Livin' La Vida Bennet

by Mary Strand

  “We could—”

  “You could get a room.” Kirk, who’d always had a bazillion gorgeous girls wrapped around him, was suddenly in Drew’s face. But then he turned to me. “Did Amber ask you to help her do a flip in the air? I thought you were the one going out for gymnastics. If that’s even true.”

  I flinched. “Your girlfriend was clawing my arm.” I held it up for his inspection, almost wishing more blood was dripping from it, but a bright-red gash was definitely there. “She’s a little possessive, huh? Do you actually like that?”

  He pushed his silly rock-star sunglasses up on top of his head. “She’s a little . . .”

  He trailed off as his gaze swept the length of me, then came back up to boob level. Was this the so-called cool Kirk Easton? No wonder he’d sung “She Don’t Like Jelly.” Maybe it was autobiographical.

  “She’s with me, Kirk.” Drew found his voice, although it cracked a little. “I think Amber went upstairs.”

  “Along with your girlfriend.” Kirk turned to me, his gaze dipping again to boob level, even though I was wearing a stupid Arctic Monkeys T-shirt that was the opposite of tight. Or sexy. Or even cute. “Are you with Drew now?”

  “I’m not with anyone.”

  “Lydia?” Lauren appeared behind Kirk but must’ve been too smart to get any closer, what with Kirk and Drew both baring their teeth and all. “Did you want to go?”

  I glanced from her to Zach, who hadn’t moved but also wasn’t even touching his bass guitar. I had no idea what he was doing. Staring at the floor?

  Getting out of this hot mess was the best idea I’d heard in a long time, but Lauren’s question surprised me. “Don’t you want to stay and listen?”

  She shook her head. “I’d really like to leave, if that’s okay.”

  “Works for me.” Detaching myself from Drew, I brushed past Kirk with a completely unapologetic smile. “Sorry, guys. Feel free to keep pissing on each other, but if you get tired of it, I think your girlfriends are upstairs.”

  I gave Zach a wave. He just nodded, a little curt or tense or something, so I bit my lip and headed for the stairs. Lauren had already disappeared, but I caught up with her in the front hall.

  I frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  “It wasn’t that much fun.” She shrugged, her gaze on the floor. “Nobody said a word to me.”

  I patted her arm. “Zach would’ve talked to you all night if he hadn’t been playing. And once they started playing, I couldn’t hear what anyone said.”

  “They were talking to you. Everyone.” Her gaze was still locked on the floor, almost as if it were the yellow brick road. I could’ve told her that nothing in this house was the magical path to anything she’d ever want.

  I snorted. “Believe me, I wish they hadn’t.”

  “Every guy . . . wants you.”

  Only in a disgusting way, and I also didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of Kirk’s front hall. Or, to be honest, anywhere.

  I steered Lauren outside. “It’s not what you think. Like, not at all. Besides, you seem to be besties with Zach, and he’s nicer than the guys who talk to me.”

  It was probably why he had no interest in the biggest slut in the entire history of Woodbury High School.

  If you believed the rumors, at least.

  Lauren’s head was still down, her feet dragging, so I focused on getting her to the Jeep. I finally looked up, though, at the flashing lights on a couple of police cars.

  Whew. We’d left Kirk’s party just in time, and I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. All good.

  The police cars were right next to the Jeep, though, which wasn’t so good. Still, I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they’d have to let us leave. I walked up to the driver’s-side door of the Jeep. A cop with a buzz cut and the thickest neck I’d ever seen blocked my way.

  Pointing at the Jeep, I gave him a friendly smile. “Okay if we leave? I think you’ll have to move that car.”

  His hands went to his hips. “Is this your Jeep?”

  I almost said “guilty as charged” just as Lauren, who’d gone to the passenger door, shrieked. “Lydia, your window’s broken!”

  Crap. Story of my life.

  Chapter 17

  “At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse, without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life.”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Eighteen

  As I sucked in a breath, I saw my fragile hopes of keeping my Jeep privileges swirling down the drain. I headed toward Lauren and the broken window I’d have to explain to Dad.

  The cop moved in front of me, blocking me.

  I sidestepped him. He matched me.

  Impatient to see how bad the damage was, I shook my head. “Someone broke the window on my Jeep. I mean, my family’s Jeep. I have to take a look at it.”

  “This is your Jeep?”

  “My family’s Jeep. My parents own it, and I’ve got to check out the broken window and call my dad, so he can call the police.” I tried again to move around the cop as I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. “Or do I just tell you? Is that why you’re here?”

  Head down, I scrolled to Dad’s name on my “favorites” list, even though he hadn’t been one of my favorites in too long to remember. The cop reached out, trying to grab my phone, but I whipped it behind my back.

  “Miss, step away from the Jeep. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  I waved a hand. “My dad or mom—” Wait. Strike that. Even though my mom was the lawyer in the family, she tended to freak out about things like broken windows. “My dad can answer whatever you need to know. I just need to call him. He can be here in ten minutes.”

  I looked for Lauren so I could apologize for the hassle, but she’d totally disappeared. I knew she was antsy to leave the party, but she didn’t have to freak about it.

  Even I wasn’t freaking, and I had the broken window.

  The veins in the cop’s neck bulged like a heart attack or aneurysm waiting to happen. “I need you to come with me.”

  Talk about creepy. I shook my head. “No offense, but I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m calling my dad. Someone broke my window, and my dad’s going to freak.”

  Another cop joined us, a slim, pretty woman who made me want to ask who cut her short hair. She looked nearly as lacking in humanity as the male cop, though, so this didn’t seem like the moment. “Are you Lydia Bennet?” She glanced at a small notebook she carried. “Were you with Lauren . . . Kjelstad?”

  I blinked. She totally butchered Lauren’s last name, trying to pronounce the “j” in it, but that wasn’t what made my jaw drop. “Yeah, I’m Lydia, but how do you know my name? The Jeep should be registered in my mom or dad’s name.”

  She glanced at the male cop, who nodded, then turned back to me. “You can call your parents. Please tell them to come here as quickly as possible.”

  Both my parents? Mom? Thanks, but I didn’t have a death wish. And how did these cops know my name?

  “My mom’s out of town, but I’m sure my dad can come.”

  While the female cop gave me the evil eye, I pulled my phone from my back pocket. Holding it tightly in case one of the cops made a grab for it, I called Dad’s cell phone.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Is everything okay?”

  So much for cheerful parental greetings.

  “Um, Dad?” Both cops were listening, but I resisted the strong urge to turn my back on them or, say, run like hell. “Someone broke a window on the Jeep, and the cops want you to come. Like, right now.”

  Dead silence. Just as I pulled my phone away from my ear to see if we’d gotten disconnected, I heard Dad sigh.

  “Where are you?”

  I gave him the streets at the intersection near Kirk’s house. I almost told him not to bring Mom, but the cops were listening intently. Besides, Dad tended to do the opposite of whatever I asked. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.


  “I’ll be right there.” Click. Yeah, Dad still had a cell phone that snapped shut. Dinosaurs R Us.

  Slipping my phone in my back pocket, I gave the female cop a tight smile. “He’s coming.”

  I glanced at Kirk’s house, a few houses up the street from where the Jeep was parked. Unlike ten minutes ago, I didn’t hear loud music or any other noise, but a few dozen kids were on Kirk’s front lawn and sidewalk, and some even closer, checking out what Lydia Bennet had done this time.

  Not a damn thing.

  Had one of them broken my window? Or had the asshat who broke it already split? Just like Lauren?

  I didn’t see Kirk or any of the guys in the band, who were probably still in the basement. Finally, I spied a girl half hidden behind a tree in the yard across the street from me, her arms wrapped around her waist.

  Tess.

  The moment I caught her eye, I expected her to run. She didn’t, but she took another step behind the tree as she kept staring at me. Bizarre.

  She’d probably already posted a video of the whole thing online, along with a ton of other kids. Just like at that strip bar in Milwaukee last summer.

  Remembering only too well, I felt my cheeks flame.

  “Miss?” The female cop had a hard edge to her voice, and I could tell she didn’t fall for anyone’s bullshit, but with a soft touch on my arm she turned me away from the crowd. “Let’s wait on the sidewalk for your father.”

  It registered, finally, that I was still in the middle of the street, where anyone could run me down. Based on the passenger window of the Jeep and Amber’s claw marks on my arm, I was surprised no one had. Yet.

  Shaking more than I wanted to think about, I walked behind the Jeep and onto the sidewalk, where I caught my first glimpse of the broken window.

  “Jesus.”

  Whoever broke the window had used a baseball bat or worse. I also spied several dents that hadn’t been on the side and hood of the Jeep before, and that included all the dents Cat and I put there before we had our driver’s licenses.

  Feeling tears welling in my eyes, I bit my lip.

  The female cop watched me but didn’t say a word. The male cop was still in the middle of the street, talking to someone on his cell phone.

  Finally, a green Honda Civic cruised slowly down the street toward us. Seeing someone in the passenger seat, I bit back a curse. When Dad parked a few cars behind the Jeep, though, Liz hopped out from the passenger side.

  Thank God.

  As she strode toward me, wearing a ragged pair of jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, I wished for a moment that Jane had joined Dad for this rescue mission. Jane would be dressed impeccably and speak so soothingly that the cops would fall all over themselves to do what she asked.

  Seeing Liz, the male cop ended his call and tried to intercept her. She waved him off. Dismissively. I glanced at the female cop, still tight at my side. Her lips were pursed.

  I’d never been happier in my life to see Liz.

  “Hey, I just want to see my sister.” Liz was still trying to get past the male cop. I could tell from her scowl that she was tempted to take him down, but so far she was restraining herself. “You called us here, right? We’re here.”

  The male cop stayed next to her as she came up and hugged me. For the first time in my life.

  Then she glanced at the Jeep. “Jesus!”

  The female cop cracked a sliver of a grin. “That’s what your sister said.”

  Dad joined us, finally, his mouth a grim slash, his eyes tired. Let’s just say he didn’t hug me.

  His eyes swept the side of the Jeep. When he moved closer to it, the male cop rushed forward. “Sir, you can’t touch the Jeep. It’s evidence.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “I think the evidence is obvious. A bashed-in window and other damage to the body that none of my five daughters put there, despite their best attempts over the last few years.”

  He grinned at Liz and me. Or maybe just at Liz.

  “Sir, there’s nothing funny about this situation.” The male cop totally had a pole up his ass. “Are you Lydia Bennet’s father?”

  Dad’s dark-blond eyebrows rose. “Yes, I’m her father. All day today.”

  The cop looked pissed, but Liz was bouncing on her toes and grinning. To her, this was probably just another sporting event.

  “Of course this isn’t even remotely funny.” Dad took a step closer to the cop. Then another step, until he was in the guy’s face. “Some jackass beat the hell out of my Jeep, but you’re so busy harassing my daughter and insisting that I come to the scene of the crime that you can’t do your job.”

  The cop glared right back at Dad. “My job, sir, is to arrest your daughter for possession of the drugs we found in plain sight in the vehicle.”

  What?

  In the sudden and jaw-dropping silence, the cop puffed out his barrel chest. “Since she’s a minor, we wanted you here, but the drugs involved mean we can’t release her to your custody.”

  “Drugs?” Dad glanced at me.

  “I don’t do drugs.” I don’t know why I bothered saying it, since Dad obviously took the word of the cops over me. Did he think I smashed in the window, too? “I’ve never touched them. Ever.”

  After a year at Shangri-La, I didn’t even shake as I said it.

  Dad looked at me again, more intently, for what felt like forever. Finally, he looked from the male cop to the female cop, his gaze stopping with her. Good decision. “The drugs aren’t Lydia’s. Or anyone else’s in my family.”

  The female cop just gazed back at him, but the male cop waved his arms, apoplexy style. “The drugs are on the front seat of the Jeep, confirming tips we received. Marijuana, cocaine, crack, and pills that appear to be hallucinogens.”

  Dad rolled his eyes again. “Did the tips mention the broken window? Did you happen to see the broken window?”

  “Sir, that’s not dispositive.”

  The female cop moved forward, stepping between them. “Mr. Bennet, I’m Officer Lewis, and this is my partner, Officer Andreassen. The callers both mentioned the Jeep, the drugs, and the fact that Lydia Bennet and—” She whipped out her notebook again. “Lauren Kjelstad.” Butchered it again. “Both callers identified the occupants of the Jeep as Lydia and Lauren. If Lauren is the young woman who returned to the vehicle with Lydia, I will note that she ran from the scene.”

  “Lauren?” Dad’s brow furrowed as he caught my eye. “Who’s Lauren?”

  I shrugged. “Just a girl from school. I gave her a ride to Kirk’s party, and we were about to head home.”

  Dad glanced at his watch. “So early?”

  “The party was a bore, and a couple of girls were harassing me.” Frowning, I turned to the female cop. “Were the calls from girls? Like, teenage girls?”

  Amber? Chelsea? Or Tess, who was no longer in sight?

  “Did Tess do this?” Liz’s fists were clenched. “That little shit.”

  “My first guess would be Amber and Chelsea.” I hadn’t turned into a snitch at Shangri-La, even though the place had been infested with them, but I was not going down without a fight. I turned to Liz, holding up my arm. “Amber actually clawed me at the party, and she and Chelsea are afraid I might steal their boyfriends. Their totally lame boyfriends.”

  At this point, I definitely included Kirk in the “lame” category.

  “All I can confirm is that the callers sounded female.” Officer Lewis exchanged a look with the male cop. “They identified Lauren—” She paused, then apparently decided not to attempt her last name again. “Well, as a drug dealer. They also said Lydia had spent time in reform school and that Lauren provided drugs to Lydia during class a few weeks ago.” She looked up at Dad, who looked stricken. “We have to take this information seriously.”

  “Even if it’s completely untrue.” I shook my head, seeing a tall metal fence again in my near future. “And both girls said the same exact thing? Did they also mention the fact that they bashed in the
freaking window?”

  “The window is irrelevant.” Officer Andreassen’s neck was bulging again. I hoped he did have a heart attack or stroke and drop on the spot. I’d kick him where he lay. “The evidence—”

  Officer Lewis held up a hand, cutting him off. She then walked over to the Jeep and peered through the now-permanently open window. Her jaw clenched.

  “Mr. Bennet, would you and your daughter agree to have her submit to a drug test?”

  Dad looked at me, frowning, probably because he figured I’d fail a drug test.

  “Fine by me.” I nodded at the woman. “Drug, alcohol, anything you want.”

  When Liz caught my eye, a question in hers, I shrugged. She didn’t believe me, Dad didn’t believe me, and both cops would string me up by my toes if given half the chance.

  Been there. Not my fault that time, either.

  This time, though, I’d fight. No one I knew was going to rescue me, and I was pretty sure Amber and Chelsea set me up. Let them and everyone else at that stupid party rot in hell.

  Sorry, Zach.

  Liz pointed at Kirk’s brick three-story house, surprising me. Liz was no snitch, either. “My guess is that the so-called tips came from girls at a party at that house. I would also guess that, unlike my sister, most of the kids at the party would not willingly agree to a drug or alcohol test.”

  Officer Lewis frowned as she pulled out her walkie-talkie and barked orders into it. Hearing “PBT” and “party” and “minors,” I grinned. So shoot me. Two cops hustled out of the patrol car farthest from us and took off across the street. To Kirk’s house.

  Officer Pole Up His Ass turned to me. “We’ll deal with that situation, but it doesn’t change the facts. There is a significant quantity of illegal drugs in this vehicle, and you’ve acknowledged that you were driving it.”

  “When I drove it to the party, there weren’t any drugs in it.” I waved a hand at the wrecked Jeep. “While I was at the party, someone bashed in the window, then obviously set me up by sticking drugs inside. You won’t find my fingerprints on the drugs. Or Lauren’s.”