Ballads of Suburbia (17 page)

He dropped his fist but didn't release her. “No. Look them in
the eye and say, ‘I'm sorry, Kara, you aren't a slut.' ‘I'm sorry, Maya, you aren't a slut.'”

Mary did as told and Christian let her go, muttering, “Don't lie about people I care about.”

Watching Jessica and Mary jet down the path, Maya whistled, “Nice. She was cruisin' for a bruisin.” She laughed at her own cliché like always and her laughter made the situation funny, not scary.

There'd been a split second-somewhere between Mary's first apology and when Christian lowered his fist-that I thought
this has gone too far,
worrying that Christian might really lose his temper. But all he did was ask for an apology, and in the end, it didn't seem much different than the first day I met Maya when she defended me against Maggie Young's bitchy remark.

Liam and Maya high-fived Christian and so did I. I wasn't used to people standing up for me and I liked knowing that both Christian and Maya had my back.

C
HRISTIAN ASKED ME OUT A TOTAL
of six times in two weeks. “Why do you keep turning him down?” Maya asked as we sat on my bedroom floor sharing my full-length mirror to prepare for Shelly's Halloween party. I was going as Cinderella with a punk-rock twist and Cass and Maya were to be my decidedly non-Disney wicked stepsisters.

“I have a better question. What's going on with you and my brother? I'm not choosing sides when you two break up,” I admonished sternly, reaching for the can of Aqua Net. Cinderella with a punk-rock twist meant that we'd spiked my black and blue hair.

Maya rolled her eyes. They were smeared with red lipliner, because in the un-Disneyfied Cinderella story the stepsisters' eyes are pecked out by pigeons. “We're not going to break up because we aren't really dating. We both think love is for suckers. We get along really well, so we're friends. And I know you'd rather not know this”—Maya playfully leaned out of slapping distance—but Liam's a good kisser, so we make out on occasion. We're mutually exploring the sexual tension in the platonic male-female relationship. It's a social experiment. No one's going to get hurt.”

I cringed and not just because of the word “sexual” being
applied to my little brother who'd only recently turned fifteen. “Wasn't I already a victim of that social experiment? Why not trust my results?”

“Oh, Kara.” Maya met my gaze in the mirror, her fake-bloodied eyes brimming with sympathy. “That's why you keep turning Christian down, isn't it? Trust me, he's the complete opposite of Adrian.”

“It has nothing to do with Adrian,” I huffed, turning my attention back to my hair.

Maya sighed, but let it go. She grabbed the phone from my bed to page Cass again. We'd been waiting over an hour for her. The full impact of our costumes would be lost if we arrived at Shelly's minus one wicked stepsister.

Finally, Cass returned a page. Maya answered, but I knew Cass wasn't coming once I heard Maya remind her to pour fake blood in her shoes because she was supposed to be the stepsister that cut her heels off to bag Prince Charming.

Maya hung up as I put on the combat boots she'd lent me. They were already covered in doodles she'd painted in Wite-Out, so she'd added GLASS on one steel-toe and SLIPPERS on the other. Maya smiled at her own handiwork, but then she pouted and said, “Cass isn't coming. And she's tripping again.”

“So,” I said with a shrug. Initially, I'd been alarmed by how much acid Cass dropped, but since no one else seemed concerned, I deluded myself into thinking it was no worse than smoking pot. Besides, hallucinogens and pills were gaining favor among our friends. Shelly's parties had come to center more around drugs than kegs.

“But now she can't partake in the Halloween treat I got for the three of us.” Maya extended her hand, revealing three tiny blue pills. You could have mistaken them for something innocent like Advil if you didn't notice the Buddha stamped on them.

“Is that ecstasy?” I asked in an awestruck whisper. I'd never
done it before, but Maya had a couple of times in Florida and swore it was the happiest drug on the planet.

“Yeah, and who's gonna take the third pill now? We don't have enough for both Christian and Liam, and I bet Harlan sold the rest of his supply.”

“Liam won't take it. He thinks anything besides pot is a hard drug. He got pissed at me this summer for trying the Tylenol with codeine that Harlan got from his dentist.”

“Okay, well, Christian'll take it. I just didn't want to leave anyone out. Ready to go?” She paused in front of the mirror to admire her baby-shit-green dress that some evil bride had once tortured her bridesmaid into wearing. I smoothed the strapless periwinkle number I'd found at the same thrift store and we were off.

 

Harlan had definitely sold a lot of ecstasy. There was way more dancing going on at Shelly's than usual. Normally, people filled the couches along the wall or stood around talking in the space that Shelly cleared in the center of the room. That night the basement had morphed into a minirave. Colored lights spilled across the shiny black floor and the flashing strobe made it look like everyone moved in slow motion. Costumed kids danced like charmed snakes to the throbbing techno that Harlan spun. He had quite the setup on the card table in front of the big-screen TV. The simple stereo system had evolved into a DJ booth complete with turntables. He'd financed it by selling acid, X, and other pharmaceuticals-real stuff to his friends and fake versions to the jocks who'd become Deadheads over the summer.

Liam and Christian, who'd been too cool to dress up in costumes and hated electronic music, led Maya and me to our usual spot, the corner booth on the side of the basement opposite the dance floor. This was fine with me for about twenty min
utes. Then the X kicked in and I had an overwhelming need to dance.

My most likely partner, Maya, had disappeared with Liam to search for Cass, so I jumped up and extended my hand to Christian. “Dance with me!”

He grinned, but stubbornly slouched against the booth. “I don't dance to techno.”

“Me neither, but tonight we should.”

I led the way to the dance floor, Christian trailing me. I was shocked at how liquidy my limbs felt, how naturally I moved to the kind of music I usually hated.

Christian only swayed slightly, holding my hand and spinning me so that the tulle skirt of my costume ballooned outward. Entranced, he murmured, “I think I'm starting to like this music because it makes you even more beautiful.”

“I like it, too.” I let go of his hand and danced in front of him. People whirled around nearby, occasionally colliding with us and setting off a tingly ecstasy wave that made me giggle.

Christian laughed, too. His fingertips fluttered against my hipbones, guiding me closer to say, “You're the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that? Not just outside, but inside. I can see your kindness pouring out of you.” He cupped my face in his palms. “I'm falling so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” I couldn't say anything more. His hands sent a charge through my skin like a defibrillator, leaving me pleasantly warm and woozy.

“Yeah.”

And then we were kissing. We kissed all the way upstairs to Shelly's room, where we collapsed onto her bed. The comforter felt fluffy as a cloud. The room glowed pale purple. It was like heaven. Kissing Christian was heaven.

I remembered my dress being slightly too big in the chest, so I pulled away, giggling, “Can you see my boobs?”

Christian raised his eyebrows and asked, “I don't know,
can I?”
His hand poised at the zipper on the side.

I would have slept with him. Then and there. At the very least, I could have said I did it for the first time on ecstasy. But then Maya burst into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but you guys have got to help me. Cass is freaking out.”

“Jesus Christ!” Christian exclaimed, completely caught off guard by Maya's entrance. He sucked in air, centering himself. “No problem, we can help.”

He picked up his T-shirt, which I didn't remember removing, but seeing the scratches and glittery lip gloss all over his chest, I assumed it was my doing. Fortunately, I'd managed to keep my ratty blue cardigan on over my costume. As usual, it hid the cuts and scars on my left arm—something I wouldn't have wanted to explain while rolling.

I held out my hand for Maya to help me up. “What should we do? Where is she?”

“The bathroom.” Maya tugged me toward the end of the hall, where Liam paced outside the bathroom door.

Shelly's upstairs bathroom was definitely the worst possible place for an acid trip. Everything was pink from the mauve rug to the dusty rose tile; even the bathtub and sink were pale pink porcelain. Cass stood in front of the mirror, studying it so closely her nose nearly touched the glass. Her multicolored dreads stuck up every which way, like a crazed Medusa.

Maya stopped at the door to whisper her plan. “Kara should come with me. Christian and Liam, you guys check the bedrooms for Quentin, she keeps saying—”

“He died in his sleep!” Cass screamed.

Given a mission, my brother leapt into action, and Christian dutifully followed. Maya stepped into the bathroom, but I hovered in the doorway.

Cass stared into the mirror wearing the vacant expression of
a mental patient. It was extremely unsettling. Maya lightly put her hand on Cass's shoulder, asking, “Cassie, how much acid did you take?”

Like a catatonic, Cass didn't blink, didn't speak. She tapped the mirror and recoiled as if shocked. Catching the reflection of me behind her, she turned. “You're a princess. I was supposed to dress up, too. Did I?”

She wore jeans and a baggy T-shirt instead of the hideous orange dress she'd purchased for her costume. I shook my head and Maya repeated, “Cassie, how much acid?”

Cass rubbed the tulle fabric of my dress between her fingers. “What? Oh. It wasn't kicking in after the first two hits so I took the rest of the ten-strip.”

“All ten hits? The stuff that's been going around lately is triple-dipped!” Maya's eyes flooded with anxiety.

I gave Maya's hand a reassuring squeeze and stepped up. “Cass, do you want to go lie down in Shelly's room? The bed is like a cloud.”

“I like clouds,” Cass mused, but then she peeked back at the mirror. She rose on her toes and spun like a ballerina to face it. After communing with her makeup-smeared reflection for a moment, she slammed her palms against the vanity and shrieked, “No! This is the only place that's safe. People die in the bedroom. Quentin died, and Wes, he's dead, too!”

“Wes isn't dead, he's in California. And Quentin isn't either. Liam and Christian are going to find him,” I told her calmly. The ecstasy prevented me from panicking. I'd never felt such inner peace. I just needed to transfer it to Cass somehow. I put my hand on her back, focusing my good vibes. My skin started to tingle, so I thought it was working, but Cass shook her head.

“Demons got him. I saw it. They took Wes first. Now Quentin. And they're turning me into a lunatic. Look at that lunatic in there!” She poked her mirror image's cheek, then gasped,
clutching her own. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, tears streaking her skin with more mascara. “I'm so fucked-up. I'm going crazy like my mother! And my brother is gone, gone, gone.” She clutched at her dreads and pulled them across her face like a curtain.

I withdrew my hand from her because her fright was seeping into me and it made my bones ache. I glanced to Maya for help. Maya's fearless personality usually masked her tiny size, but overcome with worry, she shrunk into her ridiculous dress, fighting tears that threatened to douse her face with red eyeliner.

“Gone! Gone!” Cass screeched, convulsing like she was possessed. She flung herself into the small space between the toilet and the sink, still muttering about demons and death.

Maya started sobbing. Surrounded by all that hysteria, I might have lost it, too, but thankfully Liam returned.

He hung on to the frame of the door, afraid to enter, reporting, “Quentin's in the master bedroom. He's on something, but he's fine. I woke him up, but I couldn't get him out of bed.”

“Okay.” Maya took deep breaths, pressing Liam's hand in hers. “Thank you, now we just need to bring her to him.” Liam and I both looked at Maya skeptically, but she blotted her face on the chartreuse skirt of her dress and knelt on the floor in front of her cousin. “Cass,” she said like she'd never lost her cool, like she didn't look like an extra from
Carrie.
“Quentin's in the bedroom next door. Let's go see him.”

Cass had been quietly rocking herself, but hearing her cousin's words, she exploded, “No!” Her arms and legs shot straight out in front of her to prevent Maya from getting closer. “It's a trick! This is the only safe place. The bedrooms are evil! That's where the demon took Quentin from me.”

“Think acid instead of ecstasy,” Maya mumbled to herself. She took hold of Cass's stiff hands and whipped out some drug logic. “Cassie, the mirror is what's evil. It makes you see bad things.”

Cass's defensive posture softened. “You could be right about that.”

“Of course I'm right,” Maya encouraged. “The mirror is a trick. This whole room is an evil pink vortex. But the rest of the house is safe. Especially Shelly's dad's room, where Quentin is. Should we go see Quentin?”

Doubt draining from her eyes, Cass nodded emphatically. Maya and I helped her up and took her to the bedroom where Quentin sat in the center of a king-size bed, stretching his arms overhead like he'd just woken from a nap.

“Angel Quentin,” Cass murmured, releasing me and Maya and rushing toward him. “It was horrible without you.”

“Where'd you go?” he asked, drawing her close.

“I don't know, but I was very lost.”

He lay back down, pulling her with him. “I thought we were talking. Then Liam woke me up…” he mumbled, sounding spa-cier than usual. Unlike Cass's eyes, which were all pupil, Quentin's blue irises had only a tiny speck of black in the center. His eyelids lowered over them like remote-controlled garage doors.

“I think he's on heroin,” I whispered to Maya.

“Really?” She frowned. “That
is
a demon.” She approached the bed, asking softly, “Cassie, are you okay?” and adding pointedly, “Quentin, are you?”

Cass's response was muffled, her face buried in the tangle of Quentin's braids and her own hair. “He's sleeping again.” She flung her arm into the air, summoning us, “Come sleep, too.”

We piled into the bed. I draped my arm across Maya to reach Cass, who held both of our hands. A pot or alcohol buzz might have been killed by the high emotions in the bathroom, but lying in the dark room, warmed by Maya's body, my sense of euphoria returned.