Fresh Off the Boat (20 page)

We each left with tie-neck polka-dot blouses, embroidered cardigan sweaters with mink collars, and a pair of 40s-style Mary Jane shoes.

But no Soirée dress.

Nothing. We came up empty. We just couldn’t find the Dress. They were all too short or too long, too big or too tight. Or not Gallic enough. It seemed a completely hopeless enterprise. Until the day before the Soirée, when I suddenly got a
brilliant
idea…

This time Isobel took the train all the way out to the suburbs to visit me at Sears, and I had fun showing her all the cool things about my job. She couldn’t believe there was so much food at our cafeteria—and that she could eat anything she wanted. She stuffed herself full of pastrami sandwiches, and I even taught her how to work the register. She gave everybody a cheerful
“Bonjour”
when they walked in. After we closed up
shop, we took the bus to my house.

“Your house is so cute,” she said. “I love all the patio furniture in the living room.
C’est très avant-garde!
”

I grinned, happy that Isobel didn’t think we were freaks. I didn’t mention that plastic furniture was all that we could afford.

“Come on up,” I said, and took her to my room. “I have something for you.”

I pulled it out of the closet and showed her.

“Do you think you can maybe do something with this?” I asked.

An hour later, Isobel put on the DRESS.

“You look gorgeous,” I told her.

“You think?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“It’s
insane
.”

She was wearing the same dress Mom had bought me to wear to the Soirée but with a few Isobel-style variations. She had made dozens of vertical slashes in the hem, so instead of three proper layers, there was just one crazy explosion of tulle. And she had moved the butt bow, sewing it in a crossover style on the front bustline. It was crazy, kooky, wild, and very French. It looked perfect on her.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked.

“No, it’s a gift. Take it.”

“I can’t believe that all this time you owned this amazing dress!”

“Well, actually, my mom picked it out.”

The last day of break, Isobel and I went to see Claude play lacrosse in the final championship. Since he passed geometry for the first semester, he was off academic probation and back on the team. I’d gotten my own grades in the mail, and was happy to see I passed geometry I with a B. Dad joked that it ruined the perfect pattern of my straight A’s, but I was relieved to have kept my scholarship. We saw Tess, Freddie’s girlfriend, in the stands and went up to sit next to her. I guessed she was there to see Freddie, who was still managing the team.

“GO WILDCATS!!!” Isobel cheered, waving her orange-and-blue pom-poms wildly.

Claude looked up and waved when he saw us in the bleachers.

It was kind of weird not to be in love with him anymore. It left me feeling a little empty, since there was no one to fantasize about. No more writing my name with his in my notebooks or wondering if our kids would inherit his nose and my hair color. But it was gratifying to see how happy he and Isobel were. She said she would even teach him how to hold his liquor. She was French, so she knew all about that.

A thunderous cheer exploded from the opposing side. The St. Stephen team was running up the field, passing the ball between them expertly, and the forward shot the ball straight for the Montclair net. It flew in an arc, and seemed a sure hit. The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers when the Wildcats goalie caught it just in time.

“Good save!” Isobel bellowed. “GOOOO, FRED!!!!”

“Fred?” I asked.

“Yeah, your friend Fred? He’s on the team.”

“As like, the towel boy, duh.”

“What are you talking about?” She shot me an incredulous look. “He’s the goalie.”

I looked up at the field doubtfully. Freddie? The goalie who just executed that magnificent save? At halftime, the goalie took off his mask, and it was definitely Freddie underneath. He really was on the team. He was a Montclair jock all along, and actually deserved to wear that varsity jacket.

Freddie waved at us and Claude clapped him on the shoulder, handing him a Styrofoam cup of water.

“Claude said he’d been having problems with his knee so he’s been on the bench all season, managing the team,” Isobel told me.

Later, Freddie told me that the reason he was so secretive about his girlfriend was because his parents hadn’t wanted him to date before college, and he didn’t want me blabbing to my
parents about his love life. But they had finally come around to accepting Tess, the beauty queen. Apparently no one was ever good enough for their son, but after he threatened to throw away the Harvard acceptance, they had caved. Freddie and Tess and Claude and Isobel were double-dating to the Soirée.

“You know, Tuna still doesn’t have a date,” Isobel said, meaning the hulky defensive guard on the team who had carried a case of beer to Claude’s party.

“I don’t want to go with Tuna,” I said.

I knew exactly who I wished I could ask to the Soirée. But it was too late. He didn’t want anything to do with me.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SENT: Thursday, December 17, 4:32 PM

SUBJECT: bonjour!

Hi Peaches,

So this week Isobel and I—wait, I’ve told you about her haven’t I? She’s this really funny French girl that I’m really good friends with. You’d like her, P., she dresses like you. Anyway, we went to all these boutiques and department stores and thrift stores to look for a dress for Isobel to wear to the Soirée, but she just borrowed one of mine. Remember how we used to always wear each other’s clothes? Anyway, I’m not going because Claude and I broke up and I really can’t be bothered to find another date. I’ll probably just stay home and watch
Saturday Night Live
.

Love,
V

20
Elle’s All That

I
SOBEL WANTED ME
to help her get ready for the dance, so on the night of Soirée, Dad dropped me off at her house. I helped her with her hair and curled her eyelashes the way she had taught me.

“Ouch!” she said.

“You must suffer to be beautiful!” I joked.

Isobel’s mom knocked on the door. “How’s everything in there, chérie? Claude
est ici
.”

I peeked out the door and saw Claude standing in Isobel’s living room, grinning at the Eminem poster and holding a corsage. Isobel walked down the stairs as if in slow motion. When he looked up to see her, his eyes shone with admiration. I made a point of playing “Kiss Me” on Isobel’s iMac speakers as she made her entrance. I gave her the momentous
She’s All That
moment I had been wanting forever. And she hadn’t even needed a makeover—she looked exactly like she always did.
Claude pinned a bouquet on her dress and kissed her gently on the cheek. She blushed and handed him his boutonniere.

I followed her down the stairs.

“You look great,” I told her wistfully.

“V, you’re not going?” Claude asked.

“No, I don’t have a date,” I said honestly.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal—it’s just a stupid dance.” He shrugged.

“I know,” I said.

Isobel’s parents took so many digital photos they almost blinded the happy couple.

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet us at the after party?” Isobel asked wistfully.

“No, really, I’ll be okay. Go. Have fun!”

They left in a cloud of her perfume.

I said good night to the Saint-Pierre’s and walked over to the curb where Dad was waiting for me.

“Hey,” I said. “I wasn’t too long, was I?”

I opened the door and realized that my whole family was in the van to pick me up. They were all staring at me when I climbed inside. I wondered what they were all doing there. We were just turning around and driving back to the suburbs anyway.

“What?”

They were silent. Then Dad said happily, “C’mon, we’re going out to the movies! My treat!”

The line at the movie theater was filled with tons of kids my age, sticking their tongues down their boyfriends’ throats or running around in large, boisterous groups, but I didn’t notice. I waited contentedly in the ticket line with my family. They would probably embarrass me again sometime in the near future, like, say, tomorrow, but for now, I was satisfied with their company.

When the line crept forward, I noticed the boy in front of us was wearing a ratty brown work shirt. I could recognize those shoulders anywhere. He walked up to the counter. “One for the Stephen King please.”

“Paul,” I said, touching his arm.

He turned. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“As usual, hanging out with my family,” I said. “What else do I do?”

Mom looked up at the list. “Do you want to go see the fish movie? It’s the only thing Brittany can see,” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Oh, hi, Paul,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in the cafeteria much—we miss you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. A. I cut back on my hours to study for the SATs. What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Well, we’re going to go see the fish movie. But I don’t know what V is doing.”

“You didn’t get me a ticket?” I asked.

“No, I thought maybe you want to see something with Paul?”

I was in shock. Mom was actually encouraging me to hang out
alone
with a boy?

“Up to you.” Paul shrugged.

“Sure. I mean, if you and Dad don’t mind,” I said.

“Mind? Why would we mind?” She elbowed Dad. Dad shrugged. “We know Paul. Do you drive?” she asked, turning to Paul.

Paul nodded. “I brought the Batmobile.”

“You know the way home. He can take you home after the movies. By eleven.”

I couldn’t believe it. Mom arranging my first date! And I wasn’t turning fifteen until next week! This was so disconcerting, except it wasn’t.

Paul went up to the ticket counter. “Can I get another please?”

I kissed Mom and Dad on the cheek, patted Brit on the head, and ran after him into the theater.

Mom had passed me a twenty-dollar bill, so we shared the most gigantic tub of the LARGEST size popcorn swimming in hot butter (or really, butter flavoring). And two medium Cokes. His hand brushed mine every time he grabbed a handful. I think it was on purpose.

“Hey, I almost forgot,” he said, between sips of Coke. “I got this for you. Have you read it yet?”

He pulled a hardcover copy of the latest Dark Tower novel out of his backpack. I’d told him I wanted to read it a while back. “Just let me finish reading it and it’s yours,” he’d told me.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” I asked.

“Well, I was a little upset you forgot about our date. But I figured, who am I to tell you what to do.”

“It was a crazy month. I’m really sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.” I looked him right in the eye. He has the nicest green eyes, a warm, yellow green that turned blue in certain light. He kind of looked like Tobey Mag—oh, forget about Tobey. He was cuter than Tobey. He was here, he was sitting next to me. He was a real boy, not one from posters on my bedroom walls.

Then he did the craziest thing. He just leaned over and kissed me. Just like that. His lips were soft and buttery. I closed my eyes and I couldn’t even breathe.

“Okay,” he said, as the house lights dimmed and the trailers rolled.

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SENT: Sunday, December 20, 12:32 AM

SUBJECT: that in-the-rain-kiss

Dear Peaches,

You know when Mary Jane discovers it’s really Peter Parker she’s in love with? That’s how I feel. Seriously. I know I say this all the time, but this time it’s TRUE. Friday night I went to the movies with this boy, and it was the best night of my life. I’ll tell you all about it later, because I really need to go to sleep now. But I hope you get to meet him sometime.

Miss you.

Love,
V

WWW.WELOVECLAUDECALIGARI.COM

Sighted! C.C. at the Winter Soirée with his new girlfriend—a French import! Just the ticket since our guy and his date were voted
roi et reine
of the ball! Congratulations, Claude! Remember the little people! Check out new pics from the after party in Marin! Members, don’t forget, dues are due next month! Until the next C.C. sighting! Ciao!

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SENT: Wednesday, December 23, 9:18 PM

SUBJECT: we WON Lotto!!!

Hi, Peaches!

So, my dad finally won the lottery yesterday! $50! We celebrated by having dinner at P. F. Chang. It’s a chain restaurant with Asian food and it’s really good! Paul is the new guy I’m seeing. He’s a stock boy at Sears, where we have our restaurant—but it’s not really a restaurant—it’s more like a cafeteria. Actually, it’s the employees’ cafeteria at Sears. BTW, did you notice
Teen Vogue
did a top-10 story of the latest looks—and nude stockings are now the “it” hue of the season.

I know my e-mails are always so short, but I promise, in the future, I’ll write you long and detailed letters.

Love,
V

Acknowledgments

I
AM DEEPLY INDEBTED
to my awesome editor, Abby McAden, who steered this book in the right direction and took me out to many delicious meals. Thanks to Lexa Hillyer, Martha Schwartz, and everyone at HarperCollins. Thanks to Jennifer Unter for seeing the potential.

I am grateful to Jennifer Kim, Treena Rivera, Karen Robinovitz, and Caroline Suh for their enduring friendship. Thanks to Tyler Rollins, Tristan Ashby, and Gabriel de Guzman for support and encouragement. Thanks to Gabriel Sandoval, Liz Craft, and Justin Manask for making the L.A. transition an easy one. Thanks also to my high school English teachers at the Convent of the Sacred Heart: Dr. Eileen Moriarty, Mr. Joel Ohren, and Mr. Charles Brady, who encouraged me from the beginning.