Читать книгу: «Mean Girls», страница 6

My eyes were burning now. “I just walked in, I’m not sure how long she’s been talking or if it cut her off.” I heard Lily in the background saying she had just called me. “Anyway, we miss you and can’t wait until you come home. Love you, talk to you soon.”

And that was it. I used to hear every one of those voices every day, and took them completely for granted. I couldn’t even mentally utter the old saying about “knowing what you’ve got.” I just missed them, even after this short period of time. I was so incredibly nostalgic for a life I knew I’d never, ever have again. But at this moment, I wanted nothing more than to give up on this stupid place and go back home. I looked at the weather app on my phone. It had been eighty-three degrees back home. The next two days were sunny, and the third had thunderstorms. I loved thunderstorms.

As for Manderley, the weather was anticipated to be overall gloomy, with a temperature of sixty the next day, with cold rains and a low of forty-three. Cold rains are really, really different than warm thunderstorms.

I tried home once more. When there was no answer, I left my own voice mail. “Hey, everyone, um …” Here it was. My opportunity. If I told my parents I hated it, they would let me come home. I could be home in forty-eight hours, sitting in the living room with my mom. She’d listen to my woes sympathetically and without judgment. I could be back at my high school in time for Homecoming. “I miss you all so, so much. I—It’s …”

If I left, everyone would know why. If people talked about me, they’d say, Remember that new girl? No, not Becca, the short one with the stupid freckles.

Becca left here, alive or not, and left behind a legacy. I wasn’t as good as her, only because she was so … whatever she was. If I walked out now, I’d be telling everyone they were right. If I left now, I’d be a coward who runs scared from the ghost of a girl who haunts the halls.

“Manderley is amazing. I can’t wait until you can see it in person. The classes are pretty hard, but not worse than I thought they’d be. Love you all. Lily, give Jasper a paw-shake and a hug for me, okay?” I briefly envisioned how good it would feel just to scratch his ears and give him a squeeze. “Love you. Miss you. I have to go turn my phone back in now. I still love it by the way, thanks so much for getting it for me.” I was rambling. “Okay, bye now.”

I texted each of my friends, giving them a brief and respectively varied miss you, wish I was home, xoxo, and then turned the phone off. It felt like saying goodbye to my visitors and returning to my jail cell.

The only way I could think of to extend the visit would be to go to the library, to the one computer equipped with the ability to do anything but look up journal articles and other scholarly things, and log on to Facebook for the first time since I’d left home.

I really shouldn’t have. It was just more of the same torturous happiness from my old life. My friends wrote to say they missed me. It was really flattering and nice, but it just hurt. It hadn’t been long since I’d left, but it felt like it had been so much longer. Leah wrote, Already forgotten about us, huh? Ugh! Fine, go make your new friends … what do I care? Haha, just kidding. Miss you, come visit!

I looked at the pictures from the cookout, and everything else my friends had been up to lately. It was like digging into my own flesh to find a bullet. I couldn’t even get through the whole album of all of my friends wearing sweatshirts with shorts and flip-flops, still sporting sunburns at the cookout. Leah had tagged me in one picture as an extra marshmallow on a stick and her and Emma pouting.

I glanced at the other albums, of them just two days before, swimming in Lucy’s aunt’s pool in the afternoon and then in the hot tub at night.

Then I thought of something. I hesitantly typed her name into the search box. And then there she was.

Rebecca Normandy. Her profile was restricted so that I couldn’t see anything but her profile pictures and the comments on her wall. It was really kind of disturbing. She’d been missing for almost five months, and there were still comments from the past few days, from people whose names I didn’t recognize.

Miss you, beautiful.

I love you and miss you every day. Please come back soon.

XOXOOXO

Hey, remember that one time with the shoelaces and the Barbie? Oh, my God, the look on his face … Bahahaha come back, slut, I miss you!

They were all writing to her like she was checking her Facebook regularly. I wondered, with a pang, if she was. What had Dana suggested the other night? That she was off “handling” something.

I kept scrolling, and found Dana’s most recent post: I know you’re not gone. I know it. So stop. Come back. Or at least contact me.

There were tons more comments like those and like Dana’s. It was creepy. Spooky.

And it made me really wonder what had happened. Maybe she wasn’t even missing. Maybe everyone knew where she was, and she was just … hiding for some reason. That would be crazy … but maybe that’s what it was.

But if she wasn’t … what had happened? Blake had said something about a boat that went missing that night in the storm. Had Becca taken it out? She couldn’t have. It was pitch-black down there at night, and in a storm? She could have just called a cab, like Blake had said, on the payphone in the lobby and … left.

To make my brain strain more, I clicked on her pictures. I could only see a few, but they were enough. In the one she had set as her default, Max was kissing her on the cheek, and she was smiling. In the next few, she just looked pretty. She looked like she was trying to look pretty, but she was undeniably succeeding. All the comments on her pictures confirmed it.

A sudden jab of uncharacteristic jealousy struck me. She’d been new at Manderley last year. How had she managed to make so many friends here, made such an impact, while I was greeted with only hesitance quickly followed by disinterest? Madison and Julia made some kind of an effort with me, and Johnny was nice. Max was … something. Blake was nice, too, I guessed. But Dana …

There was only a handful of people I’d even talked to, and all of them—except maybe for Cam, who rarely spoke—seemed morbidly and irreversibly affected by Becca. They all knew her. It’s not like each of them talked only about her, but somehow that seemed more significant.

I don’t know what happened to me, then. I was depressed about being away from home and jealous of Becca one moment, and then the next, something shifted in me. It was as if my skeleton turned to iron—I was strong, and I would not have my happiness and fate decided by some popular girl who had reigned before I got there.

It wasn’t up to Becca or Dana how I lived my life.

chapter 9 becca

BECCA LEANED ON MAX, WITH HER DRINK IN hand. His arm was around her, tightened a little to keep her steady. He laughed at something Johnny said. Becca wasn’t really paying attention. She was watching the way Johnny’s muscles flexed when he moved his arms. He was too hot. But she couldn’t go for him. She’d already gotten the ungettable.

Well. Almost gotten him. Tonight was the night to seal the deal. Madison and Julia had given her sympathy and said “not to feel too badly about him not wanting to get together officially, because really he just never does that.”

Fuck that.

Becca’s eyes slid involuntarily up Johnny’s body and she flinched when she realized he was looking at her, too. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. Quickly she glanced up at Max, who had been taking a swig of his drink and didn’t notice.

“Max,” she said, readjusting her attention to him. “Let’s go outside.”

“Okay.”

Johnny had already turned away when Becca looked back.

She grabbed his hand. “Lead the way.”

Max guided her through the crowd, smiling and shaking his head at all of the “ooh’s” and “get it, Holloway!” as they passed by.

Once they were outside, she gave him the look that always made boys kiss her.

It worked. He laid a hand on her jawbone and pulled her toward him. He was a good kisser. She should want this. But she felt like something was missing with him. She kissed him harder, hoping she could forget the thoughts in her mind.

She pulled away and smiled slyly. Then she yanked his arm and guided him away from the door and into the darkness behind the boathouse.

He silently allowed her to take him there. Then, in the darkness where she could pretend he was anyone, she kissed him hard. He kissed her back. So he was capable of not kissing just like a Nice Guy. She scratched his back, and all the way around the waistband of his boxers, which were a little higher than his slightly loose pants. She unbuttoned his top button. She could feel that he wanted it. And she was going to give it.

His grip on her waist tightened. She bit his lip and unzipped his pants, slowly dropping to her knees. She ran her hands up and down his legs, and kissed the sharp muscles of his hip. Then she did it.

A few minutes later, her lips were pink and so were Max’s cheeks. She’d finished and then zipped and buttoned him back up.

“Becca …” Max said. He pulled her in toward him, and kissed her from her raw lips to her collarbone. Then he saw the look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, as unconvincingly as she could.

“You’re obviously not … what’s wrong?”

She sighed, a tad theatrically. “Nothing …”

He looked her in the eyes and silently demanded an answer.

“I just … never do that sort of thing. And—” she intentionally let her breath quiver “—I just don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

She’d used her sex appeal to get her anywhere she’d ever been in life so far. And this was not the first time she’d had this conversation.

“I don’t.”

“How could you not? I mean I’m not even your girlfriend …”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She was worried about exactly that. She wanted him to spread around how fantastically talented she was at … stuff.

“I appreciate that. But I don’t care about what other people think. I care about what you think. And I want you to think I’m respectable. God … first we did it on my first night here, and now this? I’m so stupid.”

Becca ran a hand through her long hair, swooping it to one side.

“No, you’re not.”

“Why would you like me?” She put on her cute voice.

He shrugged. “I just do.”

That was not a good answer. She was used to guys falling at her feet and giving her laundry lists of reasons why they loved her.

She paused, and then tried to look sullen. “We just can’t do this again. We can’t do this until—I mean, unless we’re official. I just can’t live with myself.”

Becca watched him decide what his next move was.

“If that’s how you feel about it, I understand.”

She nodded. Dammit. He wasn’t going in for this.

Later that night, after Max had been too understanding and left her alone the rest of the night, Becca went up to her room to stumble out of her clothes and into a slip.

“You okay?” Dana asked from her bed.

Shut. Up. That was all Becca wanted to say. But instead she held up a hand and gave thumbs-up, her other hand putting pressure on her throbbing head.

“Should I get you some water? I have some Excedrin.”

“Two.” She held out a hand again, without looking. She heard Dana scrambling up and out of her bed to get the bottle.

“Here,” said Dana, handing her a bottle of water and the pills.

“You don’t have any cold water?”

“No, sorry.”

Becca took the Excedrin. “Gimme another one.”

“Another what?”

“Pill.”

“You’re really only supposed to take two, I think.”

“Just give it to me, Jesus. You’re not my mother, so don’t baby me.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” She put another pill in Becca’s extended palm.

Becca downed that one, too. “What are you, mad now?”

“No …?”

“Okay, then.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Dana asked sheepishly.

“Like … five hours ago.”

“What did you have?”

“A salad. Why are you—?”

“Because you’re not supposed to take that stuff on an empty stomach.”

That was probably true. She didn’t need to feel even sicker in the morning than she was already bound to.

“Fine.”

Becca threw on a sweatshirt and then walked down to the always-open dining hall in bare feet and no bra. She looked like hell, and really hoped she wouldn’t see anyone.

But of course, Johnny was sitting at a table in the middle of the hall, eating a sandwich.

He spotted her and smiled. “C’mere.”

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. So where’d you and Max go off to earlier?”

“We were just talking.” She eyed him, and ran a finger through her hair. “Where were you? You were gone when we came back in.”

“Yeah, I mean the hottest girl at the party left, so I didn’t see why I should be there anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” She smiled.

He nodded and took a sip of his Sprite.

“So are you and Max …”

“I’d have to be really stupid to go out with a guy already, wouldn’t I?” She didn’t want to think about how Max had rejected her earlier.

He shrugged. “Maybe. I think he likes you. He never talks about that kind of thing though.”

“I don’t care if he does.”

One bagel and the rest of Johnny’s Sprite later, he was walking her out of the dining hall. She suddenly didn’t want to go up to sleep yet. Her headache was already gone, and she had a second wind of energy gusting through her.

“Hey, what’s down that hallway?”

Johnny looked where she pointed. “Oh, that’s … the staff room and a bunch of the teachers’ offices.”

She smiled and marched down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Come on! I wanna see this ‘staff room.’”

He followed her. “You’re a crazy little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulled open the heavy wooden doors that led to the darkened hallway. He closed them after they walked through.

Becca turned and could feel she was inches from him. She felt the light that slipped through the crack in the doors hit her face. She narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, “I’m not a little girl.”

He gave a small moan as she looked up at him. She could see his eyes now. He made the tiniest movement toward her and she turned to run down the hallway, her bare feet tapping against the hardwood floors. She stopped in front of the double doors that had Staff Only written in gold.

He strode after her and pushed down on the handle to open one of the doors.

“I can’t believe it’s not locked.” He held it open for her and then shut it behind them.

This room was also dark. There were flags around its perimeter and a long, darkly wooded meeting table in the middle, surrounded by chairs. There was an unlit fireplace, and a mantel beneath a large oil painting of the dean.

She took off her sweatshirt, aware that her slip rose a little as she did so. She tossed it on the ground.

“Well, if you’ll please take your seat at the end of the table—” she gestured at the biggest chair “—this meeting can begin.”

Johnny smiled and sat down where she’d indicated. She slid onto the table in front of him. Maybe it was the alcohol left in her system, but he was a lot more attractive than she’d noticed before.

“I think we both know why we’re here.” Johnny spoke smoothly.

Becca’s heart leaped a little, but she remained composed. “I think I need reminding.”

“Because,” he said, slouched in his seat, “we’ve got a student here at Manderley who is just not behaving.”

“I think I know who you’re talking about.”

“The miscreant who led poor Johnny Parker into the break-in of this—” he pounded on the desk and moved toward her “—very room.”

“Really? Because as I see it, poor little Miss Normandy was influenced by this Mr. Parker.”

He stood up, in between her legs. She leaned back, looking at him with all the sexy she could conjure.

Johnny effortlessly pulled her toward the edge of the table. She planted her feet on the armrests of the chair he’d vacated. He lifted the silky fabric and ran his hands along her skin, wrapping his touch around her hips and up her back. He sharpened his grip as he moved down to her thigh.

Becca’s smile faded as want filled her chest and made it clench. It ran through her legs and made them close to shaking. It was in her head, making her dizzy and light-headed. She could hear her own breath in the still, dark room. She could hear his, too, and she saw that he was no longer looking clever.

His hands were gentle, and her muscles tensed as he ran his fingers farther up her leg. He came closer and kissed her neck, as Max had done earlier. It felt so different when Johnny did it. All Becca wanted now was for him to come even closer. And he did. He moved in and put his lips to her ear. His breath blew her hair just enough to send a tingle down her spine.

“What do you want, new girl?” His whisper was slow and deep.

“You,” she said desperately. She wasn’t in control. She was uninhibited and desperate for him.

With one hand still on her upper thigh, taunting her, he moved his other to her hair. He pulled it slightly, exposing more of her neck. She surrendered, leaning back with her eyes shut. Her breath came faster now. His hand moved just enough higher, and his lips moved down to her chest. He gently dropped her straps.

Less than two weeks since she’d lost her virginity, and her number had already doubled.

The following Monday, as Becca dawdled her way to English class, Johnny pulled on her arm and dragged her out the side door.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What are you doing?” Johnny looked livid. “You told me you weren’t with Max!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you—” He paused, looking like he was trying to remember her exact wording. “But you’re hooking up with him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He told me, Becca. In the locker room after practice.”

A small thrill of satisfaction rolled through her. Finally, Max was bragging about her. “What did he say?”

“I asked him if you guys were a thing, and he shrugged and said, and I quote, ‘we hooked up a few times.’”

That was not quite as flattering. But whatever.

She smiled. “So are you jealous?”

There was a flicker of movement in the corners of his mouth. “I’m not saying that. It’s just not right. He’s my best friend.”

“Okay, sure, and if he’s too stupid to snap me up …” She narrowed her eyes playfully.

“Stop that, Becca, come on.”

“Stop what?”

“We had …” He looked around and lowered his voice even more. “We had sex and now this is just not right, I can’t be—”

She rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall. “Oh, Johnny, you stop it. You’re thinking way too hard. We’re young. We only have two years left. Just go with it. No one’s getting hurt. No one’s going to get arrested or die. It’s all good.”

She could tell she was winning him over. But he still looked like he might argue.

“Look,” she said, “is all this to say that you don’t want to do it again?” Becca ran a hand through her hair and pushed herself off the wall. “Because I’m not going to stand here all day and beg for you.”

She would not be rejected by both of them. If she walked away it would be her choice, not because he denied her.

He was silent for a moment, thinking. Her heart jumped as she realized he really might say no. She shook her head irritably and pushed past him. She got a few steps before he called her name. She hesitated and then kept walking.

“Becca … Becca!” He jogged up behind her. His hands on her shoulders stopped her.

He glanced around, and when he saw no one, he kissed her. It sent a shock through her. She hadn’t felt anything like it. It was like no one had ever kissed her and meant it before. When he finally pulled away, she looked up at him. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t strong or vital and controlling as it usually was. Her words weren’t calculated and meant to get her to an end. Her voice was small and hopeful, and her words were nervous. “Can we go … somewhere?”

Later that night, Max came to Becca’s door in the girls’ hall. She opened the door to see Max looking hot, and the girls along the hallway looking out of their doors.

“I thought about what you said. And you’re right.”

Was he about to ask her out? She was practically still sweating from her rendezvous with Johnny. She gave a nervous flatten of her hair, and said, “Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “So if you’ll still do it, then … we can do it.”

She felt everyone’s eyes on her. “You want to be with me, is this what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled and pulled him into her room. “Dana, do you think you could … make yourself scarce for a little while?”

Dana hurried up and out the door. Becca shut it, and the flurry of chatter outside told her that what she was about to do was exactly what she had to.