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

“Thanks,” he and I said at the same time.
    â€œWe’re almost there, kids,” Oliver announced, looking out his window at the huge alabaster museum. It took up almost three blocks opposite the fancy apartment buildings on Fifth Avenue.
    As our car approached the Met, I could see photographers’ cameras flashing and a steady stream of yellow taxis lining up to let out their partygoers. Forget Nolan, I thought. Reagan obviously had her sights on him. She’d get him, with her dark, silky hair, intense green eyes, and big boobs. Reagan is Teen Vogue ’s wet dream, and probably a boy like Nolan’s too. I love her, I really do—she’s one of my oldest friends—but she’s, well, she gets what she wants.
    *   *   *
    The car eased along the curb and came to a barely noticeable stop. My mother’s car must have arrived first because Vati, Farah, and Charlie rushed up to our car and Charlie opened the door on my side, before the driver could do it. I realized that those fifteen minutes might very well be the only ones I would ever spend so close to that gorgeous Bronx Science boy. As Charlie swung open the door, all of the mixed-sexes-new-boy-hot-car-close-proximity energy flew out like heat from an oven and the sharp November chill slapped some sense into me.
    â€œWrenny! Come out, this is so cool. Look at the photographers!”
    â€œOh god, Charlie, don’t say that out loud—how uncool , of course there are photographers,” Farah said, and bonked him on the arm with her clutch.
    â€œOh sorry, Miss New York City, I think I know that. I might remind you Nosh is catering this event.” He patted his hair down again.
    â€œI think photographers are cool, Charlie,” I said. “Maybe we can get one to take a picture of all of us. Right, Farah? ”
    Farah headed for the stairs. “I’m sorry, Charlie, I know your dad does these things all the time and of course you know about them.”
    â€œI do.” Charlie bucked up and straightened his tie.
    Last-minute adjustments happened in front of the mighty, illuminated museum as we tugged our dresses, wraps, and hair. Oliver and Nolan started heading up to the party. Senior boys, even if one is your dreadlock-haired brother, are old—they are like adults. Nolan put his hands in his pockets and swaggered.
    An event organizer dressed in a tux with a microphone in his ear pulled my mother away from a quick hello she was having with another elegantly clad woman and escorted her up the stairs to my father, who was trotting down, hair slicked back, and smiling. Dad looks as natural in a tux as a country singer looks in jeans and a T-shirt. He thanked the party planner, took my mother’s hand, lifted it up to admire her, and then brought her in to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled and said something to him just as they got to the top of the stairs, then Dad turned around.
    â€œDarlings! Come inside!” He beckoned to us. “Wrenny! You look beautiful down there!” That made Oliver and Nolan look back at me to see what Dad was yelling about. I must have been purple with embarrassment, because Nolan gave me the thumbs-up and I couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with Dad or making fun of me.
    â€œI saw that,” Farah said, as she screwed the lip-gloss top back on and put it in her clutch. “He’s into you. Let’s go.” My heart leaped with hope. Farah may like inappropriately older guys, but she’s smart about looks and the vibes people give.
    â€œWait,” Charlie said, not hearing what Farah had said to me. “To keep body and soul together”—he pulled a small brown paper bag out of his blazer pocket—“Swedish Fish.”

 
    14

    â€œWell, well, well,” said Bennet, by far my favorite guard at the museum. He was standing right at the entrance when we walked through the gigantic doors.
    Bennet sounds like Usain