Dead Girl Walking (3 page)

“Hi, Jessica,” I said, scratching covertly. “Sorry we’re late. It’s not Trinidad’s fault. I made a wrong turn and—”

“No need to explain.” Her black curls swayed as she shook her head. “Everyone is late. It’s unfashionably rude to come on time.”

“Anything not to be rude,” I joked.

Jessica turned to Trinidad. “You look great—that’s a Kiana original, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Trinidad replied. “Kiana is so new. I can’t believe you recognize her work.”

“I know all the designers that matter. I almost bought a similar outfit but they only had it in yellow, which is tragic on me. Looks fabulous on you, though, and I love the glitter strands woven in your braid.”

“Thanks.” Trinidad flashed her future-diva smile, seeming totally at ease.

“Amber,” Jessica turned to me. “You … um … have such an original style. I’d never be brave enough to wear a guy’s shirt, but it looks so … unique on you.”

“Uh … thanks.” I think.

“I’m so glad you came. Not just because you brought Trinidad—which was incredibly sweet of you. With all your basket club experience I’m sure you’ll bring lots of creative ideas to our charity planning committee. It’s important to collect food for starving kids. I feel it’s our duty to do all we can. Don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to introduce Trinidad around, since she’s new. Amber, feel free to hang out and help yourself to the buffet.” Jessica waved toward a table heaping with assorted dishes and platters. Then she rushed off toward this blond guy named Tristan I recognized from my trig class—an arrogant jerk who kept trying to cheat off my tests.

I poured a drink from the pink punch fountain and wandered around, smiling and reminding classmates who I was. I received blank stares. I never had trouble talking with Alyce and Dustin, and wished they were here. But they scorned “society”; this was definitely not their kind of party. I wasn’t sure it was mine, either—although the book
Becoming Your Destiny
advised to embrace new experiences.

The buffet was a delicious new experience. I nibbled on spicy chicken legs and oriental noodles while looking around for a friendly face. Across the lawn, in a gazebo, I spotted Trinidad with Jessica and some of her crowd. I started to go over until I noticed that the chairs were full. Could be awkward. So I plopped down next to a chatty woman with silver-blue coifed hair. Leisl, as she asked me to call her, was Jessica’s great aunt. After twenty minutes listening to her stories, I escaped to the dessert buffet.

Confession: I have a passion for chocolate. I crave, obsess, lust for chocolate—which is why my clothes are double-digit size. It’s a sinful obsession, a constant struggle. Once I start eating chocolate, abandon all hope. I can
not
stop.

“Try the pecan truffles.”

I turned to find a medium-tall guy with tight brown curls and hazel eyes. Why was he so familiar? He must go to my school, although I couldn’t think of his name.

“Okay,” I answered, putting a pecan truffle in my mouth. Rich milk chocolate and crunchy nuts. The candy melted in my mouth.

The guy was nodding, and chewing on his own chocolate pecan. He pointed at a dish heaped with white squares dimpled with red specks. I nodded too, swallowed the chocolate bliss, and tried one of the white squares.

I moaned in delight. “Oh, this is
soooo
good.”

“A true chocolate connoisseur.”

“These desserts are amazing. So many in one place!”

His gaze swept the table. “Thirty-seven plates with approximately twenty-five candies on each plate, adding in variables of size, equaling approximately—”

“Nine hundred and twenty-five candies,” I finished.

His hazel eyes widened, clearly impressed.

“I’m a math geek,” I admitted.

“You, too?”

“Math just makes sense.”

“When not much else does.” He nodded.

“And being good with numbers will come in handy when I start my—” I covered my mouth, shocked that I almost confessed my secret ambition to a near stranger.

“Start your what?” He tilted his curly-brown head.

“Nothing.”

“Come on … you can’t leave me hanging with an unknown equation. I won’t be able to sleep tonight trying to figure out the answer.”

I laughed, liking him even more. He had quiet dignity and intelligence; someone who could be trusted. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, I lowered my voice. “I’m going to be an entertainment agent—dealing with diva personalities, contracts, finances.”

“You’ll be great at it, I can tell.”

“You think?” I asked, ridiculously pleased.

“Definitely. But why an agent? Most people want to be the next American Idol, not a person behind the scenes.”

“Because I’ve always loved music and … well, I don’t know why I’m telling you this … but to be honest, I have zero talent. I can’t sing, act, or dance. But I like to help people and I recognize talent when I see it.”

“Sounds like a cool talent to me, more exciting than selling cars like my dad—which is what my family expects.”

“But is it what
you
want?”

“No, but I don’t know what I want—except more chocolate.” He licked caramel off his lip and gestured at the dessert table. “There are nearly a thousand candies to choose from. What next?”

“I have no idea.”

“Let’s try them all.”

I summoned restraint and shook my head. “I have to stop. Or I’ll regret it later.”

“Why? Chocolate is the best thing about this party. Or at least it was.” He flashed this really sweet smile that lit up his otherwise average face. Um, was he flirting with me?

I glanced away, my heart fluttering a little, and pointed to a dish of black-and-white striped chocolates. “Okay … just one more. But which one? These look like zebra candy.”

“Zebra candy?” He chuckled. “Good name.”

“Do you have a name … I mean, I know you have a name, everyone does, what I mean, is what is it?”

“Eli. And you’re Amber.”

My cheeks burned. “Do I know you?”

“When my brother and I left this boring private school and started at Halsey, you gave us a cool welcome basket.”

“I did?” I studied him, but drew a blank. “I’m usually good with names, but I don’t remember—”

“I get that a lot when I’m with my brother.” He reached out for one of the black-and-white striped chocolates. “Try a zebra. They’re actually called domino dips, but zebra is better. That’s what I’ll call them from now on.”

He lifted the “zebra” to my lips. I got that fluttery feeling again, and hesitated. Then I opened my lips slightly, curling my tongue around the candy. Sweet milky chocolate swam around my taste buds and slid down my throat.

“Good?” he asked softly.

“Ummm,” was my answer.

Our eyes met over the dessert table. We shared a moment of chocolate understanding. As cliché as it might sound, it was like we were the only ones at the party. The band’s music faded so all I heard was the quick beat of my heart, accompanied by the melting richness of chocolate.

Then he glanced down and flicked off some candy that had fallen on his black slacks. His elbow bumped against the table and dishes rattled. He rubbed at the spot on his slacks but that only blobbed it even bigger.

An odd look crossed his face. “I—I’ve got to go.”

Before I could even ask what was wrong, he turned and disappeared inside, through the French doors.

Why had he left? Had I done or said something to offend him?

Disappointed, I turned back to the dessert table.

And reached for chocolate.

With Eli gone, the glamour faded from the party.

I just wanted to go home—which surprised me. What happened to all my ambitions to make connections with influential people? In theory this sounded easy enough but up-close-in-action, it felt dishonest. I’d check with Trinidad and see if she was ready to leave.

As I neared the gazebo, I heard someone say my name. Curious, I paused behind a large floral arrangement. Peeking through the orchids, I saw Trinidad with Jessica and some of Leah’s crowd: Kat, Tristan and Moniqua.

“ … almost didn’t come but Amber drove me,” Trinidad said. She was sitting so close to Tristan that he practically shared her chair. What was that about?

“Is Amber the freak in the hideous guy’s shirt?” Kat asked with a derisive laugh.

Didn’t Kat remember two years ago when I’d welcomed her with a HHC basket, and she’d told me I was the nicest girl in the whole school? Guess not.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Jessica said.

“Ewww … fashion nightmare.” Kat’s blonde ponytail flopped across her shoulder as she crossed her long denim-clad legs, her shiny cowboy boots glinting with rhinestones. “When she first walked in, I thought she was, like, a street person. I wasn’t sure whether to call the cops or give her money for decent clothes.”

“Donate money for the fashion impoverished,” Jessica joked. “Our next charity project.”

“Waste of time,” Kat said. “She’s obviously a lost cause.”

“Amber’s nice,” Trinidad put in defensively. “It’s not her fault she’s wearing an ugly shirt. She looked good when she picked me up, but then her shirt was destroyed when she fell in the cemetery.”

“Cemetery! Are you serious?” I recognized Moniqua’s voice because she always laughed loudest when I stumbled in gym. While Kat could be annoyingly “catty,” Moniqua was just plain mean.

Trinidad had the decency to look ashamed. “Can we discuss something else? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you did and now we have to know,” Moniqua urged. “What was she doing at a cemetery?”

“Um … I don’t think she’d want me talking about it.”

That’s for sure, I thought.

“But it’s only to us.” Kat patted Trinidad’s hand. “Trust me; we’ll keep any secret you share. Is it something illegal? Was Amber performing a satanic ritual?”

“Nothing like that! Well … maybe I do need to explain.” Trinidad glanced uncertainly at the others, then shrugged. “We’re all friends, so it can’t hurt …”

No! I almost rushed over and clamped my hand over Trinidad’s mouth. But it would have been too late anyway. Trinidad proved that singing wasn’t her only talent—she made my humiliating experience sound like a macabre adventure in stupidity. She laughed along with her new friends … while I died inside.

“I’m not surprised she screwed up,” Tristan said as he scooted closer to Trinidad. “Amber is in my trig class and she keeps trying to cheat off my tests. Why did you invite her, Jess?”

“She’s was all ‘I want to help.’ So what could I say?” Jessica spread out her arms like a shrug. “She practically got on her knees and begged me. You know what they say about charity starting at home.”

“You’re
sooo
nice,” Kat gushed. “Leah would never invite a loser to her party.”

“Leah isn’t here, and she hasn’t returned my texts or emails.” Jessica pursed her lips spitefully. “I heard she and Chad ditched school, but you’d think she’d at least tell me. I don’t know what’s with Leah lately. She’s been so … distant.”

“Not with Chad, I’ll bet,” Kat said, giggling.

“I couldn’t care less what they do. And Leah isn’t the boss of me, so if I want Amber on the fundraiser committee, she’s in.”

Moniqua groaned. “She’s so pathetic, though, how can we stand her?”

“No worries,” Jessica said cheerfully. “Amber can do all the messy stuff like painting signs.”

“Our own geek slave.” Kat giggled.

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Trinidad shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “But I guess Amber won’t mind since she volunteered to help. She’ll be great on your committee.”

“Yeah, a great bore.” Tristan snorted. “Really, Trinidad, how did you survive being stuck with her on the drive here? At least you won’t have to go back with her. I’ll give you a ride anywhere you want.”

“Ooh!” Kat clapped her hands. “Tristan and Trinidad, even your names sound like you were destined to meet.”

“What do you say, Trin?” Tristan smoothly slipped an arm around Trinidad’s tiny waist. “Ditch the loser and I’ll drive you home in my Hummer—eventually.”

“You have a Hummer? Wow … that’s way cool. But I don’t know … I mean … I’ll have to check with Amber first. She’s been awfully nice to me.”

“She’s always nice in this earnest, revolting way,” Moniqua complained. “Makes me sick how she doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on. Her basket club is a big joke. She takes it seriously, but everyone is laughing at her club. Basket Cases, we call them.”

“Maybe inviting her was a mistake.” Jessica frowned. “But she’s so eager to please. We’ll keep her busy and out of our way.”

Out of their way? Like I was a disease!

Shame washed over me and I blinked back tears. I’d been so looking forward to this party. I’d used my babysitting money to buy my now-ruined shirt, and I’d prepared a list of fundraising ideas to impress Jessica. I endured getting lost, scaling a cemetery gate, and itchy nettles.

And for what?

Utter humiliation.

I wanted to turn invisible and slink away. But I couldn’t abandon Trinidad, no matter how much she deserved it. Anger pushed me out of hiding. I stepped away from the potted plant, where anyone could see me, then stomped over to the table.

Folding my arms across my chest, I faced Trinidad.

“I’m leaving,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage.

“So soon? Is something wrong?” Trinidad pushed Tristan’s hand off her arm and stood. “Amber, are you sick?”

“Oh, I’m sick all right. Of fakeness.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not anyone’s ‘geek slave.’ Go home with him.” I pointed at Tristan, not wanting to say his name.

“Were you spying on us?” Tristan narrowed his eyes.

I glared, holding tight to anger so I wouldn’t cry.

“You heard us?” Jessica sounded a little scared. “We were just messing around. I’m sorry, we didn’t mean—”

“Save it, Jess,” Moniqua interrupted. “Don’t apologize to her. Eavesdroppers hear exactly what they deserve.”

“Yeah,” I agreed sadly. “The truth.”

Then I left the party.

I could hardly see out of the windshield through my tears.

To shut off my thoughts, I amped my radio full blast and sang at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even know the words to the song, so I messed up the lyrics … like I’d messed up my life. I hoped a truck would smash into me or a bolt of lightning would strike my car. But there wasn’t a cloud, much less a lightning bolt in the sky, and all the trucks on the road were wise enough to avoid me.

It was almost a surprise to make it home safely.

Only I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car. Why bother? My life was over. The fact that I was still breathing was a cruel irony.

There was no going forward or backwards, only sitting here in limbo land. I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone, so going into the house was out of the question. Mom would take one glance at my face, know I was upset, and pepper me with questions. Then she’d tell my father and insist we discuss it over a family meeting.

So I just sat there, with the car running, drowning in dark, hopeless thoughts. I glanced down at my lucky bracelet, tempted to rip it off my wrist.

Lots of luck it brought me—all of it bad.

By Monday morning, whispers and gossip would have spread around school. Basket Case … Basket Case! Is that really what everyone thought of my club? Of me? Were Alyce and Dustin my only real friends? Was everyone just laughing like I was a pathetic joke? I could never return to school. I’d have to transfer to another school or drop out. But dropping out would mean never going to college and having a big career. If I asked Mom about home schooling she’d just say no, because she was already crazy busy raising the triplets. So what could I do?

I couldn’t just leave school—yet how could I stay?

Hearing a car, I looked up at the mail truck slowing in front of my house. The mail lady, Sheila, saw me and waved. She and I had gotten to be friends after I’d sent off tons of scholarship applications that sent me rushing out to meet the mail truck daily. But I didn’t want to talk to her today and hear about her chronic back pain and how her sister’s husband was in jail again. So I hunched down in the car and prayed she’d leave.

Sheila waved again and called out my name.

Just what I didn’t need.

But she kept shouting for me, and if I didn’t go over my parents would come out of the house. I wiped my tears, arranging my hair so it partially hid my face. Then I walked over with a fake smile.

“Amber, check out my new wheels!” Sheila said happily.

“You finally got a new mail truck?” I said with forced cheerfulness. “Cool.”

“Isn’t it a beaut? Except that it’s a manual and the gears are all wonky. I’m still getting used to it. But hey, enough about me.” She reached for a letter on her lap. “I have good news for you! That scholarship you were waiting for!”

They’re probably rejecting me
, I thought, but I didn’t want to ruin Sheila’s upbeat mood. So I kept on smiling and took the letter.

“Well, open it up!” Sheila urged.

I hesitated, then shrugged and ripped into the envelope. The opening lines jumped out at me:
Congratulations! We are happy to offer—

Ohmygod! I got the scholarship!

Next thing I knew I was jumping and crying for joy. Sheila laughed and congratulated me, and then said she had to finish her route. I heard an awful clunk of gears as her car jerked forward, tires squealing.

I read the letter, then read it again.
Congratulations! We are happy to offer you a scholarship to a California State University of your choice. We have evaluated your application
…

I’m sure my eyes were as big and round as all those lovely zeroes. I nearly fell to my knees and kissed the pavement.

Totally, totally amazing! All my dreams come true and folded neatly into an envelope. Grammy Greta was so right. I did have a future—and a great one! I could go anywhere and be anything I wanted.