Part 9 (1/2)

She's brave. When that window-”

”Quit it, Gillian. You're those things. You're brave and funny and-well, to o honorable for your own good. You tried to give Tanya another chance.” He let out a breath. ”But, anyway; you might have guessed, we're finished. I t old Tanya that. And now . . .” His voice changed. Suddenly he laughed, soun ding as if some burden had fallen off him. ”Well, would you like me to driv e you to the party Sat.u.r.day night?”

Gillian laughed, too. ”I'd like it. I'd love it.” (Oh, Angel-thank you!) She was very happy.

The rest of the week was wonderful. Every day she wore something daring and flattering scavenged from the depths of her closet. Every day she seemed t o get more popular. People looked up when she walked into a room, not just meeting her eyes, but trying to catch her eye. They waved to her from a distance. They said h.e.l.lo up and down the halls. Everyone seemed glad to talk to her, and pleased if she wanted to talk to them. It was like being on a s kyrocket, going higher and higher.

And, always, her guide and protector was with her. Angel had come to seem l ike a part of her, the most savvy and ingenious part. He provided quips, sm oothed over awkward situations, gave advice about who to tolerate and who t o snub. Gillian was developing an instinct for this, too. She was gaining c onfidence in herself, finding new skills every day. She was literally becom ing a new person.

She didn't see much of Amy now. But Amy had Eugene, after all. And Gillia n was so busy that she never even got to see David alone.

The day of the party she went to Houghton with Amanda the Cheerleader and Steffi the Singer. They laughed a lot, got whistled at everywhere, and sho pped until they were dizzy. Gillian bought a dress and ankle boots-both ap proved by Angel.

When David picked her up that night, he let out a soft whistle himself.

”I look okay?”

”You look . . .” He shook his head. ”Illegal, but also sort of spiritual. How d o you do that?”

Gillian smiled.

Macon the Wallet's house was the house of a rich guy. A fleet of artsy reinde er made out of some kind of white twigs and glowing with tiny lights graced t he lawn. Inside, it was all high ceilings and track lighting, oriental rugs, old china, silver. Gillian was dazzled.

(My first real party! I mean, my first Popular Party. And it's even kind of, so rt of for me.) (Your first real party, and it's all for you. The world is your oyster, kid. Go o ut and crack it.) Macon was coming toward her. Other people were looking. Gillian paused in the doorway of the room for effect, aware that she was making an entranc e-and loving it.

Her outfit was designer casual. A black minidress with a pattern of purple f lowers so dark it could hardly be distinguished. The soft, crepey material d ung to her like a second skin. Matte black tights. And of course the ankle b oots. Not much makeup; she'd decided on the fresh, soft look for her face. S he'd darkened her lashes just enough to make the violet of her eyes a startl ing contrast.

She looked stunning . . . and effortless. And she knew it very well.

Macon's hooded eyes roved over her with something like suppressed hunger.

”How's it going? You're looking good.”

”We feel good,” Gillian said, squeezing David's arm.

Macon's eyes darkened. He looked at the intersection of Gillian's hand and David's arm as if it offended him.

David looked back dispa.s.sionately, but a sort of wordless menace exuded f rom him. Macon actually took a step back. But all he said was, ”Well, my parents are gone for the weekend, so make yourself at home. There should be food somewhere.”

There was food everywhere. Every kind of munchy thing. Music blasted from the den, echoing all over the house. As they walked in, Cory greeted them with, ”Hey, guys! Grab a gla.s.s, it's going fast.”

When he'd said that he would round up a keg last week, Gillian had foolish ly misheard it as ”a cake.” Now she understood. It was a keg of beer and e verybody was drinking.

And not just beer. There were hard liquor bottles around. One guy was lying on a table with his mouth open while a girl poured something from a rectangu lar bottle into it.

”Hey, Jill, this is for you.” Cory was trying to give her a plastic gla.s.s with foam overflowing the top.

Gillian looked at him with open scorn. She didn't need Angel's help for this.

”Thanks, but I happen to like my brain cells, Maybe if you had more respect for yours you wouldn't be flunking biology.”

There was laughter. Even Cory laughed and winced.

”Right on,” Daryl the Rich Girl said, raising a can of diet Barq's root beer to Gillian in salute. And David waved Cory away and reached for a c.o.ke.

n.o.body tried to pressure them and the guy on the table even looked a littl e embarra.s.sed. Gillian had learned that you could pull anything off if you were cool enough, composed enough, and if you didn't back down. The feeli ng of success was much more intoxicating than liquor could have been.

(How about that? Pretty good, huh? Huh? Huh?) (Oh ... oh, yeah, fine.) Angel seemed to deliberate. (Of course, it does say, ”Wine maketh the heart of man glad. . . .”) (Oh, Angel, you're so silly. You sound like Cory!) Gillian almost laughed ou t loud.

Everything was exciting. The music, the huge house with its opulent Christm as decorations. The people. All the girls threw their arms around Gillian a nd kissed her as if they hadn't seen her in weeks. Some of the boys tried, but David warned them off with a look.

That was exciting, too. Having everyone know she was together with David Bl ackburn, that he was hers. It put her status through the ceiling.

”Want to look around?” David was saying. ”I can show you the upstairs; Mac on doesn't care.”

Gillian looked at him. ”Bored?”

He grinned. ”No. But I wouldn't mind seeing you alone for a few minutes.”They went up a long carpeted staircase lined with oil paintings. The rooms up stairs were just as beautiful as downstairs: palatial and almost awe inspirin g.

It put Gillian in a quiet mood. The music wasn't as loud up here, and the co ol marble gave her the feeling of being in a museum.

She looked out a window to see velvet darkness punctuated by little twinklin g lights.

”You know, I'm glad you didn't want to drink back there.” David's voice beh ind her was quiet.

She turned, trying to read his face. ”But . . . you were surprised?”

”Well-it's just sometimes now you seem so adult. Sort of worldly.”

”Me? I mean-I mean you're the one who seems like that.” And that's what you like in girls, she thought.

He looked away and laughed. ”Oh, yeah. The tough guy. The wild guy. Tanya and I used to party pretty hard.” He shrugged. ”I'm not tough. I'm just a small- town guy trying to get through life. I don't look for trouble. I try to run f rom it if I can.”

Gillian had to laugh herself at that. But there was something serious in Davi d's dark eyes.

”I admit, it sort of had a way of finding me in the past,” he said slowly. ”And I've done some things that I'm not proud of. But, you know ... I'd like to cha nge that-if it's possible.”

”Sort of like a whole new side of you that wants to come out.”

He looked startled. Then he glanced up and down her and grinned. ”Yeah. Sor t of like that.”

Gillian felt suddenly inspired, hopeful. ”I think,” she said slowly, trying t o put her ideas together, ”that sometimes people need to-to express both side s of themselves. And then they can be ... well, whole.”

”Yeah. If that's possible.” He hesitated. Gillian didn't say anything, because she had the feeling that he was trying to. That there was some reason he'd br ought her up to talk to her alone.

”Well. You know something weird?” he said after a moment. ”I don't feel exac tly whole. And the truth is-” He looked around the darkened room. Gillian co uld only see his profile. He shook his head, then took a deep breath. ”Okay, this is going to sound even dumber than I thought, but I've got to say it.