Page 12 of Foolish Games

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of our families. I know I miss out on a lot by not going to Willow Heights, but one of the things I miss most is the company of Faulkner’s other blue bloods. Not because they’re better than anyone, but because I grew up with all these kids, and they understand the insanity of our family traditions in a way that our Faulkner High peers just don’t.

The song ends, and I barely even notice Chaz and Krissy getting up to dance. I’m busy having fun being passed off to the next Darling son and then the next. By the time dinner rolls around, I’m flushed from the exertion and happy to have caught up with half the boys I grew up with before my parents sent us to FHS while the other founding heirs all went to WHPA.

“This is crazy,” Krissy says as we make our way out of the Hockington Hotel’s ballroom toward the dining room. This is her first year to attend the Founders Ball, since her family is more upwardly mobile than old money.

“Just wait until you see the food,” Chaz says. “We won’t get to sit with Vivienne, since she’s basically royalty, but you can sit with me.”

“We can still hang out after dinner,” I assure him, taking his hand and squeezing to show him that I’d rather be with them. It’s one of those moments when the family traditions that are supposed to show that our family is elevated in status just makes me feel isolated. I’m both awkward for having more than they do and left out because I have to partake in the traditions befitting a Delacroix.

“We should hang out later,” Krissy says. “Maybe I can stay over like I did last month.”

I’m about to remind her that she’s never slept over at my house when I realize she’s not talking to me. Ice creeps into my veins, and I extract my hand from Chaz’s.

“You spent the night?” I ask.

“Don’t start this,” Chaz says, giving me a pleading look.

“You’re right,” I say. “Maybe I should end it instead.”

With as much dignity as I can muster, I sweep ahead of them out of the elevator. I hear Nana Delacroix’s voice echo in my ears as I step onto the red carpet with my cousin Blaise.

Head high. Shoulders back. Tummy in.

The red carpet leads into the dining room. Couples of all ages from the upper crust of Faulkner’s society make their way along it and into the dining room, where they’re seated by white-clad servers. I try to look as elegant and regal as Blaise, who looks so perfect even I have to remind myself that she’s real and not a doll.

“Vivienne,” Chaz says, rushing to catch up to me and intercepting one of the staff who was going to escort me to my table.

Blaise gives me an embarrassed, sympathetic smile and holds out her delicate hand to touch mine. “It’s time,” she says in her soft, musical voice.

“Go on,” I say, feeling the eyes of my family on me. It’s no wonder she’s the most beloved grandchild. She looks like a swan in human form. Next to her, I’m definitely the ugly duckling. I don’t need her to hear our argument on top of everything else.

As soon as she’s gone, Chaz starts in. “Listen, I told you that day Krissy was coming over. Remember? When her dad started dialysis. She was just having a hard time, and our parents are friends… My mom invited her to stay over, not me. I swear to you, nothing happened. It wasn’t even our idea.”

I sigh. “I’m not trying to be a jealous bitch, but come on, Chaz. How would you feel if I had guys sleeping over at my house?”

“You do,” he points out. “You have a brother. I know he has his football buddies over for parties. You can’t tell me none of them have crashed there. Even that asshole Sebastian has probably stayed over. You don’t see me getting jealous about that, even though you spend all that time with him at tutoring.”

“It’s tutoring,” I say, staring at him in disbelief. “It’s literally my job.”

“Yeah, well, most of us got a new partner after the first quarter. How come you’re still with him?”

“Because he doesn’t do his homework,” I say. “I help him up until the final product, but unless you want me to do his homework for him and hand it in, I can’t help what he does or doesn’t do outside our sessions.”

Chaz gives me a pleading look and takes my hand. “I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m just pointing out, it’s no different from when your brother has friends over. It’s not like we slept in the same bed.”

I turn to the room and touch my tightly coifed updo, collecting myself. Ambient lighting filters from the rafters, and candles flicker on each table. Most of the guests will sit at the round tables covered in white linen tablecloths. The founding families all sit together at the head of the room at rectangular tables with custom made tablecloths featuring our family crests. We’re usually escorted to our seats, but I ignore tradition and make my way to our table on my own. It gives me time to take few breaths before turning to Chaz, who hasn’t left my side.

“Did she sleep in your room?” I ask.

“What?”

“You said y’all didn’t sleep in the same bed. Did she sleep in your room?”

He hesitates before answering. “Yes, but I slept on the floor. I promise, Viv. We’re just friends.”

“Well, why don’t you go sit with your friend and have a nice meal,” I say, my smile brittle. “We can talk about this later. I have to sit with my family.”

“Wait,” he says, grabbing my hand again.

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