She Drives Me Crazy(34)
“Shit,” Kevin says, his eyes wide. “That was the best thing I’ve seen in years.”
“You gotta hand it to Irene,” Danielle says, shaking her head. “She knew exactly how to push Tally.”
* * *
We stay just long enough for the party to reach its peak. Tally never returns, leaving the Candlehawk girl behind. Danielle and Kevin melt into conversation with a bunch of other smart kids who won’t stop talking about college applications. Gunther, to my surprise, manages to capture Honey-Belle’s attention. They sit at the kitchen table, whispering and laughing at each other, so oblivious to everything around them that Gunther doesn’t flinch when someone spills beer on his shoulder. If Honey-Belle can smell the garlic on Gunther’s breath, she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Pretty diabolical plan,” I tell Irene when I find her in the hallway.
She shrugs. “I can be evil when I want to be.”
“And here I thought you had no control over it.”
“Ha ha.”
“So we’ve slain one beast tonight. Where’s the other?”
Irene scans the vicinity, searching for Charlotte. “I don’t know. I keep waiting for her to strike.”
“Maybe she doesn’t care that you’re here. She’s too busy hosting.”
“Believe me, she cares. She’s probably plotting with her soccer henchmen.”
“Henchwomen.”
“Henchpeople.”
I shrug and gulp down the beer in my hand. I feel much more relaxed now that Tally is out of sight. “Whatever. I think you’re being paranoid,” I say, bumping her with my shoulder. My skin tingles, but I ignore it.
“You’re being arrogant. You don’t know Charlotte like I do.”
Unfortunately, Irene proves to be right. It’s only a few minutes later that the music cuts off and the party splits into silence again.
Charlotte Pascal, with her gorgeous auburn locks and shrewd green eyes, climbs atop a chair. Her boyfriend gives her a hand up, even though she doesn’t need it. He looks pompous and bored.
“Hel-lo, everyone,” Charlotte says in her usual affected tone. “Thanks so much for coming over tonight. People from Candlehawk, thank you for making the drive.” She pauses. “And everyone else, please remember to vote for me for Student Athlete of the Year.”
“Oh god,” Irene mutters under her breath.
“Speaking of SAOY…” Charlotte’s expression turns malicious. “I know we have at least one other candidate here tonight: the newly gay Irene Abraham.”
Heads swivel in our direction. A trickle of nervous laughter runs around the room. Most people here are too chickenshit to challenge Irene’s social position, but they obviously don’t mind another popular girl doing it. The expressions on their faces are thirsty. The Cleveland triplets actually stand on their tiptoes to get a better look.
Irene stiffens and leans the slightest bit into me. Her elbow brushes mine. I lean my weight toward her without thinking about it.
“I’m so very happy for anyone who finds their truth,” Charlotte drawls on. “It’s so important to celebrate diversity in this day and age. But I also think that truth should be authentic, and I’m a little concerned that Irene Abraham is anything but.”
My blood simmers. Across the room, Danielle catches my eye. I can tell we’re on the same page about this: We can shit-talk Irene all we want, but at this point, no one else can.
Charlotte gestures elaborately at the TV in the center of the room. Her Candlehawk boyfriend has connected his laptop to it, and at a signal from Charlotte, he pops a video onto the screen. At first it’s just a still frame: Irene, dark hair and hazy eyes, smirking at the camera.
He presses PLAY.
Charlotte’s voice blares from behind the camera. “You are sooo drunk! Admit it. You’re drunk.”
“Am not,” Irene says on screen, but she’s slurring. She’s not looking at the camera; I can’t tell whether she knew she was being filmed. Charlotte laughs hysterically off-screen. The video must be at least a year old, before their friendship blew up.
“You were totally hitting on me earlier,” Charlotte says. “You get so gay when you’re wasted.”
“Whaaat? Don’t be weird, Char. I’m not gay.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” Charlotte’s voice replies. But the way she says it makes my skin crawl; it’s almost like she’s baiting Irene.
“I know that,” video-Irene slurs. “I just happen to be straight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Half the people at school are only ‘gay’ because they think it makes them more interesting. They’re so desperate. It’s embarrassing.”
“So you’d never hook up with a girl?”
Video-Irene snorts. She rubs a hand down her face. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t. But you know it wouldn’t mean anything to me.”
The video ends. Candlehawk Boyfriend unplugs his computer and smirks at Charlotte. There’s a ringing silence as everyone turns in our direction. I’ve never felt so exposed, and the video wasn’t even about me.
The real Irene is stock-still next to me. Her cheeks are flushed with dark patches. I wait for her to recover and deliver her usual acidic retort, but for the first time since I’ve known her, she’s mute. On impulse, I grab her hand and tug her away, through the hallway and outside to the sharp, cold air.