Emergency Contact(58)

It was odd seeing people out of context. Like running into your priest at the 7-Eleven or catching Dr. Greene outside of Jude’s Skype window. Seeing your classmate in his “going out” shirt in the middle of the night felt like a glitch in the Matrix. He was with another dude. Shorter, brown-haired—with a face like a weak handshake—he wore white jeans and mirrored sunglasses. Sam would have had a field day.

“Uh, hey,” she said.

Andy leaned in, took her forearms, and air-kissed both of her cheeks. To Penny, who didn’t know what was happening, the first kiss was scandalizing, the second completely mortifying.

He smelled of laundry detergent, chewing gum, and boy deodorant.

“This is Penelope,” he shouted to his friend. “She goes to UT as well.

“This is Pete. He’s kind of a twat.” He whispered the last part so close to her ear Penny withdrew reflexively.

“Lovely to meet you,” said Pete, checking her out in a way that was less about appreciating her outfit and more about being caught eyeing her. Blargh. Penny wished she were wearing a hoodie. “Shall I get us another round?” asked Pete.

“Fantastic idea,” said Andy. “Grab me a beer. Penny, what are you having?”

“Champagne.”

“Prosecco likely,” remarked Pete. Penny could tell he was making fun of her, though she couldn’t tell exactly how.

“So,” said Andy. Penny delighted in how Andy’s Asian cheeks were as ruddy as hers from the booze.

“I have a question.” He cleared his throat.

Penny nodded.

“Do you know where the hell we are?” he asked. “Pete, who again, for the record, is a terrible person, dragged me here.”

Penny smiled. “No idea!” she yelled into his ear. “A girl who possibly hates me brought me.”

“Perhaps as punishment,” he noted.

“Perhaps,” she echoed, and found herself giggling.

“Do you need to get back to her?” he asked. Penny noticed how twinkly his eyes were.

“How about I wait for your obnoxious friend to bring us drinks.” Penny wasn’t sure she should keep drinking except that she preferred it to idly waiting for Jude or Mallory to return from making out with their dudes.

Andy surveyed the room. “Clearly we need better friends; this place is hideous.”

“It’s possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she agreed.

He shook his head, dimples deepening. “This whole night has been insane,” he said.

“Penny! There you are.” Jude grabbed her shoulder and handed her another red cup, splashing some onto her hand. “Where have you beeeen?”

Jude hung on to the last word long enough that Penny knew she was drunk or high. Or at least solidly on her way to both.

“Heeeeeeeey,” she said to Andy.

“Heeeeeeeey,” he responded, subtly nudging Penny with his elbow.

“Jude, this is . . .”

“Andy,” he said, shaking Jude’s hand. Jude’s gaze lingered over him.

“He’s a dear, dear friend,” Penny finished. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Fun,” said Jude, widening her eyes approvingly.

She was right. Penny was surprised to realize, she was kind of, maybe, actually having fun.

? ? ?

When Penny opened her eyes the next morning her mouth tasted of wet wool socks that had stewed in a car for a month.

Kill me now.

Jude snored lightly.

Penny was dressed in last night’s outfit with the addition of half a quesadilla, perched jauntily on her chest like a cheese-filled piece of statement jewelry. She had zero recollection of stopping for something to eat. As for how she got home, that remained mysterious as well. Penny sat up, head pounding, laid the old food gently on her nightstand, and picked up her phone.

Six a.m.

1 NEW MESSAGE

Today 2:57 AM

Hi


It was Andy. Penny recalled giggling uncontrollably attempting to punch her number into his phone. In the end he’d had to commandeer the operation, and with their combined efforts and numerous opportunities to brush fingers, they’d managed to eke out the dispatch.

Penny’s first class wasn’t until eleven, not that it mattered. She stumbled to the bathroom, scrubbed the furry taste out of her mouth, and scraped the makeup off her face.

Her reflection was pale. Puffy too. Dark hair hung limply by her face. Her pores were enlarged, resembling thirsty little mouths.

“Pretty,” she croaked.

She shimmied out of her constricting bra that had crept up her left boob, and a card fell out onto the tile with a prim thwack. She picked it up. It was the party photographer’s business card. It said nothing more than “stooooooooooooooooooop.com.” Penny counted the number of O’s and plugged the URL into her phone. Under last night’s date was a gallery of pretty partygoers, and while Penny had been there and recognized some of the faces and outfits, scrolling through felt somehow voyeuristic. Everyone was so glamorous. Then she found her and Jude.

It was like looking at a mannequin version of herself.

Uncanny Valley . . .

Used in reference to the phenomenon whereby a computer-generated figure or humanoid bearing a near-identical resemblance to a human being arouses a sense of unease or revulsion in the person viewing it.