Kiss n Tell
Page 25
The first explanation: Vaughn was evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. If I had harbored any desire for us to make up and be best friends again, it was obliterated. I wanted nothing to do with her. In fact, I wished hell on her and her family. I hoped she’d have to go through what I was going through. I hoped her dad would leave and never speak to her again. I hoped her mom would have to struggle to pay the bills. I hoped her mom got cancer. I hoped Vaughn would have to figure out how to deal with it, with the prospect of being orphaned, sent into foster care. I hoped Xander would cheat on her. And all the while, I hoped she’d miss me.
The second explanation: she was stupid. Disarmingly stupid. But I knew that wasn’t true, and even if it was, she would also have to be pretty evil to be capable of a stunt like this. To be capable of embezzling over $19,000 from my mom’s cancer fund. And for what? A night of debauchery at the Chateau Marmont with the Shrew Crew?
Was she that desperate for their approval?
I dropped to the floor, sobbing, screaming, pounding the carpet with my fists like a maniac. I couldn’t catch my breath. I started to dry heave and crawled, clawing the carpet, to the bathroom. I panted over the toilet, wiping the tears pouring from my eyes. It wasn’t the money that tore me apart, although it was infuriating and scary that I’d now have to use my college fund and would still be nearly $10,000 short. It was the betrayal. I had never felt so picked over, so wounded by any act in my entire life. Not even my dad leaving. I inhaled sharply and heaved, vomiting fiercely into the toilet. If I was in trouble before, this was danger. This called for something drastic.
29.
NO WORDS
Vaughn
“What’s wrong, babe?” Xander asked, reaching across the table in the cafeteria to awkwardly touch my hand. We had had sex, and yet he was uncomfortable touching my hand. When I didn’t respond, he leaned over the table and whispered, “Is it about—what happened Friday night?”
I shuddered, leaned back in my chair, and crossed my arms over my chest. I certainly did not want to think about that. Not with everything else going on. I had to push the V-card situation to the back of the shelf, until the KissnTell money situation was rectified. Stella and Ava barely noticed my abrupt departure from Baron’s bungalow on Sunday morning. The only person I even heard from was Xander, who texted me a few hours later, after I’d taken the bus back to Sherman Oaks and wandered around for a few hours, traumatized, until it was safe to show my face to my parents. He wrote, “R U mad or smtg? Why’d u leave?”
I didn’t know what to do. Just thinking about Anais or Pam fired shooting pains through my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ward off the discomfort.
Xander rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Fine,” he said. “Don’t talk to me. Makes my life easier, anyway.”
Stella pushed her organic mixed greens around, her hand resting daintily across her stomach. She dropped her fork and made a face like she couldn’t possibly eat more. Ava mimicked her, placing her fork down reluctantly, relishing her last bite of balsamic vinaigrette- drenched leaves.
“Ugh, that Diet Coke made me so full,” Stella complained, throwing her napkin over her plate. There was a pause, at which I knew she was looking at me, but I refused to meet her gaze, keeping my eyes planted on Xander’s pizza crust.
Baron’s words haunted me. Had Stella really complained that I’d been mooching off of her? Was that why they were rifling through my stuff, as payback? My only other experience with friendship was with Anais, and we shared everything. We never worried about who paid for what when, or paying each other back or anything like that. We didn’t have much to give, and yet we still had no qualms about giving to each other. Considering the enormous excess of Stella and Ava’s lives, it was unbelievable to me that they would make a fuss over nickels and dimes. But maybe I was looking at it all wrong. Maybe rich people loved money more than anything else in the world. That was probably why they were rich.
“What is your fucking problem today, huh?” Stella squawked, her eyes boring holes in my face.
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I murmured.
Stella crossed her arms over the table and pursed her lips. “Do you seriously have a problem with the fact that I’m sleeping with Baron now?” she snapped. “I mean, please. Can you, like, be more immature? You’re fucking Xander! What does it matter?” She laughed cruelly, looking to Ava for support. Ava obviously obliged, chuckling along with her.
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care who you fuck, Stella,” I said, a little too sharply.
Stella smirked. “Good,” she said lightly, standing up from the table. “Well then could you please remove whatever’s stuck up your ass? It’s ruining my day.”
She lifted her tray and waltzed off with Ava in her wake. Xander shook his head and stood up as well.
“Do me a favor and take her advice,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that Anais didn’t show up at school that day. I felt like I’d rather die than face her after what I’d done. But I also wanted to confess, to apologize and offer to fix it. I stood up and cleared my tray. I decided to head to the library for the last fifteen minutes of lunch to check KissnTell. Sometimes I did that when no one else was around, to see what Anais was posting, to feel included in my old life again. But before I even made it there, my phone buzzed. It was a new email. From Anais Martel, Subject: (no subject). I froze, letting backpacks and shoulder bags brush by me in the busy hall. I couldn’t open it, at least not here, not in front of all these people.
I jogged outside to the grove of orange trees to the left of the soccer field, where teachers sometimes ate their lunches on the benches in the shade. Thankfully, when I got there, every bench was empty. I settled into one, curling my toes under my butt, and opened Anais’s email.
You are dead to me.
That was the first line. “You are dead to me.” My heart started to pound. The tears I had been holding back all day surged to my head like a freaking tsunami. I gasped for air as they poured into my nose and mouth. I had to keep reading. I had to know what I did to her. I had to be punished.
You are dead to me.
You ditched me as a friend. You gave me attitude. You didn’t care when I told you my mom was sick. You didn’t say sorry or do anything. You tried to set up my boyfriend with Stella Beldon. You abandoned KissnTell.
You abandoned me when I needed you most. How was that not enough?? You had to take everything I had and blow it on one stupid night at the Chateau FUCKING Marmont??
I hate you. I can honestly say I hate you for this. You are not my friend. Stay away from me, stay away from my mom, and stay away from KissnTell.
I closed my eyes, clutching my phone to my chest, letting the tears stream down. I tried to figure out how I got here, hiding in some orange trees, crying on a bench, de-virginized, not a friend in the world. At least not a real friend. I thought about writing back, telling her how sorry I was, explaining how I tried to stop it, I tried… But I knew she wouldn’t care. I knew all of this, the entire, fucked up chain of events, was my fault. I was popular, I had achieved everything I wanted, but it felt like I had nothing. It was exactly as Pam had described that night in the car after the laxatives incident back in the fall. Back when I thought I could beat the Shrew Crew at their own game. Instead, I let myself forget all about revenge and my real friends: Anais, Pam, and Austin.
My phone vibrated against my chest and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I wiped the tears from my eyes and took a wary breath as the screen came into focus. I frowned. It was Austin. Probably calling to berate me about what a terrible friend I was. I sighed, letting it ring a few times. Then I realized: Austin might be my only hope to win Anais’s friendship back. I answered the call quickly before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?” I whimpered.
“Vaughn, thank God you answered,” Austin replied, relieved. I held my breath. “Have you heard from Anais?” he asked.
“No, she hasn’t returned my calls,” he said, obviously crushed. “And her mom was supposed to get her surgery today and—”
“That’s why she’s not in school …” I murmured, mostly to myself.
I heard Austin sigh on the other end of the line. “She’s still not talking to you either, I take it,” he resigned sadly. I started to cry again, my breath heavy against the receiver. “Vaughn?” Austin asked. “Are you okay?” I shook my head. I had no words. “Hello?” Austin pressed.
“I’m not okay!” I shouted pitifully. “Anais will never speak to me again and I’m not okay!” I wailed into the phone uncontrollably.
“Holy shit,” Austin murmured. “What happened?”
“I did something … terrible …” I blubbered.
“Vaughn,” Austin said sternly. “You’re scaring me. What did you do?” I shuddered, swallowing hard. “I lost the money,” I croaked.
“What money?” Austin urged.
“All the money in the KissnTell account.” “What?” Austin exclaimed. “How?”
“Baron Caldwell,” I sniffled. “He figured out I was behind it. He threatened me, he stole my Paypal card, he …” I trailed off, sobbing.
“Shit,” Austin murmured.
There was a pause. I sobbed unrelentingly. Time seemed to stop. I was in a black hole and I had no idea how to get home.
“Vaughn,” Austin said, his voice low and grim. “Vaughn, I need to know: did anyone else besides Baron figure out you’re behind the site?”
I gasped for breath, wiping my nose on my blazer. “No,” I said.
“Vaughn, this is important. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. If he told the others, they would’ve said something to me,” I assured him. “Why?”
Austin inhaled. “Because I think I can help,” he said.
I paused, holding my breath. “How?” I asked quietly.
“I have some pictures,” he said. “This is part of why I’ve been trying to reach Anais so badly. I have very valuable pictures, which we could sell to contribute to the cost of Pam’s treatment.”
I sat up straighter, my heart pounding. “What pictures?” I asked. “I can’t say over the phone,” he replied.
I frowned. “Seriously? They’re that good?”
I waited for Austin’s response. It sounded like he was driving, pulling into a space somewhere. If he was for real, this could be my one shot at making up for what I did. My one shot to be Anais’s friend again. Austin took a deep breath. It sizzled into the receiver, tickling my ears.
“They’re that good,” he said finally.
30.
STROKE OF DESPERATION
Anais
I was on the bathroom floor when I realized what I had to do. I had just hit “Send” on the email ending my friendship with Vaughn, ran to the toilet, and puked again. I thought about how people in a jam came up with money in the movies: they pull off a radical scam, resort to crime, or they haul all their valuables, family heirlooms, and electronics to a pawn shop and exchange it for cash. I wasn’t suave enough to pull off some stunt like providing prostitutes to all my rich, horny classmates and take a piece off the top, and I didn’t have the nerve to sell drugs or rob someplace. (After all, I was upchucking with fear and remorse after sending a strongly worded email.) But these days, you didn’t need to rely on sketchy pawnshops in even sketchier parts of town to earn some fast cash. These days, there was eBay and Craigslist. These days, there were more reasons than ever to sell my dad’s Rolex.
But before resorting to that last-ditch option, I picked myself up off the bathroom floor, rinsed my mouth out with Listerine, and racked my brain for something else to sell. Anything that wouldn’t enrage and deeply hurt my cancer patient mother.
She had some jewelry, tasteful diamonds and things given to her by her mother, who died when I was six. She never wore the stuff, but she was sentimental about it, and I knew selling it would be like mourning her mom all over again. There was the TV, which was huge, although I wasn’t sure it would be worth that much. It was an old model we bought before flatscreens became all the rage. We had no furniture worth a damn, no paintings. I started pacing around the house, scanning for items to unload. At the linen closet, it occurred to me the washer and dryer set might be worth something to somebody, though I had no idea how much. There was nothing in my room but my laptop, which, thanks to KissnTell, I absolutely could not live without.
I reached my mom’s room and took a deep breath. It smelled like her: lavender oil and Febreze. Her bed was made but a bit rumpled on top, a fashion magazine straddled near the foot. Her jewelry box, this pretty, etched jade thing with an old-fashioned keyhole, also inherited from my grandma, sat on her dresser. I’d go through it later, when I’d exhausted all other options.
I stepped inside her bathroom. It was kind of a mess, outfitted in the same peach tile that was here when we bought the house. The realtor said it was built in the 1920s and marketed to unmarried secretaries. That was why the bathroom was pink. The sink was covered in jars of makeup, brushes, a hair dryer, facial cleansers and creams; the entire surface littered with objects. I ran my hands over the bristles on a big, round brush. I opened a few jars and sniffed them, hoping to catch another whiff of my mom. I missed her already.
Then my eye caught the familiar navy blue leather box that had been sitting in that very spot since my dad left over sixteen years ago. I picked it up, running my fingertips over the top, the word “ROLEX” imprinted into the leather. Anger spiked in my chest as I thought of him blowing the money he and my mom had been saving when my mom was pregnant with me. Just like Vaughn, I thought. He blew it all on this thing, the only thing left of him.
I knew it had always been there, next to the sink, since before I was born, but seeing it, touching it, made me short of breath. I knew my mom relied on it, on what it stood for, the end of a bad relationship, the beginning of single motherhood, the fact that she didn’t need him to raise a good kid. But I had no idea how she could stomach its presence for all these years.
I opened the box. It looked brand new. The platinum gleamed, a ring of pave diamonds sparkled around its face. To me, it was hideous, ostentatious, tacky, and reckless. Just like my dad. But in that moment, it presented the perfect opportunity: I wanted it gone, and we needed money. I didn’t give a shit what my mom thought. She was wrong, and frankly a stubborn moron for preferring to sit on this thing and potentially die of cancer than swallow her pride, sell it, and potentially not die of cancer.
The doorbell rang. I nearly dropped the Rolex on the hard tile floor. I put it back in its usual spot next to the sink and made my way to the door. I peered through the peephole. It was Raven. I unlatched the dead bolt and opened up, frowning. Raven exhaled upon sight of me.
“Hey,” I said. “What’re you doing here?”
“I came to check on you,” he replied, brushing past me and taking a seat on the couch. “You look like hell. Have you slept at all? Have you eaten?” he asked.
I shrugged, making my way to the couch to join him, and sunk into the corner of the sectional. “Not really,” I said.
“Are you okay?” he pressed.
My face crumbled. I started to cry. Raven tensed, straightening his back. “No,” I whimpered, covering my face.
Raven scooted closer to me and placed an arm around my shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on in there,” he said, tapping my head with a manicured hand.
I wiped my eyes, sniffling. “I lost the money,” I whimpered.
“What money?”
“The money we saved for mom’s surgery,” I said.
Raven slid his arm off my shoulder and crossed it over his chest. “How the hell did you manage that?” he snapped.
I shook my head, too tired to cry anymore. “It’s a long story. Just know it’s gone. Well, except for about 8,000,” I blubbered.
Raven bit his lip. “What about putting it on a credit card?” he said. “Go into a bit of debt for a while?”
I shook my head. “The interest’s nineteen percent. She’ll never be able to pay off that debt, plus the balance on my school tuition, plus radiation therapy,” I explained.
A small, sad smile crept onto Raven’s face. He regarded me, his eyes crinkled. “I didn’t know what an interest rate was at your age.”
“I think I have a plan,” I murmured. “Sort of,” I added meekly. I was feeling pretty guilty. I felt like I was going behind my mom’s back. I knew she’d feel completely betrayed, but I had no other choice. I refused to go into massive debt when an expensive watch sat untouched in my mother’s bathroom for another decade.
“What’s that?” Raven asked.
“My dad’s Rolex,” I whispered. “Did mom ever tell you about that?”
Raven shook his head, frowning. I motioned for him to follow me and lead him into her bathroom. I showed him the watch, told him the story of how my dad bought it with all the money she’d saved for baby stuff, told him how he left her, and she saved the watch, how it’s been there ever since.
“She’ll be so disappointed in me for selling it,” I finished softly. “But what else can I do?” I pleaded, looking into his eyes.
Raven inspected the watch, turning it over in his hands carefully. He placed it back in its box and onto the sink where it came from.
He looked at me. “I think I can help you with this,” he said. My eyes widened. I almost felt relief.
“But if your mother asks,” he added sternly, lifting a finger to me, “I had nothing to do with it.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I won’t tell her,” I assured him.
He nodded, paced to the bed, picked up the magazine and started flicking through it. “You can’t sell it on eBay. eBay’s full of people looking for a bargain. You’ll maybe get five G’s for that watch. Maybe,” he said, looking up at me skeptically.