The Lifeboat Clique Read Free Page B

who are never actually invited to parties, and it brings on a kind of secondary reaction, spontaneous pain in the heart and a spasm of gut that was made of jealousy and longing and what the cliff divers of Acapulcowould call tristeza when they missed and hit the rocks.
    And why did I want to be invited to a party full of people I thought were assholes celebrating a seemingly C-list seismic event in LA? I don’t know. It was some kind of hardwiring in the brain somewhere. That human desire to belong. But what could I do besides raise my hand and, when the teacher picked me, call out to Abigail instead: “Hey, need any outcasts at this wonderful affair? You could set your drinks on my head.”
    But of course I did not. I didn’t want to give Abigail the pleasure of knowing I wanted to be included. I couldn’t help wondering if she gave these parties just to punish me. As if I hadn’t been punished enough.
    After the bell rang, I happened to enter the bottleneck at the doorway with none other than Croix again.
    He smiled at me and said, “Doing okay?”
    My face flushed. “Oh, you mean that little earthquake? Barely felt it.”
    â€œAh, no worries. You’re probably smarter than the rest of us.”
    â€œAt least it broke up the monotony of class. And I’ll treasure the memory of Mrs. Paltos trying to get me to say earthquake in Spanish. She’s so determined to weave conversational Spanish into the fabric of our lives.”
    Out of the corner of my eye I could see other kidsglancing at us. Wondering what was up with this rarely sighted loser/golden boy coupling.
    â€œSome of these phrases, though,” he said. “Are we ever really going to use them? I mean, Mi amiga esta en la playa. When would I ever say that?”
    Talking to Croix was surprisingly easy. We were doing this. We were having a conversation, and it wasn’t awkward, and I hadn’t vomited or screamed, “I AM TALKING TO CROIX MONROE, AND IF A BLACK MAMBA SHOULD FALL OUT OF THE CEILING AND BITE ME ON THE NECK, I WOULD REFUSE ALL ANTIVENOM SO I COULD DIE HAPPY!”
    â€œMy theory is that we should learn everything possible on the chance that at any given moment, something’s going to matter,” I said. “We just don’t know what that is. And yes, one day you might have to inform a nonnative speaker that your friend is on the beach. Or if that nonnative speaker is a member of the Mexican paparazzi, you could say, ‘ La Kardashian esta en la playa. ’”
    He laughed. “You’re Denver, right?” he asked.
    He knew my name. GOD SPEED, BLACK MAMBA FANGS ON THE WAY TO MY JUGULAR.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI’m Croix.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œSo, are you coming to the party tonight, Denver?”
    And that’s what made him special. That complete and awesome, genuine or beautifully acted belief that an inconsequential girl like myself would be invited to one of Abigail’s illegal parties.
    â€œSure,” I heard myself answering. So casually, as if it were true.
    â€œGreat. So am I. Got to celebrate the earthquake, right?”
    â€œExactly.”
    Something of a more plate-buckling nature was happening inside me. For I was deciding that I, charter member of the invisible club, was going to go to that party to which I was not invited. And at that party, I was going to talk to and continue my impossible flirtation with Croix Monroe.
    I walked around the rest of that day with an earthquake named Croix roiling inside me, wondering what I would wear and how I’d get out of the house and what lie I would have to tell my mother? I had gotten in big trouble my sophomore year, and she still didn’t quite trust me, even though—again—not my fault. I didn’t know if the cool kids had to lie to their parents or if their parents let them do stupid and illegal things because their parents were awesome or uncaring or high. Anyway,