Todd Strasser - Wish You Were Dead

Courtney gave me an exaggerated nod, and said, “Yah-ha,” which was her nice way of saying, “When are you going to snap out of your fantasy world and get it through your thick skull that guys just aren’t the way you, Madison Archer, want them to be?”

“I know. I know.”

“Well, maybe it’s all for the best?” Courtney said. “Maybe he’s the wrong guy for you anyway? Like, I mean, you don’t know anything about him. He just seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“No,” I countered. “He comes from some place . I just don’t know where.”

“Did you ask?”

“The opportunity didn’t come up.”

Courtney stared at me. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you spend, like, half the night in the car with him?”

“Yes, I know. I just didn’t … I don’t know, I didn’t feel comfortable prying. And I didn’t want to seem too interested.”

“You can ask where someone’s from without sounding too interested, Madison.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“So how did it end?” she asked.

I told her about how he’d called Lucy a rich bitch and then saw where I lived and apologized and said he thought I was pretty nice.

“Yah-ha!” Courtney raised her eyebrows. “That’s a hopeful sign.”

“He only said it because he felt bad about the ‘rich bitch’ thing.”

“Hello? You don’t know that. Maybe he really thinks it. I mean, face it, Madison, you are known for being Miss Congeniality.”

I was wondering how many Miss Congenialities wound up becoming Miss Old Maids when I turned into the driveway at Soundview High, an old three-story brick building with white columns in front. As we pulled into the student parking lot, I spotted Jen Waits on foot, dodging through the rows of parked cars to intercept us.

Jen was a short, busty cheerleader with blonde bangs, boundless energy, and an indefatigable zeal for being part of what she perceived to be “the right crowd.” Impervious to slights and putdowns, she was a gossip of encyclopedic proportions.

“Brace yourself,” Courtney muttered as I parked the Audi. Jen was motoring toward us fast enough to make her ample chest bounce under her tight sweater.

“You guys hear about Lucy?” she gasped, pink-cheeked from running. Before either of us could answer, she said, “Of course you have. But know what I heard? The police aren’t doing anything! It’s some weird policy they have for teenagers. They don’t start to investigate unless you’re gone for, like, a week. Because kids are always running away, you know?”

“Always?” I repeated doubtfully.

“That’s what I heard. Anyway, I wonder how Adam is taking it. I mean, they did have a huge fight at the party.” Jen gave Courtney a curious look. “Have you heard anything?”

I wondered why Jen had directed the question to Courtney.

“Since when am I the central clearing house for gossip?” Courtney asked pointedly.

“Just asking, okay?” Jen said with a shrug. “You were at the party. I saw you talking to him.”

“So?” There was an uncharacteristic note of irritation in Courtney’s voice.

“I just thought maybe you’d heard something,” Jen said a bit sheepishly.

I was unaccustomed to seeing venom in Courtney’s gaze, but there was no mistaking it now. I couldn’t help wondering why.

In school the rumors were repeated. Lucy and Adam had had a big fight at the party. The police couldn’t be bothered because too often teens disappeared for a day or two and then reappeared. But I’d known Lucy since we were little kids. It was not like her to lose it just because she’d had a fight with her boyfriend. And run away? Lucy was the most competitive person I knew. That was the biggest reason why we’d ceased being close friends. It wasn’t fun or even healthy to be friends with someone who always had to be better than you. Lucy Cunningham was the last person to run away from anything. But she was also bipolar and, therefore, unpredictable.

At lunch I picked at a salad while Courtney ravenously scarfed down several slices of truly unappetizing-looking cafeteria pizza. It seemed touchingly sad, given the Rajwars’ affluence, that my friend had to depend on a school lunch to fill her nutritional needs.

“So … what was that about with Jen this morning?” I asked.

Courtney finished chewing and swallowed. “I was talking to Adam at the party and Lucy came over and just went off on him. It was totally innocent, but you know how she can get sometimes.”

That was true. Lucy was possessive and territorial, and wouldn’t hesitate to let Adam know when she thought he was getting too friendly with another girl. Across the cafeteria, Tyler emerged from the lunch line carrying a tray and wearing his trademark black leather trench coat. I watched as he scanned the tables, then headed for an empty one by the windows.

“The loner rebel,” Courtney quipped.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” I said.

A wry smile appeared on her lips. “Whoever came up with the phrase ‘Opposites attract’ must have been thinking about you.” She raised one eyebrow. “Why don’t you go over?”

“And say what?”

“How about ‘How are you?’ or ‘Nice weather we’re having today’ or ‘What do you think of them Yankees?’ ”

I laughed. “Their season ended a month ago. They didn’t even make the playoffs.”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Tyler set his tray down on a table. Could I really go over and sit with him without seeming too pushy or just completely awkward? Why couldn’t it just be something friendly to do? Was it because I knew I was interested in being more than just friends?

As Tyler sat down, he suddenly turned his head. Before I could look away, his eyes met mine. I froze, then forced a smile onto my lips. The smile Tyler responded with seemed sharp and knowing. Perhaps it was my imagination, but that smile seemed to say, I know what you’re thinking .

“Busted,” Courtney said.

I turned away, my face feeling hot.

“It’s not the end of the world,” she said. “It just means maybe you’re interested.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You know you’re making way too much out of this. Like, look at it from his point of view? He’s new at school, doesn’t know anybody, sits alone at lunch every day. He’s probably dying to become pals with someone like you who’s near the red-hot center of the social universe. He’d be crazy not to.”

“I don’t think he cares. Not everyone does, you know.”

Courtney waved her hand dismissively, as if anyone who didn’t care didn’t count. But it made me think of what PBleeker had written two nights before: How come you only hang out with the popular clique?

Courtney glanced at me and then her gaze rose over my shoulder. She stopped chewing, dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and smiled as widely as she could without parting her lips. It was the sort of self-conscious smile of someone worried that there might be something caught in her teeth. I wondered who she could be so concerned about her appearance for.

The answer came in the darkly ringed pale hazel eyes of Adam Pinter. He stopped beside Courtney, who swept some dark hair from her face and continued to give him that peculiar no-teeth smile. Adam’s lips were pursed and the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Can we talk?” he asked me with unusual bluntness.

The question seemed to jar Courtney, as if it was the opposite of what she’d expected. At first she seemed startled, then a frown appeared. As I rose and followed Adam to an empty table, there was little doubt in my mind that there was something going on between Courtney and Adam, and I wondered why she had been reluctant to tell me.