One Night That Changes Everything

by Lauren Barnholdt

  “Well,” Marissa says. “I guess if you knew how easy it was going to be, you would have done it years ago.”

  “Not really,” I say. Although maybe I would have. I mean, if I’d known, with one hundred percent certainty that Nigel wouldn’t have turned me down, would I have? Tried to hook up with him? Maybe. Although it probably wouldn’t have led anywhere, since Nigel is pretty lame with all his gambling and “I don’t play that” nonsense. But I would have at least had fun.

  Clarice is over at Isabella’s dresser, and she picks up one of her perfume bottles and spritzes it on her wrist.

  “Don’t do that,” I say. “They’re not yours.”

  “Like Isabella cares,” Clarice says, rolling her eyes. “She has about five million of them.” She points to the array of bottles littering the dresser.

  “So what’s the plan?” Marissa asks. Her eyes are darting toward the door, and I can tell she wants to get back to Jeremiah. Jeremiah is kind of like a slippery fish; if you don’t keep a tight hold on him, he can slip right through your hands. At least until he gets horny again. Then he surfaces right back up.

  “Clarice,” I say, standing up. “How can we get my notebook back?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, shrugging.

  I look at her blankly. “Didn’t you say you thought we should steal it back?”

  “Oh my God,” Marissa says. “That is a fabulous idea. You came up with that?” She looks at Clarice like she can’t believe it.

  “Well, yeah,” Clarice says. “But I don’t have a plan to do it or anything. I don’t even know where it is.”

  Jeremiah sticks his head into the room. “Hey,” he says to Marissa. “Where did you disappear to?” He ignores me and Clarice. Wow. Way to be friendly. “Come back out to the living room, I need to show you something.” And then he’s gone.

  Marissa looks at me, pleading. I sigh. She’s no use to me right now anyway. “Go,” I say, waving my hand. “I don’t care.”

  She skips happily out the door.

  “So what’s the plan?” Clarice asks once Marissa’s gone. She looks at herself in the mirror over Isabella’s dresser. She gets a very serious look on her face, and then she asks, “Eliza, do you think I’m ugly?”

  “What?” I ask. I lie back on Isabella’s bed and wonder how this became my life. “No, Clarice, you are not ugly.” I can’t even begin to fathom that thought. Clarice has long blond hair and blue eyes and a very charming personality and guys fall all over themselves trying to hook up with her.

  “Then why did Derrick kick me out of his apartment?”

  “Um, because he’s a guy?” I try. Something tells me getting into the whole “you’re a tease” conversation right now isn’t the best idea.

  “I guess,” Clarice says, abandoning her position at Isabella’s dresser. She moves over to her closet.

  My phone starts beeping, and I pull it out. A text from Kate. “HEY,” she says. “MOM AND DAD TOLD ME THEY’RE OUT OF TOWN, HOW’S IT GOING?”

  “GOOD!” I text back. “AT A SUPER-FUN PARTY WITH CLARICE AND MARISSA.”

  Maybe I should tell my sister what’s going on. Maybe I should call her, let her know what the 318s are doing. Kate would definitely know what to do. Kate knows what to do in ANY situation, like last year when the guys started circulating that list and she started Lanesboro Losers.

  That’s the cool thing about Kate. She’s not afraid to kick some ass when she needs to. And I’m sure she would be here in a second, kicking ass for me. But then I realize that the main problem is still the same. Some of the secrets in that book aren’t just mine. Like how I wish I wasn’t afraid to tell Marissa that Jeremiah is just hooking up with her and probably doesn’t want to be her boyfriend. How I wish that I could tell Clarice that she shouldn’t be such a tease. How I wish that sometimes, every once in a while, I didn’t hate my sister because she’s so perfect. Those secrets cannot come out. And the more people I involve in this, the greater the chances are of that happening. Besides. I don’t want Kate kicking ass for me. That would be selling out.

  There’s a knock on the open door of Isabella’s bedroom, and I look up to see Cooper standing there.

  “Hey,” he says. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m FINE,” I spit. “Stop asking me that! And it’s not like you cared a few minutes ago. When Tyler saw us in the kitchen, you totally acted like his bitch.”

  Cooper looks at Clarice, who’s standing in front of Isabella’s open closet. She has a dress in her hand, and she’s holding it up to herself and posing Paris Hilton—style in front of the mirror. “Could you, uh, give us a minute?” Cooper says to Clarice.

  “No,” I say. “She cannot give us a minute.”

  “I don’t mind,” Clarice says reluctantly. She starts to put the dress back.

  “She’s staying,” I say. “Why should she have to leave just because you decide you want to talk to me? She’s my best friend.”

  “Because,” Cooper says. “It’s private. What I have to tell you is private.” I look at his face, trying to decide if what he wants to talk about has to do with us (in which case he can go shove it, I’m in no mood to hear his dumb excuses and apologies), or if it has to do with the 318s and my notebook, in which case I probably should listen to him.

  Clarice looks at me, and I nod. She puts the dress back in the closet and then scoots out the door.

  “What?” I ask. I stand up from the bed and cross my arms.

  “Look,” he says. “You need to calm down. I’m not the enemy.”

  I stare at him incredulously. I almost can’t talk I’m so mad. “You’re not the enemy? Cooper, you’re the reason I’m in this whole mess.”

  “I know,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Look, Eliza, I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You went out with me on a dare, and you never meant to hurt me?”

  “It wasn’t a dare,” he says.

  “It was an initiation prank! I mean, no, not prank, it was an initiation rite or something, which is pretty much the same thing as a dare.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he says. “I mean, yes it was, but I never looked at it that way. I always thought that—”

  “Oh my God!” I throw my hands up in the air. “You know what the problem is with you, Cooper?”

  “What?” he asks.

  “The problem with YOU is that you don’t take RESPONSIBILITY for anything! You think you can just run around, doing whatever you want to whoever you want, and that it’s going to be fine. That everything is just going to be TAKEN CARE of for you, with no consequences.”

  “No, I don’t,” Cooper says. “And I have had consequences from what happened with me and you.”

  “Yeah?” I say. “Like what?”

  He moves toward me, putting his hands on my arms. I try to pull away, but he holds them until I relax. I can feel the goose bumps starting up from his closeness, and I shiver as he pulls me closer. “I lost you,” he says. “That was my consequence.”

  I lean my head against the hardness of his chest, and for one second, one second, I allow myself to believe him. I let myself believe that this is one of those cheesy teen movies where the guy starts dating the girl for no other reason than a dare, and then she gets a makeover and he decides he really does love her after all. But I haven’t gotten a makeover, and this isn’t a cheesy teen movie. In fact, it’s kind of a nightmare. So I push him away. Hard.

  “Stop,” I say. “If this is one of your dumb tricks, I’m not about it.”

  “It’s not a trick,” Cooper says. “I miss you. If you’d just give me a chance, if we could talk, if you would let me explain—”

  I push past him, heading for the door. I am so out of here. But what he says next stops me. “Eliza,” he calls. “Look, I know where your notebook is.”

  I whirl around. “You do?” I search his face for any signs that he’s lying, but if he is, he’s doing a damn good job of it. Of course, he also co
nvinced me for the whole of our relationship that he really liked me, so obviously I’m not the best at figuring out Cooper’s bullshit.

  “I do,” he says. “It’s at Tyler’s house, in his basement. There’s a whole area down there where we have our meetings.” He walks over to me and leans in close, his breath on my ear, and another shiver goes through my body. “There’s an open window that Tyler uses so that people can get in and out anytime they want without his parents knowing. You can slide through and get the notebook.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I ask.

  “I’m telling the truth,” he says. “And besides, what choice do you have?”

  His lips are close to mine now, so close I could bite them if I want to, not that I do, I would never on purpose bite someone, that’s just—

  My phone beeps with a text from Kate.

  “COOL!” it says. “I THINK I’M GOING TO STOP BY TOMORROW, HAVE A FUN NIGHT, LOVE YOU XXO.”

  Cooper squeezes my arm. “I better get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want them to see me with you.” He looks at me and, for a second, I think I see longing in his eyes. “Be careful,” he says.

  And then he’s gone.

  Chapter Seven

  11:17 p.m.

  “Where are we going?” Clarice asks me a few minutes later as we walk down Newbury Street. “And why did we have to leave the party so quickly?”

  “Because,” I say, speeding up. I look up and down the street for Marissa. When I got back to Isabella’s living room, she and Jeremiah were both gone. What is up with people disappearing tonight? It’s so ridiculous, especially since the person who wants to disappear the most (me) can’t.

  “Slow down!” Clarice exclaims. “I’m wearing heels!” I don’t point out that I’m wearing heels too, and that even though she has way more practice walking in them than I do (seriously—Clarice even has platform sneakers), I’m able to keep up the pace just fine. It’s probably just because of the situation, and all the adrenaline coursing through my body. Kind of like how some mothers are able to just lift cars off their children.

  Still. I slow down.

  “Okay,” I say. “Look.” I pull her aside under an awning to a shop that’s closed. “Cooper says he knows where the notebook is.” Clarice’s jaw drops, and then she jumps up and down and claps her hands. Apparently her feet don’t hurt as much when she’s jumping. Either that or she was being a total drama queen.

  “Where is it?” she asks.

  “He says it’s at Tyler’s house,” I say. “But I don’t know if I believe him.”

  “Right,” Clarice says, narrowing her eyes. “Because he’s a total shitsucker.”

  “Totally,” I agree. “But on the other hand …” I sigh.

  “We don’t have any other kind of plan,” she finishes.

  “Right.” We both stand in silence for a second, thinking about it.

  “It doesn’t really make sense for him to lie,” she says. “I mean, why would he want to get you to Tyler’s house?”

  “So they could tie me up and kill me and/or force me to post the contents of my notebook myself?”

  “No-o-o,” she says. “That wouldn’t happen. They’re jerky high school boys, they’re not killers.”

  “You obviously don’t watch a lot of Dateline,” I say.

  “Honestly, Eliza, I don’t think Cooper would lie to you. I think he still likes you. Like, for real likes you.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I say, glaring at her.

  “Okay,” she says. She looks nervous and takes a step back. “If we’re going, we need to figure out a way to get there, since Marissa has obviously ditched us.” Across the street, two men in button-up shirts and jeans are standing outside a bar, and they tip their heads up in a gesture of “Hey, what’s up?” and whistle at us. I smile back, but Clarice rolls her eyes.

  “As if,” she says to me. “I mean, they’re, like, thirty.” She starts walking and pulls me with her. “Besides, we don’t have time for that.”

  “We need to find Marissa,” I say, letting Clarice lead me down the street, “Because without her, we can’t go anywhere.” We could probably take the T back to Newton, but it’s a long ride, and we’d need a way to get to Tyler’s house from the station. Which means we’re going to need Marissa’s car. Which reminds me. “Do you know where Tyler lives?”

  “No,” Clarice says. “I mean, I know he lives in Newton, but I don’t know exactly where.”

  “Great,” I say. Clarice is on her phone now, trying Marissa.

  “Voice mail,” she says. “She probably went somewhere with Jeremiah.” She wrinkles her nose and then leaves a message. “Hi, Marissa,” she says. “It’s me again, we were just wondering where you are, you know, because you have the CAR and everything, and me and Eliza really have no way to get BACK HOME without you, so if you could give us a call that would be great, k, thanks, bye!” She ends the call. “Honestly, that girl,” she says. “What is so great about Jeremiah Fisher? You know, I used to have gym class with him sophomore year, and I’m not trying to be mean, but he really has this kind of, like, weird body-odor problem, and it’s not even BO exactly, it’s more of this weird musty smell, and I really hope he’s gotten it under control because—”

  A car pulls up next to us then, and the passenger-side window rolls down.

  “Hey!” the driver says.

  And then I notice the car. A brand-new red BMW that I would know anywhere, that I should know anywhere, because I spent, um, more than a few hours making out in the backseat. Cooper. WTF.

  “I thought I told you,” I say, “to stop following me.”

  “Get in, I’ll drive you to Tyler’s,” he says. I look at Clarice. Clarice looks at me.

  “No,” I say. I grab Clarice and start dragging her down the sidewalk.

  “But Elizzaaaa,” she whines. “My feet hurt. And it’s really cold out.”

  “It’s not that cold out,” I say, even though it kind of is and we’re dressed completely inappropriately. “It’s unseasonably warm for November. And besides, I don’t care if we have to walk all the way back to Newton from here, we are NOT getting in his car.”

  “But we can’t walk all the way back to Newton,” she says, obviously missing the point. “Besides, we don’t know the way.”

  “We’ll look the directions up on your phone,” I say. “Or we’ll take the T back to Alewife and wait for Marissa.”

  “I’ve never used my phone as a GPS before. I don’t know if it works.” She looks doubtful. “Plus we don’t know where Tyler lives.”

  “THEN WE’LL STOP AND ASK SOMEONE FOR DIRECTIONS!” I scream.

  “Um, okay,” she says, obviously deciding I’m not in a mood to be messed with. She gets quiet, but we keep walking, and then I realize that Cooper is still following us. He’s driving really slowly against the curb, just about as fast as we’re walking. You’d think more cars would be parked there, or that there’d be more traffic to block him, but no-o-o. He’s totally able to car-stalk us.

  “Go away,” I say, leaning down and looking into the passenger-side window at him.

  “Eliza, get in the car,” he says. “This is crazy. Let me take you to Tyler’s. And hurry up before someone sees us together.”

  “No,” I say, and keep walking.

  “Clarice?” Cooper pleads. “Don’t you want to get in the nice warm car? I’ll let you pick the music.”

  Gasp! That is totally hitting below the belt, since Clarice LOVES to pick the music in the car! And Cooper knows that Clarice loves to pick the music. He better not be trying to get all chummy with Clarice. We hate Cooper.

  “No,” I say. “We hate you.”

  “Eliza,” Clarice whines. “Come on, he’ll drive us back to Newton.”

  “We have a ride back to Newton,” I point out. “Marissa’s taking us. “But my voice is already faltering.

  “Do you see Marissa anywhere?” Clarice asks.

  “No,” I admit.

&nbs
p; “And do you think she’s coming back anytime soon?” Clarice raises her eyebrows at me. Damn. I know she’s right. At last year’s prom Marissa took off for, like, hours and didn’t resurface until almost five in the morning. I still don’t know what she was doing.

  “No,” I say. “But we can’t just leave her.” It’s a last-ditch effort of a losing battle, and Clarice knows it. She looks at me incredulously, like she can’t believe I’ve kept up the charade this long. “Fine,” I say, sighing. I point my finger at her. “But don’t you act nice to him.”

  “I would never,” she says, looking offended at the thought.

  But the second we’re in the car, she leans over the front seat. “Coop,” she says. “You know what I want.”

  Cooper plugs his iPhone into the car charger, opens up his Pandora, then scrolls through until he hits the listing for “Clarice’s Jams,” the station Clarice made for herself when Cooper and I were together. The sound of Fuel comes through the speakers, and Clarice settles happily into the backseat, texting away on her phone, probably with her cousin Jamie.

  “What are we doing?” I demand.

  “You want to go to Tyler’s house, right?” Cooper asks. He starts heading back toward the Mass Pike, navigating down the super-narrow streets of Boston like a pro. “To try to get your notebook?”

  “Yes,” I say. “But how do I know it’s really there? How do I know I can trust you?” I’m starting to sound like a broken record.

  “Because you can,” he says. “Why would I lie?”

  “Why did you lie about any of the things you lied about?” I ask.

  My phone vibrates. One new text. Tyler. “POST PICTURES OF YOURSELF IN A BIKINI ON LANESBORO LOSERS,” it says. Oh, Jesus Christ.

  On Lanesboro Losers, girls can create profiles too, with a photo gallery and everything. Only unlike the guys, girls are totally in control of their own information. I think Kate had intended it to be like, “Look at us, girl power, we’re not afraid to post pictures of ourselves and our friends being happy” but that idea kind of … disintegrated. Girls started posting pictures of themselves very scantily dressed and used it in more of a “Look what you wish you could have” kind of way.