Inside Girl Page 12

  “Well, ask me, then.”

  For a second, I felt tongue-tied, but I knew that if I just stood there like an idiot, staring at him, I’d just feel even more stupid. So I blurted it out as fast as I could: “I’m having a party on Friday, and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

  “Huh. Well, Friday … yeah, Friday, I think …” Bennett’s voice was all hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he could be bothered, and it annoyed me a little. Didn’t he know how hard this was for me?

  I took the invitation out of my backpack and handed it to him. “All the information’s on here.”

  “Cool.” Bennett folded the invitation and put it into his pocket. But something was still wrong. Maybe he wasn’t trying to act cool after all. He had this weird look on his face like he was nervous but didn’t want to show it. “Well, I’ll see if I can make it. Have a nice afternoon.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep up with him. He was walking really fast all of a sudden, as if he was trying to get away from me.

  “Listen, I don’t want your pity, okay?” he said, gazing out at the taxis passing us on the street. “If you like me, then like me—but if you feel sorry for me, with my lame-o parties and my dumb comic books—”

  “Bennett, what are you talking about?”

  “Listen, I’m not stupid, okay?” He kicked a little rock with his sneaker. “If I’d known you were the queen of the scene, I wouldn’t have tried to impress you with such a stupid little party.”

  I blinked. “You threw that party—to make me like you?”

  “Well, you had such a good time at Devon’s … I just thought … Oh, forget it.” Bennett jammed his hands in his pockets. He tried to say something, but a bus roaring by drowned out his words, and he waved his hand like it didn’t matter anyway. But before he could start walking again, I grabbed on to his sleeve.

  “Listen,” I told him, “I loved the party you threw. It was the best.”

  “Yeah right.” He snorted. “I’ve heard about parties at the Flood house. Celebrities, bottles of Cristal, all kinds of awesome crazy stuff. I’m not sure drinking ginger ale on my couch really lives up to all that.”

  I’d never felt more exasperated in my life. “Bennett, those are my brother’s parties you’ve heard about. I’ve never even had a party with boys at it before.”

  He squinted at me like he wasn’t sure whether to trust me or not. “Really?”

  “Yeah. And I’m sorry if it’s disappointing or whatever, but I’m only inviting, like, ten people to the one on Friday.”

  A pair of girls in dance leotards walked toward us, and Bennett stepped to my side of the sidewalk to let them pass. When they were gone, he asked, “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like all that over-the-top stuff. I just want to spend time with … with the people I really care about.”

  Bennett half-smiled, showing his chipped front tooth, and we started walking together again.

  “How’s everything with the school paper?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s not very exciting. You don’t want to hear about that.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Huh.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Well, I guess there was a big stink about the gossip column this week. We printed something about how Principal Leland’s been going out with the girls’ volleyball coach.”

  “Principal Leland?” I laughed. “But that guy’s so old and creepy!”

  “That’s what the volleyball coach said too. She was pretty mad—called it slander. And Principal Leland was like, ‘Oh, give them some allowances, they’re just children,’ but you could tell he loved reading that he was hooking up with this athletic younger chick.” Bennett shook his head. “Man, oh man.”

  “That’s so funny, Bennett,” I told him.

  “Yeah, I guess the paper can be pretty entertaining. I dunno, for us dorks who work on it anyway.”

  “Stop saying that. You’re not a dork.”

  And then something wonderful happened. We were stepping off the curb, over a puddle, when out of nowhere, a taxi went whizzing by. Bennett grabbed my hand to pull me back, without even thinking about it, and all of a sudden, there we were—holding hands right there in the street, where anyone could see us. Just like boyfriend and girlfriend. I felt terrific, like jumping and skipping and running around in circles, like nothing could make my day get any better. But then it did get even better, because Bennett went on holding my hand all the rest of the way home.

  Chapter 26

  Ice Cream and Sympathy

  As soon as I was back inside the house, I called Liesel. Things had gone better with Bennett than I ever could have expected, so I didn’t see any reason to quit while I was ahead. She picked up on the fourth ring.

  “Liesel? It’s Flan.”

  “Who?” she shouted.

  “Flan Flood!” I yelled back. It sounded like she was in a wind tunnel or something. “I really need to talk to you.”

  “I’m really rather busy, Flan.”

  “Please? It’s important.”

  There was a long pause like she didn’t know if she wanted to hang up on me or not. But she finally said, “Meet me at Serendipity in half an hour—I don’t have time to go all the way downtown!”

  And so, five minutes after coming home from school feeling content and optimistic, I was in a cab on my way to the Upper East Side, feeling worried and nervous again. I just hoped Liesel wouldn’t hold a grudge.

  Serendipity is one of the cutest places in New York, with Tiffany lamps, pink walls, and little white twotop tables that look like something from a doll’s house. The food is even cute, with entrees like the Shake, Batter, and Bowl and the Madame Butterfly, and they sell all kinds of stuff in the front of the store—lunch boxes and windup toys and packages of chocolate—so it almost looks like a toy shop from the street. It’s every little girl’s favorite restaurant (and probably a lot of little boys’ too, even though they’d never admit it).

  It’s also a great place for celebrity spotting—the last time I was there, Gwyneth Paltrow was eating lunch with her two kids—which is probably how Liesel knew about it in the first place. Also, it’s on Sixtieth near Bloomingdale’s, her parents’ part of town, where the streets are wide and clean, the dogs have beauty shops, and the old women start wearing their fur coats with the first cool breeze of autumn.

  As soon as we walked in, I spotted Liesel sitting at a table in the corner, wearing Dolce sunglasses and a dove-gray strapless dress made of some luxurious material. She was talking to the waiter. As soon as she saw me, she waved me over to the table and ordered me a frozen hot chocolate, this really delicious drink they have there. Then she looked across the table intently. Her hair was up in this twist that looked very chic but also kind of severe, and for a second I thought she was about to yell at me. Then she sighed and shook her head.

  “Flan, Flan, Flan. What are you going to do?” she asked, unfolding her napkin and setting it on her lap.

  “I don’t know.” I looked down at my place mat. “I was hoping that maybe if I talked to you—”

  “No, not about me. About Sara-Beth. She’s still very upset, you know.”

  My stomach churned. “I know.”

  “She trusted you—it’s very hard to earn her trust—and you completely let her down.” Liesel held up one hand like she was stopping traffic. “I know Sara-Beth can be difficult at times, but she’s also very vulnerable. She never had a real childhood, you know. Did you see that piece in the Times?”

  “Yeah.” I looked over at one of the Tiffany lamps. It had stained-glass birds flying across its shade. I wished I could be free like that. “You know, I didn’t write those mean things about Sara-Beth—I really didn’t. I was writing notes with a couple of friends at school, and—you believe me, don’t you?”

  Liesel sighed. “Of course I do, Flan. But it’s not me you have to convince. You have to show Sara-Beth you’re not ashamed of her—that you really think of her as a frie
nd.”

  I nodded. “Well, I sort of had an idea of how to do it.”

  So I told her about the party: about how I was inviting Bennett and his friends and Meredith and Judith from school, but also SBB, Liesel, and Philippa—about how I wanted to bring my two worlds together at my house, so everybody—family, friends, whatever—would know how special they were to me. When I was done explaining, Liesel had a dazzling smile on her face. She clasped my hands in hers.

  “I should have known you’d come up with the perfect solution. And you’re going to throw the most fabulous party. So fabulous, they’ll be begging on their hands and knees to keep you in their lives. On their hands and knees! And I’m going to plan it for you.”

  “Oh no, Liesel, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do! Flan, this is my specialty, my forte, my gift. And you must never let a girl waste her gift.” She opened her purse and took out a planner. “It’s Saturday, correct?”

  “Uh … Friday.”

  “Hmm, I’ll have to shuffle some things around. But never mind, that’s not important. Who should we get for the entertainment? I have Avril’s number in my cell, but you’ll want someone classier, I would think. How about Leland Brinker? Or Norah Jones? She still owes me a favor or two—”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” I thought of Bennett and how embarrassed he’d been about his own small-time party. If he showed up to find Alanis Morissette playing a concert in my backyard, he’d just start feeling awful all over again. Besides, I didn’t want to blow everyone away—I just wanted to show them I cared. So I shook my head. “I don’t want you to go to all this trouble.”

  “But it’s no trouble! This is what I do.”

  “No, I know, it’s just that …” I tried to think how to put this nicely. “Listen, a party’s a great idea, but I don’t want it to be a big deal. I just want to do something nice and low-key.”

  Liesel looked confused. She shut her purse with a click. “But Flanny darling, why?”

  “I dunno, I can’t explain it. A party with Norah Jones and a million guests and I dunno, paparazzi, would be cool and everything. It just isn’t … me.”

  Liesel bit her perfect mauve lip. I could tell she thought I was completely crazy, and for a second I thought about taking back what I’d just said. But when I stayed silent, she nodded very slowly.

  “All right, fine,” she said. “We’ll do it your way, then.”

  I smiled, then squinted past her at a pink-and-blond figure taking a seat at a nearby table. “Oh my God, is that Reese Witherspoon over there?”

  Liesel snuck a glance over her shoulder, then snapped her fingers at the waiter and hurriedly dropped some bills on the table. “We need to get out of here, darling. I haven’t returned her calls for months.”

  “But—”

  Before I could finish, Liesel rushed me out onto the sidewalk, where she shouldered a family of tourists out of the way and strode across the street. As soon as we started walking at a normal pace again, I asked tentatively, “So, do you think you can still help me with the party? Even though I don’t want Norah Jones to be there?”

  “How can you even ask such a thing? Of course I’ll help you, Flan. In fact, I’ll consider it a special challenge. Like tightrope walking without a net.”

  “That’s awesome. Thanks so much, Liesel.”

  “Don’t thank me! If anything, I should be thanking you. After all, you did rescue me from the clutches of that vile artiste. Thank God he’s almost done with the mural now.” She sniffed. “Besides, I’d do it anyway. You deserve it. Not everyone can throw a good party, even with my help, but you can. You have that je ne sais quoi, you know.”

  “Je ne sais what?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it in yourself, snookums, because it’s there in spades. You’ll go far.”

  “Huh.” I didn’t know quite what she meant, but I took it as a compliment. “Thanks, Liesel.”

  She touched up her lipstick and gave me a smile. “I can’t wait to see you shine on Friday night. This party is just the beginning of the beginning—you just wait, darling.”

  Liesel hailed me a cab, and we air-kissed good-bye. As I rode back through the city, I looked out the windows. Stylish young women walked dogs that matched their purses; cute boys sat on park benches, reading novels or listening to iPods. I saw boutiques and furniture stores and a strange apartment building that looked like a castle, and somehow all of it seemed new and exciting. Maybe Liesel was right—maybe I did have a je ne sais quoi. Maybe things really were going to get better, now that I was being myself.

  I daydreamed about the party, about how things would suddenly seem simple and laid-back and chill once I had all the important people in my life in the same place at the same time. I pictured Bennett and me lounging around on my living room floor, solving algebra problems together, and I imagined Judith and Meredith and me walking uptown to buy prom dresses. None of it seemed half as impossible as it had that morning, and it was all because I’d reached out to my friends. It occurred to me for the first time in a while that this really was what friends were for—to make people feel good, instead of always just cruddy and stressed out. I started to feel like maybe I was figuring things out—like I had things together.

  Chapter 27

  I Heart Soul Mates

  I took the cab almost all the way home before I realized I had at least one more stop to make. So instead of going all the way to Perry Street, I had the driver stop at the corner of Washington and Horatio Street. I got out, paid, then started walking.

  Philippa also lives in a town house in the West Village, like me, but her street is kind of weird—it’s one of those crooked little lanes that sort of loops back on itself, so it wasn’t easy to find her place, even though she’d left me her address and directions the day she moved out of my house. Finally, about the third time I walked up and down the street, I found it. It was this prewar building that I guess they’d redone or something, because it was really pretty, with sad-looking stone lions on either side of the front steps and an old-fashioned wood front door that looked like it should be an entrance to the magic land of Narnia.

  As I walked up to the door, I thought about Philippa and Mickey. I hoped they’d worked things out. I’d seen them at parties and stuff in the past, when they were happy, and they always seemed like the world’s cutest couple to me. Mickey was shorter than Philippa, and sort of round-looking, but he had this contagious sense of humor and craziness to him, and he was always funniest when he was around Philippa, like he was willing to do anything to make her smile. Philippa had more of an intelligent toughness to her, and she tended to be kind of aloof and quiet sometimes. But Mickey brought out a sweeter, more relaxed side of her—maybe because with his clowning around, it’s hard for anyone to stay detached. One time, when Patch and Jonathan and I went to a party at a karaoke bar, Mickey ended up belting out this Celine Dion song, “All By Myself,” at the top of his lungs, waving his arms at Philippa’s table, and even though they were sort of broken up then she’d ended up laughing hysterically and going home with him in a cab.

  I wondered if I’d ever have a real, steady boyfriend like that. I found myself thinking of Bennett again. But by now I was at Philippa’s door, so bracing myself, I took a deep breath and rang the bell. I hoped she wouldn’t still be totally furious at me, but I was ready for whatever might happen.

  After a long time, I was about to ring the bell again when the door finally swung open. There was Philippa, looking all disheveled and out of breath, wearing a boy’s T-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts.

  “Flan! Thank God it’s you. I was scared my dad was home early,” she said, leading me into the house. “Hang on a sec. Mickey’s hiding under my bed.” She ran halfway up the stairs, yelling, “Mickey! Mickey, you can come down now!”

  “Sorry if I’m interrupting something,” I said, feeling way awkward all of a sudden.

  “No, don’t worry about it.” She glanced over h
er shoulder and added a little doubtfully, “I’m glad to see you.” She came back down the stairs and flopped into one of the chairs in the living room. “How’ve you been?”

  I decided to cut right to the point. “I feel terrible about what happened with you guys the last time I saw you. Seriously. I hope you don’t hate me.”

  “Jesus, Flan, I couldn’t hate you.” Philippa smiled and shook her head. “I think I was just pissed that night because there was this big scene between Mickey and Sara-Beth and he ended up skipping out on me again. But we’ve made up now. Anyway, it’s not me you have to apologize to. It’s Sara-Beth.”

  I nodded. “I know. I’m throwing a party at my house to try to make up with everybody. That guy I like’s going to be there—so are my friends from school. Do you think she’ll come?”

  Philippa squinted, thinking. “Have you talked to her yet?”

  “Well, I’ve left her a couple of voice mails, but she hasn’t called me back.”

  I glanced around the room. The house was decorated the way I imagined an art dealer’s would be: in neutral colors, mostly white and tan, so the art stood out that much more. There were paintings and drawings hanging all over the walls—I saw one with flying goats and people playing musical instruments that looked like it was by Marc Chagall, who I studied last year in art history—and there were little marble pillars around the room, with sculptures on them that were lit up with spotlights like in a museum.

  “The thing is, she’s mad, but I think she wants to make up with you.” Philippa smiled. “Nobody can stay mad forever. Mickey and I fight every second day, but I’m starting to think it keeps things interesting.”

  Just then, Mickey came jumping down the stairs. He had a little patchy beard that somehow made him look both older and sillier at the same time.

  “Hey, Flan,” he said, ruffling my hair like I was still a little kid. He tried to climb into the chair with Philippa, but she hit him with a pillow. He made a roaring sound and grabbed her. Then they started tickling each other, until finally they were both sitting in the chair, with Philippa on his lap. With some couples, stuff like that would make me feel really left out, but it was sweet to see them together like that. They were so much in love that it kind of wore off on me.