Read Online Starry Night by Isabel Gillies - Free Book Online Page A

stoop where I was standing holding my breath.
    â€œHere, let me help you.” He took my hand.
    â€œOh thanks, no, I’m fine. It’s okay, I just had to get down the stairs, but I’m totally fine now.” But he didn’t let go of my hand until we got to the car.
    â€œHere, I’ll get in first and sit on the bump in the middle.” He opened the car door and did a head-first-guy-get-in-the-car move. I turned to see my mother watching me get in the car, as she was getting into hers. “See you there!” she called, and waved her brown satin evening purse in the air. I copied Reagan and turned around, trying to elegantly seat myself in the car, gathering my dress and making sure it didn’t touch the leafy gutter between the curb and the street. I felt like one of those practical-joke snakes getting shoved back into the peanut tin.
    Oliver was in the front seat with the driver.
    â€œTo the museum?” the driver guy said.
    â€œYes, sir!” said Oliver. I was staring at his hair, which between sophomore and senior year had morphed from an out-of-control ringlety blond mop to dreadlocks. He turned around and smiled in an I’m-about-to-make-fun-of-you way.
    â€œIs that Mom’s dress?”
    I flushed. Jeez, Oliver.
    â€œYes.” I smoothed it down, trying not to touch Nolan’s leg that was one centimeter away from mine, but he didn’t know it because he couldn’t see my leg. He could sure see Reagan’s legs, which were toned and comfortably crossed on his other side.
    â€œIt’s really pretty,” Nolan said.
    â€œOh thanks.” I looked up briefly but with enough time to see the same smile he’d given me in the doorway. I shot my head back down as casually as I could. “Um, yeah, she wanted me to wear it, so.” The car turned into Central Park and accelerated through the winding transverse to the East Side.
    â€œI love these parties,” Reagan said, looking out the window at the trees rushing by.
    Huh ? I thought. What is she talking about? I had never been to one of these parties and I was fairly certain she hadn’t been to any either, let alone many.
    â€œYeah, they must jump off. I’ve seen pictures of them in the Times ,” Nolan said, seeming to believe that Reagan knew what she was talking about.
    â€œYeah, this isn’t the Fashion Institute thing, but it will still be cool. Cy Dowd will be there,” Oliver said. He had been to a few of these parties with Mom and Dad, but what was he doing dropping Cy Dowd’s name?
    â€œI’ve never been to a party like this, but the museum is like my second home, sort of,” I said. Then, sotto voce to Nolan, “And I really don’t think Cy Dowd, the most famous living contemporary artist in the world, will be hanging at the kiddie table with us, but whatever.”
    â€œWho is Cy Dowd?” Nolan said, kind of to me.
    â€œThe Met is one of my favorite places on earth ,” Reagan pronounced before I could answer.
    What? What was Reagan doing? And so loud? I bet the last time she went to the Met was in third grade when her class took a trip to see the Chinese Garden Court with Ms. Rios.
    â€œWhat do you love about it?” Nolan asked in a real, curious way. Oh, okay, he’s going to love Reagan.
    â€œOh my god, what isn’t there to love?” She took her cat eyes away from the park and flashed them up at Nolan. I think she even batted them. Now I was getting hot and felt super crunched. I involuntarily pushed out a little like I needed space and sort of elbowed Nolan. “Oh, here—let me move over, you look jammed in there.” He shifted toward Reagan. Why did I wear the dress? “I’m fine, I think my leg is just falling asleep.”
    â€œI have some room over here,” Reagan purred, sliding her narrow figure over toward the door. I felt Nolan’s leg that had been so close to mine move away.