Page 9 of Old Money
***
“Ah-hah!” Caitlin called from inside her closet. “Found it.”
She stepped back, holding up the dress. It was cool white and shimmery, with a stiff, poufy skirt.
“I got it last year for Spring Fling.” She held it in front of her. “But then I had to skip it.”
She made a pouty face, rubbing the opalescent fabric between her fingers. Her nails were painted baby blue.
“Oh yeah, you got mono!” I said, my voice loud and chirpy.
Caitlin turned her head and gave me a sideways smile.
“Good memory.”
I shifted on my feet, cheeks prickling.
“Anyway, it’s not reallymeanymore. But...” Caitlin held the dress out at me, the skirt gently rustling.
“Oh. Um.”
“You don’t have to. I just thought it would be so cute on you.”
I stood awkwardly in the middle of her messy room—partly because there was nowhere to sit. Every surface was covered inclothes, including the unmade bed. The real issue though, was that I couldn’t sit in my own dress. It was the same one I’d worn last July—a cap-sleeved shift that fit just fine a year ago—before my body turned so suddenly, horrifyingly pubescent. I was somehow both longerandrounder, and my shoulders had seemingly widened by a foot. After getting dressed that evening, I’d come out of my room crying, stuffed into the dress like a human wearing doll clothes. Mom had insisted I looked lovely, but I knew she was just saying that because it was too late to find something new.
My face was still red when we got to the Dales’ house, and Caitlin whisked me to her room while she got ready.
“No pressure,” she said now, still holding out the shiny dress. “Totally get it if you don’t wanna change. My mom used to pull that with me all the time, and it drove mebananas.”
I looked at it, swinging on the hanger like a silver bell. A tiny smile crept over my face.
“Yeah?” Caitlin grinned back. “You sure?”
I nodded.
“I love it.”
“Yay!”
Caitlin ushered me into her en suite bathroom, leaving the door ajar—possibly by accident? I wasn’t sure. Among the older girls at school, casual nudity seemed to be a signifier of cool-girl friendship. I’d once seen Caitlin doing a crown braid for one of her swim-team friends, wearing nothing but her swimsuit, rolled down to the waist. I’d relayed the anecdote to Susannah, realizing as I spoke how creepy it made me sound—like I’d been spying. But Susannah had grabbed my arm and whispered, “Iknow, Anna told me! That isbananas!”
***
That was Caitlin. She was the trendsetter on whom we all spied, picking up her mannerisms without even noticing. “Bananas” was a Caitlin thing. So were crown braids. That fad had picked up so suddenly that even she noticed. (“It’ssoembarrassing,” she’d told me at Thanksgiving, murmuring in a confessionaltone. “You know why I do my hair like that sometimes? So I don’t have to wash it. It’s my gross-day hairstyle.”) I’d relayed this to my fellow sixth graders, and soon all of us were showing up with unwashed, floppy braids that looked nothing like the honey-gold crown on Caitlin’s head.
It wasn’t just us. Everyone was a little obsessed with Caitlin—teachers, parents.Keep your eye on that one, they’d say. As if we weren’t already. Caitlin was the one they trotted out for school tours and included in every Wheaton catalog. Caitlin wasn’t an academic whiz kid like Theo, and she didn’t win every award. But she was the unchallenged star of our school. And that wasbeforeshe started dating Patrick.
Allegedly dating, that is. They hadn’t gone public, but everyone knew. It had started sometime after Christmas break, though we couldn’t pinpoint when. Patrick had reportedly given Caitlin a ride home in January, and someone claimed they saw them making out at the multiplex later that month (this though was unsubstantiated). The whole thing was just a rumor until February, when Patrick sneaked out of the senior section during assembly, and ducked into the junior rows, sitting in the seat directly behind Caitlin’s. He’d held a finger to his lips, then leaned forward and quickly squeezed Caitlin by the shoulders. She’d glanced back, guffawed at him, then rolled her eyes and faced forward, but with an enormous smile. At that point, I don’t think anyone was looking at the stage.
The whole school remained riveted by Caitlin and Patrick’s public flirtation. People turned to watch whenever they so much as walked down the hall together. I’d even overheard two teachers discussing them behind me in the dining hall: “Did I hear that right? Caitlin Dale and—” “That’s what I’m told. Thought she was smarter than that.”
I’d been startled by the comment, especially from a teacher. I kept it to myself (and Susannah, of course), but I’d been dying for an excuse to tell Caitlin. And then to say something like:Can you believe that? What does that even mean?And then to ask her everything about her and Patrick.
***
“How ya doing, babydoll?” Caitlin called to me.
“Uh,” I answered. “Yeah.”
