Page 31 of Old Money

T he night was moonless and deep dark. I could barely see the slate steps in front of me as Caitlin and I trekked down the rear path, away from the clubhouse.

I remember the roar of the party behind us, growing fainter as we descended the hill.

I remember wishing I was there, even if I was in trouble.

“Done!” Caitlin called to me.

She stood at the bottom of the steps, her white dress like a beacon in the darkness. She raised her arms, triumphant, one kitten heel in each hand.

That was the dare I’d given her: to walk down the rear path barefoot. Not exactly daring, but I was losing steam. It seemed like hours had passed since the Macarena.

“Might be easier if you took your shoes off too,” said Caitlin. “The grass feels amazing actually.”

I shook my head.

Caitlin extended a chivalrous hand as I neared the bottom.

“Mademoiselle?”

I wobbled on the last step and she grasped my wrist. The alcohol sloshed in my stomach.

“Okay there, babydoll?”

“I’m fine.”

“You want to go back up?”

“No.”

She had that look of gentle concern on her face again—that babysitter look. I could feel myself about to snap again, but then, over her shoulder, I caught a glimpse of bright blue light. I smiled.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

***

No one used the pool at night, but they kept the underwater lights on anyway.

Caitlin said it was “très gauche,” and that the club should know better.

People only lit up their pools at night to show everyone else they could afford to.

She was probably right, but all I could think was how pretty it looked.

The pool was painted a vivid white and emitted a luminous aura, lighting up the mist that drifted off the surface and softening the edges of the night.

“But what did he say exactly?” I asked.

Caitlin chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“He didn’t like, ‘ask me out,’ ” she said. “Guys don’t really do that, you know.”

I nodded. Of course I knew, obviously .

Caitlin sat at the pool’s edge, leaning back on her hands at the top of the steps, her feet in the water, resting on the top stair.

“Maybe boys your age do that,” she said. “Have you had a boyfriend, Alice?”

“What? No?”

I was leaning against the fence, hoping Caitlin wouldn’t ask me to sit with her. Even if I managed to get on the ground without breaking the dress’s zipper, I’d have to ask for help to get back up (the mere thought made me flinch with embarrassment).

“No!” I said again, and Caitlin chuckled.

“No? Not even that kid in the cloakroom? I bet he’s asked you out!”

“Oh my God.”

I covered my face with both hands as Caitlin howled.

“You can tell me! I promise , I won’t tell your mom.”

“I swear to God, I have never had a boyfriend.”

“Okay, okay, if you say so, babydoll.” Her laughter eased and she gazed into the water. “Anyway. It’s different when you’re older.”

How? I wanted to ask. Specifically how?

Caitlin went quiet, watching the water, as if she too was looking for the answer. Reflected light played across her face in little splashes. Finally, she spoke.

“You just start hanging out, and then—yeah...” Caitlin trailed off, her expression unreadable. “At some point, he’s your boyfriend.”

Now I rolled my eyes. Something about the embarrassment made me feel drunk again, and bold.

“But how do you know then?” I asked.

This was the part I didn’t get. How did you know when the “hanging out” part was over, and you and the boy became something official? Nameable?

“Like what happens, exactly?” I pressed.

A smile crept onto Caitlin’s face.

“Uhhhhh, I—” She cut herself off with a laugh. “Hey!”

She whipped her head toward me, mock outrage in her voice.

“Hang on, are we doing truths now?”

I shrugged, but my face went hot.

“Busted!” She pointed at me. “We’re doing dares, and it’s your turn. I dare you to come put your feet in with me.”

I started to protest. No, the game was over. We were just talking.

Caitlin shook her head, eyes shut.

“Nope, that’s the dare.” She grinned. “Seriously, the water feels so good.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Too bad, babe, it’s a dare!”

“Fine,” I muttered, shrugging again. “You win, I don’t care.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Caitlin paused, biting her lip, then leaned toward me, dropping into a whisper. “I’ll tell you ‘what happens, exactly.’ ”

She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up!” I shouted. “I don’t want to!”

Everything seemed to freeze, Caitlin included. For an instant, she looked just like my mother. The look on her face was the same one Mom got the time I told her to shut up. It was a look of astonishment more than offense: I didn’t know you could do that .

“Well,” Caitlin said. “Alrighty then.”

Now the game was really over. I covered my mouth, instantly sorry.

Caitlin took hold of her dress with one hand, grasping the railing with the other. As she stood, her feet skidded slightly on the underwater step. She made a little whooping sound, gripping the railing.

“Wait,” I said, rushing over, desperate to make up for my gaffe. “It’s slippery, I’ll help you.”

“No worries, I’m—”

Caitlin lifted one foot out of the pool, and the other one slipped again, sliding sideways on the step.

It happened in an instant: her eyes and mouth opened wide, a look of panic seized her face and she dropped her skirt, reflexively reaching for my shoulder to steady herself.

I registered her hand a second too late, lurched sideways under the force of her grasp, and then my feet stumbled one over the other and I was falling toward the pool.

Just before I hit the water, I heard Caitlin gasp.