THE WEEKEND WASblissfully uneventful. Sam drove me to school on Friday and then surprised me at lunch by taking Tucker to go pick up my car from the medical office park. It was back in the student lot before I got back from the diner. That evening, I found an unexpected ally in Karen, and we spent our dinner out convincing my mother I'm responsible enough to go to Miami. Mom wasn't exactly eager to agree, but the fact that she's known Carl and her parents since I was little didn't hurt, and she's gotten to know Tina since we moved here and likes her, too.
I know my mom is anxious about the whole thing, and frankly, so am I, but I'm eighteen, and like Sam said, I'm only going to be a senior once. I don't want to let Robin Forbes take anything more from me than he already has. With Carl and Tina - and if I'm honest with myself, Sam - I think I can handle it. In fact, I'm actually looking forward to it. Less than two weeks away.
When my mom came to my room Sunday evening with my travel itinerary printed out, I had mixed feelings, though my excitement and gratitude were all I allowed her to see. Just seeing the word "Florida" in print made me break out in goose bumps. But Miami is nowhere near Linton - where I assume Robin still is. And I must admit, it gives me some satisfaction that my life isn't the only one that was irrevocably altered by him and what he did. I ruined his life too, or so he, and everyone else in town, screamed from the rooftops. And, vengefully, I wish it were true - I wish I had the power to ruin his life. But the truth is, he ruined his own damned life.
Right now, my biggest concern is Chelsea and her friends. I'd be more excited for Miami if they weren't coming too. Ostensibly, we're all "friends". We go to the same parties and even find ourselves at the same lunch table from time to time. But ever since Chelsea called me out for avoiding the locker room and Sam defended me, she's given up on subtlety.
I find her casting vicious glares my way, particularly when I'm interacting with Sam, but instead of backing away, now I simply ignore her. I've spent enough time letting the popular kids - and adults for that matter - wield their power over me. But Port Woodmere isn't Linton, it's not a small town, and Chelsea isn't Lacey.
Monday has dragged on and I'm relieved when the last bell of the day rings and my lab period is over. I'm not a science person - English and History have always been my thing - but since lab alternates days with phys ed, it's the lesser of two evils for me. I'd always loved phys-ed, being a retired tomboy and natural athlete, but the dread of the locker room has overshadowed all else, and even though I avoid it in favor of the bathroom just up the hall, the memory of why I have to do so precedes every gym period.
After school, I hop in my Jeep and follow Carl to drop off her car at home so we can go meet Tina at the Roosevelt Field Mall. Carl has insisted I do some shopping for our trip, and frankly, she's right. All I ever wear are jeans and tee shirts, but based on what she's asking me to try on, I can only surmise she's planning on pimping me out in South Beach. I decline the leather mini skirt and bare midriff halter and select a few sun dresses that aren't too revealing. I also buy two skirts, one denim and one pink flouncy one that is too girly to be provocative.
Swimsuits are a bigger issue. Carl and Tina's selections are nothing more than a few tiny scraps of material suspended on strings. I pick out two one-pieces that are probably meant more for my mother than me, but I don't care.
Carl barges into my dressing room as I'm checking myself out in a black skirted one-piece. It does nothing for my figure, but everything for hiding my scar.
"Oh, hell no," Carl declares as she hangs a few more options on the rack.
I roll my eyes and peruse her latest selections. At least she's heading in the right direction. The bikinis have more coverage, and she actually brought a few one-pieces, albeit ones that are arguably sexier than the bikinis. I finger one with a boy-shorts bottom and wonder if it will cover at least most of my scar.
"Rory, you have the sickest body. You are not covering it up on spring break! The whole point of the beach is to flaunt what you got," she admonishes.
I glance down at my skinny legs, shapeless hips, and modest breasts. Definitely notthe sickest body.I pull out one of the one-pieces she brought in and try to figure out if the cut outs will be too revealing.
"That'll look great on you," Carl encourages, but my hesitation is obvious. "Rory, it's going to be fun, okay? Whatever you're worried about, whatever you're afraid of, just leave it behind. Me and Teen will be with you the whole time. It's going to be great."Great. She's sure using that word a lot.
"Except when you're off fucking Tuck and Andrew," I mutter under my breath.
"Hey. That sounded a lot like judgment."
I turn to her, contrite. "I'm sorry. I'm not judging you. In fact, I like Tuck. And frankly I think you two should quit messin' around and admit you really like each other." This shuts her up. She knows I'm right. "I was just sayin' that you both have guys going down there. That's all."
"You have Cap," she hedges.
I raise my eyebrows. "I don'thavehim. We're just friends. You're gonna end up with Tuck, Tina will be with Andrew, and Sam will find some girl to hook up with and I'll be up alone in my room ordering expensive room service and movies."
Carl puckers her mouth like she always does when she's thinking. "Actually Cap has been much less of a man-whore lately," she murmurs contemplatively. This catches my attention.
"How so?" I ask, trying to pretend I'm not as interested in the new direction of our conversation as I actually am.
Carl shrugs. "Well I don't know, it's not like he ever had a girlfriend or anything, but he sure hooks up a lot. Or used to anyway. He hasn't had a regular since Kendall graduated last year, but I mean, you see him at parties. Do you see him going upstairs with Lisa or Sarah or any of the other easy girls? I certainly haven't heard of his exploits from Tuck lately."
"Is that something he usually does? Hook up with a lot of random girls?" I ask, surprised. I'm not naive, I know a guy like Sam probably gets around somewhat, surely he's not celibate, but I haven't observed any of the kind of behavior Carl is describing.
"Um,yeah.They all do. Even Andy did before he and Tina got together. In fact, that's how they started, as a random hook-up. And I mean, just friends or not, you're not blind, you see Cap. Tuck's more my type, but even I have to admit, Cap is fucking gorgeous. Every time I look over at the front row in calc, I think I’ve been transported to a GQ photoshoot!"
We both giggle. Carl is right. Of course Sam hooks up. I don't know why I haven't thought about it before. And if he's been more discreet about it as of late, I've no idea the reason, but I'm grateful not to have to witness it. Even if he's been more than clear that we're only friends, I have to admit, at least to myself, that I'd rather not witness hisexploits, as Carl so eloquently referred to them.
I pick up the single one piece that is neither too revealing, nor makes me look like a grandmother, and set it aside.
"That's not all you're getting," Carl says matter of factly.
I give her a look that says "wanna bet?"
"Come on, Rory! Flaunt, remember?"
My muscles tense in frustration. Maybe this whole trip is a bad idea. Even with the sarongs and cover ups I've selected, there's no way I'll feel comfortable in beach gear. And really, what am I going to do when everyone else is hooking up? Even if Sam doesn't find some random hook-up, Chelsea will be all over him, and with my friends all spoken for...
