Beastly (3 page)

Finally, he got off. I heard him rifling through the Sub-Zero (which was what he always called the refrigerator), looking for the dinner stuff the maid left. Then I heard the microwave open and shut. I knew he’d come out then, because he now had exactly three minutes to kill by talking to me.

Sure enough. “How was school today?”

It was fun. Trey and I ran all the wires we’ll need to detonate the bombs tomorrow. We just have to figure out how to get hold of some submachine guns without you finding out. Shouldn’t be hard considering you’re never around. I stole your credit card yesterday. Didn’t think you’d mind. Or notice.

“Great. They put up the finalists for spring dance court, and I’m one of them. People say I’ll probably win.”

“That’s great, Kyle.” He looked down at his cell phone.

I wondered, if I’d said the other thing, would he still have said, “That’s great, Kyle.” I tried the one thing that usually got a response from him. “Heard from Mom lately?” Mom left when I was eleven because “there has to be something else out there.” She ended up marrying a plastic surgeon and moving to Miami, so she could soak up the rays all she wants and never worry about getting old. Or calling me.

“What? Oh, she’s probably drying out somewhere.” He looked toward the kitchen, like he was urging the microwave to hurry up. “They canned Jessica Silver today.” Jessica was his co-anchor, so the conversation was squarely back to his favorite subject: himself.

“Why?” I said.

“The official word is that it was a slipup in reporting the Kramer incident.” I had no clue what the Kramer incident was.

Dad was still going. “ … but between you and me, if she’d lost the last twenty pounds after she had the baby – or, better yet, not had the baby in the first place – she’d still have a job.” Which made me think of what Kendra said. But so what? People wanted to look at someone hot instead of someone fugly. It was human nature. Was that wrong?

“She’s totally stupid,” I agreed. Dad was looking toward the kitchen again, so I said, “Yankees are kicking butt.”

That was when the microwave beeped.

“What?” Dad said. He focused on the TV for maybe a tenth of a second. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of work to do, Kyle.”

Then he took his plate into the bedroom and closed the door.

4

Okay, maybe Sloane didn’t tell Kendra she was my date for the dance. But she definitely told everyone else. When I got to school, two girls who apparently dreamed I was going to ask them blew me off, and Trey was at my side as soon as I walked in the door.

“Sloane Hagen.” He held up his hand to high-five. “Nice job.”

“Nice enough.”

“Nice enough,” he imitates. “She’s, like, the hottest girl in school.”

“Why would I settle for less than the best?”

I figured for sure Kendra knew too, so I was surprised when she came up to me in the hall between classes. “Hey.” She linked her arm through mine.

“Hey.” I tried not to pull my arm away or see who might be looking at me with this defective attached to me. “Tried to call you last night.”

For the first time, she looked flustered. “I’m not in the directory. I’m… um, new this year. Transfer student.”

“Figured it was something like that.” She was still hanging on me. Some friends of mine walked by, and it was just automatic that I tried to squirm from her grip.

“Ouch!” One of her nails scraped me.

“Sorry.”

“So, we still on for the dance?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?” She gazed at me.

I was just about to lay it on her, the part about how we needed to meet at the dance because my dad couldn’t drive on account of the six o’clock news, when she said, “I think we should just meet there.”

“Really? Most girls want, like, a royal escort.”

“Nah. It’s weird, but my mom might not be totally thrilled about me going to a dance with a boy.” As opposed to what? A werewolf?

This was too good to be true. “Okay. I’ll buy your ticket and see you there.”

“See you there.” She started to walk away.

I did too, then remembered what Sloane had said, about the corsage. I figured I should ask her, to make it seem real. “Kendra, what color dress are you wearing? My dad says I’m supposed to get a corsage.”

“Oh, I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet. Something black – it’s my signature color. But a single white rose goes with everything, doesn’t it, and it symbolizes purity.” She was so incredibly ugly that I imagined for a second what it would be like if I actually was planning on taking her to the dance, leaning toward her, looking at her mossy teeth and hooked nose, and those weird green eyes, and pinning on the corsage while all my friends stood and laughed at me. For a second I wondered if she really was a witch. Impossible. There was no such thing as witches.

“You got it,” I said. “So I’ll see you at the dance?”

“It will be a night to remember.”

5

The day of the dance, I got into the tuxedo Magda, the new maid, rented for me with Dad’s credit card. One great thing about having a dad who’s never around is they buy you stuff because it’s easier than arguing. Trey’s parents, for example, were total cheapskates – like they told him he had to choose between an Xbox and a Wii. Worried about “spoiling” him or something. My dad bought me both. Then I talked to Trey on my cell phone (from Dad) while waiting for the limo (sponsored by… Dad) to arrive. I checked the Sub-Zero for the corsage Magda was supposed to pick up from the florist. Sloane had told me about fifteen or sixteen more times that her dress was “black, very hot” and that I wouldn’t be sorry if I got her an orchid corsage. So, of course, that’s what I told Magda to buy.

“You ever think that school dances are a form of legalized prostitution?” I said to Trey on the phone.

He laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I – by which I really mean my dad – drop five hundred or so on a tuxedo, a limo, tickets, and a corsage, and in return I get some. What does that sound like to you?” Trey laughed. “Classic.”

I looked in the refrigerator for the corsage. “Where the –”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I gotta go.”

I plumbed the depths of the Sub-Zero, but there was no orchid corsage. The only flower in there was a single white rose.

“Magda!” I yelled. “Where the hell’s the orchid corsage you were supposed to get? What’s up with the rose?” I was pretty sure roses were way cheaper than orchids. “Magda!” No answer.

I finally found her in the laundry room, slopping detergent on the collar of one of Dad’s shirts.

Pretty cushy job if you asked me. Dad worked 24/7 and didn’t mess the place up. I was mostly at school or, if not, I stayed as far away from home as possible. So basically, she got a salary and free use of our apartment, and all she had to do was laundry and vacuuming and watch soap operas and fan her butt all day.

That and run a few simple errands, which she obviously couldn’t even do right.

“What’s this?” I said, shoving the plastic corsage box under her nose. Actually, that wasn’t exactly what I said. I added a few swear words that she probably didn’t even understand.

She stepped back from my hand. All the necklaces around her neck made a jingling sound.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful? It’s a rose. I said an orchid. Or-chid. Are you so stupid you don’t know what an orchid is?”

She didn’t even react to stupid, which just showed how stupid she was. She’d only been there a few weeks, but she was even dumber than the last housekeeper, who got canned for putting her cheap red Wal-Mart T-shirt in with our laundry. Magda didn’t stop folding laundry, but stared at the rose, like she was high on something.

“I know what an orchid is, Mr. Kyle. A proud, vain flower. But can you not see the beauty of this rose?”

I looked at it. It was pure white and almost seemed to be growing before my eyes. I glanced away.

When I looked back, all I could see was Sloane’s face when I showed up with the wrong kind of corsage.

I’d get no love from her tonight, and it was all because of Magda. Stupid rose, stupid Magda.

“Roses are cheap,” I said.

“A beautiful thing is precious, no matter the price. Those who do not know how to see the precious things in life will never be happy. I wish you to be happy, Mr. Kyle.” Yeah, and the best things in life are free, right? But what would you expect from someone who makes a living washing other people’s Jockey shorts?

“I think it’s ugly,” I said.

She put down the laundry she was holding and, quick as can be, snatched the rose away. “Give it to me, then.”

“Are you on crack?” I knocked the box from her hand. It bounced to the floor. “That’s probably how you planned it, huh? Get the wrong thing so I don’t want it, and I’ll give it to you. I don’t think so.” She looked at the rose lying on the floor. “I pity you, Mr. Kyle.”

“You pity me?” I laughed. “How can you pity me? You’re the maid.” She didn’t answer, just reached for another of Dad’s shirts, like she got off doing laundry.

I laughed again. “You should be scared of me. You should be pissing in your pants. If I tell my dad you wasted his money like that, he’ll fire you. He’ll probably have you deported. You should be so frightened of me.”

She kept folding laundry. She probably didn’t even understand English enough to get what I was saying. I gave up. I didn’t want to take the rose corsage because that would be admitting I was going to give it to Sloane. But what choice did I have? I picked it up from where it had bounced in the corner. The plastic box was broken, and the corsage was on the floor, a petal knocked off. Cheap junk. I stuck the loose petal into my pants pocket and put the rest of the corsage back in the box best I could. I started to walk away.

That’s when Magda said – in perfect English, by the way – “I am not frightened of you, Kyle. I am frightened for you.”

“Whatever.”

6

I had planned on picking Sloane up in the limo, giving her the corsage, and then reaping the benefits of all that advance planning by at least making out with her in the limo. After all, my dad had spent big, and it was supposed to be the most important night of my life. Being a prince had to be good for something.

That’s not how it went down.

First off, Sloane practically burst a vein when she saw the corsage. Or she would’ve, if there was any room for any bursting in that tight dress she had on.

“What are you, blind?” she demanded, her already toned arm muscles sticking out more from clenching her fists. “I said my dress was black. This totally clashes.”

“It’s white.”

“It’s off-white. Duh.”

I didn’t see how off-white could clash. But hotness had its privileges.

“Look,” I said. “The stupid maid screwed up. It’s not my fault.”

“The maid? You didn’t even care enough to go buy it yourself?”

“Who buys things themselves? I’ll get you flowers another time.” I held out the corsage box. “It’s pretty.”

“Pretty cheap.” She knocked it from my hand. “It’s not what I asked for.” I stared at the corsage box on the floor. I wanted to just leave. But at that moment, Sloane’s mom showed up with all the latest technology necessary to take both still and action photos of Sloane on my left side, Sloane on my right side, Sloane slightly in front of me. The camera was recording and Ms.

Hagen, who was single and who probably wouldn’t have minded an intro to my dad, was cooing, “Here’s the future prince and princess.” So I did what the son of Rob Kingsbury would do. I kicked the cheapo corsage aside and smiled nice for the camera, saying all the right things about how beautiful Sloane looked, how great the dance would be, blah, blah, blah.

And then, for some reason, I picked the corsage off the floor. Another petal had fallen, and I put it in my pocket with the first one. I took the box with me.

The dance was at the Plaza. When we got there, I handed my tickets to the girl who was checking them. She looked at the corsage.

“Pretty flower,” she said.

I looked at her to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. She was probably in my classes, a sort of mousy-looking girl with a red braid and freckles. She didn’t look like she belonged at the Plaza. She must have been a scholarship student because they made them do all the grunt work like taking tickets.

Obviously, no one had asked her to the dance, or ever bought her flowers, not even a cheap, broken rose. I glanced at Sloane, who was having a joyous reunion with fifty close friends she hadn’t seen since yesterday, since all the girls blew off school the day of the dance to get pedicures and spa treatments.

Sloane had spent most of the ride griping about the corsage – not exactly what I’d planned – and she’d still refused to wear it.

“Hey, you want it?” I said to the girl.

“That’s not nice,” she said.

“What?” I tried to remember if I’d ever picked on her. Nah. She wasn’t ugly enough to tease, just a total zero, not worth my time.

“Goofing on me, pretending you’re going to give it to me, then taking it back.”

“I wasn’t pretending. You can have it.” It was so weird that she even cared about a stupid rose. “It’s not the right color for my girlfriend’s dress or something, so she won’t wear it. It’s just going to die, so you might as well take it.” I held it out to her.

“Well, since you put it that way…” She smiled, taking it from me. I tried not to notice her crooked teeth. Why didn’t she just get braces? “Thanks. It’s beautiful.”

“Hey, enjoy it.”

I walked away sort of smiling. Why had I done that? I for sure wasn’t in the habit of doing favors for uglies. I wondered if all poor people got that excited over stupid little things like that. I couldn’t remember the last time I was excited about anything. Anyway, it was fun, knowing Sloane would eventually stop whining and want the rose, and I’d be able to say I didn’t have it.

I looked around for Kendra. I’d almost forgotten about Kendra, but my timing was, as usual, perfect because there she was, slinking into the front entrance. She wore a black and purple dress that looked like a costume for Harry Potter Goes to the Prom and she was looking for me.