“I do not know you very well,” Consuela said. “But I have seen you with Apple. You are the best girl of all you girls.”
I couldn’t help but smile. She was only Apple’s maid—it wasn’t like she knew me or was giving me a good grade in school or anything, but it felt like it. I really did like getting good grades. “Thank you.”
“You promise you won’t get into trouble tonight.”
“Trouble? Why would we get into trouble?”
“I do not know. But Apple sometimes doesn’t think things all the way. And so many girls tonight outside? I do not get a good feeling. I do not know,” she said again, a crease splitting her forehead. “You promise me.”
The thing about me—the reason Erin can shoot me the wink-and-double-thumbs-up combo—is that I’m your typical good girl. I dress nicely, but I wouldn’t say I’m at the bleeding edge of fashion. I always have my homework done on time. I say please and thank you and adults like me. Because of all these things, everyone always assumes that I’ll do the right thing. No one ever thinks I would lie. But I do lie, sometimes.
Because of all of the aforementioned things—because of the way I’m perceived, because people are too trusting—I’m actually quite good at lying.
“We’re going to be very good girls,” I said.
It was only the first lie I’d tell that night.
Consuela smiled. She gave me the keys and said goodbye to Apple, and I watched as she left through the front doors, struck dumb by the ease of it all.
“We made it!” Apple said, jumping a little in place. “We’re going to meet them here, I can feel it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can feel it too.”
Somehow I knew we were going to meet The Ruperts. I didn’t know yet if I would cry or scream or faint. And I know that sounds like the reaction you’d have while getting mugged or something, but getting mugged and meeting your idols was basically the same thing: a moment of pure hysteria where you lose your mind and all control. The Ruperts could do that to a person. They could do it to me. And I couldn’t wait.
*
Okay, so when I called The Rondack “swanky” earlier I may have been using the term loosely. It was swanky mostly in price, but otherwise it was trying to pull off a motel-for-rich-hipsters vibe. I guess that was what was in at the moment. We got key cards shaped like old brass keys with diamond-shaped key chains, ice machines could be found at the end of every hallway, and if you paid extra you could get crucifixes hung over your bed for the kitsch of it all. We opted out of the crucifixes.
Our room was on the eighth floor of the sixteen-story hotel, so while we weren’t in anything fancy, we weren’t slumming it on one of the lower floors either. Part of that was Apple’s doing. We could barely afford one of the cheapest rooms, but Apple was the one who booked it, so I wasn’t totally surprised when we walked into Room 822 and it turned out to be a junior suite.
The accommodations consisted of a room with a couch facing a large flatscreen mounted on the wall, a desk, and an armchair in the corner. Then there was the bathroom and, finally, the bedroom.
“Why is there only one bed?” Erin said when she saw it.
“Because one bed’s all I need,” Isabel said. She dropped her bag on the floor and launched onto the bed, springing so high I thought for sure she’d dent the ceiling. “I call the bed!”
“You can’t just call the bed,” I said.
“I call the bed too!” Erin said.
“Guess me and Erin are sharin’ the bed,” Isabel said. There was this crazy demented smile on her face, made crazier by the fact that she just kept on jumping. I shot Erin my best side-eye and made sure she caught it, ’cause since when did she share a bed with Isabel? Since when did she share a bed with anyone other than me?
I waited for Erin to say something about the sleeping arrangements. If I put up a protest I’d be labeled a needy loser who was attached at the hip to Erin, only said with a more growly voice and Isabel’s signature sneer. It had to be Erin who spoke up, who chose me. But she didn’t. She just scrolled through her phone, ignoring me. I wasn’t used to it.
Apple sidled up next to me. “We can share the couch in the other room,” she said.
“Bless,” I muttered under my breath. There was no way both of us were going to be able to fit on that couch. It wasn’t even a pullout. But I just smiled as she went into the other room.
“So what’s the plan of attack?” Isabel said. She straightened herself out on the bed and pulled her messy blue-black hair back behind her ears.
“You tell us where the boys are, obvs,” Erin said.
Isabel clicked her phone screen on, her thumbs working overtime. “The boys haven’t been spotted leaving the hotel yet. Must mean they’re still here.”
“We have to find out what floor they’re on,” I said.
“We will,” Erin said. “First, though, I’m parched. Apple?” she called into the other room. “Could you get us some ice?”
“ ’Kay!”