She's So Dead to Us (14 page)

“How could you do that to Chloe?” Shannen asked. “How do you even live with yourself after you stab someone in the back like that?”

“Shannen, I know how it looked, but honestly, it was just a kiss—”

“A very long, very horizontal kiss,” she said, snatching the ball back again.

“I know, but it was the worst night of my life,” I said. “I didn’t even know what was going on. My parents were screaming at each other, and my dad was yelling at me to pack and I didn’t even know where we were going or why. All I knew was that my dad had fucked up and he’d lost our house and everyone was mad at us and we were never coming back. That was it. And then Hammond took the shortcut over and climbed up to my room, and he was all upset and saying all this stuff about how he was going to miss me and he wished I’d said yes when he’d asked me out and all this crap, and we just . . . kissed.”

Shannen stared at me as if she was letting this sink in. As if she was trying to decide whether or not to believe it.

“It’s the truth, Shannen,” I said. “I would never do anything to hurt any of you guys. You know that. I was just . . . I wasn’t me.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but the whistle blew.

“Line it up! Let’s do some warm-ups, people! Come on!” Coach clapped her hands a few times. I felt like the real world with all its lights and sounds and colors was suddenly flooding in on me. It made me temporarily dizzy, and I had to shut my eyes. As the rest of the players lined up for drills, Shannen and I didn’t move. We stood in the middle of the court, facing off.

“Why haven’t you told her?” I asked. “Why have you kept it a secret all this time?”

“Because it would kill her,” Shannen answered. “I have a little thing called a conscience. That’s why I didn’t mail your invitation to her sweet sixteen with all the others. I didn’t want you and Hammond hooking up in the coat room or something on the biggest night of her life.”

So that explained it. The sweet sixteen confusion. Shannen had taken matters into her own hands.

“We would never have done that,” I said, my voice a croak.

“So you say.” She looked down, bounced the ball once, then caught it in both hands. “Anyway, I also figured that keeping your secret kind of made us even.”

“Even? For what?”

“You’ve kept my secret, and I’ve kept yours,” she said.

Right. Her secret. I was the only person in the world who knew what had really happened the night her brother, Charlie, ran away. I knew that Shannen’s father came home drunk and went nuts when he found out Charlie had crashed his mom’s car. And I knew that whatever threats he was making had scared Shannen enough to run to my house and call the police. Her dad had been arrested and thrown in jail for the night to sober up, and her brother was gone by the time their dad got home. Shannen’s father had gotten probation and community service for disturbing the peace, since Charlie was eighteen and not around to bring charges, but after that Shannen’s father just got mean. And he started drinking even more than he already did—always saying that if he ever found out who called the police on him that night, he’d kill them. I could still see Shannen trembling with fear that night in my dad’s home office. Could still see the look of terror in her eyes the night of her dad’s court date, when she made me swear I’d never tell anyone. She blamed herself for her dad’s humiliation and her brother’s leaving. I tried to tell her that it was her dad’s fault, not hers, but she didn’t think her parents would see it that way.

“Do you . . . did Charlie ever . . . ?”

“Come home?” Shannen said. “No. He e-mails me every once in a while, but that’s it. And he made me promise not to tell my parents.”

So that made two secrets I now knew.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Arizona. Eric Toricelli went to school out there, so he’s crashing with him, taking classes and working,” Shannen said. Then she eyed me up and down. “And if you tell your mother this, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

“I know,” I said. “I know how to keep a secret, Shannen. I think I’ve shown that. So I guess that means I’m not the worst person in the world.”

Shannen exhaled through her nose, then cracked a small smile. “Maybe not the worst.”

“Ladies! Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” Coach shouted at us. “Let’s go!”

We turned together and walked toward the opposite end of the gym. For the first time since I’d been back, I felt comfortable being in the same room with Shannen. It was a tentative feeling, but it was there. So that was our truce. We each knew something about the other that we didn’t want anyone else to know.

It wasn’t much, but I would take it.

I used to think there was nothing worse than having my mom’s voice pop into my head when I was hooking up with a girl. But I was wrong. There is something worse. It’s when I’m hooking up with a girl and my mom’s voice
and
Ally’s voice
and
the voice of my stupid fucking SAT tutor
all
pop into my head at the same time.

“Jake? What’s wrong?” Lisa Freckles asked as I pulled away for the fifth time. Her name wasn’t really Lisa Freckles. It was just that I couldn’t ever remember her last name, and she had lots of freckles on her shoulders.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Good.” She smiled. She had a nice smile, especially now that she’d gotten her braces off. “Then come back.”

She pulled me to her and kissed me. All around us my friends were partying like the rock stars they thought they were. It was Chloe’s seventeenth birthday, and her parents had rented out the entire Houston Hotel in New York. We all had rooms to go back to after the party so we could drink as much as we wanted and they wouldn’t have to worry about us getting home.

Yeah. That was Chloe’s dad for you. If he’d lost some of his money with Ally’s father like everyone else had, he probably still would have found a way to throw this party. Chloe was the center of his universe, or so he was always telling her. It was just too bad that Chloe was freezing Ally out even though her family hadn’t been affected. Because otherwise Ally would be here and maybe I could be making out with her instead of Lisa Freckles. Except that Ally would be making out with David Drake. Was that what they were doing right now? Hooking up at some party? Dorkus Drake got to kiss Ally Ryan whenever he wanted. In what universe was that okay?

And now I was thinking about her again. Sonafabitch. I pressed Lisa Freckles back into the couch, trying to concentrate on her and only her. She was a cool girl. We’d gone to a concert together last summer and actually had fun. She deserved some concentration.

C
onflagration is to fire as tsunami is to what?
my SAT tutor said in my ear.

I kissed her harder, trying to shut out the voice. Lisa moaned a little.

Kissing Lisa Freckles is to kissing Ally Ryan as what is to what?
Ally’s voice teased.

I shoved my fingers into Lisa’s hair.

You have to break thirteen hundred this time, Jake. Fordham does not accept scores beneath thirteen hundred
, my mom snapped.

I pulled away again, faked a cough, and grabbed my drink, downing half of it in one gulp. It didn’t stop the voices. And Lisa was tugging on my shirt. I took a deep breath and sighed. This was going to be a very long night.

A peal of familiar laughter caught my attention, and Shannen, Faith, and Chloe all semistumbled into the room, clearly drunk. They were cracking up uncontrollably as they teetered over and dropped down onto the couch. Chloe was so out of it, she half sat on my lap, then slid off to the side.

“This is the best birthday ever!” she cheered, throwing her arms up. Champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass onto my leg. There’s a reason Chloe hardly ever drinks. She gets sloppy and loud.

“You know it!” Shannen said, finishing off her own champagne.

“Oh, but I wish Ally was here.” Chloe stuck out her bottom lip and leaned her head on my shoulder. My heart skipped at the mention of Ally. I shot Lisa a look of apology for the interruption. She sat up straighter and smoothed her hair.

“You so do
not
!” Faith countered, shoving Chloe’s knee. “We hate Ally.”

“Exactly,” Shannen said with a nod.

“Yeah, but . . . don’t you feel kinda bad for her?” Chloe said, blinking rapidly. “I mean, she lives in a condo, her mom’s all depressed, and her dad’s, like, a waiter . . . ” She sipped her champagne. “It’s just sad.”

Shannen and Faith looked at one another as if they’d just been told they won a lifetime supply of nail polish.

“Wait. What?” Shannen blurted.

“Her dad’s a what?” Faith added.

Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth. She looked at me, wide-eyed.

“I thought no one knew where her dad was,” Shannen said, sitting forward.

“I don’t. I mean, they don’t. No one does.” Chloe got up, steadied herself on her high heels, and looked around. “Where’s my cake? I want my cake now. Mom!?” She waved her hands over her head, trying to get her mother’s attention from across the room. Her mother looked over disapprovingly.

Shannen got up and grabbed Chloe’s arm. “You know where Ally’s dad is?”

“No.” Chloe shook her head.

“Yes, you do. You said he’s a waiter,” Shannen said hungrily. “Is he working for your dad or something? At one of his restaurants?”

Chloe hesitated. “I can’t talk about this.”

“Chloe—”

“No. It’s my birthday, and I don’t have to talk about this if I don’t want to.”

At that moment, Chloe’s parents arrived. Chloe looked up at her tall, broad, seriously intimidating father.

“Can we do the cake now?” she pleaded.

“Of course! You’re the birthday girl!” he said in a booming voice.

As her parents whisked her away, Shannen tried to go after them.

“Shannen, leave it,” I said, standing.

“What?” Her eyes flashed angrily. “No, Jake, you don’t understand. This is huge.”

I’ll bet. And I had a feeling that whatever Shannen’s reasons were for wanting to know where Ally’s dad was, she didn’t have Ally’s feelings in mind.

“But it’s Chloe’s birthday, and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Just leave her alone.”

Shannen hesitated. She looked over her shoulder at the front of the room, where two hotel workers were rolling out a huge pink cake.

“Whatever. Since when are you all on Chloe’s side?” she groused.

This wasn’t about Chloe. It was about Ally. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. “Just relax, all right? It’s a party.”

“Everyone! Let’s gather around to sing happy birthday!” Mrs. Appleby called out, holding Chloe around the waist tightly as if trying to keep her upright.

We all moved to the front of the room, Lisa wrapping her arm around me. I held my breath while everyone else sang happy birthday, and I watched Faith and Shannen whisper in a way that could not be good. Not for Ally. Not for Chloe. Not for anyone.

“Anyone want anything else?” my mother asked, placing her fork down on her empty plate.

“No, thank you. I’m stuffed,” Gray Nathanson said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Gray’s daughter, Quinn, folded her hands primly in her lap. She had straight blond hair, a smattering of freckles, and the most perfect posture I’d ever seen outside of Chloe’s. I suspected she wasn’t overly happy to be there, since she hadn’t cracked a smile all night and hadn’t said more than three words at a time, but she’d been very polite. “Everything was delicious.”

“Seriously, Ms. Ryan. I may never eat at home again,” David said.

And suddenly everyone was looking at me.

“Yeah. It was great,” I said halfheartedly.

Really I just wanted to get this dinner over with as quickly as humanly possible. It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Mom had decided to invite over her new boyfriend and his perfectly gorgeous daughter for dinner. Of course, she hadn’t felt the need to share this plan with me until four this afternoon. Until then I hadn’t known about either the dinner or the fact that she considered him her boyfriend. As soon as I heard the word come out of her mouth, I was on the phone with David begging him to join us. Which he had. Because he was the best boyfriend ever.

“Did you like your stuffed pepper, Ally?” Gray asked me.

My mother placed her hand on Gray’s arm, which was resting on the table, elbows off, of course. He looked down at her fingers and smiled. Ick. Did people their age really think that the rest of us wanted to be subjected to their PDA?

“Ally? Gray asked you a question,” my mother said.

“Oh, yeah,” I replied, pushing my fork into the grayish mush at the center of the hollowed-out green pepper on my plate—the one thing Gray had contributed to the meal and the only thing I hadn’t eaten. “It’s great.”

“You haven’t even tasted it,” Quinn said snidely.

Okay. So much for polite.

But, then, Quinn was fourteen, a freshman, and a Crestie. I was sure she’d been programmed to hate me by the behavior of, the gossip from, and the general vibe coming off my former friends—older, influential Cresties whom she no doubt worshipped. Also, I had to cut her some slack. She’d lost her mom to cancer a few years ago, while mine was alive and well and awesome.