Mixed Bags Page 8

  “Yeah, I get to use it for parties sometimes, but this weekend my parents loaned it out to some friends.”

  “Should I put the top up?” Eliza asked Harry.

  “Nah. Just don’t leave any valuables in your car. It’s pretty safe here, but you never know. I figure you’re better off to just leave the top down. A friend had his convertible broken into, and the cost of replacing the slashed top was a lot more than the CDs that got stolen.”

  They headed down a sandy path bordered by tall beach grass, and soon they were out on a nice stretch of beach. It looked like about twenty or thirty other kids were already there. Not exactly a party, because they were sort of spread out, but as Harry walked past a small group of sunbathers, some of the girls called out to him. He called back, “Hey,” and DJ noticed that a couple of the girls in that group were familiar. Painfully familiar. But she didn’t actually look at them, and she had a feeling they didn’t recognize her. Even if they did, they probably wouldn’t remember her anyway.

  “Who were they?” asked Eliza, once they were out of earshot.

  “Girls from school,” said Harry.

  “I recognized a couple of them,” said DJ. “Madison and Tina.” As soon as she said those two names, she was left with a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Sounds like you don’t like them much,” said Eliza.

  “More like they don’t like me much.”

  “Those two can be mean,” said Harry. “I don’t get that though. Why do girls get so mean?” Before anyone could answer, he pointed to where Conner and Kriti were just setting up some beach chairs next to the big white ice chest that Taylor was sitting on.

  “Nice of you guys to set up camp for us,” said DJ as they joined them.

  “I didn’t realize I was going to be used as a pack mule,” said Taylor, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead.

  “Yeah, right,” said Kriti, who actually was sweating. “I think Conner and I brought up most of the stuff.”

  “I helped carry the cooler,” said Taylor as she unsnapped her western-style shirt to reveal a very small bikini top that looked like it had been constructed from a crocheted doily, the kind DJ’s great-aunt Margaret used to have on all her tables. DJ tried not to stare, but she was curious as to how Taylor managed to keep all those little holes in the right places. She also wondered how well that top would hold up in saltwater. Or maybe Taylor didn’t plan to go swimming.

  “Hey, matching purses,” said Taylor when she spotted DJ’s new bag.

  “Except that yours is Hype,” pointed out Kriti as she nudged the similar bag with the toe of her sandal, “My dad won’t even copy Hype.”

  “It’s just a beach bag,” said Taylor defensively.

  Now Kriti was eying DJ’s bag closely. “And DJ’s bag just happens to be Hermès.”

  “No way,” said Taylor, staring at the bag too.

  “Way,” said Kriti. “And it’s the real thing too.”

  Taylor suddenly looked at DJ more carefully. “Hey, what’s up with you anyway, DJ? Did you have a makeover?”

  “Just cleaned up,” said DJ as she tossed her bag down on one of the blankets and then opened the cooler to remove a soda.

  “You clean up good,” said Conner, winking at her.

  “Want a soda?” she asked him while the cooler was still open.

  “Or maybe Conner wants something a little more exciting,” said Taylor as she opened a large paper grocery bag and pulled out a six-pack of brown bottles. “Something with a little more zing.”

  “Is that beer?” asked Conner.

  “It is,” said Taylor with a sly grin. “India Pale Ale, actually.”

  “Your stop at the store was to buy beer?” he asked with a frown.

  Then she pulled out another six-pack. “Beer and wine coolers. I thought the ladies might prefer something a little—”

  “How did you buy those?” demanded Kriti.

  “With money.”

  “No, I mean how did you buy booze when you’re underage?” persisted Kriti. The others waited for Taylor’s answer.

  “I have ID.”

  “You mean fake ID.” Kriti folded her arms across her chest and scowled. “I cannot believe you did that, Taylor. While Conner and I were waiting, you were in there buying wine and beer and then you put it into the car. We could all get into serious trouble and—”

  “Don’t freak,” said Harry in a soothing voice. “Lots of kids bring beer down to the beach. It’s not that big of a deal, Kriti. I’ve never seen anyone getting busted down here.”

  “And then they drive?” demanded Kriti. “Under the influence?”

  “I’m not driving,” said Taylor as she opened a wine cooler and took a swig and then sat down on a beach chair. “Anyone else?”

  “I’m not driving,” said Harry as he reached for a beer.

  DJ wasn’t sure what to do now. She wasn’t into drinking. But she didn’t want to look like a spoiler either. She glanced at Conner who seemed to be a little unsettled too. Then she looked at Eliza, who seemed perfectly fine.

  “A little bit of wine never hurt anyone,” said Eliza as she reached for a wine cooler. Then she looked at the label more carefully. “Not that this is a very good wine. Good grief, Taylor, I thought you had better taste than this.”

  “Hey, it was a convenience store, not a wine shop.”

  “Well, at least it’s chilled,” said Eliza as she opened it and sniffed. “Oh, my, what a delightful bouquet. I smell a trace of imitation berry extract with undertones of cheap wine. Lovely.”

  “No one’s making you drink it,” said Taylor.

  “This is good,” said Harry. “I compliment your taste in beers, Taylor.”

  “Thank you,” said Taylor happily. “It’s nice to see we have a connoisseur in our midst.”

  “Why don’t you try one too, Conner,” suggested Harry.

  Conner shrugged. “I’m not into beer.”

  “Maybe that’s because you haven’t tasted good beer,” said Harry. He reached for a second one and handed it to Conner. “Just try it, man. You might be surprised.”

  Conner looked even more conflicted now.

  “Come on, Conner,” urged Taylor. “Be a big boy and try it. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it.” She laughed. “Besides, you don’t want to make Harry, Eliza, and I drink all twelve bottles by ourselves. Let’s see…that would be like four bottles apiece. And, don’t forget, Eliza is driving, so we’ll have to cut her off sooner than that.”

  Kriti looked steaming mad now. She started to say something but then just turned and walked away. They all watched as she stomped off down the beach. DJ considered going after her, but didn’t like the idea of leaving this particular foursome alone. Or more specifically, she didn’t like the idea of leaving Taylor with Conner.

  “She’ll cool off,” said Taylor. “She just needs to grow up a little.”

  “She’s been very protected,” said Eliza as she leaned back in the beach chair. “Ahh…this feels good.”

  “Why don’t you guys sit down?” said Harry, pointing to Conner and DJ. “You’re making the rest of us feel uncomfortable.”

  “And why don’t you try a wine cooler, DJ,” said Taylor. “Or are you like Kriti—a teetotaler too?”

  “I already have a soda,” DJ pointed out as she sat down on the blanket and took a sip. She didn’t want to stare at Conner, but she was curious to see if he was going to let them pressure him into drinking a beer. Then he sat down beside her, opened the bottle, and took a cautious sip.

  “So, Conner,” said Taylor, “how is it?”

  Conner wrinkled his nose a little. “Kind of bitter.”

  “It’s beer, man,” said Harry. “It’s not supposed to be sweet. Take another sip. It’s an acquired taste, you know.”

  DJ watched as Conner took another sip and his face grew thoughtful as if he were still trying to figure out whether or not he liked it.

  “Did you know that the drinki
ng age in Connecticut used to be eighteen?” said Harry.

  “Really?” said Taylor with interest. “Why did they raise it?”

  “According to my parents, the state lowered it in the seventies. They figured that if eighteen-year-olds could be drafted for Vietnam, they should be able to drink too. And they changed the law.”

  “So when did they change it back?” asked Eliza.

  “In the eighties. Thanks to Mother’s Against Drunk Driving.”

  “Those crazy MADD women,” said Taylor. “I think Kriti must be a secret member.”

  They all laughed. Then Taylor pointed at Conner who was still holding a beer. “So? What do you think of the beer now?”

  “Tastes like something that an old pair of my dirty sweat socks has been soaking in for a week or two.” Then he put the lid back on, shoved it into the sand, and turned to DJ who was leaning against the cooler. “Wanna get me a Coke outta there, DJ?”

  She grinned at him and reached for a soda. Then he popped it open, holding up the can like he wanted to toast her, and she grinned as they clicked cans together.

  “Here’s to sobriety,” he said loudly.

  “And to designated drivers,” she added.

  “Fine,” said Taylor. “That leaves more for the three of us.” But the tone of her voice suggested that she was not at all pleased. Still, DJ couldn’t help but smile to herself as she sipped her Coke. It felt as if she might’ve just won round three. Or was it round four? And then she wondered how many rounds there would be before it was over. Because Taylor seemed like the kind of girl who usually got what she wanted. And she did not seem like the kind of girl who gave up easily.

  10

  “Hey, THere’s FOOD in the cooler if anyone’s hungry,” said DJ when she noticed that Taylor and Harry were both more than halfway through their second alcoholic beverage now. “You big drinkers might want to put something solid in your tummies to offset that booze.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” sniped Taylor, taking a long swig as if to prove she was totally unconcerned.

  Just the same, DJ went ahead and got some of the food items out, arranging them on the blanket so that everyone could easily help themselves. The guys seemed to appreciate this, although Eliza and Taylor seemed uninterested in eating as they sipped their wine coolers and acted silly. Or maybe they were more obsessed with weight than DJ realized. Whatever. DJ wasn’t going to force them to eat. After all, what difference did it make to her? They were her grandmother’s responsibility, not hers.

  Still, she felt a little worried. And it bugged her to feel like this. She didn’t want to get stuck playing the “mom” role with the Carter House girls. Like how fair was that? Even so, she was also thinking about Kriti. She’d been gone nearly an hour by now, and DJ had no idea where she was or if she was okay. She wondered if someone should go out looking for her.

  DJ was about to mention her concern to the others, but suddenly realized that this would only risk Taylor making another “mom” joke at DJ’s expense. Maybe she could talk Conner into looking for Kriti. Better yet, maybe she and Conner could both go to search for their missing friend. That would also be a good escape from Taylor and her endless jabs. DJ suspected Taylor’s nastiness might grow even worse under the influence of alcohol. DJ remembered hearing that people’s true personalities came out when they were wasted. She hated to imagine how mean someone like Taylor might get, and DJ definitely did not want to be in that girl’s line of fire.

  DJ was mentally preparing a strategy for getting Conner and her away from the others, as she removed a large bowl of pasta salad from the cooler (more of those forbidden carbs that her grandmother had been warning Clara to avoid). But just as she stood, she observed Taylor bent over and fishing around in DJ’s new Hermès bag. What was up with that?

  “Hey, Taylor,” said DJ trying not to sound as irate as she felt for this invasion of privacy, “what’re you doing?”

  “Getting my cigarettes, if you don’t mind,” snapped Taylor. “I know you think you’re my mom, but hopefully you’re not getting on my case for smoking now. There seems to be plenty of air to go around out here.”

  “You’ve got the wrong bag,” said DJ as she retrieved some plates and silverware from the picnic basket, setting them out by the salad.

  “That’s right.” Eliza nodded, pointing to the purse. “That’s DJ’s bag, Taylor. You must have made a Freudian slip. You just wished the Hermès was yours.” Eliza threw back her head and laughed.

  DJ had to laugh too. This joke was totally on Taylor. Then, just as DJ was setting a veggie platter on the blanket, she heard Taylor starting to snicker loudly. DJ glanced over to see what was so amusing, and Taylor still had her hands inside DJ’s Hermès bag.

  “Taylor!” DJ was aggravated now. “Give it up, will you? I guarantee that you will not find any cigarettes in my bag. Okay?”

  But Taylor just smiled—she smiled in a way that DJ, in hindsight, would describe as purely evil. “Oh, but I did find something else, DJ—something even more interesting—especially from a goody-goody girl like you.” Then Taylor removed something small from the Hermès bag and held it up. From where she was standing, DJ couldn’t see what was in Taylor’s hand, but the others were starting to laugh now. Not loudly, but more of an embarrassed kind of laugh—sort of like an uncomfortable titter.

  “Huh?” DJ went closer now, peering at whatever Taylor was holding up and acting so pleased about. The shiny items in her hands looked like tiny foil packets, like maybe they were samples of gum or candy or something. “What are those?” asked DJ.

  “Condoms, of course!” exploded Taylor as she shook the shiny objects in front of DJ’s face. “You really do come prepared for everything, don’t you, DJ?” She looked toward the boys now. “My question is who did you plan to use these with?”

  DJ felt her cheeks grow instantly hot as she stared at those totally foreign objects. “Those are not mine!” she hissed at Taylor.

  “No, no, of course, they’re not.” Taylor was using her low seductive voice now. “I’m sure that’s why they were in the pocket of your Hermès bag, because they are most definitely not yours.”

  “They’re not!” DJ reached over and snatched her bag away from Taylor.

  “Yeah, right.” Taylor was laughing even harder now. “You are full of surprises, DJ. Just when I thought you were such a—”

  “I swear, they’re not mine,” insisted DJ. “You probably planted them there, Taylor. Just to embarrass me. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of those things in your purse.” She reached for Taylor’s bag now, ready to prove her point and clear her name in front of Conner and the others.

  “Go ahead and look all you want,” said Taylor in a totally unconcerned voice. “And while you’re at it, could you toss me my cigarettes? That’s all I was looking for anyway. Sorry to expose your little secrets.”

  DJ knew it would be futile to look in Taylor’s bag. Taylor was not that careless. If this was a setup, she’d probably made sure to have nothing incriminating in her bag. So DJ tossed the bag at Taylor, throwing it so hard that a strap flew up and hit Taylor in the chin.

  “Ouch!” shouted Taylor with narrowed eyes. “You don’t need to get violent.”

  DJ looked helplessly at Eliza now. “Tell Taylor that those things weren’t mine,” she commanded her.

  “Why should I tell her that?” Eliza’s brow creased with a slightly wounded expression.

  “Because they must’ve been yours. You’re the one who gave me that bag in the first place, Eliza. So, obviously, they must be yours, right?” DJ felt more desperate than ever.

  Eliza just shook her head. “I hardly think so, DJ. Good grief, talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. And to think I thought we were friends.”

  “Well, they must be your mom’s then, Eliza. You said she bought this bag in France originally. Maybe she put them in the bag and—”

  “You should watch what you insinuate about other people’s mothers,” warned El
iza. “A person might get offended.”

  DJ knew that her face was flaming red now. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this totally degraded before. If this morning’s tennis match had seemed bad, this was worse. Way, way worse. She so didn’t want Conner to see her like this. And, more than that, she didn’t want to look at him either. She couldn’t imagine looking into his eyes now. All she wanted was to get away—far, far away. So, with the detestable Hermès bag still in her hands, she turned her back to the group, who had now grown quiet and, feeling like she was doing a bad Kriti imitation, she headed down the beach in the same direction that Kriti had stomped off. As she hurried away, she had no doubts that her “friends” would soon be making fun of her behind her back too.

  After a few minutes, DJ was torn between the desire to get even and simply to get away. She even considered calling her dad on her cell phone, begging him to take her back, promising him that she’d do whatever it took. Maybe Jan and the twins weren’t so horrible after all. They might’ve been demanding, but they had never humiliated her before. At least not intentionally. Cleaning house, doing laundry, even changing smelly diapers—what were those chores compared to feeling this miserable?

  She wasn’t sure how long or how far she had walked, but she did realize that she’d reached a part of the beach that seemed fairly uninhabited. On one hand, it was a relief to be away from the others, but on the other hand, it was a little unnerving too. What if she ran into some kind of pervert? She was just about to turn back when she saw someone quite a way down the beach. At first she thought it was a child, but then she realized it was Kriti, slowly walking toward her. For no rational reason, DJ’s heart went out to Kriti just then. She felt terrible for not standing up for Kriti earlier. Maybe it was simply the sort of empathy that is born from a similar experience. But DJ began to walk faster, waving and calling out Kriti’s name.

  “What are you doing?” asked Kriti when they finally met.

  “Running away from home,” said DJ.

  “Huh?”

  “Taylor just managed to totally humiliate me.”