Free Going Geek by Charlotte Huang

Hamptons.”
    “And, what, because I waitressed, now she won’t invite you?” The whole thing sounds highly improbable.
    “If she makes a big enough stink about this year being pointless—and let’s face it, she’s not going to suddenly discover a love for academics, so for her it’s going to be all about meeting important people—my whole family could get uninvited. We’re the ones who suggested she come here. And my dad will absolutely blame me if that happens.”
    Far be it from me to claim to understand the ways of socialites in training. “Well, can’t you just watch the movie again? My mom’s name is on the opening credits. Or check IMDB?” Even as I say it, I’m cringing. Is this really the level we’re willing to stoop to so we can convince Lila that I’m worthy?
    Whitney’s shoulders slump. “I’m trying to get her off the topic, but she’s like a dog with a bone. When she senses weakness, she goes straight for it. By the way, it doesn’t help your cause at all that Leo dumped you when he found out. And now you don’t even have the hot-boyfriend thing going for you.”
    After a speechless minute, I finally come to my senses. I can’t even address the Leo part. “Have you completely lost it? Guess what? I don’t live on the Upper East Side, so I really don’t have to care what Lila thinks.”
    Whitney shoots a startled glance in Lila’s direction while motioning for me to keep it down. She looks at me with pity. “Not yet, maybe. Look, it’s in your own best interest to lie low for a while. Everyone will just assume you’re nursing your broken heart—which is totally understandable. Then Lila will have a chance to settle in and hopefully warm up to you.”
    “And if she doesn’t?”
    “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
If
we come to it. I mean, you’re my friend. She’ll get on board at some point.” Whitney gives me a wry smile but then returns to her spot without a backward glance, rearranging her skirt and hair until they’re picture-perfect.
    —
    “Nobody here would ever do that,” Opal protests when I confront her. She and Raksmey are sitting in our room, doing homework on the second freaking day of school. Opal’s on the floor, and Raksmey sits behind her on the bed.
    “We might have overstepped out of concern and because we’re trying to get to know you, but we’re not gossip mongers,” Raksmey says.
    “Then why does everyone keep saying that Leo and I broke up?”
    “Maybe because you did,” Raksmey says. Opal reaches back to give her a light slap on the leg.
    “But is that something you’re telling people?” I ask.
    Opal sighs. “We already told you: no.”
    “Believe it or not, we had lives before you moved in,” Raksmey says, earning another slap from Opal.
    They look at me with so much sympathy that I know my desperation must be coming across loud and clear. Suddenly I don’t know what to do. I run outside and sit on the porch, praying that no one else comes by. Every single person who’s mentioned Leo to me thinks that we’ve broken up. The realization that I might have fooled myself into believing something completely different from what Leo meant feels unbearably humiliating.
    I watch the path, ready to escape if anyone approaches. Not that I have any idea where I’d go.

T hat afternoon I slip out of Images of Women in Film before I have to face Remy—or deal with him avoiding me—and join Opal for dinner in Lower Left. She’s eating with the Vegan Club (all four members are present and accounted for), but the upside is that no one I know would be caught dead in here.
    Opal and her friends mostly ignore me while I pick at my fettuccine Alfredo, which is the closest thing to vegan I could find that would actually fill me up. Having no interest in or obligation to follow the conversation, I just sit there in my own world, staring into space.
    On our way back to Abbot, Opal seems a bit disgruntled, which I can only tell because