She wags her finger. “Oh, yes I dooooo.”
Suki ignores Donnie and keeps going. “Sean was talking to everyone. To Chase and Cate. To Harrison. To Dev. Ask Dev. He was standing right there.”
This is what Sean does. He rounds up the girls. And I sweep it up.
“Seriously. I’m gonna puke,” Donnie says, and tries to kneel down on the floor.
Heels click in and out of the bathroom. Anyone can see what’s going on with her if she falls to the ground.
“We need to sit. Get you some water, that’s all.”
I look at Suki and mouth to her: “Up.” We prop her on to the toilet. She nods.
My body tightens up. This dress. I look down at it. If Donnie pukes, it’s going to be covered in vomit.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She flings her arms out to the sides like a bird. “Can I tell you a secret first?”
Her neck shifts back and forth. Lips quiver and then she collapses in our arms. No grunt. No sign of distress. She’s just up one second—and the next second, whoosh. She’s deadweight.
Teachers will see. Adults will see that her face is gone from her face. She’s collapsed all over herself.
“What did you take tonight? Talk to me. What did you take?” I slap at her cheeks, and she peers up from all her hair, her bones sharp and eerie. I lift her the best I can, but her body droops over my dress.
“You’re fine,” Suki says really loud. “You’re fine. Just dehydrated. We just need to get you some water.”
I nod. She’s staving off the girls outside who’ve stopped in their clicking heels to see Donnie fall from her perch.
I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. All the girls who wished they were us, wished they had our friendship, Donnie Alperstein and Blythe Jensen.
Suki and I struggle to get Donnie to sit straight. My body wants to just collapse over her. This night. I’m so tired from this night.
Then someone, some sweet little bird, hands me a cup of water under the stall. I pass it to Donnie.
Donnie opens her eyes a little. She pulls at my hair. “Jensen, I don’t know if I can make it through this. I did too much vikes. Too much vikes and that champagne.”
“I’m gonna let go of you. Don’t fall on your head, bitch,” Suki says, and Donnie nods. She’s following instructions, so I take a breath. Suki opens her clutch and pulls out a vile of her crushed up Ritalin. Suki shakes some out on her hand. Donnie opens her mouth. Drooling on Suki’s hand, trying to lick Suki’s palm. “No, you’re going to snort it,” Suki says, her voice firm. “Now inhale. Snort it up your nose.”
I look over at Suki. Her eyes get crazy when she’s on task. Reminds me of when we used to play soccer together. Kick that ball, Sukes. STRIKE IT.
“Snort it up your nose.” Donnie laughs.
“She needs to get out of here,” Suki says.
“She needs rehab,” I say.
“I hear you, bitches,” she says. “I say they try to make me go to rehab and I said, no, no, no.” She’s singing Amy Winehouse now.
We sit and wait. Donnie nodding off. I give her sips of the water. Me and Suki pushing her back against the wall to straighten her up. And then it happens. Donnie’s face fills back up with pink. She’s alive again. Awake. A spirit. A person. The music vibrates into the bathroom. BUM BUM BUM BUM. BUM BUM BUM BUM.
“You’re both my best friends,” Donnie says. “You know that, right? Not Cate. Cate is a slut.”
Suki bursts out laughing. I start laughing. Relief. It’s working.
Donnie stops and stands up by herself. We walk out of the bathroom quickly, not even looking in the mirror or at the idiots who are going to talk about this like wildfire tomorrow.
My mind off this emergency. One down, another one to go. Now Sean.
It’s always Sean.
30
ALI
Raj drops me off at my house. Just the two of us in that old station wagon. I text Sammi to apologize for the millionth time. She forgives me because she always forgives me. How many apologies would Sammi accept? Apparently, quite a few.
I know Raj is going to tell me that I need to talk to someone. Or an even worse feeling, that he’ll tell me I need to report it.
He doesn’t say any of that. He just sits there. Patient. Patient Raj. How can he be so patient?
“You know sometimes I go to this jujitsu class.”
“Okay. You want me to go to jujitsu with you and beat people up?” I belt out a laugh. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Raj.”
“I’m not pretending to.”
“But you do—don’t you? Don’t you always know what to say?”
“One day I’m going to tell you something stupid.”
“Two plus two is ten. Something like that?”
“Right. Exactly. And you’re going to be so disappointed in me.”
“I’ll never be disappointed in you,” I say.
Our gaze lingers. Like the kind of gaze that happens before you kiss someone. So I look away first. I push that feeling down. Don’t let it out. Don’t let the feelings show. Push it way down until you can’t feel. Until it’s like you’re not even there.
“Raj,” I say. “Did I tell you too much?”
“Never,” he says. “You could never tell me too much.”
* * *
Later that night I text Blythe.
I’m sorry I said that— I don’t know what came over me.
It’s a lie. But I need to get the apology out.
I wait for her answer back. Sit there watching my phone. Wanting her to forgive me. To understand.
But she waits a full day. Makes me pay for what I’ve done. Then she texts me:
Moving on
31
BLYTHE
When I get home, my mother is in her bed upstairs. Her drugs in action. There’s no waking her up.
My father isn’t home. He never is.
I take off my dress. The floor length part
