I’m seventeen, all my best friends are here, we have zero adult supervision—even less than we did at Huntshire—and I’m the guest of honor. Tonight is all about me. It should be one of the best days of my life.
But my dark mood is only getting worse.
Edward comes up behind me, hugging me.
“Hey,” I say, turning and melting into him. I know that things aren’t perfect between us—but right now, it just feels nice to have his arms around me. “I’ve kinda missed you.”
“Oh, yeah? I’ve kinda missed you, too,” he says. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. It’s been a stressful month. Dealing with family stuff. And December is bound to be worse, what with exams and the holidays.”
“So I’ve heard. Libby told me all about it,” I say, exaggerating.
Edward frowns slightly, releasing his hold on me. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. She said all the Firm stuff was really getting to you.”
Edward looks annoyed. “Oh. I see.”
I look at him expectantly.
He takes a sip of his beer.
“But it’s all okay?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah.” He changes the subject. “So, how mad are you going to be at me if I didn’t buy you that bracelet you kept hinting about?”
I’m disappointed—not about the bracelet, which I couldn’t care less about, but about Edward being so tight-lipped with me. Now I feel ten times worse than I did two minutes ago.
“Whatever you get me will be perfect,” I say, with a brightness I don’t really feel.
After the barn has filled to capacity, hobbits partying alongside scuba divers alongside samurai, the lights go down. Flossie appears, holding a cake with seventeen flickering candles. Everybody sings “Happy Birthday” to me, and I plaster a smile on my face, blowing out the candles as everybody claps.
“Thank you for coming—I love you all!” I say. “Now have some cake!”
“Yum!” Libby says, tucking into her piece. She’s reappeared after her mysterious errand. “Did you make this, Flossie? It’s delicious.”
She snorts. “Hardly. I ordered it.”
I turn toward Libby. “Do you remember when you made that strawberry short—” I stop when I see that she and Edward have their heads together, whispering about something. He’s nodding enthusiastically.
She catches me looking at her and clams up.
“What’s that?” I ask them suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Edward says, looking amused.
I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, because suddenly the sight of my boyfriend and my sister with their heads together irritates me beyond belief.
“I’m going to the loo,” I say to nobody in particular, walking away.
I walk out of the barn and head inside Flossie’s house to the powder room on the first floor. It’s a grand bathroom: the sort self-consciously designed to impress visitors. Inside, I stare at my reflection in the gilt-edged mirror, the low light flickering around the corners of my face.
Why were Libby and Edward whispering together like that?
He and I haven’t spent any significant time together in weeks. Meanwhile, he and Libby are now regular study partners. As soon as he started hanging out with her, he stopped hanging out with me. Are they more than friends? Is that why he was confiding in her? Was Flossie right?
Or am I just being paranoid?
I fix my wig, use my pinkie fingers to smooth out the eyeliner under my eyes, and blot my T-zone with a piece of tissue before heading back into the barn.
India is still lounging on a bale of hay, drinking a martini from a real glass, her wig slightly askew. As I start to make my way over, I’m stopped by Robert, the prefect from Stuart Hall.
“Happy birthday,” he says, stepping forward to give me a hug. We embrace awkwardly, his Sonny Bono wig caught in my lip gloss.
“Sorry,” I say. “Occupational hazard. I’m a wig killer tonight.” I reach up to straighten his wig. “There. Much better.”
“Have you had a good birthday so far?”
“Not bad. How are you doing?”
“Better now.” He smiles at me, little dimples visible in his cheeks, and then looks around. “Where are all your friends? No crowd of admirers?”
I frown. Suddenly, I feel like being honest. “I don’t know. I’m having an awful day.”
He looks genuinely sorry. “Can I help?”
“You can help me find my bloody sister and my bloody boyfriend. They seem to have snuck off. Again.” Robert raises an eyebrow, and I realize I might be a little tipsy.
“Again?”
“I’m probably just imagining it,” I say, shrugging as I look around the crowded barn. One of Grandmother Nana’s mantras is something she claims Elizabeth Taylor said: Never complain, never explain. “Sorry, I’m just in a funk.” A waiter walks by with a tray of wine and I pluck a cup off it, downing it.
I need to be alone.
“See you later?” I say to Robert.
“Absolutely.” He holds up his glass, clinking it with my almost-empty wine cup. “To you. Here’s hoping this year makes all your dreams come true.”
“You are so sweet,” I say. “I needed that tonight. Thank you.” I stand on my tiptoes, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes.
I snake through the throng of laughing students to the fields surrounding Flossie’s house. With each step I take away from the barn and the flickering heat lamps, it gets colder and colder. I’m shivering by the fields, trying to clear my head, when Flossie and Tarquin appear.
“How are you?” Flossie asks. She’s thrown an old jacket over her Poison Ivy costume.
“Fine,” I say morosely.
“You don’t seem fine,” Tarquin says, holding a beer as he gives me the once-over. “You should probably drink more.”
Flossie reaches over and wipes something off my cheek. “Is it Libby and Edward?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Look, I know everybody’s drinking tonight—but I just want you to know that I think it’s rude,” Flossie says. “Especially since you’ve done so much for Libby since she arrived. You’ve gone out of your way for her.”
“What’s rude?”
I want my suspicions confirmed.
I want proof that I’m not crazy.
Flossie and Tarquin look at each other.
“It may have been my imagination,” Flossie says, verbally backtracking.
“Is something going on between them?”
Suddenly, she’s coy.
“You assume when you see things,” Flossie says, “but maybe that’s all it is. Assumption.”
I look at Tarquin.
He shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “Damned if I know.”
I turn and look back into the barn, where Libby and Edward are now sitting on a bale of hay, their heads together as they talk to each other. Their body language is intimate, unmistakable. Libby seems happier and more confident than I’ve ever seen her.
“Give me that,” I say, grabbing the cigarette out of Flossie’s hand and taking a long drag. I hand it back to her grimly. “Thanks. Do you mind? I need a moment.”
“You okay?” Flossie asks.
“Yeah. Just had a little too much to drink.”
I’m out there facing the field, my arms crossed around my body as much for warmth as for emotional protection, for what feels like hours. I hear Libby’s voice behind me.
“It’s freezing out here!”
I don’t say anything.
“Wait. Are you okay?”
I shrug, my back still to her.
“Charlotte? Are you okay?” It takes me several seconds to turn around.