Pretty Girl Thirteen (8 page)

Five minutes into school and she’d already been recognized.

After class, Maggie dashed to the desk next to Angie’s before she could gather up her stuff. “You’re Angie Chapman, right?” she asked breathlessly. “You disappeared.”

Angie kept her voice low. “Well, I’m back.”

“Yeah. I can see that,” Maggie said. “But why are you in my class?”

What was she going to say, anyway? She knew the question would come up over and over. “I didn’t go to school for three years,” she answered.

“Lucky,” Maggie said. “I mean …” She stopped with an embarrassed, stricken look on her face.

Angie took pity on her. “Not really. Now I have to catch up. A lot.”

Maggie’s face lit up. “I know what. I’ll make you copies of all my notes so far.” She grabbed Angie’s arm. “And I can come over and, like, tutor you, but just for English and history. Maybe Jessica should do math, and Alan can do science.”

She peered at the departing line of kids and yelled, “Hey, Jess, Alan, come here. Guess what?”

Angie slipped her arm away. “That’s okay,” she began. “I don’t need …”

But it was too late. The two who had to be Jessica and Alan headed in their direction. Another kid behind them yelled, “Oh my God. Is that Angie Chapman? The Gone Girl?”

Oh Lord. Angie stood helplessly as the kids who hadn’t left already surrounded her. She felt an arm on her shoulder, a hand on her waist.

“I’ll carry these,” a boy said, and snatched her backpack from her. “Where are you headed next? I mean what class?”

The clump shepherded her through the hall six doors down to math. Angie disentangled herself from the two girls who’d linked her arms on either side, like Scarecrow and Tin Man dragging her off to meet the Wizard. “I think I can handle it from here, guys,” Angie said. “Um. Thanks.”

Half the group dispersed and half stayed for math, waiting till Angie picked a desk before they surrounded her like bodyguards. Trying to plot her getaway, she didn’t hear a word the teacher said, but since she had two folded notes in her hand offering to study for next Friday’s test together, maybe that didn’t matter.

The classroom door opened onto a mob scene. Kids were holding their phones, supposedly off-limits during school, reading the screens. They looked up as the math class spilled out. She heard her name cut through the hubbub, spoken high and low. Everyone must know by now. The buzz of the excited mob was deafening.

She grabbed Maggie. “Get me to the bathroom,” she hissed in her ear.

Maggie raised her voice. “Make way. Coming through.” She elbowed their way through to the girls’ room door.

Oh God, Angie prayed. Please don’t let every day be like this.

At the end of the day, all she wanted to do was get home and shower off all the handprints, throw her clothes in the wash, and listen to silence for a while. She was hurrying for the bus with an armload of books in front and her backpack bouncing against her spine when she heard Livvie’s unmistakable voice closing in on her from behind.

“Hey, you. New girl. Slow down.”

She walked faster, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d only had to deal with ninth graders so far. What would her old friends think?

“Hey, wait up,” a deeper voice called. Heavy footsteps followed her at a run. A hand stopped her at the shoulder. “Hey, you dropped—holy crap,” he said, catching sight of her face. “Oh my God, you look so much like someone I used to know. Whoa.”

Angie grabbed the ninth-grade vocabulary workbook in Greg’s outstretched hand. She would have recognized him anywhere, anytime. His black-lashed eyes hadn’t changed, nor his thick wavy Italian hair. But he’d sure grown up from his thirteen-year-old self. In the most amazing …

He’d already turned to yell back to Livvie. “Hey, Liv. Check it out. Who does she remind you of?” Back to Angie. “What’s your name, anyway?”

Angie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Livvie jerked to a halt, staring at her. All the color drained from her cheeks. She reached a hand forward and lifted Angie’s long hair back from her face. Angie stood frozen in place as Liv traced the pale scar line under her chin from the time they’d been practicing spin jumps into the pool. Liv whispered. “Oh my freaking … no way. Are you for real?”

Angie bit her lip and nodded. She couldn’t breathe.

Livvie squealed. “Oh my God, oh my God. Gregory, you idiot. It
is
Angie. Back from the dead, or what?” She wrapped her arms around Angie and threatened to break a rib with her python-strength hug. “You didn’t call… . How long …? Where …? Oh, shit, there’s too much I want to know all at once. Tell me, now. Now! Now! I insist!”

Breath exploded out of Angie, breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Livvie!” She squeezed back. Her cheeks burst with grinning, the first completely happy moment she’d had. Mom was right. She should have called.

Greg gaped and gulped like an air-drowning fish. “You … but … holy crap.”

His arms joined the group hug, long enough to wrap them both. “Un-freakin-believable.”

Angie leaned against him, immersed in his warmth. Wow, he’d grown. His heart was racing right under her ear—almost as fast as hers. As a thirteen-year-old mini-stud, he’d been hot, no doubt. As a sixteen-year-old dark-eyed hunk, he was scorching.

His hand rested on her waist now, but she didn’t mind. Not at all. His eyes took all of her in. “We thought you were for sure dead. Everyone thought so. You vanished!”

“Well. I’m back.” Angie found it hard to catch her breath, impossible to explain.

“I … we all lit candles for you.” His forehead creased.

“It was so beautiful,” Livvie said. “You would have loved it. I mean, if you could’ve been there.”

Greg broke up in hoots of laughter. “If she’d been there? Liv, think about it.” He shook his head, smiled wide, and wagged his finger at Angie. “You know, you stood me up for homecoming, which I knew you would never, never do unless you were really dead. I believe you owe me an apology.” He moved his finger to lift her chin. “Care to apologize and explain?”

A happy giggle escaped her lips. “I’m sorry. And yes, I’ll explain as much as I can.” She noticed a couple of heads turned their way, studying her with curiosity. They began to move—her gravity field was drawing them in again. “Not here. Somewhere private.”

“Chah,” Liv agreed. “Greg’s house. It’s walking distance from here. We can be private and you can tell all!”

Greg put an arm around each of their shoulders. Angie’s heart raced through the roof. It was like no time had passed for them either. All still friends. And the way Greg’s fingers casually twisted through her hair, maybe he still felt the way she did. A low, laughing voice in her head said,
Don’t worry, honey. We know how to find out, don’t we?

She snorted in surprise.

“What?” Greg asked. “Share the joke.”

“Sorry, a fly flew up my nose,” she lied. “Hey, where’s Katie? What’s up with her?”

Liv’s answer was completely unexpected. “Kate? Yuck. We don’t hang with her anymore. She’s, like, so immature, such a prude. We were having this bonfire last fall, and Kurt’s older brother got us a keg and she told.”

“Told who?”

“Her parents, the cops, the school. It was grievous. Kurt got three days’ suspension since he was hosting.”

An immediate sense of panic flooded her. “What? You can’t tell on your friends! That’s so completely wrong. She’ll burn in hell.” Angie was startled by the urgency and fear in her own voice. Hell? She didn’t even believe in Hell. Where had that come from?

Greg laughed. “Well, she got burned, all right. No one talks to her anymore. She’s lower than the outcasts.”

A fate worse than death in high school. Poor Kate, Angie thought. But she did it to herself. Telling. Didn’t she realize?

The sky hung overcast above them, and the breeze picked up—not a hot Santa Ana wind, but a preview of cooler weather. Angie shivered in her thin brown sweater—she hadn’t thought to buy a new jacket during her shopping spree. Greg pulled her closer under his arm, which totally made it worth freezing all the way to his house. He kept turning his head to look at her. She could feel his glance on her cheek, which was most certainly blushing.

Greg unlocked the front door and sent the girls into the kitchen. “Grab whatever you want to eat,” he said. “I have to make sure the coast is clear.” He disappeared.

“He’s shoving his dirty clothes under the bed,” Livvie explained. “He’s a total slob at home.” She stuck her head in the fridge and held out a can. “Want a Diet Coke?”

Angie accepted. “Thanks. It is
so
great to be with you guys again. You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had. Mobbed, flocked all day. Totally crazy.”

“I hear ya. Want some rum in it?” Liv asked. “I know where they keep it.” She grabbed two more cans and closed the door with her knee.

Angie was shocked. That was a change—the Liv she knew was a responsible straight-A student. But she said only, “No thanks. I’ve got a ton of homework. First day back, you know.”

“I know!” Livvie squealed. She rested her Coke-filled hands on Angie’s shoulders. Liv used to peer down at her from five-four. Now they were eye to eye. “But back from where, my mystery girl?”

“Still a mystery.” In a dramatic, confiding voice, Angie added, “Total amnesia.”

“You’re kidding me. No, really. Where were you? Follow me.” Liv headed to what had to be Greg’s room. “Was this, like, a reality-TV-stunt thing? Do you have a hidden camera on you? Because my butt’s not my best side.” She turned and grinned over her shoulder at Angie. Okay, that was more like Liv.

Greg’s room had that hastily cleaned-up look. The chair teetered with books and papers. The floor sported a couple of candy bar wrappers next to the trash can. The hunter-green plaid comforter hung crookedly on the low queen-sized bed. Greg sprawled up against the black bolster pillows along the wall, shoes off. Livvie handed him the two cans, slipped out of her flats, stepped into the middle of the bed, and sat pretzel-style. Angie copied her, careful not to spill her drink.

Greg took a large gulp and burped. He frowned. “But why is the rum gone?” he said in a slurry British accent.

Liv cackled. Angie didn’t get it.

“Pirates,”
Liv explained at Angie’s blank look. “Jack Sparrow?”

Angie shook her head helplessly. “What?”

“The mo-vie,” Livvie said as to a four-year-old. “
Pirates of the Caribbean
.”

“Oh. I’ve never seen it,” Angie said. “Is it good?”

“Never seen it?” Greg exclaimed. “Have you been living under a rock?”

Livvie glared and smacked him. “Greg, you total jerk.” She wrapped a possessive arm around Angie. “A little sensitivity, please?”

“Probably,” Angie replied to him. “Total amnesia.” She’d decided the two-word answer would cover a lot of ground.

“No way,” Greg said, his dark eyes big and round. “That’s totally cool. I mean, you could have been anything, anywhere.”

“Abducted by aliens,” Livvie said.

“Living in a tree house, or a castle!” Greg suggested.

Livvie squeezed her arm. “When you never came back to the tent that morning, I was the one who had to go wake up the grown-ups and tell them. I was completely freaked out. You know?”

Livvie was freaked. How long had she waited to tell? Could they have found her faster? That was a terrible, terrible thought. Angie pushed it far from her mind.

Greg had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He bonked her gently on the head with his palm. “Did that help? Maybe we can cure you. Hey, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Angie wracked her brains. “Saying ‘total amnesia.’”

Greg punched her lightly in the arm. “Before that.”

“Nothing,” Angie said.

“That is not an acceptable answer,” Liv chided. “You remembered us.”

Angie sighed. “Here’s the whole story, as much as I know. Girl Scout camp. Woke up early. Talked to Liv. Remember? Snuck out to use the tree. Got lost in the woods. Three years go by. Presumed dead. Showed up in the neighborhood. Here I am… . Not terribly dramatic, is it?”

“I, for one, am disappointed,” Liv said with a pout. “I expected a juicier tale of abduction and debauchery.”

“What’s debauchery?” Angie asked.

“No, seriously,” Liv said. “Do you think it was something awful? Like you were a slave or a harem girl?”

Angie’s thoughts flew to the scars hiding under her socks. “I … no. I don’t remember.” Too serious. Change up. “Sure. Like this could be the body of a harem girl.” She drew exaggerated swells with her hands where she had these new curves and slim hips.

Greg’s eyes followed her hands. His smile wasn’t mocking, though. Something else. “Hang on,” he said. “Maybe you
are
dead. I mean, maybe you’re a ghost. Let’s check.” He reached over and tickled her.

Well, one thing hadn’t changed. She was still incredibly ticklish. She collapsed in giggles, nerves on fire all up and down her sides.

Greg was relentless, his fingertips everywhere. “We’re the only ones who can see you, and you came back to haunt us because you have unfinished business on earth.”

Liv grabbed his hands away. “Let the poor ghost breathe,” she said tartly. “Anyway, she looks solid to me.”

“Then a zombie!” Greg announced. His hand slowly traced the writing stitched across the chest level of Angie’s sweater, and she pinged deep inside. “An Aberzombie!” He rolled over with his head in her lap. “Don’t eat me, Angie. Don’t eat my brain,” he pleaded. His curls tickled her arms. She suddenly wanted to lean over and kiss him, but not with Liv looking on.

Liv pursed her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous, Greg. You’re being ridiculous.”

A phone rang, and Livvie grabbed it out of her pocket. “What, Mom?” she snapped. “Shi—ooot. Be right there.” She scowled. “Forgot I’m babysitting. Hey, Angie, I’ll give you a ride home. The school bus is way gone.”

Angie met Greg’s eyes. His face said what she was thinking. Unfinished business. “That’s okay. I can wa—”

“I’ll drive her,” Greg jumped in. “No big. You’re already late.”

Liv snatched up her book bag and jammed it on her shoulder. She hesitated at the doorway. “So, bye then,” she said. “Call me, Ange. As soon as you’re home.” She waved her phone in the air. “Same number. Remember it?”