Deadgirl

“Yes,” Morgan said, and I made a real concerted effort not to strangle her. Judas.

Morgan filled them in on the details about the sudden and inexplicable intrusion of Zack back into my life. As soon as they heard about The Plan, they clamored for a resolution.

“Well,” Morgan said, “Benny caught on pretty quickly to my intentions. He said Zack loves when your hair is down and also when you wear boots.”

“Thanks, but I don’t take fashion advice from Benny,” I said. “He wears all black and skinny jeans.”

“Technically it’s fashion advice from Zack,” Wanda corrected.

I flashed her a betrayed look.

“Skinny jeans are in, you know—” Sarah began.

“No,” Daphne snapped. “They make your feet huge and your butt enormous.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said.

“Swell,” Ms. Fleece said.

When I looked up, I realized Ms. Fleece had been standing in front of Daphne’s desk for some time, listening in. I clamped my mouth closed and felt my face go bright red.

“Sorry, Ms. Fleece,” Morgan whispered.

Ms. Fleece stared down at Daphne, who flashed her thousand-watt smile.

“Cute,” Ms. Fleece said. “Get your book out, Ms. Karras. You do remember books, right? English?”

I laughed, but Ms. Fleece turned her glare on me and I pulled out Lord of the Flies like I was a gunslinger at high noon.

“Good, good,” Ms. Fleece said, “Page fifty-six. Ms. Karras and Ms. Day can trade reading out loud for the rest of the class.”

I groaned and slumped in my chair. This was going to be a long fifty-five minutes.

Fourth period Art went more smoothly than English, but it was just me and Wanda and I can’t imagine I was great company. My brain vibrated in my skull, half-formed thoughts and hopes zinging through it. The static made thinking impossible—thirty minutes into the class my sketch of a fruit bowl consisted of a half-circle and a straight line. My pencil ticked back and forth in my hand, in time with the clicking of the broken cog in my mind that turned all of my engines back toward Zack. I knew how repulsive I was being, but I couldn’t help it.

I hadn’t thought of Zack in so long, the breaking of my Zack-embargo was like driving a metal spike through a dam. All the built up water exploded through the tiny crack and drowned me in a river of stupid.

The lunch bell bleated too quickly. I looked up, stunned, sporting what had to be cow-face. Wanda transmitted quiet annoyance on all channels.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t apologize so much,” Wanda said, mimicking my own words to her. It wasn’t terribly funny.

“Cute,” I said. “Walk me to lunch and tell me something inflammatory. I mean really piss me off.”

“Why?”

“You know, like, an emotional slap in the face. To wake me.”

“Can’t I just…really slap you?”

I gave her a sideways glance, “We’ll see how bad it gets.”

“Okay,” Wanda said, and her tone made me wonder whether she was joking or not.

As we left the class, Wanda turned toward me, her face blank.

“The sweater I borrowed from you last week got stained with spaghetti sauce.”

I sucked in a tight, high breath. Wanda grabbed my arm and led me out of the door.

The lunch crowd was assembled in the quad in their usual spots.

We lunched on a low wall in the shade of blocky juniper bushes, next to the central statue of Johnny Rebel, our anachronistic, out of place, but much beloved mascot. The 'we' never changed—Daphne, Sara, Morgan, Jamie, and Will. They were in their usual configuration. I thought again about the odd mechanical sameness of high school.

Wanda broke off from me and skirted toward our group. Her speed and strange backward glance made me halt. It was the same look the guy in the toll booth gave Sonny Corleone before hitting the deck.

“Wow,” a voice said behind me, making me jump. “I didn’t suddenly turn into the Hulk did I?”

I turned around. Zack stood just behind me, his hands in his pockets. I gave him a wide, if admittedly brainless, smile. He returned it with his patented half-smirk.

“Why? Why do you ask?”

“Wanda ran away like I was going to grind her bones to make bread.”

“Are you?”

Zack shrugged, “I prefer tortillas. Mind if I take a seat?”

“With,” I said, but choked it off. My voice was abnormally high, and so I dropped it back down again, “With the guys?”

I waved over my shoulder toward the girls.

“Sure,” Zack said.

I hated him for a second right then—Zack never seemed nervous. If he didn’t like me, then he didn’t mind putting me in an awkward situation. If he did like me, then he had the poker face of a world champ. Ugh.

I led Zack over to the group, trying not to look freaked out and thus broadcasting my freak-out on all channels. Morgan and Wanda picked up on it—they flashed me tiny sympathetic smiles. Daphne had her hands over her head and her voice raised in anger, talking to Jamie and Will. She wouldn’t have noticed a cow bell around my neck. Sara seemed as enthralled with her fervent speech as the boys were.

“Hey, guys,” I said. “Zack has a proposal.”

I gestured to him like Vanna White and stepped aside. He gave me an unreadable look and took a step forward. Daphne stopped mid speech and turned. Sara and the boys followed suit.

“Well,” Zack said. “I heard the plight of fair Morgan.”

He pointed an open hand at her, and I felt blood pulse behind my eyes.

“And I have a fairly unorthodox but unquestionably exciting plan. Who’s in?”

Daphne’s hand shot up toward the sky. Sara gave Zack an incredulous look, and Morgan raised her hand with marked reluctance. Neither Jamie nor Will looked excited by another male stalking up to their pack.

“I need at least three,” Zack said, turning to me. “For a consensus.”

I raised my hand at the wrist—my arm didn’t leave my side.

“All right,” Zack said. “Daphne, how well can you climb a trellis?”

Daphne flashed a wide smile and sat up.

“I already love this plan,” she said. “I’m for it. I’m totally for it.”

I shook my head, and we all crowded around Zack to hear his scheme. Zack tucked in close to me as he talked, his right side pressed up against me. My fears for the plan vanished. Then again, I didn’t hear most of it either, and my excitement probably wasn’t related to Zack’s strategic mastery, but I didn’t care. I listened to his voice, stared at the ground, and focused as hard as I could on the closeness of his body.

I knew right then, that tonight would be the happiest night of my life. The irony is that it was.

Chapter Three

Waking Up Is Hard to Do

The preparations for the night went in a blur. Hair, makeup. The skirt Benny talked about, the boots. I didn’t care about the source of the fashion advice anymore. I didn’t care about anything. I was the center of the universe—I was a flaring star in the night, burning brighter as I neared the explosive finale I had no comprehension of.

Morgan and Wanda were at my house after school. We all dressed and glammed up together, giggling, and laughing in fits of nervous energy. Daphne showed up before long, her route slightly