“We all go shower and change,” he whispered. “And meet you at the dance.”
“See you there. Here’s your jacket.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t match my shoes,” she joked. He laughed, a surprisingly dorky laugh for such a popular guy.
She walked again in silence towards the school, in the dark, yards away from other groups of people trekking back to the gym. She did not feel alone this time. She felt like someone was watching her.
Once the heavy door to the gym finally opened, and the warm air, the colors, and the music hit her in the face, , she felt better. Someone helped push the giant thing open for her. Stepping inside, she smiled to see Mr. Garrett, looking sharp with his hair brushed back in a suit.
“Hey, Mr. Garrett,” she smiled.
“Hello, Margaret.”
“You look dapper,” she told him.
“And you look beautiful.” She blinked in surprise at his strong language. Mr. Garrett only picked adjectives deliberately.
“Chaperoning, or you just like to dance to bad music and drink punch?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare drink the punch.”
“Well, I am parched.” She nodded as she passed him.
His big hand caught her elbow very lightly. “Maggie, be careful, alright?”
“Sure,” she said slowly. Of course he meant the normal dangers of high school: drinking, driving, unruly boys, and unattended drinks. He couldn’t have meant anything else.
She went to the bathroom to check herself. Hair was amazingly still in place. She tried to patch her makeup but had no idea what she was doing. She looked as good as she was going to look, she figured, so she walked back into the gym to see if everyone was back. She bumped into séance girl.
“Oh, sorry. Anna!” She spotted the girl’s hands, her shirt. She was covered in blood. “Oh my god, what happened?”
“What?” Anna blinked.
“The blood!”
“Oh, it’s just for my bull statue, you know, wanted to add some fresh.”
Maggie slapped herself in the face. The fake blood, of course. “Yeah. Crap. I forgot.” She lowered her voice. “Hey, I thought you were doing the, the thing, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m going now. Not a dance kind of girl. You want to come?” she asked slowly, giving Maggie a skeptical look.
“Pft. Yeah, are you kidding me? I’d do anything to get out of these heels, but I kinda promised someone so, you know.” She shrugged. Anna loosened up, smiled a little.
“I’ll fill you in on Monday.”
“Good luck. Be careful.” She wasn’t entirely sure if séances were dangerous, but if horror movies were anything to go off of, they could go very wrong.
“Yeah, you be careful too.” Maggie really wished people would stop telling her that.
As she re-entered the dance properly, she wanted her nerves to be because of her first dance. She wanted to be worrying about what her date would think of what she was wearing, preoccupied with whether she would have enough friends to not be standing awkwardly alone at the punch. But instead, she was worrying about a dead girl. Worrying about if she should be worried for herself.
And who did she glimpse first? Amanda. Sitting in the center of the room under a light, crown on one corner and sash across, sat the poster she had made.
She turned away from it, sick of it already.
“Did you know she was going to do that?” Mazy was standing behind Maggie, her hair fixed differently, arms crossed and face sour.
“No. I just helped make it. She said she liked my collage,” Maggie replied honestly.
“Did she tell you it was rigged for Amanda to win?”
Maggie shook her head. “I would have warned you.”
“It wasn’t fair.” The cheerleader almost stamped her foot.
“No. It sucked,” Mags conceded. Mazy looked pleased someone agreed with her. “But she was just trying to be a good friend. She doesn’t want people to forget her so quickly.”
“Yeah, right. She’s just trying to guilt whoever might know something into saying something.”
“Think it will work?”
Mazy gave her an odd look, cocking her head like a puppy. “No. Do you?”
“I guess not. Could have been anyone.”
Mazy looked out at the dance floor thoughtfully. “She just feels bad.”
“Why?” Maggie asked, winded.
Mazy looked at her. “Becca wasn’t with her.” Mazy said quietly. “She didn’t know where Amanda was, and no one could reach Becca at first…she found out later.”
“Oh.”
“Well, it was a good memorial,” Mazy admitted as the music changed to something dance-friendly. “If I die, will you make one for me?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Well, no one expected it to happen to Amanda. Could happen to anyone.” Mazy walked off toward the boys as they entered. Maggie waited where she was, trying to process yet another cryptic Mazy comment. She also did not feel like pushing her way to Tyler again. She could wait for him to come to her.
“Thanks so much for all your help! I think this all turned out great.” Sarah looked even better made up. She had even changed into a slinky silver dress.
“Yeah it did. You look fabulous. Sorry about the queen thing.”
She flipped her blonde hair back, nonchalant. “It’s just a crown. Becca’s right; Amanda would have won. I guess I just didn’t want any more reminders tonight.” It was the first time Sarah had let herself sound sad in front of Maggie. “Becca just doesn’t feel like we’re allowed to be happy or we’re rubbing it in her face. We have to grieve every minute or we don’t miss her enough. But that’s not how it works. I lost my mom…and that’s just not… how it works.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“What about your dad?”
“Oh, he’s not dead.”
“Well, he’s gone. There’s grieving too. But Amanda wasn’t like that.” She turned, trying to make Maggie hear her, her pretty eyes glittering. “She wanted people to be happy. All the time.”
Mags thought about that. Would Amanda still feel that way? Even after what happened to her? Or was she angry enough to create a tornado? Would she want her boyfriend to be happy? What about a girl she didn’t even know?
Maggie felt it wasn’t fair that Sarah, who worked so hard and stayed so strong should lose to her dead friend and spend her dance crying, so she struggled with the hardest task she’d faced: saying the right thing.
“You know something? I’ve never been to a homecoming dance before. Ever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I never really got into it.” She shrugged, looking up at all the lights, like a meteor shower. “But this is tasteful. And you’ve been really friendly. I’ve actually had an okay first week here.”
“Even with the tornado and detention?”
“Yeah,” she laughed.
“Your past schools must have been rough,” Sarah laughed too, a little wet.
“Well anyway, thanks.” Maggie looked at her shoes.
“You’re welcome.” Sarah’s neatly manicured nails brushed Maggie’s arm. “I mean that. Have fun tonight.” There. That sounded much better than ‘be careful.’ Smiling, the blonde brushed past to check on something or another. Sarah would have everything under control, as always, Maggie knew.
For a moment, enveloped in familiar music and dancing lights pouring down on her, Maggie thought about those words: you are welcome.
Clashing with her Zen moment, a half-slow rock song that wasn’t too bad came on. It was a little old, but it was a guilty pleasure nonetheless. Tyler swept her into his arms, one hand on her hip, one on her hand like a ballroom gentleman, which of course he was not, and led them quickly and smoothly to the floor. He made people giggle.
“You’re less sweaty,” she observed.
“Why thank you, Lady Margaret.”
“Are you ever serious?” she laughed.
“Yes.” He put his cheek gently to hers and spun them. She didn’t really have to do anything but try to keep up. The tempo was not totally easy but they could mostly glide around, turning circles, rocking, without being awkwardly close. “My brother,” he said into her ear. “He likes you.”
“Then aren’t you breaking some sort of boy code?”
“I’m helping him realize it sooner. Tommy takes his time. So maybe I’m having a little fun doing it…” He spun her in a circle with his hand and pulled her back against him, cleverly concealing her almost stumble as he did so. Facing out, she blushed, but was able to say what she would never say to his face.
“You know, everywhere I go, there’s a Mark.” He looked at her face close to his, curious. “There’s a Mazy, a Sarah, but I don’t think I’ve ever met a Tyler.”
“Are you flirting with me, Mags?”
“God, no. I’m just being honest.”
“So I’m one in a million, huh?” He spun her around closer, standing behind her, letting her lead.
“Well,” she turned as gracefully as she could manage, letting her dress twirl with her hand up on his tall shoulder, waiting for the bass to drop. In perfect sync, they sort of dipped. “Maybe one in ten thousand or so.”
Hip hop love song wasn’t Tyler’s style. He began dancing ridiculously with the kicker, Sean, she recalled. Maggie laughed with the others and was about to walk away when Mazy grabbed her arm. “Dance with me!” she shouted above the music. Feeling silly, Maggie did. She didn’t feel silly any longer. She felt, well, hot, her hips swinging, hair flying. Mazy and she were back-to-back; she spun smoothly, her temperature rising from dancing so much.
Mark was standing in front of her, staring her down, not moving at all. She froze. He stepped forward.
“Dance with us, Mark,” Mazy invited, oblivious. His strange look continued. It wasn’t quite rage.
He stepped forward. Without warning, he took both of Maggie’s arms. It didn’t hurt, but it threw her into a panic. She gasped.
“Mark, what the hell?” she heard Mazy ask, but she was far away. They were up on that ledge again. Alone.
“Mark?” Tyler asked, cautious, stepping into view. As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Mark let go, breathed out. He brushed his hair in his fingertips.
“Maggie, I wanted to explain. It’s not what you think.” Maggie was confused. Mark was standing in front of her. But the pain came from behind. A jerk to the back of her head.
Again, she turned. This time it was Ashley converging on her, with a very curly-headed friend in tow. And boy, was she crazy Ashley then. The hand rose and came at Maggie’s face just in time for her to see it. In her past school-lives, she should have been one to get in fights, she thought. Just once. She might have known how to stop it stinging her face.
Maggie didn’t know if she was the type to hit back, as the sting of the hand rang in her ears like after an explosion. But she wasn’t going to find out then. There wasn’t any time.
Mark and Tyler moved forward at once, but even they weren’t as fast and nimble as Mazy. Mazy launched herself on the girl. Mark grabbed Mazy without effort, lifting her entire body off the floor by the waist, but she screamed over the music.
“You stay the hell away from my friends, or I will kill you. I will fucking kill you, you psycho.” She tore at Mark’s hands like an animal, moving with more energy than Maggie thought could be physically contained in such a small individual. She made a half-mad growl.
“Tyler!” Maggie found her voice, but couldn’t make a coherent statement yet. “My date is Tyler,” she told Ashley.
“I told you she was crazy,” Mark stressed in the background.
“Ashley Monroe, you really have gone off your rocker,” Tyler spat. “You’re even worse now that your nemesis is gone.” Ashley opened and shut her mouth, spun on her heel, and ran. She did not get far, colliding with a suit and bowtie. Mr. Garrett.
“Are you two fighting again?” he demanded of her and Mazy. Mark set Mazy down.
“No,” Maggie blurted. “It was me.”
“Ashley just attacked her!” Mazy snapped.
“So you hit Ms. Brennan?” Mr. Garrett demanded. His angry face was not one most people could lie to, and Ashley clearly looked guilty.
“She tried,” Maggie lied. Everyone stopped, staring at her. “It was a misunderstanding. Mark was saying something to me, and Ashley thought we were dancing. She got angry, Mazy tried to defend me. Nothing happened; it was a misunderstanding.”
“So…you weren’t hit?” Mr. Garrett asked. No one understood why she was lying, their faces said. Their mouths were open, silent, eyes wide, glancing to one another. She needed to talk to Ashley. She either was M or knew who probably was. If Maggie got her suspended, that would be much harder. Besides, in a way, it was a misunderstanding. It just looked like she had been dancing with Mark, and after all, Maggie had said Ashley could hit her if Mark was her date.
Maggie’s brain was catching up slowly, stunned by the collision to her face. Mazy had flipped out, gotten so violent she had made the whole school stop, and even Mark struggled to hold her back. If Amanda had crossed Mazy, she could have killed her. Or if she was jealous, she could have set her up like she did Ashley.
Then there was Ashley. Ashley Monroe. She was another possible M, and according to what Tyler had just said, Amanda was her archenemy. Recently, she’d gotten violent and unpredictable, or so Mark had warned them.
But there was also Mark, who was violent and creepy himself since Amanda’s death. Had Amanda rejected him? Incurred his wrath?
And strangely enough, there sat Amanda. Her face smiling a dozen times from the frames.
Everyone was staring at Maggie. Just like days ago when they had glared at her taking Amanda’s locker, now they balked at her in the middle of the dance. Becca approached the scene, then another teacher. Mags cursed her ruined makeup and the first hot tear fell over, down her artfully decorated face. She was even more humiliated then, so hot with it she thought she might be sick.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. “Misunderstanding.” She looked directly at Ashley, voice deep and hard, as if to communicate, ‘You owe me.’
Ashley nodded. “Well,” Mr. Garrett reluctantly agreed. “It’s your business.” He echoed her earlier sentiment with a knowing nod and backed away as Ashley and her curly-haired crony left.
“You okay?” Tyler asked. Maggie turned to say thanks to him for intervening, but someone else appeared— someone shorter, voice and face strained with worry.
“Margaret, are you okay?” Tommy asked.
“Fine. Not the first time.” She recalled that first day where the bully had forced a fist into her gut for no reason. Again, she fought the burning in her eyes as people looked at her with pity.
“Your old schools really were rough,” Sarah joked, appearing.
“Let’s get you a drink.” Tommy pulled her away by the wrist. She was so grateful.
He poured punch angrily, if there was an angry way to pour punch. He even drank it with fury.
She hid her face behind her glass, pressing the cool surface to her cheeks. She stared into the moving people and lights, missing her favorite song and trying to forget the debacle that had just occurred. She caught him looking at her.
“Tommy, you came.” Becca swooped in inconveniently, with none other than Mark in tow.
“Yeah, I wanted to see the poster.” It sounded like a lie. Maggie raised an eyebrow.
“Isn’t it great? Maggie put it together.”
“You did?” He did not sound thrilled.
She shrugged. “Becca saw my collage at home and asked me to help—“ But Becca cut short her explanation, anxious for something Mark-related. It was now pretty clear to Maggie that her new friend was trying to hook her up with Mark. Probably her idea all along, to keep her away from Tommy.
“Look, I want you two to sort this out, okay? Dance it out.”
�
�Becca,” Maggie began to protest. She still had not had a chance to talk to her alone.
“It’s better than hugging it out. Safer too, with his muscles. Go on.” She literally shoved them onto the dance floor.
With a huff, Maggie put her hands on Mark’s shoulders, which was a considerable distance to reach, and she resented every inch of it.
He kept his hands as lightly as possible on her ribs. She tried to ignore the fact that moments ago he’d snapped a young man’s ribs through his protective suit and all he needed to do was squeeze hard to pop her. She also tried to ignore his sweet eyes and clean boyish haircut, the face of the nervous Mark that played darts and gave her his uncle’s nachos.
“I’m so sorry for what I did, Maggie,” he blurted at last. His repentance sounded so sincere, she wondered if perhaps he was confessing his guilt about more than their date. For a long moment, he just gave her a significant look as she wished hard that someone would come out and say something directly.
“I wasn’t going to—I didn’t mean anything by it…up there. I’ve just been...” He trailed off, swaying (mostly) to the music. He wasn’t as good a dancer as Tyler, but he smelled nice and his strong arms could be oddly comforting for something so dangerous.
Could she ask him about the note? Just say: Mark did you find a note I dropped? Just say it!
“Mark...”
“Yeah?”
She chickened out. “Dance with Sarah.”
“What?” He was completely oblivious, as she suspected.
“Sarah. Dance with her. I’m not saying it again.”
“Are you sure? Sarah’s, well, she’s—”
“Amazing? Yep. And for some reason she’s quietly interested in you and you seem to ask out every girl but her.”
“I wouldn’t know how to impress Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Don’t drive her anywhere creepy.”
Mark smiled tentatively at the joke.
Maggie relaxed as she stepped away, not realizing how tense Mark made her. As nice as he could be, and no matter who thought she was overreacting, on that evening up at the peak, he had been scary.
She waded into a crowd of strangers, copying their movements for a minute, letting her mind float away. They had already moved on from the scene a few minutes prior. She was blissfully invisible again.
Keep Your Friends Close Page 13