged waves while Arugula made an aggrieved face.
“Looks like you’re giving Ari a run for her money.” Brooke smirked at Molly as they burst out onto the unusually cloudy quad.
“We’re just friends.”
“So were Ross and Rachel,” Brooke said. “And Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf, and…”
“Brick Berlin and Ms. Beer o’Clock?” Molly offered.
“I blame that one on your drinking problem,” Brooke said, grinning. “Anyway, he may say you’re friends, but friends don’t look like they want to vomit when their other friends’ boyfriends send them Slurpees.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Right,” Brooke said knowingly.
She pushed her way into the dark, cool interior of the Brick Berlin Theater for Serious Emotional Artistry and down to the stage. The Henry Higgins library set looked great, if a tad historically inaccurate—too many copies of People on his desk—and the costumes, on the backs of cast members posing for continuity Polaroids with Brie, looked downright professional. Brooke flinched a bit from residual guilt, knowing how hard Molly had pushed to finish them.
Bert Saks sidled up to them. “Hey, um, Brooke, the vending machine gave me two Diet Cokes,” he stammered. “I thought you might… you know.”
He handed her one.
“Thanks, Bert,” she said. “That is really nice of you.”
His face turned as purple as a bruise as he backed away, nodding.
“Brooke, will you help me with my accent?” Julie called out. “Yours is really good, and I could use the advice.”
“Damn, I should leak embarrassing personal stuff more often,” Brooke murmured to Molly.
“Being a mere mortal isn’t so bad, huh?” Molly grinned in response.
“Sure, Julie,” Brooke called out to her Mrs. Eynsford-Hill. “But first…”
She propelled Molly onto the stage. Wary looks dropped onto everyone’s faces, like they’d just seen a skunk wander onstage and start romancing the furniture.
Wow, they really were afraid of me. Brooke knew she should feel chagrined, but she couldn’t help thinking that the efficiency of her iron fist was a little bit spectacular. Today, though, she needed to put it on hold.
“You guys look fantastic,” she said. “Bert, that tweed rocks on you, and Neil, your monocle is totally dramatic. Let’s all take a second to thank Molly for working so hard to get these costumes perfect.”
Scattered applause built into an ovation once the cast realized Brooke wasn’t kidding.
“Thanks,” Molly said, seeming genuinely touched. “Although it turns out you’re a genius about chins,” she whispered to Brooke as the others exploded into happy chatter. “I can’t find a hat that doesn’t create problems for Julie Newman. I might just put her in a kerchief and call it a day.”
Brooke giggled and hopped offstage, dumping her purse in the chair next to Brie. Her mood was lighter than the carrot soufflé she’d passed on at dinner yesterday. Last night, all she’d wanted was revenge on Shelby, but now that seemed pretty inconsequential. Molly might even have been right about leaving well enough alone.
Max burst in suddenly. “Um, Brooke?” she said urgently. “Did you… Shelby Kendall is outside with a tow truck, and she’s furious and ranting about calling the cops. I guess her car is all jacked up?”
The cast stopped talking again. Molly put a hand on her hip and raised an aggravated eyebrow at Brooke.
“Not me,” Brooke avowed. “I swear. On the grave of last season’s Phillip Lim.”
“I need better,” Molly said.
“On the grave of Shelby’s old face?”
Molly’s face cracked into a grin. “I believe you,” she said. “But then… what happened?”
“Maybe her car just got jacked up. These things do happen,” Brooke said. But in her periphery, she noticed Brie slowly turning pink, tapping her pen against her clipboard with increasing speed and staring fixedly into the distance.
“Brie,” Brooke said, turning to her. “You have no poker face.”
Brie winced, then dragged her backpack along the floor until it was at her feet. Unzipping it, she opened it to reveal a grimy car battery. Molly clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I got the idea from The Sound of Music,” Brie said apologetically. “I don’t know. If it’s good enough for nuns…”
“Oh, my God, you are my new favorite person.” Max chortled.
Brooke bit her lip. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” she said. “Nobody in here saw it, did they?”
She looked around. Anyone who’d been eavesdropping immediately looked the other way. Neil Westerberg started whistling idly at the ceiling.
“Hey, Brooke,” Jake called out with a grin. “What’s that random, unclaimed bag doing sitting on the floor? I don’t think it belongs to anyone. I should probably throw that out, right?”
“He rules,” breathed Max, who then turned crimson, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Yes, absolutely, Jake,” Brooke said. “Dispose of it. Unattended baggage can be dangerous. I learned that at the airport.”
“Oh, snap, you can totally see her from the costume room!” shouted Julie Newman.
Everyone ran back to the picture window that faced the parking lot. In the distance, Shelby Kendall was red with irritation as a tow truck driver loaded her Mercedes onto the flatbed. Gallantly, he opened the passenger door to his truck. Shelby shot him a look of purest poison before fishing a Wet-Nap out of her purse and wiping down the seat, then trying to wriggle up onto it without her Herve Leger micromini riding up over her nether regions. In the process, Shelby’s ankle turned roughly in her four-inch heels, and she appeared to shout something very foul indeed.
“I’m sorry,” Brie whispered. “Did I make it worse?”
Brooke opened her mouth to answer.
“No,” Molly’s voice said firmly. “You made it satisfying.”
“Really?” Brie said, excitedly. “Because I also had an idea that we could—”
Brooke put a hand on her shoulder. “I think, for now, this is enough.”
She met Molly’s eyes and smiled. It was time to move on.