I realize I’ve just done the same with Emma. She spilled her terrible secret, and I kept mine. Now to maintain the charade with Avery, for the rest of my life….
* * *
—
Emma and I arrive perfectly fashionably late to the ED day party at Whitley Hall. It’s 8:15 and music is throbbing through the double-paned windows. I know there will be a keg inside, plus a smorgasbord of liquor, even some wine for the classier among us. I am rarely classy. The administration, namely the faculty in residence and our RAs, look the other way on ED day, which is how the boys are able to hold such a barn burner on campus, on a Tuesday night no less.
On the outside, Whitley Hall is stately vintage 1850s, but inside it’s renovated. Everything works like new, particularly the heating and plumbing, essential at a school with such entitled students. Whitley is the most popular upper-level dormitory for boys. It boasts suite-style living on the upper floors and a spacious lounge and chef’s kitchen on the ground level, perfect for debauchery. We find a towering stack of pizza boxes on the generous kitchen island. I search through five boxes until I root out the pepperoni and help myself to two slices. Always start a party with a good cheese base.
Emma locates the drinks station immediately and pours us each a vodka cranberry. Coach will raise hell if she finds out I’ve broken the dry-season promise, but it’s ED day. I will, at least, leave the party early to get to bed on time. The price of rowing is you become a de facto early riser. Conditioning starts at 6:00 a.m. sharp.
“Hey, aren’t there usually five of you?” A boy wearing a sky-blue polo and self-satisfied smirk materializes in front of us. He grabs a red cup and depresses the keg handle.
“Screw you, Chase.”
“Wow, Olivia, bad news today?” he clucks. “I was joking. If you want to find the rest of the Mean Girls, they’re in the lounge.”
“And where are you going next year?” Emma chimes in, perfectly on mission. I already forgot I need to ask Rebecca Ito about Harvard. I stare at my vodka cranberry accusingly.
Chase, who I expected to squirm, grins at us instead. “Don’t worry, I’m not in your way. Was deferred at Duke, and now I can apply to Notre Dame, too. Not your kind of schools.”
Emma shoots him a middle finger and he sidles off, ogling Sierra along the way. She shouts after him to “fuck off,” then skips to my side and slips her arm under mine.
“Hey, teammate.” Sierra’s voice is now perfectly sweet. “Ready to make the rounds?”
“Already?” Emma groans. “I need to find Margot, then.”
“Calm your tits, Em, I’m here.” Margot swans in from the lounge. She deposits her Solo cup on the drinks table and reaches for Malibu and Diet Coke for a refill. Margot is the kind of girl who wears thousand-dollar suede boots out in the snow, sniffs when they get ruined, and simply buys another pair. Luxury items are disposable to her, like tissues. Yet at a party? She goes full-on wasted sorority girl with a single drink. Already her cheeks are flushed a bright red.
“Let’s go get this done quickly.” Margot smooths a hand over her immaculate French braid, grabs her drink, and leads Emma away.
“That girl is on the hunt.” Sierra moves in to refill her own drink. I notice her dutifully pour only Sprite. The back of my neck burns with shame. “Watch out, Milo. Speaking of, you ready for Rebecca?”
“I guess so.”
Rebecca Ito has been a thorn in the Ivies’ side for years. She was our fiercest competition for valedictorian and salutatorian until first semester junior year, when a bad breakup sent her reeling and she fucked up both her AP Chem final and AP US History paper. She’s lucky Milo McNamara is a dick. He saved her from further suffering the Ivies’ wrath. Avery was satisfied to see Rebecca’s class rank fall several spots, and I had secured enough demerits for her sneaking out for hookups that it cost her a Model UN spot last year.
She’s not our biggest fan.
“You should circle anyone else you think might have applied.” I say, shooing Sierra off.
“You mean, like you?”
I shoot her a look. “Let’s just get this done.”
Sierra drops the attitude. She can only rib me for so long. “Yeah, fine. I’ll talk to some people. After all, if you were able to go rogue and apply, other people probably were, too. I thought that new college counselor was a dumbass. Not from our world.”
Our world. It warms my insides momentarily that Sierra includes me. Sometimes she’s the only one who makes me feel like I belong.
“Let’s go out there for thirty minutes, then forget about Avery’s stupid assignment and have fun, yeah?” Sierra snaps me out of my musings.
“You leaving early?” Like I have to ask. Sierra is more dedicated to rowing than I am. Unlike me, she’s recruitable. Yale sent her likely letter ages ago, and sure enough, today she got in. Though I had great promise when Claflin scouted me, I never got good enough for top colleges to recruit me. I’m just glad Claflin hasn’t booted me for being such a disappointment. Despite being average, I love the water.
“Ten-thirty?” We agree on the time to leave and then make our way into the main throng of the party to find our quarries.
The kitchen abuts the lounge, which runs the length of eight towering windows and wraps around a grand staircase. The ceiling is vaulted and high, a real boon to a party packed with fifty seniors and an obnoxiously loud sound system. The staircase leads up to the second-floor landing, which affords a full view—and earful—of the lounge below.
They’ve dragged the study tables to the sides of the room and pushed all the overstuffed leather chairs and two couches into a cluster in the middle of the room. At the far end, a group is playing Mario Kart on a seventy-inch screen affixed to the wall. That’s where I find Rebecca. And, much to my surprise, Margot. Even more shocking: Margot is kicking ass at Rainbow Road.
I join the crowd, hovering at the back of the couch, waiting for their turn to end. When it does, Margot swaps places with Nisha Khan so she can take her turn, then jumps into a lively conversation with Jason Wang. Avery confirmed he was rejected ED (Washington University in St. Louis), so Margot will be sussing out his RD plans. Rebecca taps in Diana Klein, and I take the opportunity to pounce.
“Hey, Rebecca. Good game.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What do you want, Olivia?”
I concede, offering a pathetic grimace. Behind me, Diana screams at Nisha, who just launched a shell at her. “Can we, um…?” I direct her over to the windows, away from the Mario madness of the couch. But once we are reasonably ensconced in the corner, my mind goes blank. I don’t know how to start.