Twice Shy (15 page)

Fey watched him walk away, then looked at Ani. Her eyes narrowed.

"No he's not. When he's on to a girl he gets a certain swagger." She let out a disgusted grunt. "Trust me, I know." She waggled her finger down the hall after him. "This.... This is something else. Something weird." She looked at Ani. "Watch your back. He likes them small and pale, and he'll kiss and tell."

"Is it bad that I find it somewhat flattering?"
Got to plant the seed, make it at least halfway believable.

Fey rolled her eyes. "Maybe not. But don't end up on your back with that kid. He's a two-pump chump."

Ani recoiled. "Oh, Fey, that's disgusting."

She stared after him. "It's worse when you're there, trust me."

*  *  *

Maybe it was the stress, but the roller-skating party bugged her this time. She grabbed the razor and put her hands in her sleeves, frowning. Her stomach was off, like a mosquito's whine in her ear, unnerving and unsettling. It had been so long since she needed to cut, and she winced against the pain as she dragged her razor through the old scars. She sighed in relief as the tightness flowed out of her body, into the air and away. She leaned her head back and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her mom walked over from her perch against the wall, her eyes full of concern. "Are you alright, sweetie?" She had to yell over the Black Eyed Peas.

Ani nodded. "Just a little stressed. I'm fine."

"You're sure? You can go if you need to."

"I'm fine. I'm sure." Her mom walked away, and she turned her attention back to the music, her inner soul dancing while her body sulked.

*  *  *

As they walked out of the party, Jake's beat-up Ford idled at the curb, pumping bass through the neighborhood. All the kids were gone, as were the rest of the chaperones. Jake leaned against the fender, arms crossed. He lifted his chin at her in acknowledgement. She gave him a little wave.

"Hi, Mrs. Romero. Ani, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ani looked at her mom, who hated it when kids called her "Mrs."

"Go ahead, honey. But just for a second."

Ani walked over. He reached inside and turned down the music so that it was no longer shaking the cab. "What's up?" He smelled like weed.

"Hey, um...." Jake shifted his feet.
Oh, no. Please don't ask. Please.
"Do you want to go to the banquet with me?"
FML.

She kept her face flat, devoid of affect. "It's really nice of you to ask, but someone already asked me."

His face wrenched, he looked up at the clouds, then in her eyes. "Who?"

"Keegan Taylor."

His laugh was despair. "Keegan. Wedgies in the hallway Keegan. Kidney-punches in gym Keegan. Keegan." He turned around and put gloved hands on the hood of his truck, held the pose, then turned back, his palms to his forehead. "On what planet does Keegan fucking Taylor ask you out, and you say 'yes'?"

She opened her mouth, but didn't get the chance to reply.

He ran to the driver's side, got in, and slammed the door. Tires squealed as he pulled away, fishtailing across the slippery parking lot. Ani walked to the car, her mom already inside, the windows frosty.

She got in and closed the door, and was greeted by a raised eyebrow.

"That looked exciting."

"He asked me to the banquet."

The eyebrow dropped. "Interesting. Under other circumstances, would you have said 'yes'?"

She didn't have to think about it. "Not in a million years."

"Good. That kid's bad news."

*  *  *

Fey sat down next to her and the bus lurched forward. "Keegan Taylor is taking you to Hearts on Fire." There was no sign of the iPod.

"Yes," Ani said. She kept her eyes on the seat in front of her. "He is."

Fey shifted in the cramped seat so that she was wedged in backward. She looked in Ani's eyes. "Spill."

Ani glanced at her, then out the window.
I knew this wouldn't work.
"He asked me out, I said yes. That's it."

"Bullshit." Fey grabbed her by the chin and turned her head. "You look me in the eyes and tell me the goddamned truth or we're not friends." She stared at her, waiting. "I'm serious."

Oh, Fey. In another life I'd never stand for such a stupid ultimatum, but I need you.
"Mike is paying for us to go together to get Devon off his back."

Fey's jaw dropped. "Shut up!" She punched Ani in the shoulder. "How much?"

"Three hundred." Ani grinned.

Fey's eyes moved up and down Ani's body. "You're screwing Keegan for three hundred—"

Ani sucked air through her teeth. "I am not screwing him. We're just going to the banquet and the dance, and that's it. No kissing, no groping, no nothing. It's just for show."

"Sure."

"It is."

"Well," Fey said, getting out the iPod. "You keep telling yourself that."

Chapter 18

Ani looked at herself in the full-length mirror mounted on the bathroom door. Her black dress was form-fitting from neck to ankles, with a high collar, long sleeves with lace cuffs, and lace flair at the bottom. With high-heeled leather boots, the only skin showing was her face and hands. Red lipstick and nail polish popped against her white skin, and for the evening she'd toned down the black eyeliner and mascara from 'emo freak' to 'emo lite.' Except for the eyebrow rings, lip ring, nose ring, and safety pins in her cheek—which she had reduced to six for the evening—she thought she looked downright good.

She touched up her lipstick, then called out. "Hey, Mom, are these boots too much?" She shook her head.
It's weird not having her in the house. Or the state.
She snuffed the incense, spritzed a cloud of vanilla perfume, and stepped through it.

She used the railing to totter down the stairs, opened a bottle of water, and sat at the piano. She walked her way through Grigor Iliev's
Remains from the Past
. She didn't much care for modern composers, but Iliev's work was special, and this piece in particular was haunting and beautiful. When she heard the throaty rumble of Keegan's Camaro in front of her house, she cut the piece short and grabbed her purse.

The doorbell rang. She took a shot of the water into her mouth, inhaled it, then clopped across the floor in her heels. She looked through the peephole.
Oh, great. A rose.
She opened the door. Keegan looked respectable in an olive-green suit, goldenrod shirt, and crimson tie. He'd gotten a haircut—high and tight—and wore a little too much cologne. His eyes wandered up her body to her face.

"Is that for me?" she asked, plucking the rose from his hands.

"Yeah," he said. "You look nice."
It's called not eating and a padded bra.

She tossed the rose onto the piano without smelling it and said, "Let's get this over with."

His cocky grin collapsed a little. "Yeah, sure. Sooner in, sooner done."
That's what Fey said.
His eyes left her, then alighted on the deadbolts. "Dylan?"

She nodded. "Had them installed after the concert. Decided they were a good idea either way."

"Yeah," he said. "That was some freaky shit."

"Um, yeah."

She herded him out the door and locked it, and Keegan stepped off the stoop into the snow to let her go by.
Ladies first, I guess.
Her heels clop-scraped their way down the dry sidewalk, salt crystals crunching underfoot. Keegan tried to open the door for her, but she did it herself and got in. He held it, then shut it after making sure her dress wouldn't be caught.

His car was immaculate, without a trace of dust or dirt. It smelled clean, like Febreeze and lemon zest.
He'd better not be trying to impress me.
Keegan got in and turned up the heat. "Are you comfortable?"

"Sure."

Ani drummed her nails on her purse as they made their way toward school. Keegan watched the road, hands at ten and two, and almost obeyed the speed limit. The radio protested the awkward silence with low-volume Led Zeppelin.

Keegan laughed, short and harsh. "You know, I used to dream about taking you to the Valentine's Banquet when we were in middle school."
Oh, great.

"Wish fulfilled," she said.
Now shut up.

"Not exactly how I imagined it, though."

"What a shame."
A tiny part of her meant it.

"Look," he said, raising his voice. "I know you're here because Mike asked you to be,
bribed
you to be. I get it. People suck, life sucks, high school sucks. But if we're going to pretend to like each other, you need to get the stick out of your butt."

She smirked. "Very well, consider it removed. I'm sorry I'm not the girl I was in junior high, and I'm sorry that our friendship suffered for it. We can pretend we're back in sixth grade if you want." She looked at him sidelong. "I'm warning you, though, if you try to put snails in my hair it will be the last thing you ever do."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

*  *  *

They pulled into school, chatting about the time Leah slid across the turf on her face and spent the rest of the game with a green forehead. It was a good memory infected and sickened by years of rejection and mockery. She laughed anyway.

They got out of the car, and she traversed the slippery sidewalk with Keegan's help, her hand on his arm for stability. Using him as a crutch, she found she could just manage to not drag her foot. They arrived at the gym doors, and Ani had to suppress an eye roll—pink streamers, pink tablecloths on tables for two, pink napkins, white banners with red intertwined hearts surrounded by pink flame, and to top it all off she was the only girl not wearing a pink dress.
I'm all for cutesy pink, but this is disgusting.

As they walked in, people stared. Ani was used to all kinds of looks—disgust, dislike, hate—so she was surprised to see envy. Boys looked at her with unabashed interest, and girls glared. Keegan strutted to their assigned table, pulled out her chair, and pushed it in once she'd sat. He sat across from her, his grin smug.

"Okay, this is freaking weird," Ani said.

"I told you. You look wonderful tonight."

She smiled, flattered in spite of herself. "If you start singing Clapton—"

"I know, I know. No looking, no touching, no singing on pain of death. All fun will be pretend. I won't even enjoy the food."
He does have a charming little smirk. If he weren't such an egomaniacal ass, some girl could make something of him.

Mike and Devon were seated behind her, so that she couldn't see them while seated at the table.
Just as well.
"Is she buying it?" she asked.

Keegan nodded. "Looks like it. She's only got eyes for Mike, but keeps glancing this way whenever he's not looking."

"Good."
Maybe this won't be a complete waste of an evening.

The appetizer was bacon-wrapped asparagus, which she skipped. Everyone "knew" she was a vegan, which gave her an excuse to avoid most food most of the time. The enzyme dealt better with vegetables than meat, and they flushed out much easier. Keegan ate both servings in under a minute.

For an entree Ani had a grilled Portobello "steak" with some kind of coconut sauce over rice. Like all food, it didn't taste like much of anything, and she picked at it, chewing mechanically. Keegan had steak, and as he cut into it, red juices leaked out onto his plate. He drew his knife through the seared flesh and revealed the rare pink inside, glistening with moist succulence that—

"I thought you were a vegetarian." Keegan said.

Her eyes snapped away from the steak. "I am." She forced herself to look in his eyes, and not at his plate.

He popped the hunk of meat into his mouth and chewed, speaking around the food. "You could have fooled me. That looked like love."

His fork moved back down to the plate, and he cut another piece. Her eyes followed the red liquid as it pooled around his mashed potatoes. She forced them to look at her mushroom, limp, brown, and lifeless.

She set her napkin on the table and stood. He half-stood as she did so, then sat back down.

She held up a finger. "Excuse me. I need to use the restroom." She tried not to hurry as the hunger clawed at her gut, her eyes dancing from plates on the tables to the heads of the people sitting at them. Her mother had given her a dose of serum before she left for the Keys, so the feeling shouldn't have been that intense. The hallway was torturous, each step a struggle not to run. She walked into the bathroom, her thoughts on red, bloody meat and brains.

She locked the door and sat on the toilet. She rummaged through her purse for the razor.
Dammit, where are you?
It wasn't there.
No.
This can't be happening.
She scrambled for something, anything sharp.
Mascara case, tampon, powder brush—bloodbrainsbrainsbrains
—
SAFETY PIN!
She dropped the purse and reached up to her cheek, undid a pin with shaking fingers, and stabbed herself in the wrist.

She gasped in release and her eyes rolled back. She stabbed again, and again, dragging the pin through her skin in ragged tears. Six, seven, ten times. She shuddered, relieved. She breathed out, a long, slow sigh.

"Jesus, you are a freak."

Her eyes snapped into focus. Devon stared down at her from over the stall wall, her lip curled in a disgusted sneer.
She must be standing on the toilet.

"Devon! I... Please, don't tell Mike."

Devon's expression twisted into rage. "You mean Keegan?" She reached down and grabbed Ani's hair. "I'll kill you, you—" The wig pulled off and Devon fell backward into her own stall, her mouth open in surprise.

"Holy shit, Cutter. Not even your hair is real."

"Devon." Ani undid the latch on her door. "You give that back."

Devon bolted for the bathroom door, Ani right behind her. She lost her footing on the tile and crashed to the ground, pain exploding through her injured hip. Devon cried out in triumph as she made it to the hallway. Ani heard her footsteps retreat toward the gym as she pulled herself up with the vanity.