Lessons from a Dead Girl (12 page)

“You do now.”

My stomach is a mess the whole day. Fun before we go in. Dancing. Oh, God. I play a few CDs and practice in front of the mirror, but I look like a total dork. It’s hopeless. Maybe I can pretend I don’t feel well when we get there so I can just sit and watch him.

Web picks me up in the Mini his parents gave him for his sixteenth birthday. It smells like him. We drive forty-five minutes to a club near Web’s new school.

We park in a dark corner of the parking lot. Web cuts the motor, then reaches for a paper bag in the backseat.

“Every time a car pulls in, we have to drink,” he says, slipping a new bottle of Kahlúa out of the bag. “SUVs are two drinks.”

Each time we pass the bottle, our fingers touch and a spark shivers through me. I hope he feels the same thing. But if he does, he doesn’t show it.

We keep drinking. It gets harder and harder to force it down. Finally, Web hands me a piece of spearmint gum.

“Begin now,” he says. He watches the clock on his cell phone and makes us chew for exactly seven minutes.

“OK, we’re good to go,” he says when our time is up.

“Why seven minutes?”

“Lucky number. That’s how long it takes to get rid of alcohol breath.”

“Really?”

“Trust me.”

He winks and I melt.

Despite Web’s theory, I try not to breathe when we sway/walk to the door. It’s a good thing it’s dark.

Web pays the bouncer for both of us as if this is a real date.

Inside, the place is packed. It smells like Gap cologne, sweat, and hair spray. I recognize a few people from school, but most of them I don’t know. Web nods to a group of guys I’ve never seen. They’re probably from his new school.

The music is blasting. I’m so buzzed, I barely feel my feet touch the floor as we make our way to the bar. There’s a huge line for drinks, which is dumb since all they serve is Coke and fake mixed drinks. As we stand there, it seems like the wall behind the bartender is moving.

Web says he’s going to run to the bathroom. He hands me a ten and says to stay in line. I wait for a few minutes before I realize I have to go, too. Like, right now.

When I step out of the stall, I find a free sink and splash my face with cold water. Please don’t let me get sick. Not here.

When I check myself in the mirror, I cringe. I look like hell. My cheeks are blotchy, and there’s a brown Kahlúa stain on the front of my shirt. Very attractive. I’m surprised the bouncer even let us in, it’s so obvious I’m drunk.

I splash more cold water on my face, then look up in the mirror again.

“Hi, Lainey.”

My heart drops to my stomach.

She’s standing right behind me.

“Leah. Hi!” I try to sound friendly, but I think I sound more terrified. I don’t know if I’m supposed to turn around and hug her, like normal long-lost friends would. But even if I wanted to, she’s up so close behind me I can’t really move. My hands are trembling.

She smiles from behind me at our reflection in the mirror, and I try to smile back.

She’s taller and seems much older than me. Her hair is longer, too, and her face is more defined. She’s even more beautiful. She really could be a model.

I put my hands on the counter to steady myself, feeling even uglier than before. The way I’ve always felt when I’m with Leah.

“It’s nice to see you, Lainey,” she says. “What’s it been, like, a year?”

She moves to the sink next to me and washes her hands. Her deep-red fingernails match her lips. I try to get a look at her wrists, to see if the rumors were true, but she keeps her hands palm-down somehow, and I can’t get a good look.

When she straightens, she checks me out.

“You’re a little pale, Lainey,” she says in a suspicious way. “What have you been up to?”

I roll my eyes and try to look cool. She knows the answer.

“Excuse us,” some girls say, annoyed that we’re hogging the mirror. Leah steps behind me again and frees up a sink. My heart beats hard against my chest. My head is throbbing.

“You look good, Laine,” she lies.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. She has dark eyeliner on with glitter eye shadow. Her red lips are covered with a shiny gloss. She looks way too old and sophisticated to be at a bar on teen night.

“Uh, thanks,” I say. “You look good, too.”

We both know
good
isn’t the right word to describe either one of us. She is beautiful. And I am not.

She’s standing so close, I feel her breath on the back of my neck. I wore my hair up in an attempt to look more feminine, but with Leah behind me with her perfect curvy body, I feel anything but. Just like old times.

The other girls leave, rolling their eyes at us. Some new ones squish in. I just want to get out of here, but Leah’s blocking my way. I pretend to tuck a wisp of hair back into place as if there is really anything to do in front of the mirror besides loathe my appearance.

“It’s nice to see you out, Laine,” Leah says. She flicks her hair back over her shoulders. “Are you here with friends?”

“Just one. My friend Web.”

She raises her eyebrows, but before she can make a comment, I ask her who she’s with.

“My boyfriend,” she says. She rolls her eyes when she says it. “Speaking of which, I better get going. He freaks out when I’m gone too long.”

I think of my dream and the faceless man driving her away. Her blood on the window. I don’t let myself look at her wrists again.

The sink next to us opens, and she steps in, leaning close to the mirror to put on another layer of shiny red lip gloss.

“OK, well, it was great to see you again,” I lie, stepping away from the sink while I have a chance.

“Hang on,” she says. “I’m coming, too.”

Before we get to the door, she takes my arm to stop me. I try to shrink away from her, to swivel around her, but she leans in close and squeezes my arm harder. I smell her cherry lip gloss mixed with some kind of alcohol.

I turn my head away. Our faces are so close, I swear she could kiss me. As I turn, her wet lips brush against my ear and she whispers into it.

“Remember when we used to mess around, Lainey?”

I push away from her, afraid someone has heard.

“What are you talking about?” I glare at her and rub the gloss off my ear, regretting all the months I’ve felt sorry for her, worried about her. God, she hasn’t changed at all.

“You remember,” she whispers.

“I have to go,” I say.

She follows me out to the dark hallway.

I turn and face her. My head is pounding, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “What do you want?” I almost hiss.

“I know it bothers you, Lainey, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

I glance toward the men’s room. “I need to find Web,” I say.

“Just wait, Laine, OK?” She reaches for my shoulder, but I shrug her hand away.

“I’m sorry, Lainey. I was just messing with you.”

Just messing with me. Just messing around. Just messing up my entire life.

She sighs dramatically as she steps closer to me. “God, Laine, you’re so uptight. You have to get over it. We were just kids. We were just experimenting. Everyone does it.”

Then why do you torment me about it?

I wish I dared to say the words out loud.

Her face softens. “Hey, truce, OK?” She reaches for my shoulder again, but I step back.

“Come on, Lainey. It’s just a joke. Look. I’m glad I ran into you. My mom told me she brought back that stupid doll a while ago. I tried to tell her you wouldn’t want it, but she kept insisting Sam had given it to you, not me. I was going to call you after, but I forgot.”

She fidgets with the strap of her top. “You remember that doll, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, remembering how I threw it into the closet. “I was surprised when your mom showed up with it.”

I don’t know how we’re suddenly having this casual conversation after what just happened. All I want to do is get away from her. But I stay.

Leah rubs her wrists and looks down the hall toward the dance floor, like she’s looking for someone. “Fucking Sam, that prick,” she says.

I peer down the hall, too, wondering who she’s watching out for.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “He let you take the doll that day. If you want it back, you can have it.”

She presses her temples with her fingers and leans against the brick wall next to us. “I didn’t want the fucking doll,” she says. “I didn’t want —”

She stops.

“Fuck it. Never mind.”

“Didn’t want what?” I ask. “What happened with him, anyway?”

She looks away from me and out toward the dance floor again. “Forget it. It’s over now.”

Her eyes look glassy, like she’s trying not to cry.

“God, Leah. What did he do to you?”

Her bottom lip drops. Our eyes meet.

Just tell me,
I think.

“Hey! I thought you were gonna wait in line!” Web comes bouncing over to us.

Leah fake-smiles at him.

“Hey, Leah,” he says, like they’re acquaintances but not friends.

Then I remember. They’ll be at the same school this year.

“I’ll see ya later, Lainey,” she says, quickly grasping my wrists and squeezing. But when I give her a concerned look, she kisses the air at me and transforms from the girl about to cry to the girl about to pounce.

“Have
fun,
” she says sarcastically, nudging her head at Web. Then she saunters off confidently, as if nothing happened.

“What’s her problem?” Web asks as she struts away.

I shrug. I can still feel her hands on my wrists.

“She was in one of my summer classes. I think she was doing our English instructor. He was always checking out her ass.”

“Leah was in summer school?” I can’t believe straight-A student Leah would ever need to take special classes.

“Yeah, but she hardly ever came. I think she and the instructor had their own
private
lessons.” He smirks, and it annoys me. It annoys me that he did it, and it annoys me that I even care. I don’t know exactly what Sam did to Leah. But it doesn’t give her the right to treat me this way. Screw that.

“C’mon. Let’s go dance,” I say. Clearly, I must still be drunk, since I would not in a million years suggest this at any other time. But now I just want to show her. I want to show her I’m with Web now. I have a friend. Maybe a boyfriend.

Web takes my hand, and we shove our way onto the crowded dance floor. It doesn’t really matter that I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s so packed with people, we’re all like one massive body waving back and forth. Web and I put our hands in the air and sway, our stomachs pressed up against each other. I look around for Leah, but I don’t see her.

But just because I can’t see her doesn’t mean she can’t see me.
Look at me,
I think.
Look at me with a boy. I’m over you. I’m not what you think.

I press closer to Web, our pelvises touching. He smiles at me and rocks into my body. I want to kiss him, but I don’t dare. Could we be an
us
? I’m so light-headed, I can barely feel my feet or hear the music or feel the sweat I know is beading on my forehead.

I will him to kiss me, but instead he looks down at me and smiles, as if this is the best fun he’s ever had. As if I am his best friend.

Later, when we’re leaving, Web holds my hand so we don’t get separated in the sweaty crowd. We slowly inch toward the exit sign while people push and bump against us. Then someone grabs my other wrist. I panic, thinking I’ll get separated from Web. I try to pull away, but the person holds tight. I don’t need to look down at my wrist and see the long, graceful fingers, the deep-red nail polish, to know who it is. She manages to squish between two people, pulling my arm as if it’s a tow rope. She motions to Web and smiles.

“Nice try,” she mouths at me. Then she lets go and disappears back into the crowd.

I squeeze Web’s hand harder and let him pull me out of there. But Leah’s
nice try
lingers in my ear, and I can’t stop wondering what she meant. Did she know I was trying too hard to make him like me? Did she know I was trying to show her I was into guys? Or, worse, did she know Web would never be attracted to someone like me?

The first week back at school, Jess tells me that one of Web’s friends is having a huge party Saturday night.

Before the party, I go to Jess’s to get ready. She makes me change my shirt and wear a tank top. She tightens her lips and looks at my chest like she’s disappointed. She sticks out her own and admires it in the mirror.

“Maybe if you stood up straighter,” she says, jutting her chest out ever farther so her boobs almost touch the mirror.

I let my shoulders slump forward again. Whatever. Like I want anyone looking at my chest. Like I would know what to do if they did.

We sneak a few drinks from her parents before we leave, just to loosen up. Jess’s parents are always having big parties, so there’s plenty of alcohol in the house, and her parents never notice when some goes missing.

When we get to the party, I already feel buzzed. There are about six or seven cars in the driveway. We see Web through the huge kitchen window that overlooks the front walk. We have no idea who lives here, but it’s like a mansion compared to our own houses — even Web’s. We pause outside to check out the kitchen scene. Web is doing shots with some guys we don’t recognize.