“This is some crazy party, huh?” I said.
“Crazy in a good way or crazy in a bad way?” she asked anxiously.
“Oh, in a good way. Everything is so beautiful and red and shiny,” I slurred. “I got invited today. I live next door. I mean, I don’t live next door, I just stay there for the summer with my mother, who is a crazy person.” The girl laughed her lovely laugh again. “I’m serious. She is nuuuuuuts. But anyway, this girl, Jacinta—I never heard of her, but I guess she’s famous? Like she writes this famous blog?”
The girl looked at me and smiled kindly. “That’s me, love. I’m Jacinta.” I squinted at her and realized this was indeed the beautiful alien girl from the other night, clad in a wig and a boatload of makeup. Those big green eyes—how had I missed them, just because they were encircled by loads of smoky liner and shadow? They seemed unmistakable now, as did her ultra-thin form.
I blushed. “Oh my God,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jacinta looked worried for a moment. “Why would you be sorry?” She put her arm around me and smiled, her big eyes sparkling with friendliness. “I’m actually wearing a wig,” she said, tugging at a red curl. “I love dressing up and playing pretend. Don’t you?”
“I haven’t done it in years. I used to go through my mother’s closet and pretend to be a princess, but then one time I was wearing this super-dark lipstick and I stained one of her favorite dresses, so I got banned from dress-up for life. I’m Naomi, by the way. Naomi Rye. Thank you for inviting me; it was really nice of you. Like, really nice. I don’t usually get invited places. I mean, here. I just—why did you invite me, by the way? Is that rude to ask? I don’t mean to be rude.” I had a full-on case of the Nervous Naomi Babbles.
Jacinta smiled warmly. “I invited you because we’re neighbors, and because I’m interested in you and what you do,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t do anything, really,” I said, wondering for a horrible moment if she just wanted to get to my mother. Once in a while somebody will suck up to me because of who my mom is, but usually it’s some fawning housewife type, not a skinny teenage alien fashion priestess.
“Sure you do,” Jacinta said brightly. “You were in a bunch of photos on Facebook last summer from different charity events. There was the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute Subcommittee Tea, and the after-party honoring Robert Caro for the East Hampton Library Authors Night, and the Friends of the Central Park Turtle Pond tapas fiesta.” The casual way she rattled off the different names startled me.
“Man,” I said. “I barely remember the reasons for those parties. You must have a great memory.”
“Well, they were all at Senator and Mrs. Fairweather’s house,” she replied, as if that explained everything.
“Oh. Right.”
“It seems as if your family and the Fairweathers are quite close,” she said with a studied casualness.
“I guess my mom is friends with Mrs. Fairweather,” I said.
“And you must be friends with Delilah Fairweather, then?” she said with a hint of eagerness that slightly confused me.
“Um,” I said. “I guess. I mean, she’s a really nice girl. I usually see her a handful of times each summer. She asked me to play tennis today, but I couldn’t. Maybe I’ll play another time soon.” At this, Jacinta smiled and looked pleased.
“Usually my mother just makes me go to things with her, and it’s so awkward because I know I don’t fit in,” I continued. “But this party, your party, is such a fun party.”
“Well, that’s the whole point, love,” Jacinta said. “Fun. I want everyone to have the most fun they’ve ever had in their entire lives. I want it to just be the most perfect party, the most perfect summer. For everyone.”
“I’ve never had that much fun here,” I confessed. “My mother can be—difficult.”
“Well, we’re going to change that,” Jacinta assured me. “Not your mother—we can’t do anything about her. But you’re going to have a wonderful summer. I’m going to throw the best parties, and you’re coming to each and every one. You have guest-of-honor status. I was thinking of doing a pirate-themed one, with lots of rum drinks and live parrots and a ship-shaped sandcastle in the backyard—my party planner says she knows an artist who will do one for me.”
I didn’t know how on earth I’d achieved guest-of-honor status simply by peeing in this girl’s blue bathroom, but she was so genuinely friendly that I figured I’d just go with it. It was possible that, behind her gorgeous otherworldly façade, she was actually a completely normal human. Like back home in Chicago, it’s not considered wild or out of the ordinary for a person to be nice. People say hello and when they ask how you’re doing, it seems like a lot of them actually care about your answer. It’s hard to find someone like that in East Hampton—someone who is nice to you just for the sake of being nice, not because they want something from you.
“The jazz bands are so different from anything I’ve seen at a party before,” I said.
Jacinta looked worried again. “You don’t think they’re too much, do you?” she asked. “I could’ve hired a DJ, or I could’ve just put my iPod on shuffle, but I wanted to do something that people would really remember. Something really different from all the other parties. But maybe I went overboard with the music.”
“You’ve got a Ferris wheel in the backyard, and you’re worried the jazz is overboard?”
Jacinta’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then she smiled. “I guess you’re right,” she said ruefully. “I just wanted to make a big splash.”
“It’s awesome, Jacinta,” I said honestly. “The whole thing. The roses, the music, the carnival in the backyard, everything. People are having a great time.”
Suddenly she happily wrapped me in a big hug, the way a little kid might. She released me quickly, looking nervously at me, and I could tell it had been an impulsive move. I smiled at her to show her that it was okay. She visibly relaxed.
“Let’s go outside,” she said. “I want to see if—I want to see which guests have arrived. I actually haven’t even been downstairs yet.”
As we walked downstairs, I really took a look at her outfit for the first time. Unlike most of the guests, who looked as if they’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad, Jacinta’s ensemble was quirky and funky. She wore a long, translucent vintage-looking pink camisole over what looked like a vintage Victorian black corset (like me, she had nonexistent boobs, so the effect was pretty and elegant rather than va-va-va-voom sexy) and a black lace slip. Her black kitten-heel sandals matched her black-painted toes and nails, which also sported a constellation of tiny rhinestones. I could just imagine my mother’s face if I showed up with black fingernails with rhinestones. One arm was loaded with black plastic jelly bracelets, while the other was bare. And except for her white-blond eyebrows, you’d never know she wasn’t a natural redhead. Really, she was one of the most interesting-looking people I’d ever seen.
The white marble butterfly staircase was loaded with revelers, but the crowd parted as Jacinta regally descended. I followed, a little shyly, because suddenly all eyes were trained on us. Chatter fell to a hush, and the jaunty music would’ve had the spotlight if it hadn’t so obviously been occupied by Jacinta.
I felt someone grab my arm. Startled, I turned to face Audrey Fitzwilliams. She and Katharine, clearly wasted, stared at my new friend, open-mouthed.
“Is that Jacinta Trimalchio?” Audrey asked loudly. Her voice echoed in the quiet. Jacinta, halfway down the staircase, turned and smiled sweetly.