Beautiful Americans

Author:Lucy Silag
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2010-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

14. PJ

Everybody Needs Somebody

“We trust you, Penelope,” Mme Marquet says as she hands me the house keys Friday morning before I leave for the Lycée. It’s almost as if she knows I’m about to have a party this weekend. After these past few weeks of not being able to figure out a way to get out of it with Zack and Alex—not to mention all the people they’ve invited. A small get-together, I correct myself, hoping the distinction will matter to her if I ever get caught—though I will never, ever get caught. Fate could never be that cruel to me.

All day on Friday, I obsess about all the ways the Marquets could find out about the party. During PE, I’m so wound up, I run around the track again and again, trying to clear my head and calm myself down.

Olivia calls me before she goes to bed Friday night, checking on me like she often does. “You’ll never guess what I did this afternoon.”

“What?”

“I went to dance class!” she whispers. “Mme Rouille was pissed.”

“Olivia!” I scold her. “You shouldn’t be dancing on your ankle.”

“I know,” she says, sounding guilty. “It’s actually killing me right now. My mom would freak if she found out. She doesn’t even know I hurt myself. I made Vince promise not to tell her.”

I laugh. “I can’t believe I’m having a party tomorrow night. Can I cancel it?”

“No!” Olivia protests. “You cannot. It’s impossible. Everyone would just show up regardless.”

I hardly sleep. I’m stuck. This party is going to happen, no matter what I do.

“It’s after ten, Penelope,” Mme Cuchon scolds me in front of the glass pyramid entrance to the Louvre the next morning. “You were told to be here at 9:30.”

“Yeah, so sorry,” I tell her, out of breath from running all the way from Les Halles metro station. I look over at Olivia, perfectly punctual as always.

“RER,” I mouth to her. In an attempt to cut my trip to a reasonable amount of travel time this morning, I’d paid extra for the RER regional train from Etoile station, right near the Arc de Triomphe. What I hadn’t realized is some of those trains come only once or twice an hour on weekends. I’d waited in the drafty train shaft, kicking myself for nearly forty minutes. I’m a stressed-out, sleep-deprived wreck.

“Alors,” Mme Cuchon continues. “Now that Penelope has joined us, let’s begin our tour of the famous Musée du Louvre.”

Mme Cuchon’s second in command at the Lycée is Mlle Vailland, who does double-duty as our extremely enthusiastic teacher of French and European history. Mlle Vailland raises a red flag bearing the Lycée’s logo into the air above her head.

“Follow me!” she cries.

We trudge along behind her. Jay catches up with me.

“Hey, partner. Before you got here,” he tells me, “Mlle Vailland said that she’d take us to see the famous stuff before we work on our projects.”

“Oh,” I say. “Cool.”

“You excited about the party tonight?” he asks.

I undo the elastic holding back my ponytail and shake out my hair.

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