I SWIRL THE INCH OF WHISKEY IN MY TUMBLER, AND the ice cube clinks against the glass and slowly, slowly dilutes the amber into honey. I take a small sip and it burns the back of my throat in the way that only primo-quality whiskey can.
The DJ goes from a popular rap song to a snappy old jazz tune. He’s been mixing it up like that since I got here twenty minutes ago. It’s weird but it works. The kids who are grinding on each other on the dance floor transition into more jaunty shakes and shivers, and it turns the crackly song into something sexy and current. I nod my head to the beat, smile, and take another sip.
I have to admit it. The New Year’s Eve party is as epic as Ren promised it’d be. Which is saying something, because I’ve been burned plenty of times by Rennie’s overhype. Once, when we were eight, she made a big deal about inviting me to spend the weekend at her grandma’s “summer home on the river.” It turned out to be a retirement community on the edge of a sludgy creek. We both got ringworm when we held our noses and waded in up to our ankles in a case of double-dog dare.
I remembered that weekend while I was getting ready tonight. It felt good to focus on something nice from back in the day and not totally hate Rennie with all my being. I’m not forgiving her for the shit she put me through. I can’t flip the switch like that, even if I wanted to. But I definitely prefer a scab to a bleeding wound.
I touch my head and make sure my hair is still in place. It took me so damn long to get my finger waves to work. I had to wash my hair in the sink twice and start over. The whole time I was thinking . . . How good can a high school party actually be? I had no clue. Just like Mary, I’d never really been to one before.
I’ve heard about Rennie’s infamous parties for years. Rolled my eyes while other people told stories of her bashes rotten with pilfered booze and barely legal shenanigans. But tonight I have to hand it to her. Her party is truly, all-out, undiluted Rennie Holtz. Crystal punch bowls, vintage barware, linen napkins. The DJ, the bouncers, everyone in costume. And not lame versions of costumes either, the way some people phone it in for Halloween. All the invited guests have stepped up their game tonight. If I hadn’t done the damn finger waves, I would have looked like a jerk.
It’s insanely impressive, especially because it’s not like Rennie has the money to buy whatever she needs to do it up right. It must have taken serious work to pull off something so luxe on the cheap.
Rennie should do this for a living. Party planning, I mean. No joke. I’m going to tell her that when I see her.
As crazy as it is for me to admit: I’m actually happy I’m here.
The whole afternoon I steeled myself for the inevitable dirty looks, the “Why the eff is that piece of trash here?” whispers. Everyone knows Rennie and I have a past. And even though I’m dressed the part—my hair, a black slip, fishnets, and a silver cigarette case—they’d know I didn’t belong. Not really.
Turns out I didn’t have anything to worry about. Everyone’s been . . . nice to me. They’ve said “Whassup, Kat!” and “Happy New Year!” and “Yo, DeBrassio!” Some girls even hugged me. These are all people I haven’t talked to in forever. People I’ve ignored, I’ve iced out for the last four years. Everything’s thawed tonight.
Just like that.
I take another sip of my whiskey and push through the crowd toward the front of the gallery space. The plate-glass window is fogged with condensation, and I wipe at it so I can see outside. Where’s Mary? She should have been here by now. There’s a line of people trying to get in, kids shoving their hands into their blazers and girls shivering in whispery dresses. I catch myself grinning. They probably don’t know the password.
I feel something tickle my arm. A feather.
I look over and see Ashlin.
“Hello,” she says, slurry, and takes a dainty sip of her champagne out of a glass flute. Ashlin’s dress is short and completely covered in pale pink sequins. It’s skin tight, and her freaking huge boobs look like they’re going to spill right over the top. She has a black mole drawn on her left cheek, and her eyelids are bright with glitter.
“Yo,” I say, and shrug the strap of my slip back up onto my shoulder.
She tickles me again with a feather. It must have fallen off her purse. The purse looks like a pink baby chicken, tiny and covered with feathers. “Um, just curious, but does Rennie know you’re here?”
I stare her down. This freaking bimbo. Is she seriously that dumb? Does she think I would show up here if I wasn’t specifically invited?
But I haven’t seen Rennie tonight. Not yet, anyway. I get a knot in my stomach. I wonder if this isn’t a trick about to blow up in my face. That midnight surprise she wanted me here to see.
Suddenly I see Reeve and Lillia push out the front door.
What?
And then Rennie’s behind them, running after them. She’s quiet, not saying anything, but I can tell she’s upset. Reeve and Lillia are gone, and Rennie stops in the center of the dance floor. Nobody even notices her. Nobody except Ashlin and me.
Rennie magically turns to us and walks over, looking unsteady on her high heels. As she gets closer, her chin starts to quiver, and I know tears are about to drop. I take a step to the side to give her room to approach Ashlin.
“Ren!” Ashlin says brightly, because she’s an idiot. “Let’s dance!”
Rennie pushes right past Ashlin and practically falls into my arms. I glance behind me, trying to look out the window to see where Reeve and Lil went, but it’s fogged back up.
Ashlin is next to us, swaying drunkenly and looking confused. And then I see other people, people around the room, starting to notice us. Notice Ren.
“Kat. Lillia did it. Lillia’s the one who drugged him.” She can barely make the words. She is grabbing me tight with her fingertips. And she is shaking.
I pull her toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
On our way, we pass Alex. I smile politely, but Rennie spots him and says, “Your girl is a two-timing slut whore!” And Alex looks dumbfounded.
In the bathroom, I lock the door. I pour out what’s left of my whiskey and fill the cup full of tap water and hand it to her. “Now what the hell is going on?”
Rennie takes a few small sips, but with her tears, she almost chokes. “She knew. She knew I loved him and she stole him from me. That bitch gets everything she wants! How is that fair? How is that at all fair?”
I swallow the urge to tell Rennie about our plan. To confess to her that Lillia doesn’t actually want anything to do with Reeve. It would make it all better, stat. But I don’t say anything because . . . has Lillia gone rogue? I thought we were done with that shit after Lillia stood Reeve up for his mom’s open house. Did she figure out a new, better way to hurt Reeve? Maybe she hasn’t had a chance to tell us what it is yet.
“Calm down, calm down,” I say. “What were you talking about out there? What about . . . drugs?”
She looks up at me from the floor of the bathroom. Her eye makeup is two huge black smudges. She opens the bathroom sink cabinet and pulls out a stack of pictures. And there it is, a picture from homecoming. Two girls, arm in arm, smiling together. It takes me a minute to notice what’s happening in the background.
It’s Lillia slipping the liquid E into Reeve’s drink while he looks in the other direction.
I grab the towel rack to steady myself.
“I told him and he didn’t even care! He wants to be with her. They freaking ran off hand in hand!”
My head is spinning, and it’s way too fucking hot in here. “Ren, I don’t know what this proves,” I say, even though it basically proves everything.
She lets out a bitter bark of a laugh. “Look close. She’s got some kind of vial in her hand. It’s got to be liquid E. There’s only one place to get drugs like that. That piece-of-shit skank Kevin. He sells to the guys at the restaurant. I bet if I ask him, he’ll remember selling it to some Asian girl.”
Except Kevin didn’t sell it to Lillia. He sold it to me.
Oh fuck.
I check my phone for a text from Lillia. Nothing. Does she not realize that everything’s about to blow up in our faces?
There’s a knock on the bathroom door. I scream out, “Damn! Someone’s in here!”
“Kat?” It’s Alex. “Um, is Lillia in there with you guys? Or did you see her leave?”
Rennie throws her head back and explodes. “Alex, Lillia doesn’t give two shits about you! Get it through your thick skull, you dumb-ass! She’s with Reeve. You’re just her lap-dog!”
Rennie opens her mouth to scream at him again, but I cover it with my hand and open the door a crack. Alex is standing there, mouth hanging open. I say to him, “Sorry, can you just give us a minute?” and then I close the door again.
Rennie wipes under her eyes. “Lillia’s so done. If Reeve doesn’t care about what she did, everyone else here will. They’ll all hate her just as much as I do. Where’s Nadia? Did you see her out there?”
Oh shit. I’ve gotta contain this.
“Let’s just get out of here,” I say. “If we hurry, we can catch up to them.” I expect Rennie to fight me, but she doesn’t, and that makes me feel sad for her. She holds out her hands, and I pull her up like a rag doll. “Where’s your purse?”
“I didn’t bring one.”
Shit. I didn’t drive here. Pat dropped me off. But I don’t want to waste the time it’s going to take to text him to pick us up. “Did you drive?”
Rennie nods. “My Jeep’s parked out back. The key’s inside it.”
I open the bathroom door a tiny crack and peek out. Luckily, it’s near midnight; people have started moving into the main room of the gallery. Ashlin is handing out noisemakers. Alex is standing in the party, but his eyes keep moving from the front door to his cell phone.
I take Rennie by the hand and run for the back door. We go outside and it’s bitter cold. I stop her from getting into the driver’s seat. “You’re too upset,” I tell her. “I’ll drive.”
The air seems to be rousing Rennie. Her eyes are dark with anger and her fists are clenching and unclenching.
I turn the car on and blast the heat, even though it’s cold at first. The whooshing sound makes it so neither of us has to talk. I gun it out of the parking lot, and as I turn past the party, I look again for Mary. Where the hell is she?
Rennie says, “Where do you think they went?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “Let’s swing by my house and regroup. We’ll figure out what to do.”
Rennie stares out the window; her eyes are laser beams. “When I find them, they’re so dead.” Every car that passes, she looks to see who might be in it.
To be honest, I feel bad for her. Not getting to enjoy her own party after she worked so hard on it. I don’t even know what to believe right now, but I can’t help feeling pissed at Lillia.
This better be a huge misunderstanding. I can’t even think about the alternative, if Rennie somehow has this right in her head. If Reeve and Lillia have something real going, I’ll kill Lillia myself. Because doing that to Mary would be the most fucked-up thing in the whole world.
We get to my house. Rennie and I both get out of her Jeep. She slams her door loud, and with too much force. She’s still pissed. Really really pissed.
“Give me my keys,” Rennie says. “I’ll drive by the cliffs. You check the dunes.”
I have this feeling, this terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen.
I squeeze my hand around her keys. The ring is full of charms and shit that dig into my hands. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive? You’re so upset. And you’ve been drinking.”
“I’m fine.” She takes the keys out of my hand. As she does, she looks up at me and gives me a half smile. I get the feeling that she’s happy I’m not giving her a guilt trip or a hard sell or offering to sleep over so I can babysit her. We never had that kind of friendship anyway. So it seems weird to try and have it now.
I get in my car as Rennie peels out down the street.
But I don’t drive to the dunes, like she wants. I drive back to the party. I have to get those pictures, before anyone else finds them.
I hope Lillia knows what she’s doing. ’Cause if she doesn’t, we’re all dead.
