“Oh, well.” I frowned. “Come on, let me show you.” I leaned past him and undid the brand-new combination lock Salt had installed on our door. Thankfully, the code was something other than 312. Salt’s devotion to all things Rose & Grave clearly couldn’t overcome the fact that Master Locks come pre-programmed.

Darren followed me inside and took in the dingy surroundings. “Wow, you guys must have cleaned a lot of this up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, don’t kill me for saying so, but it’s not nearly as bad as what I’d been hearing.” He traced a line of paint on the wall. “You washed off the swear words, at least.”

Swear words. How cute.

“Which one is Odile’s?” he asked.

I smiled. Someone here had a cru-ush. “The one where the blankets aren’t covered in paint,” I said, gesturing to the freshly made-up bunk.

He looked at her luggage, her pillow (I resisted pointing out that she’d never actually slept on it) and the traveling clothes she’d tossed on the bed.

“Were you expecting something special?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Something other than a Samsonite roll-aboard?”

He shrugged. “Am I being a big dork?”

“No,” I said. “Just normal. I bet I’d be a mess if I met some of the politicians who come to your family’s Christmas parties.”

“That’s different.”

Yeah. Condoleezza Rice hadn’t yet appeared in lingerie in Maxim.

Clarissa materialized at the door, and clutched a hand to her chest. “Oh, Amy! It’s you. You surprised me.” She glanced over at Darren. “Hi.”

He waved back. “Thanks for showing me around,” he said to me, and brushed past her and out into the sunlight.

Clarissa came inside. “That poor kid,” she said. “I mean, I’ll never forgive him for ruining my top, but I suppose in the scheme of things…” she waved halfheartedly at her destroyed bag, “it could have been worse.” She took in the sight of me applying lip gloss and still scented heavily with lotion. “Are you done with the beach?”

“I was thinking of—”

“Can I talk to you?”

I looked at her. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I really examined Clarissa. Her hair had split ends. Her manicure was chipped. She’d actually put on a couple of pounds (though I thought it looked fabulous on her). Clearly, Clarissa’s Spring Break had been no more relaxing than mine, and she seemed to need a vacation even more than I did. I recalled her short temper since we’d arrived. “Sure,” I said. I’d deal with Poe when he showed up.

We sat on the porch and Clarissa clasped her hands in her lap. “I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “Felicity…I couldn’t. I mean, we’re friends and all, but it’s like we’re rivals, too. Always trying to one-up each other. With grades, with toys, with men…” She glanced at me. “Until Brandon of course. I think she really does love him.”

“I know she does,” I said flatly. Ixnay on the Andonbray, huh?

“I’m sorry.”

I waved her off. “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it. What’s going on with you?”

She was silent for several long moments. “I don’t know what I’m going to do next year.”

My brow furrowed. “I thought you were going to work for McKinsey?”

“I lied.” She buried her face in her hands. “I couldn’t really tell anyone. But I didn’t get offers from any of the places I applied.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, and threw an arm around her. “It’s only March.” And heck, I didn’t know what I was doing, either. Who was I to comfort her?

“No,” she said. “I’m not going to get a job. It’s like college applications all over again.” I felt her shake underneath my arm. “Except this time, I don’t have my daddy to bail me out.” She expelled a pent-up breath. “God, I’m such a spoiled brat. I’ve been sailing by all these years, convinced that I’d proven myself. But it’s starting all over again. And I don’t even know if I want to be a consultant. But that’s what you do, you know?”

No, I didn’t know. “I’m not going to—”

“Amy, what am I going to do? I need to find a job.” She looked up, her eyes red. “I can’t spend the rest of my life living off my family. Just looking at Malcolm earlier—I envy him so much. He gave his family the finger, went off, did his own thing. And he made it work.”

“He’s working on a fishing boat,” I pointed out. I could hardly envision Clarissa with a chum bucket.

“He’s going to grad school!” she cried.

“You could go to grad school,” I said.

“And do what?” she said. “I can’t let it be an excuse, like everyone else does. A reason to put off the future for a few more years.”

I dropped my hand to my side. Was that what my applications were all about? Putting off the future? After all, it wasn’t like I saw myself in academia on a permanent basis. I wasn’t interested in becoming a professor.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have said a lot of the things I’ve been going on about. It’s just—you were right. I’m jealous. Jenny was such a mess last semester, and now she’s got it all together. Happy, and starting her little company, and in love—no, I don’t care what anyone else says, there is something going on with them. And you know what? I don’t really care. It’s just that I think about the things my dad said about us, about how we’d turn into a singles club or a soap opera, and I wonder…maybe he was right? And if he was right, then why did we bother fighting the patriarchs? If we hadn’t fought, maybe I wouldn’t be…” She trailed off, looked out into the woods.

I followed her gaze and saw Poe standing there, watching us. I waved at him and he waved back, then melted into the trees.

“And everyone keeps slamming Kadie,” she went on. “Like she’s this total worthless witch, and Demetria keeps acting like I’m just like her—”

“That’s not true!” I said. “You’re not like Kadie in any of the bad ways. Demetria’s just a little brash when she gets upset.”

“And I think, is that all I’m cut out for? Like Kadie? Just be a vicious, backstabbing, little society wife, and forget that I’ve got an Eli diploma in my closet? Like maybe that’s my unavoidable fate? Or just easy enough that there’s no point fighting it?”

And much as I hated to admit it, some of that rang true. This is the problem with being both really smart and a little screwed up. You’re able to concoct the most believable self-defeating positions.

“No,” Clarissa said, as if coming to a decision. “I don’t mean that. I just can’t help it—my dad’s voice echoing in my head all the time. I don’t want to be that person. But I’m not sure I’ve figured out an alternative. And I hate all you people who have.”

I sighed. Well, I hadn’t. “We’re not what your dad predicted we’d be, Clarissa.”

“No?” she said. “I am. I’m treating the girls here like I do my friends everywhere else. I’m jealous and competitive and awful.”

“You’re not awful,” I said, recalling how, even a year ago, I thought the exact opposite. “You’re ambitious—even if you don’t know what for—and that comes with a strong sense of competition. It doesn’t make you evil to think bad things about your friends from time to time.” At least, I hoped it didn’t, or someone should fit me for a black hat and a twirly mustache. I was regularly jealous of Lydia, and vice versa. But we loved each other, and we stood by each other when it counted.

“My dad didn’t do that. Not with the Diggers.”

“That’s crap,” I said. “Diggers are the same as everyone else. You don’t think they stab one another in the back? You don’t think they choose other concerns over this society? Kurt Gehry screwed P—Jamie over when he didn’t agree with him. The President tossed Gehry to the wolves last month. No matter what our oaths are, we’re not always going to be friends with someone just because they’re Diggers. And it’s not just this year, not just the addition of women. It’s all of us. Look at your dad and what he did to us.”