Art Geeks and Prom Queens Read online

  And without thinking twice I say, “Jas Klein is totally smokin’!” But while I’m nodding and smiling I notice everybody’s just sitting there, staring at me. So I take a small sip of champagne, and go, “Well kinda.”

  And then Kristi, having completely lost her patience, shakes her head, sighs loudly, and says, “Listen Rio. I know you don’t get the whole social-ranking system, but let me just inform you that everyone knows Jas Klein is a total stoner and a big loser, and we can’t allow you to like him. I’m sorry, and I know that at first it might sound harsh, but that’s just the way it is, and it’s not like it’s my fault.” She looks at Jen Jen and Kayla for confirmation and they both nod. “We work really hard to set good examples for the rest of the school,” she continues. “We’re involved in every single activity that matters. And just because we’re totally sweet to everyone doesn’t mean we’re actually friends with all of them.” She leans toward me and rests her hand on mine. “We really like you and we all agree you definitely have potential.” She pauses and they all smile at me. “But if you’re gonna insist on hanging with stoners and dykes, then you can’t hang with us. I mean, you need to be aware of how your actions affect the group. That is, if you want to be part of our group.”

  They’re all looking at me, waiting for a response, but I just sit there, staring at the carpet. Because even though I’m being given a second chance to pass on their friendship, the truth is that I do want to hang with them. I mean, even though they’re kind of phony, and definitely not nice to everyone like she just said, they are the leaders of the school—they know all the cool people and do all the cool stuff, and I really want a piece of that, too. Partly because I’ve never had a shot at it before. But mostly because I don’t want to go back to being a nobody.

  It’s like, before at my old school, I didn’t really care about being a big geek because I had two great friends, and we stuck together no matter what. I mean, yeah, there were definitely bad times like when the cool girls would “accidentally” spike the volleyball smack into my head during PE, or the time when Paige and I were voted number two and three on the “Ugliest Girls” list that was circulated around the entire eighth-grade class, or the countless times Hud had his hair “washed” in the school toilets. But even though I try not to think about that stuff, the truth is I couldn’t stand living through it again. And Kristi’s friendship insures that moments like those will never, ever happen to me. And without Paige and Hud to back me, it’s pretty much an offer I can’t refuse.

  So if you hate me for my next statement, just imagine how I feel when I go, “Well, I think that Jeff Cole guy is cute.” I’m referring to the jock that threw the orange at us that day.

  “We call him JC, and you’re right, he’s a total hottie,” says Kayla, nodding.

  “Total,” says Jen Jen.

  “And he’s great in bed.” Kristi looks right at me.

  “Really?” I’m trying to act all casual, like I’m so used to having conversations like this.

  “Just kidding,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Well you did make out with him,” Jen Jen says, flipping through my pathetic CD collection.

  “So?” Kristi says, getting up and opening the door to my walk-in closet. “Kayla’s the one that blew him.”

  “Uh, hel-lo? That was like, a long time ago. When he was my boyfriend.” Kayla rolls her eyes, and inspects the ends of her blond-streaked hair.

  “Oh, my god, I totally remember that party!” Jen Jen says, giving up on my CDs and cranking the radio instead.

  “Do you guys have a lot of parties?” I ask, just to say something so they won’t forget I’m still here.

  “Yeah, my mom and stepdaddy number two go away a lot,” Kristi says. “Because they trust me.” She laughs.

  “Suckers,” Jen Jen says, getting up and dancing to an Outkast song in front of my full-length mirror.

  “So you want to hook up with JC?” Kristi asks, taking my 7 jeans off the hanger and checking the size label. “ ‘Cause I can arrange it.”

  “No!” I say, a little louder than I would have liked. “I mean, no. Don’t say anything. If it’s gonna happen, then it will just happen, right? I mean, he probably doesn’t even like me.” I suddenly feel really nauseous.

  “Please. Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re one of us now,” Kristi says, while Kayla and Jen Jen smile.

  “Listen,” I say, clutching my stomach, “I didn’t say I wanted to, you know, hook up. I just said he was cute, that’s all.”

  “Are you a virgin?” Kristi asks, turning away from my closet and staring at me.

  My head feels all light and weird, and I know that this would probably be a really good time to lie. But I’m not sure I can fake my way through it, and I’m feeling pretty sick, so I just kind of shrug.

  “Oh, my god!” Kristi shrieks. “I bet you’ve never even hooked up, have you?” She comes over, sits on the edge of the bed, and stares at me.

  “What about in New York? Didn’t you guys hook up and stuff? I thought New York was supposed to be pretty wild,” Jen Jen says.

  I shrug. “I didn’t really like anyone enough for that.” I take a sip from the bottle of water I keep on my nightstand, hoping it will make me feel better.

  “Get real,” Kristi says. “You don’t have to like them, you just have to think they’re hot. Listen, I can totally set you up. My parents go out of town like every few weeks, and we just hang at my house and do whatever with whoever.”

  “You mean you guys like, all have sex together?” I ask incredulously. Because that I want no part of.

  “No, dummy. We mostly just hook up.”

  “But don’t you want just one boyfriend?” I ask. “Like, just one special guy to share everything with?”

  “Why would I want just one boyfriend? How boring is that?” She rolls her eyes. “Lighten up. If people were meant to be together forever, then everybody wouldn’t be getting divorced.”

  “My parents are still together,” I say.

  “Wait,” she says. “They’ll get over it.”

  I don’t know if it’s the thought of my parents splitting up, fear of hooking up, or the fact that I am seriously messed-up on champagne. But suddenly, I jump up and bolt straight into my bathroom, where I barely make it to the toilet before I start vomiting over and over and over again.

  And while Kayla rushes over to hold my hair back, Jen Jen grabs a washcloth, runs it under the tap then holds it against my forehead while I continue being sick. And right when I’m thinking how totally sweet they are for taking care of me like this, and how lucky I am to have such nice friends, Kristi goes, “God, Rio, that is seriously disgusting. But it’s probably for the best ‘cause you really eat a lot.”

  Seventeen

  That night as I was trying to fall asleep, I realized it was the first day since I’d left New York that I hadn’t e-mailed Paige or Hud. And the truth is, I really wasn’t interested in getting out of bed to see if they e-mailed me. It wasn’t because I was exhausted, messed-up, and feeling empty from vomiting. It was because I knew Paige would never understand why I was suddenly so determined to be accepted by the kind of people we always used to make fun of.

  But since we moved to Newport Beach everything is different. And it makes me want to be different too. Because it’s one thing to be a geek when you’re in good company. It’s another when you’re out there on your own.

  The next morning I’m standing in front of my closet feeling completely panicked about what I’m going to wear. It’s like, now that I’m hanging with Kristi and Company, I can’t exactly just throw my hair into a ponytail and run out the door in jeans and a dorky sweatshirt like I used to. Now I have to think about my image, and how it will reflect on the group.

  And believe me, I’m not making this up, because right before they left. Kristi laid down the rules when she said, “Listen, Rio. Today you looked really cute in your little Burberry skirt, and on your first day you were fine in that pin
k Juicy outfit. But all the days in between were pretty brutal. And I happen to know you have cute clothes because I went through your closet. So, like, try to wear some of them, okay?”

  And there were other rules, too:

  1. Drugs: Drinking is okay. But smoking pot is bad because it makes you hungry in a way that can’t be suppressed, and most other drugs are only for hard-core losers.

  2. Attitude: Always smile and be supersweet to everyone—even the dorks, because dorks totally look up to us so we have to set a good example.

  3. Sex: It’s okay to flirt and/or hook up with jocks, preps, and rich, older college guys, but never act like a skank in public unless you’re totally drunk and can’t help it.

  4. Dress Code: Always dress cute because it gives other people something to aspire to, and it shows you have good self-esteem. But never repeat an outfit more than twice in one month. (Kristi suggested I get a journal so I can keep track.)

  5. Image: Try not to eat so much, because it will totally catch up with you, and then you’ll get fat, and you won’t have any friends. (I wondered if she’d ever heard of Oprah.)

  It’s a lot to remember, and I’m not used to following rules, because even my parents don’t really set them for me. But I do like the idea of belonging to something, especially something everyone wants to be part of. I know that on the surface my new friends seem like the exact opposite of Paige and Hud, and I guess they are. But Paige and Hud aren’t really in my life anymore, and the sooner I get used to that, the better.

  So, finally dressed in a white linen miniskirt, a celery-green tank top, a turquoise Juicy Couture hoodie, and some beige Rainbow flip-flops (since it’s supposed to be seventy-five degrees today even though there’s probably a blizzard in New York), I’m grabbing my books off my desk, when I notice my “ ape Crew” sweatshirt shoved in the trash can. Which is exactly where Kristi made me put it right after I was done throwing up.

  “You so have to get rid of this,” she said, holding it up by the tag, like it was contagious or something.

  “Oh, that?” I said, taking it from her and tossing it in the trash like I wasn’t really attached to it.

  But now I’m not so sure. And I know if I leave it there I’ll definitely never see it again, ‘cause my mom hates it even more than Kristi, so there’s no doubt she’ll have the maid make it disappear at the first opportunity. I’m not even sure why I want to keep it, because it’s not like it has any sentimental value. It’s just a stupid sweatshirt, and I’m being completely irrational. But I pull it out anyway and stash it under my bed. Then I head downstairs and wait.

  My mom comes into the kitchen, dressed in a lime-green Juicy Couture leisure suit that she totally swiped from my closet. She looks at her bling-crusted Cartier watch, and goes, “We should get going because I have to be back in time to let the maids in.”

  “I don’t need a ride,” I tell her, taking a sip of my coffee and trying to ignore the fact that my stomach is begging for something more.

  “Oh? Then how are you getting there?” she asks, looking at me suspiciously.

  “Kristi’s picking me up.” I casually take another sip and wait for her reaction.

  “Kristi Wood?” she asks carefully, but I can tell she’s holding back some major excitement, just in case she heard wrong.

  “Yeah,” I say, placing my mug in the sink, and turning to face her.

  “Rio, that’s wonderful!” She smiles, excitement in full bloom now “See, I told you that if you dressed up and put yourself out there, they’d come around. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Yeah, Mom, you told me,” I say, looking through the tiny Louis Vuitton purse I swiped from her closet. I’m applying my new Stila lip gloss when I hear Kristi’s horn. “Okay, see ya,” I say, grabbing my stuff and double-checking my outfit in the mirror by the door, praying it’s okay.

  When I look up I see my mom’s reflection, and she’s standing right behind me. She brushes her hand over my hair (which I’m wearing long and flowy instead of my usual ponytail), and she goes, “You look amazing.”

  And as I’m walking out the door I realize that’s like the second time she’s ever said that to me.

  Eighteen

  Everything at school is different now. After just a few days of hanging with Kristi, Kayla, and Jen Jen, all the cute guys flirt with me, and people who I don’t even know, know me. It’s almost like being a celebrity or something, and now I get why everyone wants it so bad.

  It’s because it makes you feel so good.

  But it’s weird in Art. I mean, now that I no longer hang with Mason and Jas, and I’m involved in things they’re not part of, it’s like we don’t really have the same interests anymore, and there’s definitely some awkward moments. I could be wrong, but the other day I was doodling in my notebook, and when I looked up I caught Jas staring at me. And even after I smiled, and made a face, he still kept staring. So I looked away.

  I know, you probably think the staring should make me happy, like mission accomplished, right? Because originally I was hoping that my makeover would get his attention—and obviously it has.

  But it was almost like that stare contained something other than admiration. Like maybe even the opposite of admiration. And that’s something I really don’t want to know about.

  And that’s why I looked away.

  After school if we don’t go to the mall, then we usually all go to Kristi’s and hang in her room. Sometimes we drink, but mostly we just play around on her computer, making up fake screen names, and sending nasty e-mails to people we don’t like, and stuff. I know that probably sounds really mean, but it’s not like I’m doing it, too. I mean, I mostly just sit there and watch them do it.

  But on this one day, we were all in her room and Kristi said, “You guys, check it out.” She was pointing at her computer, and cracking up.

  On the screen was this picture of Mason. It was black and white and kind of blurry, and she looked all frozen and stiffly posed, like it was taken from the yearbook or something. Next to the picture were the numbers 2.5.

  “Oh, my god, two point five? How embarrassing.” Kayla laughed.

  “What is that?” I asked, moving toward the screen to get a closer look.

  “It’s just this site where you submit your picture so people can rate how hot you are,” Jen Jen explained.

  “Look, someone rated her a zero!” Kristi was laughing so hard she was doubled-over. “She should just crawl into a hole and die!”

  “Why would she put her picture on there?” I asked, totally not getting it.

  Kristi rolled her eyes. “She didn’t, Einstein. I did.”

  I peered at the screen again. “That’s pretty mean,” I said, immediately regretting it, since last time I stuck up for Mason, it didn’t go over so well.

  Kayla and Jen Jen looked down at the ground, but Kristi just laughed and said, “You know what, Brazil? You’re absolutely right. That was really mean. ‘Cause this is a site for straight people. I should have put her on a lesbo site, then she might have scored higher.”

  Then they all bust out laughing, like it was the funniest thing ever. So I started laughing, too. I mean, it’s not like Mason tries to be nice to us. She barely even talks to me anymore, it’s like she thinks she’s too arty and deep for me now. And if you think about it, that’s just total snobbery.

  Well, today it’s just Kristi and me, since for some reason she didn’t invite Jen Jen and Kayla. And it was really weird ‘cause when we were all walking toward the student lot after school, Kayla said, “Jen and I will follow you guys, okay?”

  And as Kristi slid into the driver’s seat she said, “Not today.”

  “Oh. Do you guys have plans?” Kayla asked, her eyes full of suspicion.

  “I’m just gonna drop Rio off. I’ll call you later,” Kristi said, starting her engine, and waving good-bye.

  But she didn’t drop me off. Instead, she drives straight to her house, parks in her six-car garage, opens the door, an
d says, “Come.”

  Part of me really wants to know why she lied to Jen Jen and Kayla like that, but the other part is determined not to get all bogged-down in the details. It’s like, we all spend so much time competing for Kristi’s attention, that I have to admit it feels really awesome to be chosen. It’s like winning a silver medal or something. (I mean, you can’t win gold, because that already belongs to Kristi.)

  I’m wearing one of her bikinis and we’re relaxing in the Jacuzzi. My eyes are closed and I’m loving the feeling of the hot water bubbling all around me, when Kristi goes, “You know, I didn’t quite know what to make of you when you walked into English that day. But you turned out to be pretty cool.”

  I open my eyes and she’s looking right at me, smiling. “Thanks,” I say, reaching for my water bottle.

  “It’s really nice to hang with someone new for a change,” she continues. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Jen and Kayla, and I’ve known them forever, but sometimes, I don’t know, I guess, you and I have more in common, you know?”

  She looks right at me waiting for me to agree, but I’m not exactly sure what she means, since most of the time hanging with her feels like a balance beam routine, like I’m always in danger of a really humiliating, unscheduled dismount.

  “Jen and Kayla are cute and all, and they really do a lot with what they’ve got. But you and I are way better-looking, right?” She takes a sip of her Diet Coke and stares at me, but I’m not sure what to say to that, so I just kind of nod in semiagreement.

  She places her Coke on the edge and rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s just us, so why can’t we admit the truth? It’s not like they can hear us. Face it, Rio, everyone at school wishes they were us.”