Lessons from a Dead Girl(26)

“It’s your whole life,” she said. “Friends forever is friends always. No matter what.”


I didn’t know what she really meant. Maybe she didn’t, either. Maybe she meant that some friends stay with you even after they’re gone, haunting you forever.





Two weeks before school starts, Jess IMs to say she’s back and asks me to go with her to Web’s for a reunion.

Web’s house is gigantic, like the Greenes’. He rushes out the front door and wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the cheek. “Hey, girlfriend,” he says.

His arms feel good, holding me tight. He looks surprisingly pale, compared to Malibu-tan Jess.

“Me, too,” Jess says, joining our hug.

Their arms pull me against them, and I don’t know where to put my face. It ends up smooshed against Web’s neck. He smells like expensive soap.

“I have a present for you guys,” he says, breaking away.

We follow him inside. He gets his backpack from a large hall closet and puts it on the floor, then pulls a bottle of Kahlúa out of it. He smiles, flashing us his freshly white-stripped teeth. “Got milk?” he asks, grinning.

“It’s your house,” Jess says. “Do you?”

He rolls his eyes at her and carries the bottle and his backpack down a long hallway. Jess follows, skipping behind him like a little kid.

“Where are your parents?” she asks as she follows.

“Away,” he says over his shoulder.

I walk behind them, loving how normal it seems to them that I’m here, too.

We take a gallon of milk and three plastic cocktail glasses filled with ice into Web’s bedroom and shut the door. We sit cross-legged on Web’s bed in a sort of circle.

Web makes the drinks. We forgot a spoon, so he cups his hand over the top of his glass after he’s poured the ingredients in and shakes. He licks his palm when he’s done and smiles at us. “Who’s first?” he asks.

Jess trades her empty cup for the full one. Then Web makes two more.

“Cheers!” Jess says.

We click cups and drink. It’s cold and thick and sweet. The liquid gently burns in my chest.

Web and Jess pretend to be at a cocktail party, sticking out their pinkies as they drink, so I do it, too.

As I sit on the bed with them, I feel like I’m inside myself. Like I’m this miniature me standing inside my head, looking out through my eyes as if they’re windows. I want to tap on the glass. To shout. But I’m trapped inside. It feels like something else is controlling me, making my arms move, my mouth swallow.

Don’t screw this up, I tell the outside me.

I take another long drink.

Web turns on his stereo. We sit and drink and smile and drink.

“It’s so good to be back together,” Web says.

“Did you miss me?” Jess asks.

“Of course,” Web says. “I missed both of you. Did you miss me?”

“Of course!” Jess says, leaning up against him.

“Of course,” I say, mimicking Jess.

I tip my glass back and finish it off. I feel dizzy and deliciously happy. I lick the sweet off my lips.

Web and Jess lean back against the headboard. I slide over next to Web so I can lean against it, too. We stretch our legs out in front of us. Web starts to make his feet move to the music. Jess and I copy him. Our feet look like six little dancers moving in sync. We don’t say much. I vaguely remember Web getting us more drinks and the room feeling hazy.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up in a bed with a wastebasket next to my head and the taste of throw-up in my mouth. Something warm leans against my back. It’s dark in the room. I don’t know where I am at first, but I recognize Web’s bedspread. The warm thing against me moves and makes a grumbling noise.

“Oh, God.” I sit up. My heart and head throb in unison. I’ve never felt this ill in my life. I try to check my watch, but it’s too dark to see. I scan the room for Web’s digital clock. The orange numbers read 9:15.

Web’s hand touches my shoulder and gently pulls me back down beside him.

He rubs my back softly in tiny little circles, sending shivers down my belly and between my legs. I know the feeling, but it is so much better this time, without the fear. Or shame. I will him to roll me over and kiss me, even if my head is splitting.

Look at me now, Leah, I think automatically, happily.

“Are you OK?” Web asks softly.

I nod, trying to replay the night and figure out how we ended up in this bed together. I still have all my clothes on, but I hope something happened. Anything. I love the way Web smiles. The way he looks at me. The way he pays attention to me. Being next to him now seems almost too good to be true.

Web’s fingers travel up and down my back.

Don’t let him be another Jeffrey Scotto, I tell myself. I hear Leah’s voice, If he really liked you, he would have held your hand.

“That feels so good,” I say, breaking the silence. Keep doing it.

The fingers move in circles.

“You feeling OK?” Web asks softly.

“Mmm-hmm,” I say, ignoring my pounding head. I want so badly to roll over and kiss him, but I can only imagine what my breath must smell like if I was sick.

His hand moves to my head, and he gently brushes my hair away from the side of my face. I will him to put his hand on my shoulder and roll me over to face him.