The Truth about Us (9 page)

From the outside, the house is stupidly huge with a flawless yard. Not a weed in sight. There are no kids puking in bushes or throwing beer bottles at each other on the front lawn, which is a good sign, but a buzz of voices and laughter rise up from the back. There's a fence high enough to keep an illusion of privacy around the side and back, and there's enough distance between houses on the street that the neighbors probably won't complain unless things get really out of hand. It's summer, after all. Most of the neighbors are probably gone too.

“Her parents are in Europe on ‘holiday.'” He says holiday with a fake accent.

“You know Brittney?” I ask.

“Saw the party on Twitter,” he reminds me.

I do know Brittney, but he doesn't ask so I don't tell. Braxton walks ahead of me, bouncing up to the front door about to ring the bell, but I reach across him and turn the knob.

The front hallway is packed with bodies.

He grins. “
Now
it's a party.” He goes off on another riff about great parties of the past, and I kind of want him to be quiet. While nonstop chatter is endearing in some ways, it's also exhausting in others.

The air in the house is stale. Fresh oxygen is being consumed and used up by the kids jammed into the main floor. I look around, contemplating the fake plants in expensive pots in the entranceway. Beauty without commitment.

“Where's your friend?” I ask.

Braxton puts a hand on his ear. “I can't hear you.”

I point ahead, and we walk past couples in an office off the entrance, pawing at each other on cream-colored couches. I make a face on the furniture's behalf. They'll need a good cleaning after the party or maybe a note for Brittney's parents to burn them. We keep walking into the living room, but instead of giving me energy, the lively atmosphere sucks it out of me. My trying to muster up some enthusiasm fails as we press deeper into the hub of the party, and my heart sinks. I should have gone home. Pulling out the fake bubbly party personality is too tiring. Too contrived. Almost everyone is fueled by mind-altering substances, but I'm as sober as a funeral floral arrangement.

“JESS!” a voice screeches, and suddenly Nance is throwing herself at my side, hugging me tight, almost knocking me over. She stumbles and giggles as we both lose our footing in the attack.

“Whoo-hoo! You got a ‘Get out of jail for
free
card'!” she yells right in my ear, and the vibration hurts.

I force a smile and step back to give my ear some distance. Nance throws her head back and laughs and then spots Braxton. “Who is this
boy
?” She emphasizes the word
boy
and squints to look closer at him.

“Braxton, Nance; Nance, Braxton,” I say. Ugh. I want to be mad at her, but she's in no condition to even notice.

She grabs Braxton by the shoulder and spins him around.

“A little young. But nice butt,” she tells him.

He grabs her by the hand and spins her around. “You too.”

Nance giggles. “Sassy,” she shouts. “Is this your summer fling?” she yells at me.

I frown and shake my head, but she's grinding up against me. I try to laugh and dance with her, but my body's as flexible and fun as a corpse. I want to ask why she hasn't called or tried to get hold of me some other way, but there's no use in her state.

Jennifer Deering slinks up to us then. She fake-smiles at me and I fake-smile back. “Hey, Jess,” she says, but it sounds like “Get lost, loser. This is
my
best friend.” We've known each other for years, but every time I see her, it feels like we're meeting for the first time. She makes me feel like that annoying friend no one really wants to talk to, but really, right about now, Jennifer should thank me because she's inherited the role of Nance's best friend. Which she's made no secret of wanting to be.

Jennifer throws an arm around Nance's shoulder and laughs at something Braxton said. She doesn't take her eyes off me though, silently judging me as she does so well.

I should have gone home to change. My outfit is lame and smells like leftover Taco Bell. “I just got off work,” I tell her.

“You're working?” Jennifer arches a thin eyebrow.

I swallow an urge to physically push her away from me. “Kind of.” I don't say more, because we both know she knows about New Beginnings. Nance talks, and Jennifer definitely heard.

“Oh. That's right. You're doing that charity thing.” She makes a face and takes a sip of her cooler and spins away, cutting me off.

I glance to see if Braxton heard her, but he's too busy staring at her chest to register words.

“Who's this?” Jennifer smiles at Braxton, who is grinning at her, totally suckered in. There's a definite gleam in her eye too, like she wants to steal him away to show me she can.

“I'm Jennifer,” she tells him and kind of wiggles around to give him a better eyeful of her low-cut top and boobs, which are almost as big as Nance's and I suspect one of the reasons Nance chose me as her number one. My smaller cup size.

“I'm Braxton.” He grins at Jennifer, clearly charmed by her packaging. Then he keeps talking.

I shuffle my feet, wanting to escape the three of them and all the flirting and giggling. My party persona fails me as I glance around at the drinking and drugging.

“What's wrong with your face?” Nance says and pinches my cheek. “We don't do grouchy face at parties.” She lifts her hands in the air to “raise the roof.”

I paw my hand through my hair and bump Nance's hip with mine, trying to shake off my mood. “So what's new?” I ask, glancing at Jennifer, pretending to include her in the question.
I
know
how
to
do
this
, I remind myself.
This
is
my
world.

“Whoa,” Nance says. “You're way too sober and boring. Where is your alcohol, girl?”

My cheeks burn. Nance sees through me. She sees how self-conscious and ridiculous I am without alcohol. I always have a few drinks before we go out. To get me in the mood. I snatch her bottle from her hand and guzzle from it.

“We forgot to pick up booze,” Braxton says to Nance.

I glance over. More like he couldn't afford to pick some up. Nance grabs Braxton's chin and smooshes up his face. “Well, Jess needs a drink! Brittney has plenty of booze. Go.” She points to the deck. “Find this girl a drink. There's beer and stuff in the coolers on the deck.” She looks him up and down. “Help yourself.” She pushes on his back. “Get Jess a vodka cooler,” she calls as he stumbles off. “Those are her favorite.”

Braxton grins over his shoulder as he heads toward the deck.

Nance grabs her drink back from me. “So, where'd you find him? The bargain basement?”

“Nance!”

She boogies to the music pounding out from speakers in the ceiling. “What? He's cute. I'm just guessing he's financially challenged.”

“Based on what?”

Nance stops dancing. “Um. His shoes. His jeans. The way he talks.” She laughs like it's hysterical.

Jennifer laughs with her. “His style is kind of Grandpa's hand-me-downs. But he is yummy. Definite summer fling material.”

Great. Jennifer is in on that too. So stupid. They giggle together, and I shake my head, trying not to show how pissed off they're making me. “No. It's not like that.”

“Did you meet him at that place?” Nance squishes up her nose. “I mean, don't get me wrong; he's kind of adorable with his…” She makes a talking motion with her hand. “And he's nice to look at, but I'm guessing you'll be paying for your own liquor.”

“Is he your new ‘boyfriend'?” Jennifer makes air quotes around the word
boyfriend
. I have an urge to push her hard so she splats on the ground.

“Friend,” I yell. “And I didn't meet him there.” My face smolders, thinking of Flynn. What are they going to say about Flynn?

“He lives on the other side of town,” I add with an eye roll and instantly hate myself. Like I'm admitting he isn't one of us. What does it matter where he lives?

“The bad side?” Nance asks.

“Clover Lawn?” Jennifer asks and flicks her hair back.

I press my lips tight together and pretend to look for someone across the room.

“Forget boyfriend, summer fling!” Nance yells.

“Friend,” I say again but think of Flynn.

Nance rolls her eyes. “So where did you find him?” She drinks her cooler and eyeballs me.

“I met him through someone.” I shrug and glance over her shoulder, hoping she won't ask who. We know the same people.

“Penny?” Nance asks and wrinkles up her nose. “She's here, you know. At an actual party. Did you see her yet?”

My heart almost stops.
Penny is here?
I shake my head and resist the temptation to scan the room until I find her. “She's probably outside.” Nance contemplates me over her bottle. “But she's a bitch, right? Remember who your real friends are.”

Someone turns up the music, and an old rock-and-roll song comes on. Nance wiggles her hips and pumps her fists in the air. She waves at someone across the room. “My brother's here,” she tells me. “You should say hey to him. The way he's asking about you, I think he misses you more than I do.”

That thought grosses me out. Jennifer moves in closer. “Yesterday when we were suntanning, Scott tried to convince me to suntan topless so he could take pictures of me to show to his friends. What an ass!” Jennifer laughs, but her eyes gleam, letting me know she's the one spending time with Nance during the day now.

What she doesn't know is instead of feeling bad, she's making me miss the cranky seventy-five-year-old man I spend time with. I'd rather be in the greenhouse listening to him complain about his bowel movements than where I am right now.

Nance throws her head back and laughs. “You should have seen Jess's face when my mom caught her topless.” She imitates me by opening her eyes wide and wrapping her arms around her boobs, then laughs some more and throws her arm around my neck. “I miss you!”

A senior who graduated in June spots Nance and grabs her around the waist, pulling her away from me. She squeals and throws both arms around him, and he lifts her in the air. Jennifer fake squeals and then jumps at him when he puts Nance down.

With an arm around each of them, he leads them away without even a glance at me. Loneliness burns a little hole in my stomach as I watch them laugh and dance their way through the living room to the patio door. Jennifer turns for a split second before they disappear, a smug smile on her face.

I feel alone, but watching myself being replaced doesn't bother me as much as it would have a couple of weeks ago. I glance around for familiar faces, and my eyes open wider and my body temperature drops. I spot Penny. She's walking inside from the deck. Even from the distance, she looks slightly different. She's wearing eyeliner. Her reddish-brown hair is longer and curled. Her jeans are tighter than she used to wear them. They look awesome on her.

She must sense me staring at her, because she glances over and our eyes meet. A familiar look crosses her face. Sympathy. She knows I'm alone and uncomfortable. I remember the way we always understood each other across a crowded room. The music and noise disappear, and for a moment, it's only me and her in that room. I can hear her ask me if I'm okay without saying anything at all. I'm about to lift my hand and mouth
hi
when a tall guy swoops in and wraps an arm around her shoulder. He pulls her in, and her face disappears from my sight. My eyes open wider. Holy shit. That's Keith Alex. The boy she's had a crush on since seventh grade. And he's hugging her. I can't help smiling. She peeks under his arm for a minute and catches my reaction. I lift up my thumb and grin wider. Penny heaven right there. She smiles, and my heart is stuffed with happiness for her.

Keith pulls her tighter and then leans down and kisses her on the mouth. I barely resist jumping up and down on the spot, as if we're twelve years old and she's reading me what she wrote about him in her diary.

Keith sweeps her out of my view, and I stare at the empty space. Keith Alex and Penny Pierce! I want to rush over to her house later and ask every single detail of how they hooked up.

Except I can't. I miss her so much and hate myself all over again for messing up my right to be her friend anymore. Swallowing to kill my urge to cry, I dart past bodies, needing to get away. A drunken boy grabs me and steers me down a hallway, putting his arm around my shoulder and offering some of his beer. I duck under his arm and keep going until I round a corner and end up inside a kitchen. The ceiling is high and it's huge, probably four or five times the size of our kitchen at home.

The kitchen hidden away in the back of the house suggests Brittney's mom either hates to cook or doesn't want people to see her when she does. A group of kids are standing in front of a stove, close to an open window, blowing smoke outside. Noise from the backyard drifts in, and a smell hits my nose. Skunky pot. I pretend to search around for something, in case any of them cares what I'm doing.

“Yo. You're that girl,” a male voice calls. A boy leaning on the counter stares at me with squinty red eyes. The pockmarks on his skin are visible even across the room. “Aren't you the girl whose mom was attacked?” he calls. “She almost died, right?”

I narrow my eyes and give him my filthiest look as my insides jump around. What the hell? Doesn't he know people aren't supposed to say things like that to my face?

“Leave her alone,” one of the girls says. She's got dark black hair with green roots. Gothy. I don't recognize her, but she's looking at me with pity in her heavily made-up eyes.