Faking Perfect (21 page)

The only reason I got out of bed at all was because I needed to defrost a mouse for Trevor. Also, my prom dress couldn’t stay balled up on the floor. After throwing on some clothes, I walked over to it, intending to hang it up and try to smooth out the wrinkles. But I didn’t. Instead, I used my bare foot to kick it across the room. It slid under my bed, joining millions of dust bunnies and a few misplaced socks.
Good
, I thought, and headed upstairs.

The kitchen was still a disaster area. Mom hadn’t bothered to clean it before she left for work and God only knew where Jesse was. He’d practically moved in near the middle of June, always popping up at the breakfast table or in front of the TV, his creepy eyes following me whenever I passed. Being around him made me want to bathe in scalding hot water mixed with bleach, so the rare times I was home, I’d taken to hiding in my room for hours on end. That had afforded me plenty of time to cram for my exams, and I’d wound up with straight A’s as a result. Self-imposed imprisonment could be a very effective study method.

But exams were over, as was high school, and for that I was grateful. In September, I’d be gone, living somewhere else, meeting new people. People who didn’t know about me. At Benton, I could reinvent myself yet again, erase the Oakfield High Lexi and hope that others erased her, too. Time held the power to do that—obliterate the past, wash it away.

Ignoring the mess, I opened the freezer and sifted through its contents until I spotted a “rodent coffin,” as my mother called the little boxes of frozen mice. As my fingers closed around it, something on the freezer door caught my eye. A frosty, half-full bottle of vodka.

Even though I wasn’t dehydrated from a hangover, I suddenly felt incredibly thirsty. Thirstier than last night in the kitchen with Tyler. Thirstier than I’d ever been before. Plain water wouldn’t be enough to quench that kind of dry, persistent need. It required something more. Something strong enough to dull the ache.

It’s in your genes
, Ben had said. He was right—it was.

I placed the mouse on the counter to thaw and gathered up the bottle of vodka, a carton of orange juice, and a tall glass, carrying all three to the living room. Making sure the blinds were tightly closed, I flicked on the TV and proceeded to mix myself a drink at the coffee table. Mom worked late on Saturdays; I knew she wouldn’t be home for at least six hours, and Jesse wasn’t quite pathetic enough to hang around while she wasn’t there. I had all the time in the world to watch sitcom reruns and get ripping drunk.

When I came to a few hours later, the living room was spinning and Grace was standing near my head, bawling her head off.

What the hell?
I thought as I squinted up at her. She was wearing a shiny pink dress and a silver tiara, like a miniature prom queen. For a moment, I thought I was back at the cottage, being scowled at by the princesses from hell.

Princesses. Oh shit.

“I c-couldn’t w-wake you up,” Grace said through her sobs. “I was shaking you f-fowever.”

Guilt sliced through me, the strength of it propelling my body into a sitting position. My head throbbed and my stomach threatened to blow, but I tried to focus on Grace and the puzzling fact that she was in my living room instead of at her house, enjoying the spoils of her birthday party. The party I’d missed because I was a horrible babysitter and a despicable person.

“Grace,” I said, wincing at the pain that resulted from simply moving my lips to speak. “How did you get here?”

She sniffled and wiped her nose with her hand. Her fingers were adorned with plastic jewels. “I walked.”

“By yourself?”

She nodded.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

A head shake. No.

Dammit.
Rachel and Todd were probably frantic, looking for her. She could have gotten lost or kidnapped or hit by a car, and it would be all my fault.

“Why didn’t you come?” Grace asked me as I glanced around the room for the phone. “You said you were coming.”

I looked at her standing there in her pretty princess dress with her mouth smeared with pink frosting, and I wanted to jump off the nearest bridge. How could I have forgotten? How could I have done this to her? Grace loved me unconditionally, trusted me completely, and she didn’t deserve this. She was just a child, pure and innocent.

“I’m so sorry, Gracie,” I said, taking both her hands in mine. “I didn’t mean to miss your party. I was just . . . I didn’t feel well and I fell asleep on the couch.”

She nodded, accepting this, and another wave of shame crashed through me. They were my mother’s words, the same lame excuses she’d used on me when I was Grace’s age and found her facedown on the couch or bed or even on the floor.
I didn’t feel well. I was sick. I fell asleep.
I sounded just like her.

The phone rang then, startling us both. I knew before I even picked it up that it was Rachel, and it was. She let out a huge sigh of relief when I assured her Grace was safe at my house. I wanted to apologize to her, too, but it wasn’t the time. Todd was coming to pick up Grace and I still had to dig out her present.

But first, I got rid of the vodka bottle and shoved a few sticks of gum in my mouth. Then I jogged down the stairs to my room to get Grace’s gift. All those fast, jerky movements made my head pound even harder, but that was fine. I deserved a lot worse.

Luckily, Todd wasn’t the observant type and accepted my “sick” excuse without question. Grace left happy, her little arms hugging the giant stuffed unicorn I’d chosen for her. They thought the world of me, all of them, and I’d screwed up. I’d screwed everything up. For years I’d had all these different personas warring inside me—good, bad, popular, pariah, real, fake—each of them vying for control. After last night, when that control was stripped away, I’d immediately lapsed into the one persona I knew inside and out. The persona that existed in my blood, my genes—a drinking, lying, unresponsive lump. I’d become my mother.

The realization sent me to the toilet, where I purged my stomach of the last few hours, and then to the shower, where I scrubbed myself raw. Then it pushed me across the street to Nolan’s house, where I pounded on the door until it swung open.

Nolan stood on the other side, wearing a shirt that said KEEP OUT OF DIRECT SUNLIGHT and peering cautiously at me. “Yeah?” he said, not ready to be friendly.

“Can I come in?”

He shrugged and held open the door. “Suit yourself.”

I stepped in and he closed the door behind me. The house was quiet.
Saturday,
I thought. Malcolm was away for work, Teresa was showing houses, and Landon had baseball. I knew their schedules and routines as well as I knew my own.

“I was just sketching,” Nolan mumbled as we descended the stairs to the family room. He sat on the couch and picked up his sketch pad. I followed, perching on the edge of the cushion beside him.

“Who is that?” I asked, peeking at his drawing. I didn’t recognize the face, but she was gorgeous, whoever she was.

“My dental hygienist.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. Nolan always went to the dentist willingly, hadn’t missed a cleaning in years. Now I knew why. I wondered if Amber had seen the sketch.

“Shut up,” he said, but not unkindly. In fact, it appeared as though he was trying not to laugh.

His expression made
me
laugh. God, I’d missed hanging out with him. Despite my splitting headache and severe indigestion, I was struck with an amazing sense of clarity. How could I have jeopardized our friendship? And for
Ben
?

“I’m an idiot,” I said softly. “And a bitch. And a pretentious asshole.”

Nolan continued to sketch, sliding his pencil over Hottie Hygienist’s lips.

“I’m really sorry,” I went on, knowing he was listening. “For everything. Fighting with you sucks. I don’t want us to be like our moms, too stubborn and proud to forgive each other.”

He glanced at me, eyebrows cocked, calling bullshit on my last statement. His mom had tried to mend fences, many times. It was
my
mom who was stubborn and proud. “I don’t want to be like my mom,” I amended.

He went back to his drawing. “You’re not like your mom, Lex.”

But I was, and to prove it I proceeded to tell him everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Everything. And through it all, he kept drawing, shading, blending, letting me unload.

“It’s over with Ben,” I said in conclusion, “but that’s not why I’m here right now, apologizing to you. It was long overdue. I never should have let him get into my head like that. I deceived him, I get that. I own it. But he’s not the person I thought he was, either.”

Nolan stayed quiet for a few minutes. When he did speak, he didn’t say a word about Ben, didn’t crow that he’d told me so even though he had the right. He didn’t even comment on my catastrophe of a prom night or my vodka pity party in the living room. He just nodded his forgiveness and asked, “Can I still draw you?”

“Uh . . . sure.”

“With freckles?”

“Naturally,” I quipped.

“Can I draw Tyler Flynn hitting Ben?”

I shot him a look.
Don’t push it.

He grew serious for a moment. “You’re part of my family, Lex,” he said, catching my gaze and holding it, making sure I heard and understood his next words. “We all love you, but none of us are
in
love with you. Got it?”

“Got it.” I’d never let myself doubt it again.

That night in my room, I picked up my phone and started scrolling through the dozens of texts it had accumulated in the past twelve hours. Just as I’d thought, most of them were from curious classmates wondering what had happened. A few were mean, one word texts from girls I didn’t even know.
Bitch. Slut
. Nasty-grams from Tyler’s admirers, I assumed. Or Ben’s sympathizers. I deleted those. Obviously, there was nothing from Emily or Ben, both of whom hated my guts at the moment. The thing I’d feared since tenth grade was actually happening—I’d fallen to the bottom of the food chain, vulnerable and reviled, unworthy of a simple acknowledgment.

Just as I was about to give up and hit
DELETE ALL
, I came across a text from Shelby.

Heard about last night. Not mad at you. Shit happens, I understand. Em & Ben aren’t perfect, either. Remember that.

Tears stinging my eyes, I sent a quick response. Thanks.

Out of the three of them, I valued Shelby’s friendship the most. It felt good to know I hadn’t lost her, too.

“Pssst. Lexi.”

I dropped my phone and let out a little shriek.
My walls are talking to me
, I thought inanely.
I’m losing it
.

But no, the voice was coming from the direction of my open window. Heart in my throat, I crawled off my bed and peeked outside. Tyler was crouched on the grass, his face angled toward the window. Nolan’s drawing come to life.

“Why do you insist on scaring the hell out of me?” I hissed at him.

“Sorry. Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”

Sighing, I pushed the little levers that held my screen in place and then popped it off. Tyler shimmied in, landing with a soft thud beside me. I immediately replaced the screen so as not to let in the mosquitoes. My screen kept out insects and wildlife just fine, but apparently it didn’t work on teenage boys.

“What is it, Tyler?” I said, flopping back on the bed. I was so tired, so done with all the drama. My nerves felt like old rubber bands, stretched tight and thin. Ready to snap.

He started pacing my room, walking back and forth between my dresser and the bed. I’d never seen him so agitated. “I feel bad about last night,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Trevor’s tank, his back to me. “Responsible.”

I just stared at him. Tyler Flynn, remorseful? Taking responsibility? What planet was I on?

“It’s my fault,” I told him. “Not yours. It was bound to come out eventually. It’s just too bad it had to happen on prom night in front of a few dozen witnesses.”

“I still feel bad.” He peered in at Trevor, his face inches from the glass. “I know you were embarrassed.”

“Well, yeah. Weren’t you?”

He flicked a glance over his shoulder. “I was never ashamed of us. That was you.”

I opened my mouth to deny it but shut it again. He was right. I was ashamed of what we’d done. Ashamed of myself. Of him. In some ways, I was no better than my ex-friends.

“I never would have told anyone, you know,” he said. “About us, I mean. No matter how pissed off you made me.”

“I know.” If he’d proven anything to me over the last nine months, it was his commitment to keeping our secret. My secret. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. For using you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It wasn’t exactly torture for me.”

I could hear the smirk in his voice, that old Tyler cockiness. Impulsively, I slid off the bed and joined him in front of the tank. Together, we watched Trevor slither along his Astroturf, raising his head every few moments like he was expecting us to pet him. That was when I remembered. His mouse was still on the kitchen counter, probably at room temperature by now. With all the craziness of today, I’d forgotten to feed the poor guy. “I’ll be back in a second.” I dashed out of my room and up the stairs.