Part 14 (1/2)

”That doesn't mean you should mangle your f.u.c.king face.”

”It doesn't mean I shouldn't, either.”

This was definitely a different Lila. Maybe it was because Amy wasn't there, or maybe she was far drunker than I'd thought. It was also possible she really was on something else. Lila always talked about how Brian could get stuff, stuff that would make your mind and the walls melt.

”You're not scaring me if that's what you're trying to do,” I said.

”I'm scaring me.” She laughed, lifting the cigarette again. The tip was angry orange. She moved it closer to her cheek and squinted from the smoke. ”Before you got here I was holding a razor blade like this, getting up the guts to cut my face on the diagonal. Like a peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich.”

Was she f.u.c.king serious?

”I'm going to be too drunk to drive you to the emergency room,” I said, taking another sip from my gla.s.s like I wanted to prove it.

She moved the cigarette closer. I saw her cheek contract from the heat.

”Lila, f.u.c.king stop!” I said. I could get up and tackle her if I had to, but did I want to? Did I want to see if she had the guts to go through with it?

”I wonder how many guys would try to get in my pants with an oozing blister on my face,” she said.

”Seriously, enough.” My voice was strained, like I'd been screaming all night and there was nothing left.

She didn't pull the cigarette away. Only stared at herself in the mirror, waiting. Maybe she was trying to decide if she could do it, if she was drunk enough, crazy enough, or really ready to leave the burden of her beauty behind.

Especially because I knew exactly what she meant when she said it.

”Doing that isn't going to prove s.h.i.+t,” I said. I could feel my hands and arms start to tingle. Lila was scaring me. She was actually really f.u.c.king scaring me. I might not have been able to admit it to her, but that was the truth.

”What will not doing it prove?” she asked.

The door to her room flew open and Lila dropped the still burning cigarette on the vanity.

”Oh my G.o.d, give me a drink,” Amy said. She was wearing a skirt, tights, and a puffy white sweater that she pulled off and threw next to me on the bed.

She stood in the middle of the floor in her bra and skirt.

”Amy,” Lila said, picking up her cigarette from the vanity and showing it to her. ”New rule: knock next time. I dropped my cigarette and almost burned the house down.”

”Sorry,” Amy said, pulling off her tights, throwing on a T-s.h.i.+rt she grabbed out of her backpack, and sitting on the floor.

I laughed, mostly because I was so glad Amy was there, so Lila would stop scaring the s.h.i.+t out of me.

”What have you guys been doing?” Amy asked.

”Missing the f.u.c.k out of you,” I joked, pouring myself another gla.s.s of vodka.

”Ha,” Amy said, looking at Lila. Maybe she noticed that she looked frazzled, or maybe she was just so relieved to be away from her parents that she didn't care.

Eventually Lila's house was filled with kids from our school, playing super-loud rap music and drinking out of a keg. As the night went on, Lila turned back into Lila-vain, pretty Lila-but even with our secret, I decided I would avoid ever being alone with her again.

Out on the road now, wherever the h.e.l.l Lila is, my guess is she doesn't look like Lila anymore-that the freedom she got by running away had maybe finally let her leave the burden of her beauty behind.

For her sake, I hope so.

14 f.u.c.king Days Left I woke up with Troyer standing above me, her hand covering my mouth. It tasted like worms and fish guts. Leave it to her to pick the night after we had our training in fis.h.i.+ng to surprise me above my bed.

I pushed her hand away and spit on the floor next to my bed. ”Sick, Troyer.”

She put one finger to her lip, spit, and wiped her hand front and back on her uniform.

”See,” I said.

She looked at me.

”What do you want?” I asked. It was becoming standard at this camp that at least one person was standing above another's bed once a night, scaring the s.h.i.+t out of them.

She grabbed my shoulder, probably because she couldn't just tell me to get up.

I sat and looked across the dark cabin at Nez. She was still sleeping. Nez had actually been really good at fis.h.i.+ng, talking about the correlation between catching fish and catching guys. She kept making kissy faces at the water, saying, Here fishy, fishy, and it was like they actually heard her and jumped onto her pole. If Rawe hadn't been there watching, I might have thrown Nez off the dock to see if any of her beloved fish tried to save her.

Like Ben had saved me.

Troyer steadied her gaze. I got it: Nez was not invited. Super. But since when did Troyer call the shots?

I guess since tonight.

I was kind of surprised that Nez wasn't gone already, into the arms of whatever boy would take her that night. Maybe she had her period. Of course, she kind of always acted like she had her period.

I guess I did, too, but that was more ironic than I wanted to admit.

That afternoon when we got back to the cabin we were supposed to write about what we feared most at Turning Pines. I hated that the only thing I could come up with was Ben.

I was terrified of the part of me that Ben was able to get to, which more and more was feeling like the soft part of a clam; before Aaron, I was all closed up and no one could get in there. Ben could easily. Maybe other boys would also be able to. Maybe I would never be able to s.h.i.+eld myself again.

Troyer grabbed her pad back and wrote, Get dressed. Let's go.

”We better not be going over to the boys' cabin,” I said. ”I'll never hear the end of that,” I continued, though I'm not sure why.

She grabbed the pad she had given me and scribbled, I'm not stupid.

”Hey,” I said, but she was right. It had been stupid when Nez went, when I went. There was no way in h.e.l.l I was ever going again. If I could avoid it, I was probably never speaking to Ben again.

But my guess was I couldn't avoid it.

I got dressed quickly and quietly, laced up my boots, and followed Troyer out of the cabin. She waited for me to step off the porch then closed the cabin door so lightly it looked like she was afraid it would burn her.

”Any chance we're breaking into the shower house?” I asked.

She wrote on her pad and showed it to me. Even better.

Nothing at that point would have been better than a shower-well, not to me, anyway. And from the smell coming off Troyer, she could have used one, too.