The Anti-Prom (22 page)

She glares at me for a second, then pulls herself together. “So cute!” She squeals, coming closer to admire it. “Cam always has the best taste.”

“Not always,” I say sweetly, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “But this time, he does.”

Cameron flushes, trapped between me and Kaitlin. Now, at least, he’s got the decency to look guilty.

“Thanks, sweetie,” I coo, pulling him down for another kiss, a real one this time. I count to ten with my tongue in his mouth, hearing the other guys whoop and Brianna complaining for us to get a room. “Later.” I wink, coming up for air.

Kaitlin scowls, stomping out of the room. I step away from Cameron, but he grabs at me. “I said later.” I try to laugh, crossing quickly to the fridge to put some space between us.

I pour a glass of water, listening as the gang talks behind me. It’s suddenly hot in here — hot, and loud, and way too packed with people. I feel dizzy.

“You OK?”

I jump at the voice. Courtney is looking at me, concerned.

“Yup! Fine!” I realize the machine is still running, spilling water into the overflow. I turn it off and give her a bright grin. “What about you — any new developments?” I nod in Kellan’s direction to distract her. He’s arm wrestling Nico for the last of the chips, his biceps straining against his shirt. Courtney sighs, getting this glazed look in her eyes, and right away, I’m forgotten.

“No, but we danced together earlier, which has to mean something, right? I mean, it wasn’t a slow song or anything, but he was focused on me the whole time. OK, so maybe not the whole time, because I saw him checking out Taryn’s butt, but like, it’s Taryn’s butt — it would be weird if he
didn’t
look. . . .”

By four a.m., I’m ready to sleep for twenty hours straight, but somehow, the party is still going strong. Music thumps from the living room, a bunch of football guys are playing table hockey on the formal dining table, and our group has colonized the den to chill out and pick over the gossip of the night. At least, they are: sprawled on the couch with Cameron as my personal pillow, I can barely stay awake to pay attention.

“. . . in pink instead. Don’t you think, B?”

“What?” I yawn, looking around.

Brianna laughs, throwing popcorn at my head. “Don’t worry, just planning. Go back to sleep.”

“I can take you home, if you want.” Cameron leans down, checking that I’m OK. All night, he’s been acting like the best boyfriend ever, fetching me drinks and asking if I need a sweater — and ignoring Kaitlin. It’s everything a girl could want.

Except that whole cheating part.

“No,” I say quietly. “I’m good.” As if I’m going to leave early, and risk him coming back here to be with her.

“No freaking way!” Brianna suddenly shrieks, sitting bolt upright. “What the hell is
she
doing here?”

They all look.

“You’re kidding me!” Kaitlin’s voice is full of scorn. “I mean, showing up at prom is one thing. But this is, like, a private party!”

I pull myself upright to see what’s got them so worked up.

It’s Jolene.

She’s hanging with some senior boys in the hallway, a full beer bottle dangling from one hand. She looks tired, and kind of sad too, but when she hears Kaitlin’s loud bitching, her eyes narrow. She turns this way.

“This had better be good.” Brianna snorts as Jolene saunters into the room.

“Hey, everybody,” she drawls, slow and sarcastic. The badass exterior is back. “What’s up?”

“Uh, you mean apart from you gate-crashing?” Brianna doesn’t get up; she just lounges there, looking down her nose at Jolene.

“Well, it’s not exactly the most exclusive guest list.” Jolene looks around the room, her eyes stopping on Kaitlin. She smirks. “Looks like you’ll invite just about anyone.”

I stiffen. It’s one thing to have Jolene knowing the truth when we’re out there, away from everyone. But here, in the same room, with all my secrets? I gulp.

“Relax,” Jolene adds, as if she can hear my panic. “I’m just having some fun. Getting to know my fellow students.”

“Wrong party.” Brianna flashes a fake smile. “Your crowd is hanging out by the railroad tracks. You know, down with the bums and druggies.”

I catch the flicker in Jolene’s expression, but I don’t say a word. I just slip lower beside Cameron and hope she walks away.

“Drugs?” Jolene drawls. “Gee, and there I was thinking I’d just have to find your big brother. Didn’t he have that problem? You know.” She mimes a sniff.

Brianna gets this murderous look on her face. “Like you can judge. What are you, like, some kind of crack baby?”

The gang bursts out laughing. Jolene looks over at me. I let my eyes drift shut, pretending like I’m napping until she looks away.

“Don’t worry,” Kaitlin coos, “you can’t help it. It’s like, being born with bad hair or a weird nose or . . . whoops, I guess you got those too.”

There’s more laughter, everyone smirking like we’re so much better than Jolene.

“What can I say?” Kaitlin beams. “Some people can’t get over their genes.”

“And some people can’t get over being a skanky bitch,” Jolene snaps back, but I know her by now, and I can tell she’s rattled.

Still, I don’t move.

“Whatever.” Brianna sighs, acting bored. “Nobody wants you here, so why don’t you just head on back to the trailer park, and maybe we’ll see you around — working at McDonald’s.”

“It’s Dairy Queen,” Courtney pipes up.

Brianna laughs, delighted. “Right! I’ll remember to tip you extra next time.”

Jolene sends me one last look, as if to say, “
These
are your friends?” I close my eyes again, waiting until she’s walked away and Brianna and the girls erupt in a frenzy of post-showdown bitching.

“Can you believe her nerve?”

“I know! You should totally call the cops on her; I bet she’s going to steal stuff.”

I listen to them, feeling a low flush of shame. But what am I supposed to say —“Hold up, guys, Jolene is OK; we’ve been hanging out all night”? Like that would play well with this crowd. No, that would only raise more questions, like what we were off doing together, and why. So I keep quiet, and soon, the girls get tired of bitching over Jolene and her nerve and move on to more important things, like coordinating outfits for the seniors’ graduation and how they can convince their parents to let them spend a month backpacking through Europe this summer. But even though the showdown is quickly forgotten to them, I can’t shake my guilt. The way Jolene stared at me, it was like I was the worst kind of person — lower than Kaitlin even, because at least she didn’t look me in the eye while she had her hands down Cameron’s pants.

Cameron. He’s still sitting next to me, stroking my hair. I feel something shift inside me. I know the plan was to sit back and look innocent until this thing blew up in their faces, but even the touch of his hand makes me want to break something. Why did I ever think I could pretend like I was OK with all his cheating and lies?

Maybe because I’ve been pretending so long, I’ve got it down to an art.

“What do you think?” I nudge Cameron quietly.

“About what?”

“Jolene.”

He shrugs, pushing back his damp hair. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” I press him. “What do you think of her?”

Cameron looks blank. “I guess, she’s kind of a freak, right?” He reaches for the bottle of champagne, offering it to me first with another of those puppy dog grins.

Was it good?

I’ve been blocking the actual memory of him and Kaitlin all night, but now I can’t stop the picture of them together. His hands on her skin, her tongue on his chest.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

“Hey B, pass it my way.” Kaitlin is propped on some cushions on the floor. She rolls over, giving Cameron a view right down the front of her dress. His eyes slip down, just for a second, but it’s enough.

Screw strategy.

“You can have it.” I get up, suddenly feeling this roar of blood in my ears. Before I can think twice — hell, before I can even process what I’m about to do — I grab the champagne bottle and upend it, pouring the whole damn thing over her.

Kaitlin screeches, warm alcohol dripping from her head. “What the hell?”

The whole group is staring at me like I’ve gone insane. Brianna has her mouth dropped wide open, and even Nikki manages to blink through her drunken stupor.

“Have you lost your mind?” Kaitlin is whimpering, wiping at her face. Her hair is hanging in damp clumps, and the booze clings to her dress in wet, sticky patches. She looks ridiculous.

I start to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Kaitlin screeches again. Courtney rushes to her, passing someone’s sweater to help dry her off, but the rest of them stay frozen, looking at me in shock. Brianna’s face darkens.

This is it, I realize — either I shut the hell up and pretend it’s all a joke, or I finish this for good. No going back.

So I don’t.

“You know what?” I tell Kaitlin, still sitting there on the floor. “Have everything. I don’t want it anymore.” Reaching behind me, I undo the clasp on Cameron’s pendant and drop it in her lap as I walk past. Despite the limp, the socks, and the fact that I just screwed up my entire social life, I sashay out of that room like I’m strutting on three-inch heels.

I’m done with them.

Their insults slice through me, worse than any slap to the face. I spin quickly and stride out of the room before they can see the damage, hurrying down the fancy hallways to get away. Get the hell out of there. Pushing past drunk guys and giggling girls, I finally slip into the empty cloakroom and sink back, falling behind the layers of coats and jackets until I hit the wall. Something solid.

I take a breath. I shouldn’t be so shaken. I shouldn’t even care. It’s nothing but the same petty bitching I’ve ignored for the last three years of school, but for some reason, it was different in there. It was Bliss.

An unfamiliar hurt stings in my veins. I feel stupid even realizing it, but after everything we’ve been through tonight, I counted on some kind of loyalty, the smallest amount of support. But instead, she just sat there, draped over the boyfriend who screwed around on her, laughing along with the friends she’s been plotting all night to destroy.

Nothing’s changed.

The thought is bitter like metal in my mouth. Tonight wasn’t a turning point, or any kind of new beginning. Back at my dad’s house, out on that golf course, I had almost convinced myself that these games meant something. That it wasn’t just canvas and paint going up in flames, but the past, too. Now I see it’s not so easy. Even if I change, everybody else stays the same.

I lurch back out into the party, determined to break this damn haze that’s still clouding me. Why should I let them cut me down to size? Why should I even care? Let them play their cruel games with each other — I’ll be gone soon enough. The faces blur as I shove my way through, ignoring yelps of protest. They should know by now to get out of my way.

Then I see a flash of someone familiar. Meg’s over in the dining room, watching the table hockey game. She looks breathless and happy for some reason, and as the crowd shifts, I see that reason slip his arm around her shoulders, grinning down at her. Tristan.

So, she got her Prince Charming after all. I watch them for a second, and I can’t help but be envious. Not of the status or that preppy jerk, but how damn happy she is. Meg didn’t ask the world for a thing, but there she is, granted everything she ever wanted. Sure, it’s just the same old high school bullshit — the pretty dress and the cute boy — but everything about her is shimmering with delight. Maybe that’s the trick: to expect so little from life, you never feel one ounce of disappointment. Maybe that’s my lesson.

I press on. Brianna’s stocked the bar, I’ll say that at least for her; I pluck a half-full bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter debris and head outside, away from the bright party lights toward the edge of the garden and the silhouettes lurking there. I don’t bother saying hey, or even announcing my presence; I just wander right up and plant myself in the center of the knot.

“Jo-lene Nel-son.” One of the guys drawls it, exhaling a long plume of smoke from the joint in his hand. “What’s up?”

I stare at them all, nonchalant as hell. It’s a motley collection of boys from school: some of the party jocks, a few preppy assholes, a couple of guys I recognize from detention. “You tell me.” I shrug, taking a gulp from my bottle. The vodka burns the back of my throat, fire all the way to my stomach. I don’t shudder, but somewhere inside, I feel a small pang of regret.

I thought I was done with this.

Mikey gives me a sidelong look. He should have graduated last year, but his credits fell short, and the football team was happy to keep him around. “Not your kind of party, I would have thought.”

“Want to throw me out?” I reply, enough challenge in my voice to make him hold his hands up in a kind of defeat.

“Whoa, no offense. I was just saying.”

“And now you’ve said it.” I look around at the dark faces, lurking here like they’re committing some grave crimes instead of smoking some of Mikey’s weak-ass weed. I roll my eyes, not that they’ll see it. “Anyone got a cigarette?”