Best Friends Never

by Isabelle Drake

  What could she do with that constant annoyance that made her want to tell the guy to F off?

  Ignore it.

  Because she refused to let Peter, or anyone else, know she was anything but cool with the attention. How weak would that be?

  Finally done staring, Peter fell back, climbed up into the seat, slid behind the steering wheel and kicked over the engine. He tapped his phone and Taylor Swift burst from the speakers. He grinned over at her through the open passenger window.

  Good God, how predictable.

  Lexi climbed in anyway.

  The heat of summer had come back and hot moist air rushed in as he swung out away from the curb. Within a minute they were turning off her rundown street, moving away from the battered houses of her neighbors. As the corner house grew smaller in the side mirror, recklessness flooded Lexi’s veins.

  That feeling was nothing new. Neither was the thought that came right after it—one day she’d leave and never come back.

  At the E-Wood Multiplex lot, Peter wedged his H2 between a green Impala and some decades-old, wood-trimmed minivan, slid out and waited with his hands shoved in his back pockets as Lexi climbed down. Behind him, the giant white brick theater stretched out for a whole block. Families, couples, clusters of friends milled about, pouring in and out of the glass doors. Above the rows of doors, blue and purple neon lights circled the movie listings.

  The glittering night was just right. Except that Peter was an ass. Which was too bad, because standing there with the sun falling behind him, his face all shadowed and angular, he looked hot. Like an Abercrombie boy toy.

  But he was an ass, so once she was out he looped around behind her, bent down and flattened his palms on her butt, squeezing her butt cheek as he shoved her toward the entrance.

  Forcing a laugh, she scooted away. “What do you want to see?”

  “You plan to watch the movie?” he asked, grabbing at her again and laughing at his own stupidity.

  The usual Peter moves.

  They picked the show with the shortest line, some futuristic army thing, then found seats in the back. Lexi tossed her sweater onto the armrest and Peter stretched his arm behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. It was cozy but not too much, so she settled back.

  Actual emotions flickered in his eyes for a second, and he asked, “Heard anything new about Jon?”

  Monica’s face flashed in Lexi’s mind. “No.”

  “What?” He tapped her shoulder. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing.” Lexi rubbed her nose, hiding the twitchy feeling taking over her face. “Why would I know anything?”

  “I don’t know.” Peter shrugged, his mouth tight. “Well, it’s weird. He’s been gone over a week.”

  Like she hadn’t been counting the days.

  He slouched. “You met the new kid?”

  Thinking about the person just added to her homeroom, Lexi asked, “The girl with the mini-fro?”

  “No.” He leaned closer and started picking at the seams of Lexi’s tee. “Some new kid Ash is hyped about. He says the guy played in the Little League World Series, so he’s really, really good. He’s going to catch for us.”

  She shook her head. “Nope, I was over at Ash’s the other night, he didn’t say anything about him.”

  “He’s got some weird name. Zen? Teke?”

  A memory flickered in Lexi’s mind but fizzled out. “You sure he started school already?”

  Peter’s hand stopped moving. “Why, you going to corner him with your list?”

  Lexi pulled her arms across herself. “A name’s a name.”

  “You girls. But as long as you’re willing to put out, I don’t have a problem with it.”

  Lexi rolled her eyes.

  Peter leaned still closer and whispered, “I’ll make sure you like it.”

  “I’m not doing that,” she whispered back.

  He grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know what you want.”

  Was he playing around? Or serious?

  The turn-off-your-cell cartoon started, and Lexi relaxed into the soapy-smelling cloud swirling around Peter. Even if it was Axe, it smelled pretty good. At least as long as the movie was going he couldn’t say any more annoying stuff. The previews dragged on, but once the movie started, she got into it. About forty-five minutes in, her cell started vibrating. She ignored it, but it kept going on and off, practically shaking itself out of her pocket.

  Five texts. Boyfriend drama. Jazz freaking out about Alan. Lexi leaned over to Peter, whispered, “Be right back.” She scooted down between the seats. Once she was in the aisle, she pulled her cell out and hit ‘Call’.

  “Hi.” Jazz came on before the first ring finished. “Um, yeah. So. How’s it going with Peter?”

  “Fine. Okay.” It was nice of her to ask, of course, but they both knew that wasn’t why she’d called. “What’s going on with Alan?”

  “Are you in the theater?”

  “No. Well, I was, but I came out in the hall to answer.”

  There was a beat of nothing, then, “He’s acting really weird about Jon, and I—”

  A crowd of people started pouring out of the theater across from the one she’d just come out of, so Lexi moved to the end of the hall and stood by a plate-glass window looking out at the side of the parking lot. “Jazz? What?” Lexi watched some minivans roll through the rows. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jazz sniffed a couple times. “I don’t want to go into it now, while you’re supposed to be hanging out with Peter.” She laughed a bit, then, sounding more like herself, added, “I know you have the list to deal with. Can you just call me when you’re done?”

  “Sure.” Thinking about Peter’s attitude, she added, “He’s either going to sign or he’s not, so it won’t take long.”

  Jazz started to say something but stopped and fell silent again. A group vaguely familiar guys from school passed by on the other side of the window. They were pushing and shoving one another and doing some kind of silly karate chops, but laughing so hard they could barely lift their legs. They looked so ridiculous, Lexi almost laughed herself.

  Finally, after Jazz sniffed again, she said, “Thanks. But don’t hurry for me. Really, I’m okay.”

  The kicking guys were out of view now, and the lot was empty of people close enough to watch. “You wouldn’t have called if it didn’t matter,” she said. “Right?”

  “I know. Thanks. Bye.” And she was gone.

  Lexi spun around, took a step forward and stopped. Monica. Always in the wrong place at the right time.

  “Hi, Lexi,” she said, sticking her hip out as she leaned her shoulder against the wall. Some of her curls swung forward, some settled prettily behind her back. “Having fun?” she asked, smirking in her usual arrogant way.

  Lexi resisted the urge to look her over and check out each tiny detail of her perfect outfit. Monica would not miss the once-over. She never missed anything. So Lexi kept her eyes steady, focused on Monica’s as she casually slid her phone into her back pocket then stuffed her hands into her front pockets. “Whatever.”

  “Not a very nice attitude,” Monica said, so softly it was almost a caress.

  Lexi took a step back. “Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

  Monica rolled back against the wall, shoving her breasts out as she lifted her eyebrows. “That’s not the way I remember it.”

  “Like I said”—Lexi pulled her hands from her pockets and flipped them, emphasizing her pretend lack of concern—“whatever.”

  Monica made a point of looking down at Lexi, her natural few inches of additional height made even more thanks to her heeled boots. “You here alone?” she asked.

  Lexi hated herself for not simply walking away. She’d didn’t owe Monica anything. She didn’t have to stand there and put up with Monica’s smug attitude. But the truth was, Monica had some thing, a pull Lexi just couldn’t back away from. “No.” She tipped her shoulder slowly, mimicking a cute move
she’d stolen from Monica herself. “I’m here with a guy.”

  Monica laughed, the noise sudden and aggressive. “I know.” She nodded toward the theater Lexi had come out of. “I saw you come in with Peter. How’s that going? He sign yet?” She laughed more, the delicate features of her face distorting into an expression Lexi was pretty sure nobody but her ever saw. “Did anyone sign for you yet?”

  It was Lexi’s turn to lift her eyebrows. She wasn’t about to let Monica know she was the least bit shaken up. No way would she mention the second-string players—or even Spaz and Shortie—that she’d already signed. Better to keep the other girl wondering. Off balance. Better yet, away from her.

  “Nothing to say?” Monica shook her head, her glossed lips all twisted, her breasts pressed against the typically tight sweater. “Didn’t think so.”

  Lexi’s patience snapped. “I’m not a whore like—”

  “Yes?” Monica stood up, came forward and looked down Lexi’s shirt. “You aren’t a whore like me? You sure about that? You never used somebody to get what you wanted?”

  Lexi brushed past the other girl and stalked back to the theater. As soon as the door swung shut, she stopped walking to stand just inside the dark room. After a few seconds her breathing started to slow and the tingle of anger and fear faded enough that she’d be able to pretend she was fine. The last thing she needed was Peter asking her a bunch of questions.

  Ready to face him, she moved into the theater. Everyone was laughing when she came in, their heads bobbing all over the place. One guy in her row was even kicking. His foot connected solidly with her shin and he mumbled sorry. Lexi mumbled no problem and rushed to her seat, a sweet ‘sorry I took so long’ for Peter forming in her mouth.

  But she didn’t get a chance to use it because he was gone. Her sweater was right where she’d left it, but his seat was empty.

  Some girl yelled, “Get out of the way, people are trying to watch a movie,” so Lexi dropped into her seat and looked around to see if Peter had moved. She didn’t spot him, so she slumped down.

  Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom.

  Or went looking for her?

  She twisted, looking around as best she could. Was he in a different seat? Moved to play a joke on her? Went out and came back in and got lost?

  A while later, she was still in the same position. Her heart was hammering and stomach was starting to churn.

  He wasn’t coming back.

  What kind of loser ditched someone at the movies?

  Lexi pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. Jazz was a mess. She didn’t want to add to her stress by asking her to come get her. Lexi sent a ‘can you come get me’ text to her mom. After she hit ‘Send’, she looked around again, trying to see if Peter was staring at her, laughing.

  He wasn’t. She was sure he’d left.

  She could send him a message and tell him what an asshole he was, but why give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her? Whatever his agenda was, she wanted no part of it.

  Lexi slipped on her sweater, got up, wove back to the aisle and headed for the door. Once in the hall, she checked her phone. Nothing from her mom. She tried calling, listening to all five rings before the voicemail went on. She clicked off without leaving a message.

  Even though she knew it was pointless, Lexi went to the concession area and made a circle. Kids carrying popcorn, couples holding hands, groups of girls walking together with their faces tipped down to the phones in their hands.

  No Peter.

  She tried her mom again. No answer.

  With no other choice, she called Jasmine, who answered right away.

  “Peter ditched me. Can you come get me at the E-Wood?”

  There was a pause, then, “He what?”

  “He left while I was out in the hall. I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s true. He left me here. By myself.”

  “Are you sure he left?” she asked, her voice rising. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”

  Lexi grumbled then replied, “It’s been, like, twenty-five minutes.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense at all. Did you guys have an argument or something?”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense and no we didn’t have an argument. We were watching the movie.” Until you called. She didn’t add that. No point making Jazz feel like crap for some stupid thing Peter did.

  Always the reasonable one, Jazz kept her cool, stayed silent for a few more seconds before asking, “Maybe he got sick or something. Did you go look for his car?”

  “No.” Lexi ducked through the concession stand crowd and started walking toward the exit. “I feel so stupid, I should’ve thought of that.”

  “You were probably too busy being pissed.”

  Lexi hopped off the sidewalk, took four strides into the lot and saw a mud-spattered blue Jetta instead of Peter’s H2. Her blood pressure skyrocketed.

  “Yeah. It’s gone.”

  “All right. What a total ass. I’ll be there as fast as I can, but it’ll take a few because I have to sneak out the back—don’t ask, I’ll explain when I get there. Wait by the side near the road, I’ll pull up there.”

  “Thanks, Jazz.” Lexi clicked off, took one last pointless look around the parking lot, then headed back to the side of the theater. As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of someone rounding the corner at the other end. Curly dark hair, long legs made even longer by high-heeled boots, and that unmistakable stiff, quick walk.

  Monica.

  What the hell was she up to?

  But with that girl there was no telling. Follow her? She wanted to but the risk of being spotted wasn’t worth it. Better to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. Lexi dropped to the ground and leaned against the white brick, waiting for Jazz, telling herself again that all this effort would be worth it. Once she was named boosters’ president, she’d get Monica out of her face, never have to put up with being ditched again, and be at the top of everything in Cherry Grove that mattered.

  Chapter Four

  There’s No Place Like Home, Thank God

  About twenty minutes later, Jazz pulled up. Lexi scanned the area to make sure Monica wasn’t still around, spying on her or who knows what else, then climbed into Jazz’s car.

  “Hey,” she said, then slammed the door. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Of course. Thanks to you for listening to me about Alan.” Jazz pulled away from the curb and headed toward the less hectic back section of the theater parking lot. “After I thought about it, I realized Peter left you there because you stepped out to talk to me.”

  Lexi shrugged and said, “Guys are jerks.” She picked through the jumble of pens and lip glosses in the bottom of her bag until she found her house keys. “You going to be able to sneak back in?”

  “Yeah.” Jazz hit the gas and zoomed out into traffic. “I just have to remember to get up early to put the ladder away.”

  “Sorry about that. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.” Lexi ran her finger along the car door handle then looked out to the road in front of them. “I tried my mom first but she didn’t answer.”

  “You called her?”

  “Yeah.” She squeezed the keys in her fist. “And texted.”

  Jazz frowned. “Maybe she’s asleep.”

  “It’s not even eleven yet.” Lexi could hear the hurt in her own voice.

  Jazz turned right, taking them closer to Lexi’s section of town. “No big deal about the ladder. It’s not like I haven’t snuck out every other night this week.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I think part of what’s bugging Alan is that my dad is being all crazy about Jon disappearing, like it means there’s some serial killer on the loose. Like every guy from school is a potential madman, including Alan, who my dad has known for like forever.”

  “It is weird, Jon being gone and staying gone,” Lexi said, meaning every word.

  Jazz pulled up in front of Lexi’s house and put the car in p
ark. “Everyone’s saying that.”

  Lexi scanned the street. Porch lights cast an uneven yellow light across the hedges and piles of leaves. She looked at her front door, wondering again why her mom hadn’t even responded. Too bad there wasn’t sort of parent halfway between hers and Jazz’s. Some kind of normal person who trusted their kid but looked out for them at the same time.

  “Hey,” Jazz said, snapping Lexi out of her thoughts. “What time is Filpot’s funeral?”

  Another difficult subject. There were just too many lately. “Three o’clock. I’ll drive if you want. Pick you up at two?”

  Jazz nodded, the side of her face flashing bright as a pickup truck rambled by.

  Lexi shoved open the car door, waved at Jazz and went up the walk, kicking through the latest layer of leaves. Jazz backed out, the lights of her VW cutting across the doorway as Lexi went inside. The still house swallowed her as she padded through the dark living room. A familiar scent drifted under her nose, but the irritation that lingered from dealing with crazy, annoying Monica and Peter ditching her scattered her attempts to figure out what it was.

  What a complete waste of a night. Next time she’d get the guy to sign first.

  She stepped softly up the stairs, pausing at the top landing to look at her mom’s closed door. There had been a time when her mom actually listened, made her feel better when bad stuff happened.

  But those times were over.

  Her gaze shifted to the doorway of her own room where her bed, visible beneath the window, waited. The rumpled pink chenille cover had been smoothed, her matching throw pillows carefully arranged. The usual trail of clothes from her closet to dresser—gone. A basket of folded laundry stood in its place.

  Why her mom had suddenly turned into Martha Stewart, Lexi had no idea. But if she was in one of her everything-is-perfect moods, talking about anything real was definitely out of the question. Once inside her room, Lexi silently pressed her door shut, tossed her bag into her chair, then threw herself across her bed and stared at the shadowed ceiling.