Pushing Perfect(19)

“No need to whisper,” she said. “We’re not at a museum.”

Maybe it was the sculptures lining the edges of the driveway that had made me feel like we were. Each was a carving of an animal, but not real ones—I recognized a gryphon and some other mythological-looking things. A pegasus? They fit the theme; the house had a sort of Grecian feel to it, with white columns lining the front. And it was quiet outside, quieter than I’d expected, given that we were going to a high school house party.

“Where’s the music?” I asked.

“Just wait,” Alex said. “All will be revealed in time. How are you feeling?”

“Fine so far,” I said. But that itself was noticeable—the nausea was gone, as was the headache and the racing pulse. I didn’t feel particularly good or anything like that; I just felt okay. Which, under the circumstances, was pretty terrific.

We walked between two of the white columns to the front door, which was unlocked. It was like entering a movie set, only for a movie I could never have imagined. The foyer was an expanse of white and silver: white walls with silver-framed paintings, white marble floors swirled with sparkling silver, an enormous white curved staircase with silver railings. It was huge, and it was empty.

“Are we in the right place?”

Alex nodded and led me through the foyer, past a statue of Pan, then off to the right, through a green dining room with a table that could have seated at least twenty people, decorated in green and gold. It was a warm contrast to the cool of the foyer, but I still didn’t see anyone, though apparently people were treating it like a coatroom—there were purses and scarves and jackets everywhere.

“This way.” Alex had clearly been here before; her heels clicked on the hardwood floor of the dining room, softening only when she reached a library, walls covered in books, floor covered in the biggest and most beautiful Persian rug I’d ever seen. In the back of the room was a glass door that led outside.

That’s where everyone was.

The backyard was an expanse of perfectly manicured lawn, covered only in part by a stone patio where a string trio was playing. Waiters in tuxedos carried glasses of champagne and trays of canapés around to girls in sparkly cocktail dresses and guys in suits. I didn’t immediately recognize anyone because they all looked so different from how they did at school, but after a while my brain started making the necessary connections. I saw a girl from my AP English class picking over hors d’oeuvres, a guy from the water polo team joking around with one of the girls who played lacrosse. The information settled in with almost a palpable click, and it was satisfying to put the pieces together. It was the same feeling I got when I checked my work in calculus, or when I figured out the clue in a logic puzzle that opened up the whole thing. It was one of my favorite feelings in the world.

A middle-aged waiter came by and offered us champagne. Alex took a glass like she was used to people bringing her drinks at fancy parties, but I wasn’t so sure that mixing booze and Novalert was a good idea, at least not for my first time. “Do you have anything nonalcoholic?” I asked, feeling my face get hot. The waiter gave me a silent nod and walked off, returning faster than I could have imagined with what looked like champagne again. Was I mistaking him for another waiter? “But I—”

“Ginger ale,” he said, smiling. “I know how much you kids hate to stand out in a crowd.”

I thanked him and took a sip, grateful that he understood this party better than I did. “This is so weird,” I said to Alex, who’d already finished her drink and had snagged another. “But I think the Novalert kicked in.”

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“So far so good,” I said.

“Well, then, it’s time to get in there.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the patio onto the grass, where most of the kids were hanging out in small groups, talking. She stopped by a group of three guys who were standing near a statue of what appeared to be a Greek god. What was with this house and all the statues, anyway? I recognized two of the three guys—neither was in my classes, so I wasn’t sure where I’d seen them before—but the third looked totally unfamiliar to me. The first thing I noticed about him was his eyes, which were super dark, almost black, the same color as his hair. The second thing I noticed was that I had to look up to see them, which was surprising given how high my shoes were. The third thing I noticed was that he was hot. I hadn’t thought that about anyone for a really long time.

“You made it!” the cute guy said, and gave Alex a hug. My heart sank a little. He was probably the Prospect. “And you brought a friend, I see. Nice.” He had an English accent, which was pretty much the sexiest thing I’d ever heard. Alex had good taste.

“Hey, Raj, this is Kara, who I was telling you about.” She gave me a look, and I wondered what she’d been saying. “Kara, this is Raj, and Justin and Bryan.”

Justin and Bryan were both cute—Justin was about my height, blond and wearing a very well-fitted shiny blue suit, and Bryan was short and dark and kind of uncomfortable in his suit, but in a charming way. Alex hung out with a good-looking crowd.

“That dress . . . ,” Bryan said.

“Too much?” Alex did her little twirl again.

“Not at all,” Raj said. “Just the right amount, actually.”