Harsh Pink with Bonus Content (21 page)

“Why are you so bummed tonight?” he asked me for like the fiftieth time.

“I don’t know,” I told him again. “Why don’t you quit asking me?” Of course, that somehow evolved into an argument. He assumed I was bummed because I wanted to break up. I assumed he was simply using that as an excuse because he wanted to break up. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew we had broken up.

The funny thing is that today I don’t really care. I don’t think I care about much of anything as I go to see who’s at the door. But when I look through the peephole and see that it’s Andrea Lynch, I’m tempted to pretend I’m not home. And yet I’m curious as to what she wants. So I open the door.

“Hello?” I say with a frown.

“Hi, Reagan.” She sticks her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and I take this as a hint that it’s cold out there. “Do you have time to talk?”

I shrug, opening the door wider. “You want to come in?”

“Thanks.”

Then we’re sitting in the family room and I am wondering what gives this girl enough nerve to just come over here uninvited, to sit here on our leather couch and act like she’s perfectly at home.

“I want to talk to you about Ruth.”

It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that she means Nana. “What about my grandmother?” I ask suspiciously.

“She misses you.”

“How would you possibly know that?”

“Because I’ve been visiting her.”

“What?” I begin to envision her as a stalker. Perhaps she’s using Nana to get to me. This is so pathetic and weird.

“Our youth group has been going to Martindale Manor for the past couple of years now.”

“Why?”

“It’s just something we do, a way to reach out to people. We visit the patients there, take them little gifts, spend time with them, no big deal.”

“Why do you do that?”

She shrugs. “Because that’s what Jesus would do.”

“Oh, right.” I try not to roll my eyes now.

“I know you don’t get that, Reagan, but that’s just because you’re not a believer yet.”

“Yet?” I stare at this pushy girl and wonder what makes her so confident and self-assured. She certainly doesn’t have the appearance of someone who would normally gain my respect. And yet, to be honest, I do sort of respect her. And this bugs me.

“Anyway, I was surprised to see that Ruth was there. She actually remembered me. Well, not my name, but she remembered me. And so I’ve been going to see her when I can. She asked me about you … and sometimes she even calls me Reagan.”

“She calls
you
Reagan?” Now this makes me want to scream and shout and throw this stupid girl out of my house.

“It’s only because she misses you,” she says calmly, “and because she’s confused.”

“Still.”

“Why did you stop visiting her?”

I put a chenille-covered pillow on my lap, then pull it up to my chest. I think I want to conceal the fact that there is a stake driven in there.

“I mean, I know it’s hard,” she continues. “Martindale Manor isn’t exactly the nicest nursing home in the world.”

“You’re telling me!” I sock the pillow now. “I think they send people there to die.”

“Which is one of the main reasons our youth group decided to commit to it.”

“Because you think the people there are going to die?” I demand hotly. “Do you go over there and try to save souls, just so you can put some sort of a notch on your belt?”

Andrea sort of laughs. “Not exactly. Oh, we do share the gospel with them sometimes. But mostly we just want to love them the way Jesus does — you know, unconditionally. And they respond to that kind of love. It’s amazing, really.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Well, I can see you’re not really interested in all that,” she says.

“Mostly I wanted to let you know that Ruth misses you.”

“Right.”

She leans forward slightly now, just sort of peering at me. “You seem really unhappy, Reagan.”

I shrug, look away.

“I know it’s none of my business, but if you ever want to talk … well, you know where I live.” Then she stands.

“Wait,” I say suddenly. “I’m just curious about something.”

She sits back down. “What?”

“What made you become … you know, like you are now?”

“You mean how did I become a Christian?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You really want to know?”

I consider this. “I think so.”

So she tells me about how she used to be sort of like me. She was fairly popular and she was striving to remain popular, but she was unhappy. She pauses now and looks at me. “Have any of your friends ever told you about Lisa?”

“Lisa?”

“Lisa Carlyle.”

“No. Who is Lisa Carlyle?”

“More like who
was
Lisa Carlyle.” Andrea sighs. “Lisa was my best friend. She was also good friends with Kendra, Sally, and Meredith.”

“So what happened with Lisa?”

“She died.”

I stare at Andrea, trying to determine if this is a true story or something she’s concocting just to reel me in. Maybe she thinks I’m like one of her old folks at the nursing home, like she can get me down on my knees and use me for another notch on her belt. “I take it I’m supposed to ask how she died.”

“Have you ever heard of the choking game?”

“Choking
game?” I make a face. “That doesn’t sound like a very fun game to me.”

“No, I didn’t think so either. Kendra was the one who taught us how to play it.”

“Kendra?” Now, I find this hard to believe, but I decide to go along with her.

“Yes. She had this slumber party in eighth grade and she showed us how to do it there. Even then, Kendra was the most popular girl. If you wanted to be liked, you listened to Kendra. If Kendra said, ‘Jump,’ you said, ‘How high?’”

I give her a look that’s meant to convey my skepticism, but I don’t say anything. I wish she’d just finish her story

“Anyway, we all tried it — the choking game. Everyone except Lisa. She was scared.”

“Okay, back up the truck,” I say. “What exactly is the choking game?”

So she explains how you use a rope or belt or something to constrict the blood flow around your neck. “You keep it there long enough to make you dizzy and sometimes you pass out. Kendra claimed that you could have visions or something. I guess some people find it euphoric, and I’ve heard it can actually become addictive.”

I suddenly remember a friend who used to do something like that. She called it zonking, but she didn’t tie anything around her neck. Even so, I thought it was bizarre. And it’s pretty hard to believe that Kendra could be into something like that. In fact, that’s just what I tell Andrea. “I’m sorry, but I find this hard to believe. Kendra is not that stupid and I cannot imagine her playing a game like that.”

“Well, we were only fourteen at the time. I’m sure she’s not into it anymore. But back then I have to admit it was sort of fun and exciting. Besides, like I said, if Kendra encouraged you to do something, you usually did it. If you didn’t, you were ostracized.”

“So Lisa was ostracized?”

“At first, but Kendra kept pushing her. She actually sort of bullied Lisa into trying it. Kendra didn’t want anyone to leave her party without trying it. I think she was afraid they’d tell someone and she’d get into trouble, but if we all did it, we’d be in it together. You know, sort of like a drinking party.”

“I guess.”

“Anyway, when Lisa finally tried it, she actually enjoyed it. She did it several times at the party. And I guess she kept doing it on her own too. I suppose it’s possible that she became addicted to it. I remember telling her that I thought it was stupid and she shouldn’t do it anymore. And she told me she had quit. But apparently that wasn’t the case. And one day she was doing it by herself in her room. She must’ve passed out for a long time, long enough that she never regained consciousness.”

I frown. “She
died
from playing the choking game?”

Andrea nods and her eyes get wet. “She died of asphyxiation.”

Okay, I feel bad for Andrea, but I’m having a hard time buying this. It seems impossible to think someone could actually die from playing this silly game. I wonder if she’s just messing with my head. Or maybe she’s trying to turn me against Kendra. “So are you saying it was Kendra’s fault that this girl — Lisa — died?”

“No, not exactly, but Kendra did pressure her into it. I mean the first time. I suppose it was Lisa’s choice to continue doing it. Still, it made me totally rethink the direction of my life.”

“And that’s how you became religious?”

“It made me start searching for answers.”

“And you think you found them?”

“When I discovered that God has a plan for me, and that I can have a personal relationship with Jesus, and that Jesus has forgiven me and given me a new life, yes, I knew I’d found the answers.”

“Well, good for you.”

“So you’re not looking for any answers?”

I press my lips together and wish this obnoxious girl would just go away.

“I’m not trying to push you, Reagan. It’s just that you do seem unhappy. And, whether you can admit it or not, I’m pretty sure you are searching. Or you’re about to start searching.”

“I’m just fine,” I tell her, standing up now. “But thanks for the sermon.”

She stands too. Then she smiles. “Sorry. I hadn’t really meant to preach at you. I only wanted to let you know that your grandmother misses you.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Then I lead her to the door and tell her to have a nice day, and it’s all I can do not to slam it behind her. What a bunch of hogwash about how it’s Kendra’s fault that some girl died in middle school. Like that’s supposed to be my problem now?
Puh-leez
.

For whatever reason, I decide that I will go to Sally’s party after all. I even go out and buy her a birthday card and present — a pair of silver hoop earrings that I think are pretty cool. The more I think about it, the more I believe Andrea Lynch is crazy — and that whole story about the choking game is probably bogus. Maybe she’s jealous that I’m friends with Kendra instead of her. Whatever it is, I decide not to think about it.

S
ALLY’S HOUSE ISN’T TOO FAR FROM WHERE
I
LIVE
. A
LTHOUGH IT’S AN OLDER
neighborhood, it’s not a crummy one like where Jocelyn lives. And her house is actually kind of cool, a turn-of-the-century Victorian, although it’s in need of a few repairs. I’ve ridden over with Kendra, and instead of knocking she opens Sally’s door and walks right in.

“Hey, you two,” says Sally happily. “You finally made it. Everyone else is already here.”

“I like your house,” I tell her as I hand her the gift and card. “It must be a fun place on Halloween.”

She laughs. “Oh, yeah, we used to decorate big-time when my sister and I were kids. We loved making this fake graveyard and everything. But Betsy’s in college now and I don’t really bother with it anymore. I think the trick-or-treaters actually get more scared when it’s not decorated. Especially if there aren’t many lights on.”

“Yeah,” says Kendra. “It can look pretty spooky.”

It turns out that Sally’s parents are gone for the weekend. I think this is a little odd, but then, Sally is turning eighteen. Maybe they assume she’s all grown up now. And she seems to think so too, since she’s got a variety of alcoholic beverages on hand. I try not to look surprised.

“Good thing Falon’s not here,” I point out as I pretend to sip the drink she’s mixed for me. It’s not exactly a Cosmo, like Kendra made, but it’s kind of sweet and pinkish. Still, I think it tastes awful and I don’t plan to finish it. However, the rest of the girls seem to be enjoying their drinks. I wish I’d known this was what tonight’s party was going to be like. I’m not sure I would’ve come. Even now, I’m wishing I’d driven myself. I could just slip out, and I doubt that anyone would even notice.

Sally points her finger at me. “You don’t seem to be having much fun, Reagan. Don’t you like your drink?” Then her eyes light up. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot what’s in the fridge.”