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palm, smiling mischievously.  Now, reeeeeead, Pheebs!
Bratlet, Phoebe thought affectionately as Jeremy snuggled
up next to her on the floor, and she began to read. Bijoux stuck
her thumb in her mouth the way she always did when she was
being read to, sucking softly and breathing loudly through her
nose as Phoebe turned the pages. It was ridiculous her little
sister was playing divorce court and before long her parents
would probably be visiting divorce court it practically defined
the word ironic. Even though she barely saw her father as it
was, Phoebe knew that if her parents split up for good, her
mother s moods would only get worse, and Phoebe really
didn t know if she d be able to handle it.
100
THE ELI TE
Please don t let them get divorced, Phoebe thought as the thick
paper sliced the pad of her index finger, giving her an excuse to
cry. Tears sprang from the corners of her dark, almond-shaped
eyes and rolled silently down her cheeks as she struggled to
keep her voice steady, and held on to Bijoux for dear life.
101
it s a
different
world
than where
you come
from . . .
Casey stood nervously in Meadlowlark Academy s shiny
chrome and glass Dining Hall, hugging the side of the Whole
Bean coffee kiosk like an infinitely shorter, curly-haired jailbird
Paris Hilton. Walking into the Dining Room with its three-
course meals designed by Thomas Keller, Pratesi napkins,
stainless steel salad bar, and Whole Bean coffee kiosk was like
stepping onto another planet, one where the aliens used lots
of Frederic Fekkai hair products, and overdosed on Frappuc-
cinos and Diet Snapple. And it couldn t have been more
different than the peeling, lime-colored cafeteria she d left be-
hind at Normal High, with its prepackaged mac and cheese,
frozen fish sticks, and greasy burgers.
The kiosk, a popular meeting place for caffeine-deprived
THE ELI TE
students before, after, and sometimes during class, was com-
pletely packed, and Casey had to sip her Apple Whipped
Caramel iced latte down to a manageable level to avoid spilling
the fancypants drink all over her spanking-new yellow sundress.
Usually, she hated stupidly overpriced, high-end coffee, but as
soon as she put her new clothes on this morning, she d been
fighting the slightly creepy feeling that she d become someone
else entirely. Someone who spent three hours in the bathroom
getting ready for school, only to then show up and order the
most preposterously complicated java on the menu. And her
new dress, and Jimmy Choo cork wedge heels borrowed from
Sophie s endless closet, only made her feel even more out of
place and less like herself whoever that was anymore.
Casey tried to breathe steadily, but with the amount of
caffeine rushing through her sleep-deprived system, it was hard
to keep her pulse from racing or her palms from sweating
around the plastic cup. Ugh she was the only person she knew
whose hands could sweat while holding an ice-filled cup. She d
sat up for hours the night before, giddy with anticipation and
fear, gripping her violin with white-knuckled fingers and practic-
ing scales with frenzied intensity, until Nanna s crackly, sleepy
voice yelled through the wall for her to  cut the crap and go
to sleep already. As she lay in bed, staring across her cluttered
room at her new dress hanging on the back of the door, she
couldn t help imagining what she d say to Drew when she saw
him today and what he might say back. So much for girls sticking
together, she thought, licking whipped cream from the rim of
her cup. I guess lust is definitely stronger than friendship. Not that
103
JENNI FER BANASH
you could really call them friends anyway. The thought made
Casey kind of sad. She hadn t known how much she missed
having real friends until she d moved away and lost them.
Even though Madison s offer to buy Casey the dress defi-
nitely crossed the line from acquaintance to something more
personal, Casey wasn t sure if she d ever get close enough to
Madison to really consider her a real friend whatever that
meant. Casey had never met anyone truly rich before now, but
she did know mostly from watching shows like Laguna Beach
and The Hills on MTV that people with money lived in a dif-
ferent world, maybe even a different universe. And standing
there in a ridiculously expensive dress she didn t pay for, for the
first time Casey wondered if she d been bought along with it,
and she didn t like the way it made her stomach suddenly
queasy, despite the mouth-watering aromas of fresh croissants
and roasted veggie omelets permeating the room.
In spite of the sudden nausea and the whipped cream filled
coffee or maybe in protest of it Casey s stomach started to
growl loudly. The girl standing next to her, wearing a pair of
heavily distressed Seven jeans and the same Imitation of Christ
tank Madison bought yesterday, paused while sending an
e-mail on her BlackBerry to give Casey a disgusted look.
 There s, like, food over there, you know, she said, staring
at Casey from behind an oversize pair of pink-lensed Gucci
aviators.  Breakfast? You ve heard of it? The most important
meal of the day? Casey opened her mouth, then closed it
again, unsure of how to respond. The girl s hair was straight-
ened within an inch of its life, and it stopped at her exposed
104
THE ELI TE
collarbones in a razor-sharp bob.  Or, there s always the rexie
table, she said, pointing at a large table farthest away from the
food, filled with a group of extraordinarily pale, wan-looking
girls whose collective body weight probably equaled one of the
Olsen twins. The rexies were bent over their textbooks, their
nutrient-deficient locks hanging limply around pinched faces.
A single, cut-up apple sat on a napkin in the center of the table,
and not one of the girls acknowledged much less ingested
the rapidly browning slices.  They re on the Kleenex diet.
Kleenex diet? That couldn t be what it sounded like, could it?
 They eat Kleenex instead of food, scarily hip-girl said in a
tone that insinuated that Casey was quite possibly the stupid-
est life form on planet earth.  Models do it to get ready before
Fashion Week, she went on, as if that explained everything.
 I m not . . . Casey said, stammering.  I mean, I eat.
The girl lowered her aviators, exposing expertly applied
black shadow flecked with silver glitter.  Sure you do, she
said, her voice a flat monotone. She gave Casey one final look
up and down before walking away, already engrossed in a
conversation on her wireless headset just as Drew Van Allen
walked through the doorway.
Casey s heart began to race and all at once she realized she
was totally panicking. She wanted to run out of the Dining
Hall and never come back or throw herself in his arms and
declare her undying lust. Why was talking to guys so com-
pletely stressful? Casey pulled her already out-of-control curls
behind her ears and tried to look contemplative as she studied
her apple latte like it held the riddle of the Sphinx.
105
JENNI FER BANASH
Drew shuffled over to the register, sunglasses on, and or-
dered a coffee. In his Triple Five Soul cargos and white button-
down shirt, his tanned arms protruded from the rolled-up
sleeves, he was even cuter than she remembered. In fact, he
was perfect. Would he even remember her? And, more impor-
tantly, would he even talk to her? Casey s thoughts raced as
fast as the caffeine rushing through her veins. Crap. Why do I
have to sweat so much all the time? Is my hair frizzing yet? Why
am I such a moron?
Casey smoothed down the polished cotton of her skirt as
Drew removes his shades, taking a long, greedy gulp of coffee as
he looked up, his gaze meeting hers. Drew s face looked totally
blank and the black sunglasses didn t help. Oh God, he doesn t
even remember me! Casey thought with no small amount of dis-
may, her stomach flipping over as she shifted her weight from
her left foot to her right. And these stupid shoes are killing me.
 Hi, Casey mouthed, scraping up every ounce of courage [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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