Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

Davina cocked her head, seeming thoughtful. “The one where she’s freaking out over how many guys she’s slept with?”

“Yep.”

I had no idea about romantic comedies, unless they had been made before 1960, but I couldn’t stop grinning at Jen’s SF choice. There was no way I could’ve done better myself. “Sounds perfect.”

“First, maybe we should talk about what happened with Brit.” Davina perched on the edge of the blue futon. “I’m still kind of freaked out.”

“It’s hard not to be,” Jen admitted.

“I’ve been having dreams.” Davina stared at the floor. “I haven’t told my mom or she’d have me in counseling so fast it’d make my head spin.”

Jen smirked. “I thought everyone at Blackbriar had a therapist and a personal trainer.”

It was meant as a joke, but I felt pretty sure Davina and I were in a different tax bracket. She mumbled, “I’m on scholarship.”

“Wow, really?” I was impressed.

Davina nodded. “I have been since the beginning. I’m pretty sure that’s what Allison has against me. Her parents are nouveau riche, so she’s kind of sensitive about it, like being polite will infect her with poverty.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘nouveau riche’?” Jen asked.

“You know it’s true. People who just got their money always act the worst about it. They want so bad to be accepted by the blue bloods, to hang out with the right crowd—”

“Allison is kind of bitchy to everyone, though.” These were all nuances completely undetectable to an outsider, namely me.

Jen said, “She got boobs early and everyone except Brit froze her out. So now she shoots first. Constantly. She’s always at DEFCON three, looking for a fight.”

“So a preemptive strike, so to speak.” I’d never thought about it before; the Teflon crew seemed to have actual reasons for their behavior. Honestly, that never occurred to me. I’d figured they didn’t need any motivation to be mean—that like summer and winter, they acted as nature dictated.

“Basically. Allison used to be best friends with Nicole Johnson, but then she developed and guys started paying attention to her. It pissed Nic off, and they stopped hanging out a few years back.”

“Allison is a bitchzilla these days, no lie, but it sucks that Nicole ditched her over something that wasn’t her fault. It’s not like we can control when we get boobs.” Davina glanced down at her own chest. “Or if, in my case.”

“Whatever,” Jen said. “I bet your mom is never on your case about gaining two pounds. Whereas if I even look at carbs, I get a lecture.”

Wow, and I thought my parents were in a pain in the ass. At least my mom never bitched at me about getting fat.

“What’s that look about?” Davina asked.

I didn’t want to tell the truth. “My parents teach physics at BU, so—”

“That explains a lot,” Jen said.

I guessed she meant that it accounted for my complete lack of physical awareness last year. And she would be right. Most girls had a mom who talked to them about hair and makeup at some point, if only in passing. Mine was completely devoid of typical feminine interests; it balanced since she was a brilliant scientist on the verge of an earth-shaking breakthrough. People always thought their discoveries or inventions would change the world. I had a suspicion my mother was on track to do it.

“Yeah, well. Better late than never, right?”

Jen seemed to read my discomfort with the topic. She glanced over at Davina.

“You guys want a drink?”

“Some water would be great,” the other girl answered.

“Still, sparkling, or mineral?” She apparently had all three in her mini-fridge. Talk about hospitality.

“Sparkling,” Davina decided aloud.

“Same,” I said.

Jen got out three bottles of sparkling water, then she turned on the TV, but none of us were in the mood to watch; it was more background noise than anything. I might be wrong but I didn’t think Jen had ever hung out with Davina like this before either. We were united in that we’d seen something horrible together, and while it didn’t precisely make us friends, it did offer a bonding moment that nobody else shared. I might not know these girls very well, but they understood what those moments had felt like.

“So…,” Davina said. “Brit…”

Dropping her gaze, Jen drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I can’t get her face out of my head. When I try to get to sleep, I see it over and over.”

“For me, it’s the blood,” Davina whispered.

There were so many things I couldn’t share, not least share my suspicions that it hadn’t been a natural death. “It happened so fast. One week, she has a terrible rash and then…”

“That’s terrifying, too,” Davina said. “I’m kind of scared to try any new brands of makeup now.”

“Her parents are suing the cosmetic company,” Jen put in.

Yeah, that’ll help. I clenched a fist, trying not to reveal the chaos in my head. Guilt warred with sadness while regret danced around in circles. But you don’t know for sure it was your fault. Or Kian’s. But if it was Wedderburn … God, it’s all so tangled.

“Maybe we should just … not think about it for a while,” I suggested for my own sanity. “If that’s possible. It might help if we had a better memory together to replace it with.” God, I hoped that didn’t sound as dumb as I suspected. It reeked of Hallmark greeting cards and I expected them both to throw something at me.

Instead both girls were nodding. “That makes sense,” Jen said.

Davina got out a magazine and we paged through it, looking at clothes and deciding what items were fug and which were overpriced. That carried us for an hour, and by that point, I felt pretty comfortable. The housekeeper came upstairs then with a tray of finger foods: white cheese, various cut fruits, carrots, celery, and jicama, along with some cold cuts and whole wheat crackers.

“Dear God.” Jen sighed. “Any other girl has a sleepover and she gets to have chips and cookies and popcorn. Not me. Sorry about this, guys.”

“I don’t mind. It looks good, actually.” I wasn’t just being nice. It was much fancier than anything I got at home, especially arrayed on the teak serving tray.

Davina grinned. “I love the radish roses.”

“Nobody likes radish roses,” Jen said. “Radishes are disgusting.”

“I didn’t say they were delicious. But they are adorable.”

We ate, and I listened while they talked about people from school. Apparently Nicole Johnson tried to make a move on Mr. Love, and got shot down. That won’t end well, I thought.

“Are you serious?” Davina asked. “I mean, he’s fine and all, but he’s at least twenty-five. Something is seriously wrong with him, if he wants to date a high school girl.”

I offered, “Date might be the wrong word.”

“You mean like a professional cherry-popper? We had one in my old school, kept a score card and everything. Asshole.” Davina made a face.

Around six, Jen put in the romantic comedy, which was much funnier and more entertaining than I expected. Note to self: Don’t judge modern movies prematurely. As the movie ended, my phone buzzed with a text.

“Is that your man?” Davina asked.

I checked. “Yep.”

“Oooh, what’d he say? Is he sexting you?” At home, Jen was much more chill than she seemed at school. She unwound enough to try to steal my phone.

I held it away from her and read out loud, “‘Is it too needy to check in and see how you’re doing? If so, this is a mis-text. If not…’”

“Funny and hot,” Davina said.