Page 87 of A Better World

She headed in the direction of the kid party, where a wall of glass with a sliding door at its center led to a pool. There, she spotted Hip and Cathy, both in bathing suits, drinking real champagne from tall flutes. They were in the deep end of the pool, elbows tucked on the sides to hold them above its ten-foot depth.

Around them, kids chitchatted. They held grownup cocktails and accepted hors d’oeuvres. The invitation hadn’t specified that the hosts intended to serve alcohol to young guests. It had not said, “by the way, hope you’re cool holding your kid’s head over a toilet when you get home.” But perhaps it hadn’t needed to do that, because no teen rebellion was happening here. Nobody did a cannonball, or shoved a friend into the water as means of flirtation. Nobody shouted or seemed drunk. In their designer swimsuits and cover-ups and robes, they were caricatures of callow and decadent adults.

She spotted Josie’s “friends” by the tables and chairs. They were huddled and laughing, but they did so softly—not like the monkey banter of typical kids. “That girl’s full of poop,” one of them said.

In a way that was pretending to be kind, but was actually self-serving, another added, “She’ssosensitive.”

Then, the girl—Jeanette—who’d fake-asked Josie out said, “I still like her. But I’m worried. Have you noticed her weight gain? Like, a lot? Which is totally fine. But also, not healthy.”

“If she gets a B in history, she’s in trouble. You cannot have a B on your transcript and get into the honors track at BWU,” someone added. “She better stay good at soccer. But if she gets any bigger, she won’t be able to run the field. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I’msoworried,” Jeanette said.

Linda kept walking, knowing that in her angry state, whatever she said would only make things worse. She went outside. Breathedthe cold, perfectly filtered air. Partygoers strolled along the tall trees, offering treats to the thinned-out caladrius among the rows of shelters, but mostly, she was alone. In the distance, she could see Anouk’s little cottage. The stars above were so clear that the bright ones could have been floodlights behind punched velvet, the dim ones scattered glitter.

How did I get here?she wondered.

But then, an oddly familiar scent. It had been years. Those crops had mostly died out. Tobacco smoke. Who around here still smoked cigarettes? Would it be the kind of person who didn’t like this place? The kind of person undertaking a small act of rebellion, to signify a larger one? Around the corner, in an Adirondack glider, she found Rachel.

Linda stood there, caught.

Rachel made the sound of lazy laughter. Waved Linda closer. “Want one?”

“Too much like Glamp.”

“These are just tobacco. But they’ll kill you, too,” Rachel said as she exhaled.

Linda sat on the glider next to Rachel. Found, despite what had happened between them, that she was more comfortable there than inside.

“Do you remember talking to me at your house?” Linda asked.

Rachel sucked on her smoke. “No. I’m told I’ve been telling tales. Did I tell you tall tales?”

“Yes,” Linda said.

“How tall?”

“Whoppers,” Linda said. “Were they true?”

Rachel exhaled a perfect ring. “Probably.” She indicated her cigarette. “I know my benders are almost done when I start smoking. This is the tail end. I promised Kai I’d stop again tomorrow.”

“Did he give you an ultimatum?”

“He’s done that so many times we’ve both stopped counting. It’s not for him,” she said. “Though I do love him. He’s been loyal. More loyal than me. He’s got plenty to complain about, but I’m doing it because Daniella’s pissed. It’s bad when Daniella’s pissed.”

“Oh,” Linda said. “Either way, it’s good you’re taking action.”

Rachel nodded. Linda sat back. They were quiet. She finished herwine. Noticed a soft, organic deposit at the bottom of the glass. Used her index finger to taste its earthiness, like a porcini mushroom.

“Careful with that,” Rachel said.

“Why?” Linda asked.

“Why? Why? Why?” Rachel imitated in irritating singsong. “You’ll see. You’ll see! You’ll see!”

It was close to midnight. She wanted to leave, so they weren’t stuck together when the New Year began. But she didn’t want to go inside, didn’t want to have to watch Russell kiss every ass he could find.

Rachel reached into the bag beside her, pulled out a small bottle of sherry, and tipped back. “It’s too much bother to go stand in line at the bar,” she said. “This way I can clear the house for sobriety tomorrow.”

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