The Dolls(73)
“She’s a great girl,” I tell him.
We’re halfway out to the Périphérie when I finally ask the question that’s been on my mind since Caleb mentioned it. “Before she died, were you dating Glory Jones?”
Drew looks at me in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “And I don’t care if you were. I just want to know.”
“No,” he says after a pause. “But we were friends. Really good friends, actually.”
“So why did you act like you barely knew her at her funeral?”
“Because I promised her I’d keep our friendship a secret. I’m still trying to honor that, Eveny, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t say anything to the Dolls.” There’s bitterness in his voice, but there’s pain there too. “You know about the line between people from central Carrefour and the Périphérie.”
“If she liked you, if you two were friends, she should have been open about it. People would have had to be okay with it.”
“I used to tell her that. But it meant a lot to me to have her in my life at all. I don’t have a lot of good friends, and I didn’t want to hurt her by making Peregrine and Chloe turn their backs on her because of me.”
“You really think they would have done that?” But I know the answer to my own question. They treated people from the Périphérie like sources of power, not human beings.
“Peregrine and Chloe aren’t the people you think they are, Eveny,” Drew says. “They’re not nice, they’re not good people, and I think they were ruining Glory’s life. She died before I had a chance to figure out how to help her.”
“You must miss her.”
“Sure I do,” he says. “All the time. But we were from two different worlds.” He clears his throat and adds, “Kind of like you and me.”
“I’m not from a different world than you,” I say instantly.
“Could have fooled me, with that big mansion of yours.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, but I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for. “I’m not like them, you know. The Dolls, I mean.”
Drew glances at me as he turns onto a side street in the Périphérie, but he doesn’t reply.
The silence between us stretches long and thick until we pull up to the restaurant, which is in a far corner of the Périphérie, close enough to the town wall that you can see the bricks and stones that separate us from the outside world. “Welcome to Cajun Eddie’s,” Drew says as he puts his truck in park and turns off the engine. “You’re going to love this place. Best jambalaya on the planet.”
Liv and Max are already waiting by the hostess stand, and although a flicker of worry crosses Liv’s face when she sees me and Drew arrive together, she relaxes when I hug her and whisper in her ear, “He talked about you the whole way here.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m staring down at the first bowl of jambalaya I’ve ever ordered.
“You’ve got shrimp, chicken, andouille sausage, onions, peppers, celery, and all sorts of amazing Cajun spices,” Liv explains enthusiastically as she eyes the piping hot mixture on my plate.
“Go ahead,” Drew says, smiling at me as he pushes my glass of water toward me. “Try it. But it’s gonna make you thirsty.”
As I take my first bite, my taste buds tingle with the assault of flavors. But I have to admit, it’s smoky and delicious.
The others dig into their own meals: fried oysters for Drew, a blackened fish sandwich for Max, and a Caesar salad for Liv, who nibbles nervously while looking at Drew out of the corner of her eye. Relax, I mouth to her when Drew’s distracted by a debate with Max over the merits of the Beatles versus the Rolling Stones. He likes you.
Thanks, she mouths back, visibly calming.
As we eat, we talk about having lunch with the Dolls in the Hickories, our upcoming tests in French and physics, and the fact that we’re all weirded out by the death of the fraternity guy just outside our gates. “I don’t get what happened to him,” Drew says, glancing at me. “It’s so odd.”
“Beats me,” I say as innocently as possible as I wash down another spicy mouthful of jambalaya.
By the time we’re done, Drew and Liv are gazing at each other with googly eyes, and I’m trying not to feel jealous. It’s not that I’m interested in Drew at all, and of course I’m glad that he likes Liv. I just wish someone would look at me that way. Specifically Caleb. Instead, I evidently inspire cursing and fleeing.