Lessons From A Dead Girl Part 10

Web and Jess lean back against the headboard. I slide over next to Web so I can lean against it, too. We stretch our legs out in front of us. Web starts to make his feet move to the music. Jess and I copy him. Our feet look like six little dancers moving in sync. We don't say much. I vaguely remember Web getting us more drinks and the room feeling hazy.

The next thing I know, I'm waking up in a bed with a wastebasket next to my head and the taste of throw-up in my mouth. Something warm leans against my back. It's dark in the room. I don't know where I am at first, but I recognize Web's bedspread. The warm thing against me moves and makes a grumbling noise.

"Oh, G.o.d." I sit up. My heart and head throb in unison. I've never felt this ill in my life. I try to check my watch, but it's too dark to see. I scan the room for Web's digital clock. The orange numbers read 9:15.

Web's hand touches my shoulder and gently pulls me back down beside him.

He rubs my back softly in tiny little circles, sending s.h.i.+vers down my belly and between my legs. I know the feeling, but it is so much better this time, without the fear. Or shame. I will him to roll me over and kiss me, even if my head is splitting.

Look at me now, Leah, I think automatically, happily.

"Are you OK?" Web asks softly.

I nod, trying to replay the night and figure out how we ended up in this bed together. I still have all my clothes on, but I hope something happened. Anything. I love the way Web smiles. The way he looks at me. The way he pays attention to me. Being next to him now seems almost too good to be true.

Web's fingers travel up and down my back.

Don't let him be another Jeffrey Scotto, I tell myself. I hear Leah's voice, If he really liked you, he would have held your hand.

"That feels so good," I say, breaking the silence. Keep doing it.

The fingers move in circles.

"You feeling OK?" Web asks softly.

"Mmm-hmm," I say, ignoring my pounding head. I want so badly to roll over and kiss him, but I can only imagine what my breath must smell like if I was sick.

His hand moves to my head, and he gently brushes my hair away from the side of my face. I will him to put his hand on my shoulder and roll me over to face him.

But then there's a moan from the floor.

"Ick!" It's Jess. "The fairies have been making sweaters on my teeth."

My heart sinks.

"How'd you get down there?" he asks.

He moves closer to me and kisses the back of my head before pulling his hand away.

Quick! Roll over and kiss him back! I scream at myself. But I can't. Not with Jess here.

When she moves in next to us, I realize Web was just making room for her when he got closer to me. He rolls over and I hear him kiss her, too.

These were "just friends" kisses. "Just friends" back rubs. Just friends. Just nothing.

Thank G.o.d I didn't try to kiss him and make a total fool out of myself.

If he really liked you . . .

Web stands up and stretches. "Breakfast or dinner?" he asks.

Jess and I get up slowly, groaning and pretending our heads hurt even more than they do. In the kitchen, the three of us sit at the table, drinking coffee and eating Pop-Tarts. Jess gives me a long list of excuses I can tell my parents for not calling and telling them I would be late. Web chooses which ones he thinks have the best chance of working. We talk as if we've always been friends. At first I hope Web will give me a special look that says maybe we could be more than friends, but I don't get one. After a while, I forget to watch for it. I just feel happy that somehow I made it to this place, this table, with these people.

As they talk and laugh with me, I watch them as if they are strangers and my only friends in the world all at the same time.

The Sat.u.r.day before school starts, Web calls me.

"We have a date tonight," he says.

My heart flutters. All week I've been reliving that moment on his bed, his body spooning mine, even if it was a "just friends" spoon.

"What about Jess?" I ask.

"She's at her grandparents', remember? We don't have to do everything together, do we?"

"Well, no, but I thought -"

"I'll pick you up at around eight, and we'll have some fun before we go in."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"It's a surprise. But bring your dancing shoes."

"But - I don't do the dance thing."

"You do now."

My stomach is a mess the whole day. Fun before we go in. Dancing. Oh, G.o.d. I play a few CDs and practice in front of the mirror, but I look like a total dork. It's hopeless. Maybe I can pretend I don't feel well when we get there so I can just sit and watch him.

Web picks me up in the Mini his parents gave him for his sixteenth birthday. It smells like him. We drive forty-five minutes to a club near Web's new school.

We park in a dark corner of the parking lot. Web cuts the motor, then reaches for a paper bag in the backseat.

"Every time a car pulls in, we have to drink," he says, slipping a new bottle of Kahlua out of the bag. "SUVs are two drinks."

Each time we pa.s.s the bottle, our fingers touch and a spark s.h.i.+vers through me. I hope he feels the same thing. But if he does, he doesn't show it.

We keep drinking. It gets harder and harder to force it down. Finally, Web hands me a piece of spearmint gum.

"Begin now," he says. He watches the clock on his cell phone and makes us chew for exactly seven minutes.

"OK, we're good to go," he says when our time is up.

"Why seven minutes?"

"Lucky number. That's how long it takes to get rid of alcohol breath."

"Really?"

"Trust me."

He winks and I melt.

Despite Web's theory, I try not to breathe when we sway/walk to the door. It's a good thing it's dark.

Web pays the bouncer for both of us as if this is a real date.

Inside, the place is packed. It smells like Gap cologne, sweat, and hair spray. I recognize a few people from school, but most of them I don't know. Web nods to a group of guys I've never seen. They're probably from his new school.

The music is blasting. I'm so buzzed, I barely feel my feet touch the floor as we make our way to the bar. There's a huge line for drinks, which is dumb since all they serve is c.o.ke and fake mixed drinks. As we stand there, it seems like the wall behind the bartender is moving.

Web says he's going to run to the bathroom. He hands me a ten and says to stay in line. I wait for a few minutes before I realize I have to go, too. Like, right now.

When I step out of the stall, I find a free sink and splash my face with cold water. Please don't let me get sick. Not here.

When I check myself in the mirror, I cringe. I look like h.e.l.l. My cheeks are blotchy, and there's a brown Kahlua stain on the front of my s.h.i.+rt. Very attractive. I'm surprised the bouncer even let us in, it's so obvious I'm drunk.

I splash more cold water on my face, then look up in the mirror again.

"Hi, Lainey."

My heart drops to my stomach.

She's standing right behind me.

"Leah. Hi!" I try to sound friendly, but I think I sound more terrified. I don't know if I'm supposed to turn around and hug her, like normal long-lost friends would. But even if I wanted to, she's up so close behind me I can't really move. My hands are trembling.

She smiles from behind me at our reflection in the mirror, and I try to smile back.

She's taller and seems much older than me. Her hair is longer, too, and her face is more defined. She's even more beautiful. She really could be a model.

I put my hands on the counter to steady myself, feeling even uglier than before. The way I've always felt when I'm with Leah.

"It's nice to see you, Lainey," she says. "What's it been, like, a year?"

She moves to the sink next to me and washes her hands. Her deep-red fingernails match her lips. I try to get a look at her wrists, to see if the rumors were true, but she keeps her hands palm-down somehow, and I can't get a good look.

When she straightens, she checks me out.

"You're a little pale, Lainey," she says in a suspicious way. "What have you been up to?"

I roll my eyes and try to look cool. She knows the answer.

"Excuse us," some girls say, annoyed that we're hogging the mirror. Leah steps behind me again and frees up a sink. My heart beats hard against my chest. My head is throbbing.

"You look good, Laine," she lies.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. She has dark eyeliner on with glitter eye shadow. Her red lips are covered with a s.h.i.+ny gloss. She looks way too old and sophisticated to be at a bar on teen night.

"Uh, thanks," I say. "You look good, too."

We both know good isn't the right word to describe either one of us. She is beautiful. And I am not.

She's standing so close, I feel her breath on the back of my neck. I wore my hair up in an attempt to look more feminine, but with Leah behind me with her perfect curvy body, I feel anything but. Just like old times.

The other girls leave, rolling their eyes at us. Some new ones squish in. I just want to get out of here, but Leah's blocking my way. I pretend to tuck a wisp of hair back into place as if there is really anything to do in front of the mirror besides loathe my appearance.

"It's nice to see you out, Laine," Leah says. She flicks her hair back over her shoulders. "Are you here with friends?"

"Just one. My friend Web."

She raises her eyebrows, but before she can make a comment, I ask her who she's with.

"My boyfriend," she says. She rolls her eyes when she says it. "Speaking of which, I better get going. He freaks out when I'm gone too long."

I think of my dream and the faceless man driving her away. Her blood on the window. I don't let myself look at her wrists again.

The sink next to us opens, and she steps in, leaning close to the mirror to put on another layer of s.h.i.+ny red lip gloss.

"OK, well, it was great to see you again," I lie, stepping away from the sink while I have a chance.

"Hang on," she says. "I'm coming, too."

Before we get to the door, she takes my arm to stop me. I try to shrink away from her, to swivel around her, but she leans in close and squeezes my arm harder. I smell her cherry lip gloss mixed with some kind of alcohol.

I turn my head away. Our faces are so close, I swear she could kiss me. As I turn, her wet lips brush against my ear and she whispers into it.

"Remember when we used to mess around, Lainey?"

I push away from her, afraid someone has heard.

"What are you talking about?" I glare at her and rub the gloss off my ear, regretting all the months I've felt sorry for her, worried about her. G.o.d, she hasn't changed at all.

"You remember," she whispers.

"I have to go," I say.

She follows me out to the dark hallway.

I turn and face her. My head is pounding, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. "What do you want?" I almost hiss.

"I know it bothers you, Lainey, but there's nothing wrong with it."

I glance toward the men's room. "I need to find Web," I say.

"Just wait, Laine, OK?" She reaches for my shoulder, but I shrug her hand away.

"I'm sorry, Lainey. I was just messing with you."