The Party Page 11

  Did she seriously expect Jeff to get out of bed in the middle of the night and rescue her? Call your dad, Jeff insisted. But Lauren said she couldn’t. Her dad would merder her. He’d send her away to a school for delinkwents.

  Call your mom

  Lauren informed him that her mom was undoubtedly passed out drunk by this time of night. But there had to be someone else: her stepmom, an aunt, a cousin, a friend with a car? It didn’t make sense for Jeff to be rescuing this girl. He barely knew her. There was something wrong about it … and downright creepy. Lauren was getting angry now:

  Fuck you then

  I’ll go out to the street and wait for someone to offer me a ride

  Shit … Jeff had no choice.

  He slipped out to his car and headed to the address Lauren had texted. It was in the Tenderloin: no place for a kid at night … or in the day, for that matter. She was on the sidewalk, waiting for him. She looked older, twenty at least, in her short, tight dress, high heels, and big hair. She looked like a prostitute; she fit right in. Thank God he had come when he did.

  Lauren piled into the passenger seat and Jeff saw that her makeup was smudged from crying.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, slamming the door behind her. She turned away from him, pressing her forehead against the cool side window.

  Jeff pulled the car onto the quiet street. Lauren didn’t provide a destination, so he headed toward her dad’s high-rise. It was only a couple of weeks ago when he had delivered her there, crying, sniveling, covered in vomit… . And now, she was in his car again, and she was crying again. He glanced over at her to make sure she wasn’t going to vomit again. But she was whimpering softly, her face turned away from him.

  “Don’t take me to my dad’s,” she said, apparently recognizing the route. “Take me to my mom’s. In Noe Valley.”

  Without a word, Jeff made a right. Lauren continued to snivel as they traveled, but Jeff didn’t press her for any details. He didn’t want any—he just wanted to get the girl home and out of his car. It felt inappropriate to be driving through this seedy neighborhood with a sixteen-year-old girl who was not his daughter at nearly three in the morning. It felt illegal. He checked his rearview for cop cars.

  Finally, he pulled up in front of a brightly painted but run-down Victorian conversion. He put the car in park but consciously left the motor running. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Lauren turned her tearful face toward him for the first time. “No one cares if I’m okay or not.”

  “That’s not true,” he said, though maybe it was. Her father was absent, her mother a drunk, her stepmom clearly didn’t like her, and her sister had just left her at some strange guy’s apartment. He came up with, “Hannah cares about you.”

  “Hannah doesn’t know the real me. No one does. If they did, they’d hate me.”

  “No, they wouldn’t.”

  “I hate me.” She was crying harder now, sobs shaking her narrow bare shoulders. The girl was drunk and messy and melodramatic, but Jeff felt sorry for her. Anyone would have: she may have been fucked-up and dressed like a hooker, but she was just a girl and her pain was real. He glanced around to make sure there were no witnesses, then he put his arm around her.

  Lauren seemed to take this as an invitation to launch herself into an embrace. It was too close, too intimate, too familiar … but she was bawling her head off, her tears dampening his sweatshirt. He could hardly push her away in that state. Who knew what she might do? Run off into the night? Fling herself in front of a passing car? He patted her back paternally. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Finally, she regained the ability to speak. “Thanks for coming to get me,” she murmured, into his shirt. “For caring about me when no one else does.”

  “You know that’s not true,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. Even as his lips were brushing her hair, he regretted the fatherly gesture. It was automatic, instinctual, but totally inappropriate. This girl was not his daughter, not his niece, not a family friend… . He pulled away, quickly forcing Lauren to sit up. She looked at him, confused for a moment, and then a smile curled her lips. She was staring at him with such blatant adoration that it sent a chill through him. There was something else hidden in her smile … desire. Oh God.

  “You need to get to bed,” he said, reaching across to open the door for her.

  Lauren obediently got out, then turned and peered back in at him. “Talk to you soon, Jeff.” She closed the car door and tottered, in her heels, down the path toward her building.

  “No!” Jeff called into the vacuum of the car. “We won’t talk, Lauren! We can’t!” But she didn’t turn back. She didn’t hear him … or didn’t want to hear him. He waited until she was safely inside her building and then he drove toward home. It was over. He had delivered the girl without incident. But the tight knot of dread in his bowels told him this wasn’t the end.

  hannah

  THIRTY DAYS AFTER

  “Ronni’s back.” It was Marta, flanked by Caitlin as usual, who hurried to Hannah’s locker with the news. Hannah’s throat tightened. She knew Ronni would return to school eventually but had hoped she’d stay away for a couple of months at least. Ronni’s presence could upset the delicate social order that had been established since she left. Hannah was on top now, but it was still new and her position was precarious. Ronni could walk back in and topple Hannah from her perch. They had all witnessed Lauren’s fickle side when she had dropped Ronni as damaged goods. It could cut both ways.

  And then there was the lawsuit. Lisa Monroe was obviously furious with Hannah’s parents. She blamed them for Ronni’s accident and wanted them to pay her three million dollars! Kim and Jeff didn’t have that kind of money—her mom reiterated this point in phone calls with their lawyer and hushed bickering with Hannah’s dad. How did Ronni feel about everything? Did she hate Hannah now? Blame her for the accident? Or did Ronni think her mom was being a “vindictive bitch” as Hannah’s dad said when he thought Hannah was out of earshot?

  Hannah closed her locker and pressed her math books to her chest in an effort to appear ambivalent. “Where is she?”

  “I saw her from a distance in the counseling suite,” Marta said. “She was with Mrs. Pittwell. Her eye … it looks kind of scary.”

  “So you didn’t talk to her?” Hannah asked.

  “No. I came straight here.”

  “I don’t know how to act around her,” Caitlin said. “It just feels so weird.”

  “She’s still the same Ronni,” Hannah said with a confidence she didn’t feel. For all she knew, this experience had transformed Ronni into someone completely different.

  Marta said, “I know … but it’s sort of awkward. Like, I don’t want to stare at her eye or anything.”

  “Yeah,” Caitlin said. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Hannah said, “Ronni really likes you guys.” The words sounded insincere, but they weren’t a lie exactly. Ronni had never said she disliked Marta and Caitlin—they just weren’t really on her radar. Hannah stepped into the flow of students heading to class, and Marta and Caitlin fell into step beside her.

  “I was hoping you could do me a favor,” Hannah ventured, as they moved through the halls.

  Marta sounded suspicious, “What favor?”

  “Umm … maybe talk to Ronni and see how she’s feeling? About the party? About me?”

  Caitlin stopped walking and exchanged a look with Marta. “We don’t really want to get involved.”

  “It’s just a simple question,” Hannah retorted. “It’s no big deal.”

  She watched another furtive look between Caitlin and Marta. Marta spoke in a low voice. “Lauren told us to stay out of it.”

  “Stay out of what?” The stream of students headed to class was thinning, an indication that the second bell was about to ring, but Hannah stood her ground.

 
“Everything,” Caitlin said in a quiet but resolute voice. “She said to forget that night ever happened… .”

  “Or we’ll be fucking sorry,” Marta added, a touch indignantly.

  “She didn’t mean it,” Hannah scoffed. She had been standing right there when Lauren assured Noah and Adam that the other girls wouldn’t talk. Still, Marta and Caitlin were making it sound so ominous, like Lauren had threatened to kneecap them if they breathed a word. Hannah tried for a lighter tone. “Lauren just doesn’t want anyone to get into trouble.”

  There was another look exchanged between Marta and Caitlin, then Marta said, “We’re not going to say anything. About where the booze came from. About any of it.”

  “If anyone asks us, we’ll say we don’t remember anything about that night,” Caitlin seconded.

  “Which is true, basically,” Marta elaborated. “We were all wasted. It’s normal to forget.”

  “I know. I barely remember anything,” Hannah said. “From the alcohol. And the shock …”

  The second bell rang. “We should go,” Caitlin said, and they all moved toward their classes. “Get Lauren to talk to Ronni,” she suggested.

  “She’s Ronni’s best friend,” Marta echoed, “she’ll know if she’s pissed at you or whatever.”

  Hannah could feel the cohesion between her two friends, and as a result, her own exclusion. The girls had obviously discussed it and decided they didn’t want anything to do with Ronni or Lauren or Hannah. Hannah had worked so hard to foster a relationship with Lauren, but suddenly, she felt nostalgic for the familiar, comfortable fold of her friendship with these two. It had been so simple and pure and easy … but the party had changed everything. Marta and Caitlin could put it all behind them; they could just walk away. Hannah couldn’t.

  “You’re right,” Hannah said breezily. “I’ll ask Lauren at lunch.” The girls branched off and headed to social studies. Hannah walked alone to math class.

  HANNAH WAS STILL in class when her phone buzzed. After a first-day lecture about a zero-tolerance policy on texting in class, her math teacher had seemingly lost interest and most students texted freely under the guise of using the calculator app. Hannah peeked at her phone under the desk. It was Lauren.

  We need to talk

  K

  Meet me in the tech wing after class

  K

  When she was finally released from the monotony of geometry, Hannah hurried to meet Lauren. She was terrified of bumping into Ronni along the way. What if Ronni screamed at her? Lashed out at her physically even? Or broke down in tears? But Hannah managed to find Lauren, leaning on the vending machine, without incident.

  “Thank fuck,” Lauren said, grabbing Hannah’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Outside.” She tugged Hannah toward the nearest exit.

  They walked swiftly across the playing field, heading toward the school fence. Hannah tried not to glance back at the school, but she worried about missing her science class. There was a unit test next week and she could use the review. But based on Lauren’s agitation, this was more important.

  Finally, when they had exited the school grounds and were walking along the sidewalk, Lauren spoke over passing traffic. “Principal Edwards called me into her office.”

  “What for?” Hannah called over the hum of tires on pavement.

  “She wanted to talk to me about fucking Ronni.”

  Fucking Ronni? Hannah wasn’t sure if the expletive meant that Lauren was angry at Ronni, or just angry at the principal for wanting to discuss her situation.

  “Edwards said that Ronni needs support and love and all that shit. Ronni’s really fragile and she needs her best friend. I didn’t want to say it to Edwards, but I’m totally on your side in this.”

  “My side?”

  Lauren stopped walking and faced her. “Ronni and her mom are trying to ruin your family.”

  “Ronni’s not. I mean, she might not even know about the lawsuit.”

  “Please …” Lauren rolled her eyes. “Ronni and her mom are like BFFs. They’re totally weird and codependent. That’s what happens when you’re an only and you don’t have a dad.”

  “I guess… .”

  They walked again. “I told Edwards, I’m not even that close to Ronni anymore and she can’t make me babysit her.”

  “What did Edwards say?”

  “She was all, like, disappointed in me… . Whatevs. She can’t force us to be friends with Ronni. I mean, you and I are super close now. It would be kind of a downer to have the one-eyed freak hanging around like a third wheel.”

  Hannah gave a weak smile of agreement but her head was reeling. She had been afraid that Ronni might replace her in Lauren’s affections, but she hadn’t expected this: that they would turn on Ronni, that she would become an outcast, the enemy. Wasn’t Ronni the real victim here? Wasn’t she the one who was really suffering? Was this all because of Lisa’s lawsuit?

  Lauren said, “Did you know Ronni Snapchatted her tits to Adam?”

  “No. When?”

  “Like, a week before your birthday. I kind of liked Adam then, and she just went after him. What a whore.”

  “Totally.”

  “Still … I have to talk to her,” Lauren continued. “To make sure she won’t say anything. I already made sure Marta and Caitlin won’t rat us—or your dad—out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s he holding up?” Lauren asked breezily. “Your dad?”

  It was a weird question. Hannah glanced over at her friend, but Lauren looked completely blasé. “Fine. He runs and swims a lot. It’s good for stress.”

  “I used to do yoga at the Bay Club. I saw him working out there a lot. He’s really fit. For his age.”

  Ewwww. “I guess. It’s my mom I worry about.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about her,” Lauren said.

  “She’s really upset about the lawsuit and everything… . She and Lisa Monroe used to be friends.”

  “My mom says your mom is more worried about her precious reputation than anything else,” Lauren relayed. “And my stepbitch says this all could have been avoided if your parents had offered to pay Ronni’s hospital bills, or given her some money for college or something. Just as a way of saying sorry. She says your parents brought this on themselves.”

  Hannah felt hot anger rise up in her chest, into her throat, and color her face red. The depth of her rage surprised her. She’d never felt protective of her parents before—she’d never had to. And she had idolized Lauren for so long … but right now, she wanted to slap the girl’s perfectly made-up face. She wanted to pull her shiny hair and kick her in her J Brand–clad shins. How fucking dare Lauren and her dysfunctional parents judge Hannah’s family? How fucking dare they? Hannah stopped walking. She could feel her cheeks burning, her eyes filling with angry tears. She couldn’t lose it, she just couldn’t.

  “I’m not really cool with your family talking shit about my family,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Lauren stopped and gave Hannah an appraising stare. She took in the anger contorting Hannah’s features, the red complexion, and the tears shining in Hannah’s eyes. “Chill out,” the popular girl said. “You know my mom is a fucking mess. She’s on all these antidepressants and she drinks wine, like, all day. And my stepmom is a nosy, do-gooder bitch. It’s not like I care what they think. I was just saying… .”

  “Cool,” Hannah croaked, terrified that she was about to burst into tears.

  Lauren’s lips twitched and it looked like she was going to laugh. Hannah was mortified. She’d overreacted, freaked out, nearly bawled like some weak little baby… . Her shame made her face burn hotter. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry …

  “Do you want to go back to school?” Lauren asked.

  Hannah heard the challenge in her friend’s tone and realized this was a pivotal moment. Hannah’s answer would define her in Lauren’s eyes, and it would cement her future.
She took a deep breath.

  “Fuck no… . Do you have any weed?”

  lisa

  THIRTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER

  Lisa wrapped her hands around the large cup—a bowl really—of steaming ginger rooibos tea. She was seated across from Carla Ross, Lauren’s stepmom, who was sipping from her own bowl: herbal lemongrass. Lisa had only met Carla perfunctorily before today. A couple of months ago, she had picked Ronni up at Carla’s luxurious, South of Market apartment where she lived with Lauren’s father, Darren. Usually, Ronni took transit home, but that night she’d stayed late, supposedly working on a science project. When Lisa picked up her daughter, she’d decided to introduce herself to Lauren’s parents … and check out the luxury penthouse.

  Lauren despised her stepmom, but that wasn’t a reflection on Carla’s character. Ronni had taken an instant dislike to more than a few of Lisa’s lovers. (This instant contempt was, in fact, preferable to the rare occasions when Ronni had grown fond of and become attached to a man her mom had been seeing.) For several years, Lisa had avoided introducing her boyfriends to her daughter—until Allan. The two were amicable, but Lisa kept them in separate orbits as much as possible.

  Carla had called Lisa right after the accident to express her concern for Ronni. Then, a few days ago, she’d sent an e-mail:

  Hi Lisa,

  I wanted to check on Ronni. I hear she’s back at school and I hope she’s doing well. I’m really upset that Lauren isn’t being a better friend to her through all of this. My husband says to stay out of it, that I don’t know everything that’s going on, and I don’t. But I do know that real friends should stand by each other through good and bad times. I’m sorry that Lauren’s mom never taught her that. If you ever want to have tea and talk, I’m here.

  Carla xo