Kasey Screws Up the World (28 page)

And the worst part was…I kissed him back.

I
wanted
to kiss him back. I wanted to grab his shoulders and pull him closer to me and feel the weight of his chest pressing against mine. I wanted to run my fingers through his mess of hair. I wanted to forget the party and especially the other people watching us and my best friend who’d liked him for years.

But I didn’t want to be a horrible person anymore, the kind of person who took the things others wanted and kept them for herself.

At least in this one area, I could do the right thing.

I broke away from Lonnie and ran after Denise.

My lips stung as I pushed people out of my way in search for her. Faces blurred by me. The room was spinning. Time seemed to stand still and accelerate all at once until I found her near Ali’s bedroom.

She looked ready for battle. Her crossed arms resembled a weapon. I opened my mouth to speak, but Denise beat me to the punch. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear.” More lies. I needed an addiction patch like smokers use. I wiped the sweat from my brow and placed my palm against the wall. It slid down.

“Of course you did. You came here flaunting it. God! You’ve hung out with him before, haven’t you? And you didn’t tell me. You never tell me anything!”

“D! Please.” When I scrubbed my brow, my hand came back wet.

The anger twisted her features into cruel lines and I shrunk back in response. “I stood up for you. When the other girls bitched you out for quitting, I convinced them to sympathize with you. When they made fun of your dancing, I pointed out the things you did better than everyone else. When you didn’t ever call me back, I chalked it up to you being too busy helping your sister.” She added under her breath, “I’m such an idiot.”

The room was tipping over, slanting to the ground. It took all my effort to stay upright. “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Your sorries are meaningless.” She stalked off, knocking me against the wall in the process.

The only way I could make this right again was to set things straight with Lonnie. I’d have to break his heart. I knew how much that sucked. I bumbled back into the hallway, grabbing onto random shoulders to try to steady myself as I navigated through the room. The stupid apartment was so big that I got turned around more than once.

I finally found the kitchen, only to be void of Lonnie. His guitar rested against the iPod dock, which was now blasting some hardcore rap that made my brain hurt. I let out a breath. That meant Lonnie was still here, somewhere. I headed for it, intending to pick it up and bring it with me so he couldn’t leave without finding me first. I reached for it, but leaned too far forward and the next thing I knew, it crashed to the ground. And so did I. My knee landed on top of the wooden base and smashed right through it.

The loud boom of heavy wood hitting tile and my resulting scream sent heads turning in my direction. Pain radiated from my knee and from my head, but I knew they weren’t related.

The guitar looked as broken as I felt.

I pawed at the lower cabinets until I found the handle and used it to pull me upright. Blood dripped from a large gash on my knee. My stomach churned but this time not from the contents swimming inside me but from the knowledge that I’d ruined Lonnie’s dream, too. I raced out of there, desperate to find the exit before I ruined anything else.

I found Lonnie first. I crashed right into him on my way out of the kitchen.

He wrapped his arms around me to steady me. “Are you okay?” His eyes traced down to the blood on my fingers from wiping my knee. “Holy crap,” he yelled to the other partygoers. “Someone get a washcloth. Stat!”

No one listened.

“No. I’m fine. I mean, I’m not.” I dragged my hands over my face, surely swirling my melting make up even more. “I’m a mess.”

He cocked his head. “I can see that.” He reached out a hand and I hopped back, nearly losing my balance again. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He leaned in toward my face, and I cupped my hand over my mouth to prevent him from getting any more kissing ideas.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to smell your breath or anything. Did you get sick before?” He pried my hand away from my face and placed it back down by my side. “I figured that’s why you ran out. I was waiting by the bathroom for you.”

My chest constricted at the way he looked at me with such hopeful, concerned eyes. They should have been narrowed, like everyone else’s. “Lonnie, I like you, I do.”

“Uh oh.” He snapped his hand back, shoving it deep in his pocket. “I hope this is the alcohol talking.”

“I just got out of a relationship.” After all my lies, it felt good for once to tell the truth. “I’m not ready for another one.”

Weirdly, a grin crested his lips. “I’ll take it. It’s not a rejection. It’s an opportunity.” He tilted my chin up with his finger. “To change your mind.”

Except it wasn’t my mind he needed to change. It was his.

I couldn’t be interested in him. Not when I still couldn’t stop thinking about Finn. Not when my best friend—er…ex-best friend—wanted him.

After that, Lonnie and I started hanging out less and less. When we did hang out, our free flowing banter turned stilted. The space between our bodies grew further and further apart until we practically stood on opposite sides of the room.

Lara traded in her crutches for a permanent limp. The physical therapists stopped coming by. I wondered if Lara had finally given up and accepted reality that she would never dance again. She was lucky just to be walking. I chalked up her newfound philosophy to starting college and discovering all the other opportunities available to her. Maybe she didn’t need dancing anymore.

I certainly didn’t.

Displaying 3 out of 403 comments.

Crista
said…

And now you made me look bad too! No one believe what you read here, okay?

Amanda
said…

I believe ever word. Rock on, Kasey.

Finn
said…

Dude, pretty sure there’s something she wants way more than dancing. ;-) At least that’s what she told Hayden in R265.

WITH ANOTHER FIVE HUNDRED dollars drained from the family bank account, I’d run out of money to cover Lara’s frivolous spending. I’d asked her about it countless times over the last few days but each time she played the victim and either ignored my question or shot me through the heart with a reminder of what I did to her. Each morning she’d be gone by the time I left for school and wouldn’t return until after I’d snuggled into bed. I’d woken up earlier and earlier every day but I somehow always missed her departure.

So I stayed up all night, staking my perch at the kitchen table so as not to miss her. The sun was still off duty, and darkness cast ominous shadows on the furniture. All with the backbeat of my dad’s snores echoing from upstairs. I stared at my cell phone, sitting silently on the table. Finn didn’t write back. Except for his last comment—and I did mean
last
—his room number.

I’d run out of blog, so if he didn’t respond to my email, I probably would never hear from him again. I gripped the edge of the table to keep me from shattering.

Lara limped into the entryway, clutching the wall for support. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I yawned for emphasis.

She nodded at me as she backed out of the room.

When the door slammed behind her, I scrambled out of my chair and hustled after her. Less than a month into the school year and I was ditching school. It wasn’t a coincidence that ditching meant I wouldn’t have to face Lonnie and Denise.

Lara limped to the end of the block, taking each step as if it required great effort. What would have taken me one minute took her twenty. I trailed her nine blocks to the subway, merging with crowds of pedestrians whenever I thought Lara might turn around. Despite her injury, she chose to go to a subway stop father away from our usual one—the one that I took to get to ManPrep. No wonder she left so early. On a normal day, I would have been halfway to school already despite leaving the house two hours after her.

She descended the subway stairs, and I waited until she disappeared below before I followed. Lara lowered herself into a wooden seat on the platform, avoiding eye contact with the strangers near her. I pulled Dad’s Yankee hat over my eyes and blended behind a group of commuters each lost in their own world of music. They reminded me of Lonnie.

Another pang stung my chest.

Lights and a roaring horn warned of an oncoming subway. Lara eased herself off the chair and limped toward the train. The doors started zooming closed behind her. I sprinted toward the next car and the doors almost crushed me as I squeezed through their half-open entryway. By the time the train sprung into motion, I was out of breath and on my way to a heart attack.

Pressing myself against the window helped me watch the passengers file out of the cars station after station. With each stop, more passengers exited until the crowded car grew sparse. Finally, Lara came into view stepping over the threshold. I wedged my foot in the door so it wouldn’t close on me and trap me inside. The doors bumped my foot and shot back like elevators detecting an obstruction.

“Watch your freaking foot, kid!” yelled one of the remaining passengers.

Lara reached the turnstile.

“Stand clear of the closing doors,” an automated announcement said.

Once Lara made it to the stairs, I exited the train and the doors collided shut behind me.

Phew.

Lara limped another few blocks before turning a corner. Skyscrapers cast her in dark shadows. I thought we’d get out somewhere in the East Village, where Tysh College was located, but we blended with business suits in the crowded streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

The most recent ATM withdrawal came from Hell’s Kitchen.

She turned into a building with glass walls covering the entire bottom floor, exposing a large dance studio. Muscular dancers stretched on the wooden floor.

My stomach dropped. Lara was taking dance classes? She couldn’t even walk straight. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved—maybe just maybe I hadn’t ruined her life forever—or terrified that this was how her injury had gotten worse.

Lara set her bag down in the far corner of the room, keeping her back to the window. While the other girls stretched, Lara eased herself onto the floor and straightened out her legs. The other dancers kept their distance from her, leaving a good ten feet of space on the floor, as if she repelled them with an invisible shield.

I knew how that felt.

I crushed the hat beneath my armpit and entered the lobby.

“Are you new?” said a woman, attaching a microphone to the elastic on her sweat pants.

Good. If she was the teacher, she could answer my questions. “Is Lara Fishbein in your class?” A stupid opaque wall blocked my view of Lara.

The woman pursed her lips. “Listen, her injury didn’t happen at this studio despite the rumors going around. Just give her some space. That’s what I told the other students. I’m Erika,” she said as we shook hands. “Did you bring a change of clothes?” She eyed my jeans. “If not, it’s fine, but you’ll need to go barefoot.”

She thought I was here to dance. That meant I looked like a dancer to her, still. My brain was screaming, “
Tell her you’re a dancer! Join her class! Yayyayayayay!”
I forced other words out through gritted teeth. “I’m just here for Lara.”

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it?” She put her hand to her chest. “God, I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to me. There’s a rumor going around that she used to be one of New York’s most promising students and now she’s been kicked out of every studio in town.”

Every studio in town
. I bet each class she was kicked out of lined up with an ATM around the corner from it.

“Anyway, I’ve been fighting with the owner of the studio,” Erika continued, “I don’t want to give up on her too, but even with the liability waiver, they’re not taking any chances.”

Liability waiver? Uh oh.

“— And the studio owner’s been pushing me to find someone who’ll convince her to leave. She gave me a heart attack the other day when she fell. Had to dismiss everyone early.”