but maybe because of it. These are people who, if they aren’t already, are well on their way to becoming my real friends. I don’t mention the specifics: our new three things game or how he told me to befriend Dri in the first place. The former, at least, belongs only to us. But I confess that I like him, whatever that means when you’ve only talked online.
“You totally want him to half peen you,” Agnes says.
“A girl can dream,” I say.
—
Later, when I get back to Rachel’s house, I find Theo lingering outside our parents’ bedroom, obviously eavesdropping.
“You are not listening to them, you know, doing the nasty. Please, please, please tell me that’s not what’s happening here,” I demand.
“Ewww. Gross, no. And shush. They’re fighting,” he says, and pulls me next to him, right near the door, so I can hear them too. Turns out that’s unnecessary, because soon they’re shouting so loud I’m sure the neighbors have turned off whatever reality show competition they are watching to tune in to this instead. “I think they might be breaking up, and then this long national nightmare can come to an end.”
“ ‘Long national nightmare’? Seriously?” I ask.
“What the hell, Rachel? It’s just a fucking dinner,” my dad says, and that’s when I know it’s serious. My dad rarely curses, opts instead for the faux cursing favored only by ten-year-old girls and Southern women and Dri: shut the front door, holy sugar, eff off. “I need to study.”
“It’s an important work dinner, and it’s not unreasonable of me to want my husband there. We’re married, remember? This is important to me,” Rachel says, and I wish I could see through the door. Are they standing or sitting? Is Rachel the type to throw things, to smash the thousand-dollar accessories that litter the house? But who needs a six-foot-tall white porcelain giraffe anyhow? “Forget it. Maybe it’s better if you don’t come.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It means nothing.” Oh, the passive-aggressive type. Says things without saying them. Agnes would hate her. “You and I both know this is not about you needing to study. You already told me you can take that test in your sleep.”
“Fine. I’ll admit it. I wanted one night to myself. One night when I did not have to be judged by all of your friends. Do you think I don’t see how they look at me? How you look at me when they’re around? I even let you take me shopping so I can dress the part, but come on! Enough,” my dad says, and now my cheeks flame. No doubt, I feel out of my element at Wood Valley, but it never occurred to me that my dad would have trouble adjusting to life in LA too, that all this fitting-in stuff doesn’t end in high school.
“No one is judging you,” Rachel says, and her voice turns coaxing, soothing. “They all like you.”
“So sue me that I don’t want to watch some indie movie about a Bengali leper who plays the harp with his toes. And you have some nerve correcting my drink order the other night, like I’m a child. I wanted a beer with my steak. Not an overpriced glass of cabernet. Sorry if that offends your high-class sensibilities. That sort of stuff doesn’t matter to me.”
“I was just trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself,” Rachel says, and her voice starts to quaver. Tears are imminent. I don’t feel sorry for her. “At a place like that, you don’t order beer. You just don’t. I was just trying to signal to you—”
“I don’t need signals. I’m a grown man, and just because I prefer burgers and beer to organic freshwater fancy-ass fish doesn’t make me a barbarian. You knew who you were marrying. I’ve never pretended to be anyone else. Anyhow, I thought it was cool to be different out here. Isn’t that why you bought me those ridiculous sneakers? It’s like you’re training a pet.”
“It’s one thing to have simple tastes. It’s another to be downright antiintellectual. Would it hurt you to read a book once in a while?” Rachel asks. Turns out I was wrong. She’s not going to cry. She’s doubling down. She’s rearing back.
“Seriously? You’re insulting my intelligence now? I’ve never seen you read a book. All that’s on your night table is Vogue. Actually, the only person who reads around here is Jessie. She’s the only sane person in this house.”