Chapter Eighteen
A week after the Fourth of July, Travis Nielson was throwing a major kegger.
There was at least one party each summer in Mesa Valley that everyone found their way to. This year, everyone was going to Travis Nielson’s.
Travis was one of those rich kids who seemed to pass his classes with a smile. He was on the football team and it was training season. The rumor was his parents left on vacation without him. Travis got along with jocks and skaters alike, maybe because he always had weed on him. His house, in the exclusive Hawk Hill neighborhood, sat on five acres that backed up to the foothills, where a party could go on for days before drawing much attention.
“Come with us, Stacey,” Desiree pleaded as they pulled the covers onto the pool Tuesday after Night Swim. “It’ll be fun. Stay over! Girls’ night!” Desiree’s family also lived in Hawk Hill. Tiffany and Melissa were staying over, too, so no one would have to drive.
“What about me?” Chad asked, wrapping his arm around Desiree’s waist. “Why can’t I come?”
“Dude,” Mark said. “Let go of her and take hold of that corner. I wanna go home.”
“As if my parents would let you sleep over!” Desiree said. “It’s not like I won’t see you at the party.”
“You sure Melissa’s okay with me being there?” Stacey was still skeptical about whether Melissa could be trusted.
Mark chuckled. “Don’t worry, Chapman. My guess is this won’t be a night of Ouija boards and pillow fights.”
“That’s oddly specific.” Stacey smirked at Mark. She pushed the empty covers cart back up against the wall.
“Why does everyone assume I don’t know things?” He locked the chemical room door.
Desiree laughed. “I know that episode! You watch 90210 ?”
“Don’t judge me.” Mark feigned insult, moving over to lock the equipment room.
“ Melrose Place is better. More sex,” Chad said.
“You are both idiots.” Desiree turned back to Stacey. “Seriously, though, you should totally come. We’re gonna get ready at my house. Eat pizza. Walk over together.”
Staying at Desiree’s would be easier than trying to sneak in at home after midnight. “Um…yeah. I guess so,” Stacey said. Maybe this way her mom would never have to find out where she’d been.
“You’re going to a sleepover? Tonight?” Her mom poured coffee into a mug before leaving for work Wednesday morning.
“Is that okay? At Desiree’s house. She lives on Hillcrest.”
“In Hawk Hill?” Her mom looked up, skeptical. “ How do you know her?”
“She works at the pool. All the girl guards are staying over.”
“So, she already graduated. You’re…hanging out? Watching movies?” She eyed Stacey suspiciously.
“Is that a bad thing? Me hanging out with more girls?”
“No. Of course not. That’s not what I…” She took a breath and started again. “I’m glad you’ve made more friends. Will Desiree’s parents be home? What’s their last name?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why they wouldn’t be.” Stacey nodded. “Their last name is Fox.”
“Fox…Desiree Fox… Doesn’t ring a bell. Well, I…” Her mom looked at the clock. “Shoot, my first client is in fifteen minutes. I’ve gotta run.” She grabbed her purse and keys, then hustled toward the front door. “Have fun,” she yelled over her shoulder.
“K. See you tomorrow,” Stacey said as the front door closed.
Stacey slurped Cap’n Crunch Berries while packing her overnight bag. She surveyed her closet, searching for a cute outfit for the party. Murphy jumped on the bed and rested her muzzle on the canvas duffle.
Pivoting to add her cropped KROQ tee to the bag, Stacey noticed Murphy’s sad expression. Stacey stuck out her bottom lip. “Don’t look at me like that, Murph. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Murphy whined, wagging her tail, but held her spot on the duffle bag.
Stacey pulled the bag out from under Murphy and set it on the desk. She added boxers and a tank top to sleep in, a sandwich bag full of makeup, her toothbrush, and hairbrush. Before heading out the door, Stacey squished her pillow into the duffle.
She slipped into her flip-flops. “Be a good girl,” Stacey said, as she put Murphy on the back porch with a milk bone and a bowl of water.
She threw the duffle bag into the passenger seat of the Silver Bullet and turned the key in the ignition. The radio blared and Stacey rolled down the windows. She sang along with Stone Temple Pilots about not feeling like herself. Maybe not me is a little more of what this summer needs. Stacey released the emergency brake and backed down the driveway.
Coach Bob caught wind of the party. Afternoon swim ended, they pulled the cover over the pool, and were about to head out when Bob came in unannounced. Everyone was grabbing their keys from the lockers when he stopped them.
“I expect you all on time for your shifts tomorrow,” he said. He went around the room pointing his finger in their faces and looking each guard in the eyes. “Ready for a long day,” he said to Tiffany. “In the hot sun,” he told Stacey. “With loud kids,” he pointed in Chad’s face. “Got it?” he asked Mark.
“We’ll behave,” Tiffany assured him, then winked conspiratorially at Stacey.
“Yeah,” Stacey nodded. “We’ll be playing board games and eating popcorn all night in our jammies. Right, Mark?”
Bob shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Speak for yourself,” Chad said. “I’m not opening tomorrow.”
“No, but I still need you here—alive and awake—for night swim,” Bob reminded him. “Stacey, you’re supposed to be here at eight, along with Desiree and Jessie.”
“I’ll be here with bells on!” Stacey blinked repeatedly, pointing her fingers into the corners of her smile.
“Don’t worry,” Mark told him. “I’ll keep my eye on ’em.” He clapped Bob on the shoulder, then followed the other guards out the lobby door, holding it open for Bob.
“That’s exactly what worries me,” Bob said, turning off the lights. Once the doors were locked and Bob was heading toward the parking lot, he called out to the guards one last time. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”
Chad waved a shaka out the window of his Chevelle, then peeled out of his parking spot.
Stacey followed Tiffany to Desiree’s house, and they parked in tandem behind Melissa’s Mercedes. Stacey took her pack of cigarettes and lighter from the glove compartment and added them to her duffle bag before climbing out of the car. She looked up at the house on the hill and her mouth dropped open. Desiree’s house was at least twice the size of Stacey’s dad’s house, ten times the size of her mom’s. Stacey hesitated at the mailbox before climbing her way up the three hundred-foot driveway.
“Desiree lives here?” she asked Tiffany. “It looks like a Massachusetts private school!”
“Come on…” Tiffany chuckled, taking Stacey by the elbow. “Her parents are really nice. You’ll love them.”
The long driveway was shaded by huge oak and pine trees. More trees were scattered around the brick house, their trunks glowing with the light of the sun inching its way closer to the horizon behind them. White roses, and ivy climbed the three-story walls. Giant white columns flanked the front porch. Double-wide shiny black doors were guarded by a three-foot golden fox statue. His stare was menacing as Tiffany reached over his head to push the doorbell.
Desiree pulled open the large front door. “Yeah! You came!” She gave Tiffany a hug, then wrapped her arms around Stacey. “Come in.”
Despite the shaded yard and heavy brick outside, the inside of the house was bright white with gold accents and the white marble floor was studded by small black mosaic tiles. Stacey was afraid her filthy shoes might scuff it. The large, oval foyer was surrounded by a winding staircase reminiscent of old Hollywood.
“Leave your shoes in that basket. Otherwise, Belvedere will eat them.” Desiree pointed to a large basket on an antique armchair in the corner. “Or you can bring them up to my room. I never let him in there.”
Tiffany and Stacey slipped off their sandals.
“Belvedere?” Stacey asked, dropping the shoes into the basket.
“Our dog. He’s…” Desiree was cut off by a giant white labrador galloping into the room as if on cue.
“Woof.” Belvedere’s booming bark echoed across the tile. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.
Stacey bent down on one knee to greet him. Belvedere sniffed her, his drool spilling onto her leg as she scratched behind his ears. “You’re such a sweet boy.”
“Dad, call Belvedere!” Desiree yelled over her shoulder. “He’s being all gross and slobbery.”
There was a whistle from the far end of the house, and the dog gave Stacey one final lick before he trotted away.
“Come on. Melissa’s up in my room”
Having to choose between playing with Belvedere and going upstairs to see Melissa, Stacey would have preferred to be slobbered on by the dog. But she followed Desiree and Tiffany up the white-carpeted stairs, eyeing a giant crystal chandelier that cast sparkles on the surrounding walls. This place is fancier than a hotel.
Desiree’s room was at the end of the second-floor hallway.
“Look who came!” Desiree announced as they walked through the door.
“Hey,” Melissa said without looking up. She was seated on a large pink velvet bench in front of the picture window, her legs stretched in front of her and a magazine propped on her knees. A rerun of the Real World San Francisco was muted on the TV, and Sheryl Crow was playing through oversized speakers.
Desiree’s room was practically as big as Stacey’s entire house. There was a walk-in closet overflowing with clothes and the vanity was covered with perfumes and compacts of blushes and shadows. The attached bathroom had marble floors and a clawfoot tub separate from the shower. Why does one girl need all this?
On a large rug at the foot of the bed sat a pile of magazines, ripped apart, cut up, and surrounded by snacks. Tiffany picked up a bag of Cheetos and an Allure magazine, then squished onto the bench by Melissa’s feet.
Stacey looked around for her own place to sit. The desk chair was covered in discarded clothes. The bed was king-sized, expertly decorated with a pink, ruffly comforter and throw pillows, straight out of a fairytale, made for a real-life princess. She was afraid she would mess the bed up by sitting on it.
She sat cross-legged on the carpet, then picked up a bag of barbecue potato chips, munching on them while trying to make sense of the removed pages. Someone had used scissors to cut out certain parts of the people pictured, so a Cover Girl ad had Nikki Taylor’s mouth removed, and a girl’s body was cut from a Calvin Klein ad of a group in their underwear.
Covering the wall between the large TV and full-length mirror, pictures had been taped together and tacked up: Shannon Doherty's eyes and Cindy Crawford’s lips and iconic mole met in the middle with an unidentifiable, elfin nose. A black-and-white image of a wispy girl’s long legs and body paired with Soleil Moon Fry’s head.
The collage reminded Stacey of Ms. Moreno’s collection. There were at least a dozen pairs of perfectly appointed eyes plastered on Desiree’s wall. But it seemed like she had isolated all her ideal female features, then scrambled them together into various mismatched, Frankenstein-like characters.
“What are you wearing tonight, Tif?” Desiree called out from her closet.
“This.” She shrugged. She’d changed out of her swimsuit at The Plunge, but put on the same cut-off shorts and loose Cal State tee she’d worn all day with a pair of chunky Airwalks. “It’s gonna be dark. Everyone’s drinking. No one will be paying attention.”
“Ugh… yeah, I know!” Desiree came out in a lacy tank and cutoffs. She stood in front of her mirror and clipped her hair up, turning right and left. “But that doesn’t really solve my problem.”
Stacey leaned back against the bed and ate more chips, wondering what the problem was. Desiree looks adorable in everything. Super sexy, actually.
Melissa set down her magazine and joined Desiree at the mirror. Melissa had on a tight cropped tube top. Her miniscule Abercrombie shorts were cut very low on the waist and left nothing to the imagination. If it wasn’t for the zipper and belt loops they might as well have been swimsuit bottoms. Her abs and thighs looked professionally sculpted.
“This one’s cute, Dez,” Melissa said. “But I still think the pink ribbed tank looked awesome on you.”
“No way. My bra straps are too big,” she said. “I’m tired of waiting for my surgery. Then I can finally go braless and wear tops from Wet Seal.”
Stacey looked up. Surgery?
“Are you going to the same place Dawn went?” Tiffany asked, picking up a new Cosmopolitan magazine and sitting on the end of the bed, her feet dangling beside Stacey.
Dawn Chavez was a year older than they were, two years older than Stacey. She had always been beautiful, athletic, and popular. But when she was the returning Homecoming Queen in the parade the year before, she looked tiny, like she had lost a lot of weight. Stacey overheard guys in chemistry complaining that Dawn had “cut off her boobs.”
“Yeah, in September. I don’t move into the dorms until the end of the month.”
Desiree is getting breast reduction surgery? But she’s gorgeous!
“What’d Chad say?” Tiffany asked.
“Ever since that first fight at the beginning of summer, I don’t want to talk to him about it. He thinks he can change my mind.” She turned sideways and tried tucking in her tank, then untucking it. Pulling it up above her cleavage, then tugging it down again.
“You’ll feel like a whole new person when you start college,” Melissa said. “I’ve begged my parents for a nose job, but they keep telling me no way.”
“Oh my god, Missy! You so don’t need a nose job!” Desiree said, looking at Melissa’s reflection. “I need my nose fixed way more than you. My mom is a Spanish goddess, but because my dad’s Jewish I ended up short, pale, and everything about me is too big and round.” She looked back at herself, slumping her shoulders. “I need to marry a plastic surgeon to afford everything I need fixed.”
“I wish I had pale skin!” Melissa pulled her cheeks back. “No matter what sunscreen I wear, I toast like a coconut.”
“Ugh. Shut up. You look like a Hawaiian Tropic bikini model.”
Tiffany barely looked up while Stacey gawked at them. She never would have thought either Melissa or Desiree seriously wanted surgeries. How can they not see how perfect they are?
Melissa started applying white eyeliner while Desiree covered her shoulders with sparkle bronzing lotion. Then they each perfectly lined their lips into pouty bows. Tiffany stood next to them, twirling her soft blonde curls with her fingers until they bounced back into place. Melissa’s long dark hair hung smooth and straight down her back and Desiree’s shoulder length auburn waves floated over her collar bones.
Staring at them from behind, Stacey admired their petite bodies and perfectly primped make-up and hair. If she stood behind them, she’d be a head taller, and her shoulders and hips would be double the width of any of theirs. Their waists were small, and each girl’s tiny shorts fit just right, showing off tan thighs without any jiggles or dimples.
Stacey grabbed her duffle bag and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She looked at herself, wondering how she could possibly walk into Travis’s party with that flawless trio and not look like a total ogre. And, if anyone asked her about Jessie, she needed to appear believable when she announced he didn’t “measure up to her expectations.”
Stacey dug through her bag for her mascara and eyeliner, thickly applying both to make her eyes moodier. More mysterious. Instead of the cropped KROQ shirt she had planned to wear, she grabbed the white tank she brought to sleep in, and pulled it over her black bra. It was see-through enough to be obviously intentional. With her Converse, cutoffs and pack of Marlboros in her back pocket, she might pass as edgy. Opening the cabinets, she found hairspray, mousse, and gel, and used all three to transform her choppy bob into a sexy mess.
Stacey came out of the bathroom and the girls stepped back from the mirror to take her in.
“Wow, Stace! You look…dangerous!” Tiffany said, her eyes wide. “In a good way.”
“Wait, you need dark red lips!” Desiree said, digging through her makeup bag. She handed the tube to Stacey. “It’s a burgundy lip stain, so it won’t smear.”
Melissa grinned at Stacey in the mirror and nodded. “We’ll show Jessie we don’t need his loser ass.” She picked up the scissors from the floor. “Let me crop that for you.”
“No thanks,” Stacey said, looking at herself in the mirror. “Your abs are better for flaunting. Besides, I think I cut enough off this week already.” She fluffed her hair.
Melissa held the scissors and crossed her arms, turning to watch Stacey apply the red lipstick in the mirror. “You are going to help me make Jessie miserable, right? So that every girl ignores him?”
“That’s the plan,” Stacey said. She rubbed her lips together then puckered them at her own reflection. “When does the fun begin?”