Lessons from a Dead Girl (16 page)

The hard floor makes my head ache more than it did before, but I don’t get up. I don’t move. I feel all the ugliness and shame I’ve bottled up pour over me and cover me like a blanket.

Leah used me. She picked me because somehow she knew I would keep her secrets. Somehow she knew I would do whatever she wanted. She knew I wouldn’t stop her. Somehow she knew… . She knew part of me would like it.

“Laine? Is that you?”

Web’s warm hand presses against my shoulder and shakes me. I don’t move. I don’t want him to see me.

“Lainey? Jesus, are you OK?”

I cover my face with my hands.

“What’s going on?” Jess comes around the other side and pulls my hands away.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

I’m crying again. I sit up and look at them. Their innocent faces. How can I tell them the truth?

I wipe my face with my shirt. “Just drank too much,” I say, trying to smile.

Web makes a face like he doesn’t believe me. “Why are you crying?”

I shrug. “I have no idea!” I force a laugh. “Guess I just got kind of emotional about our last party.”

Jess sits down next to me. “I saw Leah come in the back door, Lainey. Was she hassling you again?”

My hands are shaking. I pull my knees back to my chest and hug them to keep myself still. “Nah,” I say, careful not to meet their eyes.

“Web, I peed in your mother’s flowers,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“Cool.” He smiles that way he does, then puts his hand on my knee. “You sure you’re OK?”

Tell him the truth,
I think.
Just tell him.
I open my mouth. I don’t know where I’ll start, but if I can just say something, anything —

There’s a shriek from inside the house and then a bunch of cheers.

“Shit, this is a crazy party,” Web says, forgetting his question.

“Good thing it’s the last one.” Jess leans her head against mine.

“Let’s go back in,” Web says. “It’s too cold out here.” He holds his hands out to us and pulls us up.

“I hope you saved your bed for us, ’cause I need to pass out,” Jess says.

Web takes his key chain out of his pocket and jingles it. “Kept it locked up just for you, my friends.”

We each take his arm and let him lead us back toward the house. I feel the gazebo and the secrets it holds getting smaller behind me. I want to be happy. To finally just let the past slip away into the night. I pause and breathe in the cold, fresh air.

Web tugs my arm. “Come
on,
girlie! The night’s still young!”

I fake a giggle and let him lead me back in.

The light in the living room is painfully bright. A bunch of people, including Lucas, are hanging out on the couch, passing around another joint. I think some of them are Jess’s friends from Maine.

“Who’s next?” asks a girl I don’t know.

“Me,” a voice says from behind us.

I spin around and look for the face that goes with it. She winks at me as if the conversation in the gazebo never took place, then walks past and reaches for the joint. Her eyes are slightly bloodshot, but no one would know it’s because she’s been crying. She takes a long, slow hit without taking her eyes off me. A hulky guy who looks like he’s in his twenties steps up behind her and puts his hand around her waist. She breathes out and passes the joint to him. He makes a big production out of inhaling forever, then gives it to the person on the other end of the couch.

Web and Jess stand on either side of me, watching the joint get smaller as it makes its way along the couch. The whole time I feel Leah watching me, but I don’t acknowledge her. When the joint reaches the far end of the couch again, the girl holds it out to Jess. She takes a quick hit and offers it to me, but I pass.

“I’ll take it,” Leah says. She licks her lips before bringing the joint to her mouth, then takes another long drag. As she breathes out, she makes a kiss with her lips and blows the smoke in my face.

“Come on, Lainey,” she says, holding it out to me. “This is one thing we’ve never done together.”

Her boyfriend half laughs, like he knows.

When she hands me the joint, she tickles the inside of my hand with her middle finger and winks at me. I pull my hand away fast.

I try to take a quick hit, but as soon as I bring the tip to my mouth, I feel her spit on my lips. I pass it to Web.

“Remember what good friends we used to be, Lainey?” Leah says, stepping closer to me. “We were really good friends. Friends forever. Remember?”

I take a step back. Everyone is looking at us.

Web moves closer to me, protectively. I don’t know how he knows she’s about to pounce.

“Ready to tell the truth yet, Laine?” she whispers, moving in even closer.

The truth. I don’t even understand what the truth is anymore.

Her boyfriend takes her arm and gives it a tug. She flinches slightly, but recovers fast.

“I wish we were still special friends,” she says louder.

I quickly glance over at the group on the couch again. Lucas is staring at me, totally intrigued.

“Leah, please,” I say. “You’re wasted.”

“I am?” she says in mock surprise. Her boyfriend laughs uncomfortably and tugs her arm again.

“What do you want?” Jess asks, moving in close on my other side. She takes my hand protectively.

Leah notices our hands and laughs. “How interesting,” she says. “You like that, Lainey?”

“Shut up,” I say, letting go of Jess’s hand.

“What’s she talking about?” Jess asks. She steps back and takes Web’s hand with the one that held mine.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Oh, come on, Laine. Tell her. If you don’t, I will.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I say. “You know that.”

“Do I? Think about it, Laine. It’s all still true. You
liked
it.”

“No,” I say. “I didn’t understand.”

“I think you did,” she says, stepping closer. “Remember what you said to me earlier? ‘Say it out loud. It will make you feel better.’ Or does she already know your secret? Is she the one you practice with now?”

“What’s she talking about?” Jess asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Laine and I used to be special friends, didn’t we, Laine?”

“Babe, come on,” hulky boyfriend says, taking ahold of her arm. Leah smiles uncomfortably, like his grip is hurting her. I hope maybe that will be enough to stop her, but she seems to be on a maniacal roll.

“Leave me alone,” she says to him. “Laine and I are talking.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. I feel like a child. The corners of my mouth start to press down, the way babies’ do before they start bawling.

“We used to kiss in Laine’s special closet. Remember, Lainey?” she blurts out. She glances at the boyfriend quickly to check his reaction. His mouth drops open. I can’t tell if he’s shocked or turned on.

“No,” I say.

“We did other stuff, too. Remember?”

“Shut up.”

“Till we got caught.”

Someone on the couch kind of laughs.

Web and Jess stand there, not saying anything. The room is totally silent. Web has this look on his face as if I’ve betrayed him. Like he believes her and not me, and that means I’m gay and I never told him. I’m sure Jess is totally freaked out. Maybe she’s remembering our weekend in Maine and how she undressed in front of me. I feel the weight of their disappointment press on my heart.
Please,
I want to say.
Please.
But I don’t even know what to ask for.

“We took turns, remember? First I did something to you, then you had to do it to me.”

“No.”

Tears slide down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them off. Leah reaches forward to touch my face. I slap it away.

She keeps talking, but I don’t listen. I don’t let myself hear her tell Web and Jess and her boyfriend and Lucas and a couch of strangers about all the things we did. As if they are things any two best friends would do. I just stare at her awful, beautiful face and hate her.

Finally, the boyfriend shuts her up.

“We’re leaving.” He wraps his pawlike hand around her arm and pulls her to him. He doesn’t look happy.

Leah smiles at me pitifully. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? It’s good to get it out in the open. You’ve got to embrace your past, Lainey. That’s the only way to get beyond it. You know I’m right. Right, Lainey? The truth will set you free and all that bullshit? I know
I
feel a hell of a lot better. Do you?”

But you didn’t tell the whole truth,
I think.
You didn’t tell all of it.
Only her boyfriend is half dragging her away, and I don’t have time to say the words.

Leah’s heels click on the tile in the hallway. “You’re hurting me!” her voice echoes back to us.

Jess and Web are behind me. I don’t dare turn around. I wait for a second for one of them, either one, to put a hand on my shoulder, to tell me it’s OK. But no one touches me. No one says a word before I take off down the hall after Leah.

Outside, Leah and her boyfriend are arguing by a car. He’s still holding her arm.

Hurt her. She deserves it.

Leah says something I can’t hear, and the guy stomps off, all pissed.

“Leah!” I yell.

She doesn’t turn around.

I run toward her.

“Leah, wait!”

I’m sure she can hear me. But she doesn’t turn around. She gets into a sports car parked a few cars over from my dad’s truck and takes off down Web’s long driveway.

“Fucking bitch!” the boyfriend yells. He heads off down the driveway after her, as if he could actually catch up.

I get into the truck, fumble for my keys, and turn the ignition. I pull out of the driveway, past the boyfriend waiting at the corner, and follow Leah. I’ll follow her all the way home if I have to. I don’t know what I’ll say to her, but I have to confront her. I see the look of hate in her eyes again. Feel it grab hold of my heart.
Why does she hate me so much? Why did she do it? What’s the real reason she chose me?
I have to know.

It’s dark on the road. Bugs fly at the headlights. I know that as I drive, I’m killing them by the hundreds. I can almost feel them hitting the hood of the truck, the windshield. I want to stop. Just stop and not go any farther. But I see Leah’s taillights way ahead, so I speed up to catch her.

Her brake lights go on in the distance, but as I get closer, she takes off again. I beep my horn, which is ridiculous, but I don’t know what else to do.

I press the gas. The speedometer climbs from forty to fifty to sixty. I don’t know the road well, but it’s not a highway and there are some sharp turns. Up ahead there’s a yellow diamond-shaped sign with a black squiggly arrow and a “
REDUCE SPEED TO 25
” warning. Leah’s brake lights go on, and I get close enough to see her license plate. I flash my lights at her and beep the horn again. She speeds up, crossing the double yellow lines.

The lines blur together through my tears. I blink, but it doesn’t help.
Please stop. Please stop.
I only say the words in my head, but they choke me just the same. I don’t want to think about how drunk and stoned she is, driving so fast.
Please stop.

Finally she gets back on the right side, and I find my voice. “Pull over!” I yell to the back of her car. “Pull over before you get yourself killed!”

But as soon as the road straightens out, she goes even faster. My speedometer reaches seventy when I see another yellow sign with a curved black arrow. I wait for Leah’s brake lights to come on, but nothing happens.

“Stop!” I yell at the windshield. “I’m not letting you get away, so just stop!”

But instead of braking, she goes faster. When she reaches the turn, I don’t see her brake lights.

I quickly slam on my own brakes as I reach the turn. The truck’s tires scream. The back end of the truck forces to the right, then the left.

I think I see yellow lights through the trees ahead, but I don’t realize until I stop and the lights are gone that they weren’t mine. They were Leah’s.

Where did she go?

The headlights of the truck light up the road and the trees on the other side of it. Finally I see a set of red taillights. But they aren’t on the road. They’re down the embankment, at the edge of the woods.

I open my door carefully. As soon as I do, the chime goes off, interrupting the silence around me.

Ding ding ding ding …

I step down and feel the hard pavement under my feet. I hold myself up with the door handle. My hand is shaking.

I slowly let go of the handle and cross the road to where I saw the taillights. I step toward the edge of the embankment, afraid to look. Below me, at the tree line, the black sports car is crumpled around a tree in a grotesque sort of hug.

I smell gas.

Everything is quiet except for the
ding ding ding
from the truck in the distance.

I climb carefully down the embankment.

The dew on the grass is cold and wet in my sandals.

The dinging is a whisper, calling me back to the road. But I keep moving toward the car.

The windshield is cracked into a spiderweb where her head hit but didn’t go through.

I move closer.

It’s still quiet. But now the crickets are beginning to join the steady dinging in the distance. And now the frogs.