Chapter 7 20 October 2016
A couple of weeks after the party at the Harringtons’ home, the scene of Elle and Theo’s dramatic split, Hannah found herself back in the good graces of both totems of Prescott royalty.
Her sympathy for Elle had paid off, as had standing up to Madison.
Her duties as Hannah’s new student liaison, none of which she’d taken very seriously to begin with, had officially ended several weeks into the school year, but she’d deemed Hannah intrepid enough to keep around. For now, anyway.
The girls’ ‘cold war’, as Bash had termed it, was over, at least for this week. At three-thirty on Thursday, Madison and a select group of guests – Elle, Bruno, Ethan and Hannah – were settled in her private wing of the DuPonts’ Carnegie Hill home.
The wing contained four rooms – a bedroom, study nook, lounge and en-suite bathroom.
Alex DuPont made do with a large bedroom and private bathroom on the opposite end of the co-op.
He and Ami were there now, availing themselves of Alex’s state-of-the-art gaming system (which stayed tastefully concealed behind panelled cabinetry when not in use, of course).
Hannah lifted a herbed chèvre and sliced pear tartine from a long, low table in Madison’s lounge, where they’d been artfully arranged on a slate tray by Inez, the DuPonts’ longtime housekeeper.
Along with the tartines, Inez had prepared parmesan shortbread coins; a fruit platter of figs, blood orange slices and pomegranate seeds; and small ceramic dishes of slightly warmed Marcona almonds and Castelvetrano olives.
And those were just the savoury snacks. The sweet offerings – almond and brown butter financiers and clementine segments dipped in dark chocolate – rested on a stoneware tray.
Somehow, Inez had whipped it all up in the fifteen minutes since Madison had texted to let her know she was on her way home with a few friends.
Beneath the platters and trays was a vintage linen runner, casually rumpled.
Hannah took it in, along with the cashmere shawl hanging forgotten from a lampshade and a signed copy of Night Sky with Exit Wounds, which had been dog-eared and left tented on top of Madison’s record player.
To be surrounded by beautiful, expensive things was a way of life.
To show them so little care was a choice in part aesthetic, in part adolescent.
Hannah bit into the tartine and tried not to get any crumbs on the faded – yet surely antique – Moroccan rug on the floor beneath her. It was good, sure, but she secretly missed the Cool Ranch Doritos waiting for her in the pantry at home.
‘So… do we think she’s really gone?’ Bruno asked before sinking his teeth into a slice of blood orange. It dripped down his chin, and Ethan leaned over to playfully swipe at his boyfriend’s face with a cocktail napkin.
After weeks of putting on a brave face, Prescott’s favourite lingerie-loving teen had been suspiciously absent from school for the past three days.
Rumours flooded the comments on The Upper Edge’s latest post, the most popular being that Gemma Phipps had dropped out – and enrolled in public school downtown.
Elle squared her shoulders and frowned at her phone, which was protected in a black leather Smythson case monogrammed with EMH – Eleanor Mabel Harrington. ‘Perhaps. I need to know which school. Then I can pull the enrolment records.’
‘How are you going to do that?’ Bruno crunched down on an almond.
Elle gave him a withering look. ‘I have my ways.’
‘Your ways?’ Madison asked. She was sitting on the rug beside Hannah, long legs stretched out before her, back resting against a moss green modular sofa.
She’d changed out of her Prescott uniform and into one of her dad’s old Oxford shirts, rolled to her elbows, and a pair of Aritzia lounge pants in Essential Cashmere.
Elle exhaled sharply. ‘I have a guy.’
In truth, Elle Harrington was that guy. Which is to say, Elle was fully capable of hacking into the NYC school district’s records database herself.
While Madison and Bash skated by on their legacy ties and Theo was an accomplished athlete (rowing, third seat), Elle took everything about Prescott seriously, including school itself.
Her math and computer science skills were top notch, something Mrs Harrington had made damn sure of through years of additional summer and weekend instruction for her daughter.
Elle would go to Harvard, would go on to a career in business or finance.
Sure, there was enough family money to ensure neither Elle nor her offspring would ever need to work, but a high-level job offered much more than money – it meant power.
All of which Elle kept closely to the vest. Ambition was considered a bit distasteful by those in her circle, and it was certainly not something she had any intention of sharing with her friends. She turned to Ethan.
‘Be a dear and get me the Phipps’ home address. They’re in the Lower East somewhere.’ She made a face. ‘That should narrow our search.’
‘But how—?’
‘Ethan Allen,’ Elle said, deploying the detested nickname. ‘Must I do everything?’
Madison’s expression was stony. ‘Can’t you see Elle needs us? Use a little ingenuity.’
Ethan’s face paled. The poor boy looked entirely at a loss.
‘I can get it.’ All eyes turned to Hannah. She pulled out her phone and brought up Oliver’s contact.
Heard from Gemma today? I know you guys are close…
Hannah felt just a little bit weird about deceiving Oliver, but she did feel bad for Gemma, whose life at Prescott this fall had been the dictionary definition of misery, with Madison and her followers stoking the flames whenever the heat died down.
There had been the relentless slut-shaming on The Upper Edge of course, something the entire school seemed to feel no compunction about participating in, save for Gemma’s few friends, Oliver included, and, notably, Theo Fitzgerald.
His show of self-restraint only further solidified the shared belief among his Prescott classmates that he’d most certainly been sleeping with Gemma, but Hannah wondered if it was possible that Theo was simply kinder than his peers.
He had, after all, checked in with Hannah several times during her first weeks at Prescott, introducing her to the student who ran the school paper when she told him about her interest in journalism, and encouraging her to switch into Ms Briar’s section of AP Bio.
(‘She’s kind of a hard ass, but she has the best connections when it comes to college recommendations.
’) He’d even offered to get together to brainstorm senior seminar topics.
The latter she’d declined, not wanting to rock the boat with Elle and Madison. But a part of her had wanted to say yes. Theo was thoughtful, undeniably cute, and for some reason she couldn’t entirely explain, Hannah didn’t believe the rumours about him were true.
Still, he was Elle’s ex, and therefore strictly off-limits.
But nothing was off-limits, it seemed, when it came to the crucifixion of Gemma Phipps.
The hate wasn’t limited to social media.
In senior seminar, the whispers were just loud enough for ‘desperate’ and ‘whore’ to carry around the table to Gemma’s ears.
Mr Harris had treated Madison and Bash to looks of deep disappointment and disgust, but they’d only taken the conversation into the hall after class.
On the day of the Harringtons’ autumn soirée, Bruno had made a show of giving her a fake invitation, insisting it was an olive branch.
That evening, he’d posted a video of Gemma showing up to the wrong address and startling two of Elle’s elderly neighbours, which had spread like wildfire.
The real coup had been just this Monday, which Madison had declared ‘Gemma Phipps Day’ at school.
All of Prescott had worn indecently rolled uniform skirts accessorised with splashy Balenciaga sneakers and layered logo pendants.
Hannah had barely understood the joke, but Elle patiently explained that no one from family wealth would be caught dead flashing designer logos or too much leg.
It was ostentatious – and tacky. Just like Gemma.
That was the last day she’d been seen at Prescott.
Oliver’s reply appeared on Hannah’s screen.
Yeah, she’s miz. Texted with her a while ago.
Did she really drop out?
Verified.
Fuck. Where’s she going to go?
Gramercy Arts. Why?
Cool. Ami and I probably would have gone there if we hadn’t gotten scholarships to Prescott. Hope she’s OK.
She switched out of her texts, a mix of triumph and self-reproach seeping in. True, they had looked at Gramercy Arts as a backup plan. But she was taking advantage of Oliver’s friendship, and she knew it. She turned to Elle.
‘Did you get it?’ Elle’s eyes flashed.
‘Didn’t get her address, but…’ She paused for effect, shoving down the voice in her head that said she should be checking on Gemma, not dishing to the very people who had driven her away.
But… Hannah’s desire to prove her worth was overwhelming.
Telling them what she’d found out from Oliver would mean cementing her place in their circle.
And the truth was, at the root of it, she needed that.
She missed Grace, and Jillian, and Cade, and the rest of her friends from home.
Madison and Elle were no replacement, but they’d made a space for her here.
She wanted to keep her spot, and besides, she’d seen what could happen if you fell out of their favour.
She drew in a deep breath, committing. ‘Gemma’s finishing out the year at Gramercy Arts High School.’
‘HAH!’ Ethan pumped his arm in the air, disturbing the fruit platter and sending the pomegranate seeds flying.
Madison laughed, unbothered. ‘Just leave it. Inez will get in here with the vacuum later.’
‘Ding-dong, the bitch is dead,’ Bruno deadpanned.
Elle flopped back on the modular sofa, her head landing on a stack of vinyl: Talking Heads, Joni Mitchell, The Mountain Goats. ‘We fucking did it,’ she growled.