Which is why being friends with Rob has always felt so good. He’s popular, sure—he’s probably the most popular guy in our class—but he’s also justRob. I don’t have to pretend around him or think about what I’m going to say next. Not that I do withCharlie or Olivia, but sometimes it feels like we’re all—all three of us—in some kind of play. Like we need to get our lines right. Like the whole performance is depending on it. It is really absolute garbage sometimes being a girl.
“Want to hear about Len Stephens?” Charlie asks. “He’s already being kicked out of school.”
Len Stephens is this guy in our class we don’t hang out with. Charlie calls him “toxic,” but most people just call him an ass. He’s sarcastic, and his hair is too long and messy, like he cuts it himself or something.
“School hasn’t even started.”
“Apparently he pulled senior prank early.”
“What did he do?”
“Reorganized the online system so that it deleted every student transcript.”
“No way.”
“Swear.” Charlie puts her hand over her heart like she’s pledging allegiance.
“How is that even possible?”
Charlie shrugs. “He hacked into the school’s computer system.”
The only thing I really know about Len is that he used to take piano lessons before me from this German woman named Famke. I think I stopped in the sixth grade or something, and Iguess he probably did too. That was around the time most people got serious with sports or dance and dropped other hobbies. I thought he was pretty good, but then again I used to think tube tops were cute, so what did I know?
“Whatever,” Charlie says, moving on. “Let’s talk about Jake.”
“So you guys are back together?” I look out the window at the passing trees. It’s not that I don’t care about Charlie’s love life. I do, of course. It’s just that no one moment in time is very indicative of their overall relationship. If she’s with Jake today, it doesn’t mean she will be tomorrow. Or even by the time we get to school, for that matter. They have this very strange relationship. Charlie likes to act like it’s all heartbreaking and disturbed. Like theycan’tbe together even though they really want to. Honestly, I don’t see the obstacles. Unless the fact that he wears baseball caps a lot and calls everyone “dude” is an obstacle. Which maybe, it is. They broke up because he called her “bro” at prom last year, and then they didn’t speak for a week. They’ve been casual all summer, but an official reunion doesn’t surprise me. Mostly I think they hit so many speed bumps because Charlie likes injecting drama so her boyfriend doesn’t seem so basic. And what is more dramatic, really, than heartbreak?
“Totally,” she says. “He came over last night and said he wanted this year to be different.” Jake has said he wants things to be different about forty-two times in the last year and a half, so I take this with a grain of salt.
“Cool.”
“I’m serious, Rose. I think it’s going to work out this time.” I glance over at her, and her face looks set, determined. Celebratory, even. Which, if you know Charlie, makes a lot of sense. Deciding to do something and doing it are basically the same thing in her world.
“That’s great,” I chirp. “Super.” I try to sound excited, but Charlie sees right through it.
“How am I supposed to work with you this year if you’re going to be all mopey and dreary-eyed?” She passes me her makeup bag and flips down my visor mirror. “Apply, please. Let’s try to channel some of that ‘fake it till you make it’ energy when we step into that auditorium.”
Scene Two
We live exactly seven minutesfrom school, and when I say we’ve never been late, I mean it. We’ve never been late. Charlie has been picking me up since she got her car last October, but we’ve driven together since elementary school. First with her mom and then, when her mom got sick, with mine.
Charlie says the thing about being popular is that you can’t push it. Meaning you can get away with a lot but you have to know the line you can’t cross. For us that line is being late, and we never are. Even Olivia, who takes approximately four hours to get ready every morning. I don’t think she particularly cares about being on time, but she’s not one to be argumentative about much.
I’ve had a perfect attendance record since freshman year,with the one exception of the time Olivia broke her foot and I had to go with her to the emergency room. I go along with the being-on-time because I plan on getting into and going to Stanford next year. I have an okay shot, too. I just need to focus and keep my eye on the ball for this first term. Which means I’ll follow Charlie’s never-be-late rule, even if I have different reasons for it.
Charlie swings into the upper parking lot, and for a second I open my mouth to correct her, but then I remember that we’re seniors now, which means we really do park here. From the upper lot you can see down to the entire school. San Bellaro was named Most Beautiful Campus in some nationwide search last year, and for a moment, sitting in Charlie’s car, I can see why. It used to be an estate, and Cooper House, our school’s main building, is this former mansion. The teachers’ offices are old converted bedrooms, and these Victorian chandeliers hang in a lot of classrooms. Jake wants to raid the girls’ locker room and hang all our underwear, or whatever, from the chandeliers for senior prank this year. Charlie tried to explain to him that the senior prank is not supposed to be playedonthe seniors, but I don’t think he really got it.
The rest of the school buildings are converted guesthouses and garages and even a horse stable. The building behind the quad is new, but it was built to look just like Cooper House,so you can’t really tell. There is ivy growing up and over all the buildings, and if you look straight down past the soccer field, you can see the ocean. It would be a great place to spend time if it wasn’t, you know, school.
Olivia is already there when we pull in, climbing out of her BMW SUV. It was a gift from her stepdad for her sixteenth birthday. It’s white, and the license plate readsOLIVE16. Olivia’s parents sometimes call her Olive. She says she can’t stand it, but I think secretly she loves it. Her family is pretty close. Her mom had two new boys with her stepdad, and Olivia spends a lot of time with her little brothers.
“Heyyy,” Olivia says. She has on basically the same thing Charlie is wearing: skinny jeans, purple ballet flats, and a gray tank top, except Olivia has a bright blue cardigan thrown over the whole thing instead of a hoodie. Her hair is up in a ponytail.
Olivia stretches, lifting her arms up over her head and hiking her shirt, revealing a wide expanse of abdomen. Charlie would call this a power move. Her theory is that we all have one. It’s the thing you do to show yourself off. For instance, sometimes Beth Orden sticks out her chest because her boobs have been sort of above average since the second half of sophomore year. I wish it didn’t work, but like I said, I’m a realist and teenage guys can be ridiculous.
“Good luck with that,” Charlie says, pointing to her bellybutton. “Contrary to appearances, we do have a dress code.”
Olivia yawns, rolls her eyes, and hooks one of the buttons on her cardigan.
