Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

Micah’s music.

I turn it off. “Are you kidding me right now? You barely talk to me about your mom and you’ve been dealing with her for seventeen years. You don’t confide in anyone ever, do you? Not even Jay. It must be so lonely.” I shake my head. “I just think it’s sad.”

Something about the combination of “lonely” and “sad” ignites a fury in Kendall. “You bitch,” she says. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’d be sad and lonely if it weren’t for me. No one but your fat little Mexican friend would even know your name.”

“She is not fat,” I say, feeling rage flare up inside me too. “And I have plenty of my own friends.”

“Yeah. What a bunch of winners .”

I take a deep breath and bite my tongue. Kendall is only saying this stuff because she’s drunk and upset. But still, she doesn’t need to be hateful toward people I care about, and it was beyond irresponsible of her to drive my brother’s car all wasted. Maybe Micah is right. Maybe I do make excuses for people’s shitty behavior. As I pull off the highway, I swallow hard and start to tell Kendall she’s out of line, but she’s not finished yet.

“You would be no one if it weren’t for me. I introduced you to all the right people, made you go to all the right parties. Basically, I made you.”

Did she? When I met Kendall, my entire wardrobe consisted of soccer shorts and sports tees. I was more freckles and braces than human. I spent my free time watching soccer on TV and hanging out with my brother. After she and I were the only freshmen who made varsity, Coach Halstead paired us up a lot and it felt inevitable we’d become friends. But nothing is inevitable with Kendall. It’s all calculated, controlled.

Was she responsible for my popularity?

Maybe.

But I made the team on my own.

Was she responsible for my continued social climbing throughout sophomore and junior year? I think about the fashion advice, the parties, about her hooking me up with Jason.

Probably.

“You’re right,” I admit. “You made me. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m remaking myself. And I like the new me better.”

“Good thing,” Kendall spits out. “Because I will see to it no one else does. No one that matters anyway.”

A few weeks ago these words would have terrified me, but now they just sound frail and pathetic. I turn to look at her as I pull into her subdivision. “I get it, you know? I feel for you having to grow up with no dad and a control-freak mom, but that doesn’t give you the right to do and say whatever you want. You’re better than this. I know it.” I sigh. “But lately you’ve been acting just like your mom.” It’s a harsh thing to say, but it’s true, and I can’t hold back anymore.

“Take it back,” Kendall demands. “Take it back or else.”

I turn into her driveway and shift into PARK. Part of me wants to take it back. Part of me wants to apologize, to forget the hateful things she’s said tonight. To just wash them away because she’s obviously upset and I don’t want to lose her from my life. But I didn’t say anything wrong. She’s the one who needs to apologize.

“Good night,” I say.

Kendall unclicks her seat belt and slides out of the car. For a moment, she stands there, her face half rage and half shock as I pull the car door closed and back out of her driveway.

I’m actually trembling as I make my way through her neighborhood and back to the highway. It’s like walking away from Jason all over again. Almost without thinking, I turn the car toward Denali. Funny how all roads seem to lead there.

I pull into the parking lot right after midnight. The lights are still on, but I can see through the window that the front of the coffee shop is empty. Everyone must be clocking out. Micah’s car isn’t here, but Bianca’s is. Also Ebony’s and Leo’s. After having it out with Kendall, all I want to do is give Bee a hug and thank her again for being such an amazing friend.

I watch the three of them appear from the back and pass through the dining area. The door opens and Bianca steps out into the night. She looks insanely gorgeous in her Denali tee and long skirt. The wind blows shiny ribbons of black hair around her face. I start to call out to her, but then she opens her mouth and I can tell she’s laughing, even though I can’t hear it. Leo follows behind her. He takes her hand and she leans in close to him. There’s no way I can disturb this moment.

Instead I wait until everyone has left and then pull out of the lot. The street is deserted. Only the whisper of wind and the reflection of the metallic lane markers keep me company. I know where I am driving, but I’m not sure why. Micah is not going to just be sitting outside at midnight waiting for me.

Sure enough, when I loop past his apartment building there is no sign of life. The Beast is parked out front. I berate myself for being a stalker. Fine, I need to apologize to him, to see if we can at least be friends, but that doesn’t mean I have to do it right that second. But I don’t want to go home yet either.

I return to the deserted Denali parking lot and pull the Civic into Micah’s usual spot. It’s lame, but just being parked there makes me feel a little closer to him.

As I slouch down in my seat, my foot hits something on the floorboard. I bend down to grab it. It’s Kendall’s flask—I’ve seen her bring it to parties before. I twirl it around in my hands a few times before I uncap it and take a long swig. Whatever it is, it’s too strong, but it numbs the heavy feeling in my stomach. Being friends with Micah is not going to be good enough. I should have just told him how I felt about him. So many chances—at The Devil’s Doorstep, at Beat, at the soccer game, at Denali. So many lost opportunities because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted, because I was scared. I close my eyes and see Micah and me out on the back patio at Beat, his head on my shoulder, his fingers rubbing the pointy bone in my wrist. I like you too. Why would he say that if he was getting back together with Amber?

I take a few more sips from Kendall’s flask without really thinking about it. The steering wheel starts to blur before my eyes. Shit. What am I doing? I just yelled at Kendall for drinking and driving. Now I’m stuck here, unless I want to walk home alone in the dark. Smart, Lainey. Real smart.

Oh, well. I’m in no hurry to get home anyway. I’ll just hang out here in the car for a little while, until my head clears. I recline my seat and get comfortable. My eyelids flutter closed. I’ll just rest my eyes until the whole world stops spinning. I won’t actually go to sleep.

Only I do.

Until someone yanks my car door open with such force that I almost tumble out into the parking lot.

Iclutch the steering wheel to keep from spilling out onto the pavement. My heart thuds against my rib cage. The sky is a grayish purple, like the sun is preparing to rise. Micah slams my door and walks around the front of the Civic, sliding into the passenger seat next to me. “Jeez, you’re lucky your dad didn’t find you or he would’ve called 911. You looked dead.”

I stare blankly at him, taking in his black-on-black attire. His hair is flat in places like he’s been wearing a hat. What is he doing in my car? What is he even doing awake at—I check the clock on the dashboard—5:31. Am I dreaming?

He rests the back of his hand against my face, and then rotates his wrist and slaps me gently on the cheek. “Are you in there? Do I need to call 911?”