On the second floor, endless bedrooms opened off a wide hallway. Kate had told them yesterday to take their pick, and Aubrey chose the poky one at the end of the hall. Servants’ quarters, Kate called it. But the others were much too grand, if a bit musty and neglected. She’d worry she might break something and have to pay for it if she slept in one of those. Kate had taken the same room she’d used when she was a girl. It was large and airy, with a four-poster bed and tall windows that looked to the sea. Plus it had an air conditioner, which, Aubrey discovered too late, hers didn’t. Who cared anyway? She hadn’t slept in her room last night, and if her plans worked out, she wouldn’t sleep there tonight either. But where was everyone?
Aubrey went to the closed door of Kate’s bedroom, raised her knuckles to knock, and stopped short. Wild cries filtered out into the quiet of the afternoon, startling her. Who was in bed with Kate? Her eyes welled up at the thought that it might be Griff. Last night, something had happened between Aubrey and Griff, who’d long been the object of Aubrey’s all-consuming crush. Admittedly, they’d both been high out of their minds, but still, Aubrey hoped with all her heart that it meant something. That it at least meant he liked her, a little. But was Griff in bed with Kate now? Kate and Griff were so alike. The sun-streaked hair, the fine profile, the glossy skin. They’d traveled the whole wide world, and knew the same people and places. With Kate in her way, Aubrey had no shot with a guy like Griff, and having a shot with him mattered very much to her. Kate already had everything a person could want, where Aubrey had nothing. If there was a chance with Griff, she would throw herself at his head with no regrets. But if there was no chance, she really shouldn’t humiliate herself. She should try not to, anyway.
Aubrey reached for the doorknob. She had to know who was in bed with Kate. She opened the door slowly, taking care not to let it creak, and breathed out in silent relief. It was Lucas on top of Kate, thrusting, gleaming with sweat, his naked butt white against his tan. (Why did everybody tan except her?) Neither of them noticed her, and she shut the door softly and retreated to her room, mollified.
Last night, after Jenny and her date went off to an early bed in separate rooms, Aubrey and Griff and Kate and Lucas had stayed by the pool and smoked the most powerful weed Aubrey had ever encountered in her life. After that, when they were already floating, Kate convinced them all to drop half a tab each of—what was it? Ecstasy? Something else? Aubrey liked drugs. She liked how they made her forget the difficult things—her dead mother, her dim prospects, the deficits in her personal appearance. And she loved how they brought her closer to Kate. But she needed to learn her limits. Last night got out of hand. They were straight-up tripping. Aubrey lay paralyzed on the lounger and watched constellations expand and contract, unable to speak or even move her arms, for a very long time. After that she remembered standing on the cliff’s edge, watching the waves crash below in the moonlight, holding hands with Griff and talking about whether if they jumped from there they would land in the water. In the light of day she knew how crazy that was, how close they’d come. The beach was a hundred feet below; they would have died. But they didn’t. Later, when the sky was pink with cool dawn, she and Griff were alone by the pool. He sat on a lounger. She knelt on the hard concrete deck, doing what she’d seen Kate do to him in the snowy park, the night she found out her mother was sick. She could still feel his hands, stroking her hair. She looked up at him and saw the tears on his face, and thought, He’s so sad. Aubrey couldn’t stand it if that was their only encounter and he cried during it. She reached for her backpack and took out a hairbrush and a tube of lip gloss. She would go find Griff, and make him feel better.
15
On the morning of the third day of their trip to Jamaica, Aubrey opened the blinds in the bedroom where Jenny was sleeping and shook her by the shoulder.
“Jenny, wake up. Wake up. Griff left,” Aubrey said urgently.
Jenny mumbled to leave her alone and turned over, throwing her arm over her eyes to blot out the light. Samuel the caretaker kept the rum punches flowing all night. She was hungover for the third morning in a row, and the sunlight hurt her eyes.
“Griff left without us,” Aubrey said.
“Huh?”
“Griff went to the airport without us. He’s gone!”
“Shit,” Jenny said, sitting up so fast that her head spun and her stomach lurched. “He’s our ride. How will we get home now?”
“That’s all you’re worried about?” Aubrey said, a note of hysteria in her voice.
“What else?”
Jenny looked more closely at Aubrey and saw what a wreck she was—sickly pale under a nasty sunburn, with purple circles under her eyes and fingernails bitten to bloody stumps.
“Did you sleep with Griff?” she asked.
Aubrey nodded and started to cry.
“How did that happen? Was it last night?” Jenny asked.
“No, it was actually yesterday afternoon. You remember, when you went to the beach?”
“Yes?”
“I’d been asleep by the pool. Kate, I guess, went off with Lucas.”
Jenny looked away, upset. “Yeah. I know.”
“I woke up, and went looking for—well, anyone. I found Griff—packing. I tried to talk him out of leaving. I succeeded, at least temporarily. One thing led to another, and we … did it. But I’m afraid it was just, like, consolation for him, you know?”
Or revenge, Jenny thought. “Oh, Aubrey. And it was your first time.”
“Please, don’t tell anyone that. My God, whatever you do, don’t tell Griff I was a virgin. I’d be mortified.”
Jenny shook her head in bewilderment. “It’s not a crime.”
“You know what I mean. People already think I’m weird. Promise me.”
“Of course I won’t tell Griff. What did he say to you exactly?”
“That he couldn’t take Kate’s attitude anymore. That she was crazy, and he had to get out of here.”
“So he left us in the lurch?”
“He wasn’t thinking about us. You know how Kate messes with his head. He wasn’t himself.”
“Stop making excuses for him. You should worry about yourself.”
Jenny’s well of sympathy for her roommate was running dry. Normally she would reach out and hug Aubrey at a moment like this, but a new feeling of distaste at Aubrey’s hopelessness overtook her. She had enough stress, keeping an eye on Kate’s drug use and erratic behavior, brooding over whether it was time to tattle to Keniston, without worrying about Aubrey, too. On top of that, she had a raging headache, and the bedroom had no air-conditioning. It was ninety degrees and close despite the open window, and she could smell Aubrey’s stale sweat.
“Look, I need a shower, and strong coffee. We’ll talk later.”