“I have everything a person can want in life and yet I find it exceedingly unfair that I can say, with absolute certainty, that I will always be more attractive than whatever girl I am with at any given time.”
“Okay, the deep end just got kinda shallow.”
“I have been with a plethora of girls already. And while they were all very hot, not one of them has surpassed me in beauty. Why was I chosen to be so good-looking? Every time someone sees me with another girl they think, ‘He can do so much better.’ And they are right. I will go through life thinking I can do so much better. Thus, this is the tragedy of my life. Plagued by beauty. Who can I turn to, dear diary? And in parentheses he writes: Consider submitting this to our writers to create new song. ‘Plagued by Beauty’ as title. Secure a writing credit. Then he just drew a bunch of dollar signs and wrote, Boom! Shakespeare, bitch!”
“Yikes,” I said. What else was there to say? “Who knew Rupert X. was so … plagued?”
“By beauty, of all things.” Erin took her phone out of her jacket pocket and skimmed through the pages again, snapping as many pics of them as she could.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Because when you catch a fish this big you don’t just throw it back in.”
“Yeah, but what good could possibly come out of information like that? Especially the stuff about him hating the band. That could cause serious backlash for The Ruperts.”
“I think it was Mark Twain who once said, ‘YOLO.’ ”
Reading Rupert X.’s diary was fine, but why take pics unless you meant to do some major damage? And why was Erin so hell-bent on keeping Rupert P.? What Rupert P. said rang in my head again. I didn’t have the answers, not right then, but something about this wasn’t sitting well with me.
“We should probably get going. We aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Ugh, why are you constantly clutching your pearls?” Erin said. “If I ever teach you anything in life it’s that you need to stop being so safe. It’s just a tiny bit of trouble we’re getting ourselves into. The water’s nice. Jump in.”
“The boys could come back any minute, though.”
“So? Wouldn’t be the first time they find girls in their room.”
“Are we going to be those girls, then? Might as well take our clothes off and just lie here waiting for them while we’re at it. Whore the place up a bit.”
Erin shot me a look. “How very slut-shamey of you.”
I was only joking, but she was right. It wasn’t cool of me to say that. And by the way the air around us turned suddenly chilly, I knew even before she’d said anything that I’d said the wrong thing.
My phone buzzed.
How’s everything going?
Another text from Mom. I started typing.
Gr8. Erin’s mom let us make the pumpkin pie but we dropped it on the floor so we had 2 do it again. 2nd pie = perfect. We wanted 2 top it off with confectionary sugar but the corner bodega didn’t have any so we bought something called Inca Kola instead. Can’t wait 2 try it.
“If you want to go so badly, then leave,” Erin said, interrupting my typing. “There’s still a few things I want to check out.”
I hit SEND.
I was certain by then. Something was definitely up with Erin.
When I walked back into our room Rupert P. was looking at me.
He was looking at me because the tights/blindfold lay at his feet.
I stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back. With a smile on its face.
Rupert P.’s face was busted all on its own, but when he smiled he was an assault to my retinas. I’m sorry, I know I should stop being so mean about Rupert P.’s looks, something I know he can’t help (though he hasn’t really tried either, has he?). Actually, no, you know what? I’m not sorry. Erin says girls apologize too much. We say “I’m sorry” almost as much as we say “Hello.” And you have to believe me—Rupert P. really was so. Ugly. I can’t even describe it. He looked like an ostrich.
“Who took his blindfold off?”
Isabel was in the corner of the room, on her phone, natch, while Apple was in another corner, on her phone too, but looking way more guilty.
“I recognize your voice,” Rupert P. said. “Have a nice chat with your bestie, did you?”
I reached for my bracelet but then remembered what he’d done to it. I marched over to where Isabel stood. “He’s seen our faces now. How the hell could you let this happen? You were the one who kept reiterating the importance of the blindfold! He couldn’t make us, remember?”
“Yeah, well, Golden Delicious over there just had to look into his eyes to assure him that everything would be hunky-fucking-dory. By the time I realized what she was doing the blindfold was off and Rupert P. was looking me in the face. Fugmonster’s got that Medusa stare. I’m still spooked, man.”
“Apple!”
“Okay, okay, I know you’re mad,” Apple said. She was next to us suddenly, a meddlesome apparition. “But I think I’m getting to him. Showing him some kindness may be just what he needs right now if we want him on our side.”