New Girl Part 8

"To the party tonight."

No. No. Say no. "Sure."

"Great! Any time after eleven." She gave a small smile and then walked back out of the hall.

I set off for the library a moment later, and as I walked, my mind reeled as I thought about the missing girl. No one knew what had happened to her, and yet this time last year she'd been walking the same halls as me. It had been her first year, too. Had everyone been as chilly toward her? Probably not. She was probably why they were like that toward me. They all hated me for coming along.

I was like the new baby sibling that everyone resented.

The study room was empty when I arrived. The lights were off, and I had to feel around the walls until I found a switch. But rather than turning on a fluorescent overhead as I'd expected, it turned on a floor lamp in each corner of the room. They illuminated a smallish, cozy room paneled in dark wood, with comfy-looking armchairs and couches filling the place. Along one wall, there were desks with those old-fas.h.i.+oned green bankers' lights with the gold, beaded pull string. Right in the middle was a huge ornate mantel, with a modern electric fireplace. I flicked on a light switch and fire burst into life.

This, I supposed, was the charm of Northern states and cold places. It was a different type of charm and warmth than I was used to, but as I read for the next few hours with the fire warming my bare feet and I drank my hot chocolate, I could see that this wasn't bad, either.

I fell asleep and into another strange dream, as I had on my first night.

I was standing on the beach again. Someone was yelling at me. It was a male voice. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't let myself. I felt determined and strong, but sick and weak all at once. Everything was blurry, as if I was looking through the water of a chlorine pool.

My chest stung and my head pounded. I wanted to hit him, whoever he was. I wanted to scream back at him. But no...I didn't need to. He was wrong. He'd see. I wasn't like he thought I was. I could be better. I would be from now on....

CHAPTER SEVEN.

I AWOKE WITH A START AND LOOKED AROUND, disoriented.

I had no way of knowing what time it was. In a world where cell phones were barely allowed, you'd think there would be a clock on every wall. But there wasn't. I put the fire out, turned off the lights and ran to my room. It was eleven forty-five. Just in time for bed, and I was fully awake.

I remembered Blake's invitation. I wasn't sure if I had the nerve to go down alone.

I got that b.u.t.terfly flutter in my stomach as I wondered if Max was there. I ignored the thought. Of all ways to start off at Manderley, developing a crush on the most unavailable guy there was probably not the best.

The flutter turned to a shudder as I went down to the beach.

The breeze coming off the ocean felt good. Refres.h.i.+ng. A little bit like home, only way colder than usual. The air, in only these few days, had dropped a few degrees. But at least today it hadn't rained.

I clutched the fabric of my new peacoat closer to me and walked to the boathouse. I measured my breath carefully, loosened my grip on the book I still had in my hand and opened the door. I could tell immediately that the mood here was better than at the last party. Not so somber. I was met with a few astonished faces, and an immediate approach from my across-the-hall neighbors.

"You came! Finally!" Madison said, her smile big.

"I did." I smiled, too. "I'm sorry I'm here so late."

Julia hooked her arm with mine, as if we were best friends. "It's no problem."

I could smell that she'd already been drinking, and I could see by looking at and hearing everyone else that they had been, too. She dragged me across the musty room.

"Take a shot of this," she said, holding up a blue bottle. "It is whipped-cream-flavored vodka and it is so good."

I let her pour it into a shot gla.s.s and tried not to mentally relive the experience of the last time I'd had straight liquor. No one I hung out with back home really drank because we were always driving places, and didn't want to bother with the expense anyways. Sometimes at parties if someone else was driving I'd have a drink or two if Leah was, but not usually. One time, we were at my friend Lucy's aunt's house on Vilano Beach. I had about seven margaritas, made for me by someone else. That night I learned what it felt like to not care about how intimately close I was becoming with a toilet, and what it feels like to wake up with the imprint of a bathmat on my cheek. Bad. That's what it feels like. Freaking. Bad.

Especially when it doesn't go away for the next forty-eight hours. The sickness or the imprint.

"How do you get this stuff in here, anyway?" I asked, warily postponing the shot.

"Take it!" Madison said, and the two of them clinked their gla.s.ses with mine, slos.h.i.+ng the slightly syrupy liquid onto my hand.

Three, two, one. And with the burning, numbing yuck came the memories and the churning stomach. They laughed at my facial expression, and I indicated that Madison should hand me a can of Sprite. My head spun instantly, and the deep ba.s.s of whatever heavy ba.s.s song was playing vibrated right through me.

"Whoo," I said, after a few sips of the soda. "It's been a while."

"Let's do it again!" Madison said, and poured another.

"No, really, I had a terrible hangover once-"

Julia put a hand on my shoulder. "Look. I drink all the time. I'm not gonna let you get a hangover. Cuz we're friends, right?"

I mean, that might be a slight exaggeration.... "I believe you," I said, "I just-"

Before I could object, they refilled my gla.s.s. I hesitated before taking it with them, and decided that one more shot couldn't hurt. And clearly this was the way to get in with these girls.

I downed some more Sprite and took a deep breath.

"So," said Julia, inching a little closer to me. "So. Who do you like?"

"Who do I what?"

"Like! I mean, so far do you think anyone is hot?"

I tried not to think of Max Holloway. "I don't really know anyone yet."

"You don't need to know them." Madison looked at me like this was obvious.

I felt under pressure, trying to think of someone, anyone besides Max to say. But I couldn't. "Really, I don't even know anyone's name."

"Just look around and point at someone!" Julia said, a little louder.

They were clearly not letting this go. I looked around for someone to point to, and landed my gaze on Johnny. He was smiling at some girl with strawberry-blond hair. I thought of what Blake had said earlier.

"Johnny?" Madison asked.

The girls exchanged a meaningful look.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean him, I was just looking at him. I didn't mean him-"

"Let's go back outside." Julia pointed toward the door.

Madison grabbed me and the next thing I knew, we were outside and walking away from the house. My flip-flops slapped cold p.r.i.c.ks of sand into my calves.

"What?" I was sure my face was red, and was glad we were in such shrouding darkness.

Julia looked as if she was trying to say something tactfully. "That's Johnny Parker."

"Like I said, I didn't even know him or anything. I didn't say anything about thinking he was cute."

"Well, do you?"

This is the kind of question that girls ask each other, with the one intention of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the other over by her answer. So I just said, "I have no opinion on him, because I don't know him."

"There are only two guys here who are off-limits," said Julia. "One is Johnny Parker-"

She followed my gaze as it s.h.i.+fted over her shoulder. Max had just loped down the steps. Madison said, "Shh..."

"How many cats did you say your mom has? Ten? That's like so many." Julia's voice was loud and fake. My face grew hot.

Max looked at us as he walked by, and then went through the boathouse door without a word.

"I don't have any cats, why did you say that?" I asked.

"Why do you care? Oh, no, you like him, don't you?"

"What? Like him-no!"

They clearly wanted to back me into the b.i.t.c.h Corner. They exchanged another look.

I looked at each of them, my heart skipping a little at being so accurately pinned. "I don't know either of them."

"But do you think you might like Max?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because." Julia looked helplessly at me, and then to Madison.

Madison gave me a pitying look. "Because you really shouldn't. He's not going to like you back." She rested a hand on my shoulder. "Not because there's anything wrong with you...just..."

"He's in love with Becca. Like crazy in love."

I shook my head, and smiled. "No, no I don't like him. Don't worry about it."

"Good." Madison looked relieved. "We just don't want you to get hurt. And when she comes back..."

"If she comes back." Julia looked morosely down at her feet.

"Right. If...if and when she comes back, you just wouldn't want to..."

"No, really," I said, my voice unnaturally high, "it's fine! Let's go back inside."

We did, the two others drifted off, and I found myself surprised to learn that Dana was not in our room back up at the school. She was here. And by the looks of it, she was wasted. When I pa.s.sed her she didn't notice me.

Johnny was at the makes.h.i.+ft bar, pouring himself a shot of Captain Morgan.

I stood next to him. "Hit me."

He laughed, and wordlessly screwed the cap back on the Captain, and opened the blue bottle of vodka.

"How'd you know that's what I wanted?"

"It's girl stuff." He cast a side-glance at me and smiled.

"Hey, I don't need to pretend to be tough, Captain Morgan." I smiled. "I hate straight liquor. At least this stuff is easier."

"Well, then," he said, handing me my shot, "cheers to not pretending."

We clinked, swallowed, and then I made that face again. He popped open a soda and handed it to me.

"Thanks." I swigged it. "I had a can, but I don't know where it is."

"Never leave a drink unattended and then drink from it again. That's how girls get roofied."

"Are there people here who would do that?"

He furrowed his brows. "I really don't think so. But Ricky is the pill guy." He shrugged. "You should just always be careful anyway."

"There it is!" Johnny said, as I made the winning cup in beer pong. "You finally made one, and right when it really mattered."

He smiled at me.

"Took long enough." I smiled back, all too aware that Max had just come into our part of the room.

"Who wants next?" Johnny asked loudly.

For a small moment I hoped Max would volunteer.

"We do!" Blake said, pulling Cam to the table.

Probably for the best-I didn't need to make a fool of myself when I knew he'd be watching.

"Your shot," Johnny said, nudging me with his elbow.

I aimed, shot and missed.

My head spun every time Cam or Blake made a shot and I had to take a sip of the vodka and pineapple that she'd made for me. Finally they made their last cup, and Johnny and I had lost. I tried very hard to concentrate on the game, but even though my eyes were on the red cups, my brain was in the crowd around us.

I turned to Johnny with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I'm so bad!"