Lost Girls(40)
That was all I could think about.
Dylan. Hurt.
I wasn’t going to lose another person I cared about.
The crowd opened up, most of them boys, the air testosterone-charged, as if lightning flowed from one pair of biceps to another, all the guys flexing their muscles as if they were the ones fighting.
I saw the two of them then, best friends in a thickly muscled heap on the balcony floor, Dylan on top, arms and legs wrapped around Brett, pinning him down, Brett with a bloody nose and unable to break free.
“Okay,” Brett muttered, each syllable coming out with difficulty, as if he really needed to breathe more than he needed to speak. “I give.”
“You’ll get rid of the drugs?” Dylan demanded, his voice loud enough to carry through the party and beyond, words echoing down toward that black canyon below, the abyss that would have loved to claim every single one of us, that would have wanted all of us to disappear. Just like I had.
“Yeah.”
“You know what’ll happen if you don’t?” Dylan asked, his voice ominous.
“Yeah, I said I’d do it. Let me up, okay?”
Dylan released him slowly. All the while, I watched, astonished. I’d never thought Dylan could take Brett down. I didn’t think anyone could take that guy down. But it was obvious Brett had been beaten; there was a difference in his countenance when he pulled himself up and began to move through the throng of party-goers. There was an unspoken hierarchy here. Brett had challenged it and Dylan had put him back in his place.
Dylan was the alpha.
...
The party temporarily took a somber turn, the dancing stopped, the music sounded muted and far away, no one drank or laughed. Brett marched like an errant schoolchild throughout the house, moving from one room to the next, gathering up three different Skittles bowls, each filled with a variety of colored prescription drugs, some with names stamped on the side. Xanax, Valium, Vicodin, Percocet, Viagra. Mixed in with familiar drugs that populated our medicine cabinets were candy-colored mysteries that could have been tabs of acid, Ecstasy, GHB, Special K or Meth. I shivered as I thought about the highs and lows that could come from mixing handfuls of that stuff.
But while Brett disposed of the drugs and Dylan watched over him with arms crossed, I noticed how kids—especially boys—from other schools stared at me. I guess I’d been pretty low-key until I forced my way through the crowd, knocking several boys to their knees, boys who were still having trouble getting up.
They were whispering to each other.
Lauren, Stephanie, and Zoe stood at my side, scowls on their faces.
The boys were saying things like—
She’s the one who went missing—
I’ve heard about her—
She’s even hotter in person—
I frowned. What was hot about a girl who’d been kidnapped? Heat gathered in my chest as I glared at the nearest boy, the one who had just let a loud whisper escape, not realizing that I would hear it.
“You think it’s hot to go missing?” I asked, stepping nearer, my gaze focused on him like he was prey. Beneath my skin, the need to do something burned, but this guy wasn’t worth it. Still, I grabbed his collar and twisted, pinching his throat.
The silence around us grew even louder. I realized that no one was watching Dylan or Brett anymore. I’d stolen the show.
It was like they were all waiting for me to do something.
I just wasn’t sure what.
“Jerks,” I said, dropping the guy’s shirt like it was on fire. Then I joined the girls, all of us gathering on the far side of the living room. Dylan had paused, just long enough to make sure everything was okay, his pale gray eyes studying me, then flicking briefly to the guy. Dylan gave a small nod as his gaze moved through the room, focusing on each and every guy.
He was telling everyone that he had my back.
That strange, bizarre thrill flowed through me again when our eyes met, just like it had when I’d first seen him with the bruise on his cheek. It was hot and steamy, and I found myself smoldering as I watched him leave the room, continuing his hunt for drugs spread throughout the house.
Once he was out of the room, Lauren lifted her chin toward the guys who still shot admiring glances in my direction. “Didn’t I tell you there were lots of boys who’d give just about anything to be with you? Take a look at your fan club, girl.”
Puzzled, I swept another gaze across the room. She was right. I hadn’t deterred these guys, not one bit. If anything, I’d made them more interested.
“What the heck? What’s wrong with this crowd tonight?” I asked.
“All in good time, Rach, all in good time,” Lauren said, again acting like she enjoyed her role as Keeper of the Secrets. “Meanwhile, since the ‘overlords’ are busy, what do you say us girls rev up our engines?” She gestured toward one of the sofas, chasing a small cluster of Misfits away with a grimace. The four of us sat in a row, the other girls with gleaming eyes, me a confused onlooker. She opened her Kate Spade purse, pulled out a small, black leather case, then held a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone I brought this, K? It’s just, what’re we supposed do now that the boys have taken away all the fun stuff?”
She flicked the black case open, revealing four pristine syringes filled with a pale pink liquid. She rolled up her sleeve, exposing a row of track marks, and before I could react, she plunged the first needle into her arm, her head sinking back, her eyes closing, a slow grin spreading over her face.