What I Thought Was True(42)

“I already have the crummy reputation, Nic.” And you’re the one looking at engagement rings at age eighteen and not telling me. But the accusation tangles into a lump in my throat. I can’t ask. Not after he’s had to deal with both his mom and my dad today.

“Not really. ’Cause I never heard a thing until Hoop was going on about it. He thought I already knew.”

“Yeah, I pretty much thought everyone knew.” My voice catches on everyone.

Nic looks at me. I look away.

“Well, not me,” he says. “Probably not a lot of people. And it’s not like I’m going to pass it on. I just don’t really get where your head was. I told you not to go to that party.”

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“I’m the swim team mascot, remember? I like to party.”

He swears under his breath, hunches his shoulders, twitches them like he’s shaking something off. Nic shutting down.

I dive out into the water, shut my eyes, swim away from him, off to Seal Rock. It’s firm and familiar under my hands.

Still faintly warm from the sun. I climb up, rest my cheek on my folded knees, and look out, far out, to the edge of the ocean.

Nic’s right. I should never have gone to Spence’s party.

When your host is famous for hot tub orgies, you sort of know what to expect. But I wasn’t going to hide after what happened with Cass. I wasn’t going to let those Hill guys, those swim team guys, think I was good enough to record their times in the pool, good enough for a one-night stand, but not good enough to socialize with. Nic and Viv were at the White House Inn. The only hotel on Seashell—which Nic had to have saved for ages to afford. I’d spent the afternoon lingerie shopping at Victoria’s Secret with Viv, after helping Nic call in an order for the flowers and the gift basket to be left in their suite. I teetered along the cobblestone path in my unaccustomed heels next to Hoop, who was cracking his knuckles as though expecting a wrestling match at the door.

As we paused on the walkway, Emma Christianson brushed by us—tall, blond, angular, high-cheekboned, the image of money and poise, and I lost my nerve.

“Are we actually invited? We’re not walking into some scene where they’ll beat us up or anything, are we?”

Hoop rolled his eyes. “Daaaaamn, Gwenners. You know how these parties are. Spence invited hell near everybody from school—he’s gotta save face since Somers threw that big one 144

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earlier. They’re so crazy competitive. Dumbasses. Come on, I’m going to get me a beer and some serious action. Don’t worry, you look fiiiiiine.”

I’d borrowed a dress from Viv, who is considerably smaller than me—everywhere. So it was super-tight. And red. And low-cut.

I was used to parties with only a keg, or just six-packs bobbling around in melting ice in a dingy tub. This one had an entire bar—black-and-white and mirrored in a dizzying way—set up with four blenders churning out margaritas and some sort of pink drink. Spence, in a black T-shirt with a purple lei draped over it, was dumping the last of a bottle of rum into one of the blenders. He watched as we walked in and flashed me his perfect smile, the one that rarely reached his eyes—but it did now. “Whoa-ho, it’s the princess of Castle’s. Whaddya know. Didn’t think you’d show for this one, Gwen.”

Pouring a tall glass of the pink stuff, he reached over, wedged one of those little umbrellas in it, pressed it into my hand.

“I was just going to go for a Coke. Not much of a drinker,”

I said.

“Yeah, she’s a freakin’ lightweight,” Hoop confirmed. Then he gave me a friendly pat—on my butt—and slid away, shoulders bobbing to the music.

“Yet here you are.” Spence’s eyebrows lifted.

What I’d told Spence was true. Still, I immediately took a nervous slug of whatever the drink was, nearly choking on a chunk of ice. Spence just sat there while I coughed, sputtered, and eventually got control of myself. I put my glass down and hiked the top of my dress up. He smiled more broadly and gave 145

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me a practiced once-over, as though tracing the path of the blush I could feel rising.

They must offer a secret course for these guys on Hayden Hill: Putting Girls Off Balance 101. Well, to hell with it. I turned on my heel and headed toward the door I’d seen Hoop vanish through. Time for me to stick with my own kind.

Hoop had collapsed bonelessly on the couch and was ani-matedly recounting to some girl I didn’t know the story of a marlin he’d once landed off the coast of the island. I recog-nized the story. It was Nic’s marlin.

I drifted from room to room, trying to look as though I knew the house and exactly where I was headed in it. There was a hallway with a series of marble busts, a huge oval mirror, some tall shiny black standing vases with waxy white lilies.

Then a room set up to look like it was outdoors, even though it wasn’t, which contained several cockatoos in cages that reeked as though the newspaper hadn’t been changed in a while. One of the cockatoos hopped up and down as I entered, screeching, “Live bait! Live bait!” I twisted the gold-plated handle of the French doors and headed out onto the terrace. Even Spence’s birds disconcerted me.

It was a huge terrace, like a whole outdoor version of the house. I could dimly make out a figure at the curved end, looking out over all of Stony Bay. I knew who it was just by the way he was leaning on his elbows, by the glint of the hair on his down-tucked head. I wanted so badly to walk up behind him that my right foot nearly tingled, and I was suddenly afraid it would take control, dragging me into a place I knew better than to go. How on earth could I still feel that way? Nice work, 146