Tears pool and I press my knuckles into my eyes. And just when I think it’s not like the movies in here, Jane walks in. Jane Hulmes, but with a reluctant air, lagging behind her mom and the guy from her driveway the night of Chris’s party. He’s thin, stiff suited, with Jane’s dark hair and eyes. Her mom’s a plump, pretty bleached blonde wearing too many layers for the spring and more than enough eyeliner rimming her eyes. Jane’s in a short black dress with her hair pulled into a low bun. Her eyes are blank, alternating her stare between straight ahead and the ground in front of her. I shrink a few inches lower in my seat.
Why on earth is she here? Mean girl with a heart of gold? An overwhelmingly guilty conscience? It must be the latter. If I feel bad, surely Belmont’s biggest bitch and Maisey’s nastiest critic must be rotting inside.
I “hmph” quietly. Too late on this one, Jane. Maybe next time.
They walk the aisle, and the eyes of Maisey’s parents quickly register their presence. A sudden flash of anger flashes in Mr. Morgan’s eyes. Mrs. Morgan sways and steps back.
They must have known what a bully Jane was.
Mr. Morgan lunges forward, stalking up to the Hulmes with such vengeance that I flinch. Collective gasps come from the mourners, seated and standing. Mrs. Morgan is frozen next to Maisey’s box, wringing her hands.
Mr. Morgan grabs the guy’s arm, spewing into his face, “Joe, you don’t belong here. The laws haven’t changed just because it’s a funeral. You have no right. No right. You’re an abomination.”
Mrs. Morgan steps up, her voice shakes. “Please leave before we notify the police.”
“I’m sorry,” the man mutters as he lowers his head and walks straight out without looking back. Mrs. Morgan turns to Jane and her mother. Jane’s head is down, her body shivering while her mom stands like a statue clasping Jane’s hand. Mrs. Morgan steps directly into Ms. Hulmes’s gaze. “You. You can leave with your husband.”
Ms. Hulmes shakes her head, chin quivering, tears falling from her eyes. “Please …”
Mr. Morgan puts his arm around his wife pulling her back, then addresses Ms. Hulmes as Jane studies the tops of her own shoes. “Janice, you need to go. Now.”
“Enough said, Charles. We’re leaving.”
“Oh jeez, let’s go too.” I poke Mom’s arm.
“Just hang on, it’d be rude to get up right now.” She rests her hand on my knee to stop me from rising.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say.
“Bree.” She presses harder on my knee.
“I’m serious. I promise. I’ll be right back.”
As I pass the window of the front doors, I see Ms. Hulmes and Joe walking back out into the parking lot. Jane isn’t behind them but three guys are at their heels as if making sure they’re leaving. Ms. Hulmes turns back toward the funeral home but the tallest guy blocks her as she argues, waving her hands around and pointing back my way. One of the guys turns and heads back as Jane’s mom and Joe are escorted to the black SUV from the other night. I step away from the door and head down the hallway looking for a restroom sign.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
I spin around and the tall guy from outside is waving me down.
“Um, yes?” I raise my eyebrows as my heart drops at the idea of being caught semi-eavesdropping.
“I hate to bother you but do you mind checking the ladies room for a small brunette in a black dress? Her name’s Jane.”
Uh, yeah, I do mind. I didn’t really want to see Jane here. “Sure, no problem. But I don’t know where the restrooms are.”
“Last door on the right. If she’s in there, please tell her to make it quick. Her ride’s in a hurry to leave.”
I push the bathroom door open, hoping to find it empty, but it’s not. Right away I notice Jane’s black heels and her voice echoing a whispered screech over a bathroom stall. “I’m not going back with you guys. I’ll find my own ride. I told you this was a bad idea. You’re so fucking delusional, Mom. No. I’m not getting back in the car with him. I have a ride. Just go. I’m hanging up now. Bye.”
I open the door again, and shake it a little and cough as I pretend to walk back in. “Hello? Is somebody in here? Jane?”
“Shit.” She whispers. “Hang on a second,” she calls out. A few seconds later, the stall door opens. Jane adjusts the thin black strap of a tiny black leather bag over her shoulder and speaks into her phone. “Hey, It’s me. I just texted you. I need you to pick me up from the SA gas station in about ten minutes. Call or text me as soon as you get this.”
She steps up to the sink and turns on the faucet. Her face is snide as hell as she yanks a towel to dry her hands. “What’re you doing here?”
“What do you think?”
Her lip twitches a little and she raises an eyebrow. “You just get here?” Her fear is way too easy to read. If I was half the asshole she is, I’d let her know the spectacle I just witnessed or at least make her sweat a little.
“Yep. Just got here. About to go pay my respects. What do you care?”
“No reason,” she exhales, relaxing just barely. “Well, whatever. This was––nothing. Forget it.”
She pushes past me and waltzes out the bathroom door.
“You didn’t even use soap,” I say to the door flapping past the frame.
A minute later I’m falling back into my chair next to Mom, silently processing the scene that just unfolded. When I watched Jane walk through the parking lot, the SUV was already gone.
“Let’s sit for a few more minutes or until Mrs. Morgan comes back so we can say good-bye,” Mom whispers.
Rifling through the junk in my purse, I’m checking my phone, watching the time, and hoping for a missed call or text from Sean. To add a bright shard of happy to this dark and mind-fucktacular day. For the next few minutes, people walk up and down the aisle like an assembly line of slow-moving head nodders, head shakers, and huggers. I’d feel like a zombie too, but my brain is way too busy for that. Finally, Mrs. Morgan returns, elbows locked with the lady who passed me the little flyer when me and Mom got here.
I slide my fingers beneath my eye to catch what I hope will be the last of today’s teardrops. Then I grab Mom’s hand and whisper, “Okay, please, can we go? I can’t take anymore. I need to go home.”
“Okay, yes. Let’s go.”
Mom swings by the gas station on our way home and asks me to run in and grab her a Diet Coke.
Sitting on a bench to the left of the door is Jane; knees locked, feet jutted out and her head in her hands.
I stroll through the door, eyes straight ahead, hoping she’s gone when I walk back out.
Aaaaaaand she’s not. Sigh. “Jane?”
Her head jerks up and she’s got two serious lines of black mascara running down each cheek. “You again? What?”
“Do you need a ride or something?” I ask.
“No, I don’t need any more of your fucking charity rides,” she says glancing down at her phone and clicks it a couple times.
“What’s your problem? You’re obviously stranded because you didn’t want to ride with your mom and dad or whoever those people were.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Someone’s picking me up any minute now so if you’d pull your head out of my biz-nass that’d be great.”
Glancing back at my mom waiting in the car, I consider my options. In spite of the world’s bitchiest tone, Jane’s eyes bleed desperation. Whatever was going on at the funeral home has freaked her out. Jane is the last person I’d ever expect to lose her shit, but she’s definitely on the edge.
“Really? It doesn’t look like it. We can drop you off somewhere else to wait if you want?”
“What do you care if I …” her voice trails off as she clicks through her phone again. “I mean, thanks for the offer and I can probably just—”
“Just come on.”
And she does. She follows me to Mom’s car and hops in the backseat without a word.
Mom ra
ises an eyebrow as she grabs the pop from my hand.
“This is Jane, from school, she needs a ride home if that’s okay.”
“Actually I can’t,” Jane’s voice cracks, “go home. I mean, I’m not going home and if you don’t mind, the coffee shop or diner would work better. If it’s okay?”
“No problem,” says Mom. “It’s on our way.”
Jane’s phone doesn’t ring the whole way there although she makes a series of about two hundred thirty-eight unanswered calls. When we drop her off she tells my mom thanks but doesn’t look my way.
“Poor girl,” says Mom. “I can’t believe her parents left without her in all that drama.”
Yep, poor little bitch girl. “Yeah, poor Jane. Let’s go home now. I just want to curl up in my bed.”
SEVENTEEN
Sorry you’re still sick. You missed out on Tuna Melt Tuesday,” says Sean.
“Tuna melts,” I say. “Yeah, I’m going to pass on being sad about missing TMT. Tuna shouldn’t be allowed anywhere but the ocean. The smell would’ve made me worse. Hopefully I’ll be better by tomorrow.”
“Hope so. That’s what you said yesterday and I ended up crying over my desk ’cause I didn’t have you breathing on me in Norderick’s class.”
“Crying, huh?”
“Almost.”
“I don’t breathe on you.” A short laugh falls from my lips.
“Guess it’s better you don’t breathe on me if you’re sick, right?”
“I’ll be fine by tomorrow. It’s just a virus. Something my mom picked up from those little germ hoarders from her school.”
“You sure I can’t come by? I could bring you soup or crayons?”
“Crayons?” I twirl the drawstring of the pilly gray sweats I’ve had on since Sunday night.
“When I was little and I’d get sick, my mom would make soup and my dad would bring me home a new coloring book.”
“That’s cute. Thanks, but I’m fine. I don’t want you to catch anything and I’m still really tired.” Really tired and sad. Plus, I haven’t showered since Sunday.
“All right, but if you’re not back by tomorrow, I’m going to climb a ladder into your window. I’m not afraid of your germs.”
“Okay, you’ve got a deal.”
I hang up, slide the phone to the other side of my bed, and pull my pillow into the curve of my neck. I grind my fist into the mattress, wishing the thought of being back in school dealing with people again didn’t feel so heavy, like so much work.
My phone buzzes my eyes back open about an hour later.
SEAN MILLS.
Just wanted to say good night.
I smile and write back, G’night. : )
I get that liquid rush feeling through my veins, just remembering Sean’s kiss and his hand on my neck. I fall asleep, thoughts of Maisey fading out and focusing, instead, on the memory of Sean’s lips sliding into mine, warming my body beneath my sheets.
****
Wednesday morning eventually creeps into my room and just opening my eyes feels like a major feat. The alarm blares and Mom’s words from the night before ring just as loud, “You’re going to school tomorrow or I’m bringing you to the doctor.”
I pull myself out of bed and into the shower for the first time since the wake. After scrubbing my face, my shower caddy unsuctions from the wall, spilling everything onto the floor. In defeat, I slide down onto the warmed tiles, letting the scalding water run over my knees. I grab my razor from the floor, not even trying to shake the image of what Maisey might’ve looked like on her last day. Was this how she did it? I slide the pad of my middle finger over the razor’s smooth edge, tears springing to my eyes. The pain in Mom’s eyes as she’d gripped my hand on the Morgans’ doorstep and at the funeral parlor. She didn’t say it but I knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t handle losing me. If Maisey’s parents were ever okay before this, I can’t imagine that they’ll ever be okay again. I think of Anne and Tera, sitting as two in the library after school, instead of the trio they once were. They’ll never be the same, either.
I wonder if they both got letters from Maisey. Did they read them right away or are they like me? Afraid of knowing the truth about the kind of pain that could kill you Afraid of finding out if it really is all my fault.
Once the water runs lukewarm, I rise. Fake it ’til you make it. I got this.
When I get to my locker at school, Sean’s leaned up against it, a smile spreading on his face that I can’t help but return.
“Hey, you made it.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers along my wrist.
“Yep. I’m all clear, still a little tired but totally not contagious.”
The warning bell rings, lockers slam, kids start pushing and piling toward the halls as Sean leans in and kisses me on the mouth. His lips linger long enough to make me want to go back home and cuddle up in bed, this time bringing him with me.
Maisey’s empty chair in last period, untouched like a plague, is another cold reminder of her absence—like the rumors, unraveling in the hallways.
Kallie nods toward the empty seat and starts with the same rumor Kendall had brought up at lunch. “Did you hear that her sister found her naked in the bathtub? I’m sure it’s not true but like, who’s saying this shit?”
I cringe. “I don’t know, but as long as we’re willing to listen, why not just keep making the stories crazier and crazier?”
“Right. People are sick.”
Justin leans in, “I heard her friend Anne and the private-school-looking girl are going to pull a double suicide at Prom.”
“Sure,” says Sean. “But only if you do it first, Conner.”
Shandy shushes us over her shoulder.
“Did she just shush us?” Kallie asks loud enough for her to hear. “Class hasn’t even started yet. Simmer down, Shandy. No one’s going to ruin your Prom.”
Shandy rolls her eyes and jerks back around.
Sean sets his hand on my desk just as Nord starts tapping his highlighter. “Call me tonight,” he says. “Maybe we can grab dinner or go study?”
“Sure,” I say, pulling the edges of my mouth into a smile. He turns back in his seat as I nurse the anxiety in my gut. Half of me wants to spend any second I can with him and the other half wants to roll into a ball in my bed and sleep until tomorrow.
EIGHTEEN
What about this one?” Kallie asks, rifling through a rack of dresses at Main Street Formals, Belmont’s only option for formal wear.
I shake my head. “Nothing red. That’s too showy for me.”
“Hey! My dress is red.” Kallie swats my arm with the dress hanger.
“Exactly. I don’t wanna show you up.”
“I wonder what colors the other girls are wearing. Maybe we should check. I ordered mine online, but if anyone even comes close to matching me—”
“You sound like one of them. You’re scaring me, Kal.” I laugh.
“Just grab at least one more dress to try on. I cannot believe you’ve waited this long. When you’re on Prom Court you have to represent. Plus, Sean Mills. How crazy is that? If anyone would’ve told us last year that we’d be up for Prom Queens and our dates are the hottest guys in school, we’d have laughed our asses off.”
“I wish I’d have known. I would’ve been able to hold out and skip the whole ‘Chip Ryan’ debacle. Yeesh!” I grab a couple dresses off the rack and we head into the dressing room. Two black dresses and one silver. As I’m holding up the embellished top of a short, shiny black number, Kallie strains to zip me up. The zipper pinches me right as we hear the bing bong of the store’s front door.
“Ouch!” I flinch.
“Oops, sorry,” Kallie says.
A familiar voice takes over the whole shop.
“I cannot believe you stood me up last night. You said as soon as you dropped her off, you’d be over.”
No question about it. The high, sharp, on the edge tone belongs to Jane. I don’t have to guess who she’s talking
to. Kallie and I stare at each other like we’ve driven over a dead skunk pile.
Kallie tugs the zipper to the top. Her reflection behind me scowls. “Ew, what’s she doing here? There’s no way she doesn’t already have her dress.” We both peek our heads out of the curtain.
“Shut up for a second,” Jane spits into the phone, then moves it away from her face to address the sales lady. “I’m here for a pickup. I have a pageant dress that should be ready and a Prom dress here for alterations, so if you can check on that too. Last name is Hulmes.”
The lady nods and disappears behind a set of double doors. Jane gets back to her phone, “You took her to dinner last night so it shouldn’t be tough to cancel tonight. I can’t keep doing this. You promised we’d start spending more time together. Figure your shit out and call me back.” Jane sighs and hangs up the phone, wiping an angry tear off her cheek.
Kallie’s cheeks flush with a warm pink Her facial expression goes from livid to embarrassed to … nothing.
“I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” She races through the curtain and disappears. Jane stands at the counter tapping her foot, oblivious to her eavesdroppers.
Buzzzz. Buzzzz. Kallie’s phone vibrates from the top of her purse. A flash of light highlights a text on her oversized screen.
TODD.
Hey Lover, don’t hate me but I have to babysit my cousins tonight—just found out! I’ll try to come by ur house after! XOXO-TDubs
Lover? T Dubs? Ugh. What a douche bag. Actually, a douche bag is too good for him. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near vaginas. Todd White is an enema bag. At least I’m here for Kallie and hopefully I won’t need to hold her back from fighting Jane.
Liars and Losers Like Us Page 13
