Honesty may be the best policy in some zip codes, but not in this one and not this week, 'cause "I was a teenage drug addict" is not exactly a winning college essay. The last time New Haven was invaded was in 1779. Heads up, H. There's a cannonball coming your way.
++++++++
Lydia sits on the floor in her room, face red and puffy. It's been 3 days since Thanksgiving and she finally got the strength to delete every picture of Jake and every picture of Ainsley on her phone. Looking at them made her feel even worse.
Jake had gone from texting to calling to stopping by (but being left at the door) to leaving flowers and cards.
Ainsley had gone from texting to calling to stopping by, but unlike Jake, Lydia let her in.
"You have 3 minutes," Lydia had spit, sitting on her couch, wrapped in a pink silk robe.
Ainsley licked her lips and took a step forward. "Lyd, I'm really sorry. I don't even know--" she stopped and sighed. "It was a mistake. I love you; you're my best friend, you've always been my best friend."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "It's not like this is the first time you tried to ruin my life," she said. "I let you back in. I gave you a second chance."
"Lydia, I'm not trying to ruin your life. Last year--I was just trying to help you. You know that," Ainsley explained.
"No," Lydia said. "I had it under control."
Ainsley shook her head. "Well at least I'm leaving again, like you want."
Lydia furrowed her eyebrows and laughed. "You think I want you to leave?" She asked.
Ainsley stood silent and confused.
"No, Ainsley; I don't want you to leave. For one, I can't ruin your life from across the Atlantic," Lydia said and rolled her eyes and then sighed. "It's not fair. When you go to France, you get to start over. I have to stay here and actually deal with all of my problems," Lydia explained heartbroken and angered.
Ainsley looked down at the floor.
"It's been 3 minutes. I look forward to never seeing you again."
Lydia rolls her eyes at the sound of 2, quick knocks on her door. She stands and yanks it open with annoyance, surprised to see Elijah.
"Hey, Lyd," he smiles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He frowns slightly at her obviously depressed state and Lydia silently wishes he had texted first so she could've at least put on some concealer.
"What are you doing here?" Lydia walks away and lays on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Elijah strolls in and lays beside her, staring up at the ceiling also.
It was strange to him to see Lydia so broken when she's always so strong and dominate. Always. Then it occurs to him that no one can always be like that.
"You're one of my best friends," Elijah states simply.
"So is Jake," Lydia points out.
"I know," Elijah groans. "That's why this is so hard. I'm sorry," he says turning his head to look at her, but she doesn't respond.
"I hate this," Lydia says angrily after a while. "I hate Jake. I hate Ainsley, and I hate your cousin."
"She's a good person," Elijah admits, feeling guilty for icing Harper out since Thanksgiving. "She just gets lost sometimes, that's all."
"And you blame me."
"Well--no, I just wish--," Elijah shakes his head and sighs. "You guys have more in common than you'd think," he says. "And she's been through a lot recently, too.
"Whatever," Lydia says.
"Seriously," Elijah says and props himself up on one arm. "Her sister died last year. She started taking drugs, drinking. She couldn't handle it. She had to go to therapy and rehab for a while."
Lydia's eyebrows furrow, thinking over what Elijah just side.
They sit in silence for a while until Elijah breaks it.
"What's that?" He asks, nodding to a letter tapped up on the side of Lydia's vanity mirror.
Lydia props herself up the way Elijah has and follows his gaze.
She smiles proudly. "That is a personal invitation from the dean of Yale to attend a highly coveted, highly exclusive private party for those who hope to be incoming freshman."
"Nice," Elijah nods. "You know, Harper got on of those too, actually," he thinks aloud, immediately regretting his proclamation.
Elijah groans internally when Lydia's head snaps back to him with a face contorted in disgust, anger and shock.
"Lyd," he says slowly.
"No," she cuts him off. "No fucking way."
+++++++++
"I love that uniform," Holden states, eyes trailing up my legs as I lays sprawled out on his living room couch.
I wrinkle my nose and throw a pillow at him and he catches it with a smirk as it hits his chest.
"Ready for school tomorrow?" He asks, lifting both my legs, sitting on the couch, then laying them back down over his lap.
I lick my lips, feeling strange.
"Um, no?" I say in more of a question. "Not really. I don't know. I just hope no one finds out about me working here."
"I can cover for you if they do," Holden shrugs.
"Really?" I ask.
"Yeah. Or, you know, you could find another job that's less embarrassing."
I sigh, feeling bad for even being embarresed. The women I worked with in housekeeping were amazing--no one should be embarrassed about having a stable job that provides for them and their family.
But then again, what about my newfound reputation? Should I leave The Annabelle before this secret slips to more people than it already has?
"I got a letter from Yale," I say, changing the subject. "It's for a private party in New Haven hosted by the dean."
"Shit, that's great," Holden smiles and I nod.
"What about you? How's the deal with your dad going?" I ask and Holden frowns.
"It's not."
"I feel bad for Lydia," I say quietly after a few moments of silence.
"High schools been kind of her highest of highs and lowest of lows," Holden says.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there's the fashion shows and shit like that but then there's, you know, your best friend fucking your boyfriend, the drug thing last year."
"What drug thing?" I ask confused. Drugs and Lydia in the same sentence only made since to me if it was involving Jake's consistent pot use.
Holden sighs and licks his lips. "She started taking adderall last fall to focus with her SAT prep. It turned into a problem and Ainsley snitched to Lyd's mom."
My eyes widen. That's why they were fighting when Ainsley came back? Lydia had a drug problem.
"No one really knows about it though," Holden continues. "You can keep anything a secret when your parents are millionares."
I sit quietly, thinking. I thought Lydia and I were complete opposites. But last year we were both facing at least 1 similar struggle.
++++++++
"Hey, Harper," Lydia smiles, approaching me at my locker. "How's being a slut? Which Frasier were you with this weekend? No, let me guess, both?"
I purse my lips in annoyance even though she's right about me hanging out with both Tyler and Holden over the weekend. Being friends with 2 guys doesn't make you a slut. But maybe bargaining your virginity to one does.
"How's being lonely? Have you found another pothead boyfriend yet? Or some friends, maybe?" I snap back.
Lydia smiles. "Do you have the right to call anyone a pothead?"
I feel my heart drop and I blink a few times. "Excuse me?" I ask.
She laughs dryly and gives me a sly smirk. "I'll see you in New Haven Saturday."
I watch her walk off and I stand, too stunned too move, at my locker. Elijah walking by across the hall catches my eye and I shout his name to get his attention.
He stops and looks at me and I stomp over to him, students stopping and parting for me to pass, wary expressions on their faces at the sight of my feral one.
"Elijah," I breath deeply. "I'm only going to ask you this one time. Did you tell Lydia about what happened last year?" I ask low enough for only him to hear.
He licks his lips and looks away for a second then back to me. "I didn't tell her everything, I just said you had a problem after Cara died."
My eyes widen and fist ball up angrily. "You told her about Cara?"
Elijah shakes his head. "I just told her she died I didn't--"
"What the hell Elijah? Why would you tell her are you trying to ruin my whole purpose for being here?" I rant furiously.
"I just thought maybe she'd chill if she understood you a little better," he tries to explain but I'm not hearing it.
"I can't believe you," I spit. "She's going to use this against me at the Dean's party this weekend. She has a picture! If this happens again, it's your fault."
"Harper--"
"You know what," I say, taking a step forward. "Remember when you joked about me ruining you at Thanksgiving? Well believe me, I have no problem doing so, so watch your back."
I stomp away to head to first period, texting Becca and Alejandra to meet at my house after school.
+++++++
"Listen closely, because this is super important," I stress to the two girls who nod quickly. "You two were apart of Lydia's army since freshman year, which means you know about the thing last year, right?"
Alejandra narrows her eyes. "What thing?" She asks catiously.
"The drug thing," I confirm.
"How do you know about the drug thing?" Becca asks.
"I know everything," I say rolling my eyes and Becca nods in understanding.
"So who else knows?" I ask curiously.
"Um, Becca and I, Lydia's parents, her sister Melanie, Ainsley, duh, because she's the one who told her parents, Holden, Jake, Elijah, and I guess that's it. Not that many people really if you think about how like all of Manhattan knows her," Alejandra says.
"And the headmistress, probably. And the therapist she had to see," Becca chimes in. "I doubt they even kept the files on it; her parents had it, like, super top secret. We only know because Alejandra blackmailed Ainsley to tell us what was going on."
Alejandra shrugs.
"You think the files are gone?" I ask, hearing the sound of my plans shattering in the distance.
"Defs," Becca nods. "Wait, why?"
"Because I need them as soon as possible," I state simply. Would her therapist really get rid of the files? No. That's unprofessional, right?
"Omg, I feel a scheme coming on," Becca chirps excitedly, bouncing in her seat.
"Alejandra what's your major?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I know the answer already.
"Behavioral Sciences. Why?"
++++++++
Becca sits in the drivers seat of her black jaguar and I sit in the passengers seat. The sound of the backseat door opening causes us to turn around.
"This key is to his office and this key goes to the locked file cabinet," Alejandra smirks dangling 2 keys in front of Becca and I and before shutting her door.
"Good job," I smile proudly and turn around.
After five days, our plan--rather, my plan--is in motion.
Day 1, Alejandra went to the guidance counsler to talk about jump starting a career in her major. She showed up 15 minutes early to her appointment, so while Ms. Lang spent her lunch break in the teachers lounge eating tuna, Alejandra was sifting through student files until she found the name and address of Lydia's therapist.
Then, when Ms. Lang came in for their appointment, Alejandra asked if there were any therapists she new of near 5th Street that she could possibly intern with.
Lang and Lydia's therapist, Dr. Lancome, had to stay in touch to discuss Lydia's progress, so naturally Ms. Lang referred Alejandra to the only therapist on 5th Street she was already in touch with.
Day 3, Alejandra started her internship. I had to hear her complain about how Dr. Lancome "isn't even cute" and how she never wants to be a therapist because other people's problems are "so not interesting."
She stole the key to his office and key to his file cabinet then quickly got them copied at the closest Home Depot during her first lunch break. She returned the original keys, then proceeded to text me how everything actually went a lot easier than you'd think.
Today, day 5, is make it or break it, since the party it tomorrow.
"Oh my God, we're like, the Totally Spies," Becca giggles as we park and hop out of the car. She suggested we all wear all black, but I explained to her how suspicious that looked. We can't afford to get caught, considering we're breaking quite a few laws.
It was 6:00. Dr. Lancome had gone home already, and so had most people considering they close here at 6:30.
Confidently we walk past the reception area, but the secretary stops us.
"Um, excuse me--" she calls and we stop.
"We're interns," Alejandra says rudely, holding up and dangling her official intern lanyard. The lady licks her lips and nods quickly, turning back to her computer screen.
"This room," Alejandra points to a room on the left down a long, empty corridor. She unlocks it and we slip inside, closing the door and locking it behind us.
Becca closes the shades to the window on the door as Alejandra hands me the second key and we slip over to the tall black file cabinet in the corner of the room.
"Files are ordered by last name," Alejandra notifies me and I unlock the drawer labeled "J--P".
Sifting through the files I find the I section, which is quite small, so it doesn't take me long to find O'Connell, Lydia.
I grab several papers talking about her drug use and pass them to Alejandra. "Go copy these."
"Why me?" She whines.
"You're the one with the lanyard," I roll my eyes. "Hurry up."
It takes about 3 minutes of building anxiety for Alejandra to return. She holds the copies and hands the originals to me which I put back in the correct order before closing the drawer and locking it.
I stick the key in my back pocket and we check through the blinds to make sure the hallway is clear before slipping out Lancome's office and locking it back.
Alejandra let's out a relived sigh as we leave. "God, I'm so glad I can quit now."
+++++++
"Serena has just been absolutely phenomenal this year," Lydia gushes with a smile to Cora Locklear, the Dean's wife. It was widely known that the Dean's wife loves tennis. Lydia, however, though she used to play occasionaly with Jake and his parents at a clubhouse they owned, didn't care to watch it. "It would've been one of the biggest wimbledon upsets of all time if she had lost. Speaking of wimbledon upsets, I'm still astounded by Federer's loss to Stakhovsky in 2012."
"Actually it was 2013," Harper corrects, stepping fowards. She'd been eavesdropping, rolling her eyes at Lydia's attempts to swoon Ms. Locklear, waiting for the perfect timing to do so herself.
"You're very right Ms...," Cora trails off.
"Harper. Harper Caldwell," Harper smiles as she thrusts out her hand, quickly shaking with her. Cora recognizes the last name and nods slightly in approval, looking over Harper.
Lydia's jaw locks but she keeps a friendly smile plastered on her face.
"It's so nice to meet you, Ms. Locklear," Harper smiles.
"Likewise," Cora nods. "Some people don't really know their wimbledon winners in correct order."
Lydia's eyes narrow slightly and Cora excuses herself before walking off.
Lydia turns to Harper who smiles and shrugs.
Lydia licks her lips and scoffs. "Let's go outside," she suggests and Harper follows her out the front door.
"You really had the nerve to come," Lydia says as the two stand on the porch. It's cold in the dimly lit December evening, but both girls are heated with anger and annoyance at each other.
"Surprised?"
"Totally," Lydia nods. They can hear the chatter of people inside. "Considering that I have the power to ruin your chances of attendance tonight."
Harper laughs. "I could say the same to you."
"Excuse me?"
Harper pulls out the files, neatly folded and tucked away in her new, blue Balenciaga.
"Patient Lydia O'Connell suffers from addiction to prescription drugs," Harper sums up, looking down at the report in front of her. Lydia's face pales. "The dates on these range from September of last year, to now," Harper states flipping through the papers.
"Does Yale know you were high during your SATS?" Harper asks, taking a step forward with furrowed eyebrows.
Lydia stands frozen. "Where'd you get those?" She asks quietly.
"It doesnt matter," Harper spits harshly. "You know, it just doesn't seem fair to me," Harper shakes her head, infuruated.
"What doesn't?" Lydia spits back, grasping for the papers, but Harper yanks them back out of her reach.
"My sister kills herself, I find her body, and after a few drinks or joints or lines, my acceptance, my scholarship is taken from me. Why should you get to use drugs to cheat your way through school and tests and get off scot free, while I get shut out again for breaking some stupid no-more-partying agreement?"
Harper's crying now before she even realizes it, remembering her sisters body lying lifelessly on her bed and feeling angry at the thought of being rejected from Yale again after Lydia shows that picture.
She runs her fingers through her straightened hair and sits on the porch step as Lydia remains still in shock. After a few seconds her heels click across the porch and she sits beside Harper silently, tears also dampening her cheeks.
"I was bulimic," Lydia admits softly after some silence. "Ainsley and Jake took notice, and they told my parents."
Harper turns and looks at Lydia, who's eyes stay on the ground. "They took me to a psychologist, and in about a week he diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder," she continues. "My parents, they were so upset. I thought they hated me after that. They could hardly look at me. I got a B in AP Chem first marking period last year and they asked my doctor if it was the disorder that was "making me like this," she laughs, but Harper frowns heartbrokenly, not finding anything funny. "Honestly, I just wasn't really studying. I started taking adderall, sometimes ritalin, because the only way I could get their approval was through school. Of course Ainsley, Manhattans own Paul Revere, ran to my parents again," she sighs and looks at Harper.
"I'm sorry," Lydia says. Harper's eyebrows raise, not expecting to ever hear those words from Lydia's mouth to anyone, especially not her. "About everything," she adds, unlocking her phone and deleting the picture of Harper.
Harper licks her lips and hands Lydia the files. "I'm sorry, too."
"Is this a truce?" Lydia asks holding the files catiously for a few seconds before sliding them into her purse.
Harper shrugs. "I think it should be."
"Fine, then," Lydia nods. "Truce."
"I'm also sorry about Ainsley and Jake. And if you want your friends back, you can have them," Harper says. She means it, but she's grown fond of the girls, especially Alejandra and Becca, and would rather stay friends with them.
Lydia laughs, wiping her cheeks. "It doesn't work like that. They're like flys; they flock to hot shit. That's you right now."
Harper's face contorts. "Thanks?"
Lydia chuckles and they sit in silence, the sun setting and turning the evening into night before them.
"I'm sorry," Harper says again, breaking the silence. Lydia rolls her eyes and stands up.
"Stop apologizing, Harper," she says, but her tone is still surprisingly soft.
Harper nods quickly and stands up, too.
"Let's keep this a secret, alright?" Lydia says as they reenter the party.
Harper nods. "Agreed."
From comrades to combat, we thought we'd seen it all. But we've never seen this: Harper and Lydia calling a cease fire. With so much scorched earth, can either side claim victory?
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1. I really like this chapter
2. I made a friendship photo collage of Lydia and Ainsley using pics from Taylors instagram of her with any blonde girls isn't it cute
3. Suicide Squad comes out today I've been waiting literally almost an entire year
4. The olympics start today and sorry for my non American readers but we're going to destroy all of you in gymnastics we could get gold silver and bronze in all arounds if we could
5. I combined 2 GG quotes for the one on the beginning and I also ended the story with one. 3 quotes
6. Yo I do so much research for this book lmao I didn't pull that wimbledon shit out of my ass
7. Vote comment follow!