Yeah, I’m feeling pretty smug. Except when Jesse flips on the bedroom light and I realize I’ve left Drake a door away from Cara.
Okay, he’s sleazy, but he’s not that sleazy.
He can’t be.
I send him a quick text reminding him to meet me at my car, and threatening his manhood if he so much as touches Cara with a stick. He doesn’t reply, but I’m sure he got the message. One time he stopped in the middle of sex to answer a text.
Jesse sits down next to Kennedy, complimenting her bright pink party dress. I lean in, listening.
“I look like crap,” she counters. She’s a little calmer now that she’s away from the craziness. Maybe she’s not as drunk as she seemed. That’s okay, I decide. Getting answers from her when she’s wasted feels a little too much like Drake scamming on Cara. Not the same thing, sure, but still dirty.
Says the girl crouched in the closet.
Jesse touches Kennedy’s hair. “You’re full of shit.”
She giggles, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You did?”
Jesse looks at her, frowning. I can just make out the curve of his lips through the slats in the door. “I heard something bad.”
“Good-bad?” she suggests.
He shakes his head.
“What is it?” Her voice is a gushing whisper, like her life depends on his answer. I guess when reputation is all you have, well . . . it’s all you have.
“Something about Lizzie,” he says.
“You know how I feel about—”
“Something about Lizzie’s car.”
“Oh. Shit.”
He scoots away from her. I can hear it better than I can see it. “It’s true then.”
“Look, they didn’t mean it,” she says, gesticulating wildly. “They were just being stupid.”
“They? Who are they?” He holds up a hand. “The rumor is about you.”
“Me? No, no, no. That’s bullshit. You heard wrong.”
“You sure about that?”
“You know me, Jesse. You know how I feel about her. That family.”
What about Lizzie’s family? There’s venom in her voice I’ve never heard.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He glances nervously at the closet.
At me?
“I would never do that,” Kennedy says. Her voice is pleading. “I would never even draw attention to— What exactly did you hear?”
“Pretty much you, on your hands and knees, in front of Lizzie’s car.”
“I was on my hands and knees, yes, but not in front of—” She stops. “Sorry. Not the time for joking?”
“I don’t mind.” He sounds amicable enough. I can tell he believes her. Or he wants to believe her. Sometimes there’s not much of a difference.
“Look,” she says, leaning into him again, “if I tell you, will you promise to be discreet? If people find out who wrote on that car, things could get really ugly.”
Good. That’s the idea.
Jesse hesitates. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. I only promised Kennedy immunity because I had to. I said nothing about her accomplices.
Still, he can’t stop her now without raising suspicion. “I won’t tell anybody,” he says in a low voice.
“The girls did it. Cara and Elliot. They did it for me.”
“What?”
“No, not for me. I didn’t tell them to. They did it because they know how I feel about her. How I felt. They thought they were doing a good thing, like I was going to give them a cookie or something.”
“So you didn’t have anything to do with it? You didn’t even go near the car?”
“I went to clean up after them,” she snaps. Clearly she doesn’t respond well to accusations. “I didn’t want people seeing that. It’s beneath us.”
“Apparently not.”
“Hey, I tried my best.”
“Her car was covered when people got to school. Your best seems kind of—”
“I got caught!”
“By who?”
“Some dork with a sketchpad.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. That blond hair flies out around her, like dandelion spores before they’ve taken to the wind. “He was too far away.”
“So you bolted?”
“Yes, I bolted! The guy was a creeper! I think he pulled out his phone.” She lowers her voice. “Think of what he could do with a picture of me next to that car. Print out copies and pass it around?”
Oh God. What are the chances the guy peeping on Kennedy with a sketchpad isn’t the guy who sketched the imitation playing card of Lizzie?
Or imitation Alchemy card, I think, remembering Marvin’s hurry to hide those cards from me.
For a moment, I imagine my heart is covered with scars. Here, a crack for Shelby. There, a slash for Marvin. A little X for Elliot and Cara. A gaping wound for Lizzie.
Jesse’s words bring me back. “At least you tried,” he tells Kennedy.
“I had to try.” She inhales slowly. “When they told me what they did, it made me realize how messed up it was to blame her for what happened.”
“It’s okay,” Jesse says, and I can feel his gaze on me. I wish I could move this damn shirt that’s dangling in my face. Slowly, carefully, I reach up and slide it to the left.
The hanger gives a screech.
I freeze, holding my breath. We’ve come too far to mess up everything with this nightmare of a paisley shirt. I curse Cara for buying something so ugly. I curse myself for getting into this situation.
But Kennedy doesn’t even look my way. She’s too busy blinking furiously. Her teeth are attacking her lip. “It’s not okay,” she says, swallowing. “You should’ve heard the way I chewed them out.” She lowers her head to her hands. “I’ve been so mad for so long. I hated him.”
Him?
“It’s okay,” Jesse says again. His hands are fidgeting. He doesn’t want her to talk about this here.
But I do. I really do.
“I guess I hated her too,” says Kennedy. “I just wanted . . . I didn’t want to hurt them. But—”
“I know.” He keeps trying to cut her off, but short of covering her mouth, he’s helpless.
The words are spilling out of her. “I didn’t want to know they existed. I just wanted them to disappear. And then she died, and I felt like—”
“You didn’t cause it.”
“I didn’t help!” She lifts her head. Her mascara is smeared. I have never, ever seen Kennedy cry.
It’s horrifying.
Jesse’s looking in my direction more and more and I want to yell at him to stop it. Of course, that would be counterproductive.
This time she notices. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t think we should talk about this here. Anybody could come in—”
“From the closet? Are you worried about monsters?”
“N-no.” He gestures to the bedroom door. “I just think—I feel like—”
Oh no. He’s losing it. Mayday! Mayday! Someone please intercept . . .
“I am sick to death of keeping quiet,” says Kennedy. “The one time I want to talk about it—”
“I know, sweetie. I know.” He reaches over and touches her face. She’s mesmerized, temporarily. Then he leans in and kisses her cheek, close to her lips.
Now my heart is pounding like I’m being chased. Or like I’m missing something. Or like I know too much to process.
Jesse pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I just don’t trust people here,” he says. “You can talk to me anytime.”
“I know.” She nods, watching him. “I’m sorry I lost it.”
“You didn’t. It’s fine.”
“I think I need to get out of here.”
“I’ll call you a cab.”
“I’m fine,” she says, standing. But it takes her two tries, and
that doesn’t help her case.
“Fine is putting it mildly,” Jesse jokes. “That’s why I don’t want you messing up your pretty face.”
“Okay.” She laughs, despite herself. “Fine. You take good care of me.”
He slides an arm around her waist. “It’s easy.”
They’re halfway across the room when Drake decides to text me back.
And, yes, I did forget to put my phone on silent.
fifteen
KENNEDY FLINGS OPEN the closet doors. Cara’s room unfolds like a purple explosion. Her walls are lilac, her comforter’s so dark it’s almost black, and a dozen violet and plum pillows cover her bed. Cara’s a modern-day princess.
And Kennedy’s a queen who wants my head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands.
I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m royally screwed.
Even worse, I’ve screwed Jesse. I have to find a way out of this.
“Did you plan this?” Kennedy’s eyes are all fire, flicking from me to him. Her mouth is so big it could swallow us both.
I rise to my feet. “How dare you,” I snarl at Jesse, widening my eyes for half a second to warn him.
“Wh-what?” he says. I can tell part of him is terrified. But the other part wants to see where I’m going with this.
Bless his curiosity.
I stomp out of the closet, lightly pushing his chest. “You told me you wanted to come here with me.”
“What?” Kennedy says.
I ignore her. “You said you wanted to dance with me. And then you disappear and I track you down with this . . . this . . .”
“Go on,” she challenges.
“She’s so typical,” I shriek. “So obvious. Is that what you want?”
Jesse shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You know he’s gay, right?” Kennedy holds out an arm to separate us. “What happened to you, Angie?”
“I made a mistake,” I say, slapping her arm away. Yeah, I’m risking getting punched here, but it’s worth it. I’ve never played complete psycho before. It’s kind of comforting to have no boundaries. “I actually believed you liked me.”
Jesse opens his mouth but I cut him off.
“And now I find you kissing her when you’re supposed to be here with me?”
“That was a friend kiss,” Jesse insists. “Kennedy and I are friends. Like you and me . . .”
“Oh sure, that’s why you made cookies with me. At my house.”
“You went to her house?” Now Kennedy’s staring at him.
“That’s why you called me baby.” Okay, I’m drawing on real experiences now but only to make it sound genuine. It’s not because I actually felt close to him in certain moments. That would be ridiculous.
Kennedy’s hands go to her hips. “You called her baby?” She huffs. “You never said that to me.”
“Please,” Jesse drawls, all flair and sass: something he does, I’ve noticed, not when he’s comfortable but when he’s cornered. “I call you that all the time, honey. You need to open your ears.” He turns to face me and, because Kennedy can’t see it, winks. “You’re a psycho.”
I hold a hand to my lips. “Don’t say that.”
“You hid in here to listen to me?”
“Of course not.” I shake my head like he’s being dramatic. “Cara said I could borrow a sweater, so I came up here to get one. Then I heard you coming in the door, and I closed the closet to see if you were cheating on me. I had every right, because look at what you’re doing! So you can’t say—”
“Cheating? Honey, are you delusional? I just—I can’t—” He flings his hands in the air. “I need to get out of here.”
“Oh, sure, run away from our problems,” I shout after him. He’s taken hold of Kennedy’s arm and is leading her out of the room. “This won’t just go away!”
I tromp after them. Already they’re halfway down the stairs. “Call me?” I yell as they disappear into the crowd.
My heart is racing.
Another text comes in. I pause to check my phone. Drake’s first message says, “What the hell?” His second says, “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
That reminds me. I check on Cara before heading downstairs. She’s sleeping soundly on her parents’ bed. The blanket is just as I left it. I take that as a good sign. Still, when I see Elliot dancing in the living room, I tell her Cara’s passed out in the master bedroom. She seems sober enough to keep an eye on things.
Outside, the cold air is a pleasant relief for my too-hot skin. I feel itchy, like you do after rolling in grass. From the porch, I can see Jesse getting into a cab with Kennedy. I guess there really wasn’t any way for us to leave together after my little outburst.
Little. Right. That performance should get me an Emmy.
Drake is still waiting for me by my car. I can’t believe it. He starts to stammer as I approach. He’s shivering from the cold. I walk right by without saying a word and get into the driver’s seat.
He has to jump back when I pull away from the curb.
The motion of the car is soothing to my nerves. The exhaustion hits me all at once. My body and brain are conspiring to make me fall asleep. I flip on the radio to keep me company. The drive isn’t that long.
I’ve made it through worse.
Because I have the radio blaring, I almost miss it when the text comes in.
It’s Jesse. He says, “You were amazing,” just as I pull into my mom’s driveway.
Suddenly I’m wide awake. I write back, “You were better.”
My heart drops when he doesn’t respond right away. I’ve been sitting in my car for several minutes when he texts, “I miss you, spy-buddy.”
It takes two seconds for my brain to fill up with the words, No, no, don’t you dare, but only one second to hit send.
“Come over,” my message says.
“I TOTALLY JUST snuck out” is the first thing he says when he gets to my house. He’s grinning from ear to ear. I bet it’s the first time he’s snuck out in his entire life.
“You won’t have to sneak in,” I reply, ushering him inside. Mom’s lounging on the couch, half-awake. I haven’t warned her that we’re having company.
I’m such a naughty kid.
Jesse creeps in. He’s changed into jeans and a jacket, with this long embroidered scarf wrapped around him, like, a hundred times. He looks contained.
“Come on,” I tell him.
Mom opens her eyes. “Honey?”
“Don’t get up,” I say.
Her eyes drift to Jesse. She’s sitting up in an instant. “Oh my God. Is that Vera Barbatelle?”
He touches his scarf. “Fake.”
“Nice replica.” She’s eyeing it hungrily.
“Let’s not rip the clothing off our guests,” I say.
“Elizabeth made it for me,” says Jesse.
Lizzie?
Mother nods. “She was an amazing seamstress.”
“We’re going upstairs,” I say.
Jesse eyes me like, The truth? Really?
Mom smiles sleepily, sinking back into the couch. “ ’Night, honey.”
“Nice meeting you,” Jesse says.
“Mmm.” She’s already drifting.
We hurry up the stairs like little kids. By the time we reach my room we’re both giggling. I’m not even sure why. I feel like we’re getting away with something, like we keep getting away with things. I hope our good luck continues.
That’d be a nice change.
Jesse sits in my desk chair this time, draping his jacket over the back. Is he trying to keep his distance from me? If playing a crazy person has taught me anything, it’s how uncool it would be to do anything to make him uncomfortable. I sit cross-legged on the middle of my bed, giving him more space.
“I had fun tonight,” he says.
“Really?” I had fun too, but I feel like I need to hear him say it again. Like maybe he’s just trying to be nice.
“Hel
l yeah. Don’t get me wrong; your jealous-girlfriend bit is scary as hell. But after I cleaned the piss off my pants, I was—”
“Golden?” I suggest.
He grins. “Thanks for covering for me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I so did.”
“Naw. But it was cool of you.”
“That’s me. Super cool.” I stare at him a long moment. “We sure got a lot of information.”
He nods.
“Then you know what I want to ask.”
He sighs. “You know I can’t answer,” he says, and he’s not looking at me. I wonder if he’s already regretting coming over.
“Hey.” I reach out a hand. It’s too far away for him to take, but the gesture’s what matters. “I didn’t invite you over so I could drill you.”
“Okay.” He smiles a little. Was it my phrasing?
“But you know I have to ask.”
“So ask.”
“What the hell was Kennedy talking about? Why does she hate Lizzie’s family? And who did she mean by him?”
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I get it. Not all of it, but enough.
He looks at me like he knows what I’m thinking. “I’m sorry, babe,” he says. “I can’t tell you.”
Babe. Close to baby. But totally different.
Enough with the jealous-girlfriend bit.
“Kennedy hates Lizzie’s dad?” I’m watching the air in front of me like the words might be hovering there. Like, at any moment, I can open my mouth and take them back.
Jesse says nothing but his eyes don’t leave my face. I think he wants to answer my question. Why can’t he?
“I mean, I know he’s a frigid old thing. Kind of preachy.” I chuckle, because that’s his job. “Did she go to his church or something? What did he do, ban her when she got breasts?”
Nothing. He’s fidgeting, so I know I’m getting close. I keep going even though I shouldn’t.
“What could possibly have happened? God, it’s not like he’s one of those child-molesting preachers. He’s harmless. So why would she . . . Jesse? Why would she . . . ?”
The S-Word Page 12
