Nice one, little sister, I cheered silently.
“Just to keep my friends company and pick up a few gifts,” Celeste explained, draping an arm around Garrett’s shoulders suggestively. “But you’re right, it’s time for me to leave. My chakras are extremely sensitive to all this consumerism.” She sniffed and turned toward the door.
“Um, right,” Garrett said, hurrying to catch up. He shot Emma one more venomous look before disappearing from view.
Emma slumped against the shoe rack, feeling drained. “She’s so weird.”
Nisha waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t let her get to you.”
“Oh, she’s not,” Emma said in her best Sutton voice.
“And don’t let Garrett bother you either,” Laurel said quietly. “He’s just jealous.”
Emma nodded, turning back to the shoes, but she wasn’t so sure. Garrett had seemed more than jealous at the Halloween dance. He’d seemed angry—violent, even.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Garrett’s face either. My memories of my ex were hazy, but I could still see his sweet smile, the gentleness in his eyes when he looked at me. I’d never thought he was capable of that kind of hatred. Was all that anger just because Emma wouldn’t sleep with him? The idea broke my heart a little. I had thought I’d known him better than that.
But obviously I didn’t know anyone as well as I’d thought I did, as Emma kept proving again and again.
14
THE SCHOOL OF BITCHCRAFT
Friday morning, Emma plopped Sutton’s red Kate Spade purse on the table in the pottery studio and slid into the seat between Charlotte and Madeline. A misshapen vase sat in front of Madeline. Charlotte turned over a bulky mug. Across from them, Laurel toyed with two tiny espresso cups. Pots of glaze were strewn across the table alongside paintbrushes of varying sizes, and paper towels.
“That looks awesome, Char,” Emma said after she collected her own long, footed pot from the rack. She pointed to the swirl Charlotte was painting on her mug.
Charlotte flushed with pleasure. “It’s just like putting on eyeliner,” she said.
“Okay, girls,” Madeline interrupted. “We have party details to figure out. It’s a week away, and we’re running out of time.”
Party? Emma almost said out loud, then remembered that Charlotte’s parents were out of town next weekend.
Charlotte propped her chin on her perfectly manicured hand. “I know a guy who can get us a few kegs. That and my parents’ liquor cabinet should be enough.”
Emma tilted her head. “Won’t your parents notice if anything goes missing?”
Charlotte snorted. “Please. They go through Tanqueray like water.”
“What about food?” Madeline asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “We’ll get some platters at AJ’s. I’ve been jonesing for their Brie en cro?te, anyway.”
Emma reached for the container of blue glaze, thinking about the parties she’d attended in her old life, where party snacks pretty much consisted of Doritos, Oreos, or a big bowl of Starbursts. She tried to picture Sutton’s friends at one of those parties and nearly burst out laughing.
Suddenly, the telltale jingle of silver on silver made her look up. Celeste stood at the door to the studio in a long loose tunic embroidered with shiny metallic thread, Garrett at her side. She leaned up and planted a wet, lingering kiss on his lips, then shot a pointed glance at Emma, as if to rub in the fact that she was with Sutton’s ex.
“Thanks for walking me to class,” she cooed, her voice low and dreamy.
Garrett touched one of her braids. “See you soon,” he said huskily. She hung on the doorjamb after he left, watching him until he disappeared around the corner.
Madeline’s jaw dropped open. Charlotte threw her brush on the table in disgust, then peered at Emma. “Um, why aren’t you more pissed?”
Emma shrugged, unscrewing the lid to the glaze. “I saw them last night at Saks. Apparently, they’re a thing now.”
Charlotte balled up her fist. “Well, he’s clearly going out with her just to get back at you, Sutton. There’s no way he actually likes her.”
Laurel cleared her throat. “Apparently, a lot of the guys think she’s really cute.” All heads whipped around to face her. She shrugged. “Thayer says they’re all talking about her, anyway.”
“Does Thayer think she’s cute?” Emma asked, wrinkling her nose. Celeste didn’t seem like his type.
Laurel rolled her eyes. “He says, and I quote, ‘She’s got a celestial body.’”
“Ew!” I said aloud, though no one heard me. That didn’t sound like Thayer at all.
Celeste entered the room, drifted to the rack of fired pottery, and removed a bowl, the bells at her ankles jingling with every move. On her way back to her seat, she paused at Emma’s table. She looked at Emma searchingly, as if she were trying to make her out through a dense fog.