by Dawn Klehr
Libby looks incredible—as usual—her hair smooth and shiny, her makeup flawless. But something is different. She’s staring into space, tapping her fingers on the table, stopping to check her phone every few minutes.
Finally, I move to her and sit.
“Thanks for coming,” she says. It’s weird. No smart-ass comment, no sarcasm.
“No problem,” I tell her, scanning the room for Emma.
“Don’t worry, she’s not working. I checked.”
“Thanks,” I say, releasing my breath.
Libby’s eyes run across my wrecked body. “Are you sick? You don’t look right.”
“No, just hung over.” I rub my temples.
“Really?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Okay, I won’t,” she snaps.
Thank you.
Libby shifts in her seat. “Look, I know you’re pissed at me. And I’m not trying to be a jerk. But there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Fine,” I say, just wanting to get it over with. “Shoot.”
“Well, it’s about Dez.”
I drop my head. “Not this again.”
“And Emma.”
I stop and listen. “Go on,” I tell her.
She swallows and then angles toward me. “I found Dez’s phone number in Emma’s phone. He’s been calling her.”
“And?”
“Like I tried to tell you yesterday, something is seriously up with them.”
Here we go.
“What were you doing with Emma’s phone?”
“I saw it at work.”
It just keeps getting better.
“You stalked her phone without asking?”
“Well, she won’t talk either,” Libby huffs, like that makes it okay for her to steal Emma’s phone.
“Maybe because there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Riley, she seems scared and nervous. And it’s not just that.”
“What else?” My hands wave her forward, telling her to give me all she’s got.
“I was with Reed the other day,” Libby says, tearing her napkins into tiny pieces.
“Reed? My Reed?”
Or, her Reed.
She nods.
“Where did you find him?” I ask.
“He hangs out at a café downtown.”
“This isn’t sounding like a chance encounter.” I count to ten in my head, trying to keep my cool.
“It wasn’t. I tracked him down, Riley.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a theory,” she says.
“And what’s that?”
“Somebody is messing with your love life. Somebody who would have something to gain.”
“Okay, no, stop it. You’re freaking me out. What do you think this is, some creepy Fatal Attraction movie or something?”
“Reed says it was you who dumped him.”
“Well, that’s B.S. And you should know, since you went after him. Do you really want to rehash all of this?”
“That’s not what happened, I swear,” Libby says.
“It’s been a while, maybe he forgot how it went down. Or maybe he feels bad for breaking it off like he did. Point is, this doesn’t matter.”
“I talked to Georgia, too.”
Georgia? That tryst was shorter than the one I had with Reed. “Jesus, Libby, this is nuts.”
“She told me Dez threatened her.”
“Get out.”
“I’m serious, Riley.”
“No, stop right now. I’m not listening to this anymore. Dez has been my best friend for years—he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s not the one with secrets, Libby. You are.”
That catches her totally off-guard.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I think you know. Or should I bring Will into the conversation?” I tighten my arms around my body. I’ve waited too long to bring this up.
“How’d you find out?” she finally asks.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were selling drugs for Will?”
“Sold.” She corrects. “Once.”
“Then why were you with him, going through Ms. Dunn’s desk the day she was killed?”
“How do you know that?” She looks stunned.
“We were taping that day, and you’re on the video.”
“It’s a long story, and Ms. Dunn knew all about it. It was bad judgment, Rye. Much like you’re having with Dez right now. I wish Ms. Dunn was here to straighten you out, like she did with me.”
“You’re going to compare selling drugs to dating Desmond. Really?”
Before I can storm off, some girls from school stop by our table. “Riley, you were awesome the other night in the film. Seriously awesome.”
“Thanks,” I tell them. “I’m glad you made it.”
“I’m taking my boyfriend to the festival next Saturday.”
The festival. The Guthrie scouts—they’ll be here in six days. Six. Days.
The girls leave me to Libby. “Ya know, with everything going on, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me now,” I tell her. “I don’t need the stress.”
Libby hangs there for a moment with her mouth hanging open until Stella comes over.
“Hi … there,” Stella says, sensing the tension.
“Hi, Stella.”
Libby’s silent.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” I say. “Libby was just getting ready to leave.”
DEZ
I ordered the death of my brother …
I killed my mother’s son. I killed my father’s son.
—Michael Corleone
After Michael Corleone confesses to a priest in The Godfather Part III, the priest has a look in his eyes that screams Oh shit! He tells Michael that his sins are terrible and it is just that he suffers for them. I wonder what that priest would say to me if I confessed. Is it just that I suffer too? Even though I was so young when it all began? Does my pain count for anything? Do my reasons matter?
After all the fallouts and ups and downs with Mom’s boyfriends over the years, I began to realize the power I had in her life. Like Riley, Mom was notorious for picking out the wrong people. I slowly learned that all I really needed to do to get rid of the various tools that came through our door was plant a seed.
I’d make up a story about every new friend of hers that I didn’t like. This one was mean to me. That one was always talking to a girl on the phone. The other one kicked a dog.
I guess I’ve done the same thing with Riley. Though the whole Reed debacle wasn’t premeditated, the rest of them were. When I had the opportunity to intercept a text from Georgia, I knew exactly what I was doing. And when it became apparent that something more than friendship was going on with Emma, I pulled out the big guns.
With Reed, it was easy. It only took a few strategically timed text messages to get rid of him. But when Georgia entered the picture, she was one hundred times worse. For one, she had a boyfriend. Justin. And, two, Justin liked to watch his girl-on-girl porn live. They had all sorts of plans for Riley.
Rye would’ve been mortified if she’d ever found out, so I couldn’t let that happen. I also couldn’t let her get anywhere near either one of them. And that required a good old-fashioned threat—with the help of the Heights PD. I hacked into Bernie’s computer to get the dirt I needed. It wasn’t an empty threat, either. I would’ve torn Justin apart if he ever got near Riley.
With Emma, it took even more to get rid of her. For that one, I needed to enlist Tori and her bag of nastiness.
It worked.
And now, I guess my suffering is just.
RILEY
“Whoa,” Stella says,
sliding into Libby’s chair. “What did you do to get Libby in such a huff?”
“That girl is losing it. Seriously, losing it.”
“Spill it,” Stella orders.
“Our Libby seems to think that Dez is responsible for all my breakups.” I groan. It’s so ridiculous. “Apparently, she found Dez’s number in Emma’s phone. Then she actually tracked down a few of my exes to ask about me. To find out why we broke up. She thinks Dez is to blame for all of it. She’s painted him into this total mental case.”
I could’ve used her investigation skills with Devlin.
Just then I get a shooting pain behind my eyes and I’m sure my head will explode at any minute.
“Riley, you don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good. My hangover is back.”
“Oooh, that sucks.” Stella gathers our bags and stands up. “Here, come with me.” She links her arm in mine and pulls me upright. “Getting rid of hangovers is my specialty. I know the best cure there is.”
Stella pulls me out the door and I fall into step with her as we walk down the sidewalk. She has a little bounce in her stride that makes me smile, even in my condition. It’s such a happy walk.
I follow her to the diner at the bowling alley a few doors down.
“You’ve got to be joking, Stella.” I hold my head in my hands. “Slamming bowling balls for a hangover?”
She stops to look at me. “We’re not here for the bowling. We’re here for the food.”
We sit at one of the old vinyl booths. I trace the graffiti that’s carved into the table with my fingertips.
T.D. loves H.K.
D.T. Rocks!
Ray is a bitch!
I hate James.
J.S. gives good BJs.
I slam the water the waitress sets down. Stella slides hers over to me and I drink that one as well. I watch as Stella plays with the bands around her wrist—I want to get a closer look at them. There are a few bright rubber bands in the middle of layers of thin leather, colored string, and woven yarn bracelets. Some have small charms on them and some are braided together. I wonder what that’s all about. Do they mean something? Or is she one of those girls who pretends to be all into Kabbalah?
She catches me. “Sobriety bracelets,” she says. “Oh, and a few charity bands.”
I feel like a jerk. “I’m sorry. About the sobriety thing. I mean, sobriety is good, but I didn’t know,” I stumble. “This is so inappropriate, to expect you to help me with my hangover.”
“It’s totally appropriate.” She giggles. “Listen, I don’t judge. Just because I couldn’t handle my booze doesn’t mean other people can’t. And who better to help you over a hangover than an ex-drunk?”
“Oh, Stella.” I drop my head on the table.
“Just kidding.” She nudges me. “I didn’t have it too bad. For me, it was just one party too many and I thought, this is stupid. For me, anyway.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I study the menu.
Soon a tiny server covered in two sleeves of tattoos asks for our order.
I open my mouth and Stella puts a hand over my menu.
“Let me,” she says.
I nod.
“Okay, let’s see. I’ll have the huevos and OJ and my friend will have a glass of pickle juice and a BCB with fries.”
“Got it. I’ll get the pickle juice over right away,” the server says, patting my hand.
“See, she knows what’s up,” Stella says.
“Ew, pickle juice? Come on.”
“That, along with a bacon cheeseburger, is the cure-all for a hangover, trust me.”
I shrug, willing to try anything at this point.
“So, were you celebrating the film’s success again last night?” she asks.
“Something like that.”
“It really was awesome, Riley. You’re so talented. I feel like you’re going to do big things.”
“I’m not feeling that way now,” I say, wrinkling my nose at the pickle juice the waitress sets on the table.
“Here,” Stella says, pushing the green liquid forward. “This will help put things into perspective.”
I grab the glass. Stella covers my hand with hers and my stomach does a quick flip. “But,” she adds, “you have to slam it.”
She moves her hand away and I’m left to chug my drink. I close my eyes and open my mouth, letting the liquid flow down my throat. It’s sour and pickley and makes my head tingle.
I open my eyes—and recoil.
It’s Tori, leaning over our table.
“Just as I thought, girls,” Tori says, looking over her shoulder to the Rollers standing in formation behind her. “Riley’s back to her old ways. Sometimes prayer isn’t enough.”
I roll my eyes, too tired for a verbal spar with Tori.
She slaps a few of her dad’s election flyers on the table and glares at me.
“Don’t forget to vote … ladies,” she says on her way out.
I can’t wait until the damn election is over.
Before Tori gets to the door, Stella grabs the flyer, cleans her shoe with it, crumples it in a ball, and chucks it at her.
God, I love this girl.
“Are you okay?”
“I am. She doesn’t even faze me anymore.”
“Good. Now relax and let the potion do its magic.” She leans back in the booth and puts her feet up.
I do the same.
“You know, Riley, for someone who’s supposed to be embarking on a potential hot and heavy love life, you don’t look like you’re enjoying it.”
“I know,” I say, realizing I could use some unbiased advice. “Besides the obvious hangover, I guess I’m just nervous. I mean, after Emma, isn’t going out with a guy weird? Does this mean I’m bi, or am I straight now?” I’m ranting. “I don’t know what to think.”
“There are no rules for this kind of thing, Riley.” Stella puts her hand on mine again. I exhale, feeling like I can breathe a little easier. “Don’t put yourself in a box. And don’t think so much—just do what feels right. ”
“What was it like when you were with a boy?” I ask, hoping I’m not prying too much. “I mean, I didn’t get very far in my previous relationships.”
“Well.” She laughs. “Once you can get past what they’re packing down there, it’s really not that different.”
Just then, the waitress drops the burger on the table. I can feel my face turning bright red.
How embarrassing. She must’ve heard everything.
Stella and I stare at the pile of meat in front of us. Then Stella shrugs her shoulders and I crack up.
“Oh, God, I can’t even go there right now,” I say, struggling for air.
“You don’t have to,” she says when we’re finally able to calm down. “Just listen to your heart, Riley. I know it sounds cheesy, but really listen. It won’t steer you wrong.”
She pushes my burger over. “Now, eat.”
The high from the weekend is over and school drags on Monday. During third period, I skip Geometry. I can’t face Libby. Or, I don’t want to—which I’m sure is making her feel even more superior than she already does. But I don’t care about that either.
On the way to the auditorium, I have to pass Ms. Dunn’s old classroom. Mrs. Craig is now using it for Statistics. I can’t stand the thought of somebody else using her things so I run by the room, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
Once I get to the stairwell, I see Emma.
“Riley.” She smiles, just the way she used to.
“Hi,” I say, trying to sound uninterested even though every cell in my body is on high alert.
Her face deflates a little but her eyes search mine when she asks, “How’ve you been?”
“Busy.” I shuffle my feet, wil
ling them to hold still. “You know, the film and all.”
“Yeah. You were really great, Riley. Amazing.”
“You came to the screening?” I clear my throat, trying to mask my excitement.
“I was there, just to see your film. Viv wouldn’t let me off for the entire screening. She was so freaked out about the after party—it was an all-hands-on-deck situation.”
“Wow, I’m ah … that’s cool. Thanks for the support.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” she says. And then, as quickly as the wall came down, it goes back up and she looks past me.
“Hello, ladies.” Dez comes up behind me. “What, are you cutting class?” He pokes at my ribs. “Hey Emma, what’s up?”
“I was just leaving,” Emma says, and she leaves so fast I don’t get a chance to say goodbye.
“So, what’s up there?” Dez asks, a little too intense for comfort. Libby’s accusations seep into my head as I look at him—I’m furious that she has me second-guessing him.
“Nothing. I ran into her on my way to the auditorium,” I tell him, shaking off my skepticism. “I’m not feeling Geometry today, so I thought I’d come down here and block a few things for my audition.”
“You’ll be perfect, Riley.”
“No, I still need some work. I really want to be at the top of my game for the Guthrie scouts.”
“You’re going to be great.”
The way he says it makes me almost believe it.
“Will I see you later?” he asks.
I nod, and Dez leans in for a quick peck. But once his lips touch mine, I quickly move back.
He looks at me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Is that not okay?”
“No,” I stutter. “I mean, yeah—I don’t … I don’t know. I’m not into the whole PDA thing.”
“There’s nobody here. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about the auditions and seeing Emma. It’s just been a weird day.”
“You don’t still have feelings for her, do you?” He looks pained when he asks.
“No, it’s not that. I don’t know—I just get the feeling that she’s not telling me something.”
