Choker (10 page)

“That’s not true,” Zoe said indignantly. “You’re a thousand times nicer and cuter than Alexis Bitchmobile. He just hasn’t realized it yet. But he will eventually—I know it.”

Cara shrugged and collapsed on the gray blanket. “I’m happy for crumbs. I did get to talk with him alone.”

Zoe blinked. “Wait. Was this the first time you’d actually been
alone
with a cute guy?”

Cara thought briefly about denying it—she knew how lame it was—but it was no good around Zoe. She nodded.

Zoe stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her palms. “Okay, so be honest. Have you been out on a date yet? Even in a group?”

Cara shook her head. “No. Never. I’ve barely been to any parties since high school started.” She sighed and sank down in front of Zoe on her knees. “I know how lame that sounds.”

Zoe smiled. “Whatever. You don’t have to worry about sounding lame in front of me. But wait, I’m not done.”

Cara sort of wished she’d drop this particular line of questioning, but Zoe was pinning her in place with the force of her violet eyes.

Zoe leaned forward. “Have you ever kissed a guy before?” Her voice was low and conspiratorial. Her breath smelled a little stale.

Cara shook her head. “No. See how screwed I am? I’m seventeen, and I’ve still never kissed anyone!”

“So how are you going to know what to do when you finally do kiss a guy?” Zoe raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t know. Get a book out of the library?” Cara giggled nervously.

Zoe scooted a little closer. She hadn’t shaved her legs in a while, and dark hairs sprinkled the white flesh of her thighs. “Well, you should practice,” she said.

Cara barked a laugh. “Right. With a pillow? Or maybe Samson?”

“No, dumbass.” Zoe playfully smacked her shoulder. “With me.” She leaned forward and put both hands on Cara’s blue-jeaned knees.

“What?” Cara wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“I’ll practice kissing with you. That way, the next time the situation comes up, you’ll be ready.” Her eyes stared directly into Cara’s.

Cara shifted a little on the gray blanket. She could feel the scratchy wool pricking her through her jeans. What Zoe was saying did make sense. She couldn’t deny all the times she’d thought in panic that she was going to look like a total idiot when—
if
—some guy ever did want to kiss her, remote as that possibility seemed. “Well, okay,” she said slowly.

Zoe grinned and arranged herself cross-legged so that she was facing Cara. Their knees almost touched. “Okay,” Zoe said. “The first thing you want to do is close your eyes.”

“Right.” Cara closed her eyes. “I already knew that one.” She stared at the darkness on the inside of her eyelids. She could hear Zoe rustle a little next to her.

“Then, you just part your lips a little, but don’t purse them. You have to keep them soft.”

Cara did as instructed. She felt kind of stupid, sitting there with her eyes closed in the middle of a barn, with her female best friend. But she didn’t have much time to muse on it, because she felt Zoe’s soft hands on her shoulders and sensed her leaning close. Without thinking, Cara started to open her eyes. She just caught a blurred glimpse of Zoe very close to her.

“Don’t open your eyes!” Zoe barked. Cara obediently squeezed them shut again.

“Then you just want to press your lips very softly against his, like this,” Zoe said. Cara felt Zoe’s cheek brush hers and then Zoe’s lips pressing against her own. After a second, Cara started to pull away, but Zoe’s nails bit into Cara’s shoulders. Her lips were insistent. Cara’s eyes flew open, and she started in surprise. Zoe’s eyes, ringed with smeared mascara, were staring right into her face.

Cara jerked away. “I thought you said to close your eyes.”

Zoe smiled, apparently unruffled. “I said
you
should close your eyes. I didn’t say anything about me. I was being the guy, and usually they don’t close their eyes. They’re weird like that.”

Cara didn’t say anything.

“You want to try it again?” Zoe asked. Without waiting for Cara to answer, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against Cara’s. For a brief instant, a wave of claustrophobia swept over Cara, as if the walls of the barn were closing in around them. The world was consumed by Zoe’s closeness to her. She tried to pull back, but she felt strangely immobile. The grit on the barn floor pressed painfully into her knees. Then she felt Zoe’s lips pressing harder against hers and then the tip of Zoe’s tongue touched the tip of hers like an electric shock.

Cara choked and broke away from Zoe, scrambled to her feet. She stared down at her friend, who still knelt on the blanket, her hands on her bare knees, smiling placidly up at Cara. She glowed in the dimness of the barn as if lit from within.

“Well, what do you think?” Zoe asked. Her voice was calm and friendly, as if asking what Cara thought of a new movie. “Do you feel better now? You’ll be totally prepared the next time you and Ethan are alone together, right?”

Cara didn’t say anything. Zoe stared at her.

“Right, Cara?” she asked more insistently.

“Right,” Cara heard herself whisper. Her voice sounded as if it were coming from a great distance.

Zoe nodded, satisfied by this answer. She rose to her feet and grabbed Cara’s icy hand with her own warm one. “Come on, I’m freezing. Let’s get out of here.”

Cara let Zoe run her out of the barn into the rain. The sky had darkened, and black clouds rolled overhead. Thunder boomed and a streak of lightning flashed across the eastern sky. Cara looked at Zoe, and they both screamed, then burst into laughter.

“Come on!” Zoe shouted over the wind. She grabbed Cara’s hand, and they raced across the fields, stumbling, their wet hair tangled across their faces. “We’re going to get soaked!” Zoe yelled, panting. Like a dream upon waking, Cara felt the memory of what had just happened recede, like the silent barn behind them, fading into the trees.

Chapter 11

“R
EMEMBER HER?” CARA POINTED. “SHE WOULD LICK
the palms of her hands in class!”

Zoe’s dark head bent over the fourth-grade yearbook spread across her lap. She squinted at the page. “Sort of. What was her name? Leila?”

“Leah. She always smelled like dried spit.” Cara shuddered at the memory and flipped the page. She pulled the rumpled bedcovers farther up on her lap. It was four o’clock and she had yet to leave her room, except for a few turkey-sandwich forays. Behind them on the laptop,
On the Waterfront
played silently. Cara had wanted to prove to Zoe how much Ethan looked like a young Marlon Brando.

“Oooh, I hated fourth grade,” Zoe said, stretching her arms over her head. “That was when I tried to run away that first time, remember? My stepdad got even worse after that.”

“I remember.” Cara shifted uncomfortably on the bed. That was when she’d started playing with Jill Westerfeld a lot. They’d do chalk drawings in Jill’s driveway and see how far they could jump off her front porch. Zoe hadn’t liked that very much. Or at all. Cara thought of her own panic when Zoe had screamed that she was leaving, since Cara didn’t need her anymore—she had Jill. Cara had grabbed her friend’s backpack off her back and fell down on the floor of Zoe’s room, screaming and begging her to stay. They found Zoe hiding in a Dumpster outside of Wendy’s by the highway, Zoe told her when she returned two days later. And her stepdad never let her forget it. Cara stopped going over to Jill’s after that—chalk drawings and sleepovers weren’t worth losing Zoe. Nothing was worth losing Zoe.

Now her friend slid onto the floor next to a stack of old magazines. She picked up a copy of
InStyle
and leafed through it. “Look, you could do this with your new cut.” She held up the magazine, and Cara leaned forward to examine a model with a sleek, slicked-back style.

“That looks like a lot of gel,” she said doubtfully. A knock came at the door. Cara’s heart gave a huge leap in her chest, like a mouse trying to escape her rib cage. “Shit!”

Zoe slid into the bathroom, smooth as a snake. She closed the door soundlessly, just as Mom called, “Cara? Are you ready?”

Cara searched her brain for the event she was supposed to be ready for. She cracked the door. Mom stood there in a gray suit and gold earrings, Samson cradled in her arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Sydney’s service.” Mom looked slightly surprised. “Didn’t you remember, Cara? We’re leaving in ten minutes.” She peered over Cara’s shoulder. “Were you sleeping, honey?”

Cara resisted the urge to slam the door in her mother’s face. That probably wouldn’t go over well. She heard the bathroom shower curtain rustle, and the mouse in her chest gave another leap. She pasted on a pleasant smile. “No, I didn’t forget. I’ll be downstairs in five minutes. Just have to fix my hair.”

Mom nodded, and after giving the room one last searching glance, trailed down the hall. Cara watched her until she went downstairs, then turned back into her room. “Damn it!” she cursed, flinging open her closet door. Zoe peeked into the room from the bathroom.

“Is she gone?”

“Yes,” Cara said savagely, pulling a black jersey dress over her head. She grabbed a pair of pantyhose from her underwear drawer and stepped into them hastily.

Zoe sat on Cara’s bed, hands clasped between her knees, watching. “Wow, you really don’t want to go to Sydney’s memorial, do you?” she observed. “Those hose are going to get runs if you yank them like that.”

Cara forced herself to pull the black hose gently over her knees. “I’m just annoyed I have to spend all afternoon watching people cry over someone we all know was really a bitch. I’d rather have all my teeth pulled.” She stopped short, her hand to her mouth. “Oh, wow. Sorry. That was really mean.”

Zoe yawned. “Don’t apologize to me—I’m glad the bitch is dead. Actually, it’s nice to see you get a little bitchy. You’re so nicey-nice usually.” She flung herself back onto Cara’s unmade bed and picked up
InStyle
again.

Cara took a swipe at her hair with her hairbrush. “It must be your influence.” She sighed and set down the hairbrush. “I’m just pissy because I have to watch Alexis sob all over Ethan’s shoulder for the next hour.”

“Mmm, sounds great.” Zoe wiggled luxuriously on the bed, crooking her arm over her face. “You go on and enjoy Sydney Sob-Fest 2011. I’ll be here taking a nap on your bed.” Cara pitched a flip-flop at her head. Zoe’s laughter trailed her like a ribbon as she descended the stairs.

Outside, the afternoon sky was a deep, dazzling blue. A jet-trail traced a silver line far overhead. Cara shot a quick glance at Sydney’s house, hulking next door like a sleeping giant. It was shut up tight, the shades drawn and the front door closed. The driveway was empty of cars. Sydney’s parents had probably already gone to the church. Cara averted her eyes and hurried down the driveway.

Mom and Dad were already waiting in the Lexus with the engine running. Cara slid into the backseat. There was silence in the car as Dad backed down the driveway. Cara crossed her arms on her chest and stared out the window at the manicured houses sliding by. It wasn’t that she hated Sydney or anything, she told herself. It was just that she’d already gone through this at the school assembly. Did she really have to say good-bye to Sydney twice when once was more than enough?
Bitchy, bitchy,
Zoe said in her head.

I’m not,
Cara argued.
I just hate pretending.

In the front, Dad cleared his throat. Cara looked up in time to catch a significant glance passing between her parents.

“What?” she asked, instantly on the alert.

Mom twisted around. Her red lips shone like a candy apple against her freshly powdered face. A faint furrow was outlined between her brows. She cleared her throat. “Well, sweetie, ah, Dad and I were wondering . . .” She stopped and nervously folded her lips.

Cara looked from one parent to the next. “What’s going on?” Her heart clutched. They’d found some evidence of Zoe. A shirt left somewhere. Or worse—the police had called. They were closing in. She felt a sick sweat break out on her forehead.

Her father spoke from the driver’s seat. “We just want to know if you’re feeling all right these days, Cara. Your mother’s noticed how pale you are.”

“I feel fine,” Cara replied warily. Was it a trap to get her to admit to hiding Zoe?

Her mother sighed and glanced at Dad again. He gave her a slight nod. She turned around again. “Honey, it’s just that you’ve been spending an awful lot of time in your room this last week or so.” Her blue eyes were wide and concerned. “Dad and I were wondering if you’re under too much pressure at school. Maybe you should hold off on track until next year.”

Cara slumped back against the seat, the tension flowing out of her like a river. She exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Mom, no. God, is that all? I’m fine, okay? Track is great.” She knew she was babbling slightly, but she didn’t know where to stop. “Don’t worry about school. I’m actually doing better than ever. I really like some of the kids I’m with this year.” Her voice grew stronger.

Mom looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

“Mom! I’m sure!” Cara struggled to keep the edge from her voice. “I’m positive,” she said, more softly.

Her mother sighed and faced forward again. Dad patted her on the knee as he turned down a busy commercial street. Cara could see the yellow brick church up ahead, flanked on either side by a car dealership and a chili parlor. “I believe the service is expected to be quite large,” Dad said.

“Poor girl,” Mom said. “So young. It was awful seeing her lying there. I can’t believe it happened right next door.”

Dad pulled up in front of the church, a squat, flat-roofed building surrounded by an ugly parking lot. A few anemic shrubs straggled near the front. A plain black sign reading
SECOND METHODIST
was carved over the glass doors. The place looked more like a bank than a house of worship. “I’ll never get a parking space,” Dad said. “Marge, I’ll drop you two off. Maybe there’re some places around back.”