Slow Burn Part 24

"Well, yeah. That b.i.t.c.h gave me a D in Spanish." She laughs, her gaze faraway as she reminisces. "I told her I was pregnant, not drunk, and she felt so sorry for me-she got me all these brochures on teen pregnancy, and available resources for teen mothers. I had to pretend I had a growing baby b.u.mp for the rest of the school year. Man, I was so trashy."

She looks worriedly down at her stomach, smoothing a hand over it. I can't detect a change yet-maybe she's a little thicker in the waist, but that could be because she ate half a Mexican restaurant for lunch, followed by these sundaes. h.e.l.l, I look a little pregnant, too-I was right there with her, burrito for burrito.

"There's no way I'm blowing off your party," I say firmly, pointing my spoon at her. "I know how long you've waited for this to happen...I wanna be there to celebrate with you."

Mich.e.l.le's face softens, blue eyes getting all sparkly. "I know you do, sweetie. But I don't want you to miss out on celebrating with your friends, too. I know it's been hard on you, going back and forth all these years-cut yourself some slack. Besides, you aren't gonna miss anything special. Unless you're into watching me and my friends sing eighties. .h.i.ts karaoke all night."

"Actually, that does sound like fun. Thanks to you, I'm all about the eighties." I laugh, but it quickly turns into a sigh. "I don't have a costume, anyway."

"Mmph. What's the theme?" she asks through a mouthful of Rocky Road.

"Zombie Apocalypse."

"Oh, my G.o.d, that's so easy! I can have you looking like a hot dead chick in fifteen minutes, no problem! Remember those pictures of me in my Goth phase?"

Oh, yeah. Uncle Derek keeps a couple in his wallet so he can take it out and laugh at her sometimes. "I don't know," I hedge, tapping my short nails on the counter. "Everyone's gonna be talking about the smoke bomb incident, and I really don't feel like answering questions about what happened."

I expect sympathy from my aunt, but she puts her spoon down with a bang, her expression exasperated and stern. "Juliet Somers! Put your big girl panties on, and quit being so wishy-washy! Do you want to be with Johnny-yes or no?"

"It's not that simple-" I begin heatedly.

"Yes, or no?!"

I blink. "Yes?"

"Then quit angst-ing, and do something about it now! Go to the dance, make up with him-but don't have s.e.x with him. Don't even show him b.o.o.b."

"Mich.e.l.le!" I shriek, grossed out.

"Seriously." She giggles like pre-teen. "Never show the b.o.o.bies until you're married. 'Cause if you do, they'll, like, fall off. Or something just as bad."

I roll my eyes at her. "I love you, but you're a freak."

"Way to have respect for your elders." She stares down at her half-eaten sundae, suddenly pale. "I need meat. Red meat. Maybe beef jerky," she mumbles contemplatively.

"Want me to get you some?" I offer, half-standing.

"No, I want you to go to the dance, and talk to your boyfriend." She sighs. "I think he's a controlling a.s.shole, but...obviously he has his good points."

"But what about Dad? He-"

"He'll be fine. I'll cover for you."

Tiny flowers of excitement begin to bloom in my chest. "Are you sure? Because I really don't have to-"

Mich.e.l.le holds her hand out like a traffic cop, halting my sentence. "No, you really do. But if you miss my baby shower-then we'll have words."

Impulsively, I lean over to hug her. "You're so awesome."

"I am awesome. I'm going to make the world's best mother, right? I'm awesome, and cool-and I have an endless amount of patience..."

Uncle Derek wanders into the kitchen, looking sweaty and hara.s.sed. "Hey, Ch.e.l.le, I couldn't find those color-changing candles anywhere. Do we really need them for tonight?"

Poor Uncle Derek. It's like watching that part of the horror movie where the demon takes over the girl's body. Mich.e.l.le's face suddenly contorts into a snarl, teeth bared. I swear I see something evil pa.s.s through the blue depths of her eyes as she starts screeching at him in what can only be the language of tongues.

Uncle Derek flinches. He does the smartest thing he can in that situation: he makes a run for it. I'm already halfway to the door myself.

"Where are you going?"

Mich.e.l.le's completely normal tone of voice stops me. I cautiously turn to face her, and find her face smooth, pretty, and slightly puzzled. "I was just going to see-uh, check on...I don't know."

"Well, I know." Mich.e.l.le beams, and hops clumsily off her stool. "We're going to the mall, baby!"

Oh, great. She's pregnant with a demon baby.

We find the cutest black dress at Darkly Eden, a weird little store that also sells wiccan candles and flavored lube. I desperately look away when Mich.e.l.le holds up two bottles and frowns back and forth between pa.s.sionate strawberry and kinky coconut lime, trying to decide between them.

Anyway, the dress is s.e.xy and short, held up by a spider web of straps, with a torn chiffon skirt. It's not very apocalyptic, but I do feel kind of mysterious and witchy in it. I s.n.a.t.c.h up these adorable clomping back shoes that also have nothing to do with zombies, but they make me look tall and edgy, so I'll take 'em. I also buy crazy long spidery lashes, which Mich.e.l.le a.s.sures me will look fantastically spooky if we line my eyes with black kohl. I debate whether I should get this cool electric blue wig to go with my outfit, but then I try it on, and-ick, I look really stupid. Maybe I should get it for Heather...I bet it would look hot on her. She could totally rock it at Alfredo's party tonight.

Hm. Maybe it would help convince her to drop me off at the dance on her way to the party.

"I think you're making a huge mistake."

It's hard to take Heather seriously when she's wearing the blue wig I bought for her, and a strangely decorated spandex body suit. When I ask her what she's supposed to be, she informs me that she's a part of the female anatomy, and invites me to guess which part. I vigorously decline.

"I thought you like Johnny," I say after a short pause to fix my droopy spider eyelash. "His cheating a.s.s, notwithstanding."

"I do like Johnny. And I like you. I just don't like the two of you together," she clarifies, tugging at her body suit while she's stopped at a red light. "Why do you have to get back together with him? Dude, I think you're just seriously h.o.r.n.y for him."

I try to roll my eyes, but the fake lashes make it so weird. "I don't know if I'm going to get back together with him. I want to talk about the possibility of trying again."

Heather grimaces at that, but then she mutters, "G.o.d, this suit is giving me a serious wedgie." She clears her throat and glances over at me. "Well, Jule, since you asked for my opinion-"

"I didn't, actually."

"-I'm going to give it you, straight up. I think every relations.h.i.+p has, like, a shelf life-and your relations.h.i.+p with Johnny is about four months past its expiration date. He was good for you for a little while, but now it's time to move on. Seriously, every girl needs a scorching hot romance-the kind that burns you up, and leaves you feeling hung over and all kinds of bitter. And with a weird puke-y taste in your mouth-like when you're super drunk, and s.h.i.+t keeps coming up your throat? Anyway, it's a good learning experience-but like all tattoos, it should be temporary, or you'll end up regretting it at some point in your life."

"Says the girl who's never had a real relations.h.i.+p in her life," I point out, making sure she can hear the irritation in my voice. I don't like being second-guessed, not when I'm having my own doubts. "And you're too scared of needles to get a tattoo."

She nods wisely. "Relations.h.i.+ps are like needles."

"I thought they were like tattoos?"

Heather waves a hand around. "Whatever. The point is-you've really been coming out of your sh.e.l.l, lately. Ever since you started hanging out with those guys. Nick, Mack, Ben...Dean." She smirks when she says Dean's name-I can't imagine why.

I give her a suspicious look. "Yeah, they're Johnny's friends-and now they're mine, too," I say slowly, trying to subtly emphasize the word "friends."

"You've been hanging out with them a lot."

"Yup."

By her raised eyebrows, and the way she's looking at me instead of the road, I can tell she's about to say something else I don't want to hear-like how I should date one of Johnny's friends, or something stupid like that. So I invoke the one name I know will derail that train right in its tracks.

"I hear Sloane's going to be at the dance," I say casually. "You sure you don't wanna come with?"

Heather's entire body seems to vibrate at the mention of her crush's name. "I can't," she says with a sigh. "Alfredo will burst a blood vessel if I don't show up-Funzi's flying in from Bogota. d.a.m.n, I bet Sloane would look hot as a dead girl. Take lots of pics for me, okay?"

"Um, sure. You know I'm all for unhealthy obsessions...but do we even know if she likes girls?"

"Mmm. She gave me the impression she could go either way. Like, I was making it obvious I was interested in her-and she was kinda encouraging it. Look away, Jule. I have a huge wedgie that I need to fix right now, and I don't think you want to see this."

I quickly face the window as Heather starts s.h.i.+fting in her seat. "It sounds like she might be leading you on," I say to my reflection.

"Maybe," she replies cheerfully. "And maybe I'll convince her I'm utterly irresistible. You can turn around now."

"You are utterly irresistible, Heather," I say, turning to her with a grin.

"Aw, thanks, boo. I love you, too." She makes a kissy face at me. "Too bad we're not attracted to each other. We'd make an awesome couple."

"I wouldn't be a good lesbian. I think I'd do better as a gay guy," I muse, fingering one of my long poky eyelashes like I'm petting a cat.

"Okay," Heather agrees, and scratches her wig. "Well, Cinderella, here we are. You look great."

"Thanks, dear. Don't wait up for me." Nervous, I ran a hand down my skirt before opening the car door.

"I won't. Go get your man."

"I will go get my man," I say with a confidence I don't have. "I'll text you later."

Why am I so anxious? I know Johnny wants me back, I think I want him back-so why do I feel this...breathless uncertainty? Look at me, I'm shaking. I feel like-like a nerdy girl foolishly about to ask the most popular guy in school to prom. In front of an audience.

I'm being stupid. He's not going to turn me down-and I'm sure as h.e.l.l not going to tell him in front of an audience. In case he turns me down. Ugh!

The dance is in Leclare's ballroom (yes, they have one of those). I don't have a ticket, but no one stops me at the doors, so I just walk right in. I'm instantly greeted by a lot of fog and neon, apparently the dance committee's idea of a zombie apocalypse scenario. I do like the twinkling skeletons hanging from the ceiling, though.

How am I suppose to find Johnny in the ma.s.s of blood-splattered zombies swaying to a s.e.xy slow song un-s.e.xily blasting over the speakers? The fog doesn't help, either. I just tripped over something, and I can't make out what it is. It feels warm and human-ew, it just grabbed me! I kick wildly at it before jumping away.

Hey, there's Mack. Dancing with a tiny girl I don't recognize, he looks scary and awesome in a shredded football uniform. His zombie makeup looks professionally done, and his dazzlingly white teeth gleam under the neon lights when he grins down at his dance partner. Hm, I wonder who she is, and why Mack's never mentioned her.

I don't recognize anyone else, or at least I can't make them out under their costumes. A headless businessman waves at me, but doesn't stop to talk so I'm left wondering at his ident.i.ty. Oh, there goes a herd of undead cheerleaders, a sure sign of the apocalypse. I wish Heather had changed her mind. She would love this.

Also, I feel extremely self-conscious standing here by myself. I notice a group of guys thoroughly checking me out in that way that guys do that somehow makes you feel both ashamed and flattered. I see them nudging each other and nodding toward me, maybe daring each other to come over. Hastily, I turn away, whipping out my new phone and scrolling through my contacts in an effort to look busy.

Well, I really wanted to surprise Johnny, but I don't know how I'm going to find him in this mess. I'll just call him, and hope he can hear his phone. I'm not brave enough to be here by myself like a lonely girl.

While waiting for him to pick up, I happen to glance up as a bunch of zombie clowns shuffle away, revealing a closely entwined couple swaying to the sensuous rhythm of the song playing.

Ugh, really? It's Johnny-and her. Laundry Room Girl. Spin Cycle s.l.u.t.

I ruthlessly take in all the details though my brain feels like it's slowly sinking into a murky pond. Johnny's tall and gorgeous in a blood-splattered white s.h.i.+rt and jeans. He's smiling down at her-that quick s.e.xy grin I stupidly thought was reserved just for me. And she's got her hands linked at the back of his neck, staring up at him up at him with an unwavering intensity. She's dressed an undead cheerleader, of course, but that stupid tiara she's wearing doesn't go with...oh. She's homecoming queen.

I feel as though I've been turned to stone. Deja vu. Odd, but this time somehow feels worse. Maybe it's the way they look together. Perfect. Right. Something else, too. Familiar. Maybe I didn't want to see it before, but...

G.o.d. He lied to me.

"Don't they look perfect together?"

The spoken words are such a perfect echo of my own thoughts, that for a second I think the b.i.t.c.hy girl in my head has finally escaped and materialized next to me.

Oh, even better-it's Kara.

She's wearing a slinky crimson dress that has nothing to do with Halloween-but I'm sure the guys don't mind. Her beautiful red hair is a ma.s.s of spiraling curls, and I have an urge to grab hold of one and yank it-to see if her eyes will bounce around like a pinball machine.

"Hey," I say flatly, hoping my glare will speak volumes for me.

Kara crosses her arms under her ridiculous b.o.o.bs, and smirks at me. "Must be hard for you to see them like this."

"Nope." Maybe if I stick to one word answers, she'll get the hint, and beat it.

She doesn't. She looks at Johnny and Dani, and her smirk only grows bigger and nastier. "Well, I'm glad they're back together. Just like old times."

"What?" I feel as though I've been kicked in the chest. "What do you mean?"

Kara turns back to me, her eyes widening theatrically. "Didn't you know? They were Leclare's hottest couple junior year. Then they broke up-about a couple of weeks before he met you." She sneers down at me, like she can't believe his bad taste. "Poor Dani was heartbroken. Especially since, according to her, Johnny's amazing in bed."

I can feel the blood draining from my face. Johnny's voice, telling me he and Dani are just friends, seems to echo in my ears. Yeah, I'm certain he's never mentioned that he was going out with her-not to mention all the amazing s.e.x they apparently had.

I flash back to the scene in the laundry room. The memory of it is sealed in my mind-every detail, the way they seemed to fit together like they were two halves of a whole. And the way she looks at him...and the way he avoids looking at her.

Somebody shoot me. Somebody shoot Kara.

The only thing that's holding me together right now is the fact that she's standing right next to me, gleefully absorbing my shock and misery. Evil b.i.t.c.h. She knew-all this time. It's like she waited for the perfect moment to stick me with it, when it would cut the deepest.

I force myself to keep my gaze on my ex-boyfriend and his not-so-ex-girlfriend, but I see nothing but blurs of color. I know I must look rigid and tense, but it's either that, or be shaking like a leaf. "I didn't know," I say, almost casually. My shrug is more like a spasm in my shoulders, but at least I'm not crying.

"You didn't?" She tries to look sympathetic, but I'm sure her facial muscles have no idea how to arrange themselves to pull that emotion off. "I'm not surprised Johnny didn't mention it, since Dani's the one who broke it off. She only did it because she thought she was pregnant, and she was freaking out at the time. Turns out it was a false alarm, but by the time she found out, it was too late."

"Did...did he know?" I can't help but ask, my heart choking on the question. "Did she ever tell him?"

"Yes, I finally convinced her to. And he felt really bad about it. If you weren't such a b.i.t.c.h, they could be friends again-without having to sneak around behind your back just to hang out."

I can't hear anymore. I walk away. I don't run because I won't give Kara the satisfaction. I'm reeling right now, a confused mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Do I believe the b.i.t.c.h? Has Johnny been hanging out with Dani behind my back, then acting as though he wants nothing to do with her to me? I don't want to believe it, but the way they were looking at each other...

I suddenly find myself standing outside, s.h.i.+vering in the cool night air. I need to be rational about this. I need to talk to someone. Not Johnny. Not yet.

Dean. I know he would tell me the brutal truth. But I don't have his number in my new phone-and I don't remember it. I have Nick's, though. He's home tonight, resting his knee that got banged up at the game.

Nick will tell me the truth. I'm pretty sure I can make him.