Lost Girls(36)

I shrugged. I didn’t feel like talking about it.

“It isn’t Dylan, is it?”

I winced. Was it that obvious?

She grinned. “You don’t think he’s going to stand you up tonight, do you?”

“He must be sick today,” I said, wishing she would shut up. The other girls at the table were starting to look at us and the last thing I needed was for my Big Date Fail to become the topic of school gossip.

“If he asked you out, he totally meant it,” Lauren continued. “Brett’s having a party tonight—his parents are in Aspen for the weekend—and he’s Dylan’s best friend, so that’s probably why he’s not here.”

I frowned. She wasn’t making any sense. I picked up my tray and stood up, ready to leave the cafeteria. There had to be someplace better than this to spend the rest of my lunch hour, someplace where a pack of girls weren’t watching my every move. Lauren grabbed my wrist and started talking even faster.

“He’s gotta be setting up the music for the party. He always does that. We pitch in and pay for it, even though he’d do it for free. But it’s like a part-time job. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I knew it. Before.”

She grabbed my phone and started thumbing something, her fingers moving fast.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m sending him a text—”

“You’re what?”

“No worries, girl. He just needs to know you’re concerned.”

“I already texted him this morning and he didn’t answer,” I said as I grabbed the phone away from her. “I don’t want him to think I’m one of those girls.” I fumbled for words. “You know, the kind who are insecure and weird and sit around, waiting for some boy to call.”

She gave me a look somewhere between pure innocence and admiration. And yeah, she was kind of giving me the creeps. Like this was some new form of idol worship, but I’d never done anything to deserve it. All I’d done was treat her like crap for ten minutes yesterday and ever since then, she’d been trying to make herself invaluable.

“He’d never think you were like that. Not in a million years. Not ever.” She leaned closer so none of the guys would hear. “But if he did, there are a lot of other guys out there who are dying to get with you.”

I was beginning to wonder if Lauren was really stupid, if maybe she’d been fooling all of us for years. I was trying to figure out how she got straight As, since her reasoning abilities had been seriously impaired, when my phone buzzed.

I had a text.

My upper lip prickled and the back of my neck turned hot.

“Might want to read that,” Lauren said, a grin spreading across her too pretty face.

I stood up and walked away from the others, my right hand holding my cell phone. Back turned, I glanced down at the tiny screen, at the backlit letters that appeared.

We’re still on for tonight, aren’t we?

It was from Dylan and it had that same slightly panicked tone as when he first asked me out, when I had paused and fear had flickered in his eyes as if I might say no.

Of course, I thumbed back, pretending like there had never been any doubt, although until now, doubt was all I had.

Pick you up at seven?

Sure. But, be prepared to come in and say hi to my parents.

There was a long silence, maybe him whispering, shit, and looking for a way to back out. But my parents had made it crystal clear this morning—if I was going out, they were meeting the boy. End of my teenage dating story.

Can’t wait. Should I bring white or red wine?

I laughed, then replied. Both?

K. C U. Gotta go.

I flipped my phone off. When I glanced back at the table, all the girls—Lauren, Stephanie and Zoe—were staring at me, as if something really important had just happened. I lifted my hands, palms up. “What?” I asked.

Lauren grinned. “Told you,” she said. Then she and the other girls got into a long discussion about what to wear to Brett’s party, all of them making tentative suggestions from time to time about what I should wear, too. Even though, as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t certain that I was even going to the party.

“That black and white T-shirt with the sequins and glitter,” Zoe said.

“Your jean jacket. Definitely.” Stephanie nodded, flipping her long, glossy brown hair over her shoulder.

“Black leggings and a miniskirt,” Lauren added.

“And those silver ballet slippers—”

Everything they were talking about sounded like stuff to wear to a rave, not a party. I just quietly nodded, wondering about the jacket and planning my own outfit while they continued to chatter away like a flock of birds fighting over breadcrumbs.





Chapter Twenty-One


My mouth dry, I paced back and forth, rummaging through my closet and throwing clothes on the bed. Seven o’clock drew nearer and nearer. I’d already weighed myself three times—one hundred and twenty-one pounds. Crap, somehow I’d gained two pounds today! Dad had watched me while I ate dinner like he was my commanding officer and I was a lowly private, so I didn’t have a choice. I had to eat.

Once dinner was finished and the family room had filled with a handful of Kyle’s video game buddies, I’d gone upstairs to get ready for my date. So far, I’d changed my clothes four times, buttoning and unbuttoning shirts, zipping and unzipping skirts and jeans until a pile of clothes spread across my bed. Shoes littered the floor and my room looked like a messy Goth boutique. The only thing I had on was a pair of black leggings and my makeup. Unfortunately, the leggings were the only thing I was certain about. I tugged a white minidress over my head, something Mom had bought me this week. It was really cute, but was it right for riding a motorcycle? Everything needed to be perfect, although my version of perfect seemed to change depending on my memories.