“Couldn’ t you get excommunic ated for talking to me?” I said, feeling grateful nonethe less. She was the first person who’d spoken to me all night. I took a sip of my drink. It tasted like the apples had already turned. Weird. Mrs. Appleby was nothing if not a perfectionist. “Yes, but I have my excuses all lined up,” she r eplied, talking out of the side of her mouth. “First, it’s the holidays, and talking to you is a form of charity.” “Gee, thanks,” I said. “And second, I’m drunk,” Shannen added, lifting her cup in a toast. My lips pursed. “Is that what I taste? Did you spike this?” Shannen shrugged. “What’s Sunday dinner without a little smuggled alcohol?” I bit my tongue to ke ep from rattling off the ten things wrong with her logic, not wanting to browbeat the one person who had acknowledged my existence. Other than Jake and his nod. “You should have some. Drown your sorrows,” she said. “What sorrows?” I asked. She took a de ep breath and turned toward me, resting her shoulder against the shelves now. “You know, it’s the holidays . . . your dad is MIA. . . .” My throat completely closed of f. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, sometimes I wish my father would disappear ,” she joked. “But do you ever wonder where he is . . . where he’s living . . . whether he’ s working?” “Of course I do,” I said, telling myself she was just making conversation. That she wasn’t trying to be mean. She couldn’ t know what it actually felt like, the not knowing. How whenever someone brought it up, it was like they’d attached a vacuum hose to my heart and hit the “maximum suckage” button. “Did your dad ever work in a service job? Like as a waiter or anything?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “What? I don’ t know. Why?” I asked, my pulse racing. She shrugged and turned to face the room again. “No reason. I just sometimes wonder where a person like that ends up.” I took a shaky breath and sipped my cider, then spit it back into the cup when I remembered there was alcohol in it. What the hell was this line of questioning about? I felt an intense need to change the subject but couldn’ t
think of a single thing to talk about, what with all the emotional trauma. My gaze immediately traveled to Jake, the one remotely friendly face in the room. “So, what do you think of our Jake?” Shannen asked, as if reading my mind. I started. The girl was seriously fraying my nerves. “Why? Did he say something about me?” Shannen frowned thoughtfully . “No. I just thought you might have formed an opinion about the guy who now lives in your room. Why? Should he have said something about you?” Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Faith slipping through the side door that led to the conservatory . I took it as a good excuse to bail. “I’ll be right back,” I told Shannen. I set my drink on the booksh elf and took off after Faith, knowing Shannen would think I was rude, but not caring. The conservatory was cool and quiet, the glass walls surrounding the grand piano looking out over Mrs. Appleby’ s prize rose garden. Faith stood in the center of the room, fiddling with her cell. “Faith,” I whispered. Her hand flew to her throat. When she saw it was me she grimaced. “God! You scared the hell out of me,” she said in full voice. Then she looked me up and down. “Where’d you get that outfit? W almart?” I chose to let the comment roll of f my back. “Can we talk?” Faith crossed her arms over her chest. Her long blond hair was back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore a pink party dress with cap sleeves and a black sash around the waist. “Why? So you can call me a bitch again?” she asked. “No. I’m sorry about that,” I said. I ran my fingertip along the music stand where Chloe used to practice her flute. “I just . . . you’re so different,” I said, trying to sound diplomatic. “I guess I was just shocked.” “Different how?” she asked, her eyes like slits. “Oh, you mean because I have a life? Because I’m not just following you around like some puppy dog?” I blinked in surprise. “Y ou never followed me around like a puppy dog.” “Whatever . You loved the fact that you were more popular than me. That you got to bring me along to parties I wasn’t exactly invited to, like I was some orphan you were helping out. That you and Chloe and Shannen were
like a little threesome,” she said, lifting a hand. “Well, guess what? There’s a new threesome now . And we don’ t need a fourth.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t understand why you have to be so mean,” I said. “I thought we were friends.” She pulled her head back, and for a second, I saw her. The old Faith. My friend who was sweet and kind and cared about other people’ s feelings. “Yeah, well, friends don’t just disappear in the middle of the night and never call,” she said. “Friends don’ t desert each other .” “But it wasn’ t my fault. And I’m sorry I didn’ t call. I—” Faith took a st ep toward me. “It doesn’t matter. Your father stole from us. He broke up my family .” “Wait, what? Y our parents are—” “Getting divorced? Yeah. Thanks to you,” Faith spat. “That’s what happens when your dad loses all my dad’s money. But instead of blaming your father, my mother blamed mine, so here we are. One more statistic. Do you know what it’s like having to explain to my brothers why my dad’s moving out? To listen to my mom crying in the middle of the night? I wish you’d never existed. You and your entire family. I wish you’d never come back here.” My hands shook. Okay. Apparently coming in here after her was a bad idea. I had no idea her parents were splitting up. Here I’d thought I’d be able to make up for everything with a simple apology , but I’d had no clue how much she’d been hurting. “I’m . . . I’m sorry . I—” “What’s going on in here?” We both turned around to find Chloe and her mother framed in the doorway . Chloe wore a dark green velvet dress and pearls, while her mother looked very First Lady in a crisp white blouse with puffed sleeves and a slim black skirt. “Allyson. How nice to see you,” she greeted me politely . “Faith. You both know, however , that we aren’t allowed in the conservatory unattended.” I glanced at Faith, and for a split second she forgot to be a bitch and started to smile. We’d never been allowed anywhere in this house unattended, but that’s what we always were. It was a long-standing joke. But just as quickly as it had come, the smile was gone. “Sorry, Mrs. Appleby ,” Faith said, tucking her phone away. She slipped past Chloe and her mom back into the library .
“Allyson?” Mrs. Appleby said. I ducked my head and followed Faith. Chloe didn’t bother to move out of my way, so her mother had to turn sideways for me to get by. Unbelievable. No matter how hard I tried with these people, they were never going to give me an inch.
“Dude, Ally Ryan looks hot again tonight,” Trevor said as we walked into the dining room. There was one huge table running the length of the vast room, with at least fifty place settings. “Yeah, too bad I never got a chance to tap that,” T odd added. They laughed and slapped hands. I swallowed my disgust. “Don’t be a jackass,” Hammond said, buttoning his jacket as he came up behind us. We all looked at him, confused. Hammond had never scolded anyone for anything, especially not sex talk. “What?” he said, pausing. “There are parents all over the place. Get a life.” He moved off to join Chloe and her family near the huge Christmas tree at the head of the table, where a professional photographer was going to snap a family photo. Ke eping one eye on Ally, who was slowly making her way along the opposite side of the table, I glanced at the place cards. Mrs. Appleby liked to mix kids and adults. She put everyone near people they wouldn’ t ever talk to, like her parties were some kind of experiment. Who was I going to spend the night making tortured small talk with? Finally I spotted my name. I was between Mrs. Moore and Mr. Shale. Great. Mrs. D epressed and Mr. Loud. I glanced around and saw Ally’s name on the next card. Instant excitement. I looked over my shoulder at Mrs. Appleby , made sure no one else was watching, then quickly switched Ally’s card with Mr. Shale’s. Then I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets. I had just broken a major Crestie rule. No one messed with Mrs. Appleby’ s order of things. “If everyone would please take their seats!” Mrs. Appleby announced, ringing her obnoxious little dinner bell. I sat, watching out of the corner of my eye as Ally came around the end of the table, still searching for her place. When she found it, she looked at me and blushed. As she slipped into her seat, her arm grazed mine. She was