Turn the Tables Page 8

  But I draw the line. “No, no jewelry. I let you play dress up and I’ll wear these shoes of torture to please you, but no jewelry!”

  “Perfume?”

  “No perfume either unless it repels people,” I snort. Staring in the mirror, I barely recognize myself.

  With all her tools, Katrina coaxes my hair into a messy bun that looks stylish and messy at the same time. I don’t want to know how many pins are in my hair. She applies mascara and eyeliner without giving me a raccoon-like look.

  The gown she puts me in is unlike any dress I’ve ever worn. First, it’s floor-length. Second, it’s red. The silk organza ball gown is strapless, and I get worried it’s not going to stay up. The bodice is fitted, but the sweetheart neckline, with its wrapped bodice, helps hold the dress up. I’m not sure how Katrina got my size so perfectly, but it’s borderline scary how well the dress fits. The crimson fabric is patterned so that it looks like shadows are flickering over the gown.

  “I look like I have boobs,” I say in distress, not sure how I feel about it.

  “You have a pretty figure, girl. Live it up,” Katrina says, checking her black silk sheath gown covered in silvery tulle. “You look angelic and devilish all at once.”

  I’m not sure what the shoes I’m wearing are made of, but they’re strapless and may be encrusted with diamonds. I try not to think about it and sincerely hope I don’t break my ankles.

  “Let’s go down and greet our guests,” she says as if she’s a lady of a manor. “You have to help me receive guests.”

  As we start walking, I fidget. “How in the world am I supposed to walk in these shoes?” I hiss.

  Katrina teaches me how to go down the stairs in a gown – thereby saving my neck – and it’s harder than it looks. Katrina does it gracefully. I feel like I’m walking with a wet diaper wrapped around me. But halfway down the stairs, I stop looking at the steps and realize we have an audience.

  Lucas, Mason, and Brock are staring at me as if they’ve never seen me before. Oliver flickers a glance my way but seems less enthralled. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I shift awkwardly under the boys’ scrutiny. The boys are dressed to the nines in tuxes. They look good in tuxes.

  “What do you think, boys? Does she look good enough to eat?” Katrina asks to my horror.

  Brock responds first. “She absolutely does,” he practically purrs, taking my hand first. I yank it away quickly.

  “Elena, you look stunning,” Elizabeth says warmly, hugging me. “I hope you don’t mind the dress. I knew it would be perfect on you,” she whispers before she lets me go.

  Edgar smiles in a crooked, but charming way. “How’s life at Highbury?”

  Only I feel Brock stiffen beside me. “It’s interesting,” I say honestly. “The food is good.”

  This makes Edgar laugh. “Let me introduce you to some of your friends’ parents. Elizabeth’s furious that I am mixing business with pleasure here.” He pulls me away, and murmurs, “They won’t know you’re Pete’s daughter and I won’t mention it. Most of them knew your father personally.”

  One glance over my shoulder assures me that Katrina is smiling, Brock is following at a distance, Mason is confused, Lucas is staring, and Oliver looks lost.

  Brock is immediately by my side when I meet Henry Caruso. “Ah, this your scholarship girl, Edgar?” Henry says under bushy eyebrows. Brock should hope that he ages more gracefully because Henry looks his age. The older Caruso scans me from head to toe.

  “This is Elena Kano,” Edgar introduces smoothly in a neutral voice. “You should hear her play the piano. I hear she’s magnificent.”

  “Is that so?” Henry glances at his son. “And what do you think, Brock, of her playing?”

  Brock's hand is at my elbow. “She’s good.”

  “Would you like to play with me sometime, Elena?” Something about the way Henry Caruso speaks gives me the creeps.

  “I’m sure I’m nowhere near as talented as you,” I say, wondering who just took over my mouth. “I would be too embarrassed to play properly.” Dear God, Highbury Academy has turned me into a liar.

  My words please Henry far too much. “I like that, I like that very much.”

  When Edgar takes me to meet the Changs, Henry pulls Brock into a private conversation. The Changs are mercifully less interested in me and more interested in drinks. But when I’m about to meet Lucas’s father, Lucas surprises us by introducing me himself.

  “Father, this is Elena Kano,” Lucas says, but I notice he avoids staring directly at his father. Instead, his eyes seem to focus sight to the left. “We’re in several classes together.”

  Michael Rhodes is a rougher cut of his son. They’re similarly tall, but his jawline is broader and more rugged. There’s a faint softness to his shape – love handles are the bane of older people, after all – and he’s heavier. The silver in his hair is harder to see because he’s fairer than his son, but their eyes are the same. That hard, gray color that hints at a certain amount of cruelty.

  “Ah, Edgar’s pet project,” he says in a bored voice, but his eyes evaluate me intently. “You obviously clean up well.”

  I think my brows shoot up before I can school my expression into something mundane. “The miracles of showers,” I think I say, mentally kicking myself.

  Even Lucas darts a surprised look at me, and I see his jaw twitch.

  Mr. Rhodes tilts his head. “Lucas fell to second place at the school this year.” His hard eyes are full of displeasure. He takes one step towards me. “Edgar tells me that you’re in first.” Lucas’s wide eyes flicker.

  Names and associated rankings are anonymous until you graduate. That’s when the school reveals the valedictorian and salutatorian. Not realizing that I’ve bumped Lucas from the top spot, I’m uneasy. Do I lie or tell the truth?

  “I’m not sure how that could be known,” I begin, “as I thought that was confidential. We’re identified by a six-digit code.” But even as I say it, I’m certain that people like Michael Rhodes have their way of finding out.

  “Edgar wanted to be sure his charity case was up to par so I think he checked specifically,” Michael Rhodes practically sneers.

  “I’m doing my best to focus on my studies and live up to expectations. I wouldn’t want to waste the generosity or opportunity. Then again, my poor education before Highbury Academy is so obvious that I wonder how I survive at all.” Again, Lucas’s used to me clamming up at this point so my reply shocks him even further.

  “Try not to be so disappointing, Lucas. If she can do it, so can you.” Michael Rhodes straightens his tux and suddenly smiles. “Elizabeth, you look exquisite!”

  Lucas maneuvers me away as soon as his father walks off. “Who are you and what you have done with Elena?” he says, but his gaze lingers on my shoulders. I need a jacket.

  When we get back to the Elite boys and Katrina, Brock has a decidedly sour expression. Mason takes one look at Lucas’s face and says, “Come on, we can go over to the sunroom before the party really begins.”

  Mason grabs two bottles of cold champagne and Katrina snags four flutes. The adults in the area don’t even blink. Wow.

  In the sunroom, all four boys slump into the chairs. Suddenly, watching old movies with John doesn’t seem lame at all.

  “Why did you want me to come to this party, Katrina?” I ask as Mason pops the champagne. Because of the dress, I don’t even know if I can sit down.

  “Because otherwise, I get stuck with these guys by myself.” Katrina tries to look innocent.

  Brock takes a glass of champagne. “If my father ever invites you to his studio, don’t go, for God’s sake.”

  “I figured that one out on my own.” I sigh noisily.

  “Shit, I’ve never heard you talk so much,” Mason exclaims, dark blue eyes pinned on me.

  “She even talked to my father,” Lucas groans, eyes closed.

  When Katrina offers me champagne, I shake my head. Oliver cocks his head at me. “Miss
Goody Two-Shoes doesn’t drink either, I see,” he mocks.

  “Cut it, Ollie,” Mason snaps, his expression darkening. Mason drinks straight from the bottle. Lovely.

  “Last time I took something from someone, it was drugged,” I snap right back. “I don’t drink. Get over it. If you don’t have anything intelligent to say, keep your mouth shut.”

  Brock gapes. “Who are you and what did you do with Elena Kano?” he blurts.

  Lucas opens an eye. “I asked her the same thing.”

  I shrug, blaming the dress. I sit down, trying to adjust the skirts of my dress so it doesn’t wrinkle. Brock sits next to me, downing half his glass of champagne. “You are a vision tonight, Elena.” He hums a tune as he runs a finger down my cheek. “I get your first dance.”

  “Think again. This is my family’s party,” Mason retorts. “Dance with my sister. I’ll dance with Elena first.”

  Katrina shrieks and smacks Mason’s arm.

  “I’m happy sitting,” I say, shifting out of Brock’s reach.

  “Who would you choose, Elena? To dance with first.” Lucas sits up, leaning towards me as he waits for my answer with unnerving intensity.

  Katrina isn’t any help. She’s just grinning and drinking champagne. “I’d dance with Katrina,” I decide.

  Mason bursts into laughter, but Lucas slowly smiles at me. He pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket. “Your Christmas present, Elena,” he says, pulling me to my feet.

  I open the box and there’s a diamond necklace inside. A coldness settles in me when I stare at it. I hear Katrina gasp and Brock swears. Lucas reaches to remove the necklace, but I take a few steps back. I close the jewelry box. “I can’t accept this,” I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

  “Yes, you can.” Lucas gives me a cocky smile.

  I hold the box out. “No. I don’t want it.”

  Brock and Mason come to flank Lucas, whose face grows cold. “Why not? It’s a gift. I got it for you.”

  If I could shake with rage, I would. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want your jewelry. I don’t want anything from any of you. I don’t accept handouts. Don’t insult me by thinking you can buy my compliance.” When Lucas refuses to take the box, I step towards him so that we’re toe-to-toe. I put the box back in his pocket.

  “You’ll take handouts from the Mavericks but not from me?” Lucas demands.

  I slap him. Not hard, but I still slap him. And then I retreat behind my façade of emptiness. “I am not an Elite. I never want to be an Elite. And I don’t want to be decorated like one.” My voice is perfectly flat.

  “That might be a record for how quickly you guys screwed up,” Katrina says, shaking her head. “You still don’t get it. You can’t buy her, and you can’t tell her to do what you want.”

  “She thinks she’s better than us,” Oliver sneers. “In some dress, coming to our school—”

  “Shut up, Oliver,” Brock growls, pushing at his friend. “Leave her alone.”

  Lucas closes his eyes briefly, and just like that, he leaves the room

  I learn that only Ashley and Astrid come to the party. Vanessa is in some country that starts with an S and Kiana has the flu. I don’t miss their presence. Just as the festivities begin, Henry Caruso insists on singing a Christmas song. People laugh and clap, and then Henry Caruso asks me to play on the piano alongside him.

  I attempt to decline, but he drags me out of the crowd, putting his arm around my waist in a weird way. What is up with groping guys? Brock’s distressed as Henry yanks me to his side and asks if I know how to play a certain song. His breath smells of alcohol, so I wiggle away before his hands wander. I scan the crowd nervously. The Mavericks are smiling, but Mason’s brow tells me he’s worried. Lucas’s rigid posture and tense jaw indicate that he’s unhappy with me getting hauled up here. Join the club, Lucas.

  I carefully arrange my skirt, my fingers resting on the piano keys. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, the world fades and my ears wait for the music to start. As Henry starts strumming his guitar, the notes dance in my head, and my fingers fly, anticipating the next notes. I’ve never been able to explain what it feels like to play like this, but I don’t even have to think. It just comes to me. When the song is over, we stand and Henry pulls me to his side and gives my cheek a wet kiss. I manage to smile, but I swear I think his hands linger near my ribs much too long. Brock’s face is a mix of anger, disgust, and jealousy as Henry vocally lauds my playing. I’m shaking a little with inner rage by the time he lets me go.

  Edgar starts the dance music and Mason is there to claim my first dance. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a tension in his body that I’m not used to. His eyes flicker over the audience like he expects something to happen. Brock is next. He’s also quiet, scanning me as if he’s looking for some injury, some imperfection. When I finally dance with Lucas, I avert my gaze, still feeling annoyed about the necklace. If he’s still offended, he doesn’t show it. His moves are purposeful and practiced as if he dances like this all the time. When the song ends, Lucas has maneuvered me under a mistletoe. The adults around us laugh and clap as Lucas brushes my cheek with his lips. Mason watches the spectacle with a frown.

  The rest of the evening, I dance with Katrina until it’s time to return home.

  CHAPTER 10

  The highlight of the break is my visit with Mom. I read to her until my voice grows hoarse. We take short walks because it’s not incredibly cold, and she tells me she misses playing in the snow. She says my name and recognizes me. But after a few hours, the strain becomes obvious. When she becomes agitated, John and I leave, but I’m still happy.

  I’m puzzled by the Elite girls when I return to school. They continue their distance, occasionally throwing insults my way, but I’m not pushed or harassed the way that I was. I begin to think I may survive the year after all.

  Ms. Waldorf asks me to play at the second-year concert for families. It occurs on the last day of school, which is staggered for each grade. I learn from Katrina that the last few days are a mix of parties and events. Each year gets a separate event. Fourth-years go first, third-years are next, etcetera. When I mention this to John, he promises to drive up to see me play and take me home personally.

  Valentine’s Day rolls around and I receive roses from Katrina, Lucas, Mason, Brock, Oliver, Bruce, and Charles. Trust me, I agree that it’s weird. The proceeds of the rose sales go to charity, so I accept the flowers even if I get baleful looks from the Elite girls. Katrina receives flowers from the Elite boys as well – she’s Mason’s sister, after all – but she also gets several from Bruce, and those are the ones she keeps. Katrina and I exchange chocolates and we spend the weekend devouring them.

  For music class, Brock and I compose a song together for a project. Naturally, Brock sings and plays the guitar, while I accompany him on the piano. He seems less of a jerk when he’s strumming his guitar, but I never let down my guard.

  Mason, on the other hand, starts to show up when I go to the pool. He’s gone from time to time on weekends attending swim meets so I still get my privacy. On occasion, he races me from one end to the other – he always wins, but I get faster each time.

  The Elites continue to throw select parties, but I avoid them. I’m not over what Ben Summers did, and I’m not over being trapped in a burning shed. Do I want vengeance? Sometimes. Right now, I’m just enjoying the peace.

  I write a new song I call “Hope.” It takes me a while to pen the right words, but eventually, they come. The song talks about being dragged down, about unspoken sacrifices. In my chorus, I sing about the light everyone needs, the hope we need to feel to go from one day to the next. I write a few lines that talk about my feelings, about wanting to belong to something instead of always being on the outside.

  Brock and I are looking at our joint composition one day when his agent shows up. We haven’t found the right way to end the piece. Brock gives me an apologetic smile as he jumps of
f the stage to talk to his agent. At one point, I see Brock pull out his cell phone and show something to the man. I remain at the piano, playing softly while they talk.

  Brock jogs over to me. “Hey, I need to get something for Lance. I’ll be right back, okay?” He flashes me a charming smile when I nod.

  I play a bit more while he’s gone until I see that the agent is watching me speculatively. “Lance Bell,” he says, introducing himself. I shake his hand.

  “Brock says you play like a goddess. I’ve seen his video of it.”

  Yikes. “Thanks,” I say instead.

  He hands me his business card. “If you ever think about wanting to do an album, there’s a niche market for talent like yours. I’d be happy to get you in touch with the right people.”

  Not wanting to be rude, I pocket the card. “Thanks. I’m pretty happy playing casually.”

  “If only you could sing, you’d be pure gold.” He nods at me as Brock returns. He must’ve run both ways because he looks a little sweaty. Brock hands a drive to Lance before the man takes off.

  “Hey, what’d you two talk about?” Brock asks me after Lance leaves.

  “He says it’s too bad I don’t sing.”

  “Have you tried to sing? Maybe you have a natural talent for it.”

  I stop playing and keep my head lowered. “I’m good where I’m at right now,” I say softly. “We can’t all have a voice like yours.”

  “Ah, flattery will get you everywhere,” Brock teases, bending down to look me in the eye. “Especially with me. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

  Lucas and I begin to work on math jointly since Highbury encourages collaboration. “I’ve completed problems one, three, seven, and nine,” I report to Lucas.