The Diamonds (13 page)

“That,” I said when he stopped and removed his hands, “was incredible.”

Anderson gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Glad you think so.” Then he signaled one of the salespeople behind the desk. “I'll take this one.”

Later, we walked uptown, toward Central Park. The air outside was crisp but it wasn't cold enough for gloves. We split a hot pretzel as we walked, the sun fading in tired rays across the sky.

Around Columbus Circle, we went into the park, shuffling down strips of pavement, surrounded by walls of wiry branches and leaves beginning to color red and yellow around the edges. Up ahead, a pair of mothers pushed enormous strollers, and joggers whizzed by as
fast as taxis. When I saw an empty bench, I plopped down and dragged Anderson with me. He rested his new guitar case on the grass next to us.

We sat like that for a while, people-watching in silence. I couldn't help sneaking glances at Anderson, at the funny way he pursed his lips and the soft creases beneath his eyes. Finally, when he put his hand on my knee, I said, “So?”

“So,” he repeated.

“Here we are.”

“Yup. Here we are.”

“What are you thinking about?”

He looked at me with those eyes and I felt as though my skin were translucent and he could see everything hidden inside me.

“Oh, you know,” he said. “How pretty you look today.”

I felt myself blush. I was wearing hardly any makeup. A soft green cable-knit scarf was tied around my neck, my jacket (brown, leather) snug and zipped.

“What are
you
thinking about?”

I wanted to say:
I'm thinking about how quickly life changes, about how a few months ago I would have dreamed of a date like this with Jed and now I'm here with you
.

I wanted to say:
I'm wondering why I can't stop thinking about you, if this is even a date at all, and, if it is, why you want to date me in the first place
.

But what I said was: “What are we doing, Anderson?”

His hand was still on my knee, and I tried hard not
to move. I didn't want him to pull away. “Sitting on a bench,” he said.

“I'm serious. Why did you ask me to come with you today?”

“Because I like you, Marni. I like spending time with you.”

“You do?”

“Don't you like spending time with me?”

“Sure,” I said, “but I'm trying to figure out what's going on between us, you know? The other night at the movie theater was, well—”

“Hot?”

I rolled my eyes. “I was going to say ‘intense.’ And unexpected.”

Anderson stretched his free hand behind my ear, cupping my neck. “Look, Marni. I like you. A lot. Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes
, I thought, but I didn't say it out loud.

“It's complicated for me,” I told him. “You know how upset Clarissa would be if she ever found out I was with you today, let alone if we started, well, you know.”

“What?”

“You know,” I said, studying his face for any sign that I was misreading the situation. “Dating.”

“Marni,” Anderson said, tracing my cheek with his fingers, “not everything has to be so serious. You can't make your decisions based on what Clarissa wants.” He kissed me softly. “What do
you
want?”

It was a difficult question for me to answer. I wanted to be well-liked. I wanted to have friends who
admired me and parents who believed in me. I wanted people to think I was funny and smart and beautiful, that I was slightly mysterious and intriguing, older than I actually was. I wanted to enjoy the rest of my time at Bennington, attend a college that would allow me to try and fail, and hopefully discover a passion for my future in the process. But most of all, I wanted for someone to care about me, to want to spend time with me, to love me. Once, I had believed Jed was that person. I was wrong. But sitting there in the middle of Central Park on a school day, I truly thought that someone could be Anderson—if I let him.

“I think,” I said, “that I want to be with you. To try, at least.”

Anderson kissed me again, harder this time. “Good,” he said, “because that's exactly what I want.”

“But, Anderson,” I said, taking his hands and pressing them to my chest, “we have to keep this a secret.”

He frowned. “Clarissa is your friend, Marni. She wants you to be happy.”

“Not if that means dating you. I can't even begin to imagine how awful she would make things for me if she ever knew.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Right here,” I said, gripping his hands even tighter. “If we're smart about it, if we don't tell anyone, I mean
anyone
, and we're careful not to raise any suspicion at school, I think we could have something really special. It's worth a shot, right?”

I was shocked by my sudden confidence. Anderson
looked deep in thought; I had never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life.

“If that's really what you want,” he finally said, “then I'll do it. But at some point the truth will have to come out, Marni, and the longer we wait, the harder it will be.”

This time, I leaned over to kiss him. “Let's cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “Okay?”

He reached over to pick up his guitar. “Okay.”

We rose from the bench, and before it got too dark and too cold outside, Anderson took me home.

Later that night, I received a call from Duncan, Anderson's best friend, asking me out on a date.

“What do you
mean
you're not gonna go?”

The Diamonds were lounging in Café Bennington before first period, and Clarissa was
not
happy. With me. We were seated around a small table, bags underneath the tiny metal chairs, coffees in hand. It was the day after I'd played hooky with Anderson, and I was leafing through some notes for a math test I had to make up after school. Nicole and Stephanie's trial was later that afternoon.

Priya was wearing a poncho the color of sandalwood, threaded with specks of teal and asparagus green. Her hair was down, wet with mousse and flowing every which way. “This latte is R.E.G.,” she said.

“What does R.E.G. stand for?” asked Lili, looking the slightest bit frazzled.

“Really Effing Good,”
said Priya. “Funny, right?”

“Hysterical,” Clarissa said, rolling her eyes and sloshing her latte (soy) in its paper cup. (Clarissa was beyond lactose intolerant. “If I even
smell
milk, I start farting,” she'd once told me.)

There was something regal about her that day; I wasn't sure if it was her posture (straight), her complexion (flawless), or her outfit, which included a fantastic pair of skinny jeans and a plum collared shirt unbuttoned just enough to be risqué but not raunchy.

“Now, tell me again why you're reneging on your promise to go out with Duncan.”

“It wasn't a promise,” I said. “I'm sure Duncan will understand.”

“And
what
, pray tell, is this elusive reason
why
?”

Lili placed her drink onto the table as three freshman girls walked by. They saw us, stopped, whispered, and ran. I had to admit: inspiring fear in others was kinda fun. “Is it because of Anderson?” she asked.

If I were a cartoon, this would have been the moment my jaw unhinged and skydived to the floor. “What?”

“His band is playing at the Ghost House next Friday,” said Lili. “Duncan probably wants to go to that and you said no, right?”

“Wait,” Clarissa interjected. “Anderson has a band?”

“Apparently,” I said.

“Let me get this straight,” Priya said. “Duncan asked you out on a date to see Anderson's show, and you said no in support of Clarissa?”

Despite that being as far from the truth as possible, I nodded.

Priya swooned. “You are
such
a good friend.”

Clarissa looked at me with the kind of smile she usually reserved for when a college guy asked for her phone number. “Marni, that
is
really sweet of you. I'm touched, honestly, but you need this date. I want you to find Duncan and tell him that you'll go.”

I was about to argue with her, but then I realized that Clarissa was basically giving me her blessing to see Anderson play. If hanging out with Duncan beforehand was the only downside, I would be an idiot not to take advantage of the situation.

“If you really think I should …,” I said.

“You know,” said Priya, “I bet everyone is gonna go to Anderson's show and then to Ryan's Halloween party. They're on the same night.”

“We should all go,” Lili said. “It would be fun.”

“It doesn't sound all that appealing to me,” Clarissa said.

“I know, I know!” said Priya, raising her hand as if she were in class and (thought) she had the right answer. “We could invite guys, too. Anderson will already be there, and Duncan and Marni, so it will be, like, a quadruple date!”

“And who is
my
date supposed to be?” Clarissa asked. “I'm not exactly going to walk up to Anderson and start making out with him. We're broken up, remember?”

“You never know,” Priya said, flicking her hair back
with her fingertips. “Maybe you'll rekindle your romance at the gig.”

That might have very well been true, but this was
my
super-secret semiboyfriend we were talking about! I struggled to hide my annoyance as Clarissa finished her latte.

“I'll think about it,” she said.

Just then a white-haired girl I recognized from the first jury selection smushed her face against the glass wall, peering into Café Bennington. When she saw us, her eyes lit up; she entered timidly, at a snail's pace.

“Can we help you?” Priya asked.

Clarissa turned around. “Arlene. There you are.” She glanced at the clock hanging a few feet away. “You're three minutes late. That's unacceptable.”

“S-sorry, Clarissa,” the girl said, rocking her scrawny legs back and forth. “I walked.”

“Can't one of your parents drive you?”

Arlene shook her head. Her eyes looked watery; I wondered if she was about to cry. “They both leave early for work.”

“Well then,” Clarissa said carefully, “tomorrow you should get a taxi.” She turned her attention back to the table. “Oh, I forgot to tell you guys. I have a new personal assistant. Her name is Arlene.” She pointed to the girl. “Arlene, these are my best friends. If any of them ask you to do something, just do it, okay?”

“S-sure, Clarissa,” Arlene said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“That's disgusting.” Clarissa reached into her bag,
pulled out a tissue, and threw it at Arlene. “Do you have the files I gave you?”

“Absolutely.” Arlene took out a purple folder and handed it to Clarissa.

“That's all,” Clarissa said. “Oh, and, Arlene?”

“Yes?”

Clarissa tilted her head. “I appreciate you.” Then she pointed to the door.

“What,” Priya said once the girl had disappeared, “was that?”

“Since when do you have a personal assistant?” Lili asked.

“She came up to me the other day and wanted to help.”

I laughed. “Help what?”

“Don't be jealous,” Clarissa said.

“Believe me, I'm not.”

First period was about to start. I reached underneath my chair, grasping the handle of my bag, when Lili said, “What's this?”

In her hand was a piece of paper from Clarissa's folder. Lili examined it for a few seconds and then passed it around the table. Printed in a single row was a list of half a dozen names; I immediately recognized them as the six jurors Jenny Murphy and Eric Ericsson had originally selected.

“That,” Clarissa said once we'd all had a chance to read it, “is a list of people I want
out
of mock trial.”

Priya raised her eyebrows. “Why? They're just on the jury. It's not like they actually
do
anything.”

Lili gave Priya a crazy look. “You're not serious, are you?”

“What?”

“The jury does more than we originally thought,” Clarissa said, taking the piece of paper and laying it in front of her. “If they don't vote in our favor, then we
lose
. And we can't afford to lose.”

I cleared my throat. “Is this because of what happened on Monday?”

Fact: On Monday, we'd had our first mistrial. Due to a lack of evidence, the jury was unable to determine whether Sean Martin (junior) was guilty of two-timing his girlfriend, Lexa Roth (senior), with an unnamed redhead who attended the Friends School, another prep school on Long Island.

It wouldn't have been a big deal, except that Clarissa actually
liked
Lexa (they'd had bio together sophomore year) and had pulled out all the stops during the trial, expecting Sean to be found guilty. Sean was friends with Jenny Murphy, though, and also with some of the jury members Jenny had picked; Clarissa was convinced that his personal connections had swayed the vote. Clearly, she was upset.

“I'm not going through all the trouble of reenvisioning this mock trial team to have Jenny Murphy's lackeys mess everything up,” Clarissa said. “They've
got
to go. Then we can replace them with people we
know
will vote in our favor.”

“You do know that's, like, illegal,” I said to Clarissa, making sure I understood her correctly. “Townsen is
never going to allow you to kick people out just because you don't think they're going to vote in your favor.”

“What about kicking them out if they're fugly?” Priya asked. “Do you think he would allow that?”

“No,” said Lili. “We would need solid evidence of them, like, breaking school rules or doing something that would prove them incompetent and biased jurors. And we don't have that, because it doesn't exist.”

Clarissa smoothed the collar of her shirt with her fingers and tucked back the fiery waves of her hair. “Well,” she said, “not
yet.”

I had the feeling Clarissa was gearing up for something
huge
, but I didn't know what. While I was certainly concerned, my pending date with Duncan overshadowed my mind like thick, dark clouds on a rainy day.

I found him in the hallway before sixth period. He was wearing a light blue oxford shirt and khakis, his black-brown hair parted at the side.