Rival (13 page)

Then I saw a duster coat and long blond hair.

“Miles!” I shouted. “Miles!”

Miles dropped his arm from Anna's shoulder as he turned, looking guilty even in the midst of such chaos, and the word I had been hunting for earlier came to me:
Miles is a player. Matt was right.

But Miles could have been an ax murderer for all I cared at that moment. I ran up to him, panting. “We have
to go. We need a ride. You have to take everybody home!”

Miles grabbed Anna's hand and headed for the parking lot while I trailed behind. “Wait a minute,” I shouted. I broke away and ran back toward the bonfire. “We need to get Brooke and Chloe. They can't find Bill and Brice. Miles, we have to wait!”

But when I looked, I couldn't find Brooke anywhere.

 

Jason Riley, it turned out, didn't die. He didn't even get hurt very badly, just some cuts and scrapes from sliding down the rocks and getting caught in a tree, where he waited until a firefighter could rappel down for him under the glare of floodlights from a massive pumper truck. Chloe had the whole story when Dina and I met her the next day at the mall.

“They're going to make him pay for the equipment and the firefighters' time,” she said, stirring her Frappuccino at the food court. “He's so screwed.”

The bags at her feet rattled as she shifted in her chair. Only one of them was mine, a pair of shoes I'd found on sale to go with the Homecoming gown my mother was making. I'd hidden that fact from Chloe and Dina by pretending not to find anything I liked in any of the stores we visited. “There's nothing wrong with being picky,” Chloe had said as I tried on, and then rejected, dresses so beautiful they made my teeth hurt. I couldn't
help wondering whether she would have said the same thing about being poor.

“So who got caught?” Dina asked. “I heard, like, a hundred people went to jail.”

“Nobody went to jail,” Chloe sniffed. “Nick told me they were taking names, but there were so many people they had to quit after fifty or so. We got stuck in this huge traffic jam trying to drive away, and the cops started going car to car. Bill and Brice made Brooke drive since she only had a couple beers, and she was a mess because she doesn't have her license, and we hit the highway ramp just in time because this policeman was only, like, four cars back. I was pissing my pants. You have no idea.”

Dina turned to me. “And you made the getaway with Miles. How was the after-party?”

I shrugged, staring into my plain black coffee. “I think Miles and I are over. He brought somebody else and she was all over him the entire way home.”

“Anna the Swedish snow bunny,” said Chloe, nodding. “Word has it he already asked her to Homecoming. Sorry, Kathryn.”

“It was nice of him to tell me,” I muttered. “Especially now that I've got a dress and shoes.”

“Don't worry.” Chloe gave a dismissive wave. “I'll set you up with somebody better.” Her cell phone rang and
her lips turned up as she checked the screen. “It's Brooke.”

I sat forward; I'd been trying to reach Brooke all morning.

“Hey, B,” Chloe said. “So what happened after I left last night? Was it depraved and hilarious, and will we get to see it on YouTube?”

Chloe's smile faded while she listened. She eyed me, and then handed over the phone.

“Where are you?” Brooke sounded angry.

“At the mall,” I said. “I've been trying to call you.”

“I slept in. Why aren't you here? We were going to Hildy's recital. Remember?”

I dropped my head into my hand, rubbing my temple as an old conversation came back to me. Brooke and I had talked about hearing her voice teacher's studio perform; I must have mixed up the dates.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “We never discussed it again. I guess I was thinking it was next month.”

Silence. I shook my head, staring at the bags on the floor. What did she want me to say? It was an innocent mistake, and if she hadn't been ignoring her phone all morning, then I wouldn't have made it in the first place. Chloe wrote something on a napkin and shoved it under my nose.
Tell her to come out. Dollar movie at four
.

“Why don't you come here?” I said. “We were thinking of seeing a movie.”

“I'm not going to the movies. I told Hildy I'd be at her recital.”

“Look,” I said. “I'm sorry. I can get over there in twenty minutes if you wait.”

“Just forget it.”

There it was again, that voice that heaped guilt at my feet, then shut me out. Nothing I did seemed to be good enough for Brooke anymore, unless it was sitting at her piano talking about opera. “Do you want me there or not?” I said. In the background I could hear the bell warning theatergoers to take their seats.

“It's starting,” she said. “I have to go.” The line went dead, so fast that I wondered if I'd been hung up on.

“Well?” said Chloe. “Is she coming?”

“No,” I said, confused and annoyed all at the same time. “She seems upset.”

Chloe shrugged. “She gets like that. Her dad's probably not returning her calls again.”

“Yeah,” said Dina. “Whenever he gets a new job he goes incommunicado.”

I shook my head. “I don't think that's it. Her dad's not even working right now. She told me he's in Romania with Jake.”

Chloe tilted her head. “Where?”

“Romania. You know, on the new
Mephistopheles
movie?”

Chloe and Dina looked at each other, then they looked at me again, their eyes big as volleyballs.

“Hold on,” said Chloe. “Did you just say
Mephisto pheles
? And
Jake
? Are you telling us Brooke's dad is in Romania with
Jake Jaspers
?”

“
The
Jake Jaspers?” said Dina. “As in the movie star?”

They looked at each other once more and started to giggle nervously.

“No way!” Dina sputtered. “Oh my God!”

Chloe reached across the table and grabbed me by the arm. “You're kidding, right? How do you know?”

“I thought everybody knew.” I faltered. “Her dad's gay. Is that a big deal or something?”

Chloe gaped at me like I'd just suggested she wear last year's fashion. “No, that's not a big deal. Everybody knows Brooke's dad is gay.”

“But he's going out with Jake Jaspers?” Dina squealed. “Oh my God, you have to tell us everything!”

My thoughts raced in a million different directions as I scrambled to piece together what this meant. Brooke had never told me her dad's relationship was a secret, but apparently it was so big that she hadn't even told Chloe. That realization brought a bigger, far more heady one:

I was closer to Brooke Dempsey than the most popular girls in my class.

I should have stopped right there. I should have said that I'd made it all up or misunderstood or even that I'd
promised Brooke I wouldn't tell, but Chloe and Dina were clinging to my every word. The spotlight was on me but instead of shrinking away, for once I let it flood me with power.

I took a deep breath and told them everything.

They listened, breaking in every now and then with a “Holy shit!” or a “No way!” and I don't think it was Jake Jaspers that interested them so much as the fact that there was something about Brooke they didn't know.

Chloe actually seemed angry about it.

“Brooke and I have been best friends since sixth grade,” she said. “How come she told you all that and not me?”

“I don't know,” I said, and squirmed in my seat. The spotlight had become too bright; now that I'd told her Brooke's secret I couldn't take it back.

“Seriously,” she went on. “What kind of person doesn't tell their best friend something like that?”

Now, when I think back on it, I realize there's another question she should have asked; or maybe I should have asked it of myself:
What kind of person tells other people her best friend's secrets?

But I didn't ask that question. If I had, it could have changed everything.

 

“Do
you
know where she is?” Chloe asked me as she peered up at the crowded stadium. The Homecoming game had just started, and we'd settled near the bottom
row, underneath a blanket with Chloe's date, Mitch, and an empty seat where my date, Owen Lynch, was supposed to be. I shook my head no.

“Maybe she's pissed she doesn't have a date,” Chloe said. “I tried setting her up with Sam Langenkamp but she acted like he had a disease or something. If Brooke wants to be picky that's her call. But people expect to see her at an event like this, you know?”

I nodded, though secretly I was glad Brooke wasn't there. I was fed up with the guilt trips, the silent treatments, the way she'd want to be around me one minute, then turn around the next and act as if I'd disappointed her in some profound and secret way. I wanted to enjoy my first real Homecoming, to sit in the elite seats at the stadium, then drink in the romance of the dance and let myself go at the after-party without feeling bad.

I glanced around, looking for Owen. He'd left to talk with some of his wrestling buddies, and I hoped I didn't look like a third wheel sitting alone while Chloe and Mitch shared a cup of hot chocolate. Not that a date really mattered; to me, Owen seemed more like a prop—a movie character who fades into the background of a bigger, more epic scene. The lights, the band, the cheerleaders, the other A-listers who sat around us like royalty—they were amazing.

And I was a part of it.

Chloe put her hand on my arm, pulling me out of my seat.

“I hate football,” she said to Mitch. “We're going to the bathroom.”

I put my foot forward and felt the toe of my boot sink into something soft. A howl of pain sent me back onto my rear end; the guy on the bleacher directly in front of me started rocking back and forth, fingers in his mouth.

“Oh my God!” I stooped to offer help, though I had no idea what to do. “Are you okay? I'm so sorry!”

He examined his smashed fingers, and while he did I got a chance to study him: He had shaggy brown hair and eyes that managed to look kind even while they gazed back up at me in agony.

“Kathryn,” Chloe said, as smooth as ever. “If you're going to stomp on people's hands, at least be polite and tell them who you are.”

“Um…Chloe just said it. I'm Kathryn.” I held out my hand, blushing. He went to reciprocate, realized he was offering his injured one, and gave me the other to shake instead.

“Let me get you some ice,” I said.

He laughed. “It's ten below out. If I want ice I'll just leave my gloves off.”

“Then at least let me buy you a hot chocolate. You've got to let me make it up to you.”

“How about a dance later on?”

Those words started a somersault in my stomach. All of that time I'd spent wondering and worrying about Miles—why hadn't I considered that there were other guys at school, guys just as good-looking, who wouldn't treat me like just another member of the harem?

I told him I had a date. “Boodawg's then,” he said. “Promise you'll find me at the party?”

“Okay,” I said, blushing even deeper.

“Alex Kelly,” Chloe told me as we walked up the steps toward the restrooms on the concourse level. “Class: senior. Status: single.”

Later at the dance, I watched Alex swaying with Angela Van Zant across the gym. He lifted his fingers in a miniature wave as Owen draped himself over me, running his hands up and down my back and singing in my ear.

When we got to Bud's house, I left Owen at the door and started looking for Alex. It really was like some sort of movie. People in suits and gowns mingled in the dim rooms, their faces illuminated by firelight and the glow from a few strategically placed lamps. The dramatic lighting transformed my hand-sewn dress into a designer gown. Venturing into the kitchen, I filled a delicate-stemmed glass with wine and savored the first sips.

That's when I saw her: Brooke, sitting in the breakfast
nook with her brothers, wearing jeans and a Baldwin sweatshirt. I waved; she didn't wave back. I tried again. Nothing.

“Great,” I muttered. “What's wrong now?”

Chloe walked past, and I snatched her hand. “Brooke's here,” I said.

“Where?” Chloe craned her neck and I pulled her out the kitchen door, onto the heated patio; I didn't want Brooke to see us talking about her.

“She's in the kitchen with Bill and Brice. She looks angry.”

“Really?” Chloe stepped over to a window and peeked in. “She looks like she always does. I bet she's just regretting she wore that tragic sweatshirt out of the house.”

I peeked over Chloe's shoulder just as Brooke turned toward us. I ducked, bringing Chloe down with me.

“Watch your wine!” she said, pulling back as the red splashed dangerously close to her dress.

“Sorry.” I took a gulp to reduce the chances of an overflow. “It's just that I keep getting the impression she's mad at me, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe something might have happened.”

“What could have happened?”

“I don't know. Did she tell you anything?”

“No.” Chloe stood back up, smoothing her skirt and looking annoyed. “I'm sure it's nothing beyond the fact
that she's missed out on most of the night already. Don't worry about it. I know Brooke better than anybody else and she's moody. That's all. Whatever it is, she'll get over it.”

But I knew it was more than that; I knew, because there was no way I could
not
know. Every time I turned around I saw Brooke glaring at me. The glamorous movie had turned into a horror show.

“Wow. You look amazing.” I'd just ducked into the study when Alex Kelly appeared next to me, a cocktail glass in each hand. “Gin and tonic?” he said, holding one of them out to me. “It's good gin. You'll barely taste it.”