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“I was thinking that maybe I could come over and draw a portrait of each girl.”
“They’d laugh at me,” Nell said. “They’d say I was afraid to be alone with them.”
Mean girls personified, Jecca thought but didn’t say. “How much of this does Tris know?”
Nell looked alarmed. “Nothing! If you tell him he’d . . . he’d . . .”
“Right. Go in with guns blazing and you’d be thirty-six years old before you got over the embarrassment. Too bad they can’t all have heart attacks and Tris could come in and save them.”
Nell giggled. “Or Rebecca’s dad could get sick.”
“Even better,” Jecca said. “Tris would save him, then on the way to the hospital the ambulance would break down, and your dad would fix it and save him a second time.”
Nell stood up, her face showing her excitement. “Then Rebecca’s mom would be so grateful she’d take my mom shopping with her at the Dorfy store in New York.”
“Dorfy store?”
“That’s where Rebecca’s mom takes her twice a year. And the bag store.”
Jecca stopped smiling as she tried to translate what Nell was saying. Then it hit her. “Are you saying that Rebecca’s mother shops for her in New York at Bergdorf’s and Saks?”
“That’s it!” Nell said, laughing. “Dorfy and Bags.”
“Hey!” Tris called. “Are you two having a party? Without me?!”
“Yes!” Nell yelled back. “A wonderful party.”
Jecca watched Teccment. ris and Nell run to each other. If anyone saw them they’d think they hadn’t seen each other in a year. He swung her around and her laughter echoed through the woods. Then Nell snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, and they walked back to Jecca.
As soon as Tris saw Jecca’s face he lifted his brows to ask what was wrong. She mouthed “later,” and he nodded.
As Jecca watched Tristan admiring their paintings, she thought that there must be a way to solve Nell’s problem of the dreaded birthday party. Maybe Jecca felt so strongly about it because it was familiar to her. When she was eight she’d shown up at a birthday party wearing a dress her father had chosen for her: below her knees, ruffles everywhere, a sash tied in a big bow at the back. Jecca knew she’d go to her grave hearing the laughter of the other girls.
Of course Nell wouldn’t go dressed as an escapee from a religious sect, but she’d be competing with “Dorfy and Bags.” From a female point of view it was the same difference.
“What would you like to look like?” Jecca asked.
Tris asked, “What are you talking about?” but Nell understood instantly.
“French,” she said.
“I see,” Jecca said, smiling. “A French exchange student, visiting the U.S., looking at the peasant Americans.”
“Oh yes!” Nell breathed.
“What are you two up to?” Tris asked.
“Secrets!” Jecca said. “Girl secrets. Anybody hungry?”
“Me,” Tristan said, and Jecca and Nell laughed together.
Sixteen
Roan returned that evening with a carload of supplies—mostly unneeded—and the bad mood he’d been in seemed to have left him. He escorted Jecca out of the kitchen and began encasing the fish Tris had caught in a thick layer of salt.
“He’s a good cook when he wants to be,” Tris said.
Their evening meal was pleasant, with Roan making them laugh at things he’d seen in Edilean that day.
