Chapter 23 #2
Artie turned to face me and frowned. “Oh, you again. I’m doing wonderfully! I just got back from Zora Neale Hurston’s house. We’re working on a new magazine, so I’ll have
to make time in my schedule for it alongside my other rigorous demands. What have you been up to lately?”
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I pulled him behind a curtain where no one could see us. “Charlie told me every boy in White
House knew about the fire long before it happened. I can’t imagine that gossip would have escaped you, seeing as you work
in the newsroom and know everything that happens on campus.”
“They never said it was a fire,” Artie said levelly. “They mentioned a prank. Like the midnight games. They were saying it would be the biggest prank on Blue House ever made—how would I have known the
truth?” He looked uncomfortable but unwilling to take any share of the blame. “Charlie said if I stayed out of what they were
planning, his father would give me a staff job at his new paper once all was said. A real, stable writing job. Bigger than
the little Chronicle rag. The gossip was all just a stepping stool, you know—a way in.”
Artie looked at the floor, his usual shallowness slipping into something more thoughtful. “What I really wanted was to write
about stuff that actually matters. Human rights, poverty—the real issues.” Then he looked at me, covering up his emotions
with a smug sneer. “No one knew the building would actually burn down.”
“But you knew it would happen in advance. You could’ve done something when you saw the fire starting.”
“Or not! Do you know how fast fire spreads?” Artie scoffed and flipped his hair. “Why are you so eager to blame me? You might want
to ask Jay what he knew of the fire. Ever think of that?”
It dawned on me that this was the second insinuation in one night that Jay had something to do with it, but at the very least,
it stood to reason that he must have heard the rumors.
I refused to believe it. Jay would have told me. Jay loved me.
Artie was jealous and Charlie was a nut who’d been jealous of Jay his entire life. They could have each other.
“He may have fallen for your innocent act,” Artie said. “But I know who you really are. You are a destroyer of property, and my lawyers will be in touch.”
“People could have died! Maybe you didn’t know what the prank was about then, but you do now—and you seem not to care at all about people who were
hurt by it.”
“Because I didn’t do anything,” Artie retorted. “Why should I suffer getting blackballed by every family with a white boy at West Egg?
Everyone found their way out, didn’t they?”
“Artie . . . I mean this with the utmost disrespect. You are one of the messiest little girls I have ever met in my life.”
“And you? You’re a street rat on the path to ruin. Good luck in prison!” He threw his head back and cackled.
I put one hand firmly on his shoulder, and he froze. “You know why the Buchanans are so comfortable with you? Because you
have no real ethics. All you do is bring people down to prop yourself up.”
His face was a cracked pot of anger—all his insecurity melted from his eyes and spilled through the corners of his mouth. “And you? You will never be good enough for Jay Gatsby.”
“But he still likes me, so shove it up your ass.” I pushed past the curtain, leaving him alone, and smiled graciously at the
party guests, as if nothing had even happened.
“It was a bunch of people,” Artie said behind me, his voice small. “But Cannon started the one in your room, specifically.”
I turned around, thinking at first that I heard wrong. “What did you say?”
“Hmm.” Artie turned his nose up. “That’s why you should know the facts before you start cornering people! Gee whiz!” With that, he trotted away to continue his conversation with Stu.
He’d never lie about that, would he? Artie was one step away from being cut from the same cloth as that guy. Why would he
say that if it weren’t true?
I was careful to hide my reaction to this revelation. I kept my face neutral, like a well-behaved, nice young man. I would
show that I was good at dinner parties and good for civilized society and that I could speak like the queen.
I smiled at someone. Ignore me! Nothing to see!
And then, I found Jay again in the crowd standing at the table of pastries, stress eating lemon squares and licking the powdered
sugar off his fingers. He looked so beautiful with his hair laid like that.
I knew now how I wanted him. I didn’t want to parade around in the open air for people to gawk at us. I’d rather sit in the intimate quiet of a room and share bits of knowledge with my lover. Was that so wrong? To not want my life commented on by the public?
I grabbed Jay by the strong arm. When he looked at me, I had to resist the urge to kiss him in front of everyone.
I trust him, I reminded myself. I leaned in and whispered, “I think it’s time.”
When I pulled away, Jay nodded, still with some uncertainty in his eyes. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, of course.” Please don’t do this. Not after Charlie’s words. Not after Artie’s confession. Please don’t make me doubt you.
He had fallen so far from the hopeful rich kid he was, his sheltered balloon popped by the needle that is me. “Okay,” he said,
with reluctance. “I’m ready then.”
Jay was letting his mind torture him. Were his insecurities because I’d rubbed off on him? My confidence because he’d rubbed
off on me? We were no longer on a tightrope. We were together, through everything!
I saw Daisy up on the staircase with Mr. Gatsby, trying to catch my eye, and I nodded at her in confirmation. Mr. Gatsby was
standing still, a suspicious look on his face, but he didn’t do anything. He couldn’t, now that I was one step ahead.