I’m not used to this much attention, even when it’s good. I think I might be going more than a little crazy from it. Being invisible had its perks from time to time — at least I didn’t feel like everyone was watching me like they’re desperate to see what I might do next.
Briefly, I consider going to the library, but I don’t want to run into Jake. I’ve never seen him eat lunch in the cafeteria, so that has to be where he goes. We haven’t spoken since he stalked out of my house the night of the Founder’s Ball, and something tells me we never will again.
Can’t exactly blame him.
It’s almost a reprieve to hide in the upstairs girl’s bathroom after third period. Nobody ever comes up here, because the air-conditioner blew out after the winter and never got fixed. The slatted windows near the ceiling are the only source of ventilation.
Only burnouts come to this bathroom because they’ll claim any empty place to use for getting high, but they also won’t skip lunch. With the pipes dried out from disuse, it smells like sewer gas and ditch weed pretty much all the time.
I should have the place to myself for at least twenty minutes.
A burst of hot fetid air greets me as the wooden door creaks open. The smell isn’t so bad if you only breathe through your mouth.
Clearly, I’m willing to trade a lot for peace and quiet right now.
It takes a second for me to realize I’m not alone. Someone is crying in the last stall. I try to catch the door before it bangs shut, but I’m not quick enough. The sound echoes off the tile, and the sobbing immediately cuts off.
“Who’s out there,” a familiar voice demands.
It’s too late to sneak out of the bathroom, although if I run fast enough I might make it out in time. But my indecision costs me. The stall door slams open, and the only other person pathetic enough to hide out in the bathroom stumbles out.
Sophia Taylor.
Her blue eyes are bloodshot with smudged eyeliner. Her lipstick is spread across her face like she just swiped at it with the back of her hand. She looks like the horror movie version of a cheerleader, moments from spinning her head around in a full circle.
Alarm crosses her face when she realizes it’s me, then anger.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The old me would have turned tail and run. But a lot has changed since the last time Sophia and I faced off. “Hiding from everyone, obviously. You?”
Sophia opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, and then the expression on her face changes. Whatever words she planned to say are about to be accompanied by vomit.
I get close enough to the stall that I can see her bent over the yellow-tinged water, heaving her guts out. A very small part of me feels pity, but mostly I watch with clinical interest as she hurls chunks into a toilet that might not even flush when she’s done.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but the tear-stained face she turns toward me is bleak.
“Oh shit, you actually are?”
“Fuck off, Milbourne.”
I bite my tongue on a snappy response, something along the lines of how that’s what got her into this mess in the first place. As much as Sophia deserves to be knocked down a bit, I can’t think of anything worse than getting pregnant in high school. I know from experience what happens to women who end up with kids they never should have had in the first place.
The self-proclaimed queen of Deception High has never looked quite this pathetic. I should revel in it after everything she’s done to make my life miserable, but looking at her just makes me tired. There has been more than enough misery spread around this place over the years, I’m not going to add to it.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask. “Water or something.”
Sophia swipes the back of her hand across her mouth. Judging from the state of her lipstick, this isn’t the first time that she’s mopped herself up today. Makes me wonder how much time she spent in here, crying and puking.
Her voice comes out in an incredulous croak. “You’re really not going to say anything else? Even my own friends wouldn’t be able to resist a few catty remarks if they saw me like this. If anyone should be just loving this right now, it’s you.”
She isn’t wrong. I can’t deny that the part of me designed for schadenfreude is kicking up its heels at seeing her kneeling on this dirty floor while crouched over a toilet bowl.
“Graduation is in, like, three weeks,” I point out. “We’re all going to go off to college, get jobs, or whatever. We never have to think about the shit that happened in high school ever again. Bygones are bygones, and all that crap.”
“That doesn’t really work when you’re pregnant.” She groans and retches again, but nothing comes out. Her stomach must be empty. “I’m going to be thinking about high school every day for the next eighteen years. At least.”
“You have other options…”
She glares at me. “Not if I want to live with myself.”
I understood that, if I didn’t get anything else about her. Getting pregnant before I’m ready might be my worst nightmare, because I know what I would feel compelled to do if that happens. My mother turned her back on me when I needed her, I couldn’t bring myself to do the same thing.
I look away from her, unable to
