Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“He is dreamy,” she says. “When you two get married, can your father and I live in the servants’ cottage?”

Dreamy. My mom is so old it’s hilarious. “Um, no,” I say with fake disdain, “because then where will the servants live?”

“Speaking of servants,” Mom says with a sparkle in her eyes, “I’m sure your father could find something for you to do around the shop. You look a little bored.”

“Extra work? On a holiday? Thanks, Mom, but I’ll never be that bored,” I say. Right on cue my phone buzzes.

It’s Jason.

I slip into my room with the phone. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Jason asks incredulously. “It’s Fourth of July—that’s what’s up. What are you doing tonight?”

I flop down on my zebra-print comforter. “I’m going to the fair.”

“Downtown? It’s too hot for that. I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A pool party. Why sweat your ass off with two million strangers when you can kick back in the Chase pool?”

“I don’t know. I—”

“Come on, Lainey. Mom is out of town. The house is all mine. You love my parties.”

I used to anyway. Back when they all ended with me and Jason in bed together. Watching him drool all over Alexandra might not be quite as fun. But she wasn’t at the soccer game, so maybe she won’t be there. Still, my first instinct is to blow him off. Then I think about The Art of War again, about seizing opportunities and rushing forth like floodwater and how no one benefits from prolonged warfare. Drawing things out just makes everyone tired. And weak.

I hate feeling weak.

“You can bring that Micah guy if you want.” Jason pauses. “Not going to lie, though. I’m hoping you don’t.”

Micah. I’m technically supposed to go to the Bottlegrate concert with him tonight. But if I’m going to get back together with Jason, this party would be the place to do it. He’ll be drinking. I can wear something sexy. He just saw another guy kiss me. It will capitalize on all of his weaknesses. And who knows what happened for him to invite me to a party? Maybe he and Alexandra are fighting. I shouldn’t let that opportunity pass me by.

“I’ll try and stop by,” I hedge.

“Whatever. Cancel your plans and get your ass over here around eight,” Jason says. “Because I know you love surprises and I have a surprise for you.”

Okay, so now I’m dying of curiosity. Jason was never the kind of boyfriend who surprised me. Sure, he bought me presents, but he always let me pick out stuff so he didn’t have to risk disappointing me. I can’t think of a single thing he ever surprised me with. Well, except for our breakup.

“I’ll try to make it, but no promises.” I smile to myself. Let him wonder.

“Okay. See you later, I hope.”

I hang up with Jason and bury my face in my pillow. “What now?” I mumble. I need help. I call Bianca. As usual, she picks up right away.

“What are you doing today?” I ask.

“I’m at a church picnic,” she says. “They’ve got thirty different types of chili here. You should come check it out.”

“No way. That makes me sweaty just thinking about it.” I pause. “Hey, I need to ask you a question.” I tell her about sort of having plans with both Jason and Micah. “What should I do?”

“Well, it’s simple. Who would you rather spend Fourth of July with?” she asks.

I think about Fair St. Louis and the Bottlegrate concert: Stars. Music. Fireworks. Micah. Then I think about Jason’s party: the chance to finally achieve what I’ve been after for the past month.

“The fact that it’s taking you this long to answer is interesting,” Bee says. “Did something happen with you and Micah?”

I blush. “He sort of kissed me at the soccer game,” I say. “But not seriously. It was part of the plan, you know? He was just trying to help me make Jason jealous.”

Silence.

“Bianca? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you were gone all weekend with your family and—”

“No. It’s fine. I’m just processing,” she says. “Was this unserious kiss so amazing that you’re having second thoughts about Jason?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I mean, it was nice, but just kind of a quick peck.” Okay, two. Whatever.

“So then what are you thinking?”

I let it all spill out. “I feel like I should go to Jason’s,” I say. “Jay and I make sense. Micah and Amber make sense. This is what we’ve been working toward all summer. Why screw it up now?”

“Because you and Micah like each other.” She continues before I can protest. “If he kissed you, he likes you. And I can tell you like him back. So why are you trying to avoid him?”

“I’m not trying to avoid him,” I whine. “But if I go to the concert, something will happen. Things will change and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I kind of like what Micah and I have right now. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Hang on.” Bianca says something to her mom and then comes back on the line. “I have to go, but I’m working tonight so I’ll be around to hear about whatever it is you decide.” She pauses. “But consider this: what you and Micah have right now is fake. One way or another, you’re going to have to give it up eventually.”

She’s right. I don’t want her to be, but she is. And I still don’t know what to do. I know what I’m getting into with Jason. I feel like there’s a chance it could work. Micah—no, that just feels unreal and impossible, like trying to be someone I’m not. What if I’m just sabotaging myself? What if I go with Micah and then wish I’d gone to Jason’s party? I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to mess things up with him and Amber either.

Maybe I should ask Micah what he thinks. I send him a quick text explaining that Jay just invited me to a party. I don’t tell him I spent the last ten minutes obsessing about what to do. If he seems pissed about me bailing on him, then I’ll go to the concert. If he doesn’t seem to care, I’ll go to Jason’s.

Micah calls me a few minutes later. “Nice work, Warrior Girl,” he says.

“So you won’t be mad if I go? I don’t want to cancel on you at the last minute.”

“No worries, Lainey. It’s a free concert. I’m sure I’ll run into some people I know. Maybe I’ll do like you suggested—give Amber a call and see if I can meet up with her.”

It’s exactly what I was hoping he’d say. “You are the best, you know it?”

“I hear that a lot.” He laughs lightly. “You’d do the same thing for me.”

He’s right. I would understand if he bailed on me for Amber. I mean that’s the whole basis for our relationship.

Friendship. Agreement. Not relationship.

I hang up the phone and start going through my closet in search of the sexiest thing I own. Near the very back, I find a killer sundress I bought a year ago on a sale rack and never wore. It’s turquoise, one of my best colors. The bottom is trimmed in feathers and the shoulders split into spaghetti straps that weave a crisscross pattern across my upper back. It’s totally to die for.

Totally to die for. I can almost hear Micah mocking me.

Smiling to myself, I jump in the shower and start shaving and exfoliating and deep conditioning everything. Tonight, I have to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect.

He wins his battles by making no mistakes.

The hummingbirds start sparring in my stomach as I jump in the Civic and cruise over to the Chases’ two-story Italian villa. Cars line both sides of the street. A clothesline weighted down with paper lanterns hangs across the front of the screened-in sunroom, and the lawn is brimming with jocks, preppies, honor students—everyone who is anyone at Hazelton High. I pass a handful of guys from the soccer team who are reclining on the grass, passing around a flask.

Jaime Martinez holds it out in my direction. “‘What’s up, Superstar?” he asks. “You playing in our game next week?”

“Maybe,” I say, heading inside. My eyes scan the crowd for Alexandra’s flaming-red hair. I don’t think Jason would have invited me if she was going to be here, but you never know. One glimpse of her boobaliciousness and I’m out of here.

I nod to a few people as I make my way through the cavernous living room. I notice that Jason didn’t bother to pack away any of his mom’s prized sculptures. Her collection of Asian-inspired pottery and white marble angels are arranged on a series of built-in shelves next to the fireplace. All that crap will be broken or stolen by sunrise, I’m sure of it.

A girl named Tamara from the JV soccer team grabs my arm as I head into the dining room. “If you’re looking for Jason, he’s out by the pool.”

“Thanks.”

Tamara keeps talking but I’m done listening. I squeeze past four guys from the football team playing some kind of drinking game with dice and cards and head toward the back of the house, through the kitchen, and out onto the deck.

For a second I just stand there, looking down at the chaos. The in-ground pool is lighted from beneath. The surface glimmers, casting distorted reflections of the three couples hanging out in the water. One of the girls is in danger of losing her bikini top, but she doesn’t seem to care. A pair of sophomore boys sit on lounges nearby, probably hoping for a show. Beer bottles and plastic cups bob in the deep end.

Other couples are snuggling on chaise lounges. Jay’s pal Dan Spencer is sitting with his feet dangling into the water, chugging straight from a bottle of Jack Daniels. As I watch, he bends over and spits on the lawn. He belches, wipes his mouth, and takes another slug of the whiskey. The bottle falls from his hand and spills out onto the concrete surrounding the pool. A girl sitting on the nearest lounge wrinkles her nose and moves to a chair on the other side of the backyard. I can’t tear my eyes away from the puddle of liquor. In a few minutes, it’ll probably start running into the deep end.