Part 16 (1/2)
”Home sick,” I say.
”Sure you were.”
”Where's Lee?”
”There.” She points sideways, not looking up. Lee's sitting on a rock by the auditorium with Alice. They're sharing one of those big cafeteria cookies and laughing like their lives are just so f.u.c.king hilarious.
”He called you nine billion times yesterday.”
”So?”
”So, you didn't call him back.” She doesn't sound angry, or particularly impa.s.sioned. She sounds over it. ”What do you expect?”
I eat some of Kate's candy bar, picking pieces of brittle chocolate off the tin wrapper. I think about losing Lee. I can't tell if I care. I feel exhaustingly blank, as if someone wiggled up inside me and sucked out my soul with a vacuum cleaner.
I go see Griffin in Guidance. Because Murphy suggested it. Because my head might implode.
”I'm going crazy,” I tell her.
We're in an air-conditioned room with no windows. Griffin's wearing a silk tank and thin cardigan. She looks reasonable. Levelheaded. She says, ”Crazy, how?”
”Like, I dunno, like, crazy. Like, my thoughts won't stop.”
She uncrosses then recrosses her legs.
”They're not good thoughts, though, you know?” I say. ”My boyfriend's mom, she, like, d.i.c.ked around a lot last year. Like, had an affair? I think I'm like that. I think I'm fickle.” My eyes well up.
Griffin grabs a tissue box off her desk. Hands it to me. ”Okay.” A beat. ”Okay, you know, though, you can be whoever you want to be. You realize that, right? You're in control, Adrienne.” She grins rea.s.suringly. ”You choose your path.”
”This doesn't-” I wave both hands around, frustrated, super confused. ”This doesn't feel like a choice,” I say. ”I'm not me anymore. I don't know where I went.”
After school, I walk to my bus thinking of all the things I once hated that now I genuinely love. Gold jewelry. Rod Stewart. Tuna fish sandwiches. And Lee? I loved him last month and last year, but now? What's real? I wish I could tell, but I can't anymore.
”. . . they found a boot.”
Someone says this. Who? I whip around and find two slight freshman girls in hats and bangles, gnawing their hair.
”A boot?”
”Yeah, black. The dad identified it.”
”Where?”
”Beach. Low tide.”
My heart goes berserk. ”Whose boot?” I demand, interjecting as if it's my business.
Both turn, blinking. One shrugs, says, ”I don't-”
”Whose dad?” I ask, not letting her finish.
”Dakota Webb's.”
Everything inside sinks. ”How do you know that?”
”My brother,” says the one wearing the floppy felt hat. ”He's LAPD.”
My vision blurs. My neck is on fire. I have to brace myself against the bus to keep myself from falling.
”Was she your friend?” asks the one with the bracelets and overbite. ”Dakota,” she says, squinting. ”Were you two close?”
I tune them out, turning away. A hand creeps up my arm. ”Hi,” Julian says. He smells like cigarettes and soap.
”They found a boot,” I blurt. ”A girl's boot on the beach.”
”I know.”
”You know?”
His mouth is tight. ”Talk of the town,” he says glumly.
We watch each other. ”This means something, right?” More staring. Julian looks so regular. Regular face, regular day.
”Come on,” he says, pulling me forward. ”I'm taking you home.”
Sam's out, so we go to my room. We lie on my silky bedspread. On my nightstand is half a gla.s.s of water, Jane Eyre, and my blue plastic retainer case. Julian fingers the fringe around the neck of Dakota's dress.
”It's not mine,” I say, even though I know he knows it's not.
”Looks nice on you, though.” His hand is on my neck. His hand is in my hair. For the first time in forever I actually feel something. It's fuzzy and kinetic and it takes me a second to identify. He tugs my ponytail, lightly, like he's kidding, and that's when it hits me.
”Adrienne?”
This is noisy, dizzying l.u.s.t.
We're kissing. He's on top of me. His hands are on my face and he's shaking. I'm shaking. He tastes like Chap Stick and cigarettes and something sour. I like it. I kiss harder, tug his s.h.i.+rt off, wrap my thighs around his hips. This feels like a fit. Like, right. Like a ma.s.sive, monumental relief. I want to stay this way-Julian smashed into me, his torso locked between my legs-forever. Dakota's dress is shoved up around my chest and my underwear is in a ball by my feet. I undo Julian's pants, push his boxers down. My head is off the bed so he grabs it with two hands and makes me look at him-his eyes gla.s.sy and wide, and I know what he's thinking because I'm thinking the same thing myself: Who the h.e.l.l are you, Adrienne Knox?