Personal Demons (8 page)

“Still,” she says, looking back at the picture, “that’s gotta be rough.”

“It sucks, okay? Can we talk about something else?”

Her eyebrows raise and she holds up her hand. “Sorry.”

I breathe deep and drop my head. “Sorry, Tay. But it
does
suck, and there
isn’t
much to talk about. It was an accident . . .” As I say it, my throat closes completely. I start to gasp for air, but the stars in front of my eyes get brighter till I’m sure I’m going to pass out.

“Jesus, Fee.” Taylor runs to my side.

I grip her shoulder where she kneels next to me. “I’m . . . okay,” I gasp.

She springs up. “I’m getting your mom.”

“No!” I brace my hands on my knees and work to pull air into my lungs. I shake my head as the stars fade. “I’m okay, really.”

“What was that, like asthma or something? How did I not know you have asthma?”

There’s a lot you don’t know about me.

I glance back at Matt’s picture, working to keep the air moving in and out, then look at Taylor and shrug. “Sorry.” I turn back to my calculus book on the desk.

Taylor looks at me a moment longer. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.”

She sprawls on my bedroom floor, hovering over her calculus book and chewing the eraser off her pencil. “So, how did you manage to get the two hottest guys in the universe as essay and lab partners?”

I don’t look up. “Don’t know, just karma I guess.”

“And now they’re falling all over you. I
so
don’t get it. It’s like you turned into freakin’ Paris Hilton.”

“Nobody’s falling all over me,” I scoff, but the truth is she’s right. They
are
kinda falling all over me. And the rest of the truth is I kinda like it.

I spread glue on the back of the magazine clipping I just cut out, trying not to gloat, and reach up to stick it on a tangerine patch of wall above my dresser. Taylor gets up and pulls a fistful of Sharpies out of her bag. She walks over to inspect the picture of the Mona Lisa I just stuck to my wall. Shooting a wicked grin at me over her shoulder, she writes, “Mona Lisa,” in dark blue ink above it and then scribbles under it, “needs to get laid.”

“Your room is almost due for a repaint,” she says, looking over my last few years’ worth of art as she lowers herself back to the carpet.

Nearly every inch of wall is covered with some random image, from faces to flowers to furniture, most of them sporting some commentary authored by either Taylor or Riley. Every few years we take a trip to the paint counter at the True Value and ask for anything they’re throwing away, then we bring it back and take the rollers to my walls. The last batch featured tangerine orange, burgundy, petal pink, taupe, Gumby green, and robin’s egg blue, which are now in nearly covered patches all around my room. There has to be at least six layers of paper and paint by now.

I sit back down at my desk under the window and hunch over my calculus book. “I think I might keep it. I’ll be leaving for LA in the fall, and I don’t want to come home from college to depressing, blank walls.”

“I guess. . . . So, are you gonna cut one of those guys loose or what?”

I don’t lift my head from my book as I respond drily. “Which one would you like, Tay?”

“Luc.”

“What?”

“You asked me which one I wanted. Luc.”

I breathe back the flare of jealousy. I knew this was coming. “So what happened to Marty?”

“He’s cute and all, but if it’s between him and Luc . . . no contest.”

“Really . . . why?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s the mystery. And the piercings,” she says, flicking the ring through the corner of her lip. “And he seems kinda dangerous, which I like. It’s sorta like anything could happen when you’re with him.”

“I guess.”

“But for some unknown reason, I think he’s really into you.” She shakes her head with a smile, then her hand dips into her book bag on the bed and comes out with a two-inch foil square pinched between her index and middle fingers. “Do you even know what to do with him?” With a flick of her wrist, the condom Frisbees across the room, hitting me in the shoulder and falling to the floor at my feet.

I know
exactly
what to do with him. I’ve been practicing in my dreams. “Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes.

She blows out a sigh. “I think you’d have an easier time shaking Gabe.”

My door swings open, and Mom is standing there with
two glasses of milk, like we’re still eight years old. “Who is Gabe?”

Taylor cracks a grin as I palm the condom off of the floor and into my book bag. “Just a guy at school,” I say as I straighten up in my chair.

Mom smiles. “You should bring him by. I’d love to meet him.”

I feel the heat rise in my face and hope I’m not as red as I think I am. “He’s really just a friend, Mom.”

“I love to meet your friends,” she says, handing us the milk and smoothing her skirt.

“I’ve got a different friend coming over to study tomorrow.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“Him. His name is Luc.” I ignore Taylor’s grin.

“Well, good. I’ll look forward to meeting him.” She smiles at Taylor. “I’ve got chocolate chip cookies in the oven. Save some milk and I’ll bring some up in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” I say as she turns and leaves, closing the door behind her and leaving the faint scent of jasmine in her wake.

Taylor smirks. “Maybe you should bring Gabe home too. Let your mom help you decide. She’d pick Gabe for sure. He’s got a more wholesome feel.”

“Leaving Luc for you. How convenient.”

The truth is Gabe
does
have a more wholesome feel, but that doesn’t keep my dreams about him from ending up in the same place my dreams about Luc do. I feel my cheeks flush just thinking about it.

The tingle that courses through me is followed by a dizzying sense of déjà vu. We’ve had conversations like this before, and
I could always count on Taylor to scoop the guy. It hits me like a bolt of lightning why I’ve always kept her close. She’s been my safety net. She’s always got the guy ’cause I’ve
let her
—I’ve wanted her to. Only one guy has ever gotten through that net and turned out to be a little dangerous . . . to my heart, that is. Ryan.

I don’t know what’s different, but I don’t want her to scoop the guy this time. Either of them.

She flops back on the bed and blows out a sigh. “So you
are
gonna keep them both,” she says, like she read my mind.

“Maybe.” Another thrill courses through me at my revelation. I want them and I’m not giving in to Taylor this time. I mask the smile I can’t stop as a yawn.

She lifts her head and glares at me. “Yeah, whatever. Just keep that condom handy.”

The smell wafting in under my door makes my mouth water a full minute before Mom shows up with a plate full of hot, gooey cookies. Taylor and I scarf them down and chug the milk. When we’re finished with our calculus we head downstairs.

“Mom! I’m walking Taylor home,” I holler on our way out the door.

She sticks her head through the kitchen door. “Okay. Come right back.”

We step out into the cool night, and Taylor loops her arm around my neck. “So, I heard Reefer tell Trevor you’re coming back to Roadkill.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Her lips pull into a mischievous smile. “Reefer’s your smart choice, you know—a geek of the Guitar Hero variety. He wants you back ’cause he knows he could never do better than you.”

“Thanks, Tay.”

“I meant that in a good way,” she laughs. “But, seriously, he’ll never blow you off. You should think about it.”

I glare at her. “Not gonna happen. Anyway, I’m leaving for college in September, so there’s not much point—in going back to the band, I mean.”

“So, you’re sure about UCLA? ’Cause you could still go to State with Riley and me. It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” she says.

I look down the street toward Taylor’s. There are no streetlights along this stretch of Amistad Road, so it’s illuminated only by post lanterns in front yards and the silver light of the half-moon. “UCLA has the best international relations program in the country. I was really lucky to get in. Plus, the full academic scholarship made it kinda hard to say no.”

“I don’t know why you think it’s your job to save the world.”

“If we don’t save ourselves, who’s going to? Plus, you know I can’t stay here.”

She looks hurt. “Why? What’s so bad about here?”

I hook my arm around her waist as we cross the street and step up onto the sidewalk. The neighborhood is quiet except for the Coopers’ cocker spaniel, Crash, who’s sticking her nose through a knothole in the fence and having a conniption as we walk by their house.

“Nothing, except if I go to State, my parents will expect me to live at home. Plus, Mary and Kate are there. You know me. I just really need to do something different.” We slide past house after house, all the same from the outside, and all quiet tonight.

“You’re not the LA type, Fee. They’ll eat you alive. Actually,
I’m
the LA type,” she says, running her hand through her pink spikes.

“You should come with me. How cool would that be? Tay and Fee, tearing up LA.”

“Yeah,” she says dejectedly, and then I feel bad, ’cause for Tay, it was State or nothing. Her dad’s been out of work for over a year. “I’m not even sure about State. If I can’t swing a few more scholarships, it ain’t gonna happen.”

“Well, maybe you can come visit, like, for spring break.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She sighs deeply and hikes up her book bag with a jerk of her shoulder. Her body tenses under my arm. “They’re foreclosing on our house.”

“What?”

“We have to move.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re looking for an apartment.” She quickly wipes away the tear leaking from the corner of her eye as we turn the corner onto her street.

“Oh, man.” My stomach’s in my throat and I squeeze her. “Tay . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing to say . . . except which of those guys you’re gonna pick,” she says with a weak smile.

“Jesus, Tay. Bigger things to worry about, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but I want to worry about this. So which one?”

“Shut up.”

“When you give me a name. Luc or Gabe,” she says, turning up her driveway and towing me along by the neck.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Name.” She squeezes the back of my neck.

“Stop it!”

“Name.” Now she’s shaking me.

“Fine! Luc.” I’m not totally sure if I said that ’cause I meant it or ’cause Taylor said she wanted him.

“Damn, you’re harsh! I couldn’t even get the sympathy vote,” she says, but she surprises me by pulling me into a hug. Her lips hint at a smile as she pushes open her front door. “Text me after Luc leaves tomorrow.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I want details,” she says with her lascivious smile. She steps in, and I hear her father yelling in the background before she closes the door behind her.

I stand on Taylor’s front steps in the moonlight for a long minute, staring up at the constellations swirling above my head. Other than Crash barking down the street, the neighborhood is eerily quiet tonight.

There has to be something I can do to help Taylor. I feel sick as I think about her family getting kicked out of their house. She’s lived here all her life. Maybe the church can help. They’ve gotta be good for something. I’ll talk to Dad.

I turn to step off the porch just as the front door flies open and Trevor darts out, slamming into me and sending me flailing down the porch stairs.

“Jesus, Frannie,” he says through his surprise, grabbing my arm to steady me.

I brush him off. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” he says and starts to back down the driveway. I follow.

“You okay?”

He glances warily at the house and spins, walking quickly toward the street. “Yeah. Just needed to get out of there. Thinking
about heading over to Riley’s,” he says, and a wistful smile barely quirks his lips.

“So, when are you guys gonna tell Tay?”

His wistful expression becomes anxious and his eyes shoot to mine. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not gonna say anything. But you should. And you better not be screwing with Riley.”

He stops walking and looks me in the eye. “I’m not,” he says as his eyes soften. Then he grins and starts walking again. “But speaking of screwing with people, what’s with you and Jackson? He does nothing but drool over you all day. It’s totally pathetic.”

“I’m not screwing with him. I tell him every chance I get to leave me the hell alone.”

“Mixed signals,” he says.

“What part of ‘get lost’ is confusing him?”

“The making-out-in-the-closet part.” He grins and nudges my shoulder.

I cringe. “Everybody makes mistakes. Help me out?”

“I’ll think about it.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “Does Reefer even have a shot at getting back with you?”

I smile despite myself. “Tragically, no.”

“Figured. He’s still crazy in love with you, you know.”

And that’s the problem. He thinks he loves me. I shrug. “He’ll wake up one day and realize he was temporarily insane.”

“You’re busting hearts all over the place,” he says with a smile and a wave over his shoulder as he turns to cross the street toward Riley’s.

I dig my hands deep into my pockets against the chill that’s
creeping into the night air and watch my feet shuffle down the sidewalk toward the corner, smiling to myself. Maybe Riley’s finally found The One. Too bad she won’t live long enough to enjoy it, ’cause Taylor’s gonna kill them both.

As I meander down the dimly lit street, I think about why it was Luc’s name I blurted under pressure. Gabe is gorgeous for sure, and just thinking about him makes me tingle in places I’ll never admit to. He’s every girl’s dream . . . God knows he’s been in plenty of mine. He’s also clearly the safer choice, ’cause Luc seems more like he could be every girl’s nightmare. Aside from that body—my dreams about which embarrass even me—and that face, there’s his dark energy. It scares the hell out of me but also speaks to me like some shadowy siren song that holds me and won’t let me go. A girl could lose control with him—which I don’t do. Ever.