The Anti-Prom (5 page)

But Meg shakes her head again, determined. “Can you please move?”

Jolene slips out to let her past, and I shoot her an annoyed look.

“Relax,” she mouths back, following Meg toward the exit. I gulp a final mouthful of soda and start to bolt after them. Then I remember Denise, and how tired she looked, stuck working the late shift on a Friday night. I pause to quickly clear our trash away.

When I get outside, they’re standing next to Meg’s car in the middle of the empty parking lot, the neon glow from the fast-food signs shining against the pale sky.

“Do you really want to say no to me?” Jolene is saying, arms folded. “I mean, I’m not asking much, but if you can’t even help me out with this . . .” She trails off, badass once more. Pink ruffles or not, her threat is clear.

Meg tremors. “I’m sorry, but . . . no.”

Wow. Turning down Jolene? Maybe she does have some guts after all.

“I get it.” I walk closer. Time for the good cop. “You’re what, a junior?” I give her a friendly smile. Meg nods. “Exactly. We’ve got college applications coming up; you don’t want to risk everything for someone like Kaitlin.” I pause. “I mean, she’s never done anything to you, has she?”

It’s not much of a long shot. Kaitlin’s done something to
everyone
.

Sure enough, Meg’s expression hardens, just a little. “Actually —”

I don’t let her finish. “I told you.” I talk over her to Jolene. “I said she’s not the type. She’s a good girl. I bet she’s never done anything crazy like this.”

Jolene tries not to smile. “You’re right.” She sighs. “I don’t know, I just thought she would want . . . never mind.” She shrugs, sending a ripple of pink tulle across her chest. “We’ll find someone else.”

“Someone with some nerve,” I agree. Turning back to Meg, I give her a perky grin. “Don’t worry — we’re good. You can get home now.”

“Right,” Jolene says, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder. “We don’t want you missing curfew.” She starts to walk away, toward the busy highway. I follow, calling back to Meg.

“Thanks for the ride. Enjoy the rest of your night!”

I catch up with Jolene. She’s already counting under her breath. “One, two, three . . .”

“What if she doesn’t go for it?” I whisper, panicked. “These shoes are so not made for walking.”

“Oh, she’ll do it.” Jolene flashes me a grin. “Four, five, six —”

“Wait!”

We turn around. Meg is standing there, keys in hand and a surprised look on her face, almost like she can’t believe what she’s saying. “I’m in.”

She clears her throat and says it again, louder. Determined. “I’m in. For your plan. Tonight. I’m in.”

I should have guessed it from the ice cream. Hot fudge sauce would have shown some promise, candy topping hints at a little spark, and even plain flavor would have been simple and determined. But rainbow sprinkles? Child’s play. By the time we pull up a safe half block away from Kaitlin’s house, Meg is already set to wimp out on us.

“Are you sure you have to do this?” she asks, turning the engine off. She blinks fearfully at the mini-mansions and manicured lawns rolling out around us, a quiet enclave of wealth and obedient household staff. “Just think what will happen if you get caught, all the trouble —”

“We won’t get caught.” I ignore her, turning to Bliss. “You ready?”

She nods, bouncing out of her seat with enthusiasm.

“Then let’s go.” I grab my bag and reach for the car door, but something in Meg’s expression makes me think twice. I remember how I felt at the start, those early days hanging out with boys whose fingertips were always stained with spray paint, boys who could start a car just by reaching under the dashboard, boys who didn’t leave the house without wire cutters and a flask. It was thrilling, sure, but I was terrified, too — that lurch of panic kicking low in my gut. I barely feel a flicker now, but back then, I would wait for sirens, always ready to bolt.

I pluck her purse from between the seats and rifle through for her slim wallet.

“Wait, what are you —”

“Security,” I tell her, holding up her driver’s license with a grin. “You wouldn’t think of driving off and leaving us here, right? Especially not without your license. That would be very bad.”

“Illegal,” Bliss agrees from the backseat. Meg’s face falls.

“I said I’d wait.”

“And now I know for sure that you will,” I tell her, slipping her license in my bag. “Now, keep watch on the driveway, and call me if you see any cars pull up, OK? I’ve programmed our numbers into your cell.”

Meg nods. She’s still resentful, but the protest is gone from her expression. Good girl.

“And keep the engine running,” I add. “We might need to make a quick getaway.”

Bliss is already bounding ahead of me up the sidewalk, like we’re heading to a pep rally, not a break-in. “Chill, Bambi.”

“Sorry.” She drops back, still glowing with excitement. “Kaitlin’s house is just up . . . here.” She falls silent as we reach a huge red-brick house at the end of the cul-de-sac. All the houses in this part of town are look-at-me large, but this one is even bigger than the rest. And occupied. Lights are on in every room, classic rock music drifts from an open window, and I can see a woman walking between rooms inside, chatting on the phone. Great.

“I thought you said they were out for the night.” I turn to glare at her. I may have learned certain . . . skills when it comes to getting into places I shouldn’t, but that’s only when there’s nobody around to dial 911 and wield their desk-drawer handgun.

Bliss bites her lip. “Sorry. Does that mean it’s off?”

“Nope.” I sigh. “But we’ll have to find a Plan B, unless you want to just walk right in . . . Wait, I wasn’t serious!” But Bliss is already sashaying toward the front door.

“Follow my lead and look normal,” she whispers at me, smoothing down her hair.

I attempt a perky grin.

“I said normal, not psychotic.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, but I adjust my expression just as Bliss hits the bell. A moment later, Kaitlin’s mom answers, holding the phone speaker-down against her shoulder.

“Bliss, honey, what are you doing here?” She’s bronzed and rake-thin, wearing a crisp white shirt and khakis. You know, typical relaxed Friday-night clothes. “I thought you kids would be out for hours.”

“Hi, Mrs. Carter!” Bliss choruses. “We will be; don’t worry. But we’re having a fashion emergency. Kaitlin’s bra snapped!”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Carter looks suitably horrified.

“I know!” Bliss agrees. “She can’t leave the bathroom, of course, so Jo . . . anna and me volunteered to come pick up a replacement.”

She caught herself just in time. Even the mention of my name is enough to strike fear into the heart of every parent in town.

“Of course.” Mrs. Carter waves us into the vast marble hallway, already putting the phone back to her ear. “You know where her room is.”

“Sure I do!” Bliss beams again, hurrying toward the stairs. “We won’t be a minute!”

I follow her up to the first floor, pausing to scope out the framed family portraits covering every wall, full of dead-eyed creepy smiles.

“How’s that for fast thinking?” Bliss crows.

“We’re not done yet,” I remind her as she heads for the room at the far end of the hallway. I follow her inside, quickly closing the door behind us, already in attack mode. I figure we have about five minutes before Mrs. Carter comes to check; more, if she’s gossiping with an old friend. That means we need to —

I stop. “Somebody lives here?”

“Yeah.” Bliss flops down on the king-size bed covered in crisp white linens. “Kaitlin’s kind of a neat freak.”

Something of an understatement. The pale carpet is spotless, every surface is clear, and there’s nothing but a mirror and a makeup box out on the dresser. I shiver at all the perfection. My room may fit in the en suite bathroom, but at least it doesn’t look like a catalog shoot. “Weird. Anyway, you want to get searching?”

“Oh! Right.” Bliss bounces up again and heads to the gleaming flat-screen computer in the corner. “If we’re lucky, she won’t . . . Oh, crap.” She stops.

I look over her shoulder at the screen. The background is set to a big photo of Kaitlin, Bliss, and the rest of their shiny clique, but hovering in front of it is a little box demanding our password.

“Seriously?” I ask. “The girl is happy wandering around the locker room completely naked, but now she has to worry about privacy?”

Bliss shrugs. “She’s always complaining about her little sister snooping around. I guess she’s paranoid.”

“And has something on there worth protecting,” I say decisively. “Keep trying. Most people use basic stuff for their passwords: birthdays, pet names. I’ll see if she’s got anything stashed around here.”

“OK.” Bliss settles into the desk chair while I go lift the bedspread and peer underneath. It’s where I keep my contraband, but apparently I have a different definition of banned substances. Instead of cigarettes, a vibrator, or even coffee (Mom swears it will stunt my growth), Kaitlin’s got what looks like the entire back-catalog of
ChicK
magazines under the bed, neatly stacked according to year. Like I said:
weird
.

“Any luck?” Bliss is still clicking away.

“Not yet.” I pull out every box to be sure, checking for anything remotely illicit. It’s like peeking into another universe: a world of designer purses, stacked heels, and discarded makeup sets barely out of the box. MAC, NARS, Lancôme . . . God, she’s got my entire yearly paycheck down here, gathering dust.

I move on. The bedside tables are decorated with a few photos in heavy silver frames. Kaitlin and crew at the lakeshore. Kaitlin and crew hanging out by the pool. Kaitlin and Bliss, grinning widely in matching red bikinis. They look happy, like best friends should. Suppose you never can tell.

I glance over at Bliss, wondering again why she’s going through with all this effort and strategy, when she could just knee that ex of hers in the groin and be finished with it. It’s what I would do. When I found out my last boyfriend had been hooking up with the door girl from Club Ninja behind my back, I made like Carrie Underwood and dug a vicious scratch into his precious car. But maybe Bliss has her reasons. Just like I have my reasons for humoring her until I can get on with my own agenda for the night.

Finished with the tables, I’m just heading to the dresser when I look up. “Holy sh — ugar!” I jump, clutching my chest. A small kid is standing in the doorway, watching us silently with big, dark eyes.

“Avery, hi!” Bliss looks panicked. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

The girl just stares. She’s sucking her thumb, dressed in a hideous lacy nightgown covered in ribbons and bows.

“What do we do? Just . . . ignore her?” I whisper. I’ve watched way too many demon spawn movies not to be freaked out by her pale skin and perfect little ringlets.

“I don’t know,” Bliss whispers back, so I tentatively take another few steps toward the dresser.

“What are you doing?” Avery finally takes her thumb out of her mouth.

“I’m your sister’s friend, remember?” Bliss pastes on an innocent smile, the same one that reduces adults to putty. Avery isn’t so easily convinced.

“Why are you looking through her stuff? She doesn’t like it when I look through her stuff. Mommy says it’s wrong.” The kid glares at me.

“I, umm . . .”

“We’re looking for something!” Bliss says quickly. “Kaitlin lost something very important. We’re helping her find it!”

“Mommy says I’m not allowed to look.” Avery takes a step back toward the hallway. She raises her voice into that high-pitched, bratty tone. “Momm —!”

In an instant, I lunge forward and grab her, clamping my hand over her mouth. She squeals, biting down on my fingers. Hard. “Owww!” I groan, struggling to stay quiet. Bliss stares at me in shock. “You want to shut the door?” I tell her, fighting to keep the kid in my arms. She quickly does it.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving your ass,” I tell her, wrestling Avery into an armlock. I’m careful not to hurt her, however much she kicks and flails against me. Then she throws herself to the side, and I lose my balance. “Mneugh!” I fall hard, twisting my body at the last minute so that I hit the ground beneath her, instead of the other way around.

This is why I’m never going to breed.

“You want to maybe keep trying?” I order. Bliss looks at me as if I’m crazy, but she starts hitting keys again. Which leaves the demon spawn to me.

Gritting my teeth, I try my best to sound friendly. “Hey, kid! Kid, I’m not letting go until you keep quiet.” I hold tight and eventually she stills. “Good.” I exhale. “Now, we’re going to make a deal here. You know what a deal is?”

She shakes her head against me.

“A deal is where you stay quiet, and I give you something. Anything you want. Do you like the sound of that?”

A pause, and then she nods. Ah, capitalism.

“OK. But if you call for your mommy, the deal’s off.” I slowly release her. Avery folds her little arms and glares at me, but she doesn’t scream.

“I want my present.”

“I’m sure you do.” I pick up my bag from where I left it on the bed, nursing my poor hand. Damn, that kid’s got teeth on her. “Bliss, status?”