Part 24 (1/2)
”Well, yeah. That b.i.t.c.h gave me a D in Spanish.” She laughs, her gaze faraway as she reminisces. ”I told her I was pregnant, not drunk, and she felt so sorry for me-she got me all these brochures on teen pregnancy, and available resources for teen mothers. I had to pretend I had a growing baby b.u.mp for the rest of the school year. Man, I was so trashy.”
She looks worriedly down at her stomach, smoothing a hand over it. I can't detect a change yet-maybe she's a little thicker in the waist, but that could be because she ate half a Mexican restaurant for lunch, followed by these sundaes. h.e.l.l, I look a little pregnant, too-I was right there with her, burrito for burrito.
”There's no way I'm blowing off your party,” I say firmly, pointing my spoon at her. ”I know how long you've waited for this to happen...I wanna be there to celebrate with you.”
Mich.e.l.le's face softens, blue eyes getting all sparkly. ”I know you do, sweetie. But I don't want you to miss out on celebrating with your friends, too. I know it's been hard on you, going back and forth all these years-cut yourself some slack. Besides, you aren't gonna miss anything special. Unless you're into watching me and my friends sing eighties. .h.i.ts karaoke all night.”
”Actually, that does sound like fun. Thanks to you, I'm all about the eighties.” I laugh, but it quickly turns into a sigh. ”I don't have a costume, anyway.”
”Mmph. What's the theme?” she asks through a mouthful of Rocky Road.
”Zombie Apocalypse.”
”Oh, my G.o.d, that's so easy! I can have you looking like a hot dead chick in fifteen minutes, no problem! Remember those pictures of me in my Goth phase?”
Oh, yeah. Uncle Derek keeps a couple in his wallet so he can take it out and laugh at her sometimes. ”I don't know,” I hedge, tapping my short nails on the counter. ”Everyone's gonna be talking about the smoke bomb incident, and I really don't feel like answering questions about what happened.”
I expect sympathy from my aunt, but she puts her spoon down with a bang, her expression exasperated and stern. ”Juliet Somers! Put your big girl panties on, and quit being so wishy-washy! Do you want to be with Johnny-yes or no?”
”It's not that simple-” I begin heatedly.
”Yes, or no?!”
I blink. ”Yes?”
”Then quit angst-ing, and do something about it now! Go to the dance, make up with him-but don't have s.e.x with him. Don't even show him b.o.o.b.”
”Mich.e.l.le!” I shriek, grossed out.
”Seriously.” She giggles like pre-teen. ”Never show the b.o.o.bies until you're married. 'Cause if you do, they'll, like, fall off. Or something just as bad.”
I roll my eyes at her. ”I love you, but you're a freak.”
”Way to have respect for your elders.” She stares down at her half-eaten sundae, suddenly pale. ”I need meat. Red meat. Maybe beef jerky,” she mumbles contemplatively.
”Want me to get you some?” I offer, half-standing.
”No, I want you to go to the dance, and talk to your boyfriend.” She sighs. ”I think he's a controlling a.s.shole, but...obviously he has his good points.”
”But what about Dad? He-”
”He'll be fine. I'll cover for you.”
Tiny flowers of excitement begin to bloom in my chest. ”Are you sure? Because I really don't have to-”
Mich.e.l.le holds her hand out like a traffic cop, halting my sentence. ”No, you really do. But if you miss my baby shower-then we'll have words.”
Impulsively, I lean over to hug her. ”You're so awesome.”
”I am awesome. I'm going to make the world's best mother, right? I'm awesome, and cool-and I have an endless amount of patience...”
Uncle Derek wanders into the kitchen, looking sweaty and hara.s.sed. ”Hey, Ch.e.l.le, I couldn't find those color-changing candles anywhere. Do we really need them for tonight?”
Poor Uncle Derek. It's like watching that part of the horror movie where the demon takes over the girl's body. Mich.e.l.le's face suddenly contorts into a snarl, teeth bared. I swear I see something evil pa.s.s through the blue depths of her eyes as she starts screeching at him in what can only be the language of tongues.
Uncle Derek flinches. He does the smartest thing he can in that situation: he makes a run for it. I'm already halfway to the door myself.
”Where are you going?”
Mich.e.l.le's completely normal tone of voice stops me. I cautiously turn to face her, and find her face smooth, pretty, and slightly puzzled. ”I was just going to see-uh, check on...I don't know.”
”Well, I know.” Mich.e.l.le beams, and hops clumsily off her stool. ”We're going to the mall, baby!”
Oh, great. She's pregnant with a demon baby.
We find the cutest black dress at Darkly Eden, a weird little store that also sells wiccan candles and flavored lube. I desperately look away when Mich.e.l.le holds up two bottles and frowns back and forth between pa.s.sionate strawberry and kinky coconut lime, trying to decide between them.
Anyway, the dress is s.e.xy and short, held up by a spider web of straps, with a torn chiffon skirt. It's not very apocalyptic, but I do feel kind of mysterious and witchy in it. I s.n.a.t.c.h up these adorable clomping back shoes that also have nothing to do with zombies, but they make me look tall and edgy, so I'll take 'em. I also buy crazy long spidery lashes, which Mich.e.l.le a.s.sures me will look fantastically spooky if we line my eyes with black kohl. I debate whether I should get this cool electric blue wig to go with my outfit, but then I try it on, and-ick, I look really stupid. Maybe I should get it for Heather...I bet it would look hot on her. She could totally rock it at Alfredo's party tonight.
Hm. Maybe it would help convince her to drop me off at the dance on her way to the party.
”I think you're making a huge mistake.”
It's hard to take Heather seriously when she's wearing the blue wig I bought for her, and a strangely decorated spandex body suit. When I ask her what she's supposed to be, she informs me that she's a part of the female anatomy, and invites me to guess which part. I vigorously decline.
”I thought you like Johnny,” I say after a short pause to fix my droopy spider eyelash. ”His cheating a.s.s, notwithstanding.”
”I do like Johnny. And I like you. I just don't like the two of you together,” she clarifies, tugging at her body suit while she's stopped at a red light. ”Why do you have to get back together with him? Dude, I think you're just seriously h.o.r.n.y for him.”
I try to roll my eyes, but the fake lashes make it so weird. ”I don't know if I'm going to get back together with him. I want to talk about the possibility of trying again.”
Heather grimaces at that, but then she mutters, ”G.o.d, this suit is giving me a serious wedgie.” She clears her throat and glances over at me. ”Well, Jule, since you asked for my opinion-”
”I didn't, actually.”
”-I'm going to give it you, straight up. I think every relations.h.i.+p has, like, a shelf life-and your relations.h.i.+p with Johnny is about four months past its expiration date. He was good for you for a little while, but now it's time to move on. Seriously, every girl needs a scorching hot romance-the kind that burns you up, and leaves you feeling hung over and all kinds of bitter. And with a weird puke-y taste in your mouth-like when you're super drunk, and s.h.i.+t keeps coming up your throat? Anyway, it's a good learning experience-but like all tattoos, it should be temporary, or you'll end up regretting it at some point in your life.”
”Says the girl who's never had a real relations.h.i.+p in her life,” I point out, making sure she can hear the irritation in my voice. I don't like being second-guessed, not when I'm having my own doubts. ”And you're too scared of needles to get a tattoo.”
She nods wisely. ”Relations.h.i.+ps are like needles.”
”I thought they were like tattoos?”
Heather waves a hand around. ”Whatever. The point is-you've really been coming out of your sh.e.l.l, lately. Ever since you started hanging out with those guys. Nick, Mack, Ben...Dean.” She smirks when she says Dean's name-I can't imagine why.
I give her a suspicious look. ”Yeah, they're Johnny's friends-and now they're mine, too,” I say slowly, trying to subtly emphasize the word ”friends.”
”You've been hanging out with them a lot.”
”Yup.”