A few heads turn to look at us, due to our over-the-top entrance. House music blares from the speakers as I push past the thick crowds of costumed students from Fallbrook, half of whom I don’t even recognize from the drama club. So much for this party being exclusive to theater students. Apparently, I have nothing to worry about, coming uninvited. Half these people probably weren’t invited either.
To my immense relief, hardly anyone is on their phone. I expected Little Birdie’s blast to be the conversation point when I walked in. I clasp Rue’s hand as we squeeze through a group of freshmen, and relief washes over me when I spy Carlton, Meredith, and Mabel on the staircase a few feet away. Carlton’sface is painted green, and he’s wearing ripped clothing and a black wig with the hair going in several different directions. Mabel is in a blond wig and a white dress with a name tag on her chest that reads, “Hello, my name is Marilyn.” Her sister is wearing a gaudy pearl necklace, with her hair in a French twist and a matching name tag on her black dress that says, “Hello, my name is Audrey.”
As if by intuition, Carlton locks eyes with me from across the room. I smile faintly, but his expression seems to transform from neutral into a cold, permanent scowl.
Everything will be fine. You just need to tell the truth.The thought is what propels me toward him, it’s what allows me to ignore the warning bells that fire in my mind. Bells that say,do not approach him while he’s angry!
As Rue and I near the staircase, a gradual hush seems to fall across the room. It feels like a spotlight is suddenly being shined right on us. Unfortunately, this is the only kind of spotlight I’m used to—the kind that alerts others to my personal business and distributes the news as fast as a wildfire.
“What do you want, Dot?” It’s Carlton who speaks first. The remaining conversations echoing in the background fade into the booming music, and I resist the urge to look around to see if everyone is watching.
When I answer him, my voice comes out too quiet. “I need to talk to you.”
I cringe at how pathetic it sounds. My relationship with Carlton used to be fun. He was there to comfort me when Mom left. But now, it’s hard to remember what’s left between us now that the majority of our interactions consist of me apologizing to him. Explaining myself to him. Trying to talk him down from blowing up on me.
And I’m tired of it.
“Honestly, Dot,” he says. “I don’t care what you have to say.” The words cut through me, made worse by the dozens of eavesdroppers all around us. “You’ve been sneaking around behind my back since the school year began,” he continues. “All this time, you’ve been nothing but a liar.”
I’m at a loss for words, but I try anyway. “Carlton, I?—”
“What’s going on?” The voice cuts me off, and it’s one I didn’t realize I needed to hear until it slices through the room.
Zayne.
Zayne is here.
I scan the room, my eyes flitting over the silent party group huddled on the banisters and stuffed into corners until I find his face in the doorway to the kitchen. It makes me feel braver. Stronger.
“Sneaking around withhim,no less,” Carlton seethes.
“You and I aren’t even together. You have no right to be mad.” My voice is firmer than any tone I’ve ever used with him. I’m done trying to be nice to him. For the first time since I met him, I no longer care about his approval, his attention. I don’t need him anymore.
I don’t want him anymore.
“And we never will be together,” he grounds out. “So why don’t you take your pathetic acting and go be a nobody in that sad little town again.”
My lips part. His words make my face feel like it’s on fire. Everyone stares at me as I storm past him, up the staircase. I can feel the weight of all the eyes on the back of my neck as if they’re made of stone. I search for an empty room, because I think I might cry. If I do, I want to be alone. It would be just my luck for someone to snap a picture of me. They would probably send it to Little Birdie. I can practically see the headline:Fledglings! Dot Bennett was spotted crying over Carlton Peters after he insulted her in front of a large crowd of party-goers!
Not that she would need to post anything at all. Half the school is already here at this party, witnessing it firsthand.
I knock on a door before opening it and find the room empty.Thank you, Lord.I sit on the bed. Glancing around, I realize this must be Mabel’s room. A mint blue comforter covers her large bed, and accents of what seems like her favorite color are apparent in her pillows, rug, laptop case, and the fluffy robe hanging on the back of her door. She has Polaroid photos and larger prints covering every available space on her walls. Photos of the beach, of sunsets, of herself, and some of her and Meredith as babies. It’s easy to see how they became baby models. In every photo, the pair of them are dressed in matching, one-of-a-kind pieces, smiling at the camera like naturals. They look adorable.
A knock on the door startles me. “Who is it?” I wipe away any non-existent tears, just in case.
The door opens, revealing Zayne. I belatedly register his black cape with a tall collar. The fake blood on the corner of his mouth. He’s dressed like a vampire.
“Dot.” He strides toward me and sits next to me on the bed. “What happened back there?” He searches my face. I’m not sure what he finds, but his frown seems to deepen.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess Carlton saw the post Little Birdie put out.” A pause. “You know. Of us at the pumpkin patch.”
“So what?” Zayne narrows his eyes. “What does that matter?”
“It doesn’t,” I say. “Not really.” But I’m lying. And he knows it. I can see it on his face. I can see the intensity in his searching glance, the tautness of his shoulders, like he’s afraid to breathe. I can see that he’s pretending to be oblivious, probably for my sake.
The scary part is how convincing it is. If I didn’t know Zayne better, I’d believe the act.
But I do know him.
