“I have some things I have to do—”
“And I need a friend right now!” Suddenly her eyes begin to well up and I know that I’ve missed something big. Something about last night.
I reach out to grab her sleeve, pulling her over to sit with me on the bed. “What happened?”
She rolls her eyes, as if she doesn’t want to tell me now. “You should have foreseen it,” she murmurs. But I’ve told her before, I’m not psychic. My problems are so much bigger than having a few visions. So much worse.
I wait only a second before Sarah starts talking. “I saw Seth last night.”
“That’s good. I thought that was the whole upside of going to the dinner.”
She pauses, and meets my eyes. “It was. And he was happy to see me. Very happy.” She looks away and I’m confused, but I decide not push it. To let her tell me in her own way.
“Okay.”
“Things started off great,” she says. “He told me I looked beautiful and asked if I’d go outside on the patio. And since the dinner was dull as hell, I said yes. The weather was so nice, we started walking the grounds. I followed him over to the side of the hotel.” Her mouth pulls into a sad smile. “He asked if he could kiss me.”
Normally, this would be a totally squealy moment, but by the way Sarah’s talking, I know it’s not. I know she’s ashamed. And my stomach turns with anxiety.
“I’m not a good girl by any stretch of the imagination,” she says. “So I said yes, pushed him up against the wall, and we started going at it.” She looks at me. “He’s a terrible kisser, by the way.”
“I could’ve guessed that. He’s a mouth breather.” Maybe not really, but she’s my friend and I’ve got her back.
“Anyways...” She sighs. “In another ‘what the hell was I thinking’ moment, he asked me to do more. I did. And after we returned to the dinner, I didn’t feel too offended when we separated to opposite sides of the room. I figured he had his obligations. I had mine. But then”—she stops to hold up her finger—“as he’s leaving, he comes over to me, leans in close, and whispers, ‘That was great. Thanks.’”
The joking is gone. All that’s left is humiliation and I feel it for her. It’s not the same knowing that I get with the Need. This knowledge is from being someone’s best friend. From knowing their every insecurity. I wish the Need would have stopped her from going to that dinner last night.
“So today,” she says with a sad smile, “well, today is all about Sarah Sterns, the BJ queen. I should really have business cards made.”
I drop my eyes, ready to cry. At St. Vincent’s your reputation is all you have, both to the other students and the nuns. There’s a chance that Sarah’s mother (or God forbid, father) could get a call this afternoon, outlining the rumors.
“I’ll have Harlin kick his ass,” I say quickly, looking at her. “I’m not sure if he would, but I’m willing to ask.”
She smiles. “No. Besides, Harlin doesn’t really strike fear into the hearts of men, if you know what I mean. He’s more of a lover than a fighter.”
I smile. “True.”
Sarah exhales, tugging on the ends of her hair. “I wish your powers worked for me and not dead strangers.”
“You make me sound like a superhero.”
“Maybe you are. And your secret identity is Charlotte Cassidy—fashion victim. You’re like a hot Peter Parker.”
I laugh, but inside I’m miserable. I want the Need to work for her. For my family. Monroe called this a blessing, but it feels more like a curse.
Sarah wraps her arms around herself and stands up. “The worst part is,” she says, “I thought he liked me. I thought today he’d sit next to me at lunch, carry my books—all that clichéd crap.” Her tears brim over just as I jump up to give her a hug.
“I’m going to knee his balls so hard when I see him,” I murmur into her shoulder.
Sarah straightens and wipes at the mascara under her eyes. “I’m fine,” she says. “That won’t be necessary.”
“No. It really is. He can’t do that to—” A sly smile stretches across Sarah’s lips and I feel my anxiety release a little. “What did you do?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She holds up her hands innocently. “I mean, I may have mentioned to a few people that his you-know-what”—she pinches her fingers together—“was so small, it didn’t really count.”
I burst out laughing, totally proud and ashamed of her all at once. “Did you really?”
“He deserved it,” she says, and brushes her hair over her shoulder. “Now. Are you going to come hang out with me or not? I can’t go back to school today. I figured we could go hang out at my place. Daddy’s in Seattle today.” She grins. “But before we go out in public... do you have any hats?”
