by Mary Strand
Five minutes later, Lauren leaned my way again. I gritted my teeth.
“Zach said the band is playing tonight. Party at Kirk’s house.”
And Lauren was going? After the way Chelsea pounced on her at Russo’s pizzeria last weekend?
Keeping an eye on Ms. Frey, who was droning on about balancing a checkbook, I whispered back. “I hadn’t heard, but I’m probably not going.”
I was a little surprised I hadn’t heard, since Kirk and I were pals no matter how much Amber bared her fangs at me, but it didn’t matter. Much. Besides, I’d already spent last Friday night watching Zach go all knight-in-shining-armor with Lauren, and I was trying to cut back on my sugar intake.
“Wanna go together?”
Frowning, I checked to make sure Ms. Frey was still talking, but I couldn’t afford to go anywhere with a druggie. Not unless I wanted to catch the next flight back to Shangri-La. “Maybe you can ride with Zach.”
“Yeah. I could.” Lauren pursed her painted-black lips. “But you should go, too. We could go together.”
I could even take the Jeep, since Cat’s little stunt when she scooted home on Monday without me left her without wheels for the foreseeable future, as Dad had put it.
But hanging with Lauren was a big risk to me. I also didn’t want to go to a party where I’d have to watch Heather playing guitar way better than me, Amber draping herself all over Kirk, and Zach doing battle with anyone who even looked at Lauren the wrong way.
I’d choose Algebra homework over that scene.
Okay, not in the absence of a lobotomy. And, okay, it’d been too long since I’d had any fun.
I shrugged. “Should I pick you up?”
Sure enough, I scored the Jeep. Cat slammed the door to her room when I asked if she wanted to tag along to Kirk’s party.
But weird. I mean, I knew what happened to Cat last spring, but that was last spring. And everyone would be there tonight.
Including me.
I stood outside Cat’s bedroom door. “Last chance.”
Silence. It was an improvement over the barrage of swearing that ended only when she slammed the door, but it still wasn’t like Cat. Or, more accurately, the Cat I used to know.
“Jeremy will be there.”
I didn’t even say it to taunt her.
Not that she didn’t deserve it.
“He still likes you.”
Okay, I had no idea if he did or why I said something nice, since God knows she hadn’t said anything nice to me since I got home from Shangri-La.
She started blaring music. I didn’t recognize the singer or the band, but I couldn’t miss the highlight of the chorus: “Go to hell.”
I laughed. At least a dozen girls at Shangri-La had told me to go to hell, and worse, but none of them had found a song to express their sentiments.
Cat must actually care.
I jogged down the stairs, still grinning.
Which, yeah, showed how much my life sucked.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up in front of Lauren’s house. It was on the opposite side of Woodbury in a neighborhood of designer-gray lookalike houses that could definitely benefit from one of Mom’s manic days and several cans of different colors of bright paint.
As I double-checked the address, I didn’t see Zach’s orange VW. Not that I was looking.
Before I could turn off the Jeep, Lauren came outside, then called back to someone inside the house. A moment later, she slid into the passenger seat.
She was a vision in black. Knee-high boots, leggings, whisper-thin gauzy top with a black bra underneath. More eyeliner than I’d ever seen on anyone, even at Shangri-La.
But a squeaky-clean guy who had a Cat in the Hat tattoo and drove a bright-orange VW Beetle liked her.
Huh.
She checked out my outfit, too, and frowned. “Is that what most girls will be wearing to Kirk’s party?”
I glanced down at myself. Jeans, running shoes, and a mildly loose but not ratty Arctic Monkeys T-shirt, the only thing I’d ever gotten from Justin Truesdale besides a trip to jail and a one-way ticket to reform school.
Okay, I should probably burn it.
“Lydia? Am I dressed wrong?”
Blinking, I glanced at Lauren. “Sorry. No, you’re fine. I guess I practiced guitar too long and forgot to get into party mode.”
Actually, I didn’t forget. I just wanted to pretend that Kirk’s party, along with everyone at it, was no big deal. Not worth getting dressed up for.
But why didn’t Lauren know how to dress for a party? Didn’t she go to parties? She wasn’t exactly a goody two-shoes.
Totally the opposite.
As I parked on Kirk’s street and opened my door, Lauren bit her lip, glancing down at her own outfit. “You’re sure?”
Weird. “Positive.”
We walked into Kirk’s party, which was a crazy-loud mob scene. Kirk was nowhere in sight. The band was nowhere in sight. Oh, right. I heard the neighbors had called the cops the last time Kirk had a party, so he’d probably have the band play in the basement tonight.
As if he wouldn’t get busted anyway. Ha.
“Should we check out the basement?” I had to shout at Lauren, and she must not have heard, since she headed into the kitchen instead.
A moment later she pulled two beers out of a huge cooler and tried to hand me one. I shook my head, knowing it wouldn’t take much to land in reform school again. Especially, despite what he said the other day, with a dad like mine.
“Oh, look. It’s Lydia Bennet pretending to be a good girl.” Amber had her claws out, and they could really use some polish. “Or are you holding out for stronger stuff?”
Shrugging, I walked over to another cooler and scored a bottle of Coke. I toasted Amber with it. “Anything would be stronger than you. But where’s Kirk? Hiding from you?”
“You are such a bitch.” Turning, Amber sneered in Lauren’s direction. “And I see you brought some serious trash to our party.”
Lauren bristled, but she was also shaking. As in, nervous. Even though Zach must be here and would probably rip Amber’s face off any moment.
I put a hand on Lauren’s arm as I faced Amber. Casually. Knowing I could take her out at the knees without any effort. “I think you meant to say Kirk’s party, but no. The trash was already here when I showed up.”
I looked her up and down for good measure. I mean, Amber wasn’t bright.
Her eyes were wild, making me wonder how much she’d already had to drink. “Kirk didn’t invite you. I told him not to.”
“Yeah?” I grinned. “How did that work out for you?”
“Lydia. Lauren.” Sure enough, Zach appeared from out of nowhere. “Kirk asked where you guys were, so I said I’d find you. We’re all in the basement.”
Not Amber, obviously, but maybe Kirk needed a guard dog. Amber had the snarl and the face for the job.
She jabbed a finger in Zach’s chest. “Kirk doesn’t want them here.”
Zach just stared down at her finger until she withdrew it and took a step backward. And another.
Her face was bright red. “He said so.”
“Yeah?” Unlike me, Zach didn’t even crack a grin. “I’ll ask him. Just like I’ll ask him what he was smoking the day he decided to go out with you. And every day since.”
“You are such a—”
“—good guy? I know.” Tight-lipped, Zach took Lauren and me by the elbow and led us toward the stairs to the basement. “Seriously. Was the guy desperate? Or maybe he always wanted a dog, and his parents wouldn’t buy him one?”
“I heard that!”
“Good ears. I’ll bet you can even hear really high-pitched noises.” Letting Lauren and me go ahead, Zach pulled the door to the basement shut.
I headed downstairs. Lauren, breathing hard, followed close behind me. From the pounding and rattling of the doorknob, Zach was holding the door closed as Amber tried to open it.
Laughing, I walked into a mostl
y dark basement.
At the far end, Kirk was tuning up his guitar. Alone. No Michael, no Jeremy, no Heather.
Based on all the pounding and screaming coming from upstairs, Zach might not be joining us anytime soon, either.
Kirk looked up as I headed toward him, followed by Lauren. “Lydia?” He nodded at Lauren before turning back to me. “You heard Heather was sick today? Can I talk you into playing?”
Oh. Shit.
I’d finally mastered “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Okay, “mastered” wasn’t exactly true. As Jazz kept telling me, the strumming pattern wasn’t all downward strums in varying tempos that depended completely on when I had to do a D chord.
But everyone’s a critic.
I gave Kirk a tight smile. “Sorry. No guitar.”
He waved at the wall behind him, where five guitars other than the one he was holding were lined up in a row.
Every one of them was way more expensive than the one I owned.
I mean, not that it mattered. I could mangle a D chord on any guitar I touched. On a really bad day, I could even mangle a G chord. As Jazz put it, that took work.
“The thing is—”
“The thing is, Lydia jammed a finger on her left hand today when she was working out on the parallel bars.” Zach appeared beside me, almost like magic. No, definitely magic. He’d made Amber disappear. “Or was it the uneven parallels? Is that what you call them?”
“Uneven parallels.” But what I’d call Zach was a total liar. Or a savior. Or maybe both.
He stepped away from me, closer to Lauren, leaving me to face Kirk.
Kirk stared down at my perfectly normal-looking left hand before glancing from me to Zach and back again. “You’re really going out for gymnastics? That’s—”
“Totally cool, right?” Zach, looking tight with Lauren, nodded. “I stopped by school today to talk to my old art teacher, and I went past the gym. You’re looking good.”
Funny. I hadn’t lasted twenty minutes, thanks to a group of snotty girls who refused to spot me on the uneven parallels and Coach Burns, who said I couldn’t use them without a spotter.
But why Zach was lying for me, I had no idea. He didn’t really know I couldn’t play guitar. I mean, he couldn’t be sure, could he?
Kirk just frowned. After an awkward moment, or several, Zach gave Lauren’s hand a quick squeeze before moving past Kirk and over to the guitar stand holding his bass.
Michael and Jeremy soon thundered down the steps, but still no Amber. Michael headed to the keyboard. Jeremy just stopped and stared at me.
“Hey, Jeremy.” If I had to keep giving all these tight smiles all night, at some point my face was going to freeze in a grimace. At least, that’s what Dad had always said. “Cat couldn’t come out tonight.”
Frowning, he stomped over to the drum set. If the banging that came out of it moments later was a song, it wasn’t a song I ever wanted to hear again. Or now.
“Jesus, Jeremy.” Kirk covered his ears, even though he’d already put in earplugs. “If you want her back, go for it, but cut the crap.”
Zach grinned at me, mouthing the word “girlfriends.”
Maybe he should say that to Lauren instead.
As the band tuned up, more kids filtered downstairs until the basement was packed. I didn’t see Amber or, for that matter, Tess. Or Drew and Chelsea. In fact, other than Lauren and the guys in the band, I didn’t know anyone here. I mean, I knew them, but I didn’t hang with them.
More accurately, I hadn’t hung with any of them since I got home from Shangri-La.
Or they hadn’t hung with me.
Straightening my spine, I walked over to the side of the room, where I leaned against the wall. Lauren stayed where she was, right in front of the band. As they started playing their first song, Hozier’s “Take Me to Church,” she stood alone, swaying in time to the music.
And staring at Zach.
They made an odd couple—a goth chick who maybe did drugs and a guy who had a Cat in the Hat tattoo and drove a bright-orange VW just to please his mom—but she definitely worshipped him, and he was beyond sweet with her.
And, hey, they made more sense than Kirk and Amber. And Drew and Chelsea. And Jeremy and Cat.
But who was I to judge? I’d spent most of a summer with Justin, even after everything that happened, just because I didn’t have the guts to run home. Without stopping.
Justin was a player, a guy who took without giving. He’d totally sweet-talked me into actually believing that a guy could want to be with me for something other than sex, but I was the one who got a year in reform school. The rat bastard.
“Are you okay? You look really pissed.”
I blinked, wondering when Lauren had quit staring at Zach long enough to notice me.
I didn’t even try to fake a smile. “Just thinking.”
She peered at me as if she could see all the way into my soul. Even though no one could. Maybe not even me.
Finally, she glanced back at the band. “They sound pretty good, but we don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”
“I thought you’d want to hear Zach play.” As twin patches of pink lit up Lauren’s cheeks, I waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll hang here if you want to listen some more.”
She looked again at the band. Or maybe just at Zach. “I don’t have to stay. I can hear them play some other time.”
She could get Zach to give her a private concert whenever she snapped her fingers, but whatever. They liked each other. Totally cool.
As she walked away, I studied the guys in the band.
Michael had sung “Take Me to Church,” a song I loved until he started singing it. Now Kirk was singing “She Don’t Use Jelly,” even though I was pretty sure Cat told me that Kirk never sang. His voice was good—really good, actually, like his guitar playing and everything else he did except for choosing decent girlfriends. But the lyrics sounded like they’d been written by a sixteen-year-old boy who dreamed of sex but didn’t have a clue, which didn’t sound at all like Kirk.
Not that I knew how Kirk would be, romantically speaking, but he was way cooler than this song. Not that I was obsessing over Kirk.
For one thing, I was too busy not obsessing over Zach.
I’d never obsess over a guy like Zach. One, he wasn’t interested. Two, he and Lauren were tight, and—unlike most guys I knew—he didn’t seem like someone who’d stray. Three, he wasn’t interested.
I mean, I wasn’t interested in him. He drove a bright-orange VW Beetle, had a ridiculous Cat in the Hat tattoo, and listened to classical music instead of anything good.
Fine. Except for that, he was pretty cute.
Cool. I meant cool.
Jeremy had stopped whacking his drums and cymbals like a maniac, settling into a nice groove. His hair was purple tonight with tiny hot-pink spikes that made me grateful that Michael, who had flaming red hair, was on the opposite end of the so-called stage. Zach played at the end closest to me, in front of Jeremy on drums.
Okay, I was watching him, but only because he was so good on bass. I should really watch Kirk and try to figure out how he played guitar so well. Despite Jazz’s doubts, and maybe my own, I wanted to be a great guitar player. Some day.
Kirk’s fingers flew up and down the neck of his guitar in a way I couldn’t even dream of, and I could usually dream of pretty much anything. At least, I had before Shangri-La. Did I dream of anything anymore?
I looked again at Zach, who I did not dream about. He wasn’t even my type. If I had a type.
I glanced back at Kirk in time to catch the way his mouth quirked upward on one side, as if something amused him. As if I amused him.
“He thinks you’re a total joke.”
I whipped my head to the left, away from the band, and not just because one of Amber’s sharp claws was digging a groove in my forearm. Grabbing her wrist, I twisted it. Hard.
She went down even harder.
The band kept playing.
>
As Chelsea helped her up off the floor, Drew stepped between us. “Causing trouble as usual, I see.”
He was grinning, though, and totally Drew: not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, as my dad would say, but cute. He moved closer, slowly, as if he wondered if I’d send him sprawling to the floor next. When I rolled my eyes, he moved all the way in and put his arm around me.
Someone in the band hit a bad chord. A really bad one. Drew squeezed my waist and moved even closer, which should’ve been physically impossible.
Tense, I glanced past him, but Chelsea and Amber had both disappeared.
Weird. Even for them.
“Wanna blow out of here?” Drew’s mouth was on my ear as if it planned to stay there. It was wet and on the move, which wasn’t exactly on my wish list. Not tonight. And not with Drew. “We could party at my house.”
I liked Drew, actually. But why couldn’t a guy and a girl just be pals? Or why couldn’t guys see me as a pal and not an easy lay?
My sister Liz is totally cute, but she’s always had tons of guy pals and, until Alex, not many boyfriends or even dates. Did she hate that just as much?
I wished I could talk to her. Like, right now.
I twisted slightly, just enough to release myself from Drew’s mouth. And tongue. And various other body parts. I glanced at the band. Kirk was staring at me, but his trademark grin was gone. Because I’d thrown Amber to the floor? Or because Drew was hitting on me? None of it was my fault!
Just like that, the band stopped playing. In the middle of a song.
“Sorry, guys.” Kirk looked at everyone in the crowd except Drew and me. “We need to take a short break. Be right back.”
“So?” Drew’s mouth, right on cue. “My house?”
“What about Chelsea?”
And what about my strong preference for guys who had a brain and not just a libido?
“Chelsea and I—” Drew shrugged. “I mean, she’s not you.”
I could still picture Chelsea’s face in Speech Communications class right before she puked just because she had to say “oral sex and STDs” out loud. Melodramatic, yeah, but I’d also seen Drew’s face. Totally guilty.
“I have to pass, but thanks.” I smiled at him, trying to ease the sting. “I gave Lauren a ride here, and I need to be up early tomorrow.”