Ten minutes later, in the theater foyer, Sonia fought her way through the mob of parents, teachers, and students toward the packed refreshments tables. She kept her head low, trying to attract as little attention as possible—no easy task, in her sparkly evening gown and six-inch stilettos. Passing a stack of unused programs, she cringed. Entire event conceived and directed by Sonia Khan: The words sprang out at her from the cover in bold, size-sixteen font. Why, why had she put them there? Whose stupid idea had it been? She was about to seize the whole pile and hide them under a stray pashmina when she heard an indignant voice next to her.
“I simply cannot believe you condoned this display of teenage flesh,” a woman was saying. “I mean really. Near-nudity and racy dances in front of hundreds of people? Surely it was an accident waiting to happen.”
Sonia stole a glance at the speaker. It was someone’s mother. Around her, a group of stony-faced parents were glaring at Mrs. Traphorn.
“Bloody right. Not what I call ‘family entertainment,’” chimed in a red-faced man.
“No need to panic,” the headmistress responded soothingly. “In our opinion, students learn valuable lessons from experiences like this. But don’t worry, action will be taken. I intend to see to it personally.”
Sonia ducked past, hoping The Trap wouldn’t see her. The shit was clearly going to hit the fan. But that was later. For now, she was only worried about one thing.
“Hey, Bella,” she said, joining a group near the food.
“Oh hey, Sone.” Arabella Scott twirled a loose strand of hair and went back to drinking her champagne.
Sonia looked round hopefully. “Umm, did your dad enjoy the show?”
Flossy Norstrup-Fitzwilliam and Emilia Charles, who were flanking Bella, cracked up.
“Are you implying Lucian Scott’s into topless teenagers?” Emilia snickered.
“Yeah, like he’s some kind of pervert?” Flossy added, throwing a sausage into her mouth.
Sonia shot daggers at them. “No, I’m implying that maybe some people can see through a tiny mistake and appreciate other things. Like talent. And dedication.”
Bella shrugged. “Daddy doesn’t have time for that sort of thing. He left five minutes ago.”
Sonia’s heart sank. “Did he say anything about me? We were talking before the show…”
“He didn’t say anything about anyone. That’s probably the last time he’ll come to a school event. He hates amateur nights.”
Sonia reddened.
“Hey, Sone,” Emilia Charles broke in, nibbling on a piece of Stilton, “do you think you’ll be forced to resign as Charity Rep?”
“Ooh, maybe you should resign anyway,” Flossy said. “You know, like an apology.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Sonia swiped a glass of Pinot off the table and swirled it round, hating Dylan and Mimah more than ever.
Thanks to them, her film career might be over before it had even begun. If they thought she was going to forget about this, they could think again.
“I have never, ever in my life seen anything so hilarious,” George Demetrios chuckled, knotting his cashmere scarf round his neck against the brisk air. On the patio outside the theater, he, Alice, Tally, Jasper, and Seb had taken refuge from the throng of parents and were sharing a bottle of wine that they’d finagled from one of the caterers.
“Mate,” Jasper said, “seeing those puppies made the whole show worthwhile. That girl’s hot. I reckon she needs some loving.”
George chortled. “And I suppose you’re the love doctor, are you?”
Jasper grinned.
“You boys are repulsive,” Alice whined, even though she was secretly reveling in the gossip. “Hey listen, want to hear something even more hilarious?” She left a dramatic pause. “It was no accident that Dylan’s top fell off.”
“What?” George was so overexcited that flecks of his spit landed on Jasper’s blazer.
“Yeah. Mimah rigged it. She did it on purpose.”
“No way.”
“Want to bet?” Alice dug her fingertips into her jeans pocket—the trousers were too tight for her to fit any more of her hand in there—and produced the note. “See? I mean, what a bitch. It’s just brilliant.”
“Christ,” George said. “Genius. Seb, take a look.”
But Seb kept quiet.
“Oy. What’s your problem?”
“Dunno. Just don’t find it funny, I suppose.”
Alice glanced at Seb uncomfortably. Something bothered her about his silence, but she wasn’t sure what.
“Go on, mate,” George protested. “What’s not funny about seeing two giant tits on stage?”
“Fine, as long as it was an accident,” Seb said. “But on purpose? What kind of shit thing is that to do to someone in front of all their family and friends?”
“Dylan doesn’t have any friends,” Tally snickered. “So it doesn’t matter.” She passed the wine to Alice. “Hey, Ali, as if we didn’t see enough of Dylan’s boobs when they were plastered all over the common room. Right, babe?”
“Totally.” But Alice was hardly listening anymore. She pulled her jacket tightly round herself. There was something she needed to do.
“Mom, take me with you. Please, please,” Dylan begged Piper Taylor. They were standing in St. Cecilia’s parking lot next to Victor’s red Jag, with its flashy VIC1 license plate. Dylan hated that stupid thing. Didn’t he realize it basically said “Vicki”? Not that now was the time to worry about what a loser her mother’s boyfriend was.
“How can I face another day here?” she moaned, tugging on her mom’s Chanel suit. “Let me switch schools. Please, let me come back to London.”
“Oh, honey, now that’s out of the question.” Piper shook her head, grasping her black clutch in front of her as if to fend Dylan off. “You just started here three weeks ago. Since when are we a family of quitters?”
Oh, I don’t know—since you quit on Dad? Dylan felt like hurling back. She didn’t, though. If she said that, her mom might not want her around. She just stared at Piper with tears in her eyes.
“Now come on, sweetie, don’t cry,” Piper relented. “The people in the audience must have seen it all before.” She glanced at Dylan’s chest. “I don’t know how yours got so huge though, and I ended up with these.”
“Mom! Exactly how is that supposed to help?”
The car beeped. Inside, Victor tapped his Rolex and rested his head on his hands like they were a pillow.
What was this, charades?
“Coming, baby,” Piper said. She ducked into the leather seat and waved her fingers at Dylan. “Bye bye, Dilly. It was great seeing you. Now cheer up. Go back in there and show them.”
The door slammed.
“I already did ‘show them,’” Dylan mumbled to herself, striding away as the Jag’s red backlights faded like glowing embers into the misty dark. “That’s the whole fucking problem.”
She walked toward the lit-up theater, but as she drew near, a feeling of dread mired her feet in the grass.
Suddenly, a voice shot out of the darkness. “Dill, is that you?”
“Oh my god. Who’s there?”
Jasper von Holstadt was strolling toward her with his hands in his pockets. He cocked his head. “Chill out. So it is you. I hardly recognized you with your clothes on.”
“Fuck off,” Dylan snapped. “How dare you come out here to laugh at me? Why don’t you run off back to your friends? You can all be popular together.”
“Hang on a minute, I was only joking.” Jasper leaped between Dylan and the path to the Great Lawn. “I barely saw anything at all. No one did. Anyway,” he added, “you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Believe me.”
Dylan strained to see his face in the moonlight. He wasn’t mocking her, as far as she could tell.
“And by the way, I didn’t come out here to find you. I was actually wandering off for a smoke. Will you do me the honor?” Like a true English gentleman, Jasper offered her his arm. He was wearing a soft blue blazer that flawlessly suited his tall, well-built frame.
Dylan thought of her room in Tudor, dismal and lonely and stuffed with Sonia’s things. Sure, she could go back there to ride out the night in bitterness and rage. Or…
“Okay.” Tentatively, she rested her hand on Jasper’s sleeve.
Maybe, just maybe, her luck was turning.
Alice creaked open a heavy steel door at the back of the theater and ventured outside, careful not to let the overgrown thistles sink their teeth into her jeans. She was standing in a scrubby lot, which was hidden behind shrubs and overshadowed by the building’s fire escape. A line of trash cans lurked nearby.
“Hey,” she spoke into the darkness.
“Hey.” The figure in front of her, perched on a brick ledge, didn’t budge.
Alice felt her way forward. Not having been out here for a while, she couldn’t remember where the potholes were.
“Can I bum a cig?” she asked.
Silently, Mimah held out her pack of cigarettes. Alice sprang up next to her and struck a match, listening to the babble of voices inside the theater rise and fall like waves. It was only the girls and teachers left now; the boys had already been escorted back to school. She knew she and Mimah were safe out here, smoking. No one ever came this way except the janitor, as the two of them had discovered to their infinite convenience during GCSE Drama last year.
“So,” Alice said at last, looking straight ahead, “that was quite a prank.”
“Glad you approve.”
There was a pause.
“Did you do it because of me?”
Mimah shrugged. “I didn’t do it because of you. But I thought you might think it was funny. The juniors needed some spicing up.”
“Too right.” Alice took a drag. “Anyhow, thanks, babe.” She paused. “Go on though, you must have been planning it for ages. How long? And how the hell did you pull it off?”
Mimah winked and tapped the side of her nose. Wouldn’t you like to know.
They smoked in silence for a minute, getting close to the ends of their cigarettes.
“Hey, Mime,” Alice broke in, “are you coming to my cousin Coco’s engagement party at half-term?”
“I don’t know. Is that the one in Rome?”
“Yep.”
“I didn’t get the invitation.” Mimah’s voice was even.
“How weird, it must have been an oversight.” Alice picked a dried leaf off her jeans and inspected it between her fingernails. “Never mind, you’re invited now.”
Mimah flicked away her cig and hopped down from the ledge. “Then I’ll be there,” she said.
She turned her back to Alice and headed inside, secretly letting her mouth curl into the same smug shape as the new moon.
Not that Alice would have caught the smile anyway. She was thinking of other things by now.
She sat on the cold bricks for a long time, gazing across the lawn toward Hasted House and stroking, on her wrist, the dried blossoms of the daisy chain that she’d saved from this afternoon. Whatever T had meant to say to her in the fields would have to wait.
But for once Alice could deal with that.
She knew the two of them weren’t over yet.