by Denise Vega
“My bad,” I mumbled, brushing my shirt off. Great. Now I smelled like beer. I took a breath, the anger I’d had at Reede slipping away, leaving me feeling weak and alone. Did I look as clueless as I felt? Were people staring at me, knowing I was in middle school, that I’d never been to a party like this?
I skimmed faces, hoping to find Jeff, but they were all people I didn’t recognize.
Until I looked to my right.
Blake Thornton stood across the room, his arm around a girl. It was a different girl from the one he had been with at the basketball game. I tried to duck behind someone but he had already seen me. His face registered surprise as he checked me out, then he smiled slightly, turned, and kissed the girl. And kept kissing her.
I slipped away, shrinking against the end of the wall separating the living room and dining room. Let him come up for air and see me not watching his stupid make-out session. Who was the immature one in this picture? I adjusted my skirt and crossed my arms over my chest, continuing my scan for Jeff.
“You go to Washington?” An unfamiliar voice shouted in my ear over the music, the stink of beer wrinkling my nose. I could feel his chest against the back of my shoulder and I stepped forward, putting some space between us before I turned around.
The guy was about four inches taller than me, his muscles bulging under a tight T-shirt. His brown hair was gelled, his face rugged with a few days’ worth of stubble.
“Uh, no,” I said, sidestepping to a folding chair. If I had to, I could jump over it and throw it back at him. “I go to a private school.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “One of those all-girls schools?” he asked, moving toward me. “You must be ready for a little action.” He took another step and I gripped the top of the chair, ready to heave it and make a break for it. He walked toward me, his beer sloshing in his hand.
“So, what’s your name?” He was just a few feet away. I could see a scar on his nose and a tiny diamond stud in his left ear.
I lifted the chair a few inches off the ground—
“No way. Erin?”
I whipped around and found myself looking into Bus Boy’s friendly blue eyes. I was so relieved to see a familiar face I nearly threw my arms around him.
“Hey!” I moved so he was between me and Mr. Action. Mr. Action looked at me, then at Bus Boy. Shaking his head, he turned and got sucked into the crowd. I heaved a sigh of relief. “Wow. Thanks, Bus Boy.”
“Um, do you think you could call me Jon?”
I smiled, still giddy with relief at having someone I knew, someone I trusted, standing right next to me, even if he had dumped my best friend. I resisted the urge to tie our arms together with a shoelace or something. “Sorry. Old habit.” I squeezed his arm, needing contact. “You really saved me from that guy. Thanks.”
“No worries.” He looked past me. “Is Jilly here?”
I shook my head. “She’s—” I was about to tell him she was just hanging out at home. What kind of friend was I? “She had other plans,” I said, shrugging.
Bus Boy’s face sagged. “Right. Okay. Well, can I get you something to drink?” He held up a Coke can. “Or are you not allowed to talk to me because Jilly and I broke up?”
I couldn’t just let that slip by. “You mean because you broke up with Jilly.”
Bus Boy smiled. “If you want to get technical. But she’s obviously moved on so it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Oh, geez. I was really bad at this stuff. Had I blown it by letting him think she was out with another guy? But she didn’t want to get back together with Bus Boy. She’d told me that.
“Is that just Coke?” I asked, changing the subject.
Bus Boy laughed. “Yeah. I don’t drink.”
“I’d love a Coke,” I said. “I’ll come with you.” Being seen with a guy was probably okay. In fact, maybe it would improve my cool factor. Bus Boy was definitely cute. I would probably have him on my Hot-o-Meter if he wasn’t Jilly’s ex.
Just as I popped the top on my Coke, Reede stumbled by, wearing some guy around her shoulders. I thought I recognized him as one of the guys she was with at the Washington High basketball game. Her smile froze when she saw me, her eyes glassy and a bit unfocused. She’d been drinking.
“Reede,” I said.
“Who’s your friend?” the boy-collar asked her, pointing at me.
“Just someone from school,” Reede said, avoiding my gaze.
“We sure miss Harper,” Boy Collar said to me, squeezing her in a bear hug. “You’d still be with us, baby, if you hadn’t—”
Reede turned and kissed him full on the mouth, shutting him up before pulling him backward through the crowd. I scowled. Just someone from school? Is that how she saw me? Wasn’t I good enough for her other friends? And where did he miss her from? That didn’t make any sense.
“I can’t believe her,” I murmured, turning back to Bus Boy. But before I could say anything else, my heart triple-flipped.
CHAPTER 41
OPERATION ERIN P. MASSEY
JEFF MASSEY SAT ON THE arm of a couch, talking to a girl next to him. Another girl was leaning over the back, her chin on his shoulder, like a parrot perched on a thick branch. A couple of guys sat around a coffee table in front of Jeff, trying to bounce a quarter into a glass.
What should I do? I couldn’t just walk over there. He had girls all over him. But this was what I’d come for, right?
I glanced past Jeff. The back wall was a row of windows, with a sliding glass door leading out to a patio. I could see people standing underneath gas heaters outside. Perfect. I could act like I was heading out there and had to pass the couch on my way and Jeff Massey, hunk of the universe, just happened to be sitting right there.
“I think I’m going to see what’s out back,” I said.
“Besides the keg?” Bus Boy asked.
I smiled. “You never know.”
He glanced at Jeff. “Want some company?”
Did I? I didn’t want Jeff to think I was with Bus Boy. But if things didn’t go well, it would be nice to have Bus Boy right there. Before I could make up my mind, Jeff looked up.
His eyes roamed up and down my body before his face broke into a grin. “Erin! Wow.” He motioned me over. When I got closer, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. I could smell his beer breath but it didn’t bother me; he was still the most incredibly gorgeous guy I’d ever seen.
Parrot-Head Girl stood up and sat on the back of the couch, glaring at me.
Jeff wrapped his arm around my waist. “She’s thirteen going on thirty,” he said to Parrot-Head.
Did he have to mention my age? But at least he thought I acted older. Besides, I was sitting on his lap and she wasn’t. I tugged my skirt down as one of the guys on the floor peered up at me.
“I’ll be fourteen next month,” I said, immediately regretting how lame it sounded.
“She’s adorable.” Parrot-Head Girl spoke in a way that said I was anything but. She tried to pat my head but I ducked and she missed.
“Want some?” Jeff held his beer out to me.
I looked at the amber bottle. I hated the taste of beer, but I didn’t want to look like a middle school infant in front of all these people. Besides, Jeff’s lips had been on the top of that bottle. If I put my lips there, it would almost be like we had kissed.
“Is it cold?” I asked.
Jeff grinned. “Ice.”
I took the bottle from him, smiling.
“Erin.” Bus Boy shook his head at me.
I ignored him, putting the bottle to my lips. I tilted it back, took a big swig—
—then gagged and sprayed a mouthful of beer all over Jeff.
“Crap!” He shoved me off his lap, sending me sprawling against the guy on the floor who’d been playing with the quarters. The guy grabbed the coffee table, tipping it over on top of both of us. The beer bottle flew out of my hand and smashed against the wall, showering everyone nearby.
“Aaaa!” Peopl
e screamed and wiped themselves off.
I struggled to get free but I was stuck under Mr. Quarters and the table. I pushed hair out of my eyes and looked up at Jeff. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
Jeff just scowled and kept wiping his shirt.
Someone pinched my thigh and I slapped the hand away.
Then people started giggling and pointing at me. I struggled to get free just as a pair of sleek black boots stepped in front of my nose.
“My, my, what have we here?”
I looked up into the face of Amanda Worthington, her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched over her blue eyes.
“Erin Swift making a fool of herself? How unusual.” She shook her head, then stared at me. “No froggie undies for you, eh?”
I looked down and froze in horror. Jilly’s jean skirt was bunched up around my waist, the pink hearts on my black underwear like little neon lights flashing: Look here! Look here!
I struggled to pull the skirt down, squirming to break free of the guy and the table. Where was Bus Boy?
“Swift?” Parrot-Head asked. “As in Chris Swift?”
“Oh my God!” another girl cried. “Is that the girl who did that blog thing last year?” She turned to Parrot-Head, cracking up. “How many pairs of froggie underwear ended up in Chris’s locker after that stuff went around?” The BN strikes again. Chris was going to kill me.
“Oh my God!” a third girl shouted. Was there an echo in here? “She’s that girl?” She smacked her hands against the couch, throwing her head back in laughter. She started talking to Jeff and I knew he was getting an earful about the YOHE and my personal, private, no-one-will-see-but-me blog.
He wrinkled his nose, then laughed. Hard. He looked back at me, shaking his head. He started to say something but then stopped as Parrot-Head said something else to him. He cracked up again and I wanted to melt through the floor. Jeff Massey—Man of My Dreams, Sharer of Musical Taste, Fellow Criminal, Flirt Extraordinaire—was laughing…
… at me.
Jilly hadn’t prepared me for this. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back prickly tears. I had to get out of there. Mustering the last of my strength, I pushed into the back of the guy on top of me. He grunted and rolled, setting me free. I stood up a bit wobbly, adjusting my skirt once more. A few guys whistled but I ignored them.
I felt a hand on my arm and was about to dig into it with my finger-nails when I recognized the voice.
“Sorry,” Bus Boy said in my ear. “Some girl pulled me away to help her with—” He stopped talking and looked at me, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head.
Bus Boy grabbed my hand and I clutched his arm with the other, stumbling after him as my vision blurred with tears. He pulled me through the throngs until we were safe in the living room, far from the scene of my latest humiliation. I flopped down in the first empty chair and wrapped my arms around my knees, hiding my face.
“They’re jerks,” Bus Boy said, sitting on the arm of the chair. “Don’t waste your time worrying about it.”
I took a breath, sniffled, and looked up at him. “Thanks for not abandoning me.”
“You’re welcome.” Putting his hand on my shoulder, he spoke gently. “I need to go find the guys I came with, but I’ll be right back.” I must have looked as panicked as I felt because he squeezed my shoulder. “I won’t be gone long. I promise. Do you want me to call anyone?” He held up his cell.
“I’ve got a phone,” I said, holding up Jilly’s cell. I leaned back against the cushions. It felt good to sit here, away from just about everyone. I looked around at all the people in the next room—talking, dancing, drinking, making out and probably other things I didn’t want to think about. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t want to be here.
I glanced down at the floor, spotting a purple Tootsie Pop wrapper all wadded up.
Mr. F. I’d forgotten to call Mr. F.
I checked Jilly’s phone. Ten-thirty. It was too late to call.
I blinked back tears. I should have gone to visit him. I should never have come to this stupid party. I wanted to go home. Who could I call at ten-thirty? Or text?
Text. That was it. I couldn’t text Jilly because I had her phone. So who?
Taking a deep breath, I flipped open the phone.
I know u h8 me, I typed. But I need help. Pls call-E.
I flipped through the phone book until I found Mark’s cell number, then pressed Send.
After I got my backpack from behind the sofa, I returned to the chair, bouncing my legs up and down as I stared at Jilly’s cell, willing it to ring. What if Mark’s phone was off? Or maybe he was ignoring me. Why would he care? He totally hated me. He probably knew he was right and was having a good laugh about it. Look, he was saying to anyone who would listen. I told her not to come crying to me when she got hurt and here she is doing it.
I looked at the display and let out my breath. I was just about to call Bus Boy and beg a ride when the phone rang.
“Thank you,” I whispered into the phone. It was so good to hear Mark’s voice, I nearly burst into tears. He listened while I explained where I was. I didn’t tell him about the NOHE (Night of Humiliating Events)—I was sure he’d hear about it soon enough through the wireless, textable grapevine. “I just want to go home,” I said, my voice ragged with near-tears. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll figure something out,” he said. “Just stay where you are. I’ll call you back.”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and lay on the arm of the chair, covering my face with one arm. I promised myself I would never do anything like this again if I could just go home. I kept peeking at the phone under my elbow, making sure the ringer was on. Mark wasn’t calling back. Twenty minutes went by. Then thirty. Mark had no plan. He had abandoned me too.
I tried to call Bus Boy but he didn’t pick up. I could beg a ride off a stranger but what if they were too drunk to drive and I couldn’t tell? And how would I tell them how to get to my house? I hadn’t paid attention on the bus. I wasn’t sure I could give directions.
Tears welled up again and I dropped my head in my hands, sobbing.
“Erin?”
My eyes flew open. My brother stood looking down at me, eyes dark. I wiped my own eyes, streaks of black mascara and eyeshadow smearing my fingers. Bethany sat down next to me and put her arm around me. “You okay?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Mark called me,” Chris said.
“Don’t be mad at him,” Bethany said. “He didn’t know what to do so he called Chris. He figured that was better than telling your parents or his. He didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
I nodded, wiping my face again before picking up my backpack.
“Did you come with anyone?” Bethany asked.
“Let me guess,” Chris said, “That chick who smokes got you here.”
“I just want to go home,” I said.
Chris’s cell rang as we headed outside. He looked down at the display. “It’s Mom and Dad.”
“Did you tell them where I was?” My eyes burned into him.
He shook his head.
“Don’t answer it,” I said. “Just take me to Jilly’s.”
Chris sighed. “It might be about something else.” He flipped open his phone. “Hello?”
I could hear my mom’s voice, high and loud, her words tumbling over each other so I couldn’t make them out.
“Yeah,” Chris said, looking at me. “I’ve got her.”
I dropped my head.
My life was over.
CHAPTER 42
DEAD GIRL WALKING
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR mind?” My mom’s whole body shook as she stood in front of me in our living room.
“I’m sorry,” I said for the zillionth time. It didn’t seem to make any difference.
“Sorry isn’t enough,” my dad said, pacing nearby. “What you did was beyond irresponsible, it was danger
ous.” He leaned over and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? On a bus across town at night? Not to mention that party. My God.” He held my shoulders before a look of disgust came over him.
“You’ve been drinking!”
“No!” I tugged at my shirt. “I wasn’t drinking. Honest. Someone spilled beer on me.”
My mom grimaced.
“Reede abandoned me once we got to the party,” I said. “I didn’t know how we got there so I didn’t know how to get back. I wanted to come home.”
“Don’t put this off on Reede,” my dad said. “You made the decision to go with her. You could’ve called us if you wanted to come home.”
“And you lied to us,” my mom said, her eyes blazing. “Right to my face you told me you were spending the night at Jilly’s. And you changed our visit with Mr. Foslowski so you wouldn’t miss this party!” She shook her head.
Something inside me snapped. “I wouldn’t have to lie if you didn’t treat me like a baby!” I said. “I’ve never done anything before to show you you couldn’t trust me but you still kept saying no to everything I wanted to do. You never let me do anything!”
“Don’t you dare blame this on us,” my mom said, eyes blazing. “What you did was wrong. Totally and completely wrong.” She stopped pacing and looked right at me, dropping her voice so I could barely hear it. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
She turned on her heel and strode out of the room and up the stairs.
The room was quiet except for the refrigerator humming in the kitchen and the rush of hot air from the heater vents beneath the table against the wall. The silence was worse than the yelling. Way worse.
My dad stood looking at me for a moment, then turned his back. “Go to bed. We’ll talk about consequences in the morning.”
I stood by myself in the living room for a few minutes, my body numb, my mind blank. And then my anger took over.
I snuck into the family room and blasted off a nasty e-mail to Reede. Then I picked up the phone. I didn’t care how late it was, I was going to say a few things to her. I carried the phone down to the basement closet, which used to be my Defcon 4 place to go when things got a little bad and I needed to get away. My fingers shook as I punched in her number and I rehearsed what I would say if one of her parents answered; but all I got was some scratchy answering machine. When I heard the beep, I just let it all out.