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into the library basement for a meeting.
"Oh, yeah, right," Amber says. "My brain gets enough of a workout in school. The last thing I
want to do is use it after school."
"That explains a lot," Drea says.
I glance at the iron clock in the middle of the quad. It's just after four o'clock, only twenty
minutes after the phone call in our room. "When did you get here?"
'About five minutes ago."
"Did you see anyone using the phone before you?" "No, why? What's up?"
"Nothing," I say. "I was just supposed to meet someone here. That's all."
"Really?" Chad's eyes narrow on me. 'Anyone I should know about?"
"Yeah," Drea bursts out, before I can speak. "Our little Stacey here was just waiting for someone.
Get the picture?"
"Now get out of the picture," Amber says, fake-smoking her Hello Kitty pencil.
If tearing someone's acrylic nails off, glue and all, and cramming them down her throat didn't
look so unattractive, I would probably do just that to Drea right now. She
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knows exactly what she's doing--burning away any bridge of possibility that exists between me
and Chad.
"Three's company" Drea says, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "So we need to split too,
right Amb?" Amber nods.
"I can take a hint." Chad collects his books and leaves, without even one last minuscule peek in
my direction. Drea elbows me in the ribs when he's gone. "That totally
worked. He so believed you were waiting for someone." "Great," I say.
"So now what?" Amber says. "You don't seriously think it's Chad, do you?"
"He knows something," Drea whispers.
"You don't know that." I watch him as he walks away, until his figure has blended into the sea of
matching blue blazers. The last thing I want to believe is that he has anything to do with this.
"What are you staring at?" Drea asks. "Picture will last longer."
"I thought I saw PJ," I say.
"Yeah, right," Drea says. "I don't know why you bother; Chad can be such a jerk. I'm so glad I
refused to give him my homework."
"Refused or forgot?" Amber asks. "You were kind of preoccupied this morning."
Drea ignores the question. She glances at the phone and smiles. "Let's see who Chad was really
talking to. Can you redial on a pay phone?"
"Negative," Amber says. "But we could call the operator and tell them to dial back the last
number. We can just say
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that it's an emergency and we can't remember the last digit or something."
"It'll never work," Drea says. "But let's try it."
Amber picks up the receiver, dials a zero, and waits a few seconds. "Hello? Why aren't you
picking up?" She finger- punches the zero a bunch more times before hanging up. "Oh my god,
what if this was, like, an emergency or something?"
The phone rings. We look at each other, unsure of what to do, if we should get it. Two rings.
Three. Amber's mouth quivers, as though she's about to say something, but instead she picks up
the receiver. "Hello? Yes." She covers her free ear to hear better. "What?" She lifts the receiver
from her ear, but instead of hanging it up, she passes it to Drea. "It's for you."
Drea crinkles her eyebrows, confused. She takes the phone, and Amber and I huddle in close to
listen. "Hello?" Drea says.
There's a long pause before a static-filled voice--his voice--speaks to us. "Sorry I couldn't stick
around to chat, Drea. But I'll be sure to call you later when it's more private and we can talk
about more intimate things, like your bra."
"My bra?"
"Pink. Lace trim around the cups. Size 34B."
Oh! My! God! I press my eyes shut, jar my mouth, and let a long, audible huff of air spew out
my mouth. He has my laundry.
Drea dangles the phone in between two fingers and starts to hyperventilate. I take the receiver
from her and the voice continues in my ear: "Tell your friends it isn't nice to
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eavesdrop on other people's phone calls. I don't want to talk to them, Drea. I want to talk to you. I
want to be with you. And soon, that will happen."
The phone clicks on the other end. I drop the receiver so that it dangles inches from the ground.
Amber snatches a notebook out of some freshman's hand and starts fanning Drea's face with it. -
Just breathe," Amber says. "Try and catch your breath."
"I can't do this anymore," Drea mumbles between puffs. -I can't. . . ." Her voice trails off in a
series of desperate gasps.
"I know" I take her hands and help her to sit down on the cement curbing. "I think maybe you
should go home for a week or so, until this is over."
-You should, Drea," Amber says.
Drea shakes her head and swats Amber's notebook- fanning away. "I'll be okay" she says,
regaining her breath.
'Are you sure?" I ask. -Do you want to go lie down?"
-I'm fine."
The dial tone plays from the receiver like a horrible reminder that he's still with us somehow.
"He's screwing with us," Amber says.
Drea straightens up a bit. "How did he know we were going to come here? How does he know
about my bra?"
Yikes. I didn't want to tell her about the bra or the hanky in the first place, because I didn't want
to admit about the pee-stained laundry I just wanted to put the whole incident behind me and
hope it didn't come back.
"How did he know we'd be together?" Drea looks at Amber and me for answers, as if we have
them.
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"Because he's screwing with us," Amber says. "Whoever is behind this knows all of us pretty
well. He knows that I have the pay phone numbers listed in my address book and that's why he
didn't block the call."
And he knew we'd come running out here to find him," I finish.
"I bet he can see us," Amber says, peering around the quad. "He's probably watching us right
now. Probably has a cell phone."
"Then why would he use the pay phone?" Drea asks, the color returning to her cheeks.
"To throw us off track," Amber says. "That's what I'd do." "He's always a step ahead," Drea says.
I draw up on Drea's sweater, pluck the protection bottle from her waist, and place it in her hands.
"He may be a step ahead now," I say. "But he won't be for long."
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fift-c-en
It's just past ten o'clock and Drea and I have each taken our stations in bed. Me trying to work
through a bunch of word problems for trig, Drea mapping out a Chaucer essay. I tried taking a
snooze right after dinner, but I think insomnia has kicked in. I'm hoping the word problems will
help do the trick.
It's dead quiet between us. I guess it's an understatement to say we haven't exactly been getting
along lately. But it's
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also an understatement to say we've both had our reasons to go into bitch mode. I almost wish
Amber were around to chisel through the ice wall between our beds, but she ended up studying
with PJ tonight. It's true what Drea says about the two of them--they really should go out again.
But Amber is from the school of "My parents were high school sweethearts and still make out
like crazy so I refuse to be in a relationship that isn't as perfect as theirs." I guess we all have our
hang-ups.
Personally, I don't know what I'm thinking half the time, flirting with Chad, right in front of
Drea. But sometimes I just can't help myself, can't bridle the raging hormones I feel beating
through my bones, stirring up my blood.
Sort of a shiny friend-thing to do, I know. But I also know I've been blaming my sour-grapes
routine on a serious lack of sleep, when I think it's more like a serious lack of self-confidence.
I glance up at Maura's watercolor picture of us sitting on the porch swing, playing cards. I take a
deep breath and stifle the self-pity I feel tearing up in my eyes. Maybe what I need is a good dose
of Mom. I grab the phone and call her, but unfortunately she isn't home or isn't picking up, so I
leave her a message to call me back.
"Drea," I say, flipping my trig book shut, "do you want to talk?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]