Black Tuesday (18 page)

“That was the plan.” Jayne was resting her forehead on her icy water glass. Phoenix summer nights were still warmer than most people's summer days.

“Harvard was great. It opened a lot of doors, I can tell you that.”

Her parents were otherwise occupied, so that meant she had to play the hostess. It was too ingrained in her to do otherwise.

“You wrote twenty books, right?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, his cheek on his hand. A slight smile on his face, like he was proud of himself.

“With all those Harvard contacts and all, why did you have to self-publish your books?”

Some of that smile eased away. So much for the compliment he thought he was going to get. “No one hits big with their first book unless they're like J. K. Rowling with that Harry Potter of hers.”

He took a sip of his drink, his lips thin and sort of uptight-looking. “Anyway, I'll make it one day. I'm a Harvard graduate, for God's sake. Even got a partial scholarship for a while.” He winked at her. Jayne's skin crawled. “Ended up with a 2.9 GPA, which wasn't that stellar, but for a guy with an allergy against all things math, that was pretty dang good.”

Uh-huh. Sure. “So, Harry.” She leaned closer. Maybe it was the hot night, maybe it was her mom being her anal-retentive self. Whatever it was, she felt a little reckless. “How do you think you got into Harvard?”

He looked like he wasn't sure if she was insulting him or just inquisitive. Jayne didn't know herself. “Good GPA . Good extracurriculars. But I think my essay really stood out. You know, where you discuss why you deserve to be there and who your heroes are and all that kind of bull crap?”

Jayne, for the first time that night, was interested in this guy. “What did you write yours about?”

Harry had a far-off look in his eyes, a silly smile on his face. “To write the great American novel, since, in my opinion, it hadn't been written yet.” He lifted his glass to Jayne. “Here's to the great American novel I have yet to write.”

Jayne lifted her water glass and clinked glasses. In her own head, she toasted,
If this putz can get into Harvard, I can, too.

28

YOU SEND THAT LETTER YET?” Tom tied his shoe-lace, like the answer didn't matter. Jayne knew him better than that.

Jayne shook her head and popped open her soda. “I want to proofread it one more time. Probably later in the week.”

There were only about five more minutes of break left. Mr. Munroe hadn't gotten any more interesting in four weeks. Jayne had to drink two Diet Pepsis every morning just to get through the class.

At least she was in B territory with her grade.

And after that talk with that Harvard idiot, she'd asked Mr. Munroe to help her get extra credit in order to boost her grade. He'd assigned her a five-thousand-word essay on the four C's of Arizona.

Bor-ing. But at least an A was in sight.

Tom ate the last Cheeto in his bag and balled up the plastic and shot it into the trash can by Mr. Munroe's desk. The move reminded her of Darian.

Somehow, her heart didn't beat so fast thinking about Darian. Not like it did with Tom, who was currently keeping at least two feet between them at all times.

Jayne hated the weird vibe. Then again, she kind of liked this new electricity between them.

She didn't know what any of it meant. She kind of didn't want to know.

“I'm glad you haven't sent it. Without proofreading it, I mean.” He scooted his notebook around on his desk, concentrating on lining up the edges of the desk.

“You know, I—”

“Tom!” Lori stood outside the doorway, beckoning Tom with a hand.

The words she was going to say,
I was thinking that I shouldn't send it,
died on her lips. Tom looked at Jayne, then back at Lori. “Hey, Lori.”

“Tom, come here.”

“I'll catch up with you later, Lori.”

Tom, his back to Lori, mouthed, “She's stalking me.”

“Sure.” Jayne thought about the blog, the eggings, her locker. She hadn't really talked to Tom about any of it, though.

That would constitute her talking about, well, the accident.

Which meant that he probably thought Lori wasn't the spawn of Satan. That Lori had spared Jayne in her terrorization of the rest of the Palm Desert population.

That she was really a very nice girl underneath it all.

“Honest, Jayne. We talked at your house on the Fourth of July, but I don't hang out with her.”

She looked for the eye twitch. Her personal lie detector. Nothing.

“We say hi in school, but that's about it.”

It looked like his left eye twitched a little. Then again, it could've been an eyelash.

She gave him a tight smile. “Sure thing. No worries.”

Behind him, Lori hadn't moved. She stood in the hallway, both middle fingers flipping Jayne off.

 

“Where would you like it, hon?”

“On my back, below my waist, above my butt crack.”

Jayne was at the 7th Street Tattoo Palace, the most hygienic parlor in the city. She'd picked out her design. She had also already taken two Advil.

The heavyset woman with tattoos down her arms, across her chest, and up her neck held the needle in her hand. “And you're eighteen, hon?”

“Sure am.” The lie rolled off her tongue. This place was also known for inking teenagers without parental consent.

“And you're sure?”

“Yep.”

The woman started to transfer the design onto Jayne's skin. When the needle punctured her skin minutes later, thoughts of her mother, the Harvard guy, the guy suing her parents, the letter to Mrs. Deavers, Tom's eye twitch, and Lori's hateful face disappeared.

Pain had a way of doing that.

 

Jayne rotated her wrist. The Swarovski crystals twinkled under the Outreach program's fluorescent lights. “I can't take this.”

Even as she said the words, she knew they were the ones her parents raised her to say. What she actually wanted to say was,
I love it and I never want to take it off.

It definitely was taking her mind off being sued. That was one powerful bracelet.

“I'm not taking it back.” Darian hooked his hands behind his head, his legs stretched out in front of him on one of Outreach's coffee tables. “And if you put it on the table, I'm just going to leave it there. Maybe the janitor will pick it up.”

The bracelet sparkled, picking up any and all rays of light. God, it was gorgeous. And it was her first gift ever from a boy, minus the presents from her dad and Tom.

The nicest thing she'd ever gotten Tom was a book of Herb Ritts pictures. That'd been a great gift. The most Jayne-like gift ever.

But this one was three strands of clear and light topaz crystals, a present she never would've spent money on for herself. Her mom had one almost exactly like it and had picked it up after landing an interview with a reclusive rocker in the West Valley.

Jayne'd seen her mom's Nordstrom receipt. For something that looked like it'd come from Claire's Accessories and had been neighbors with $3.95 rhinestone hairclips, the $750 price tag had caused a shock to the system.

And now she had one.

“Okay then.” She looked around them, where cubicles were filled with people talking on the phone or to one another. In a lower voice, she asked, “Why exactly are you giving this to me?”

“Why not?”

Jayne gave him a look that let him know he was full of it.

“Maybe it's because I got it cheap. Maybe it's because I think you're pretty cool.” He leaned closer. “Maybe it's because I want to molest you later.”

Jayne pulled away so fast, her head hit his chin and she saw white pinpricks of light for a second.

“Darian, I . . .”

“I'm joking, Jaynie.” He put a finger on the bracelet before running it up her arm. She shivered. She didn't know if it was because of how cold it was in here.

Or if it was a momentary case of the heebie-jeebies about Darian telling her he wanted to molest her.

“No worries, okay?” He pulled her close, ignoring the half-filled cubicles around them.

Across the building, she saw Maria glance their way, tap her watch, and go into her office. Jayne met Darian's eyes, looking for the lie. She was sick of being lied to. “No strings?”

He squeezed her closer. “No strings.”

29

YOU AND DARIAN are getting pretty close, huh?”

Meadow's words were muffled as she pulled the lace-trimmed shirt over her head. Jayne had just finished pulling on a long-sleeved black shirt, a black dragon embossed on the front in velvet. After they'd finished up with Outreach for the day, Meadow thought it was time to go on to step two of Makeover Jayne: clothes.

And now they were sharing the same changing room in a trendy little shop that had just opened in the Paradise Valley mall.

The old Jayne would've wanted to be alone in her own room, with periodic check-ins in the hallway. The tattooed, pierced Jayne? She didn't give a crap.

Much.

“Yeah. We're getting to know each other a lot more.”

“A
lot
more?” Meadow's eyebrows went up and down and her mouth twisted into a smirk. Meadow liked her smirks, that was for sure.

Jayne knew what that smirk meant, too. “No, not like that. I mean we're having fun.”

“Like fun as in naked parts pressed against other naked parts?”

“No!” Jayne laughed and pulled on the black skirt she'd brought in. “No naked parts are being pressed together.”

“Yet.” Meadow wiggled into a pair of tight jeans. “By the way, that shirt looks awesome with your hair.”

Jayne fluffed her hair in the mirror and didn't say anything. She didn't correct Meadow or go into details. She didn't even know where this thing with Darian was going. And she definitely wasn't going to hypothesize where this thing was going with one of his closest friends.

A half hour later, they went to the cashier, an armload of clothes in their arms.

“I'm sorry, but this card doesn't work.” The tiny Latina girl behind the register held Jayne's credit card out to her. “Do you want to use another one?”

Jayne didn't attempt to take the card back. “Try entering the numbers. Sometimes the magnetic strip doesn't work.”

“I already did that. It's a no-go.”

Jayne knew the card was good. Her parents had given it to her two years ago, when they stopped taking her on back-to-school shopping trips and let her go on her own.

She only used it for these trips and gas. Now that she didn't drive, she barely used the thing at all.

Did the company shut down the card?

She turned to Meadow. “Can I borrow your phone?”

The girl handed her the rhinestone-decorated cell. “I told you getting rid of your cell phone wasn't a good idea.”

Jayne dialed and waited. “Dad, hey, it's Jayne. I just tried to use the credit card and it didn't work. Did you ever get a letter saying it was canceled or anything?”

The pause on the other end was not a good sign. Finally, her dad said, “Your mom canceled it the other day. I forgot to tell you, and I'm sorry about that.”

“She canceled it?” Jayne knew she'd shrieked the question. Meadow, who was in the middle of paying for her own clothes, mouthed “Ow” as she covered one of her ears. “Why did she cancel it?”

“She said something about how you were rude to her at dinner the other night.”

Jayne looked down at her feet. She counted to ten. She breathed.

Nothing worked. She was still ready to do battle.

“Kid, I'm sorry about this. I meant to give you my card when you did your back-to-school shopping, but I didn't know you were going today. Will the associate take my card over the phone?”

At that point, Jayne didn't care about the clothes. She didn't care about anything much that had anything to do with her parents and their control issues.

More specifically, Gen and her control issues.

And Dad and his lack of balls when it came to his wife.

“You know what, Dad? I'm sick of this bull crap. Sick. Of. It.” She walked out of the store and stood by the railing. She looked down at the first floor with the crowd of people pushing in every which direction. Scurrying the way her parents made her scurry.

For their approval.

For their support.

For friggin' clothes.

“Jayne, I hear you saying that you feel mad. I understand—”

“Dad, spare me. I have Larry for that psychobabble. You want to know something? I'm fine, all things considered. Like, I'm on my way to feeling normal again. But then you and Mom do crap to screw it all up.”

She hung up the phone.

Saying those words out loud did a lot more for her than those stupid breathing exercises.

“Hey, you okay, man?” Meadow came to stand beside her, leaning against the railing. “You're not going to have an aneurysm and keel over, are you?”

Jayne laughed. It felt cathartic. Freeing.

Like her old self.

“I'm good. I am, I swear. I just unloaded a bunch of crap just then. And I'm feeling . . .
terrific
.” The last word was all but shouted. Half the people below stopped and looked up.

Jayne felt her cheeks get warm.

“So I snagged you something.” Meadow walked a few store-fronts over until they were out of sight of the boutique they'd just been in. She reached in a bag and pulled out the black shirt with the velvet dragon.