Blossom in Winter Page 2

  Dad’s sitting at the breakfast table, reading The Wall Street Journal. He’s already dressed in his usual three-piece suit and just finishing his espresso.

  “Good morning, Dad.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Good morning, Petra,” he replies. Noticing that I’m still in pajamas, he lets out a breath in annoyance. “How many times have I asked you not to sit at the table dressed like that?”

  “I know, I know. But I need to talk to you before you go. You got home too late last night.”

  “Sorry, I got overloaded at work.” Pfff, the classic reply. “But tell me”—he closes his paper—“what do you want to talk about?”

  “Can I have a sleepover at Emma’s this Saturday night?”

  Dad chuckles, looking awkwardly playful. “Oh, Saturday night? Hmm, isn’t it the farewell party that night?”

  I roll my eyes and try to protest, “You always know everything. How did you know that?”

  “Emma’s father called. He personally invited you to the party.”

  “So does that mean I can go?”

  “Well, he told me there will be no alcohol served, no drugs, no cigarettes, and they’ve made sure the only guests invited are mature and well-behaved. So I said I’ll think about it.”

  I’m feeling as anxious as ever. “And?”

  Dad sneers. “And the answer is no, Miss. I know Emma very well. She clearly paid someone to sound like her father. I’m not that stupid.”

  “Emma would never do such thing.” Would she? “How can you be a hundred-percent sure it wasn’t him? Wasn’t he calling from his phone number?”

  “He was. But then I called her mother, and she had no idea about the party.”

  Damn, that really was Emma. “I’m sure there’s some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe Emma just spoke to her father about it…”

  “Why don’t you tell me the truth? Maybe if you do, I’ll even let you go.”

  It sounds like a lie, but I take the risk anyway. “Emma is hosting a party to celebrate the end of the semester Saturday night. It’s just a simple, casual, innocent party.”

  “You lie even better than me. Almost believed you.”

  “Dad, it’s the truth. And, let’s be honest, I’m sure if I do anything wrong, you’ll have plenty of people ready to report with pictures and videos in order to fall into your good graces.”

  “Indeed. If you do anything wrong at that party, I’ll find out, Petra,” he says sternly. “Is James going?”

  My heart skips a beat. “James?”

  “Yes, that boy you went to the theater with instead of doing your homework at Emma’s.”

  I ignore his nasty comment. “He is. But we are just friends. We’ve never done anything.”

  “I know that too. You know boys are a stupid and useless distraction, don’t you? A total waste of time. You need to be focused on your upcoming internship and starting at Columbia in the fall. I don’t want to be disappointed. I graduated with honors from there. I expect you to do the same,” he repeats for the thousandth time.

  “I know that. I’m totally focused, don’t worry.”

  He nods and ponders a bit further. “Well, since you got the best grades in your class, I’ll let you go—”

  “Thank you, Dad!” I immediately interject.

  “—for two hours!”

  “What? I can’t even stay at her house?”

  “Don’t ask too much, young lady. I’ll have Anthony pick you up at midnight sharp.”

  Located at the corner of Eighty-Third Street and Park Avenue, Loyola is walking distance from home, no longer than twenty minutes straight on the sidewalk. And yet, Dad has always insisted that either Janine or one of his drivers brings me to school.

  The first class of the day is English. I love English class. It’s one of the few I have with Emma. We always sit beside each other. Can’t wait to tell her the good news.

  “Hey, babygirl,” Emma greets from her seat. But I smile timidly at James first—he is right behind us.

  “Hi, Emma.” I sit beside her.

  I can feel everyone staring and commenting about my smile and unusually good mood.

  “So? Are you coming to the party tomorrow night?”

  I nod, victorious. “I have to leave at midnight, so you better start early.”

  “You go, girl!” Emma holds me tight in her arms.

  “Emma, I can’t breathe. Stop hugging me like that.”

  “Hey, folks! Petra is coming to the paaaaartyyy!” she screams while everyone’s waiting for Ms. Williams.

  The class starts applauding, laughing, making strange noises, and in the back, some unpleasant comments emerge. “Looks like Ms. Virgin is going,” I hear someone sniggering. “Finally, Ms. Prudish is doing something with her life.”

  “No way. Are you seriously coming?” asks James, taken aback. But I don’t reply; I feel so humiliated by Emma’s behavior. Sometimes Emma’s too much to handle.

  I lean closer to her and lower my voice. “Are you on drugs? That’s confidential.”

  “Oh, relax, babygirl. I got everything under control.” Then she whispers, “My parents are going away for the weekend. Believe me, we’re gonna have sooo much fun. I managed to disconnect the video cams so they’ll never find out what we do there. And no smartphones are allowed at the party.” She narrows her eyes, her lips twitching into a sly smile. “You and James will have a good time…”

  I gasp and hit her arm playfully. “Stop it, Emma. You’re freaking me out like that. I promised Dad I wouldn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know, I know… But we only live once, right?”

  James

  The sharp song of the school bell happily announces the end of the semester. Petra has her driver waiting outside, as always. And while the majority of students are going out to celebrate, others have far more important things to do, like me and my buddies who’re heading downtown to a very private meeting.

  We usually go to the cafeteria or library to discuss, but this time, since it’s a special reunion, we’ve decided to meet at an unpretentious and discreet restaurant, far from Loyola and our respective houses. We’ve even removed our jackets in order to not be recognized by our uniform badge.

  “Well, gents,” starts Fred, the oldest one and captain of our football team. “We’ve got an amazing party ahead. And looks like the Van Gatt is coming…”

  We all snigger.

  “James, she likes you, right?”

  “I don’t know, bro. We just went out once, and we didn’t even kiss… That chick is fucking weird.”

  “If you had a father like hers, believe me, you wouldn’t even look at girls,” adds Kevin. “I heard he hired private detectives and spies to follow her. Even the staff at school is paid to report to him.”

  “Rumors, Kevin. Those are just rumors,” I protest.

  But Kevin seems to know all the gossip better than anyone else. “I don’t think so, James. You know, she only came to Loyola because her mother intervened.”

  “Guys,” Fred interrupts. “Petra Van Gatt and Emma Hasenfratz are the wealthiest girls at Loyola, and they’re best friends. We can make a lot of money from both of them.”

  I slyly raise my eyebrows. “Emma said there will be no cams and no smartphones allowed… What are you thinking?”

  By the smile on his face, it looks like Fred has got a plan. “I’m gonna help Emma prepare for the party tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll hide an iPhone in the bathroom. During the party, James will bring Petra to one of the bedrooms, and hopefully she’ll already be sloshed. Kevin, you’ll go to the bathroom, grab the iPhone, turn it on, and hide it in your pocket, then you’ll discreetly open the door and record James with Petra lying on the bed, maybe already half naked, kissing each other, and more if we’re lucky. Once you’ve got the video, you send it to our WhatsApp group. Simple, right?”

  “What are you gonna do with that video?” I ask, perplexed.

  “Blackmail the ladies, of cours
e.”

  “What! Are you kidding? I’m out, bro. That’s insane,” I snap.

  “Look, we can ask for three hundred thousand dollars as blackmail. One hundred thousand in easy money for each of us.” Kevin and I glance at each other. “Fuck, just for a simple video of you and that chick kissing. Not bad, right?” But I’m not convinced and shake my head. “Oh, c’mon! Don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

  Seeing the hesitant look on our faces, Fred puts his hands on Kevin and me, bringing us closer to him. “Guys, Emma told us this is the last party she’ll have before going to Europe. It’s our last shot.”

  Manhattan, May 11, 2019

  Petra Van Gatt

  For my friends, Saturday is all about going to designer boutiques, coffee shops, and spas. For me, though, it means precisely the opposite. Hidden in my private atelier, I’m painting while listening to some old vinyl records from the fifties that I’d found in Dad’s library. “Ain’t We Got Fun” by Peggy Lee is playing. I sing along happily, knowing the lyrics by heart. I’m casual, dressed in my favorite large white shirt, my usual barrette keeping my hair out of my face, and a pair of comfortable jeans already stained with oil paint.

  Janine knocks. “Ms. Van Gatt.”

  I turn off the vinyl, then unlock and open the door just enough to talk to her. “Yes, Janine?”

  “It’s time to get ready for the party, Miss.”

  “Oh, right. Time flies here. What should I wear? A dress? Jeans? A skirt?”

  “A dress, Miss,” Janine replies excitedly. “I can't remember the last time I saw you wearing one.”

  “Well, Janine, I’m not even sure if I have one to begin with.”

  “Of course you do. It’s waiting for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Come with me.” Janine drags me by the hand to my dressing room. There I find a vintage navy-blue dress, sleeveless and with a scoop neck, hanging in my closet. It looks long enough for my taste.

  “It’s perfect.” I hug her tightly, my eyes sparkling. “Thank you, Janine. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss. You’ll look stunning.”

  I continue to admire the wonderful gift.

  “Would you like me to wake you up tomorrow morning?” she asks just before leaving the room.

  “Yes, please. I’m planning to have brunch with Emma at eleven o’clock, so kindly wake me up around ten.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  Janine chuckles. “There is no need, Miss. You already have it.”

  Chapter 2

  Hudson Valley, May 11, 2019

  Petra Van Gatt

  If there’s one thing Ms. Hasenfratz is known for in New York, especially among college students and young spoiled brats, it’s throwing the most amazing and exclusive parties. Her parents usually go on a weekend getaway once a month, leaving her at their big estate in the Hudson Valley all to herself. Indeed, Emma lives forty-five minutes from Manhattan. As long as no scandals hit the news on Monday morning, Emma believes that she can do, in theory, whatever she wants. Her parties have therefore become a much-anticipated monthly event.

  Emma prides herself on keeping a strict guest list, creating an irresistible desire to attend for outsiders. But not even in her parents’ wildest dreams would they imagine that their daughter is also known to drag the best drugs in town to her parties.

  Despite Emma’s denial, some rumors say she has already sold her body for cocaine. But who knows for sure? Rumors are rumors.

  However, this party will be a very special one. Every guest will be checked at the entrance, their smartphones taken, and no one can bring any alcohol or drugs. Security has also been reinforced. After all, it’s not every day that I’ll be attending.

  Emma once admitted that she’s always found my reserved and introverted nature fascinating. Weirdly enough (or not), we’ve always been the opposite in everything. While she loves sports, mainly baseball, I love arts and literature. Emma likes noise and people. Me? Silence and solitude.

  When someone asks how we can remain friends with such opposed characters, Emma always replies, “In our differences lies our strength.” It even became her life motto—and the first tattoo on her left inner forearm. Emma loves tattoos, but she has to hide them due to the strict dress code policy at school.

  Plus, let’s face it, being an only child, Ms. Hasenfratz is spoiled—very spoiled. Her parents have never said no to her desires. Except once when she wanted a nose piercing, which she ultimately did anyway. But, unlike me, Emma’s never gotten good grades. Her parents are known for making generous donations to the school, thus keeping everyone supportive of her continued attendance. In fact, what Emma loves the most is partying—this is her stage, her reign, and she is the queen.

  We finally reach the front entrance to her house.

  Looking out, it feels like everyone is staring. They probably never thought I’d truly make it.

  One of the security guards opens my door. “Good evening, Ms. Van Gatt. Welcome to the farewell party.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, getting out of the car.

  “As you may know, the rules for this event stipulate that we need to take your phone. You’ll get it back once you leave.” I hand the security guard my iPhone and am ushered into Emma’s house.

  I’m wearing the cocktail dress Janine found for me, along with stilettos for the first time, and guess what? I even put some more makeup on!

  “Look at her dress, so insipid and dated just like her,” I hear in the background.

  But I can’t blame them. After all, what is “Loyola’s most mysterious and introverted girl”—yes, that’s how they described me once in the school paper—doing at such a wild party?

  “Babygirl, finally! Can’t believe you made it!” Emma screams, coming toward me, her arms wide open.

  “I know! It’s crazy to be here!” We hug each other tightly, as we always do.

  “Wow! Are you going to the prom or what? You look like a virgin from the fifties. Is this all for James?” Emma finds herself amusing, but me not so much. “I’m joking. You look gorgeous.” She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You smell fucking good.” But looks like it was enough to catch my new jasmine fragrance. “Come with me, I’ve got something for you…”

  She drags me by the hand, and we go to a quiet corner where no one can see us.

  Emma opens her clutch and takes something from it.

  “A joint? Emma, you know perfectly well I don’t smoke.”

  “Oh, c’mon! A joint is nothing. You need to enjoy. This is your first party, after all.”

  “No, really. Stop.” I reach her hand before she can light it up. “Don’t smoke it near me. You know if Dad finds out, I will get in trouble.”

  “Pfff, fine. Always so strict. Anyway, what do you want to drink?”

  “Hmm… Do you have orange juice?”

  Emma guffaws and hugs me tightly again. “Of course, babygirl. Orange juice. I’ll find you some.”

  While Emma heads off, I size up the party. There are already over two hundred guests spread out from the living room to the terrace and pool area—probably the biggest party Emma’s ever hosted. The DJ’s now playing a famous R&B song and the crowd becomes euphoric. Some people have been pushed into the pool, along with an inflatable unicorn. Three girls who are clearly wasted scream out loudly before splashing in the water. Two other guys are starting a fight for no apparent reason. On the other side of the terrace, I can see a group, including Carol and Laura, who are having a heated contest involving tequila shots. The loser has to strip naked before jumping into the pool. And, understandably, not a single smartphone to record it. I barely know anyone here, and while I try to remain as friendly as possible, I've never felt like the subject of so much gossip. My dress seems to be the biggest talking point of the night. Looking around, I understand why—all the girls are wearing shorts, miniskirts, bikinis, or even tiny dresses that just cover their butts.

 
; Ah, finally! Emma, a cigarette between her lips, comes back to the terrace holding two glasses.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, orange juice. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  I start to drink but frown at the taste. “Are you sure?”

  “Not really,” she replies with a malefic grin and a wink. Not reassuring! “Enjoy your life, babygirl!” She gives me another quick smooch on the cheek. “Oh! Look who’s here.”

  I discreetly follow her stare.

  “James,” I gape. “I’m not sure if I can do it.” My heart begins thundering nervously fast. I decide to drink half the glass at once.

  “Of course you can. He likes you. You like him. It’s all good. Fred told me James came here only to be with you. C’mon, just talk to him and see.” She turns me around, pushing me toward him.

  I’m speechless. I want to run far, far away from him. James’s wearing a slim white shirt, making his biceps even more prominent, tight jeans, and matching sneakers. He looks so cute! He gazes at me and smiles. I smile back, my cheeks flushing.

  I reach out to Emma again. “Emma, please start talking to me so it looks like we’re engrossed in conversation. I think James is coming over here.”

  “How old are you, babe? Seriously, you’re nearly eighteen, and yet you behave like a twelve-year-old.” She looks over my shoulder. “Hi, James.”

  “Hi, Emma. Nice party!”

  “Thanks. Petra wants to speak with you. She thinks you look very hot tonight.”

  I can’t believe it! WTF, Emma? “Emma, stop.”

  But James smiles, obviously flattered.

  A hand on my shoulder, Emma leans over to whisper to me, “He’s all yours. Have fun.”

  Oh God! I finish my drink and give her my empty glass before she leaves.

  “I never thought you’d come,” he begins while moving closer to me, hands in pockets. “Honestly, I’m impressed.”

  “I thought I’d never come either,” I reply, the nerves flowing through my veins.