Lessons from a Dead Girl(32)

“’Night, guys,” Jess says from the other side of the bed.

Web is already snoring softly.

“Good night,” I whisper. I close my eyes, letting my hot tears slip down my jaw.

A few weeks later, Web has another, even bigger party. Web’s house is the perfect place to have parties because his parents are never home. Most weekends they go to their place on the Vineyard. And in November they’ll go to Florida and only come back north for Thanksgiving and Christmas reunions with Web. Other than that, they think the house is unoccupied, with their perfect son at boarding school making them proud. Ha.

I’ve been drinking steadily for about an hour before I find my way to the bathroom in the master bedroom. Jess and I have put an “out of order” sign on the door so people will think it’s broken and we’ll never have to wait in line.

When I’m done, I open the door and step into Web’s parents’ bedroom. Someone has turned off the lights. I don’t think anything of it, but as I step into the dark, I feel a hand grab my wrist. At the same time someone whispers “Shhh” in my ear.

My heart races.

“Nice party, Lainey,” she says.

“Shit! God, Leah. You scared me.”

She sucks in her breath. “Nice to see you, too.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask. My heart pounds in my chest the way it does whenever I’m scared. The way it does when I’m with Leah.

“I followed you.”

I don’t tell her that’s not what I meant. I would have thought she’d consider herself too cool for partying with people her own age.

“Sorry I scared you,” she says. She walks over to a side table and clicks on a reading lamp, then sits on the bed. The low light casts a dark glow over her skin. She has on a silk tank top and definitely no bra. She pats the space next to her for me to sit down.

I stay standing, still recovering from the shock of seeing her again.

“I won’t bite,” she says. She shifts on the bed. She’s wearing a sheer skirt that shows the shape of her perfect thighs through it. I look down at my loose jeans.

I try to act casual when I walk over to her and sit down.

“So, how’ve you been, Lainey?”

“I’ve been fine,” I say, matching her fake cheerfulness. “How about you?”

She smiles and pushes her blond hair away from her face with the back of her hand. I catch a quick glimpse of her wrist but don’t see a scar. Maybe she only tried to slit one wrist. Maybe it’s the other one.

“I’m fine, too,” she says.

“How’s Brooke?”

“Great. Never been better. She’s fulfilling her dream of becoming a court stenographer.”

“Yeah, your mom told me about that. That’s cool.” I relax a little, relieved the conversation isn’t about me. Or us.

“Whatever.” She starts to play with her silver thumb ring.

I wait for her to ask me how Christi is, but she doesn’t.

“So, is this your thing now, Lainey? These parties every weekend?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I say.

“Hmm. Well, I’m glad you have friends,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or sincere. Her voice sounds quiet now. Sad.

I try to read her feelings, but her face seems vacant. She’s wearing glittery blue-tint eye shadow with liner that makes her eyes look happy, even though it’s obvious she isn’t. She still looks beautiful underneath it all, but it’s not the beauty she used to have. She seems empty.

When our eyes meet, she half smiles at me.

“Did you come here with friends?” I ask.

She looks away from me and pushes her hair behind her ears again. “Nah,” she says quietly. “My boyfriend.”


She pulls her skirt down tight against her thighs. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was nervous. But Leah doesn’t get nervous. Not around me.

“Where is he?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Trying to score something, most likely. What about you, Lainey? You have a boyfriend yet?” She slides closer to me. “Or do you still prefer girls?”

I’m not going to let her do this again.

I stand up and get ready to walk away, but then I turn around. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I prefer guys, Leah. Guys. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Why would that disappoint me?”

“You know why.”

“I have an idea,” she says. She stands and walks over to me, blocking the space between me and the door. “Why don’t you prove it to me?” She takes my hand. “Kiss me right now and see if you feel anything. Prove to me that you only like guys.”

I pull my hand away. “I don’t have to prove anything. I already know.”

“No, you don’t,” she whispers.

“Yes, I do,” I say back.

I walk around her to the door and flick on the overhead light in the room. Leah squints at me in the bright light.

“Why do you always do this?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“You know what. You act all nice, and then you get weird and nasty.”

“Nasty? Oh, come on. I’m only goofing on you, Laine. God, you’re so sensitive.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Why is it so important to you to like guys, anyway? Guys are losers. There’s nothing wrong with liking girls, ya know.”