Gorgeous. Part 6

"Yeah," I said, feeling shaky though not really nervous. Why would I be nervous? "She's great, but opinionated."

"If you say so," Roxie said doubtfully. "Seems to me like the cheese has blown completely off her cracker."

I laughed. "You think?"

"No doubt," Roxie said seriously. "So, swear you won't tell, even her?"

"I swear I won't tell Jade or anybody else what you are about to tell me," I said. My heart was pounding hard, though I totally didn't feel worried about keeping her secret. I'm not good at much, but I really can keep a secret.

"We didn't move to the suburbs because of gardening."

"Okay," I said. Sweat was starting to soak my forehead.

"We moved because of me," she whispered, leaning back to look at the sky.

I took another sip of the crude oil in my cup and tried to calm myself down. What was going on with me?

"I didn't get into high school," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" I took off my sweatshirt jacket and sat there sweating and shaking like a junkie in my tank top. Luckily Roxie was staring at the sky, so she didn't notice.

She smiled, but not her normal happy smile-a tight, sad smile. "Private school, right? I went to a K-through-eight, so in eighth grade you have to apply out. I was, like, whatever, not stressed, you know? I mean, my parents know everybody and obviously I wasn't going to Brearley or whatever, but..."

She kept talking about schools I had never heard of as if anybody would know why you would roll your eyes about one place or another. I was busy trying not to have a heart attack in the middle of traffic. Deep breaths, Deep breaths, I was telling myself, catching just bits and pieces of what she was saying, until the punch line. "Zero for eight. Not even wait-listed, and my mother is on the board there." I was telling myself, catching just bits and pieces of what she was saying, until the punch line. "Zero for eight. Not even wait-listed, and my mother is on the board there."

"That sucks."

"To put it mildly," she said. "My parents are all, like, 'It was just bad luck. Or a tough year.' A lot of the schools are like eenie-meenie-miney-moe, my mom says, and apparently I just was never moe."

"Eh," I said. "Who'd want to be moe, anyway? Moe blows."

She smiled a little. "Or maybe I'm just stupid."

"You are so not stupid!" I swabbed my face with my sweatshirt.

"Yeah, well, my former right-handed man was telling me about her cousin who got rejected from everywhere, and that everybody was all, 'It was a tough year,' but in truth it's just that the cousin was kind of dim."

"Your former right-handed man has no cheese on her cracker." I put my half-full cup down on the pavement with my shaking hands while Roxie chuckled. "Or whatever you said before. Your parents are completely right. You are so obviously smart it's ridiculous."

"I guess it's just easier to believe the bad stuff," Roxie said.

"Yeah, well," I started, knowing exactly how she felt. "Maybe you just have to get over that."

Roxie looked up at the sky. "Easy to say."

I accidentally kicked over my cup with my jiggling foot and said, "I think there's a lot of caffeine in this."

Roxie cracked up and said, "You think?" She grabbed the empty cup and tossed it into the wire trash can beside us. "Doppio macchiato!"

"Yeah," I said. "I actually have no idea what it is."

She laughed loud and hard. "It's a double shot of espresso!"

"Yeah, well, it tastes like crude oil."

"Forget Alison with one L," Roxie said, wiping tears from her eyes but still laughing. "From now on, I call you Double Shot."

"If I die of a heart attack here, don't tell my mother I got my picture taken, okay?"

She looked at me, full of concern. "You look like h.e.l.l."

"Thanks," I said.

She helped me up and we walked awhile. I started feeling better after maybe five blocks, but I kept my arm around her shoulder for a few more anyway. When we got to Grand Central Terminal, we were still ten minutes early, so we sat on the sidewalk leaning against each other.

"Thanks," Roxie said.

"For practically pa.s.sing out?"

"No," she said. "For not being all, 'You are so dumb no high school wanted you, you loser.'"

"It was easy. I don't think that." I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm glad you moved, even if you're not. What would I be doing if you'd gotten into one of those stupid private schools?"

"Not having heart palpitations on the sidewalk?" she offered. "Hanging out with Jade and Hyena?"

"Serena."

"Whatever."

"Yeah," I agreed. "So, lucky for me you weren't moe."

She smiled at me, that radiant smile that got her into all those toy catalogues and pajama ads. "You could totally do commercials," she said.

"Could not," I said, and then put on a fake smile and said, all cheery, "I just love fast food!" Then I laughed. "No way."

"Don't mock," she said. "You have a cool look."

"Ugh."

"Seriously," she said. "You, my friend, are cooler than the other side of the pillow."

That cracked me up until she started looking at me the way the woman at the photo shoot had, like I wasn't inside my own skin. "You have a really cool look, plus, you're gorgeous."

"Well, if I am, it cost me my cell phone."

"What did?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Come on," she said, leaning close and searching my eyes. "What cost you what?"

I sighed. "I sold my cell phone to the devil and in exchange, seven-well, maybe six-people will think I'm gorgeous. So if you think I'm gorgeous, that only leaves me five more people."

"Holy c.r.a.p," she said. "You know the devil! Really?"

"Obviously not really. That's the dream I had the other night. Weird, right? The devil was in my bedroom. Wonder what my ex-shrink would say about that!"

"So was it real or a dream, then?"

"Come on, Roxie," I said, feeling like an idiot for not realizing she'd obviously been teasing me.

"What?" she asked, all innocent and big-eyed.

"You don't actually believe in the devil and neither do I. Obviously."

"I don't know," she said with great seriousness, turning to face me. "My father believes in G.o.d, my mother believes in me, the Fascist believes I actually read all seven Harry Potter books, and everybody I know in this city believes I got into Dalton but that my parents had a midlife crisis that involved peat moss and sod. So who's got a lock on what's real?"

I wasn't sure what to think about all that, so I just said, "Okay."

She shrugged, agreeing, and then asked, "Doesn't the devil usually make deals for your soul?"

"I don't have one, apparently."

"Awesome," Roxie said. "Think he'd want my cell phone too?"

I laughed. "If he shows up again, I'll ask."

"Thanks!" She looked genuinely excited, her bright blue eyes all sparkly. "But about me not getting in anywhere..."

"I will never tell anyone your secrets, Roxie."

She smiled, until her cell phone rang. She grabbed it, cursed, and picked up. "No!" she said into it, jumping up and dashing toward the door. "We're at Grand Central, but..."

I looked up the clock. It was 2:53.

"Okay. Yup, yup," she said, zigzagging through the crowds. "Track seventeen. We'll be on it. Okay. Sorry, Mom!"

When she flipped her phone closed she shook her head and said, "See what I mean? Total airhead, and she still believes in me. Nuts, right?"

"That must be weird," I said, and surprised myself when my voice cracked.

Luckily Roxie didn't seem to notice.

We slumped against each other the whole way home, listening to Roxie's iPod with one earbud each. Jenny dropped me at the curb, and I walked up the driveway feeling more okay than usual, despite the fact that I'd ingested more caffeine than in the rest of my life combined and also that I had just cut school and gone into the city without permission. Normally, any of those things would have me jumping out of my skin. Instead I was practically humming.

Then I saw that Mom's car was already in our driveway.

I stood there paralyzed for a few seconds, feeling the best day of my year drain away fast. I am so busted, I am so busted, I told myself. I told myself.

Think!

Think like the cat burglar you are.

There was a trellis leading up the side of the house, covered in rose vines but still climbable. I dropped my backpack in the bushes and headed toward it, hoping I wouldn't fall off the roof at the top before Quinn could let me in through her window.

8.

BANGING ON Q QUINN'S window unbalanced me, and I thought for a moment there that I was about to fall off the roof and splat to my death on the front walk. As I teetered, I had time to wonder if Tyler Moss would come to my funeral, and if Jade would give a speech talking about the depth of our friendship. window unbalanced me, and I thought for a moment there that I was about to fall off the roof and splat to my death on the front walk. As I teetered, I had time to wonder if Tyler Moss would come to my funeral, and if Jade would give a speech talking about the depth of our friendship.

I clutched onto the shutter until Quinn whipped open the window and yanked me into her room, criticizing me in her whispery voice before my feet even hit the red rug.

I tried to explain to her that we'd missed the train, but she was interrupting me all over the place, and then I noticed that Phoebe, of all people, was standing there staring at me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, really accusing Quinn, though. Leave it to Quinn to go blabbing about me when I confide in her, I was thinking. When I never would tell any of her secrets, especially not to Phoebe, who obviously knew something, because right away she asked if I'd cut school.

Fine, I decided. I decided. Screw it. Screw it. So I told her where I'd gone. She was shocked, which was kind of adorable, especially when she asked me why we'd gone into the city all by ourselves, like we were ducklings or something. So I told her where I'd gone. She was shocked, which was kind of adorable, especially when she asked me why we'd gone into the city all by ourselves, like we were ducklings or something.

I told her we had gone to become fashion models.

Her face was priceless. Trying so hard not to betray the fact that she knew there was no way I could ever be anything of the kind, Phoebe puzzled that for a few seconds before rearranging her lovely features into a radiant smile and saying, "No, but really. Why did you go into the city?"

I had to laugh. She was right not to believe it. The devil in my bedroom was a more plausible occurrence than me trying to be a fashion model. "Yeah, thanks," I said, and, when she looked sorry and about to correct my (actually correct) impression of her disbelief, continued, "Ugh. Don't even ask. You try to do a friend a favor and you end up getting your picture taken by a bunch of creeps with fake English..."

I didn't get to finish because Quinn was freaking out that I'd gotten my picture taken. Like it mattered anyway. To change the subject I asked what they were doing.

It turned out Phoebe hadn't canceled her graduation party after all, and the invitations to it had just come in the mail. And even worse, Mom's check for the deposit had bounced, so our financial situation was about to become the talk of the town.

Poor Phoebe was practically shaking.

And Quinn, the tighta.s.s, was just making her feel worse.

I told Phoebe I'd help her get money, and she looked so grateful I couldn't help hugging her. Poor thing, she had no idea how to handle friendship stress or any kind of stress-everything had always fallen into place for her. Must be nice to be the baby of the family, Must be nice to be the baby of the family, I thought. I was the baby for just over a year but didn't know enough as an infant to take full advantage of the situation. I thought. I was the baby for just over a year but didn't know enough as an infant to take full advantage of the situation.

Surprisingly my generous offer didn't perk Phoebe right up; she started to do that trembling-lip thing she does when she cries that could just break your heart (if you had one; mine, I figured, was probably on vacation in Tahiti with my soul; but still, even I felt a little bad for her).

The three of us all scooted into Quinn's gigantic closet and sat on her chaotic mess of stuff. I tried not to look around too much. How can a person who is so perfect in every other way be such a slob? Little by little Phoebe coughed up the rest of the story-her friends, basically, were dumping her.

I promised Phoebe we'd come up with the money she needed for her party, but Quinn was all like, No way, you can't, Mommy and Daddy will never let you No way, you can't, Mommy and Daddy will never let you, blah blah blah. She was totally destroying Phoebe, right there in the closet, breaking her into little bits. I couldn't believe it. Usually I was the nasty one.

Of course, Phoebe just lumped me right in there with Quinn's meanness despite my (probably creaky from disuse) sweet generosity, and stomped out of the closet, out of Quinn's room, cursing and slamming doors behind her as she went.

I turned to Quinn to ask her why she was being so awful to Phoebe, but got a dose of it for myself before I had a chance.