Some Girls Are

Some Girls Are Page 32

“I hope it’s worth it.”

I turn. Michael. And the way he says it is so damning, so disgusted.

“It’s worth it,” I whisper.

It’s for him. He shakes his head and walks away. I force myself down the stairs and past Anna and everyone while they’re distracted. I don’t feel like going straight to an empty house, so I wander around town for a while.

Almost every place in Hallowell is the same kind of unremarkable, except for Josh’s place. I stay away from that side of town and turn onto Hainsworth. Jeanette lives here. Donnie. I can see his home from here. It’s all gray siding with a weak garden out front, but every little bit of it is immaculately kept.

And his black convertible is in the center of it all.

He found it.

I take a quick look around. The place looks empty. I approach the house, his car, and I take it all in. It should be fantastic. I should love the ugly lines I made down his convertible. I should love that everyone else can see them, too. I should love that there’s a crack down the windshield that wasn’t there before. I don’t. It makes me miss Michael.

I circle the car, and when I return to the scratches, I reach out. I want to see what that kind of damage feels like. I press my fingers against the metal body.

The front door bursts open.

“Get the fuck away from my car.”

“I told you it’d turn up,” I say.

Donnie stands there, raging on the steps. I edge over to the front of the car and bring my hand to the windshield. Baiting him should feel good. It doesn’t.

“Get away from my car,” he repeats. I run my hand over the fresh crack on the windshield. “Stop it.”

I trace the line in the glass down to the windshield wipers.

“Stop—”

“Oh, sorry, you want me to stop? Hey, tell Anna. Go and tell Anna that you tried to rape me. Tell her.”

His mouth hangs open, like he can’t decide to step forward or back into the house, and I hate the silence, so I kick the convertible as hard as I can.

“Afton—”

“That’s what you get, Donnie.” I kick it again. “For what you did to me.”

He turns purple-faced and makes his way over to me. A car rolls down the street, slowing as it passes. I take the opportunity to move out, and when I glance back, he’s heading back inside his house, slamming the door shut behind him.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Eight-thirty. Probably everyone is well on their way to wasted. Designated driver. Boring.

I used to really hate the last party of the season, even if I drank until I was blind. They were always bigger. Louder. More drinks, dancing, drugs, fucking, more fucking around. Last year, Henry totaled his car while driving home. He broke his collarbone.

I change into a black hoodie and jeans—incognito. Running into Anna is inevitable, but I don’t have to make it easy for her to spot me.

“I think it’s nice,” Mom says as I make my way to the door. I stop and turn to her. She smiles. “That you and Josh can still be friends. Have fun at the party.”

“Yeah,” I say.

When I reach Josh’s house, instant sensory overload. Too many sights, sounds, and smells. It’s chilly out, but all the bodies give the illusion of warmth. I pass these crazy girls dancing on the front lawn. They’re in the moment, and the moment is them, and the moment is perfect. The party is here and it’s perfect. Music. Cars. Friends.

I’m not feeling it.

I step into the heart of the scene, and in a minute flat, a bottle of beer is pressed into my hand by some kid who doesn’t know I’m the designated driver. It’s tempting, but I leave it unopened. I have a headache. Already. I cross my arms and stay on the lawn, bored. After a while, Anna, Kara, and Jeanette march up. “Anyone need a ride home?” I ask.

“Party’s barely started,” Anna says. “We’re not over it yet.”

“Where’s Marta? Is she over it yet?”

“Strip Monopoly,” Kara says.

“Hey—” Jeanette stumbles forward and relieves me of my beer. “You can’t have this. You’re the designated driver.” She cracks it open and pounds it. For a second, I envy her. “This is the best party ever.”

Anna rips the bottle from her hands. “Jesus, Jeanette. It’s too early for you to be this wasted. If Regina has to drive you home before midnight, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Why?” I ask her. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want to be here.” Anna takes a sip of the stolen beer. “So I want to keep you here as long as possible.”

Jeanette reaches for the bottle. “Give. Get your own.”

“Kara, get me a beer out of the cooler,” Anna says.

“But it’s around the other side of the house,” Kara whines.

“I don’t care. Get me one.”

She goes. It’s pathetic how she goes.

“Nailed Josh yet?” I ask Anna.

“Later,” she says. “Do you think I should go back there?” I shrug. “I don’t give a damn.”

She sighs. “Do you think he’d think I was needy? I didn’t call him today or anything. If I went back there, do you think he’d mind? I don’t want to be overbearing.”

” You don’t want to be overbearing?” God, I wish I had a drink. “That’s funny.”

“You should maybe try to get on my good side,” she snaps. “It doesn’t have to be totally miserable for you all the time.”

“It’s never been anything but, Anna.” I study her. “So you really like him, huh?”

Of course she likes him. And the question throws her off, like I want it to. She opens her mouth and flushes, and it’s these small things, these gives that Anna works hard to keep off her face that could be her downfall if anyone just looked closely enough.

But I was the only one who did.

“Why?” she asks. “Going to steal him back?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Watch out.”

She gives me a look like she can’t stand being around me, and then she goes, which is totally great. I watch a group of sophomores force a poor frosh to take an impossible sip from a bottle of rye. Jeanette sucks on the beer. After a while, Kara returns with the one Anna sent her for.

“Where the hell did Anna go?” she demands.

I shrug.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“I think she forgot about you.”

“Fuck off, Regina.”

I cross my arms and stare up at the sky. No stars. Nothing. “I’m still not sorry, Kara,” I tell her.

“And that’s exactly why you’re there,” she says. “And I’m here now.”

“Right. Enjoy your moment. Doesn’t that bother you? You’ll probably go your whole life and it won’t be this good again. You’ve totally peaked.”

She stares at me. “What if it’s your moment?”

“This isn’t my moment,” I tell her. “This is my penance.”

“For what? For Liz? For Michael?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Shut up.”

“Isn’t it funny how you tried to get back in good with Michael and Liz, and it didn’t work? I think that means if this is your penance for anything,” she says, “it’s your penance for what you did to me, and it will be until you’re sorry.”

“You think I’d give you that? After all this?”

Her face turns red. “You didn’t even have a good reason. You didn’t even have one single good reason to treat me the way you did.”

“I didn’t know I needed one of those.”

I leave her there. My stomach aches, aches, aches, and this is stupid. It’s stupid because I’m worried what Kara said is true. This is what I get until I pay up, but how can I have gone through everything I’ve gone through and still not be paid up? Sorry, sorry, sorry. I never want to apologize to her. Ever. I hate that idea. Hate it. I make my way around the house and find Josh lurking beneath a tree in the backyard away from the party and the bonfire. Anna-less. He’s nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels. He takes a swig and I try to pass him unnoticed, but he grabs my arm.

“Regina, wait—”

I pull away from him. “You can’t possibly need a ride home.”

He doesn’t say anything. We stare at each other. It’s weird. I move to leave again, but he grabs me by the arm again. His hand stays on me this time.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

He takes a long pull from the bottle. The party sounds fill the air. He shakes his head and bites his index finger before speaking. “Regina, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Shut up.” I step back, my heart sinking to my stomach. “Who told you—”

“Anna was laughing about it with Kara,” he says. “She said you said he tried to rape you.” He looks away from me. “That’s what you wanted to tell me that night—”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.”

“Fuck. I mean— fuck:’ He takes another swig of the Jack. “I can’t fucking believe this. Fuck. I am so—”

“Choke on it, Josh.”

He flinches. “Seriously—don’t. Like—” He twitches, like he can’t stand himself, and I’m glad, that makes me happy because he should know that feeling at least once. “I can’t stop thinking about it. It changes everything—it totally—”

“Are you going to tell Anna it’s the truth?” I ask. He looks away. No. He’s not. “Then it doesn’t change anything.”

He closes his eyes and leans back against the tree. This is what I wanted this whole time, and it doesn’t change anything. No one will ever benefit from knowing this. It’s now completely worthless information, designed to make people feel bad.