Deadgirl

I fell in a heap and threw my arms over my face. I wanted to agree with her—but agreeing with her meant surrendering my shields. It meant putting aside my cynicism and allowing hope in. But hope had fangs, something I’d figured out last year. Hope was great until it was ripped away, leaving a wound much deeper than loneliness could.

I looked up at Morgan, who stood triumphantly with her arms crossed over her chest. I wanted to hug her and punch her all at once.

“You’re grounded,” I said. “And whatever mind trick you pulled on your mom isn’t going to work for going to the Set.”

Morgan collapsed into my office chair and bit her lip. She made a hmmm sound, deep in her chest.

“What did you say to your mom, anyway?”

Morgan smiled, though her face still looked thoughtful and far-away.

“Just told her that you and me and Wanda were having a study party here,” she said. “And I told her I’d call her every hour from your house phone to check in.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s not actually far from the truth. Still, how are you going to manage that miraculous feat tomorrow?”

“So you’re going?”

I dropped my arms back over my face. I wanted to vomit. Like, the actual urge to vomit gripped me. I took a deep breath, and Morgan squealed.

“If you can figure out your grounding, I’m in,” I said. Vomit. Here comes vomit.

Morgan tapped her chin, “I’m working on it.”

We burned a few minutes scheming, but gave up, temporarily, in frustration.

We watched old sitcom reruns in silence for a while, but I couldn’t focus. My mind wouldn’t settle on one topic—it jumped violently between possibilities that seemed both in reach and totally impossible.

I thought of Zack’s face, too. Well, the lip part of that face, specifically.

Wanda broke us out of our stupors with eyes full of tears. She burst into my room like a hurricane and slammed the door behind her. Morgan and I both sat up. Wanda collapsed to her knees, her arms tucked tightly against her chest.

Morgan and I exchanged glances, both paralyzed by the hysterics.

“Oh no…” Wanda moaned, her chin tucked against her chest.

I jumped off the bed and slid to her side. Dread twisted my stomach into a long chain of knots. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she jerked like I’d shocked her. She turned her long tear-streaked face up to mine.

“What’s wrong?”

Wanda shook her head and shot her eyes back to her navel.

“Wanda!” Morgan shouted.

Morgan jumped off the bed and knelt in front of her. She didn’t look sympathetic—she looked angry. I leaned back a little.

“Wanda, what is it?” Morgan demanded.

Wanda caught her tone, too, and looked up sheepishly.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said. “I know this is stupid. I feel so stupid for acting this way.”

“Don’t feel stupid,” Morgan said. “Just let us help.”

We sat in silence for a while, waiting for her to work up the courage. Finally, she sucked in a deep shuddering breath and turned her face up.

“It’s Tyler,” Wanda said.

I tried to hold my tongue, but the words came out before my brain could okay them.

“Tyler? Wanda! He’s a scum bag.”

Wanda’s lip trembled and her body threatened to shake apart. I felt awful—that was the second time that day I’d lashed out at her without thinking. Sometimes I wondered if I kept her around to beat up on. I’m an awful human.

Still, Tyler was a scum bag. Just a loser who Wanda was hung up on, primarily because he gave her the male attention no one else did. She wanted them to be dating, and maybe some twisted part of her thought they were—Tyler was content to ignore her in public and make out with her in private. Luckily, Wanda was either too smart or too shy to let him get away with anything more.

I did sympathize, somewhat. If Zack were meaner and showing interest in me, I couldn’t say I’d act any differently. Girls suck. Well, guys suck too, I guess.

Wow. Fifteen-years-old and already bitter. Time to sign up for the Cat-A-Month Club and buy blocky black shoes.

“You don’t know,” Wanda said. “He’s n-nice, when it’s just us.”

I rolled my eyes, and luckily Wanda wasn’t looking. Morgan punched me in the arm anyway. She hit hard, too—all that volleyball spiking made her arms into little skinny pistons.

“What did he do?” Morgan asked. Her anger was returning. Her voice shook with it.

This wasn’t the usual protective-friend-shtick. I gave her a questioning look, but her blank face betrayed nothing. Wanda stared at Morgan like she was the bad cop and Wanda had indeed killed her own husband with an icepick.

“N-nothing. Nothing like you’re thinking,” Wanda said. “He called me after school and told me that…I asked him if we were going to the Winter Formal or not. I didn’t think he’d want to, of course. I just wanted to know for sure, and I kind of hoped…”

Her chin went back to her chest like she had a magnet in her face and a steel ribcage. Which, is an odd simile, I admit. Morgan’s anger didn’t relent at the sight, but mine did. I felt only pity.

“Well, he said no. He pretended like we were nothing. He said he’s going with Lisa Barnes. Stupid, skanky Lisa Barnes.”

Wanda growled and slammed her shoulders against the door behind her. It cheered me up a little, I realized. I’m no psychiatrist, I thought, but her anger seemed good. Right. Plus, Lisa Barnes was a skank.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Morgan said. She leaned down and pulled Wanda into her arms. Wanda sank into them like she had no bones.

“You’re better off,” I said. “Plus, I’m sure I’ll be flying solo for the dance. Why don’t you go with me?”

Wanda peeked out from Morgan’s curtain of spun-gold hair and offered a smile that was in critical condition at best. I gave her a lop-sided grin.

“What do ya say? This is an exploding offer, honey-child,” I said, throwing on an awful attempt at a Southern drawl. “I can’t wait all day. So many offers, so many suitors. Enough to give a girl an awful case of the vapors.”

I fluttered one hand at my face and laid the other across my forehead. My inevitable collapse onto the plush carpet felt authentic, I thought.

“Oh, shut up,” Wanda said, her voice breaking. “Of course I’ll go. Just stop being Southern.”

When she calmed down, she disappeared into the bathroom for a good half-an-hour to regain her composure and reapply. Mom looked to be cooking up some delivery, so we helped her sort through the drawer of menus and traded them between each other like baseball cards.

While we waited for our delivery smorgasbord, Wanda and I fiddled with printer settings and page spacing while Morgan rifled through my bookshelf. Wanda and I only ruined two of the fliers before we got the printer worked out. It chugged away, making robot sounds as I went to help Morgan with her selection. As I reached for Garth Nix’s Sabriel, Morgan’s phone let out one high-pitched beep.

We gave each other very serious looks before we both leaned over the phone to see the message.

So u coming or not? Tell Lucy popcorn on me. If it helps. Bring Daph or Sara 2.

Morgan raised an eyebrow and brought up a reply box to send back. She stared at me with her victorious grin. It tugged my face into a big stupid smile before too long.