B.C. Johnson - Deadgirl

“The first bacchanalia were all female,” Dad countered.

“Bah,” I said. “Seriously?”

“He has a point, Lucy,” Mom said. “A stupid point, about an ancient Roman cult.”

Dad’s victorious expression soured somewhat at that comment. I enjoyed it, I’m gonna be honest.

“I just want to go and be…normal.”

Both Mom and Dad squirmed at that one. It was a cheap shot, invoking my disappearance. It had only been a week ago to the day, and I can’t imagine they’d gotten over it. I had, or at least I felt like I had. Maybe the pressure of my immediate, freaky concerns had shunted thoughts of my attack out of my mind. I couldn’t be sure.

Dad sat up and pointed an accusatory finger at me.

“Parents?”

“I think so—”

“ Know so. Alcohol?”

“Well, I imagine one without the other—” I tried.

They didn’t look amused at my joke. I continued on.

“No.”

“Sex?”

“Dad!”

“Sex?”

“No!”

“Smoking?”

“Of course not.”

“Home by ten?”

“That is unfair,” I said. “It’s a party on a Friday night.”

Dad shrugged, “Could be nine.”

“Whoa,” Mom said. “How about eleven?”

I scrunched my fists together. “I’m fifteen now—”

“Exactly,” Dad said. “You’re only fifteen. You don’t even have a car.”

Well, that backfired.

“That means I can’t drink and drive. Eh? Eh?”

This time my mom’s face cracked a little. She tried to hide her smile, with only moderate success.

“Here’s the deal, Lucy,” Dad said. “It has been a week since—”

“Dad.”

“It. Has. Been. A. Week. You don’t know what your disappearance did to us, young lady. I am sitting here, terrified, every ounce of me screaming the word no. By all rights you should be grounded for a year and a half.”

I couldn’t hide the red glow of anger on my face, but at the same time, I could hear Dad’s voice straining. This wasn’t bluster anymore. He really was scared. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of what it must be like on his side.

“10:30,” I said, finally, after a long pause. “And I’ll call home every half an hour.”

Dad sighed, deeply, and he looked exhausted. Mom traded glances between him and me, and I couldn’t tell who she was more concerned for.

“Fine,” Dad said. “But I want to talk to you after school, before you go. Do you understand?”

Daddy-anger welled up in me, but I fought the urge to shriek like a harpy at him. 10:30 wasn’t bad. I’d had to come home much earlier on other Friday nights, and none of those outings had been preceded by my near-death experience. Post-death experience .

“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”

“Go get ready, honey,” Mom said. “You’re gonna be late.”

School went by in a blur. Once the anger at my dad faded, and I told the chicks about me going to the party, the day brightened considerably. Wanda and Sara and Daphne had similar curfews and regulations, and Morgan wasn’t allowed to go at all.

The best part of my day was lunch—Zack grabbed me just outside of Art and tugged me to the side. Bless Wanda, she didn’t even blink or cast me a sidelong look. She walked on without me. The perfect wing-girl. She was starting to give Morgan a run for her money. Not that Morgan was a particularly useful wing-girl—she attracted far too much attention for such a position.

Anyway. I shook Morgan out of my thoughts and stared up into Zack’s eyes. I told my muscles to relax. I sent orders to the sweat-glands to stand down, and tried my best to smooth my hair through sheer willpower alone. My eyes drifted from his and slid down to his lips—I thought of the kiss in the movie theater. Our first fleeting moment together—and so far the only one.

“Lucy?”

Crap . I’d been drifting.

“Of course,” I said. “Well, today. On the weekends it’s Sasha Fierce. ”

Zack laughed. His skin wrinkled around his nose, and he stared down at me with those intense sapphire eyes.

“Nice,” he said. “I meant have you heard anything yet?”

I nodded, my eyes wide, wondering about the question I must have missed. No way to play it cool without making the situation worse. Stupid truth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’d like to buy a vowel?”

“What?”

“I totally spaced,” I said, sheepishly. “What did you want?”

I watched his face twitch—he didn’t think my attempt to pass it off was very funny. He looked offended, actually. I felt my heart sink down somewhere around my shoes. I took a deep breath, but he cut me off before I could launch into an apology.

“Can you go to Benny’s party tonight?”

I smiled huge. Gigantic. My face was gonna hurt the next day from cheek-trauma.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

Zack blinked at me. If we’d been in a cartoon, I would have heard the dink-dink noise.

“I’m kidding,” I said. “Just gotta be home by—”

Ten-thirty. Ten-thirty. Ten-thirty. It flashed in my brain like a neon sign.

“Eleven-thirty,” I said.

“Really?” Zack said. His shoulders squared off, and I watched relief wash over him, “Wow. That’s great. That’s amazing. You have the coolest parents.”

And they had the dumbest daughter. I shrugged off the sense of worry twisting my belly like bad Chinese food—I didn’t have to stay out until eleven-thirty just because my rebellious mouth said so. Maybe I’d be home at ten-thirty, or even ten. Yeah, and maybe Zack would propose to me tomorrow and fly me to Italy on his private flying reindeer-driven sled.

“Cool,” Zack said. “Mind if Benny and me come pick you and the girls up first? So he doesn’t have to go out again.”

First? It was tragically uncool to be the first people at a party.

“Benny doesn’t have to pick up anyone else?”

Zack shifted uncomfortably.

“What?”

“You and Sara, Wanda and Daphne are the only…non-wheeled. Sophomores, I mean.”

My mouth dropped open.

“You’re a sophomore, too.”

Zack grinned, “But Benny is my best friend.”

“So it’s just juniors and seniors? I don’t believe it,” I said. “Upperclassmen not trying to take advantage of helpless frosh girls?”

Zack shrugged. Again, not terribly amused. His sense of humor was so hot and cold. I had trouble getting a bead on what made him laugh and what offended him. It had to be all those newspapers he read. Gave him an over-developed sense of umbrage. Dad was the same way.

“It’s a damn shame Morgan can’t come.”

I made a face. I couldn’t help myself.

“For Benny,” he quickly corrected. “The poor guy is heartbroken about it.”

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “Though I feel pretty terrible for her.”

Zack nodded. I could tell what he was thinking—his first thought was to sneak her out, and his second was a memory of what kind of trouble that had caused last time. He’d heard through the grapevine, namely me, that when Morgan’s mom found out that Benny was her date the night of Morgan’s escape and my disappearance, she’d forbidden Morgan from talking, calling, or seeing him.

“So…you’ll pick me up?”

“At seven,” he said. “Give or take.”

“Just come to my house,” I said. “I’ll just gather the chicas there first.”

“ Bueno ,” Zack said.

He walked me to the circle of girls. We brushed elbows a couple times, each contact sparking little thrills of excitement. When he left to rejoin Benny’s crowd, the girls pounced.

Daphne: “When are you just going to tear his shirt off already?”