LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

abandoning me to resolve this problem on my own. Sometimes Kristen can be such a bitch. If she wasn’t my best friend, I’d probably hate her.

      Next to me, Brendon curls his hand over the cap of my shoulder and leans in close to my ear. Normally I’d be thrilled because a) Brendon Ryan is touching me, b) his near proximity means I can smell him, and c) BRENDON RYAN IS TOUCHING ME OH MY GOD (!!!), but I can’t even savor the moment because I’m too panicked. Also, tonight he reeks too much of beer and cloying cologne. This is a disappointment because I always assumed that a perfect creature such as Brendon would smell of spring rain and mountain breezes and other heavenly aromas.

      “Hey,” he says, his breath warm against my ear, and oh, yeah, that’s enough to send my already racing pulse into overdrive. “I bet if you go down the hall it’ll be quieter.”

      It’s a no-brainer suggestion, really, but in that moment, I feel like Brendon is a certified genius for coming up with it. Maybe it’s due to the fact that when I’m anywhere within a six-foot radius of Brendon I lose all ability to think coherently. Well, okay, the Jell-O shot I kicked back ten minutes ago probably isn’t helping matters.

      “Yes,” I finally choke out once I realize I’ve spent the last several seconds staring into his brain-melty hazel eyes with my mouth hanging open like the love-struck idiot I am. “Good idea.”

      I push myself off the couch, stumble past the cluster of barely clothed freshman girls writhing to some electro dance remix—nasty—and don’t stop until I’ve reached the end of the hallway. Of course, even down here I can feel vibrations from the stereo’s pulsating bass. My phone stopped ringing a while ago. Great. Now I need to come up with an excuse to explain why I didn’t answer Mom’s call right away. One that does not involve divulging that I’m at a New Year’s Eve party with a bunch of intoxicated minors.

      It’s so stupid. One lousy grade and my parents act like it’s the end of the world. A D- in geometry is not going to ruin my entire life. But of course they don’t see it that way. The only reason I was allowed over to Kristen’s at all was under the pretense that we’d be babysitting her younger cousins. If Mom finds out what’s really going on, there’ll be hell to pay.

      I open the hall closet and lock myself inside; at least the door blocks some of the sound from the raging party. My phone starts ringing again—Mom, of course. I push aside a broom handle and answer it with the most nonchalant hello I can muster.

      “Chelsea,” she says, and by the way she says my name alone, I can perfectly picture the pinched expression on her face. “Why didn’t you pick up before?”

      “Um…” I rack my brain for the first believable excuse. “My phone was at the bottom of my bag, and I couldn’t find it in time. You know my purse…it’s like a black hole.”

      “Uh-huh,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s skeptical or if I’m just paranoid.

      I perch awkwardly on the edge of a cardboard box, keeping one eye on the door. “So, what’s up?”

      “I just thought I’d ask if you could pick up a gallon of milk before you drive home tomorrow morning.” She pauses. “How is the babysitting going?”

      “Fine,” I say, though of course as soon as the word leaves my mouth, something crashes in the hallway. I cringe and press a hand to my forehead. This is just perfect.

      “What was that?”

      I recover without missing a beat. “Oh, just one of the kids causing trouble,” I say. “Probably should’ve skipped the candy after dinner—sugar overload.” I let out a laugh and hope it doesn’t come out too forced. “Actually I should probably go help Kristen wrangle them before they destroy the house.”

      “All right,” Mom says, so oblivious I feel kind of bad. But only for a second. Then I’m just relieved that she actually buys my story. “Just make sure to pick up the milk tomorrow.”

      “Right. The milk. Got it.” I need to wrap up this call ASAP before someone gives me away. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

      Mom says, “Have a good night, sweetie,” before hanging up. And I’m in the clear.

      Or, almost. I wriggle out of the closet and shut the door behind me, yanking my skirt down and raking my hands through my hair. I spent two hours wrestling with a flat iron to make it straight, and it’s already getting all poofy and gross. Great. I try to smooth it down as best I can, cursing genetics for the millionth time in my life for not gifting me with thin, silky hair like Kristen’s.

      “Chelsea?”

      I whip around to see Tessa Schauer standing there, peering at me with raised, overly plucked eyebrows. Usually when Tessa looks at me it’s for approval, or else a little fearful, but right now there’s just mild curiosity written across her face.

      I don’t like it.

      “What?” I snap, and she cringes just the slightest bit. That’s better.

      All the bronzer in the world can’t hide her sudden blush. “I was just wondering what you were doing in the closet,” she says.

      “None of your business.” No way am I letting Tessa know I’m the kind of loser who needs permission from her parents to do anything. As far as she’s concerned, I do whatever I want, whenever I want.

      “Jeez, no need to bite my head off,” she says. “It was just a question.”

      “That’s funny, because I have a question for you,” I say. “What’s it like to stab your best friend in the back?”

      “What are you talking about?” she scoffs, but I can see the guilt flicker in her eyes. She’s not that smooth.

      “I know about you and Owen,” I tell her. Tessa’s eyes go wide, and I take a step closer. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

      She backs up, flustered. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lies. “Are you drunk?”

      “Don’t play dumb with me,” I retort. “What do you think Megan’s going to say when she finds out? Her boyfriend and her best friend. Talk about a knife in the back.”

      Finally Tessa drops the innocent act, her jaw tensing with anger. “She won’t believe you.”

      “Pictures don’t lie,” I point out.

      Realization dawns on her face. “You snooped on my phone.”

      I smirk at her. “You should be more careful with your indiscretions,” I say, and pull my phone from my pocket. “What was the point of pictures anyway? Were you going to post them to your Facebook and let Megan find out that way? Maybe I should save you the time and just forward them to her right now....” My thumb hovers over the keypad.

      Tessa dives for my phone, but I snatch it back out of reach. Does she seriously think she can wrestle it from me? She really is a low-class bitch.

      Now her anger gives way to panic. “Please, don’t tell her,” she begs. “It was so stupid of me, I know, but he said he was going to dump her anyway, and it was just a few times, and…” Her voice wavers. “Please, you can’t tell her—”

      “Chill out,” I snap, just so she’ll stop this sniveling display of desperation. The secondhand embarrassment is killing me. “You look so pathetic right now.”

      “I know you don’t like me, Chelsea,” she says, wiping away a stray tear from under one eye. “But please, don’t do this. Megan’s my best friend.”

      “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you stuck your tongue down her boyfriend’s throat.”

      Tessa flinches. “You can’t tell her,” she says again. “You can’t.”

      “Okay,” I say.

      “‘Okay’?” she echoes. Cautious optimism creeps into her voice.

Скачать книгу