The Princesses of Iowa (39 page)

The ambulance pulled out of the parking lot after the squad car, lights and sirens going. I rubbed my eyes with my long black scarf. As the crowd began to stand, stretch, and disperse, I noticed for the first time that some people had been seated on metal bleachers.

The health teacher gestured to the scene. “Let this be a lesson to you. You could kill the people you love! You could end up in prison for the rest of your life!”

It spells DIEDD, because we could have DIED.

I took a deep breath, looking at the toad-faced health teacher. “It wasn’t real.”

“Oh, it’s real, all right,” the health teacher said, frowning at me.

“But Ethan and the others aren’t really dead.” I clenched my scarf in my fists.

The health teacher crossed her arms, looking morbidly satisfied. “They would be, that’s for sure!”

A girl behind her said, “They wouldn’t have a hearse in real life. That’s not accurate.”

“Yeah,” her friend agreed. “They load bodies into ambulances, not hearses.”

The health teacher shot them an evil look. “Get to class.”

“Everybody knows you shouldn’t drink and drive,” the girl said. “I can’t believe the school spent so much money trying to scare us.”

“Ethan’s not dead,” I said again, just to make it perfectly clear. Not dead. He wasn’t dead.

“He will be, if you kids drink and drive. . . .” the health teacher said, but I was hardly listening. I had to see for myself. I had to find him.

He tastes like vodka and ash and mint and teeth and his hand slides up your arm and it’s warm and it’s different from being with Jake; his lips ask questions and his fingers trace the skin down your neck and wander back up into the forest of your hair and you haven’t kissed anyone but Jake in two years and you really shouldn’t be doing this. But he’s so gentle and you’re so sleepy and it’s all brand-new, like you’re exploring room after room of an infinite mansion, each room more beautiful than the last. . . . “Paige! Prescott! I’m shocked!” And Prescott practically jumps to the other side of the couch, abandoning you to the cold center. “We weren’t —” he says. “Nothing happened. . . .”

Lacey ignores him and says, “It’s time to go. Where’s Nikki?” and you don’t know and she acts like somehow that’s your fault, like you can’t do this one simple thing, “Are you such a slut that you put your snatch before your friends?” and you protest that nothing happened — nothing happened! — you try to catch her to make her listen, you want to grab her by the shoulder and spin her around and make her believe that nothing happened but she’s not listening, she’s stalking through the halls opening every door in the house, startling couples in compromising positions and surveying piles of passed-out bodies before she finds Nikki half naked and being licked from navel to neck by some creepy dude you’ve never seen before.

“Time to go,” Lacey announces. “Sorry, Charlie.” She crosses her arms until Creeper backs off and Nikki rolls off the bed, giggling. “Moooomm, do I have to?” She laughs and Lacey nods without smiling and you’re gathering Nikki’s things and she’s like, “My shirt, where’s my shirt?” and you throw a T-shirt off the floor at her and she’s like, “That’s not my shirt. I need my shirt, my shirt. I got it at the Mall of America last summer,” and Lacey lets out a loud huff and bends down to look under the bed. Creeper starts snoring and Lacey flings a shirt at Nikki, who hugs it and squeals and then hugs Lacey and says, “You’re such a good friend, thank you so much for that,” and Lacey nods and says, “Time to go,” and pushes her out the door.

In the living room Prescott is sitting on the arm of the ugly couch, leaning against the wall. “Hey,” he says, “maybe I could give you a call sometime?” Lacey shoves him and says, “She has a BOYFRIEND,” and he looks at you like he wants to say more but Lacey’s there between you, holding up Nikki who’s half asleep and daring you to choose her brother over your best friends, over your boyfriend, over your whole life. So you shrug unhappily and leave without saying a word, wandering out into the quiet Iowa City night.

You spend the two-block walk to the car encouraging Nikki to keep walking, while Lacey repeatedly refuses her requests to be carried. When you finally get there, Lacey digs the keys out of her purse and throws them at you, but you don’t catch them and they fall in the street. “Dammit, Paige,” Lacey says, and you’re fumbling around trying to find them and it occurs to you that you’re not really in any state to drive. “Maybe I shouldn’t — Prescott was making —”

You realize your mistake immediately but Lacey jumps all over it. “Prescott was what? I can’t even believe you were kissing my brother. That’s so wrong. Jake is going to be crushed.”

“You’re not going to tell Jake. You can’t tell Jake.”

She’s under the streetlight and her face is full of shadows. “I think Jake has a right to know, don’t you? I know I would want to hear if my boyfriend were making out with another chick. . . .”

Nikki complains about how cold and tired she is, and you finally manage to unlock the car and help her crawl into the backseat, where she curls up like a dog and promptly passes out.

Lacey stares at you, waiting. “Anytime now.”

“Wait, I’m driving?” you ask. “But I was drinking. . . .”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Paige. You’re the designated driver, so drive. Get in the goddamn car.”

“I don’t know, Lace. I don’t think . . .”

“What did you drink? Half a Corona? You never could hold your liquor.”

“Pres — your brother kept spiking my Cokes. I didn’t mean . . . but you and Nikki were missing, and . . .”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll drive. Give me the keys.”

“Have you been drinking? Are you drunk?”

“Give me the fucking keys, Paige.”

“Are you drunk? Maybe we should just call someone. . . .”

“We’re not fucking calling someone. If we’re not home by the time my mom gets back from Meskwaki, she’ll flip out, and I can’t even deal with that. Give me the keys.”

“My dad always said we could call him anytime and he’d pick us up, no questions. . . .”

“Give me the keys, Paige.”

I gave her the keys.

Ethan had disappeared. Shanti hadn’t seen him. Jeremy hadn’t seen him. I followed some student council members down the hall, hoping to find the dead. When I saw my sister, I shrieked and threw my arms around her, surprising both of us. “Don’t you ever do that!”

“Do what?”

“Die! You can’t die! I need you! Who else understands how crazy Mom is?”

Mirror laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” She touched the fake blood by her temple. “Isn’t this makeup cool?”

“No, it’s creepy!” I said. “Just — don’t die. Okay?”

She held up her hands, laughed again, and promised. Clearly, she had no idea how awful she looked, or how upsetting it was to see your sister be fake dead.

“Listen, Mir, have you seen Ethan?”

“Not since he got carted off in that hearse.”

I shuddered involuntarily.

“It wasn’t real, Paige.”

“I know that,” I said. “But it still freaked me out. After . . . you know.”

“Sorry,” she said, more gently. “All the dead kids have the rest of the day off, so that it seems more real — he might have taken off already.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.”

“I’m going to wash my face,” she said. “If I see him . . . ?”

“Tell him I’m looking for him.” My voice was strained, and even I could hear the edge of desperation in it.

My sister smiled. “Yeah. Of course.”

I found Nikki in the back hallway, near the auto shop. “Paige, you’re not supposed to be back here.” She rubbed her wrists where the handcuffs had been.

“Sorry, I was just looking for — are you okay?” Her eyes were sunken into her face and ringed in dark circles. She looked as bad as my sister, but she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. I just — put a lot of work into this thing, you know? Like, I’ve been up until one or two in the morning every night for the last two weeks, going over details, getting all the permission slips from everyone, watching online videos of how other schools did it, emailing with SADD people from other schools. . . .” She stopped and waved her hand. “Well, you don’t care.”

“I do, actually.”

She shook her head. “No you don’t. You think it’s stupid.”

“Nik, I —”

I stopped, remembering all the times I’d refused to participate, teased her about her acronym, didn’t listen when she tried to tell me what she was doing, didn’t speak up for her when other people made fun of her, accused her of being a hypocrite. Shit. I was an asshole.

“Nikki, I seriously don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s great.”

“You don’t have to say that.” She slid down the wall until she reached the radiator, settling her weight on her skinny elbows and knees. She looked so little.

I squatted beside her. “I’m not just saying it, Nikki. Really. I think . . . well, it’s hard to put yourself out there and actually try to make a change for the better.” With a pang of regret, I heard Ethan’s words in my own. Why hadn’t I listened more closely? Why hadn’t I paid attention?

“Then write Mirror’s eulogy.”

“What?”

“If you really care, help me out by writing your sister’s eulogy. Jeremy was supposed to, but he got overwhelmed by the whole Mr. Tremont thing and flaked on me.”

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t know . . .”

“We’re doing the mock funeral tomorrow night, before the crowning of the homecoming king and queen. I’d need you to deliver Mirror’s eulogy then.”

“You’re doing the funeral at the dance?”

Her face was set. “The whole town turns out to see the crowning ceremony, and I want this message to reach as many people as possible.”

I thought of Nikki at Lacey’s party, not so long ago, how fragile she’d seemed. She seemed so forceful now. She’d changed so much. We all had.

“Nikki —” I started, and then stopped.

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. You weren’t driving that night.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It took a while, but I remembered. I wasn’t driving.”

“Nik, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know how —”

She held up a hand, stopping me. “It wasn’t my fault. But it could have been.”

I sat back on my heels, studying her, and then nodded. “I’ll write my sister’s eulogy.”

The afternoon sky was dark and colorless as I trudged out to where the homecoming float was parked, behind the football field. I’d stumbled through the day in a haze. Ethan was nowhere to be found, and classes seemed weirdly empty without the missing kids. Nikki had actually been taken to court where she would be yelled at by a real judge, and I heard Jeremy was going to film it for her. And so, after everything, she wouldn’t even be on the homecoming float with us.

Only four princesses climbed up on the trailer, and we settled ourselves carefully atop the giant papier-mâché beehive. I sat on a little bench with Jenna, who looked beautiful in a white wool coat and perfectly tailored gray wool slacks. I felt like a slob next to her in my old black peacoat and jeans. A month ago, my mother would never have let me out of the house looking like this, but since she’d lost her job, she hadn’t been getting up in the mornings with us. I wondered if she’d even be watching the parade today.

The wind started to pick up as we rolled down the street behind the wheezing marching band, and I watched the teachers and parents along the sidewalks look at the sky and mutter to one another while the kids waved their hands and yelled for candy. Down in one of the chairs closest to the trailer hitch, Lacey waved regally to the crowd, letting the football player next to her throw candy for the both of them. As always, her hair was perfectly curled and falling just so over her school-spirit-yellow sweater. She had white gloves and white earmuffs but no coat. She was probably freezing, but she didn’t show it. Elbow, elbow, wrist wrist wrist. Serene, secure, waving to the crowd just as we’d always imagined.

I watched the people clustered along the curb, searching for two girls, middle schoolers, holding hands. One keeps her eyes fixed on the float, her face strong and determined. The other tries to focus on the parade but her eyes keep darting back to her friend. One day they’ll be up there, they promise, riding the float down the center of Main Street, surrounded by good-looking boys in letter jackets, perfect hair and perfect smiles, waving to an adoring crowd.

But of course I didn’t see them. Those girls existed in memory only. I tried to make myself feel something, tried to enjoy the moment we’d dreamed of for years, but all I felt was emptiness. After a few blocks I stopped waving, and I tried to focus on writing my sister’s eulogy in my head. I had no idea where to start. How the hell do you sum up your sister in three minutes? She’s your twin and your polar opposite. She’s your constant companion and your competition. She’s your best friend and the biggest bitch in the world. She’s everything you wish you could be and everything you wish you weren’t.