Lessons from a Dead Girl(28)

She smiles from behind me at our reflection in the mirror, and I try to smile back.

She’s taller and seems much older than me. Her hair is longer, too, and her face is more defined. She’s even more beautiful. She really could be a model.

I put my hands on the counter to steady myself, feeling even uglier than before. The way I’ve always felt when I’m with Leah.

“It’s nice to see you, Lainey,” she says. “What’s it been, like, a year?”

She moves to the sink next to me and washes her hands. Her deep-red fingernails match her lips. I try to get a look at her wrists, to see if the rumors were true, but she keeps her hands palm-down somehow, and I can’t get a good look.

When she straightens, she checks me out.

“You’re a little pale, Lainey,” she says in a suspicious way. “What have you been up to?”

I roll my eyes and try to look cool. She knows the answer.

“Excuse us,” some girls say, annoyed that we’re hogging the mirror. Leah steps behind me again and frees up a sink. My heart beats hard against my chest. My head is throbbing.

“You look good, Laine,” she lies.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. She has dark eyeliner on with glitter eye shadow. Her red lips are covered with a shiny gloss. She looks way too old and sophisticated to be at a bar on teen night.

“Uh, thanks,” I say. “You look good, too.”

We both know good isn’t the right word to describe either one of us. She is beautiful. And I am not.

She’s standing so close, I feel her breath on the back of my neck. I wore my hair up in an attempt to look more feminine, but with Leah behind me with her perfect curvy body, I feel anything but. Just like old times.

The other girls leave, rolling their eyes at us. Some new ones squish in. I just want to get out of here, but Leah’s blocking my way. I pretend to tuck a wisp of hair back into place as if there is really anything to do in front of the mirror besides loathe my appearance.

“It’s nice to see you out, Laine,” Leah says. She flicks her hair back over her shoulders. “Are you here with friends?”

“Just one. My friend Web.”

She raises her eyebrows, but before she can make a comment, I ask her who she’s with.

“My boyfriend,” she says. She rolls her eyes when she says it. “Speaking of which, I better get going. He freaks out when I’m gone too long.”

I think of my dream and the faceless man driving her away. Her blood on the window. I don’t let myself look at her wrists again.

The sink next to us opens, and she steps in, leaning close to the mirror to put on another layer of shiny red lip gloss.

“OK, well, it was great to see you again,” I lie, stepping away from the sink while I have a chance.

“Hang on,” she says. “I’m coming, too.”

Before we get to the door, she takes my arm to stop me. I try to shrink away from her, to swivel around her, but she leans in close and squeezes my arm harder. I smell her cherry lip gloss mixed with some kind of alcohol.

I turn my head away. Our faces are so close, I swear she could kiss me. As I turn, her wet lips brush against my ear and she whispers into it.

“Remember when we used to mess around, Lainey?”

I push away from her, afraid someone has heard.

“What are you talking about?” I glare at her and rub the gloss off my ear, regretting all the months I’ve felt sorry for her, worried about her. God, she hasn’t changed at all.

“You remember,” she whispers.

“I have to go,” I say.

She follows me out to the dark hallway.

I turn and face her. My head is pounding, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “What do you want?” I almost hiss.

“I know it bothers you, Lainey, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

I glance toward the men’s room. “I need to find Web,” I say.

“Just wait, Laine, OK?” She reaches for my shoulder, but I shrug her hand away.

“I’m sorry, Lainey. I was just messing with you.”

Just messing with me. Just messing around. Just messing up my entire life.

She sighs dramatically as she steps closer to me. “God, Laine, you’re so uptight. You have to get over it. We were just kids. We were just experimenting. Everyone does it.”

Then why do you torment me about it?

I wish I dared to say the words out loud.

Her face softens. “Hey, truce, OK?” She reaches for my shoulder again, but I step back.

“Come on, Lainey. It’s just a joke. Look. I’m glad I ran into you. My mom told me she brought back that stupid doll a while ago. I tried to tell her you wouldn’t want it, but she kept insisting Sam had given it to you, not me. I was going to call you after, but I forgot.”

She fidgets with the strap of her top. “You remember that doll, right?”


“Yeah,” I say, remembering how I threw it into the closet. “I was surprised when your mom showed up with it.”

I don’t know how we’re suddenly having this casual conversation after what just happened. All I want to do is get away from her. But I stay.

Leah rubs her wrists and looks down the hall toward the dance floor, like she’s looking for someone. “Fucking Sam, that prick,” she says.