Frost - Marianna Baer Страница 13

vodka to my own can of soda and passed the flask to Cameron.

Abby’s “date,” the guy who was playing Tilden in the play, had

canceled; it was the four of us Frost Housers, plus David, Whip,

and Cam.

Since we didn’t have a proper dining table, the seven of us

were seated around the coffee table in the common room.

Celeste wore a slinky silver evening dress and a thin black shawl

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over her shoulders. With Whip’s blazer and khaki pants with

embroidered whales, they made quite a pair sitting together on

the couch.

I went into the kitchen and started bringing out the plates of

food I’d prepared. As I brought out the last two, Whip was saying,

“I can’t believe they made this place a girls’ dorm. I was supposed

to live here. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, and my father

all did. It’s a frigging Spaulding Whipple Windham tradition.”

“It’s been around that long?” Viv asked.

“My great-grandfather lived here the first year it was a

dorm.”

“What was it before that?” I said, settling cross-legged on the

floor next to David.

Whip took a bite of lasagna, chewed, wiped his mouth, and

then said, “A family’s house—nothing to do with Barcroft. My

grandfather says during his time, all the guys made a big joke of

living here because there’d been some hysterical chick—I mean,

woman—living in it years before. Like the chick in the attic in

Wuthering Heights.”

“Jane Eyre,” I said. “You know, Whip, it’s not really referred

to as hysteria anymore.”

“What is it now? PMS?”

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“Yeah. Right,” I said. My eyes met David’s. He gave his a

slight roll, then reached over and picked something out of my

hair.

Food, already? “Lasagna?” I whispered, appalled.

David grinned. “Kidding.”

“He told me this story,” Whip went on as I made a face at

David, “about how everyone was scared of Frost House because

of the rumors about the girl. So they pretended it was haunted or

some shit and got all these kids to come over.” He took a swig of

his drink.

“And?” Celeste said after a minute.

“And what?” Whip said.

“What happened?” Celeste asked.

“What do you mean?” Whip said. “That’s what happened.

They scared people and got busted for making some freshman

piss his pants.”

“Sounds like a good time,” David said. “Can you pass the

salad, Vivian?”

“Yeah,” Whip said, apparently not noticing David’s sarcasm.

“Anyway, it sucks they made it a girls’ dorm this year.”

“Everyone always thinks Victorian houses are haunted,” I

said, finishing chewing a bite. “When I was little, my friends were

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scared to spend the night because we lived in an old Queen Anne

and they thought it was creepy. It was so stupid.”

“Maybe that was just an excuse,” Abby said, “because they

didn’t want to spend the night with you.”

“Very funny.” I rolled a bread ball and shot it at her. We were

pretty much back to normal after our spat in the kitchen, but I

could tell that she was still mad I’d compared her to Celeste.

“What dorm are you in, Whip?” Viv asked.

“He’s in Franklin,” Celeste said. “It’s a nice room. All new

furniture. Really swank. I think the mattress is new, too. Good and

bouncy. Not like the terrible ones we have here.”

Whoa. I glanced at David. He was frozen, his fork halfway

between his plate and mouth.

“So, what type of ‘project’ are you guys doing?” Abby asked

Celeste and Whip in a suggestive tone.

“It’s for rel-phil,” Celeste said. “We’re each other’s gods.”

“You’re what?” Abby said.

“We each have to dress the other one as our idea of a god.

Then take a photograph, write a paper about physical

representations of gods, blah, blah. Whip’s going to be naked.”

Whip’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

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“My god does not wear clothes.” Celeste reached over and

tugged the lapel of his blazer. “Especially not whale pants.”

I was thoroughly amused by their interaction; but the look of

horror on David’s face told me he wasn’t.

Whip wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve got

nothing to be ashamed of. But there’s no way I’m letting photos

get out that might ruin my political career.”

“Are you serious?” Celeste said. “That would be your

objection? Oh, you are so getting naked. I already have this idea

for body paint I want to put on you.”

A loud clattering came as David reached to put his plate on

the coffee table and somehow knocked off a tray of cheese and

crackers.

“Damn,” he said. “Sorry.” He began collecting the things that

had scattered on the carpet.

I stood up. “More lasagna, anyone? While I’m in the

kitchen?”

“Sure. Great food, Leena,” Cameron said, handing me his

plate.

“Leena’s my god,” Viv said to the room. “She can cook, build

furniture, fix her car, and tie a knot in a cherry stem with her

tongue.”

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“You’re so modest, Leena,” Celeste said. “You make it seem

like you’re just another pretty, blond prep-school student.”

“That’s nice,” Abby said, turning to Celeste with a laser glare.

“What?” Celeste said. “I just meant that you’d never know

she was so talented because she doesn’t talk about herself.”

“As opposed to you,” Abby said.

“That’s okay. I know what Celeste meant,” I interjected.

“Who wants a cupcake?”

“Damn right,” Celeste said to Abby, ignoring me. “I know I’m

talented and ambitious and if I work hard, I’ll be successful. And I

don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying that. Guys get

away with bragging all the time.”

“You don’t know,” Abby said. “Anything could happen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” David asked.

“Coffee?” I said.

“What I said.” Abby crossed her arms. “Anything could

happen that would mean Celeste isn’t some raving success.”

“Look,” David said, “if you’re implying what I think you’re

implying, that’s—”

“I think she’s just referring to life’s unpredictability,” I said,

my arms now loaded up with dirty plates to bring to the kitchen.

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“Abby, can you help me here? Please? I’m about to drop

something.”

In the lovely calm of Ms. Martin’s apartment, I took my time

rinsing dishes and getting more food for Cameron. While Abby

figured out the glass coffee-brewing contraption. I decided not to

tell her to lay off Celeste, knowing that she was probably still

feeling sensitive. The ironic thing was now that I thought about it,

Abby and Celeste did have some similarities. Abby completely

thought that she had the talent to be a successful professional

actress, that stardom was hers for the taking. She’d only jumped

on Celeste like that because she thought Celeste had dissed me.

When we got back into the common room, the mood had

completely changed. Viv was doing a dance like a football player

in the end zone, saying, “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah,” waving her phone

in the air.

“What’s up, Vee?” Abby said. “Some great-uncle die and

leave you his fortune?”

“Better,” Viv said. “I got a message from my mother. You

know how we have that random Monday off in a few weeks?”

“Curriculum Development Day,” I said, handing Cameron his

refilled plate.

“Yeah. Do you guys want to spend the long weekend in New

York, sans parents? They’re going to be in Paris and totally

offered us the house.”

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“Really?” I said. Viv’s family has an incredible town house

that overlooks a huge park in Brooklyn. “If they won’t be there,

who’ll write our chaperone letters?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Dad’ll write the letters. He

doesn’t care about rules like that.”

“Exdese!” Abby bounced up and down on the armchair as

well as the ancient cushions would allow. “Truly exdese!”

“Don’t get too excited,” Whip said to Celeste. “Viv’s house is

in an outer borough. Not the city.”

“Oh,” Celeste said. “I don’t think . . .”

A series of darting looks passed among us as we all realized

the awkwardness of the moment. Viv and I held eyes for a

second.

“Of course you’re invited,” Viv said to Celeste. “There’s

plenty of room. And David, you should come, too. Cameron will

be there so you won’t be totally outnumbered.”

“Thanks,” David said. “I have to see whether I signed up for a

Ride Club trip.”

“If you ladies want to get out of the suburbs, I’ll be at my

parents’ on the Upper East Side. You’re welcome to come visit,”

Whip said. “I can send a car.”

“You’re such a snob,” Viv said.

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“And what would it take to get you out to Brooklyn?” Celeste

poked Whip on the shoulder. Her touch lingered.

I sensed movement from my right and when I looked over,

David was standing and reaching for his jacket. “I just realized I’ve

got something to do,” he said. “Sorry. I totally forgot.”

In amazingly quick time, he was out the door.

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Chapter 14

AN HOUR OR SO LATER, dinner was over, Viv and Cameron

had banished me from the cleanup stage, and the vodka in my

head wasn’t helping me decipher what had happened. I couldn’t

sort out who had been mad or offended and why, and what

repercussions there might be, if any, not to mention what the hell

was going on with Celeste and Whip. Or Celeste and David. And

the trip to New York! God.

I paced around my bedroom, picking things up and putting

them down. When I walked by Celeste’s closet, I touched the

doorknob. The next time, I let my hand rest on it, curving around

the beveled glass. My hand turned and I heard the click of the

latch and felt the door moving toward me as my arm pulled back.

A shudder went through me as the air crept out.

Stepping away for a moment, I peeked into the hall to make

sure that Celeste and Whip were in the little room with the door

shut. Then I closed the door to the bedroom and locked it from

the inside. Following an impulse, I grabbed Cubby off the

windowsill.

I left the closet door open a crack so I’d have some light and

so I’d be able to hear any movement from the hallway. I sat on

the floor and shifted myself into the corner, partially covered by

Celeste’s clothes, leaving a space for the wedge of light to stream

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through. I leaned my head against the wall and breathed in the

cool, musty air.

I held Cubby up and looked in her eyes, which were catching

just a bit of the light. “That was quite a dinner party, didn’t you

think?” I said to her.

How on earth would I know? I said to myself in Cubby’s

accent. I wasn’t even there.

“Oh, right,” I whispered. “It got kind of messy. Boys, you

know.”

Boys, yes. They can be dangerous.

“But cute,” I said.

All the same, you need to be careful.

I ran my finger over her feathers, up and down the scalloped

ridges.

“It’s not like you have to worry,” I said. “You’re all nice and

safe back here.”

I’m not the one who isn’t safe.

I didn’t like the voice she used when she said that. Of course,

it was my voice. But at the same time, somehow, it wasn’t.

The bird tweet ringtone of Celeste’s phone disrupted

whatever tipsy weirdness I was indulging in. I quickly pushed

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myself up and out of the closet, brushing the clothes back into

place and shutting the door securely behind me.

Her cell lay on her dresser. David’s name flashed on the

screen. I touched the glittery blue case and thought of him on the

other end, pictured him shifting from foot to foot, the way he did,

hoping the call would be answered. The tweets stopped.

I put Cubby back on the sill, her eyes facing the window. For

once, I didn’t feel like having her watching over me. Then I sat on

my bed with my head in my hands. After a minute I stood, picked

up Celeste’s phone, and returned the call.

He answered right away. “Are you done with that jerk, or

what?”

“Oh, hi, David . . . it’s Leena. Not Celeste. Her phone was

right here so . . .”

“Oh. Hey. What’s up?”

“Not much. I just wanted to see if everything was okay. You

left kind of suddenly.”

“Sorry about that. Just something I forgot to do.” He paused.

“Is Celeste still with that guy?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Do you think I should come back over?”

“Come over and . . . ?”

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“I don’t know. Distract her.”

“I think she’s okay. You missed dessert. Cupcakes.” I checked

the time. Still fairly early. “I could bring one over to you there. If

you wanted.”

There was silence on the other end. “Okay,” he finally said.

“Sure, if you feel like getting out.”

I glanced over at the door to Celeste’s closet. What had I

been doing in there? “Yeah,” I said, “I definitely need to get out.”

When I got to Prescott Hall, I phoned from downstairs for

David to meet me to get parietals. He didn’t answer. I sat on one

of the scratchy, yellow ochre couches in the lounge and called a

couple more times, feeling progressively more idiotic about the

foil-wrapped cupcake in my hands and the nervousness that had

wriggled in my stomach on the way over. Obviously, we’d had a

misunderstanding. Or had he changed his mind and was now just

ignoring me?

I was about to give up when I heard the groan of a door