May
Their names were Alexander and Lillian Budd, but no one ever called them by their names. They weren’t “Alexander and Lillian,” they were simply “the twins.” Continue Reading
Even as children, it was obvious that though the two had their own individual faults and imperfections, together they were a single, almost indestructible, unit. A failing in one was compensated by an exceptional virtue in the other. Certain gifted children excel at complicated mathematics or classical violin or competitive eating, but the Budd twins had an innate ability for Life.
When the two of them were together—which was almost always—nothing could stand in their way, nothing was too difficult or devious, nothing couldn’t be conquered by the simple force of their indomitable will. Not even high school.
Beaumonde Academy is the most elite private high school in New Orleans: it was probably founded more than a hundred years ago, and I’m sure it has a minuscule teacher-student ratio, and those teachers are probably wise and attentive and better paid than most professors, and Beaumonde students almost certainly become well-rounded success stories who thank their beloved Latin teachers when they win Nobel Prizes and National Book Awards and Daytime Emmys.
But none of this mattered to the twins. To them, Beaumonde Academy was simply another challenge to conquer, another ingenious puzzle to solve.
At the beginning of their first year at Beaumonde, if the twins were known at all, they were known only as “that overdressed snob with the hot-ass sister.” Only one semester later, however, the two of them commanded the underclassmen; soon, being overdressed and snobby was not only okay, it something that all the boys wanted to be and all the girls wanted to be with.
The Budds knew that you didn’t win by playing the game…you won by controlling the game itself.
Alexander Budd had a seductive charm, a quick wit, and a stunning wardrobe. He was the pride of the school, the pinnacle of the student body, and the absolute beating heart of Beaumonde Academy. He knew everyone, he was aware of everything that was going on at any given time and was often the catalyst behind most of it. He had no official title at the school, he participated in no extracurricular activities, but he was responsible in his own way for almost everything that happened there. He made introductions, he granted favors, he played matchmaker.
His stunning sister Lillian was quiet and fierce and intelligent and chaste and looked like a particularly fine specimen of a long-thought-extinct race of ancient beings. Because she looked so different from anyone else at the school—and, it was suspected, anyone else in the entire world—she almost never caused the sort of resentment and jealousy that other women have towards the gorgeous in commercials for low-fat yogurt and diet soda. Alexander could charm hundreds for an afternoon; Lillian could inspire life-long loyalty, one person at a time.
Together, the twins were—to use the vulgar and simplistic term—“the most popular kids in school,” but mere popularity was never their aim. It wasn’t enough to run Beaumonde Academy…they had to recreate it from the ground up. They had to make it Proper.
Alexander described for his classmates a nightmare in which every teenager bought identical outfits at the same three or four stores at the mall. The clothes were poorly made with low-quality material; they were ill-fitting because an XL of twenty years was now labeled an M. The uniform of the American Teenager was jeans that didn’t fit, paired with a cheap cotton T-shirt adorned with the logo of the store where they’d bought it on clearance.
There was a time, he said, when the young, educated, and reasonably attractive actually dressed and acted as though they were these things. But no more…today the gravest sin was to stand out from the crowd. Now, in the Age Of Comfort, equality had been achieved at last, not by lifting up but by stooping down. Sweatpants and baseball caps for all, and let anyone who refuse them be labeled arrogant, pretentious, elite.
Adults were no longer interested in looking like adults, Alexander told them. When you’re forty and you dress like a toddler, you begin to act like a toddler. And so the social fabric was beginning to unravel. Etiquette was forgotten, email replaced stationery, men bragged about how long it had been since they’d worn their one suit.
But there was hope. In an world where every day a tailor went out of business, where every wannabe rebel wore the same t-shirt bought at the same store, where advertisers insisted you could only be a true original by buying their mass-market products…in a world like this, to dress and act like adults from a forgotten age was actually a victory of subversive non-conformity.
If a small and dedicated group of teenagers became passionate about how they looked, how they dressed, and how they acted, then they would begin to change their school and, eventually, the world. This was the only rebellion left in this ruined age, and—if done right—it would be revolutionary.
Style is substance.
•
The Beaumonde Academy prom was the crowning event of the Budds’ junior year. Traditionally held on the night before graduation, the Beaumonde prom is more of a formal dance, where students attempt the waltz, the tango, and the foxtrot to varying degrees of success and enthusiasm. The chief attraction of the dance floor during the Budds’ junior prom, though, wasn’t the dancing but the chance for members of the junior class to show off their Proper evening wear, and the air of easy grace with which (they hoped) they were wearing it.
Three years into the Budds’ reign at the school, Beaumonde Academy was transformed. The students had thoroughly embraced Alexander’s vision, and slowly began to reinvent themselves. Soon the halls of the school were filled with boys in neckties and fitted trousers, and girls in tailored dresses and simple unadorned jewelry. There were pen knives and monogrammed handkerchiefs, perfumed letters and cigarette cases.
The students, though, knew what the twins had established wasn’t even about the clothes. It was about discovering a way to live with grace and poise, about always knowing what to say and do without agonizing over it like other teenagers. It was about believing in and being a part of something that was larger than yourself, and the feeling of satisfaction that comes from doing your small part to make it happen.
After the jazz combo brought the last dance of the prom to an end, the boys bowed to their partners, then escorted them back to their seats. It was time for the final and most important event of the evening: the presentation of the McMillan Award, the highest honor at the school. The award supposedly went to the grade that best exemplified the spirit of Beaumonde Academy, but it was only technically a contest…the winners were allegedly determined by a mysterious and arcane set of guidelines, but in fact it went to the seniors every year.
Well, almost every year. That year, for only the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time in their school’s history, the junior class upset the seniors to win the McMillan. It shouldn’t have shocked anyone, considering what an impact the Budds, their Gang, and the rest of the class had made on the Academy, but at the time it seemed unfathomable. The McMillan Award is completely meaningless, and is therefore obsessed over by the students, teachers, and alumni of Beaumonde Academy. This made the juniors’ win a Very Big Deal, as it hadn’t been won by a class other than the seniors in over ten years.
As the juniors celebrated their win—tastefully and Proper, of course—there was the feeling that this was the turning point. This was the night that everything would change. Junior year was over…just ahead would be the triumph of senior year.
And then the real work would begin. After graduation, the students would spread out across the country, doing for their colleges and universities what the twins had done for Beaumonde. Soon, what had begun as a rebellion would become a revolution, as tens of thousands of Proper college graduates spilled out into that vulgar world beyond, ready to rebuild it in their own more elegant image.
It was a ridiculous goal, a laughable one, and no one except the twins ever took it very seriously. But on prom night, as the rest of the juniors took pictures of the Budds holding the McMillan, it didn’t just seem plausible…it seemed inevitable.
They said it would be the night everything changed, and it was true, nothing would be the same again. That same night, just a few hours later, City Councilman Lucas Budd—the twins’ father—would be sprawled on a sidewalk on the edge of the French Quarter, handcuffed and raving, with clothes askew and legs akimbo, as police photographers carefully cataloged the powders and pills being gently lifted from his trunk. There were even reports that a young man fled from the scene, but they were never proven.
Overnight Lucas Budd would go from being one of the city’s only true crusaders to political poison, and within two weeks, Mrs. Budd would announce that she would be returning to her childhood home of Lafayette for the summer, shielding her children from the toxic media environment her husband ‘s activities had created.
Back at the prom, though, no one knew exactly how much things were going to change that summer. All they knew was that they were at the end of an extraordinary year and a triumphant night.
Everyone was happy, everyone was loved, everyone was Proper. But the student body knew that none of what they’d achieved—the clothes, the award, the elegance—would have been possible if it weren’t for the brother and sister in the middle of the crowd.
Their names were Alexander and Lillian Budd, but no one ever called them by their names. To everyone at Beaumonde Academy, they were better known—out of admiration, out of jealousy, out of fondness, out of envy—as simply The Darling Budds.
This is not their story.
———
June
One
“I know three months seems like a long time right now, but it’s really not. And if we decide to come back in the fall, you’ll be the first to know…”
Two
Suddenly on the TV was a shaky shot of the Budds’ house. The garage door was closing slowly and Mrs. Budd’s sedan was pulling out of the driveway. It was over before Litta’Bit even registered what she was seeing…
Three
Robert set his phone down. The twins were already gone, and for the whole summer. He tapped his middle finger on the screen of his phone, lost in thought, before deciding there was nothing he could do about it. But then he found himself climbing the stairs to the second story…
Four
Andre pulled off his black t-shirt and stared at his gut. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on one of the guest towels and put them back on. It was no good: his belly was definitely getting bigger…
Five
Josephine sat on the edge of her unmade bed and gently, as though it were very hot, took her phone out of the charger and stared down at it. Why in the world was Andre calling her? What did he want…?
Six
No one at Beaumonde knew much about Michael Karlinoff—and not for lack of trying—except that he was as beautiful as his girlfriend Lillian, and that he wasn’t a student of Proper, or even an enthusiast, but rather the living embodiment of it…
Seven
“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t want me in The Gang. But we’re not trying to take over, that’s ridiculous. This isn’t a coup. This isn’t Parliament. There’s no reason to- Look, they’re coming back in, like, three months…”
Eight
“Michael, why…why do you always do this? You’re so cold to me, and I’ve never done anything to you. Then every so often we’ll start to get along, and just when you’re beginning to enjoy yourself, you freeze up again…”
Nine
David’s mother tells the women she goes to lunch with that David is just shy and a late bloomer. In fact, David is neither of these things.From an early age, he suspected that he wasn’t like other guys. During seventh grade’s Christmas break he confirmed matters once and for all…
Ten
This morning he was a new man. He shook off the depression and sadness of the last couple of weeks, literally shook them off, starting with his fingers and moving all the way down his body, and he was ready to become a useful member of the world again…
Eleven
“You never want to.” Robert sighed and let go of her. “Elizabeth, we haven’t done anything since before the Budds left. Since before school let out, really. I mean, not even on Prom night…”
Twelve
It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. Nobody knew what it was like for her. David could stay in bed for three weeks, but she had to hide it all behind a dumb smile and bright blinking eyes. And she couldn’t tell anyone…
Thirteen
“I’ve been thinking about you all morning, and I think I know what you need.” Belinda Bellecastle narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “This is your last summer of high school, you should be out getting in trouble and worrying me sick. You need an adventure…”
Fourteen
He missed Lillian, of course, and he missed Alexander. He missed the rest of The Gang, too, even if they’d never really considered him one of them. He missed Emily, he missed David and Litta’Bit and Robert, Andre and Josephine. And, in a way he only barely understood, he missed himself…
Fifteen
If the subject of television comes up, Andre will always make a big deal about how he’s totally lost because he simply never watches TV.However, like most people who say they never watch TV, he actually watches quite a bit of it…
Sixteen
“Is there something you need to tell me?” She looked down at the table, then back up into his eyes. “This isn’t some big dramatic deal. But I want to spend time with you this summer, and I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me…”
Seventeen
However, at this point in his life, Robert’s a little less concerned with keeping up the Johnson family legacy than with other, more immediate concerns, like fitting in with the rest of the Gang, making sure that Michael doesn’t steal valedictorian away from him, and getting his girlfriend to put out a little more consistently…
Eighteen
While whispering secrets in the dark their other selves would be revealed to each other. As their voices became softer, they would tell each other things they had no one else to tell, what they hoped for and what they were scared of. Andre never told anyone about these phone calls…
Nineteen
In a life of stoic self-discipline, these were her one of her only indulgences, and Josephine tried not to overdo it. She didn’t want to get so used to the sensation that she became immune to it. Only someone who’d known her since grade school would have thought to bring her such a gift…
Twenty
Now she was here in his arms, with her mouth warm and hungry against his own. “I haven’t heard from you all week,” Litta’Bit whispered. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” She pulled an exaggerated pout that was meant to be playful, but there was an edge to it, too…
Twenty-One
Ellen Hayes imagined all the restaurants, coffeehouses, and movie theaters across New Orleans that were, at the very moment, being infiltrated by the exquisite aliens who attended Beaumonde…
Twenty-Two
A look of passion and frustration passed over the face of the man outside her window, and Emily was briefly worried again. The man angrily pointed at his eye and mouthed the word back at her: “Eye…”
Twenty-Three
“Forgiveness is standing by someone you love after they’ve done something you hate. Forgiveness is allowing them to be punished for the things they deserve to be punished for. And forgiveness is taking their hand and leading them on that uneasy journey back into your heart…”
Twenty-Four
Andre had the beginning of a blog entry forming in his mind. Something about how adults wanted to be with imaginary teens but teens only wanted to be with adults. No, that wasn’t quite it, it was more about the fantasy of teenage girls versus the reality. No, that wasn’t exactly it, either…
Twenty-Five
Emily looked over her shoulder at Michael’s wardrobe, then turned back to him with a small smile. “You know, this is something I’ve been thinking about since our talk on Thursday night, but I think it’s just now really hit me. You’re not really like Alexander at all…”
Twenty-Six
Andre’s dad stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He was slightly out of breath, and his right hand tugged shyly on his left’s fingers. His glasses were slightly askew. Here was Reuben Meyer, the final product of a dynasty that stretched across generations and continents…
Twenty-Seven
“When my daughter was a little girl, she asked me why we named her Lillian. I told heras we were leaving the hospital, a nurse walked by with a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful lily fell into her bassinet. And so we named her Lillian…”
Twenty-Eight
“I’ve been stuck in this house, alone, for three weeks. Everyone I know has abandoned me. Now…I miss my wife. I miss my friends. But most of all, I miss my kids, who just happen to be almost exactly your age. Could you see it in your heart to play a few board games with a lonely old man…?”
Twenty-Nine
Lucas Budd took a seat in the leather chair they’d found him in, while Emily and Michael sat on two overstuffed file boxes at his feet, the dull red glow of the fire across their faces. Lucas looked at his hands. “Damn,” he whispered softly. And then he began to talk…
Thirty
Emily turned around. Michael sat with his feet apart, his hands clasped between his knees, looking at the a single square of light on the hardwood floor. “Michael, we just got played, didn’t we…?”
Thirty-One
“The hell a rich boy can’t have the blues. Did they not see that you black? I don’t care how rich you are, you probably got about five hundred songs in you today, just about that right there…”
Thirty-Two
The room held its breath: they could step into each other’s arms now and embrace, there in the dark and without another word. It would be nothing—a simple journey through six inches of empty air—to change everything forever…
Thirty-Three
Ronald Maglione stared at the index card in his hand and sighed. He didn’t know who they were or what they were doing here tonight, but life was about to get very interesting for Emily Bellecastle and Michael Karlinoff…
———
July
Thirty-Four
“This man has plead innocent at his hearing and is yet to be found guilty in any court. When the day comes that he is found guilty, we’ll do what we have to do. But until then, we cannot punish an innocent man…”
Thirty-Five
Over the last few weeks, they had surprised each other with their ability to go from civility to passion within seconds. Every lull in conversation held the potential to be transformed instead into a clinch, a devouring…
Thirty-Six
“Emily. I am extremely disappointed in you. No daughter of Bonnie Belle has any business being this bad at lying to her mother. We’re going to have to ask those gypsies for our money back…”
Thirty-Seven
The man had a straw cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes, and moved his lips slowly as if in prayer. His girlfriend or wife clung to his arm, her mouth slightly open, and twitched occasionally as though she dreamed of chasing or being chased…
Thirty-Eight
Josephine didn’t know how long she sat there, watching the moon rise and the trees refuse to budge in the sodden air, but she finally stirred when the dogs of the neighborhood began barking and the man lifted himself clumsily over her back fence…
Thirty-Nine
“You know you’re just as dirty as he is in that deal, right? It might take him out—I said might—but it’s gonna blow up in your face just as bad. And that’s not to mention the innocent bystander…”
Forty
A young girl jogged past Maglione, eyes straight ahead, as he sat in a driveway with his lights off. She could have been a college student, but she looked younger. He wished he could show her some of the savage shit that went down in the city every single night…
Forty-One
Josephine slowly turned something over in her mind as she stared across the moonlit grounds at the two bikes, one chained to the other. Emily’s cruiser nuzzled against a yellow ten-speed with brown grip-tape there just underneath the buttery light of Emily’s bedroom window…
Forty-Two
She knew she wanted something different, wanted it desperately, but she just didn’t know what exactly it was. The ghost of Elizabeth’s better life circled constantly behind her back, but it always fled when she turned back to catch a glimpse, and she never saw its face…
Forty-Three
Michael, who up to that moment looked like an artist’s model posing silently for a figure study titled Listening To His Friend Speak, looked up with a jerk. Andre saw something in his eyes that he had never expected to see: true and graceless terror…
Forty-Four
“So when a whisper about someone I know starts going around, you better believe I’m gonna put that to bed with a quickness. Especially someone like you, Harry, who I know has the good sense to stay the fuck away from Lucas Budd at all costs…”
Forty-Five
It would be at the end of the summer, after he could jog for miles and miles without walking, and she’d see him and stop in front of him and then they’d jog together at last, and every morning from then on, it would be their little secret that no one else in The Gang needed to know about…
Forty-Six
Rain began hitting the windows again, one drop at a time. Emily’s voice was low, barely audible over the rain, but she didn’t break eye contact with Harry. “Because if we help clear this mess up, the twins will come home…”
Forty-Seven
He looked up at her with an expectant smile, and the hopeful look on his face made Litta’Bit suddenly feel so sorry for him. She felt guilty about how she treated Robert, and at the same time she knew that it was worse than that: she would never feel guilty enough to treat him differently.
Forty-Eight
Michael had no idea what time it was, but he could tell that it was no longer just late…it was the middle of the night, and a middle-of-the-night mood prevailed. David sat his drink down on the patio and looked up at Michael, his head still bent low. “I know gossip about you, too.”
Forty-Nine
He would drive his weakness and uncertainty out of himself. Where there had been vulnerability, now there was only determination; where there had been doubt, now there was conviction. He became a statue, a memorial to the time he had failed her, waiting in hard silence for her touch to return him to flesh.
Fifty
“You know, you’re not unique. There’s one of you every few years. You’re a bit more discrete about it, I’ll give you that, but you’re not unique. And they’re always found out…every single one of them. Always.”
Fifty-One
“I don’t even know what I’m protecting them from. I haven’t…I haven’t figured it out yet. There’s something about him that doesn’t add up.” Robert blinked at himself, unsure of where this was coming from. “I don’t want Lillian to get hurt.”
Fifty-Two
“Take it from a member in good standing…it’s such a terrible waste of your time, your energy, your effort. Your life. Promise me, Cat…promise me you won’t join The Stupid Club.”