Page 88 of The Debutantes
“Because it’s bullshit.” Margot glared at the King’s float, its throne empty and waiting. “Calling some old guy a king andgiving him a queen young enough to be his daughter. Making him think he’s literally royalty just because he’s rich and white and powerful.”
It was nothing we hadn’t said before—Margot knew I thought all of it was bullshit—but there was a twinge of hurt under her words this time, something wounded beneath her confident rage.
“Did something happen?” I asked.
Margot looked away, and I knew then that I’d hesitated too long. For some reason, she needed me to agree to this, and I’d failed her.
“No,” she said distantly. “I don’t know. I’m just in the mood to break shit. But you’re right. It’s stupid.”
“I didn’t say it was stupid,” I argued, even though we both knew I’d thought it.
“Whatever,” Margot said. “It is.”
Her hand tightened around the neck of the bottle, a wall rising up again between us. And I understood, suddenly, what this was. It was like her hidden cigarettes, her sad-clown lighter, all of the rumors about her bad-girl behavior that she ignored or even fueled because it made her feel impenetrable. Tonight, this need for destruction was another mask, a piece of armor to protect whatever was bruised inside. I knew that, and I was desperate to know what was really hurting her—just as much as I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. What she wanted, more than anything, was a partner in crime.
And so I said something I shouldn’t have.
“Well, maybe I’m in the mood to do something stupid.”
She grinned, bright and vicious.
We made a mess together, wreaked way more havoc than two girls would seem capable of. We ripped flowers off offloats, dug under the gold leaf with our nails, hammered papier-mâché faces with abandoned plywood boards, fracturing their skulls. We ripped into bags of parade throws and tossed them around the room, spilling beads, stuffed animals, and light-up toys like brightly colored innards. When we were done, I was almost in awe of it. The damage we could cause together. How good it felt.
And then Margot flicked on her silver lighter, the flame dancing in her dark eyes.
“No,” I said, reason taking over. “No way.”
“Come on,” she said. “They deserve it.”
I was silent, still, and that’s when I noticed it: the desperation in her eyes. A need that came from someplace deeper. Someplace broken.
“April, please.”
“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” I blurted. “What happened tonight?”
“Nothing. I told you.”
“That’s bullshit.” The words rushed up from deep inside me, some raw, injured place. “You ghost me for months, and then ask me to come do arson with you like everything is totally normal? As if you didn’t dump me for Lily fucking LeBlanc.”
As soon as I said it, I knew we both heard it. What I really meant. Margot didn’tdumpme. It’s not like we were a thing. Margot was my friend—myonlyfriend—and I wasn’t about to screw that up by catching feelings for a girl who, as far as I knew, was Kinsey scale–certified straight. But there were also times when I knew, deep down, that a part of me was a little bit in love with her. I didn’t think she’d seen it, that soft, tenderspot, but the way she looked at me then, I knew. She saw me, all the way through.
And I should have said it. I should have admitted it, just to see what would happen, because we were already playing with fire, weren’t we? But I waited a moment too long. Because just before I could gather the breath, Margot asked, “Why do you hate her so much?”
And the moment was gone. Just another thing stolen by Lily LeBlanc.
“Because—” I paused, suddenly unsure. “Because she’s fake. She’s rich and spoiled and everyone loves her for no goddamn reason. And she actually thinks all this debutante shit is important. She’s obviously going to be Queen next year, and she’sproudof it. From the second she popped out of the womb, being a debutante has been the most important thing she’ll ever do, and she doesn’t even see how fucking sad that is.”
Margot stared at me, something simmering beneath her glare. Then she shook her head slightly. “Funny,” she said. “You just described me.”
“What? No. You know it’s all ridiculous. But Lily—”
“You don’t evenknowLily,” Margot said. “You haven’t given her a chance.”
“Because shesucks,” I shouted. “Because she’s been trying to steal you from me, just because she thinks she can have whatever she wants.”
“She’sstealingme? What, like I can’t decide things for myself?”
I sputtered, face hot. “No, that’s not—”
