The Anti-Prom (23 page)

They shake their heads and shrug. Daniel offers me the joint. I pause. “No,” I sigh, remembering the last time I mixed alcohol with that stuff. “I need nicotine.”

“It’s a bad habit,” Nico tells me, his lips curling in a smile. I stare back. He’s one of the rich, preppy guys that drifts on the edge of Brianna’s clique, but it looks like he’s slumming it tonight. His white dress shirt is wet through from the pool, and his tuxedo pants droop from a thin leather belt. I offer him the bottle with a flicker of my eyebrow.

He takes it and swallows a gulp straight down. Hands it back. Smiles again.

So this is how it goes.

Suddenly I’m so tired I can barely stand. I lean back against one of the old trees, taking tiny swallows from the vodka as they pass the joint around and murmur idle conversation in hushed tones. The haze is back, still cloaked heavy around me and almost too sad to bear. Anger, I can use, but this aching melancholy? It soaks through my whole system, mixing with alcohol and the sickly sweet smell of the weed until I feel dizzy and too, too hollow.

Dante was right.

“Cool party, huh?” Nico edges a couple of steps closer to me, and I realize that most of the guys have left. Just a few people are still around. A few people, and Nico. He smiles at me, teeth white in the shadows.

“Sure. If you like this kind of thing.” I shrug, still thinking about Dante. I wonder where he even is. Did he go straight home, or out to some party with his new friends? His girlfriend? The idea chills me, so I take another sip. I miss him so much it hurts, but that won’t change a thing. It’s done. We’re finished. The last possibility of him is gone for good, and I’ve only myself to blame.

He was right. God, he was right about everything.

“You look great in that dress.” Nico doesn’t notice my fugue, or if he does, he doesn’t care. He slides in even closer, so I can feel his body just inches away; lets his gaze drift over the tight bodice and ruffled skirt. “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes at his weak line, but I don’t pull away when he leans in and kisses me unceremoniously on the lips. His mouth is soft and hot, and for a moment I think there could be a way to forget everything after all.

Hands and teeth and the tree, hard against my back; just make it all go away.

We’re both breathing heavier by the time Nico grabs my arm and begins to lead me out toward somewhere. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

No. It never does. A backseat, a dark alley; it’s all the same. I know where he’s leading; I know it too damn well. But what’s wrong with that?

And then I hear my own words, echoing back in my head.

You’re better than this. Than him.

What I told Bliss there in the dorm room, about throwing herself away on stupid guys and stupid lies. I know now that it wasn’t even true — she’s not better than this.

But I am.

I pull away.

“What?” He blinks at me, confused. “It’s cool. Nobody’s going to see.”

“How sweet.” I feel myself slip back together, a handful of broken pieces finding some kind of shape and order. The edges hurt like hell, but it’s something. Something whole. “Look at you, so worried about
my
reputation.”

Nico just reaches for me again, so I duck around him. “You know what? You’re right. A girl can’t be too careful about these things.”

I keep it light, joking even. I’m not looking for another fight, even though it’s clear I could lay him out in five seconds flat if it went that way. Nico clearly realizes it too; he scowls at me like a boy who’s lost his toy, but doesn’t try and stop me as I yank my dress straps up and walk away from him, back through the garden. I pass other couples, intertwined in the shadows, but they don’t look up. Everybody is caught up in their own drama. Everybody is just out for themselves. Sure, the barrier came down for a while tonight, in the buzz of those pranks, and the unexpected friendship of Bliss and Meg. But they’ve returned to their rightful places, and I’m still stuck on the outside, where I belong.

It’s time to go home.

“There you are!”

I’m barely ten steps away from him when Bliss comes charging toward me. She skirts the pool, looking like a slumber-party exile in that pajama outfit. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“And?” I take in her anxious expression and want to laugh. Sure,
now
I get the apology, when none of her precious friends are around to see. “I don’t want to hear it, OK?” I start to walk away, but Bliss won’t quit so easy. She trots at my heels, and for a moment I flash back to the start of all of this: back at the country club, getting roped into the whole deal to begin with. I figured it would be so, so simple. Never again.

“Jolene, wait.” Bliss grabs my arm. I fix her with a glare, but I guess she’s immune by now. “I really need to —”

“What, apologize?” I cut her off, shaking. “No need. I got the message, back inside. You know, with all your
friends
?”

I was wrong. I’m not completely numb — there’s still a slice of anger left in me for this. For her.

Bliss blushes like she’s actually ashamed. Or maybe she’s just worried about being seen with me. The pool area is quiet, lights reflecting in the dark water, but there are people still up on the balcony, and stragglers making out among the trees. “I know, I should have said something, but . . .” She trails off, biting her lip.

“But you didn’t.” I finish for her. “You didn’t do a damn thing.”

“I
know
!” She quivers. “You don’t think I get how bad that was? I felt like the worst person ever.”

“Aww,” I drawl, ignoring how distressed she actually looks. “You poor thing. You feel bad for acting like a total bitch. Hang on while I weep for you.” I’m tight-lipped, my hands clenched, mad at myself for even caring how this shallow, rich waste of space treats me. Bliss Merino has been and will always be one of
them,
and a few hours of acting buddy-buddy was never going to change that. “Are we done yet?” I glare.

“Will you just listen?” Bliss cries. Sure, because it’s all about what she wants. “I said I’m sorry!”

“You didn’t, actually,” I correct her, feeling the anger kick, like it never left. Maybe it never will. “You’ve said plenty about how bad you feel, and what a terrible person you are, but you haven’t gotten around to, you know, trying to make
me
feel better.”

Bliss blinks. “Why are you making this so hard?”

I gape. “Seriously? You’re the one sitting back while they tear me to pieces, and it’s my fault?”

“No.” She backtracks, her face anxious. “That isn’t —”

“And what are you even doing out here, where they can see?” I jerk my head over at the patio, where her clique is gathering. “I mean, I’m the lowest of the lows on your grand hierarchy. Will you have to go grovel to them too, after? Say what a trashy slut I am, just to keep your place?”

“Jolene,” Bliss pleads, her eyes filling with tears. But I’m unmoved. God forbid she smear her mascara over someone as worthless as me.

“What?” I reply, fierce. “What do you want from me? I got you that stupid diary, made sure it went where you needed it. I came through for you!”

“And so did I!” Bliss whips back. “Or are you forgetting that whole warehouse cop thing?”

I snort. “You think just because you act like a real human being out in the world, it gives you the right to be a bitch back here? That’s not how it works. Friends don’t take that crap. They stick up for each other, no matter what.” I stop dead, realizing what I’ve just said.

Friends?

But before I can take it back, Kaitlin marches down the steps, planting herself down in front of Bliss. “What the hell was that about?” Kaitlin demands, a murderous expression on her face. Up close, I can see her dress is stained with liquid, and her hair is matted against her face. “Have you gone totally insane?”

Bliss looks at her blankly.

“Yeah, what’s going on, B?” That bitch Brianna and a pack of clique girls arrive a few beats after, circling like the audience in an arena. Ready for blood. “You left booze stains all over the carpet. My parents are going to kill me.” Brianna stops, seeing me here. She curls her lip in a sneer. “Uh, shouldn’t you be gone already?”

I give a bitter laugh. “I wish.”

“Leave it, Bree.” Bliss sighs.

“Ex-cuuse me?” Brianna whirls around.

“You heard me.” Her eyes narrow. “Shut up and stop being such a bitch.”

Brianna’s mouth drops open in shock. “What are you doing even talking to her?”

“Yeah!” Kaitlin elbows her way in again. “What’s with you tonight? You ruined my dress!”

I’m ready to bail and leave these girls to their stupid drama, but then Bliss sets her face in a fierce glare and announces, “Well, you hooked up with Cameron, so I guess we’re even now.”

I stop. The clique gasps.

Kaitlin turns a bright shade of pink, spluttering. “That’s, like, ridiculous!”

“No,” Bliss says loudly. “What’s ridiculous is thinking I wouldn’t find out. Are you totally stupid, or just a total skank?”

Kaitlin’s mouth drops open. The other girls stare at her, scandalized, and for a moment, it looks like Bliss will come out the victor in this showdown. Then Kaitlin launches herself at Bliss with an almighty screech. “You’re lying!”

“Eugh . . . Get off me!” Bliss backs up, trying to ward off Kaitlin’s attack. “Owww!”

I watch them, amazed. Kaitlin’s pulling at Bliss’s hair with one hand, while the other swats away at her body, while Bliss struggles to push her away.

“You take it back!”

“I saw you with him, in the limo!” Their shrieks fill the yard, but neither girl manages a single decent punch. Nope, it’s all girly scratching and hair-tugging as they reel back, dangerously close to the water.

God, these girls can’t fight for anything.

I stay on the sidelines, wondering if I should step in, but finally, a guy pushes through the crowd and tries to separate them. “Kaitlin, let her go!” He drags her away, still kicking. “What are you doing? Get a grip!”

“On what?” Bliss recovers. “Your dick?”

I can’t help it — I burst out laughing. But I’m the only one.

Cameron looks back and forth between them. His face changes, as slowly he realizes what’s going on.

“B —” he starts, guilty, but Bliss just yanks her tank top back into place.

“Don’t even try. You deserve each other.” Bliss looks past him, at Brianna and all the other vultures, watching wide-eyed. “Hell, you all do.”

For a second, it looks as if she’s about to stalk off with her head held high, but then she pauses, and a wicked smile comes over her face. Two quick steps, and she’s in front of Cameron, her hands planted firmly in the middle of his chest. She shoves him, hard.

He lands in the pool with an almighty splash.

She turns to Kaitlin.

“No way!” she screeches, but Bliss is already moving. They tussle for a moment, knocking into me, and then Kaitlin loses her footing. She grabs at Bliss, who yanks at my arm for balance.

For a moment, we’re all teetering on the edge of the pool, then gravity takes over, and we fall.

“I’m thinking law, or maybe poli-sci, so that means Harvard — of course — and then Yale, Cornell, Columbia . . .” Tristan ticks them off. “My dad is pushing Duke, so we’ll take a trip out to visit in the fall, but I don’t know . . . I think I can do better.”

“Mmmhmm,” I murmur happily, perched just inches away from him. The party is winding down now — or at least, the music is — and people have split off into groups to laze around, talk, and even sleep; sprawled in piles of blankets in the darker corners of the house. Tristan drapes one arm over the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing my bare shoulder. The touch sends shivers through me, and in my breathless haze, it takes everything I have to even focus on a single word he says.

“It’s the extracurriculars that kill you — you better look out for that,” he’s telling me helpfully, “but I’ve been packing my résumé with all that volunteering stuff since I was, like, in preschool. The only thing I’m not sure about is sports.” He frowns, the light behind him shining through his hair in a perfect blond halo. “I’ve been on the swim team, but do you think that’s enough?”

“I don’t know, it should be.” I lean forward to take a sip of my soda and then sit back, this time close enough for my whole left arm to press against his body. My thoughts scatter at the contact, but I recover. “I, umm, don’t have any sports, and the guidance counselor said —”

“But it’s kind of late to start anything,” Tristan interrupts, still pondering his future applications. “They always can tell if you join stuff senior year. Maybe I should do another internship this summer. I’m already lined up at my dad’s office, but I could throw in some time teaching, like, disadvantaged kids how to play softball. Two hits in one!”

“Right.” I look up at his face: tanned, and perfect, and looking straight at me, as if there’s nobody else around. I smile back at him. “That sounds like a great idea.”

We stay in the den for a while, chatting about college applications and his plans for summer vacation, until a group of seniors arrives armed with pillows and claims the room as a designated sleep area.