Wicked Sense (29 page)

After
school,
I want to hang out with Drake, but he has some errands to do for his father. One of the drawbacks of owning a car. So I call Priscilla, asking if we can
go on
our mall excursion.

She
gets
excited and shows up at my door twenty minutes late
r
. I jump
into
her
watered-green
Prius, where blasting
angry-chick rock
welcomes me.

“Wow, she is
pissed
,”
I
say, referring to the girl
singer
.

“What?” Priscilla looks at me bewildered. “Those are empowering songs.”

“Sure they are,” I reply, but she can’t hear me over the squeaky voice and heavy beat from the speakers. I try again, yelling, and now without the sarcasm, “I don’t think writing twelve son
gs about how you’re over you
r
ex
, and then singing them in front of thousands
of people
every night for six months is empowering
. O
r healthy. Actually, it’s a clear sign she’s definitely
not
over the guy.”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
”

After a while, we
naturally raise
the volume of our voices so we can
talk over
the music. Turning it down never crosses Priscilla’s mind.

“So, wh
at are we shopping for today?”
s
he asks after we go inside the multi
-
floor consumerism temple.

My cheeks blush a bit. “I was thi
nking about a nice new outfit… f
or a date.”

I’ve never seen such joy in her eyes. It’s as if I handed her a mission from the heavens.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says. “How come you’re not
a
New
York
snob
is beyond me. You can’t be a hot girl if you’re dressed in rags.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she says, very un
-
sorry.
She grabs my wrist and
drags me with her
. “Are you thinking about a whole outfit? Do you mean dressy?
W
e should start with shoes and then build the whole thing up. I know just the place.”

We
go into one of tho
se snotty
stores
where th
e salespeople truly believe their knowledge of shoes is some kind of ancient wisdom known only by the chosen ones
.
Sometimes they go out of their way to be unpleasant.
It makes me uncomfortable, but the hostile environment doesn’t scare Priscilla. Actually, she relishes it.

After she out
-
bitches and out-eye
-
rolls the entire staff, we leave with a
n
obnoxiously priced
pair of
Jimmy
Choo
peep
toe pumps that have
absolutely
nothing
to do with me. Priscilla assures
me that a trained eye will be amazed by them
,
though.

Withstanding the ordeal earns us a snack break. We stop by a juice place, and I learn that ordering a smoothie in Seattle is as confusing as ordering a coffee. We
find a table for ourselves
at
the food court.

“What?
”
she asks.

“The shoe
s are
too fancy,” I say. “I don’t believe Drake would take me to a
fancy
place.”

She nods, absorbed in her thoughts. I think it’s a good time to tell her about Mum.
I spill everything.

“Get out!” Priscilla squeals
while slapping the small table with both hands, her bracelets clacking. She leans forward.
“Do you have pictures of her?”

I show her a couple I carry in my purse.

“That’s unreal! A movie star!”

I snort. “It’s not like that. She’s not that young, not that famous…”

“Are you kidding me? I
see
her in movie
posters all the time. She looks good.”

“Airbrushing,” I say.

Priscilla gives me a weak slap on the arm
, her sharp fingernails slightly scratching me.
“Stop it. She’s got an Oscar and everything.”

“It’s in London. I’ll show you when you visit us.”

Her mouth’s sides almost tear when she smiles.
I think it’s about the Oscar, but she says, “I’d love to visit you.”

“Aren’t you mad I
didn’t tell
you earlier?” I say, hesitant.

She shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. I’d do the same. It’s cool that you told me.” She slurps her smoothie loudly. “
S
o
,
you are a princess, and Drake is broke. That’s why you’re concerned with the
pricey
shoes.”

This
makes me feel shallow. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just I don’t know if he’s touchy about it.”

She nods
while drinking more smoothie. It seems
fruit helps her think.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go easy on the rest of your clothes. Something breezy, but classy.”

“What about the shoes?” I ask.

“Keep them.
You still can use them o
n your date.
Men don’t notice shoes unless you’re stepping on their chests.”

I want to ask, but I leave it at that.

***

On our way back, I tell Priscilla about t
he new me
.

“You
helped. You
listened when I need
ed
it,” I say.

She dismisses it as if it’s no big deal. Maybe it isn’t, to her.

“As you may have noticed, I don’t have many friends either,” she
says. “I mean, I’ll never be the prom queen. Of course I’m hated. Every girl in
the
school is dating an ex of mine.
Only transfers like you talk to me.
”

I had never thought of that. I’m unsure of what to say, but Priscilla moves on quickly.

“Let’s celebrate the new you,” she says, enthusiastic. “Let’s do something crazy.”

“Like what?” I’m scared of whatever Priscilla considers ‘crazy
.
’

She taps her fingernails on the steering wheel. “What wouldn’t the old Skye do?”

I shrug. “Anything exciting? Actually, anything, period.”

“Be more specific,” Priscilla says.

“I wouldn’t date, but that’s taken care of. Going out with friends meant dinners and back home. No sports or…”

“You lived in New York and London and didn’t take advantage of nightlife there?” Before I can answer, she snaps. “
I know!
Girls Night Out! Woo-
hoo
!” s
he
shouts
.

“Woo-
hoo
,” I say quietly—and lamely.

Priscilla
tsk-tsks
me.
“We’re going to have to wor
k on your woo-
hoo
s
,” she says
.

***

All the clubs are carding. Priscilla does have a fake ID, but I don’t (mine is valid, and from the state of New York). We’re shut out of all the Pioneer Square bars. Priscilla chats with two skinny guys wearing beanies and t-shirts two sizes too small. The
y look like a pair of colorful Q-T
ips.

Not that I can mock them. Priscilla picked my outfit
: jeans, high heels (killing my feet), a rock
band t-shirt (killing my pride), and a leather jacket she let me borrow. I’m afraid to stand alone in the
street; somebody might offer me money any time now. I walk up to her.

“Let’s go,” I say. “It’s no use.”

“Hi, Tina,” Priscilla answers me, her eyes full of meaning. “Evan here—”

“Ethan,” Q-Tip number
one
corrects.

“Ethan here knows the front guy at the Crucible. I explained to him you forgot your ID at the hotel…”

“Stupid Tina,” I say, slapping
m
y forehead. I have no shame.

“No
problemo
,” say
s Ethan. “Shall we?”
H
is hands
stay
i
n his pocket
s
,
and
h
e
points forward with his chin.

I drag Priscilla, so we walk behind the guys. “What is it
going to
cost us?” I ask. “I am a
betrothed woman
, remember?”

Priscilla
taps
my arm, calming me. “Don’t worry. Ethan
is an old flame—”

“Really?”
I can’t hold it back.

“That’s what he says. I don’t really remember him.” She grimaces. “Anyway,
he just wants a little sugar tonight
.
You’re off the hook. I’m Bridget, by the way.”

“Bridget?”

“That’s what he called me; what can I do?”

“Nice to meet you, Bridget,” I say.

Sure enough, Ethan whispers something to the door guy, who takes a long look at me before letting us all in. Ethan’s hands never leave his pockets.

W
hen we’re inside, Q-Tip number one
approaches me.

“I’m Tyrone,” he yells over the
music
.

“I like girls
,” I yell back. What? I don’t want company. And it is a daring thing to say.
To
me, at least.

Priscilla is already off to the dance floor with Ethan. It’s odd seeing my friend in her natural habitat. She seems more confident, as if this is possible. Soon she owns the place, her dance moves making men and women take notice. Luck
y Ethan gets a kind of standing-
up lap dance.

Priscilla whispers something to Ethan, who leaves exhausted to a corner. She comes to my side. “Want a drink? You should really take the
opportunity
.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, live a little. I’m driving.”

“Aren’t you drinking?”

“I don’t drink, silly
,
”
she says, giving me a one-armed hug.

Since I’m almost of drinking age in England, I give myself a pass. “I’ll have a Buck’s
F
izz
.
”

“A
what
?”

“A mimosa,
”
I say.

From the look she gives me, I might as well have ordered
a live chicken. “I’ll get you a real drink,” she says before vanishing in the mass of sweat
y
bodies.

I try to be inconspicuous while I wait, but my swinging to the beat betr
ays my clumsiness. I’m as bad at dancing
as I’m at sports. Priscilla
comes back to save me.

“Here, down this,” she says
while handing a glass shot full of a sparkling blue liquid.
Now
I understand how Drake felt when I handed him the
t
ruth
potion. Well, I have to trust my friend. Besides, arguing with her
is
futile. I take a deep breath and gulp down the poison.

My throat burns, followed by my stomach. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

“What was that?”

Without bothering to answer me, she hands me a tall glass. “Now, go easy on this one.”

“Will you tell me the name—”

“Later,” she says.

We just stand side-by-side against the wall, dancing to the hip-hop.
Seeing me dance, people probably think I’m already drunk. Hey, good excuse.

Still, I’m afraid
I’
ll end up on YouTube.

We left our jackets at the door. Priscilla
’s
breasts
are almost popping out of her tank top, and I feel like a prepubescent girl next to her. Somehow she makes her bouncing seem classy.