“And why was I wearing your shirt?”
“You bumped into someone while dancing and spilled coke on it. It was sticky. So I offered you my shirt, and you washed your suit off and left it to dry on the floor.”
It sounds like something I’d do. I nod.
“Makes sense.”
***
She pulls up to my house, and I get out and hang in the window.
“Take care of Kayla in the next few days,” I say. “She’ll need you.”
“Since when did you start caring about her?”
She’s important to you. So I care.
I don’t say that. I shrug and lie, instead.
“I know what it’s like. Breaking up. And GHB.”
“Client of yours get too creepy?”
“Just a bit.”
My eyes find her neck, and my breath hitches. There, just below her jaw, is a soft red hickey.
“Something wrong?” She asks.
If she doesn’t look up and use a mirror to see under her chin, she won’t see it. I shake my head.
“Nothing. Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for helping. With Avery. And for lending me your shirt. And…for dating Kayla. It made her really happy.”
It made you happy.
I smirk. “Anytime you want to give me another 200 dollars to go out with one of your friends, let me know.”
She snorts, and I step back and watch her pull away from the curb with something like regret festering in my chest. I tuck last night somewhere deep in my mind – lock it away for good. I’ll revisit it, when the longing gets too bad. But it doesn’t exist, any longer. It never happened. And that’s for the best.
I’m the only one who remembers.
And that’s for the best.
***
Northplains, Ohio, is a town full of secrets.
You’d think the boring Midwest wouldn’t have things like savage popular girls with baseball bats and shady events that happened in the past no one wants to talk about. But it’s got those by the truckload. Deception, revenge, lies. They all merge together like a vortex over the school, hanging heavy in the air on Monday.
Jack walks into the main hall, takes one look at me and Kayla on the bench, and walks right past us. Kayla, of course, bursts into tears. It took a lot of coaxing and chocolate on Sunday to convince her to come to school on Monday. I’m torn between my urge to punt him for making her cry, and knowing the breakup was the best thing for both of them. It was inevitable. A guy like Jack Hunter just doesn’t date girls his own age. That’s the general consensus around school. Of course Kayla only lasted two weeks! He’s Jack Hunter! He runs around town with rich girls in Porsches. He got early acceptance into Harvard, a fact Mr. Evans has taken to reminding every student of when they look like they’re slacking in study hall.
Jack Hunter is just meant for bigger and better things than Northplains, Ohio.
His legion of admirers makes a quick comeback. Poetry girl has piles of paper taped over his locker. The statue in the art room has the sheet taken off its head and it’s moved to the middle of the room again, the artist happily chipping away at the features. Dramaclub wailer primps and preens in front of the bathroom mirrors like a seven-year-old who’s just discovered her mother’s makeup. Jack’s cake plans are bigger and better than ever and going to be entered in a baking contest downtown instead of being thrown at Kayla. The girls have returned with an admirable vengeance.
Avery hasn’t come to school in three days. No one talks about her bat-wielding fury, so I can only assume she threatened them to keep them quiet. But people say she isn’t well. The official rumor is she’s sick, but I know better. She’s licking her wounds, trying to figure out which designer skirt will hide the tail between her legs when she finally does come back. It’s only a matter of time. Sometimes I feel sorry for her. But then I remember what she did, and I just feel sorry for her body parts.
I take deep breaths to calm my rage, and focus on something else. Mrs. Gregory drones on. I doodle her face on my paper and then gracefully draw a banana for a nose. I still can’t remember what happened that night at the party. I was pretty drunk, so it’s understandable, but I’ve been drunk a few times before, and though things were fuzzy I’d always remember bits and pieces. But the other night? Nothing. It’s a massive black blank smeared across my memory. I don’t slip up like that – my mind is a fantastically sexy piece of equipment I keep in tip-top condition. So why can’t I remember even a scrap of that night?
Kayla’s taken over Avery’s position as temporary queen bee. I watch her mope through the lunch line, the girls around her cooing sympathetically and insisting she’ll find someone better even as they shoot sultry glances at Jack from across the cafeteria. Jack eats alone, reading a book as he munches a sandwich. I wonder what the girls would do if they knew I’d worn his shirt? Probably put an apple in my mouth and roast me to suckling browned goodness. I’m ready to die, but I’m not ready to die with a fruit in my mouth. That’s a whole other ballgame.
“What’s a whole other ballgame?” Wren asks, sliding his stray across from me and sitting.
“Ah, nothing.” I wave him off. “So what’s up with you, my majestic prez? Busy making peace treaties with Iran? Scouring the globe for alternative energy sources?”
“Making sure Avery comes back to slightly less power around the school. You’d be surprised how many teachers she has under her sway.”
“No surprise at all. I’ve seen how she works.”
“Hopefully she’ll have the sense not to work for a while,” he sighs. “I really don’t want to go to Evans about the GHB.”
“Or what happened that night in middle school.”
Wren’s eyes flash behind his glasses. “That was a bluff.”
“And you huffed and you puffed, and you bluffed the house down.”
Wren watches me for a moment before lowering his voice to a bare murmur.
“She was our friend.”
I look up from my hot dog. “Who?”
“Sophia,” Wren continues. “Jack, Sophia, and I. We were best friends in elementary school. We lived next to each other. We played on the same street, in each other’s yards. Every summer and winter break we were together, for days on end. It was the happiest time of my life.”
He inhales, and pushes his tray away.
“Avery was on the outskirts. She’d come over sometimes, since she was Sophia’s best friend. She wasn’t anything like who she is now. The old Avery was loud, and bossy, but kind. She’d do anything to make Sophia laugh. She hated Jack – but I always knew that was because she liked him and also didn’t like the way Sophia liked him. She was jealous of him getting Sophia’s attention, and jealous of Sophia getting his. She was caught in the middle and it ate away at her as we got older, I think.”
I try not to move, or breathe too noisily. The last thing I want to do is jolt him out of the story. Wren looks up.
“There’s something I want to show you. After school. Can you drive us there?”
I nod, and he smiles.
“Good. I’ll see you then. I’ve got a Run for Charity to organize, so, I better go.”
“Later,” I try to sound casual. I watch him leave the cafeteria, the curiosity eating me alive.