Page 90 of Foolish Games

“How’d you really get in?” I ask.

“We snuck by while Lexi was making out with the butler,” he says, then slaps the bar and laughs. “Never thought I’d hear those words coming out of my mouth.”

“Glad you made it,” I say, clapping him on the back before grabbing a couple glasses of rum and coke. “Here’s to partying like rich folks in the new year.”

“I’m getting some food,” he says. “Lex, let’s check out that chocolate fountain.”

She turns and spots it, then squeals before skipping over to something that looks like a smooth, five-tier chocolate cake surrounded by strawberries. She pokes her finger through the chocolate, and it parts like a curtain around it. With a delighted giggle, she sticks her finger in her mouth and sucks it off.

“Dude, I’d be so fat if I was rich,” she says. “I’d have one of these in the living room and sit there eating it while I watched TV all day.”

She doesn’t seem to notice a few people giving her funny looks and stepping away, but I do. I’m embarrassed for her, and that I gave them the idea to come, and most of all, that everyone’s probably looking at me the same way, and I’m just as oblivious.

I glance over to see if Vivienne’s still talking to the Darling boy, but she’s settled onto a stool at a table with Chaz and Chiclet. He’s talking to her, but she’s watching us behaving exactly like what we are—servants who just snuck into a party thrown by royalty.

When our eyes meet, she just shakes her head, disbelief and disappointment written all over her face. Then she turns back to Chaz and nods politely at whatever boring thing he’s saying to her. Tonight, the divide between us that’s usually a line carved by a sharp blade has widened to a chasm carved by an earthquake.

twenty-six

Vivienne Delacroix

“The competition’s only three weeks away,” Chaz says. “If you’re serious about being on the team, you really shouldn’t miss any more practices.”

“I only skip the ones at your house,” I point out.

“Right, but that’s twenty percent of them,” he says.

“Well, maybe we can have them at my house instead,” I say. “Sebastian doesn’t like the thought of me going to your house after school.”

“Seems a little controlling,” Chaz says, raising his orange brows. “Do I make him that insecure?”

“He’s not insecure,” I say, annoyed that Chaz thinks he can criticize Sebastian the way he criticized me every time I brought up his relationship with Krissy.

“Really, Viv,” Chaz says, reaching over to cover my hand with his. “What do you see in that guy? He’s so immature.”

He nods to the other side of the room. Beyond the dance floor, where a dozen masked couples are dancing, Sebastian and his friends are goofing around next to one of the food tables. Billy—who’s wearing a batman eye mask that looks like part of a Halloween costume—is throwing grapes in the air, and Sebastian’s catching them in his mouth. The Dolce boys let out a big whoop when he dives and bites yet another one out of the air.

For a second, I see what Chaz must see. A bunch of unrefined, dumb jocks clowning around and acting like idiots who don’t know how to behave at a party.

But I don’t see Sebastian that way.

“He’s fun,” I say, plucking Chaz’s hand off mine and shoving it back toward him. “Not everything has to be serious every second of the day.”

“Well, as long as you’re not getting serious,” he says.

I glare at him. “Is that really your concern? You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he says, glancing at the end of the room, where Krissy’s emerging from the restroom. “I just can’t imagine what you have in common with that neanderthal.”

“Believe it or not, we actually find things to talk about,” I say, sliding off my stool. “Which is more than I can say for you and me. Have we ever had a single conversation that wasn’t about school, or college, or our future careers?”

“What else would we talk about?” he asks. “We’re in high school. That’s our life right now.”

“I don’t know,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Music, and sunglasses, and pizza toppings, and fashion, and cheesy horror movies, and whether aliens exist.”

A rumble of thunder interrupts, and we stare at each other until it’s passed.

“I already know you don’t like any toppings on your pizza except cheese, you don’t like scary movies, and you listen to country,” he says. “Is that all you talk about with him? That’s shallow. I know you deeper than that, Viv.”

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