17 First Kisses

by Allen, Rachael

  “Is your mom here too?”

  “No, I’m here with Amberly.” She gestures to the doorway, where Amberly waves to me. “Listen, I have to go because B and Amanda are waiting for us at the food court.”

  With one last wistful look over their shoulders, they’re gone. I see them again when Mama and I walk past the food court on the way to our car. They’re with Britney and Amanda at a table, laughing, surrounded by colorful shopping bags. They’re all eating salads (prom crash diet, I’m sure), and I’m not there to lecture them on the importance of protein in any weight-loss plan. Amberly says something, and Megan laughs so hard she grabs B’s wrist with one hand and slaps the table with the other.

  I stare at the four of them, Amanda sitting in the chair where I should be sitting. Where I could be sitting if I had never started dating Luke. And I start to wonder if he’s worth it.

  Kiss #15 xoxo

  The Present

  Megan deserves to win prom queen. I totally voted for her even after everything that’s happened. I have to pretend prom queen is the most important thing in the world. If I lose my focus for even a second, I might remember the other prom. I might remember that prom is when little brothers die.

  Seth, the senior-class president, makes a big show of announcing the winners, waving his white envelope like it’s the Academy Awards or something. He’ll announce king first. I hope it isn’t Buck. I still don’t get why the 90 percent of our class who spent four years under his reign of torment would vote for him, but they will. People still voted Megan for homecoming court back in ninth and tenth grade before the debitch-ification process. That’s how I know Buck will win too.

  Seth finally rips open the envelope. “And your new prom king is . . .” He reads the card inside. “Glennnnn Baker.”

  OMG. Glenn! The whole crowd screams for Glenn. I whistle. Buck tries to play it cool, but he is so pissed. Ha!

  Seth hushes the room. “And your new prom queen is . . . the fabulously beautiful . . . the effervescent . . .”

  “Just say it already!” someone yells from the back of the room.

  “Megan McQueen!”

  Megan’s cheers are, if possible, louder than Glenn’s. I clap and yell along with everyone else, but I can’t help frowning when she exchanges hugs with Amberly and Britney and even Amanda Bell, who holds on for a few seconds too long. I know I should hate her, but I kind of wish I were there to celebrate with her. Her winning prom queen means she completed her part of Pact #5. And I guess I did too. It just wasn’t as fun as I expected.

  Megan makes her way to the stage, her slinky floor-length red gown swishing with every step.

  “I’m so glad Glenn won,” I say to Luke as Seth gingerly places a sparkly rhinestone crown atop Megan’s elaborate hairstyle. “It’s unbelievable. Everyone at school finally wised up and didn’t vote for the guy who made their lives hell. And Glenn deserves it so much.”

  Luke watches Megan and Glenn take their places in the center of the dance floor so they can share the requisite first dance. It’s hard to tell whether he’s looking at both of them or just her.

  “So, you haven’t said anything about my dress. What do you think?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s really pretty.” He takes another swig of his rum-spiked Coke—his third, I think—and turns back to the dance floor. “Have you seen Megan’s? That slit up the side is so hot.” His eyes devour her as she twirls under the spotlight, like he’s planning to draw her from memory later. “And her hair looks so cool. How come you didn’t do anything special with yours?”

  “I’m not an updo kind of girl.” My hands smooth my straight hair protectively. “Plus, do you know how much those things cost? I’d rather straighten it myself.” I don’t say, Plus, thanks to you I’m no longer friends with Amberly, who would have done amazing things with my hair for free, but I’m tempted.

  He grunts in reply. Since he doesn’t bother to look away from Megan, I figure he also won’t notice if I leave him standing by himself, so I stalk off toward the ladies’ room. Prom is being held in a ballroom at the Fabulous Fox Theatre, so it’s one of those super-fancy bathrooms with overstuffed couches and real artwork. I scowl at my boring hair in the gilded mirror. Luke’s at prom—with me. That means I won. So why don’t I feel like a winner?

  There’s one thing I think could make me feel better, but I don’t know if she’ll talk to me. I know Megan’s done some unforgivable things over the past few months. And I know finding out about Luke and me at a party in front of everyone must have been awful and humiliating. But I really miss my best friend. And it couldn’t hurt to try.

  When I come back to the ballroom, the first dance has obviously ended, because everyone else is dancing now. Including Luke. With Megan. I bump past dancing couples and trip over dress trains until I’m close enough to jerk Luke away by his elbow.

  “Can we talk? Now.”

  Megan’s eyes get big. “Claire, I didn’t—he just—” I leave her there stuttering and yank Luke out of the ballroom, past the faculty members standing guard over the lobby, to a couch tucked into an alcove by the bathrooms.

  Luke holds his hands in front of him, the universal gesture for I have nothing to hide. “I didn’t do anything. She came up to me out of nowhere and asked me if we could talk about why we broke up. She wanted closure.”

  “Since when does closure involve freak dancing?” “Oh, c’mon. It wasn’t like that. Anyway, the only reason I danced with her is ’cause I couldn’t find you. Why’d you walk off like that?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed. You were so busy going on and on about Megan.”

  “I just said I liked someone’s dress. You can’t expect to have the best dress at prom or for other girls to never be prettier than you. Try not to be so insecure.”

  “Maybe if you’d stop comparing me to her, I wouldn’t be.”

  “I’m not comparing you guys. I’m just stating facts.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, your facts hurt.”

  He sighs like I am the most exhausting, annoying person in the entire world. Then he takes a drink directly from the flask in his pocket, because apparently I’m so annoying he can’t stand to be around me without having some alcohol to take the edge off.

  “Whatever, Claire. Prom is supposed to be fun, but if you want to ruin it by picking a fight with me . . .”

  Me ruin prom? “You’re the one—”

  I stop because I hear noises coming our way. Luke shoves his flask in his pocket fast, but relaxes when a couple of junior girls breeze past our couch, giggling their way toward the bathroom. He pulls it back out and takes a sip. I’ve never seen him have more than a couple beers, but he’s a mean drunk. At least, I sure hope this is the alcohol.

  “Look,” he says. “I’m sorry I said that stuff about Megan. Can we just go back in and have fun now?”

  I really wish it were that easy. “It’s more than that. I think there’s something going on between you two.”

  Luke’s apologetic face disappears. “Are you seriously doing this right now?” He gets up and stomps across the alcove. “I broke up with her to be with you. How can you even say that?

  I follow after him and lower my voice. “You were dancing with her, and I know you guys have been talking again.”

  “No, we haven’t. I don’t know who’s telling you this stuff, but they’re lying.”

  I’d like to believe him, but I saw something like fear flash in his eyes before he answered. He’s the one lying.

  “I saw a text from her in your phone.”

  “What.”

  “I looked through your phone one time when you were getting gas, and there was a text from Megan. I didn’t read it, but—”

  “What the fuck, Claire!” He moves toward me, his hands at his side like veiny claws, his face red with anger and rum. “I can’t believe you went through my phone. It’s the kind of thing Megan was always doing. First her. Now you. I’m so tired of dealing with this bullshit!
”

  And then it happens so fast. His left hand balls up and lashes out toward the wall, almost as if it’s acting of its own accord. His fist passes so close to my cheek the flyaway hairs around my face spiral with the motion of the air. An angry thud echoes behind my ear. Did he really just punch the wall? But now he’s shaking his hand in pain, and sure enough, there’s a fist-sized crater imprinted in the antique velvet wallpaper.

  I back away from him like he’s a wild animal.

  “Claire, wait.” He looks just as shocked as me.

  I shake my head and run back to the ballroom, where other people are having fun at their senior prom. I flop into the first chair I find. My heart pounds against my chest, and I’m breathing like I just ran suicide sprints.

  “Claire, are you okay?”

  Megan hovers over me, looking ridiculously beautiful, even for her. She sparkles from head to toe, the top of her crown to the heels of her stilettos. Of course he wants her back.

  “I’m fine,” I say with my jaw clenched tight.

  “I’m sorry about what happened before. With Luke.”

  “I bet you are.”

  “No, I am. I didn’t mean for it to look that way. He came up and said he wanted closure and could we—”

  “I already talked to Luke. I know you’re the one that wanted the closure.” I make air quotes when I say the word closure.

  Megan’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arch towards her crown. “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, I’m not about to trust someone who has done everything she can to make my life miserable for the past three months.”

  “I know it was wrong of me to keep you closed out for so long. I’m sorry I did it.”

  “It was a lot more than that. The things you guys did . . . you tortured me.”

  Megan frowns. “What—?”

  “No. You know what, I’m going to stop you right there. Some things are too big for sorry.”

  She opens her mouth one more time but then shakes her head and walks away.

  Luke doesn’t show his face for at least half an hour, and by then I’ve calmed down. He shuffles up to me with his head hung low.

  “I’m really sorry. I was a jerk.”

  “Yeah. You were.”

  “But you know I’d never hurt you, right?” His blue eyes are wide and innocent, but I don’t trust them anymore.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  A slow song plays over the speaker system.

  “Do you maybe want to dance with me?”

  I don’t. But I also don’t want to awkwardly dump my boyfriend in front of everyone at prom, so I’ll do what I can until it’s over. “Sure.”

  I take his hand reluctantly and follow him to the dance floor. In spite of what happened, my body molds itself to his, feet between feet, hips against hips, my head tucked under his chin. I used to love how perfectly shaped we are for each other. To anyone watching, we must seem like this happy, totally-in-love couple sharing a romantic moment. But all I can think of is his fist swooshing past my cheek.

  At the end of the song, he tilts my head up and presses his lips against mine. And like the traitors they are, my lips part until we’re full on making out and my skin tingles with warmth and I’m hungry for more. Damn it. I know lots of people are into that whole passionate fight–passionate make-up thing, but I’m not one of them. The highs aren’t worth the lows. Now if only I can convince my body.

  Luke is overly attentive and gentle as a kitten for the rest of the night. He strokes the back of my neck while we take a packed limo to Buck’s house for the after-party. He whispers in my ear how beautiful I am. It only makes what I have to do next that much harder. After the other couples exit the limo, I grab the sleeve of Luke’s tux.

  “Wait.”

  He slides back into the seat next to me. “What is it?”

  Rip it off. Fast. Like a Band-Aid. Picture the wall crater. Let it be your strength.

  “We need to break up.”

  “What?”

  “You make me jealous and insecure. I make you punch walls. We’re obviously not right for each other.”

  “Can’t we talk about this?”

  I scoot across the seat toward the door. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’ll just fight again.”

  I close the door to the limo and walk sadly into the party. Now I have no friends and no boyfriend. What I do have is a house full of people under various degrees of intoxication harboring various degrees of hatred toward me. It’s time to start doing shots.

  In the kitchen I find a shot taker’s paradise—bottles in all shapes and colors supplied by Buck’s older brother, who makes regular appearances at high school parties even though he graduated three years ago. Jimmy stands at the counter mixing drinks for a couple of sophomore girls who have apparently not been alerted to his legendary creeper status.

  “Hey, Claire.” His eyes light up. “What can I get you?”

  I decide getting a drink is worth making a deal with the Grim Creeper. “Shots.”

  “Oh-ho-kay.”

  Jimmy whips up a line of shots, something with vodka and juices, and the four of us (me, Jimmy, the two sophomores) take them and slam the empty glasses on the counter. He immediately makes another batch, and when Sophomore #1 wimps out, I pound hers too. A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I turn.

  “CJ, are you okay?” Sam asks, his brown eyes full of concern.

  “I’m fine. I’m just having some fun.”

  He shifts from foot to foot like he wants to say something else, but before he can, Amanda drags him away for yet another photo op. I hop up on the counter, not caring that my dress gets wet in the process, and prattle away with the sophomores like we’re BFFs. They don’t seem to know they’re supposed to hate me—that I’m a boyfriend stealer and a slut. Or maybe they’re so excited to hang out with seniors they’re not picky. Jimmy slips us a steady supply of fruity drinks while we talk, each one tasting stronger than the last.

  “Be right back—I totally have to pee,” I tell the sophomores. I jump down to the linoleum, barely sticking the landing. “And I totally have to take off these shoes.”

  I leave my heels in the kitchen and zigzag to the bathroom, which—miracle of miracles—is empty. When I open the door again, Jimmy stands in the hallway, waiting.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Totally.”

  I take a step forward, wobble, and decide it would be easier to lean against the wall instead. Jimmy is suddenly close, really close, his breath hot on my cheek. The elk head mounted on the wall above me watches with glassy eyes.

  “You sure are pretty,” he whispers into my ear.

  He kisses me, but I’m too drunk to care. I barely even feel it. My lips have gone numb. I press at them with my fingertips and giggle. There’s a tug at my wrist, an arm around my waist, Jimmy dragging me up the stairs toward the door of a bedroom.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  My eyelids flutter. Megan has stepped in front of Jimmy, blocking the doorway.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. We can go somewhere else.”

  “You’re not going anywhere with her.”

  “She wants to come with me.” A whine creeps into Jimmy’s voice as he backs away from her, pulling me with him.

  “No. She doesn’t.” Megan’s fingers pry his arm from my body. When I start to keel over like a doll that can’t stand on its own, she quickly slides her own arm in place of his. I fall against her birdlike shoulder, and she staggers under my weight, taking tiny shuffling steps to lead me away.

  Jimmy’s face turns red between his goatee patches. “What am I supposed to do now?” He kicks the door. “Bitch.”

  “I don’t care. But it won’t be with her.” Megan fixes him with her frostiest smile. “So you can go find someone else to molest, Creep Show.”

  Jimmy opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but instead he stomps off down the hall. Megan and I half walk, half fall down t
he stairs, and by some magic she manages to get us to the first-floor bathroom in one piece. She leaves me on the floor, where I slump against the bathtub, which is nice and cool against my cheek. When the door opens again, she’s holding a glass of water.

  “Drink the whole thing.” She shoves it into my hands, and I tilt it back. Some of it sloshes down the front of my dress. Megan sits behind me on the side of the tub and combs my hair away from my face with her fingers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “In case you throw up,” she says.

  “Thanks.” Then I remember every awful prank and cold silence for the past four months. “But . . . I mean . . . why did you pull me away from Jimmy?”

  “Um, because he’s the creepiest guy in the universe.” She wraps an elastic around my hair.

  “No, I mean, why are you helping me? I stole your boyfriend, and I just bitched you out at prom. You’re supposed to hate me.”

  Megan kneels in front of me and holds my hands.

  “Because, Pact number two, I couldn’t let you make out with him. And, Pact number one, I don’t hate you.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  Chapter

  16

  I go back to school on Monday wondering if things have really changed with Megan and me or if prom was a fluke. An alcohol-soaked dream. But then, at lunch, Amberly shyly asks me to sit at their table.

  “I missed you,” she says while we wait in line for sandwiches. Everything inside me unknots at hearing her say that. “I missed you, too.”

  “I’m sorry about not talking to you, but you know . . . my dad and everything . . .”

  “It’s okay. I was the home wrecker this time, so you stuck with Megan.”

  She smiles a sheepish smile.

  “You have to know, though, I didn’t do anything with Luke until after they broke up.”

  “I believe you. I think Megan does too. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get everyone to come around sooner.”