Deadgirl (3 page)

I’d succeeded last year with the
I’m in high school now
argument. Even to them, pink and flowery was too much for any teenager to have to bear. Me, Morgan, Sara, and Daphne had raided the Home Depot for paint and equipment on Dad’s dime and made a weekend of redecorating.

Now the walls were a warm amber color that filled me with calm rather than pink terror. We’d even got my dad to sand my old white dresser and paint it black. Most of my furniture was black now, I noticed. Not emo black—classy black.

No posters of shirtless teenage heart throbs—that was Morgan’s room, no paintings—Wanda’s room, just pictures. My walls were coated with picture frames, and they spilled out onto my dresser, my desk, my bookshelf. My friends, most engaged in either ridiculous pose or ridiculous dress, looked out at me from every direction.

I sat down at my little corner desk to check my email when Morgan cleared her throat.

I rotated my office chair slowly, my fingers steepled in my lap. I did my best super-villain impression. Morgan tossed her bright pink cell phone to me. I caught it by virtue of luck.

“Read,” she said.

The phone displayed a text message, from…

Zack.
My heart flip-flopped. My mouth went dry. I looked up at Morgan, who was still smiling.

“Read it!”

I glanced down again, but had trouble making out the small glowing letters. They were blurry, insubstantial. I shook my head and tried to focus. I glanced at the time—she’d received the text minutes ago. Maybe right when we climbed into Mom’s car.

Hey M. Going 2 the Set tomorrow night. You and friend should come. Bring Luce too. You down?

My heart didn’t flip-flop this time—it stopped. I sucked air that wasn’t nourishing enough, and what had to be a Helm’s Deep of butterflies raged in my stomach. Morgan was next to me all of a sudden, pulling me out of the chair.

“What does
that
mean, huh?” Morgan asked.

“I…I don’t know,” I said. My lips felt numb. “He wants a friend to come, too. Maybe it’s just a triple date or something.”

Morgan made a ‘that’s right, dumbass’ face.

“Oh. Oh! Do you think?”

She nodded.

“Doesn’t that seem kinda…forward? We barely talk to each other.”

“Maybe he’s nervous,” Morgan said. “He is somewhat unpredictable.”

“True,” I said. It’s one of the reasons for my quasi-obsession. “But we tried this last year.”

“Just flirting,” Morgan said. “That’s not anything.”

“Yeah, but we flirted like crazy,” I said. “And he never once asked me out.”

“Did he ask anyone else out?”

I frowned. I didn’t need her pity-logic.

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything,” Morgan said. “Maybe he’s not allowed to date or something.”

I bit my lip. It could be right—it certainly explained his reluctance.

“Maybe he’s allowed to date now that he’s a sophomore,” Morgan said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But he’s been a sophomore for a month and a half.”

“Give the guy a little time to work up some nerve,” Morgan said, turned, and shoved me at the bed.

I fell in a heap and threw my arms over my face. I wanted to agree with her—but agreeing with her meant surrendering my shields. It meant putting aside my cynicism and allowing hope in. But hope had fangs, something I’d figured out last year. Hope was great until it was ripped away, leaving a wound much deeper than loneliness could.

I looked up at Morgan, who stood triumphantly with her arms crossed over her chest. I wanted to hug her and punch her all at once.

“You’re grounded,” I said. “And whatever mind trick you pulled on your mom isn’t going to work for going to the Set.”

Morgan collapsed into my office chair and bit her lip. She made a
hmmm
sound, deep in her chest.

“What did you say to your mom, anyway?”

Morgan smiled, though her face still looked thoughtful and far-away.

“Just told her that you and me and Wanda were having a study party here,” she said. “And I told her I’d call her every hour from your house phone to check in.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s not actually far from the truth. Still, how are you going to manage that miraculous feat tomorrow?”

“So you’re going?”

I dropped my arms back over my face. I wanted to vomit. Like, the actual urge to vomit gripped me. I took a deep breath, and Morgan squealed.

“If you can figure out your grounding, I’m in,” I said.
Vomit. Here comes vomit
.

Morgan tapped her chin, “I’m working on it.”

We burned a few minutes scheming, but gave up, temporarily, in frustration.

We watched old sitcom reruns in silence for a while, but I couldn’t focus. My mind wouldn’t settle on one topic—it jumped violently between possibilities that seemed both in reach and totally impossible.

I thought of Zack’s face, too. Well, the lip part of that face, specifically.

Wanda broke us out of our stupors with eyes full of tears. She burst into my room like a hurricane and slammed the door behind her. Morgan and I both sat up. Wanda collapsed to her knees, her arms tucked tightly against her chest.

Morgan and I exchanged glances, both paralyzed by the hysterics.

“Oh no…” Wanda moaned, her chin tucked against her chest.

I jumped off the bed and slid to her side. Dread twisted my stomach into a long chain of knots. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she jerked like I’d shocked her. She turned her long tear-streaked face up to mine.

“What’s wrong?”

Wanda shook her head and shot her eyes back to her navel.

“Wanda!” Morgan shouted.

Morgan jumped off the bed and knelt in front of her. She didn’t look sympathetic—she looked angry. I leaned back a little.

“Wanda, what is it?” Morgan demanded.

Wanda caught her tone, too, and looked up sheepishly.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said. “I know this is stupid. I feel so stupid for acting this way.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” Morgan said. “Just let us help.”

We sat in silence for a while, waiting for her to work up the courage. Finally, she sucked in a deep shuddering breath and turned her face up.

“It’s Tyler,” Wanda said.

I tried to hold my tongue, but the words came out before my brain could okay them.

“Tyler? Wanda! He’s a scum bag.”

Wanda’s lip trembled and her body threatened to shake apart. I felt awful—that was the second time that day I’d lashed out at her without thinking. Sometimes I wondered if I kept her around to beat up on.
I’m an awful human
.

Still, Tyler
was
a scum bag. Just a loser who Wanda was hung up on, primarily because he gave her the male attention no one else did. She wanted them to be dating, and maybe some twisted part of her thought they were—Tyler was content to ignore her in public and make out with her in private. Luckily, Wanda was either too smart or too shy to let him get away with anything more.

I did sympathize, somewhat. If Zack were meaner and showing interest in me, I couldn’t say I’d act any differently. Girls suck. Well, guys suck too, I guess.

Wow. Fifteen-years-old and already bitter. Time to sign up for the Cat-A-Month Club and buy blocky black shoes.

“You don’t know,” Wanda said. “He’s n-nice, when it’s just us.”

I rolled my eyes, and luckily Wanda wasn’t looking. Morgan punched me in the arm anyway. She hit hard, too—all that volleyball spiking made her arms into little skinny pistons.

“What did he do?” Morgan asked. Her anger was returning. Her voice shook with it.

This wasn’t the usual protective-friend-shtick. I gave her a questioning look, but her blank face betrayed nothing. Wanda stared at Morgan like she was the bad cop and Wanda had indeed killed her own husband with an icepick.

“N-nothing. Nothing like you’re thinking,” Wanda said. “He called me after school and told me that…I asked him if we were going to the Winter Formal or not. I didn’t think he’d want to, of course. I just wanted to know for sure, and I kind of hoped…”

Her chin went back to her chest like she had a magnet in her face and a steel ribcage. Which, is an odd simile, I admit. Morgan’s anger didn’t relent at the sight, but mine did. I felt only pity.

“Well, he said no. He pretended like we were nothing. He said he’s going with Lisa Barnes. Stupid, skanky Lisa Barnes.”

Wanda growled and slammed her shoulders against the door behind her. It cheered me up a little, I realized. I’m no psychiatrist, I thought, but her anger seemed good. Right. Plus, Lisa Barnes was a skank.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Morgan said. She leaned down and pulled Wanda into her arms. Wanda sank into them like she had no bones.

“You’re better off,” I said. “Plus, I’m sure I’ll be flying solo for the dance. Why don’t you go with me?”

Wanda peeked out from Morgan’s curtain of spun-gold hair and offered a smile that was in critical condition at best. I gave her a lop-sided grin.

“What do ya say? This is an exploding offer, honey-child,” I said, throwing on an awful attempt at a Southern drawl. “I can’t wait all day. So many offers, so many suitors. Enough to give a girl an awful case of the vapors.”

I fluttered one hand at my face and laid the other across my forehead. My inevitable collapse onto the plush carpet felt authentic, I thought.

“Oh, shut up,” Wanda said, her voice breaking. “Of course I’ll go. Just stop being
Southern
.”

When she calmed down, she disappeared into the bathroom for a good half-an-hour to regain her composure and reapply. Mom looked to be cooking up some delivery, so we helped her sort through the drawer of menus and traded them between each other like baseball cards.

While we waited for our delivery smorgasbord, Wanda and I fiddled with printer settings and page spacing while Morgan rifled through my bookshelf. Wanda and I only ruined two of the fliers before we got the printer worked out. It chugged away, making robot sounds as I went to help Morgan with her selection. As I reached for Garth Nix’s
Sabriel
, Morgan’s phone let out one high-pitched beep.

We gave each other very serious looks before we both leaned over the phone to see the message.

So u coming or not? Tell Lucy popcorn on me. If it helps. Bring Daph or Sara 2.

Morgan raised an eyebrow and brought up a reply box to send back. She stared at me with her victorious grin. It tugged my face into a big stupid smile before too long.

“What is it?” Wanda asked, turning on my big office chair.

Morgan cocked her head to the side. I nodded.

“Hey, Wanda,” Morgan said, looking over my shoulder. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Um. Well, I planned on doing my laundry. I’m really behind and my mom stopped doing it for me last year because she says it builds character. I also have this Spanish project and—”

“We think Zack and a couple of his friends want me, you, and Luce to triple date at the Set tomorrow. Possibly.”

I glanced at Morgan—playing poker with her in Vegas was out.

Wanda’s eyes rounded.

“Oh, I don’t think I can go,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“I still have to figure out me and Tyler and what—”

Morgan snapped, “Wanda. Where is Tyler right now?”

Wanda sighed, “He said he’s at the movies.”

“With who?” I asked.

“I’m not really sure—”

“Who is he at the movies with, Wanda?” Morgan asked.

“I mean I could guess—”

“Wanda,” I said. “Is Tyler at the movies with skanky Lisa Barnes?”

She paused a beat.

“Yeah.”

Morgan nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, “And where will you be tomorrow night?”

Wanda sighed, “At the Set, with Zack’s friend.”

Morgan beamed and threw her hands skyward. I gave a huge grin and jumped onto my bed.
There it was
, I realized.
Hope.
Hope was now officially curled around my heart, warming it with unimaginable heat even as it got ready to incinerate it completely.

I gave in. I threw my own arms up and let out a strangled cry of glee.

“Someone’s in love,” Morgan said.

“Oh, shush,” I said. “I think this is my first date.”

“First of many,” Morgan corrected. “You’ve got at least another ten years of dating in you, I imagine. Fifteen if you make it to thirty without snagging a rich investment banker.”

I gave her a face, “Don’t be a cliché. Plus, I have the rest of my life to worry about investment bankers.”

Chapter Two

One Day ’til

The next day at school I was on a mission.

Over dinner we’d planned strategy. Dad ate in his office—apparently too busy to join us. My mom listened to our war plans with a combination of amusement and genuine attention. She threw in a few ideas, and we incorporated almost all of them. Mom knew her stuff, I’ll give her that—she was the retired General to my up-and-coming Captain. Morgan was my Sergeant—in the trenches, ready to fight, determined to push us onward. Wanda hadn’t even made it out of boot camp.

And now I was heading for the front lines.

Mom dropped me off in front of Atlanta—not my usual insertion point. Normally I landed in the parking lot near the band room. My first period class was Journalism, in the Art quad. Still, the front wasn’t far, and it gave me valuable positioning. First, recon—the true sabotage wouldn’t begin until lunch, if all went well.

Morgan and I got out of my mom’s car and separated—we didn’t even give each other a parting look. She wasn’t a Drama-geek, but she had more than a few friends who were, and she made a beeline for the steps up to the auditorium. Benny, best friends with Zack, was her first target. Benny was president of the drama club, and even now sat on the steps of the auditorium, holding court in a circle of fellow thespians. Dark featured, black hair framing his face, Benny had a certain attractive quality. Still, his personality drove the point home better than his rail-thin body—Benny had charisma. He’d be a great lawyer, a better salesman, and the world’s worst spy. You couldn’t
not
notice Benny in the room. He made sure of it, in fact.