Interplay

Chapter 1

‘Ivy, I dare you to make out with that random guy.’

As Alicia Silverstone’s character in ‘Clueless’ would say, AS IF.

‘Lauren, don’t be stupid,’ I replied, annoyed. ‘That guy is wearing the fugliest shirt I have ever seen. Plus, just because your uncle is the ruler of the free world, doesn’t mean I have to do what you say.’

Summer vacation was coming to an end, meaning junior year started in a weeks’ time. A good reason to have a drink or two. Thank God for impromptu parties in the Hamptons.

‘Hey, the title of First Niece has got to have some clout. By the power invested in me, by association with my Uncle George, I dare you to make out with that random guy. He’s totally checking you out,’ she insisted.

‘Every guy is checking me out,’ I pointed out.

Well, it was true. And I was drawing even more attention to myself because I was wearing a killer Proenza Schouler dress. Unfortunately, when you attract the eye of a potential hook-up, you also get complete randoms drooling over you. Gross.

I glanced over to the random guy Lauren was talking about (not an obvious glance, because I wouldn’t want to give him false hope by making eye contact). I had never seen him before. He was probably a nobody then. I knew everyone worth knowing, and the guy wasn’t a Greenwich Prep student either. Besides, he looked so out of place…

‘Looks like a surfer. With glasses,’ said Paris, who was drunk already. ‘I’ll take him if you don’t want him. He’s my type.’

‘Everybody’s your type,’ Ivanka smirked.

Heh. Paris walked straight into that one.

‘You’re judging him by his hair, Paris. The plaid suggests he’s like a farmer or something,’ I corrected.

‘Hey, now he’s talking to Ivana. Ivana from school,’ Lauren observed.

Sure enough, Ivana had gone over to him and introduced herself. She seemed really excited. They started talking and laughing like they had instantly found out that they had something in common.

‘Okay, if he’s talking to Ivana, then he’s definitely a loser,’ Paris said.

‘Maybe he’s on the swim team then,’ Ivanka wondered.

‘Assuming he even goes to our school,’ I said. ‘Which I doubt. Let’s stop talking about him, because I don’t give a f*ck about who he is.’

At that moment my ex-boyfriend Louis stumbled into the room. Okay, cue to exit. You see, I had made the mistake of actually attaching myself to someone for longer than a week and now I was paying for it. Because now he won’t leave me alone. Begging for a second chance. So pathetic.

‘I’m going to get more vodka.’

This also meant ‘I have to leave because Louis is coming towards us’. My clique understood.

Heading towards the bar meant that I had to actually walk in the direction of Ivana and random-guy-I-didn’t-want-to- make-out-with. But the house was huge, and there were heaps of people here, so the chances of being sucked into a conversation were low.

Well, in theory.

Come to think of it…communism also works in theory.

And just my luck…she managed to grab my arm just as I was walking by. Jeez, athletes can be strong. Couldn’t shake off her grip quite so easily.

‘Hi Ivy, how’s your summer been?’ she asked happily.

‘Er, great,’ I said, without much interest.

I had motioned to walk away already but she kept talking anyway. I wished the music had been louder because then I could have pretended that I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

‘Have you met Aaron?’

‘Well I have now.’ Don’t make eye contact with either of them. ‘Neat.’

And then I walked away successfully, making it look like there was somewhere important I had to be. I got to the bar and made myself a martini. I started to look around for the jar of olives, but then I saw Richard coming towards me. Another cue to leave. I didn’t want to be the girl who hooked up with the Abercrombie guy at the Hamptons party. Sounded so clichéd to me.

I walked back in the direction I came from, being careful not to spill my drink. I had been wearing Manolo Blahniks since forever and had developed excellent stealth skills as a result. If I were to fall over or stumble, it would have been due to some klutz pushing me or bumping into me.

So imagine my outrage when I was bumped and my drink spilled all over my dress. I stood there looking down at my dress and my shoes, in shock. I then looked up and saw a remorseful…

‘You!’ I snarled at the farmer/surfer random guy. ‘Do you have any f*cking idea how expensive this outfit is?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said casually in his…what is that…Southern…no…Californian drawl. He grinned apologetically at me. How dare he smile at me.

In hissy fit style, I threw the martini glass down on the floor. It smashed and I stalked off without looking back once. Time to bitch about the incident to my friends.

What an idiot. Probably bumped into me on purpose so he could talk to me.

My only consolation was that I’d probably never see him again.

Chapter 2

The night before school started, I was as annoyed as ever. So annoyed that I couldn’t get to sleep. I just laid in bed, stiff as a board, staring into the darkness of the dorm room.

The school had assigned Cassidy Wilkinson as my dorm-mate. What kind of sick joke were they trying to pull? The girl is a complete frickin try-hard, she laughs at her own jokes because nobody else will. Her hair is so frizzy it practically screams ‘I’ve just been electrocuted’. But the worst thing about a try-hard is that they think you’re their new bestest buddy, even though you’re not.

Earlier, she freaked me out by hugging me when I walked into the room. I dropped my suitcases (yeah, they’re probably scuffed now too) and stiffened. My own mother doesn’t hug me. In fact, the last person who had the nerve to hug me was my Great Aunt Bertha. She suffers from delusions, you know. She lives in a mental hospital in England and thinks she’s Queen Elizabeth I. She yells obscenities at this other crazy lady, who happens to think she’s Mary Queen of Scots. Anyway, the point is, I’m not very approachable. I’m an ice queen. You’d have to be nuts to hug me.

I was supposed to be rooming with one of the girls in my clique. I put in the ballot form before summer started. I was told I’d probably be with Lauren or Ivanka. So why am I with Cassidy? Everybody else got to room with the people they thought they’d be rooming with.

My parents are on the school board. Who would have the nerve to do this to me? Somebody should get fired.

I continued to fume about the situation. I was also pissed that Louis had sent me five messages on my cell. Thank god the boy’s dorm building is half a mile away. If it was any closer he’d throw stones at my window to try and get my attention. I had to avoid the boy’s dorm on the way here, couldn’t even say hello to any other guys or meet the new ones.

Cassidy stirred, rolled over in her bed and then started snoring. Excuse me? I didn’t give her permission to snore. What’s with the spontaneous snoring, huh? Did your nasal passages get bored or something? Ugh.

What a crappy start to the new school year.

***

The next morning I was pulled out of homeroom and summoned to Headmaster Heston’s office. However, he was not correcting the dorm room assignment. He just gave me a speech about how I had to welcome the new juniors, because as Junior Class President I had a duty to be…welcoming. Well, let me roll out the welcome mat and bake someone an apple pie. Not. Psssh, I can’t bake to save my life (though I can’t imagine a situation where I would need to bake something to save my life).

‘So, how many new students are in our class, sir?’ I asked him.

‘Um, let me check.’

He flicked through some papers on his desk, kept flicking, shuffled them around a bit. Flick, shuffle, flick, shuffle.

‘Here we are,’ he said when he found the right piece of paper, in his monotone. ‘One.’

‘One?’

He gave me a ten minute speech about welcoming one new student? I have to look out for this one person, make sure this one person is settling in well at Greenwich. I’m not a babysitter. I’m not into following people around, making sure they’re well fed, toilet-trained or whatnot.

Apparently the new student was an exchange student.

‘From which country, sir?’ I asked politely.

Flick, shuffle, flick, shuffle. Shuffle, shuffle, flick, flick.

‘They’re not from overseas.’

I didn't understand what he was on about then. I looked at him, expecting more information. But he said nothing. He just handed me a manila folder with the student’s details. He dismissed me.

I was running late already because of his speech, so I had to jog to my locker. I shoved the folder into my locker without looking through it, grabbed my chemistry books and headed towards the labs. Luckily they weren’t that far away.

My class was in Lab 6, so I opened the door and Mrs Luntz looked up at me with a ‘why are you late’ expression.

‘I was in a meeting with the Headmaster,’ I said, with a bit of a dirty look.

‘What sort of meeting?’ she spat.

Like it’s any of your business.

‘Well, as Class President, I needed to be briefed on certain matters before the school year got underway.’

She gave me a stern look, so I stared her down and then she told me to find a seat. Lauren and Ivanka waved me over. And Paris too. Paris decided to take chemistry? That’s a little whack.

Mrs Luntz started to talk about what we were learning about this semester. Lauren nudged me.

‘Ivy, you were late, so you missed the introduction of the new guy,’ she whispered, with a bit of a giggle.

‘Really? Point him out, Heston says I have to ‘welcome’ the new kid,’ I whispered back.

‘Over there.’

I looked to my right and didn’t see anybody I didn’t already know. John, Martin, Ivana, Tom, Paul, Lindsay. Huh?

‘Farmer/surfer guy,’ Paris hissed at me, annoyed at my blindness. ‘Sitting next to John.’

What?

Sure enough, that guy from the Hamptons party was indeed sitting next to John! He looked really different. In fact, he looked much better in the school uniform than he did in that 'plaid shirt get up' from before. Didn’t change the fact he totally ruined my Proenza Schouler dress, though.

‘He goes here?’ I asked incredulously. ‘I don’t get it…’

‘He won a medal at the Olympics like a month ago. He’s here cos his coach is the school’s new swim coach,’ Ivanka explained.

‘But…what…’

I couldn’t believe that that idiot was the new student. The couture-ruiner!

I began to stare at the back of his blond head, in like anger or something. And then before I could look away, he looked to his left and caught my eye. He recognized me and winked. I looked away in disgust.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that Paris pointed out I was blushing.

Yeah, well…Paris shouldn’t even be in this class, she’s not smart enough to take chem. What does she know?

That's right. Nothing.