Pretty Little Secrets

There was no one at the party Emily even remotely recognized. She passed through the living room into a dining room with a stately old table laden with booze, and then into the kitchen, which had a stainless-steel fridge and expensive-looking pots and pans hanging from a rack above the island. Pinned up to the fridge was a neon-yellow Post-it that said, Cassie is a slutty beast! There were black bananas in a hanging basket over the oven, and a ton of dishes were piled in the sink. Emily wondered if Cassie was holding down the fort while her parents were away on vacation.

When her gaze clapped on the view of the Hollis spire out the back window, a pathway connected in her brain. The field hockey party she and Ali had attended all those years ago was in this very same house. It had been in the dining room behind her that Cassie plied Ali with vodka and Red Bulls and ignored Emily completely.

“Oops,” a voice said behind Emily. She turned just as a burly guy, wearing a T-shirt that had a drawing of a penis on it, spilled half his beer on her arm.

“Hey!” Emily cried, drawing back. Her sleeve was drenched.

“Sorry,” the guy half-spoke, half-belched. He wandered away.

The hip-hop song rose in volume, making Emily’s head ache. After toweling off her sleeve, she escaped back into the dining room, which was slightly less crowded. A guy stood behind the table, pouring vodka into a red plastic cup. He raised his eyes to Emily. “What are you having? Cassie’s making me be bartender so no one hogs the booze.”

“Oh, uh, I’ll just have some orange juice.” Emily pointed to the first nonalcoholic beverage she saw, thinking of her mother’s advice not to drink.

A slow smirk rolled across the guy’s face. “It’s not like I’m going to card you.”

“Really. Orange juice is fine,” Emily insisted, feeling like the most prudish girl in the universe.

She took the red cup from the guy—at least now she had something to do with her hands—and wandered through the crowd, looking for Cassie and the elves. People stared past her apathetically as though she wasn’t even there.

Then the crowd parted, and she spotted four figures lounging on plastic lawn chairs next to the radiator in the front room. It was Cassie, dressed in a leather skirt and a tie-dyed baby tee. She’d bleached her blue hair to white blond, though it was nothing like the blond hair from her field hockey days. Heather, Sophie, and Lola, each in similarly skimpy outfits, sat next to her, whispering and looking smug.

Emily pushed through the throng toward them. When only a few people stood between Emily and the elves, a tall boy leaned over Cassie, grinning mysteriously. “I heard you guys have been raising hell all over town. Is it true?”

Cassie gave him a cryptic smile. “That’s what elves do, isn’t it?”

“That’s for us to know and you to wonder about,” Heather added.

“You guys rock,” the guy said, giving Lola a fist bump.

Then Cassie looked up and stared squarely at Emily. Emily felt a swoop in her stomach and waved, but Cassie just peered through her. Lola glanced in Emily’s direction too, but she gave Emily the same blank, unwelcoming expression.

Emily shrank back. A high-pitched giggle lilted through the air. She knew the laugh was meant for her.

She drank the orange juice, pretending it was booze. So this was just a big joke. The elves wanted to make it clear how big of a loser she was. She ducked into the empty hall bathroom, feeling tears rush to her eyes. After fiddling with the old-timey glass knob so that the door actually shut, she plopped down on the side of the tub and placed her head in her hands. Talk about déjà vu—she’d locked herself in this very same bathroom at the party in seventh grade, shortly after Ali had headed upstairs with Cassie. The pain she’d felt back then was still so palpable. It felt like Ali had been breaking up with her—and, in a way, she had been.

Emily stood up, padded over to the mirror, and stared hard at her reflection. “Get over it,” she told the mirror. “You’re not that seventh grader anymore. You’re stronger than you used to be.”

She splashed cold water on her face and walked into the front room again. The crowd was just as thick, but she used her elbows to maneuver between kids until she was face-to-face with the elves. Emily tapped Cassie on the shoulder. Cassie squinted at Emily, her mouth pinched into a sneer.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Emily said sarcastically. “I’ve had a blast.”

Cassie peered at her from under her white-blond bangs. “Who the hell are you?”

Emily wanted to groan. “You know who I am. Emily.”

“Emily?” Cassie looked at Heather, Sophie, and Lola, who were now peering curiously at her, too. “Ring any bells, girls?”

“I didn’t invite anyone named Emily,” Lola said, slightly slurring her words.

“Me neither,” Sophie and Heather piped up.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Did my brother invite you? I told him we were way over capacity.”

“You invited me!” Emily exclaimed. “It’s Emily Fields! Santa!”

It was as if a light went on over Cassie’s head. She smiled. “Santa? I didn’t recognize you without your beard! Guys, it’s Santa!”

“Santa!” Heather whooped. “Wassup?”

“Hey, Santa,” Sophie said.

“You should have worn your hat.” Lola looked annoyed. “How were we supposed to know it’s you?”

“Hang on a sec.” Cassie shot up and disappeared into a back room. Moments later, she appeared with another lawn chair and plunked it down next to her. “Here you go, Santa. Hang out with us. What can I get you to drink?”

Emily blinked at the empty chair, then stared at the two inches of orange juice left in her cup. “Um, how about a vodka and Red Bull?”

“Excellent choice.” Cassie winked. “Those used to be my favorite.”

I know, Emily wanted to say. She sat in the lawn chair, suddenly feeling kind of amazing. Just like that, the party had gotten much, much more interesting.

Chapter 7

The Cool Crowd

“More vodka, anyone?” Cassie raised a bottle of Absolut in the air and shook it. A bit of liquid sloshed in the bottom.

“Me, me!” Lola raised her hand. So did Heather and Sophie. Instead of topping them off, Cassie made a beeline for Emily, glugging a good three shots’ worth into her cup. “I’ve barely seen you take a sip, Santa!”

It was about an hour later, and although the party was still raging inside Cassie’s house, the elves and Emily had formed a little VIP section in Cassie’s backyard, which had a big deck and a couple of heat lamps to fend off the cold. It was peaceful out there, though, with the stars in the dark sky making a chandelier over their heads and the heat lamps providing a soothing warmth on their skin.

The elves talked about the best college ragers they’d ever been to, how lame the Devon Crest Mall was, and tales about the previous Santa at Santa Land, whose name was Fletcher, and who’d apparently tried to make out with all four of the elves on the same day. “That dude was dying to get some,” Cassie moaned, hand over her eyes. “He didn’t even care who it was.”

“Remember that prissy-looking brunette girl who actually fell for him?” Lola snickered. “I’m convinced those two snuck off somewhere.”

“Yeah, right.” Cassie sniffed. “She wouldn’t have gone for him. Even she wasn’t that stupid.”

“Nasty, huh, Santa?” Lola giggled, tapping Emily with her foot. Emily nodded.

“Speaking of gross guys.” Cassie propped her feet on the deck rail. “I can’t believe what an asshole Colin’s being tonight. He hasn’t said one word to me, not even thanks for inviting me to your party. Do you think I should try and talk to him, or should I just let it go?”

“Forget him.” Heather waved her hand as if to sweep him away.

“We’re in the same boat.” Lola slumped down in her chair. “I saw Brian disappear up the stairs with Chelsea. I guess that was his way of telling me it’s over between us.”

“At least he didn’t break up with you in a Facebook post.” Sophie lit a cigarette. “I’ll never forgive James for doing that to me.”

“That’s a Yale boy for you.” Cassie clucked her tongue. “And you should never go out with someone from your dorm.”

Emily peered at Sophie. “You go to Yale?”

Sophie shrugged. “Yeah, but probably not for much longer.”

Cassie snickered. “Oh, please. Sophie was valedictorian at Prichard. She probably still does her homework the night it’s assigned. And the extra-credit.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sophie’s braids bounced as she shook her head. “I’ve totally slipped.”

“Okay, Daddy does your homework,” Cassie corrected.

“Are you still going to be a doctor, just like Daddy wants?” Heather teased.

Sophie blew a smoke ring. “My grades this semester blew. I probably won’t be able to get into the premed program if I keep this up. My parents are going to murder me when they find out.” She said this toughly, but when she turned her head away there was a petrified look on her face.

Heather must have sensed her fear, because she snickered and said, “Poor little Sophie, under all that pressure. You were bound to crack sometime.”

Sophie whirled back around and slapped the arm of her chair. “At least my parents notice when I’m a fuckup. Who’s your dad spending all his time with these days? One of The Pussycat Dolls?”

Cassie let out a loud guffaw. Heather raked her fingers angrily through her pixie-short hair. “Ha frickin’ ha,” she said in a small voice, suddenly sounding sober.

“Your dad knows The Pussycat Dolls?” Emily asked, mostly to cut the tension.

The elves turned their attention to Emily, almost like they’d forgotten she was there. “Actually, no,” Heather snapped. “But he’s a music producer and knows a lot of other artists.”

“Knows them intimately,” Lola said meaningfully. “He brought one of the runners-up on American Idol to Heather’s graduation party and was all over her. You should have seen Heather’s face!”

Heather kicked her chair. “Tell the whole world, why don’t you? Like your life is so perfect? How’s your brother? What rehab facility is he in these days?”

Lola’s face paled. She didn’t elaborate, but Emily remembered the name Rocco from the conversation Lola had had on her cell phone behind the gingerbread house earlier today.

A silence fell over the group. Sophie puffed on her Marlboro Light, staring into the middle distance. Heather tapped her foot against the porch rail. Emily shifted her butt in the uncomfortable lawn chair, wishing she could find the right words to say to make everything better. This reminded her of the dynamic between Ali, Emily, and her old friends at the end of seventh grade, especially when Ali hinted at a secret she knew about one of them but the others didn’t. Maybe there was some deep-seated animosity within this group, too.