We shut the door and Dylan pulled me to a halt. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t trust him,” I said, shrugging. “Do we even know who he is?”
Dylan laughed. “You said you knew him.”
“I did, I do, but I get a funny feeling from him,” I said. “Anyway, it’s Halloween, and we have to get back.”
“We’re the cutest damn couple.”
“Exactly,” I said, kissing him again.
We were in the thick of it, the music pumped through the room just as Michael Myers became stabby. It was a mix of drunken haze and images of random people screaming. I truly gave in to the alcohol. The empowerment of not holding back, I felt like I could conquer the world.
Chapter Nine
I woke inside one of Dylan’s hoodies. Through the haze of my vision, I found myself in his bed. We’d somehow made it back to his house. Thinking about what had happened through the night, I pushed my face into a pillow and groaned.
The heavy curtains felt like night. I reached out for Dylan, hoping to wake him. He mumbled and shifted his body away.
“What time is it?” I asked. My breath was vile, like a backed-up sewer plant. “I don’t feel well.”
“Shhhh,” his sleepy voice droned.
It was noon, the bright screen of my phone blinding me. I made out several texts asking where I was, but the effort to reply was too much.
“Take me home.” I nudged Dylan again.
He turned. “Take an Uber.”
I’d narrowly escaped an encounter with Dylan’s dad as I squeezed through the front door to the Uber outside. I’d slept most of the way home. My hair, dry and sticky from hairspray was pulled into a stiff ponytail.
Maddie met me at the front door. I was in Dylan’s hoodie and a pair of leggings.
“You’re lucky mom’s out,” Maddie said. “Gone to the airport.”
“I don’t look that bad.” I lied.
“They’ll only be a few hours. You should shower,” she said, holding the door.
The gunk on my face and the sting in my hair ached. “Thank God!” I sighed, pushing my hands together in prayer.
“How was your night?” she continued as I pushed myself past her. “When will I be invited to parties?”
I chuckled. “Not yet, Maddie, it takes a lot out of you. Focus on school.” I was protective, like anyone would, I didn’t want her around friends like mine, or alcohol, she was still my baby sister.
Showers were the worst place to find yourself in thought. Reflecting on how everything came to be. My freshman year, walking into high school with my two best friends, Brittany, and Delilah. I’d see them around now; they were still close, and I felt horrible for abandoning them for the cheer squad. We were a trio of Bachelorette watching besties.
Maddie waited for me outside the bathroom. I bumped into her, wearing only a towel around my body and one holding up my hair.
“How old’s your friend?” she asked.
I stood abruptly. “Who?”
“The guy we in the mall,” she said. “He was cute.”
“Kaleb?”
“Mom said she knew him.”
“Oh, he’s my age, so, definitely not,” I said. “You shouldn’t even think about boys yet.”
“I’ve had a boyfriend,” she said. “Remember Patrick?”
A smile graced my face. “Patrick? You used to make soup for him?” I asked. “Wasn’t he ill?”
“No!” She scowled.
“Oh, Patrick was the one you used to bring home to do homework with then? I definitely would’ve have said you were in a relationship.”
“I was old enough, Zoey,” she said, “I know what one of those is.”
I nodded in agreement. “Sure, Mads. It was a relationship.” I rushed passed to my bedroom. “Yell to me when mom’s home.”
The shower had made me more human, and my hair less like a nest. Behind me, in the mirror, as I dried myself, I noticed my unfinished canvas, the half-assed brush strokes with no direction. I pulled the hair dryer from the dresser, but before I could do anything, I closed my bedroom door and threw a white sheet over the canvas.
Over 200 people at my high school were seniors, and every senior who had purchased a ticket to the dance was due to be quizzed by the local police department about that night. It had been weeks since it had happened. They’d searched lockers and frisked us. They had a list of people who’d been poisoned by the punch; I was on the list, but I was still due to be questioned. I did run off after Kaleb; it could’ve been me for all anyone knew.
The first period was Biology and I was there early. My stomach bubbled in knots at the thought we would be hauled aside one-by-one like criminals. They’d never mentioned anything like this in the auditorium, but I couldn’t be too certain; I wasn’t completely focused. I could have given Kaleb up right there and then, but instead, I decided to play Nancy Drew. What a mistake that was!
“Have you heard?” Ava asked, slumping beside me.
“It’s all everyone’s talking about,” I said.
Libby sat down at my other side. “Why are they only taking seniors?”
I shrugged. It had crossed my mind; it was strange they only wanted to speak to the seniors, but somewhat made sense, they had a suspect in mind, probably Kaleb, and they needed someone to say so. “Who do you think it was?”
“Char wants us to say it was Heather, Mila, and the bow-legged one,” Ava said, tapping her left temple. “What’s her name?” She glanced behind slightly at Kirsten, the obvious third person.
“Honestly,” I began, “I don’t remember what happened, I had one drink, but it felt like fifty.”
“That’s a good story, Zo,” Libby said. “Can I use that too?”
“No Libby, that’s what happened,” I said.
“Oh.”
Ava laughed. “Well, it boosts your alcohol immune system, Zo.”
I heard people nearby laugh; I wasn’t sure if it was from what we’d said, or from something going on behind me. “If it was anything else, I doubt we would have noticed,” I said.
“It’s usually as freshman initiation,” Ava said. “Some cheap ass fruit liqueur.”
I lowered my voice. “Did you guys already know?”
Ava and Libby shrugged. “I mean, there was talk, but yeah,” Ava said. “The punch is usually spiked anyway, just not with ethanol.”
It was still probably Kaleb. I’d watched him. But the more assured I was it was Kaleb, the more I questioned myself. “Who does it?” I asked. They shrugged again.
Before the lesson began, I was called out to meet with the local PD officers. This time, a man and a woman, Officer Gerrard and Officer Renner. They shook my hand, introducing themselves.
“Miss Jensen,” they said.
They had a temporary office set up in a room with several pipes running through it. The rough regurgitating sound of water pumping through the bowels of the school. They offered me a seat.
The male, Officer Gerrard, smacked his hands together. “So, you were affected,” he said. “I’m sure you want to know who’s responsible. We’ve spoken with a few of your peers, some with information on your whereabouts, the double doors leading to the science labs.”
I grinned out of nervousness. “I went to the bathroom, you know that’s the direction,” I said.
“We do.”
“I don’t know who spiked the punch,” I said.
“Good to know,” Officer Renner said. “So, your friend, Ze—Ka—Te—no, Charlotte,” she said, snapping her fingers as she hit the name. “Your friend Charlotte seems to be very vocal.”
“Is she right?” I asked.
“We’ll ask the questions,” Officer Gerrard reminded me. “So, what do you know?”
I butt my lips together. “I don’t remember anything from that night, Char says a lot, but I find it best not to listen to everything.”
“We understand you were severely affected by this,” Officer Renner said. “So you can un
derstand why it’s important we found out who’s responsible.”
“What would happen to them?”
“Officially, they’d be suspended and could face fines, perhaps end up in a juvenile detention facility. You know breaking into a science lab and stealing concentrated ethanol is a punishable offense.”
I nodded, the knots bulged in my stomach, like ulcers swelling inside bloating me. “Hopefully, someone else has more information.”
They thanked me for my time, shaking my hand and escorting me back to biology. I walked by Char’s English class; she frowned like I’d done something to offend her.
“So?” I found her text on my phone.
“They asked me if I knew anything. I told them I didn’t, they mentioned you accusing people, I didn’t say anything though.” I replied from inside a book.
“You should’ve said it was them!” she replied, followed by several laughter emojis.
Biology was boring, not a surprise, followed by English and a discussion on John Steinbeck’s ‘Of Mice and Men’, before history class, learning about the great depression. It was a miracle we didn’t create the next great depression.
As per personal rules for lunch on a Monday, I’d brought my own. I sat beside Char and the other girls. At this point, most of them had been interviewed by the police officers, and almost everyone but me had mentioned the student body. I didn’t dislike them; they were always nice to me, but they didn’t put themselves out there to be liked.
“You can’t think they did it,” I said.
Char raised her eyebrows. “I don’t care who did it, this is something to pass the time while we’re forced to stay in school, you know, before prom, graduation, and the inevitable school scholarships I’m destined for.”
“You’ll get one of the cheer scholarships,” Ava encouraged. “Which ones have you applied for?”
“Only the ones with a full ride,” she said, looking up and down the table. “So you know what that means, we’d best get practicing new cheers for the competition next month in LA.”
I often forgot about everyone else on the squad. I didn’t need them to occupy space in my mind, not that I was busy or anything, but I had a lot to think about already. I wasn’t in any position to look for scholarships in cheer, but I was for my art, even if I was being pushed to look for both by the guidance counselor.
What do you want to do? I was constantly asked. Chewing on my sandwich, I found myself taking an aggressive bite and mulling over the question. An artist, I would reply to a smirk.
“Hey,” Dylan said, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Can I have a bite?” He kissed my neck.
I hadn’t realized I was scowling until Dylan’s warmth warped a smile on my face. I pushed the sandwich to his mouth to take a bite. “Have you talked to the police yet?”
He laughed. “No, have you?” he chewed twice before swallowing.
“They pulled me out of first period,” I said. “Was so pissed, they asked me questions like I was to blame.”
Dylan kissed me again. “You didn’t do it,” he said. “Don’t worry, babe.”
I wasn’t worried for me. I made eye contact with Kaleb as Ava jumped up to kiss him. She gripped his broad shoulders and muscular arms. “Working out?” she asked.
“Bro!” Dylan smashed fists with Kaleb. “You should try out for the team.”
That was all I needed, everyone getting along with him. My mum, my friends, even my boyfriend were becoming the best of friends with him. He’d changed from the slim frame of a body; there was substance to his bones now.
“Hey, Zo,” he said, pulling my attention. “Heard you spoke to the PD, hope everything is okay.”
I gulped hard. “Yeah, I don’t think they know who did it, but they’re determined to pin it on someone,” I said.
“Personally,” Char began, “we all know who did it, it was those pre-lesbatorian school body bitches.”
Char probably had Kaleb do it, someone did, he wouldn’t have done it all on his own, his brothers could’ve. They were chaperones for the night, they were there, and easily able to sneak off or break into the science labs.
It wasn’t until late Wednesday afternoon during cheer practice on the quad when we realized something wasn’t quite right. Mr. June came out and blew his whistle; two police officers strolled on with sniffer dogs.
“There’s a drugs crisis out there,” Mr. June said. “Those Colombians are not only famous for their coffee but damned if there bringing their crack cocaine into our school.”
Almost as if he was protecting us from a school swarming with death-defying blood-sucking vampires. Of course, they were fictional, and this was all real. Char stood close to the officers asking them what they wanted; she didn’t have any drugs, she’d never taken drugs, and she wasn’t interested in their police officers ruining our chances at a championship.
“So if you’d please like to remove yourself so we can practice, we’d be much obliged,” she said, turning and heading back waving her pom-poms.
“Ready, okay!” Ava shouted. “You’re ruining our day, you’re messing up our chance, go back to your PD, while we get back to our dance!”
“Woo!” we roared in support. Ava rarely showed her smarts, but when she did, she really showed them.
They left as swiftly as they came. We were in our short skirts and cheer tops, of course, we weren’t smuggling any bags of cocaine. But if spiking punch bowls at school dances were an issue, you’d have to think, what else was being hidden.
“Okay team,” Char shouted as we rounded ourselves up. “The competition is in three weeks. I know, it doesn’t seem far away, but that’s around twenty-four days. It’s after Thanksgiving, so we’ll need to curb carb loaded dinners. And then a few nights later we have a basketball game to cheer for, so we cannot slack.”
Mr. June butted in. “But the main goal is fun.”
“And win,” Char added. “Always go for the win. We’re a team.”
“Most importantly, the fun.” Mr. June laughed. “Char is your cheer captain, of course, she wants the win. I’d hope you all want to win.”
We had practice scheduled in for most days after school, and when we didn’t, I was signed up for extra studio time to figure out a concept for my senior pieces. The better the pieces, the higher chance of being showcased in an actual gallery and receiving a scholarship.
I waited in the bleachers for Dylan after practice had finished. He came over, covered in sweat and craned his head toward mine for a kiss, I pulled away and held a hand up. “Didn’t you shower?” I asked.
“I knew you were waiting for me,” he said, stealing a kiss.
Not having a car meant I had to count on friends, and my loving boyfriend to get to and from school. I would count on my mom but she drove Maddie, and if she drove me as well, it meant I would always be late, or she’d drop me off disgustingly early, and I was a fan of neither option.
“Date night on Saturday?” he asked on the drive back to my house. “We both have practice during the day, but in the evening we could go to the drive-in theater.” He pulled up.
“I’d like that,” I said, kissing him.
“Good, I’ve bought tickets,” he said. “I think it’s Carrie.”
“Old one, or Chloe Grace-Moretz one?”
He shrugged. “I think everyone’s going,” he said.
So, it wasn’t date night, it was an outing with friends. “It’ll still be nice,” I said.
I kissed him again. “See you, tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
It was the 1976 CARRIE, with Sissy Spacek. I made sure to look it up; it wasn’t half as scary as the new one. Having spent the past couple of days attempting to sketch something resembling the talent I believed I had, especially after so many years being told my art was good—perhaps it was refrigerator art. Either way, I was ready to relax.
“Mom,” I called from my room. She stood in my doorway as I shimmied into a skirt. “How does this look?”
She walked in behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. “Perfect, as always, sweetie.” I brushed my hand down to straighten the creases. “Is this for the drive-in movie theater they’ve just reopened?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Your dad and I would go there when we were dating,” she said. “In fact, we’d go there with your friend, Kaleb’s parents. We were so close.”
“So you knew his family really well?” I asked, turning to her.
“I guess.”
“What about now?”
“Well, we sometimes bump into the older brothers, their faces are quite familiar, not so sure if they know me, but I always wave out of politeness. They own some club, bar, whatchamacallit, out on the freeway.”
I knew that too well. I smiled. “Mom,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I think Kaleb spiked the punch.”
“Oh?” she said, her eyebrows knit tight together. “I had an update from your school; they don’t know who’s responsible.”
“I haven’t told them,” I blurted. “I don’t want to get him in trouble, he’s new at the school.”
“Zo, honey.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me tight. “You know you should tell the truth, no matter how tough.”
Forever told to tell the truth, well, the truth would set me free. I found myself worrying more about what would happen, and the pressure of Char telling us who pin it on. We all knew she wanted a spot to open up in the student body.
“Zo, Dylan’s here,” Dad shouted from the foot of the stairs.
Dylan was standing in the living room wearing those tight bum jeans and a white striped button-up shirt. I could see the vest top underneath and the sleeves rolled up almost completely. Even though it was November and cooler outside now, it was always t-shirt weather.
“You ready?” he asked, flashing his perfect white smile.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
The choice of food was mine, fast food or traditional restaurant. I shouldn’t have wanted fast food with practice almost six days a week.
“Jack-in-the-Box,” I said. “Craving their fries.”
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