In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(11)

I preened. “You’re too nice. Yes, I’m a partner at Coldwell.”

“Youngest female partner ever in the New York branch,” Caro said helpfully, and Elizabeth and Vanessa oohed.

This was my apotheosis. Everything was going exactly to plan.

“And Caro,” Elizabeth said, turning from me. “Let’s see the ring!”

My stomach dropped. Caro laughed and held up her hand, wiggling her fingers.

“It’s so pretty,” Vanessa said, examining the gem. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying Brandon Cooper. I would have put money on him never marrying.”

“Totally,” Elizabeth agreed. “Every girl in school was in love with him. It’s that bad boy thing, you know? He was, like, such a James Dean. With his motorcycle and his leather jacket.”

“James Dean?” Vanessa squealed. “What are you, ninety?”

Elizabeth laughed. “All I know is I had the biggest crush on him. There were always those rumors he was dating a million girls, but I never actually saw him with anyone. You’re lucky, Caroline.”

“Actually—” Vanessa’s voice lowered. “I think those rumors got started because of what he did, remember? He was always in and out of people’s rooms ’cause he sold—”

“Hey!” I said quickly, watching Caro’s frown grow. “Remember that girl whose sex tape leaked? What’s she doing now?”

Caro’s eyes widened at me, disbelieving. Again, I swatted away guilt, satisfied at the distraction.

Vanessa looked puzzled. “The one a year below us who transferred? I heard she’s a kindergarten teach—”

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth breathed, her gaze catching on something across the room. “Look, it’s Courtney Kennedy.”

Whether it was natural human instinct or the power of her name, I didn’t know, but we all spun to follow Elizabeth’s gaze. Sure enough, there she was, standing in the corner of the tent surrounded by other Chi Os. Seeing her in real life after so long was like spotting a celebrity in the wild—a little shock to the system.

Courtney wore a tight, blood-red dress, dark eyeliner, and bright lips. The memory flashed back: freshman year, before I had any friends, watching her stumble back to her room, clinging to Heather’s arm and laughing hysterically. The most beautiful girl I’d ever seen—still, to this day. Always the belle of the ball.

“Courtney Minter,” Vanessa corrected, then snapped “What?” when Elizabeth elbowed her. Vanessa realized and looked at me in horror. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I spaced. This must be so weird for you.”

A tidal wave of emotions—pain at seeing Courtney, still so perfect, and fury that Vanessa’s and Elizabeth’s delicious envy was quickly turning to pity. I downed my wine. “Don’t apologize. Mint and I broke up years ago. Seriously. I’m over it.”

No one said anything for a second, and then Elizabeth spoke in a rush. “It’s just that he’s so perfect and you guys dated all through college. I mean, you were a Duquette staple. It was so inspiring to see the two of you together. It gave the rest of us hope, you know? That unlikely pairings can happen. Now he’s with Courtney and it’s just so…obvious.”

My stomach dropped. Gave the rest of us hope?

I could feel rage welling, an urge to knock the vodka tonic from Elizabeth’s hand.

“Jess and Courtney are actually really good friends,” Caro said in a bright singsong voice, lacing her arm through mine. “We’re going to talk to her now, in fact. Have a good night!” She walked away quickly, tugging me after her.

Elizabeth’s comment sent me straight back to high school. Freshman year, when we were all obsessed with rankings, making lists of teachers, movies, sports teams, and finally, the boys had the nerve to rank the girls. For days, we heard whispers about who was the hottest. We speculated at lunch, voicing support for every girl publicly and making our own more cutthroat calculations privately. I knew I wouldn’t be ranked first, though I longed to be. At fourteen, I’d already learned you rarely got your exact heart’s desire. But I figured I’d be in the top five, maybe top three. I was tall, true, which wasn’t yet a virtue, but when I slid my eyes around the classroom, taking measure, I felt sure: I am one of the best-looking girls here.

The list was passed around near the end of biology, when poor Mrs. Sikes was engaged in the Sisyphean effort of trying to teach us cellular mitosis. Michael, the leader of the boys, slipped Madison a single piece of folded paper. Madison pretended not to care, but finally looked. A wide smile curved her mouth, and my heart plummeted. She was number one. I’d suspected it might be her—Madison and her dumb, perfect corkscrew curls. Apparently, for all my talk about being satisfied with second or third place, I’d still harbored secret hopes.

The note wound its way around the tables until finally it reached me. With trembling fingers, I unfolded it and read. Madison was first, Whitney second? My heart beat faster. Renata third—Renata? I pored down the rest of the list, scanning only for my name. My heart skipped at number twelve, but it was only Jessica C. Where was I? I came to the bottom of the list, where poor Marybeth was number twenty-five, a horrible cruelty because of her acne. Then the horrifying truth hit me. I wasn’t even on the list. Forget one of the top girls—I didn’t even merit mention.