Going Under (14 page)

***

“Why did you make fun of him?” Gretchen
asked.

I agreed to spend the night with her, but
only if she didn’t make us go to another party.

“I didn’t make fun of him,” I said. “Or at
least I didn’t mean to.”

“Was he horrible?”

“Far from it. The whole thing was hot until
I opened my stupid mouth,” I whined.

“Why did you?”

“A year, Gretchen! What the hell? I mean, I
could see if he were ugly or something, but the guy is drop-dead
gorgeous! I couldn’t hide my surprise. What do you want from
me?”

Gretchen tossed an emery board in my
direction and started in on her nails.

“So, it’s like you two have this
uncontrollable sexual energy around each other?” Gretchen
asked.

“Obviously. We don’t even know one another.
I lunged at him like a freaking hoochie,” I said.

“Oh, Brooke. Stop beating yourself up over
it. Make-out sessions can be nice.”

“I want more than a make-out session with
him,” I said, filing my nails.

“So this goes way beyond a sexual attraction
thing,” Gretchen confirmed.

I nodded sullenly. I felt like a big wet
blanket on her fun Saturday night. I don’t know why she invited me
to stay over. She heard the way I sounded on the phone earlier.
Dejected. Slightly bitchy.

“Well, you know what you’ve gotta do,”
Gretchen said. “Go back over there and apologize.”

“I don’t even know what I’m apologizing
for!” I argued.

“You’re apologizing for making him feel like
a loser for not having kissed a girl in a year. That’s what,”
Gretchen said.

“Fine.”

“Brookey, get rid of the ‘tude, okay?
Tonight is about nails and
Sex and the City
reruns and
Bacardi.” She plunged her hand into her purse and pulled out
several airplane bottles.

“Where’d you get those?” I asked. I was in
no mood to take care of Gretchen tonight.

“Why does it matter?” she replied, holding
up the miniature bottles of rum.

“I’m not replaying that Friday night with
you, Gretchen,” I warned.

“Oh, relax. I’m not drinking. You are,” she
said.

“No way.”

“Uh, yeah you are. You need to loosen up and
stop worrying about Ryan and have a little fun tonight,” Gretchen
said. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re staying right here in my
room. This is my ‘thank you’ for taking care of me after Tanner’s
party.”

“I can’t drink straight liquor,” I said.

“Hello, Brooke. I’m totally aware. You act
like I don’t have a clue who you are,” Gretchen huffed, and pointed
to the Coke bottle sitting on her desk.

Thirty minutes later I was trashed.

“And I’m, like, what? What?
What
? A
year? That’s, like, completely impossible because he’s sooo
freaking hot,” I said, lying sprawled on Gretchen’s bedroom floor
wearing only my bra and panties. I’ve no idea what happened to my
clothes.

“Did you want to finish changing into your
pajamas?” Gretchen asked, giggling.

Oh. So that’s what happened to my
clothes.

I shook my head from side to side.

“Hey, don’t do that too hard. I don’t want
you yakking on my rug,” Gretchen said.

“I just wanted to say, ‘Ryan, why are you so
gorgeous and strange? What are your secrets? Your
secrets
,
Ryan. I must know them.’” I rolled over onto my stomach. “God, will
you just tell me!” I begged.

Gretchen laughed.

“Gretchy?” I asked.

“Don’t call me that,” she replied.

“I was ready to do him. I’m totally not
joking right now,” I said. “I wanted to do things to him.”

I crawled towards my friend who sat in front
of me leaning against her bed.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? I
wanted to do things. Lots of things,” I said, inches from her
face.

“Like blow him?” she asked.

“Blow. Him. Up!” I replied, and Gretchen
fell on the floor laughing. “What?” I asked, laughing, too, because
Gretchen’s laugh was infectious.

“I love you,” she said between giggles.
“Tell me more.”

“I want to swim in his eyes,” I said
dreamily.

“Oh God.”

“And marry him and have his babies,” I
finished.

“And blow him, too, right?”

“To Mars,” I sighed, leaning against the
bed. Gretchen sat up and joined me. “All the way to Mars.”

I looked at my friend. She stared at me,
grinning.

“Can I call him?” I asked.

“No.”

“I just wanna wish him a good night,” I
said.

“No.”

“But I need to tell him a couple of
things.”

“No, you don’t.”

“But I promised him I’d call him
tonight.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“But I love him.”

“I know, Brookey.”

“I love him so much. I’ve never loved anyone
as much as I love him.”

Gretchen put her arm around me, and I rested
my head on her shoulder. “I know, Brooke.”

“Do you think he loves me?”

“I think he’s head-over-heels in love with
you.”

I squealed. “Can I have another drink?”

“You drank it all,” Gretchen said.

I grunted and looked at the TV. “Charlotte
just wanted to have a freakin’ baby, people! Is that too much to
ask for?”

“I know,” Gretchen said. “They gave her a
tough storyline.”

“So freaking unfair,” I said, and
hiccupped.

I promptly fell asleep on Gretchen’s
shoulder, my head bobbing up and down on tightly packed waves. I
heard my friend’s voice in the distance before dozing off.

“You’re gonna have the worst headache
tomorrow.”

Nine

Mother. Fucker.

I awoke in Gretchen’s bed with a raging
headache. She sauntered out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a
towel, smile plastered on her face, looking chipper.

“Hi, sunshine,” she said, heading for her
dresser.

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

“Hey now. I didn’t force you to drink all of
it, Brooke,” she said.

“I still hate you.”

Gretchen pouted. “You know you had fun.”

My lips turned up in a painful smile. “How
stupid did I get?”

“Well, I had to wrestle your cell phone from
you,” Gretchen said.

“No way! I remember falling asleep on your
shoulder,” I countered.

“Mmhmm. And then you woke up and you wanted
to talk to your dad and then your mom. Finn and then Ryan,”
Gretchen said. “Especially Ryan.”

I placed my hands over my face. “I’m such an
idiot.”

“You are not,” Gretchen said, unwrapping her
hair and pulling it up in a wet bun. “It was harmless fun. You got
silly, and then I put you to bed. Just promise me you’ll never
drink by yourself.”

“I’m never drinking again, period,” I
muttered.

Gretchen sighed. “That’s what they all
say.”

I rolled on to my side and nearly screamed
in agony. The throbbing in my head pulsed close to an explosion
before settling once again into a punishing ache.

“I’m going for breakfast. What do you
want?”

The thought of food made me want to hurl. I
closed my eyes and swallowed hard.

“You shouldn’t go out with wet hair. It’s
cold,” I said.

“It’s fine. And I’m making you eat
something,” Gretchen said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I had no plans to leave her bed. Ever.

When I got home around three, I collapsed in
my own bed. The day was already wasted, and I wanted nothing more
than to sleep away my headache. I convinced myself I wouldn’t dream
this time because my brain wasn’t working right. How could I
possibly summon events from my past when I couldn’t remember the
day of the week?

“
Okay, you were right,” Beth admitted. “I
think I’m in love with him.”

“
Oh?” I squirmed in the passenger
seat.

“
Yes. And I’ve never felt this way about
anybody,” Beth said. “At the risk of sounding super cheesy, thank
you.”

She glanced my way for a second before
turning back to the road.

“
Thank me for what?” I asked.

“
For setting me up with him! Hello?” She
looked at me again. “What’s up with you today?”

“
Nothing,” I lied.

I couldn’t shake the memory of Finn leaning
over and kissing me. It happened last night. We went out, the three
of us since I had failed at yet another blind date, and we took
Beth home first. That left me for last, and he kissed me before I
could find the door handle and scramble out of the car.

It didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. He
had been flirting with me for the past week, always covert and
always in Beth’s absence. When I mustered the courage to ask him
what the hell he was doing, he kissed me. And I kissed him
back.

“
Brooke?”

“
Huh?”

“
Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Beth
asked, pulling into the mall parking lot.

“
Nothing,” I said. “I swear it.”

“
You sure?” she pressed.

“
Positive.”

Beth paused for the briefest second. “Okay
then. Can we keep talking about me?”

I smiled. “Sure.”

We hurried into the mall. Neither one of us
brought an umbrella, and a light April rain threatened to ruin
Beth’s perfectly styled hair. My hair, however, looked like shit,
and I was more than happy to stand in the rain if it melted me to
nothing. It was the guilt that made me want to disappear.

“
Finn is taking me out tonight,” Beth
said.

“
I know.”

“
And I think he’s gonna tell me
something.”

My heart clenched. “Oh yeah?”

“
Well, he’s taking me to that fancy
restaurant on Glenwood Avenue. That can mean only one
thing.”

“
He’s gonna pop the question?” I asked
teasingly.

Beth laughed. “Get real! But now that you
said that, it makes saying ‘I love you’ not nearly as good.”

“
He loves you,” I whispered, somewhere
between a question and a statement.

“
I think so,” Beth replied. “But if I’m
totally wrong, forget we had this conversation.”

He loves her. That’s all I could think of as
we roamed from store to store taking notes of the newest fashion
trends. Normally I loved doing this. I loved clothes, accessorizing
outfits, finding the perfect shoes. But today it seemed so empty
and pointless.

I considered telling Beth right there, but I
couldn’t stand the thought of her reaction. I actually feared it. I
feared she would be upset with me, though I never seduced Finn. I
never gave him any reason to believe that I wanted to be more than
friends with him. He was dating my best friend, for Christ’s sake!
But I also couldn’t deny my physical attraction to him. It started
growing about a month ago, but I tried with every ounce of fight in
me to bury it. I convinced myself that I was just jealous of Finn
and Beth. They had the kind of relationship I wanted. Surely that
was the only thing that accounted for my lust.

***

Monday morning was painful. I didn’t want to
see Ryan and sneaked into first period, tiptoeing to my desk like a
burglar. I should have carried my book bag like those cartoon
characters carry the sack of money, cinched at the top with my two
hands pressed close to my chest. All I needed was a striped outfit
and a big dollar sign on my bag.

He was already in his seat, staring out the
window, and I hoped he wouldn’t turn around. I decided against
striking up a conversation with Lucy. I thought if he didn’t hear
my voice, he would forget I even existed.

“Did you have a nice weekend?” Lucy asked,
as I opened my notebook. Ryan turned around and glanced at me.
Well, so much for that.

“Yeah. You?”

“It was all right. I went to this crafts
antique fair thing up in the mountains with my mom,” Lucy said. “I
thought it’d be really lame, but it was actually fun.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think I’m totally digging the shabby chic
look. I think when I own my own place, I’ll decorate that way,”
Lucy continued.

Who was this girl?
I thought. I’d
only been trying to get her to talk to me since the first day of
school. Now when she decided to be a chatterbox, I wanted her to
shut the hell up.

“We ended up staying in this cute bed and
breakfast while we were up there. It wasn’t planned or anything.
Just spur of the moment. I like that about my mom.”

I nodded and looked Ryan’s way. He was back
at it, staring out the window, and I wished I knew what he was
thinking. I was dying to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to
say. We left things on such a weird note, not even bothering to say
goodbye to each other. That was rude and immature on both our
parts. Or maybe I didn’t realize just how much I had embarrassed
him.

“You mentioned cheerleading the other day,”
Lucy said, and I whipped my head around so fast, my neck popped.
She heard it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah yeah. Fine. What about cheerleading?”
I asked, massaging my neck.

“Oh, well you mentioned you used to cheer.
So did I,” she said.

My eyebrows shot up, and then I lowered them
just as quickly. Must I make everything so obvious?

“When?” I asked. “Where?”

“Here in ninth grade. I quit though.
Obviously.”

“Why?” I pressed.

Lucy fidgeted for a moment with the buttons
on her blouse. “It just didn’t work out.”

I couldn’t leave it at that. “Did you have a
falling out with one of the girls or something?”

Lucy shook her head. “I just became
disinterested, I guess.”

Yeah, like everything else in her life. The
girl did nothing at school now, but in ninth grade, she was
involved in everything.

“Any particular reason why?” I asked.

“I guess I didn’t like being a flyer,” she
said.