Kendra gave me a look that said it should have been obvious. “That girl is crazysauce.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you seen the way she looks at you? Get a clue, Clare. Lose the psycho.”
I didn’t see Mallory all day. She was either sick or she skipped. As I walked home, thoughts churned in my head. People at school thought Mallory was nuts. But they’d also branded me as a freak for most of my life, so I didn’t put much stock in their opinions. But Mallory had lied to me about Sierra.
I needed to know why.
Just then, Mallory’s house came into view. I couldn’t solve my other problems right now, but I could get some answers on this one.
Mrs. Neely welcomed me with a smile and told me to go right upstairs to Mallory’s room. I knocked on the door and heard a soft, “Come in.”
Mallory’s room looked like a place in transition. Her bed had once held a canopy, but it had been taken down. The walls were white, and a pink flowered border was in the process of being torn down, by obviously unprofessional hands.
“What are you doing here?” Mallory peeked out from under a giant pink comforter.
I stepped closer to her. “Are you sick?”
“No,” she croaked.
“Then why didn’t you go to school? Why are you lying in bed?”
After a pause, she said, “I saw you.”
The words were so soft, I wasn’t even sure if they were meant for me. “What?”
“I saw you go into Sierra’s house yesterday. Mrs. Waldman had you do your psychic thing, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, so?”
Mallory propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me. “So that’s why I skipped school today. I didn’t want to be there when you told everyone what I did.”
My heart felt heavy with foreboding as I sat on the end of Mallory’s bed, looking into her panicked eyes. “What did you do?”
Mallory balled her hands into fists and pressed them against her eyes. “It’s my fault, okay! It’s my fault she left.”
“You were friends?” I already knew the truth, but wanted to hear it from her.
Mallory sniffled and took a deep breath. “She was my only friend, and for a long time, I was hers. Then she started to change. I was so excited when she said the homeschooling thing was ending and she was going to go to Eastport High. I thought, finally, I’d have a friend at school, too, instead of just at home.”
“What happened?”
“She never spoke to me at school. I think she realized how low I was on the social ladder and I was a grade behind her and she was embarrassed to be seen with me.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, that’s pretty shitty.”
“You want to know something pathetic?” Mallory sat up fully and leaned back against the headboard. “I still tried to see her after school. Be her secret friend, you know? I figured that was better than nothing. But she never had time for me anymore. She was always staying after school for projects and stuff.”
I frowned. “What does that have to do with her leaving?”
“Eventually, it all built up inside and one day I went to her house and we had a huge blowup.” Her voice cracked. “I said every mean thing I’d ever held back. And then she left. Without a word to me and only that little note for her mom.”
No wonder Mallory never wanted to talk about Sierra. She was hurting and, on top of that, she blamed herself for everything. I still wished she’d been honest with me from the start, but at least I understood now.
I softened my voice. “I don’t think one fight with a friend would make someone do something so drastic as run away. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
Mallory stared down at her fuzzy blanket, picking at some lint. “I know you’re looking for Sierra.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “Will you do me a favor? If you find her, even if she doesn’t want to come back, just tell her I’m sorry. That I didn’t mean all the things I said. I was just hurt, so I lashed out.”
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
MOM NEARLY FELL OVER WHEN I TOLD HER I WAS going to a party. You’d think I’d said I was secretly an alien from the planet Vespar. But I understood her reaction. This was a first in Clare Land.
When her voice returned after the initial shock, she went into Mom mode. Her eyes narrowed. “How are you getting there?”
We were in my room, and I was looking through my closet. “Brooke’s going to pick me up.”
“Are this girl’s parents going to be home?”
I considered lying, but if Mom listened to my thoughts and caught me, I’d be grounded. So I went with the honest approach. I turned to face her. “I really don’t know.”
She folded her arms. “Will there be drinking at this party?”
“I assume so, but, Mom, you know I won’t.” Drinking meant a lack of control and I wasn’t putting myself through that. Especially considering my admirer-slash-stalker could be at the party.
After a mini-lecture and a double-pinky-swear promise that I wouldn’t get in a car with someone who’d been drinking, and that I would call her if I needed her, Mom agreed to let me go. Then she immediately transformed from nervous to thrilled. She said she was happy to see me getting out there and doing normal teen stuff instead of spending another weekend in with Perry and Nate.
She tore through my closet, picking out five different outfits and forcing me to put on a little fashion show for her. All five elicited responses along the lines of “Boring,” “Yawn,” and “Don’t you own anything that isn’t black or brown?” Eventually she approved of a shirred violet top and my skinny jeans.
Mom was enjoying herself so much that I even let her do my makeup. I usually never wore anything but lip gloss, preferring the natural look. But I had to admit the liner, mascara, and shadow Mom ringed my eyes with really made the blue pop. I let my curls hang loose down my shoulders and put a little extra anti-frizz serum in for some shine. Then I stepped back and looked in the full-length mirror.
“Wow,” Mom said.
And I kind of agreed.
“Now, remember.” I smirked. “This means the next time Phil asks you out, you have to say yes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mom replied, but she didn’t seem too put out. In fact, I think I saw a hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth.
I sat around flipping channels while waiting for Brooke, who’d texted me to say she was running “a little late.” Finally, she beeped the horn and I was on my way to my first party. A concoction of equal parts excitement and terror swirled in my stomach.
Kendra’s giant McMansion was set at the end of the dead-end road, up on a hill. It seemed to glower down at the rest of the more modest McMansions with its judgy little window-eyes. The driveway looked like a freeway in one of those apocalyptic movies where everyone’s gone, but their cars are left behind, haphazardly parked this way and that. One even had the door left open.
I wondered why it looked like we were the last to arrive, when Brooke was supposedly Kendra’s best friend. But as I watched her primp in the rearview mirror, I figured it out. Brooke wanted to make an entrance.
“When Jordan sees me, he’s going to be so sorry about our fight, he’ll get down on his knees and beg for me back.” She turned to me with a devious smile and I smiled back, hoping that was the right response.
As we walked up to the front door, the music boomed louder and louder, as did my scared little heart.
Brooke let out a delighted sigh. “I love it when Kendra’s dad has business trips.” Then she opened the door and walked in, a few steps in front of me, flipping her hair and swishing her hips.
All eyes were on her as she sauntered down the hallway. Before I knew it, she had disappeared into a swarm of male admirers, and I was left alone to navigate the maze that was Kendra’s house. I closed the door behind me, suddenly having second thoughts. I may have been invited, but that didn’t mean I belonged.
Last Year Clare would have a lot to say to This Year Cla
re if she could have peeked into the future and seen me in Kendra Kiger’s house. She’d probably slap me upside the head and say some variation of “Hey, Future Clare, wtf?”
I reminded myself of my deal with Mom and started walking. Music blared from the front living room, where a group of sweaty bodies writhed to the beat. Two girls danced on a glass coffee table with their eyes closed. My first thought was how unsafe that was, which pretty much explains why I’d never been to a party before. The kitchen was next, and from the line that trailed out of it, I guessed that’s where the keg was. I peeked in, looking for any friendly face, then ducked back out.
The hallway continued to the right, but noise emanated from a doorway that led downstairs to the basement. I took the stairs slowly and my eyes widened when I reached the bottom. This was where the party really was.
The basement was large and finished, spotted with couches and beanbag chairs, and a pool table. Clusters of kids everywhere. I heard someone call my name and saw Kendra waving to me from the corner. Tiffany stood next to her with a sneer on her face.
I took a deep breath and threaded my way through the crowd, practicing opening lines in my head. Great party? I like your house? Ugh. But I didn’t get a chance to pick one because Tiffany spoke first, of course waiting until I was in hearing range.
“You invited her?” Tiffany scoffed.
Kendra rolled her eyes. “Get over it, Tiff.”
Tiffany looked back at me, sharply. “Where’s your shadow?”
“Who?” I asked flatly.
“Your little girlfriend? Mallory Neely?”
“Oh, shut it, Tiffany,” I hissed back furiously.
“Mallory’s got a big fat crush on you,” she continued, her eyes alight with fiery loathing. “She wants to take you to the homecoming dance.”
I was hoping Kendra would back me up and tell Tiffany to let it go, but instead she said, “Tiffany’s right, Clare. That Mallory girl is loony.”
“She follows you around like a puppy dog,” Tiffany added, as if she really cared about my social well-being.
“I think it’s time that puppy got kicked.” Kendra snickered and Tiffany joined in with a cackle.
I felt sick. I opened my mouth, ready to unload on them, but Justin picked that moment to call to me from across the room. Lucky for Kendra and Tiffany, I walked away.
“Hey!” he said, pulling me into a huge, unexpected hug, as if he hadn’t seen me in months.
I extricated myself after a moment and responded with a lackluster, “Hey, yourself.”
Justin beamed at me. “Wow, I saw you and Tiffany chatting. No hair pulling or anything!”
“Just because it didn’t happen, doesn’t mean I didn’t want to,” I muttered.
He laughed, a little too loud. My joke wasn’t that funny. But then I realized he was swaying in place where he stood. The drink in his hand obviously wasn’t his first of the evening.
I looked over his shoulder and spied Gabriel standing with two other guys I recognized from the hockey team. His eyes found mine and he lifted his plastic cup in greeting. I smiled and nodded once in return.
Justin glanced behind him to see who I was smiling at, then turned back to me, frowning. He edged closer and asked me a question. I couldn’t hear him over the music, so I pointed to my ear. He leaned in closer and yelled, “You want a drink?”
I shook my head back and forth. “Nah, I’m all set. Thanks.”
“So was Mallory Neely your stalker the whole time?”
I stepped back. “Where did you hear that?”
His face changed, perhaps realizing he’d let something slip that he shouldn’t have. “Oh, Tiffany mentioned that she saw Mallory put that picture in your locker.”
I skipped the whole part about how I knew Mallory wasn’t the stalker and got right to the Tiffany part. “So she’s ‘the little birdie’ you’ve been getting all your info from?”
He put his hand up. “I’m not friends with her or anything. She just walked up to me and told me.”
I believed him, but still, it brought up things I’d worked hard to forget.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Justin said.
“Easier said than done.”
“Just think of it this way. Anytime Tiffany Desposito gets a rise out of you, evil wins.”
My mouth twitched.
His finger trailed along my lip. “Is that a smile I see?”
I playfully batted his hand away. “No.”
“Yes, I think it was.”
I could see Gabriel watching us, his face dark and unreadable. Justin’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me in to him.
“Isn’t this great?” Justin asked.
“The party?” I didn’t really know. I had no other parties to compare it to.
“Not just the party. Everything. Me here with my friends, you here with your friends.” He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “This is what it could be like, you know. If we got back together. It would be different this time.”
Different this time? I pulled away. “Funny, I liked how it was last time,” I said indignantly. “Before you went ahead and cheated on me with that trashy —”
Justin cut me off. “Don’t take it the wrong way. Come on.”
A kid passed by. “Clare, it’s your hero!” he called out.
Justin’s face lit up and he accepted the praise in a dramatic bow. I cringed. I really hoped we weren’t going to have to tell the story again. Obviously, I was grateful for what Justin did that day last summer. And I was more than grateful that he’d lived to tell the tale. But I didn’t want to talk about it with people circling around, hanging on every word. That’s what it was like when school started, and I’d hoped everyone would be over it by now.
But Justin liked it.
Right there in Kendra’s basement, he told the story again, loudly and with flourish, as I stared at the floor. I hated being the center of attention.
Justin fed the crowd with the right words at the right time. He was so happy and at home in this world.
But not me.
No matter how many of these parties I ended up going to, it would never feel comfortable to me.
I glanced back at where Gabriel had stood with a couple guys, but instead two girls now surrounded him.
Brooke and Tiffany.
Brooke was just giving him the same dreamy, appreciative gaze she always did. Tiffany took it one step further, stepping closer to finger the collar of his shirt as she spoke, her head tilted to the side, a sly smile spreading across her lips.
Gabriel’s face stayed blank and uninterested, but my chest suddenly felt heavy. As Tiffany ran her fingers down his sleeve, my insides squeezed.
“Hellooooo … Clare?”
From the expectant look on Justin’s face, I realized he’d asked me a question. But I couldn’t talk. A lump had lodged in my throat. Instead, I excused myself and went up to the main floor to find the bathroom.
The line was a mile long. I really didn’t need to go. I just wanted to get away and be alone for a minute.
“What’s taking so long?” a girl whined.
“Someone’s barfing in there,” a guy said as he headed out through the sliding glass doors to the backyard. He didn’t have to wait in line. As a guy, the world was his urinal.
“I wonder if there’s another bathroom upstairs.” The whiny girl was jumping in place now.
“We’re not allowed up there,” another girl shot back.
Someplace empty where I could process my jealousy and other conflicted feelings in peace? Sounded like the perfect place for me.
My hand trailed up the white banister as I climbed the stairs. Of course, there wasn’t a speck of dust on my fingers when I lifted them. Everything about Kendra’s house was perfect, just like her life. One of the richest girls in town. One of the most popular girls in school. She didn’t have to work all summer long in a candlelit room. Her only problem was deciding which of her thousand outfits to wear each
day.
I reached the landing and turned down a long, expansive hallway with many closed doors. I didn’t want to go opening random bedroom doors. I figured the bathroom had to have been left open, though, so I crept down the hall.
I found it and laid my hand on the doorjamb. It was empty and quiet. For the first time that night, I felt like I could relax. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath.
And a vision wavered to the surface.
Kendra standing in her jeans and bra. She pleaded, “Come on, Mom. People are going to get here soon. Let me go downstairs.”
“Not until you are finished,” a voice snapped back. “Try that one. It’ll look better than the other.”
The vision must have been from the point of view of Kendra’s mother gripping the doorjamb while her daughter changed in front of her.
Kendra picked up a shirt from the floor. Had it been thrown there? She pulled it over her head.
Her mother’s thoughts were vile.
Looking good doesn’t just happen.
I saw her eat that cheeseburger the other day.
No wonder those jeans are too tight.
Her mother looked down to compare her own body to her daughter’s. She was skinny, but not in a good way. More in a desperate, pitiful way. I wanted to feed her a bag of chips. A tight shirt clung to her obviously lifted boobs, and trendy designer jeans hung on her emaciated hips. She was clinging to her youth, perhaps trying to live vicariously through her daughter.
I’ve never seen Brooke eat a cheeseburger.
I’ve tried to teach this girl. Doesn’t she want to be on the Homecoming Court like I was?
I sized up Kendra’s mother pretty quickly. She was one of those super-competitive women with nothing to show for her own accomplishments so she pushed her children harder and harder in order to claim their accomplishments as her own. If Kendra won a crown on homecoming, Kendra’s mother would have bragging rights with all the other rich, youth-obsessed moms in her clique.
As the vision faded to black, I suddenly felt a longing to be with my own mother, laughing on the couch while watching TV, sharing a tub of ice cream with two spoons.
Kendra might have had a lot of material things that I didn’t, but I wouldn’t trade places with her. Not for one second.
Perception Page 11
