Our intimacy reached a new level, if you know what I mean, and it turned out he was good for my game. I scored goals in seven consecutive matches, a stretch in which we qualified for the AAC tourney in mid-November. I had made it through two deb balls and three more deportment classes without incident. Ann nearly smiled at me at Sydney’s classic Black and White Ball, and I was relieved to know that no matter how sucky our party, it would have to be better than Ashley Two’s disastrous Arabian Nights, a party so over-the-top even Lauren looked pained to be there—the ginormous blow-up rubber Moroccan tent and imported belly dancers were the good parts. Julia and Zach were a sizzling, delicious thing. I approved and he practically lived at our place. Best of all, Hank’s “drawings” of the Aberdeen turned out to be full-blown plans, gorgeous renderings that, if carried out, meant the Aberdeen’s future would be ranching houses, not cattle—very big houses, on massive lots, with a greenbelt, a central barn and arena, and riding trails for horses.
