The Comeback Page 5

  She ignored Simon’s “Hey, I’m standing right here.”

  It was the perfect time to ask her for a favor. Nothing put her in a better mood than yelling at cast members about their lines.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “Why do those words send a shiver down my spine?” she said.

  “I want you to go to the dance with me,” I said. I’d never missed a school dance and I’d never not had a date. I was in unfamiliar territory.

  “No way,” she replied. “Besides, you always told me that popular girls never went alone. And also, I’d rather chew off my own arm than go to a high school dance.”

  “That can be arranged,” I said. She looked at me.

  When she showed no signs of budging, I resorted to pleading. “Please, please, please.”

  She sighed. “What happened now?”

  “I admit it. My mouth got me into trouble.”

  “Again,” she said. But she was smiling, which meant there was a chance of convincing her. I could be very convincing.

  Word definitely got around, though. On Wednesday, a lanky boy with stoner eyes and great hair walked up to me. “I hear you need a date for the dance,” he said. His friends, who were hovering in the background, snickered.

  “Aren’t you a freshman?” I said.

  “You’ve seen me around, then?”

  “I think my cousin used to babysit you,” I said. “Your face cleared up nicely.”

  He made a hasty retreat as his friends burst into gales of laughter.

  “Since when do freshmen have the nerve to ask me out?” I muttered to Monet, who was barely refraining from laughing.

  “Since they heard you were going with me,” she replied. She was going with me with the agreement that we would put in a brief appearance and leave. She also demanded that, in exchange, I would attend no fewer than three art films and a poetry reading.

  “Maybe Scott will be there,” I said.

  She blushed. Scott Caruso was this guy in her art class, and I could tell from the way she talked about him that she liked him.

  “Cheer up. It’ll be fun,” I said. “I promise.”

  It turned out to be the farthest thing from fun imaginable.

  Chapter 9

  My invitation to Connor’s after party seemed to have been lost in the mail. I needed to somehow salvage my dwindling reputation, but the harder I tried to regain ground, the lower my standing sank. For the first time, I wouldn’t be hanging out with Vanessa and Haley after a dance. Of course, even if I had been invited, Monet wouldn’t have come with me. I think she said something like she’d rather pull out her own fingernails.

  I surveyed myself in the mirror. I wore a short, attention-getting red silk dress that went well with my dark hair. It had been atrociously expensive but worth every penny. I needed all the confidence I could muster for what was sure to be an hour of hell. It was too late to back down.

  I grabbed my keys and yelled to Mom, who was in her home office, “working” on a Friday night. Which probably meant checking out Match.com profiles and playing solitaire.

  “I’m leaving now,” I hollered.

  “Have fun,” she said. “And be careful out there. Drive safe.”

  “I will. Bye, Mom.”

  Dev answered the door when I went by to pick up Monet.

  “Sophie, come in,” he said. “Where are you two headed tonight?”

  Monet appeared in the doorway behind him. “None of your business.”

  She wore a deep purple dress and her red hair was gathered up into a cascade of curls.

  Dev looked from me to his sister. “School dance?” he guessed easily. “Where are your dates?”

  “No dates, just us,” I said tersely.

  Dev knew the rules, too, and I braced myself for a caustic retort, but he only smiled and said, “See you there.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Monet gave him an exasperated stare. “You never go to school dances.”

  “I am tonight,” he replied.

  I noticed then that he was dressed in khaki pants and a dark blue shirt that matched his eyes. His red hair was darker, more auburn than Monet’s fire-engine red strands. All in all, Dev looked devastatingly handsome, and I wondered who his date was. I hadn’t heard that he was seeing anyone seriously.

  Monet pointed to her watch. “Let’s get this over with. If we hurry, you can buy me a shake afterward at Jack’s.”

  She strode out the door and I shrugged and followed her.

  As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted Connor and Angie getting out of his car. She wore a black dress, cut practically to her belly button, and had her blonde hair scraped back into a severe style. She looked like she was in mourning at a stripper’s funeral, but it was a look that worked for her.

  Suddenly, I felt overdressed in my red silk number. Angie had that effect on me.

  “It’s not too late to back out,” Monet said. “You look like you’re going to hurl.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m not going to let Angie Vogel scare me off.”

  I slowed down and Monet said, “Sure you don’t want to change your mind?”

  “No, but let’s wait a few minutes before we go inside. I don’t want people to think I’m stalking them.”

  The dance was being held in the school gym, and as we walked up, I could hear the music through the double doors.

  Haley was taking tickets at the front. I handed her our stubs. “Hi, Haley.”

  “Sophie,” she said. “How nice to see you.” It didn’t sound like she really thought it was nice to see me. In fact, it sounded like she wished I was anywhere but right in front of her. She peered behind me, to see who I was with, I was sure. “Oh, hi, Monet.”

  Monet gave her a civil reply, but I could tell it took an effort. I couldn’t really blame her. She and Haley had never gotten along.

  As always, there was a little cluster of freshman girls already there, hugging the wall, trying to look like they were having fun. We found a spot as far away from the air of desperation as possible.

  Inside, we watched couple after couple as they streamed into the gym. Finally, a group of rowdy guys, including Jason Brady, walked in.

  Half an hour later, I was standing alone. Almost as soon as we got there, Monet had been asked to dance by Scott-from-her-art-class. He was cute, despite the facial hair. And I was right—Monet definitely seemed into him.

  I still hadn’t seen Dev arrive, but I pretended I wasn’t looking, even though the suspense of not knowing who he was dating was killing me. I could have asked Monet, but that might have sent her into a complete frenzy.

  Connor and Angie weren’t dancing. Instead, they were holding court at a large table, which was surrounded by people wanting to bask in the glory of the new power couple.

  I turned away. I didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt to see him with someone else. I wondered if he missed me, even a little bit, or if he thought of me as this total pain in the ass he was glad to get rid of.

  Jason approached me. “Sophie, would you like to dance?”

  It was a fast song playing, so I didn’t have to worry about unwanted groping. And it was marginally better than standing there alone.

  He was an okay dancer and only tried to put his hand on my ass once. He even seemed to get the hint when I shot him a dirty look and moved away. He didn’t try it again, and even muttered, “Sorry.”

  The song ended and Jason and I exchanged those awkward looks, the kind where you’re not sure what to do next.

  “Would you like something to drink?” He wasn’t so bad, I thought complacently. You just needed to know how to handle him.

  “Yes, thank you.” I beamed at him. I was on my best behavior.

  Jason was being pleasant, too, and I felt comfort knowing I had at least one admirer. I avoided glancing in Angie’s direction, where several eligible guys were now buzzing around her like honeybees to a rose.

  Connor looked like someone
was trying to take his last cookie. Funny, it had never seemed to bother him when guys talked to me.

  Jason was gone a long time. I waved to Monet, who was still out on the dance floor, and smiled brightly when I noticed anyone looking at me. No one approached me, though.

  It had been a mistake to come. I wanted to leave, but I was Monet’s ride home. I searched the crowd for Dev again. If he was there, I could ask him to give Monet a ride and leave with a clear conscience. I saw him, but he was with Beth Templeton, a senior girl, and he looked like he was having fun. I’d tough it out a little while longer.

  Just as I thought for sure that he’d deserted me, Jason came back. His eyes were bright and he wore an oversize grin.

  That, I thought with satisfaction, is someone who appreciates the pleasure of my company. I straightened my spine.

  He handed me a cup of punch and I drank it thirstily.

  “Want to dance to this one?” he said.

  I nodded. It was another fast song, so what was the harm?

  Back out on the dance floor, Jason grabbed my hand and twirled me. The room spun and then spun some more.

  Minutes later, I was sweating profusely. We’d been dancing nonstop and more cups of punch had magically appeared in my hands.

  Once, I met Connor’s gaze and we both quickly looked away. I tried not to pay any attention, but I noticed that he and Angie only danced to the slow songs.

  Jason handed me another cup and I drank quickly. I was having too much fun to stop and slow down.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so well. “It’s hot in here. Isn’t it hot in here?” I barely recognized the sound of my own voice. It was slow, slurred.

  Jason wrapped his arm around my waist and held me so tight I couldn’t breathe. I leaned against him, barely able to stand. He said something to his buddy that I didn’t hear. The other guy laughed and they bumped fists.

  He walked me toward the exit. I saw Haley give me a long stare and then scurry off. Probably to spread gossip, I thought sleepily.

  “Let’s go get some fresh air,” Jason said and hustled me outside before the chaperones saw me.

  We were out of the building when someone blocked our path.

  “I don’t think so.” Dev’s voice came from a long way off. I looked up and his face swam into view. “Sophie’s not going anywhere with you.” He grabbed my hand and gently pulled me free of Jason’s grasp.

  “I say she is.” Jason yanked my arm and I stumbled.

  “Look, Brady, I know what you’re up to,” Dev said. “Just leave Sophie alone and we won’t have a problem.”

  “Why do you care?” His voice was pugnacious. SAT word. “What’s she to you?”

  I peered into Jason’s face. What was I doing? I couldn’t stand Jason. He was a slug. The fact that I saw two of him only underlined the fact that I’d totally blown it. Ignored all those warnings you learn in health class. You know, never set your drink down, never let a guy you don’t know and/or trust get a drink for you. If you feel funny, don’t ever leave with someone. That kind of stuff. The bastard.

  “She’s my sister’s best friend,” Dev replied. “And she’s not leaving with you.”

  Jason tugged on my arm again—and that’s when I threw up all over him. Pink and black vomit (I shouldn’t have had two boxes of Good & Plenty for dinner) stained his shirt. I guess the throwing up grossed him out so much that he gave up. He strode off, cursing.

  Dev sighed. “What are we going to do with you, Sophie?”

  The fresh air revived me some, but I was still having trouble walking.

  “He put something in the punch,” I slurred.

  “Now you figure it out,” Dev replied. “What were you doing hanging out with a reptile like Jason Brady?”

  “No one else would talk to me.” I sniffed. Tears streamed down my face. I was still having trouble walking and now I was crying too hard to see where I was going. “What about your date?” I wailed. “Poor Beth.”

  “She’ll understand,” he said tersely. Dev threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I was thankful that my dress wasn’t any shorter, because that’s all I needed, a picture of my underwear getting posted on some Web site.

  Dev was strong, very strong. I clung to his back. I wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Don’t get me wrong, I had an okay body, but I wasn’t a petite little thing like Beth, either.

  He dumped me into the passenger seat of his car and took out his cell. I could tell by the grim expression on his face that he was angry. I didn’t blame him. I’d managed to screw up his date with Beth, and there was a strong possibility I might barf in his car. Chalk it up to another smart move by Sophie Donnelly, the queen of popularity.

  Chapter 10

  What are you doing? Don’t call my mom.”

  He flipped the phone open. “I’m not calling your mom. I’m calling Monet to get her butt out here and help me.”

  “Oh.” I collapsed against the seat.

  The next thing I knew, Monet tapped on the window, and then she and Scott, the art class hipster, slid into the backseat.

  She took one look at me and laid into her brother. “God, Dev, what did you do to her?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” I slurred. “Jason Brady spiked my punch. Dev saved me.”

  “Actually, Haley saved you,” Dev said. “She saw what was happening and came and told me.”

  “Why you?” Monet asked what I was thinking.

  “There wasn’t anybody else,” Dev replied. I winced at the bare truth of the statement. “I mean, she couldn’t find you and she didn’t want to tell Connor, so she got me.”

  He seemed to realize that mentioning my ex’s name wasn’t helping me feel any better and changed the subject. “We can’t take her home like this,” he said, gesturing to my mascara-stained face and my general unkempt appearance. I looked down and paled when I realized where the wet-looking blotch on my dress probably came from. Obviously, Jason wasn’t the only one I’d thrown up on.

  “She can spend the night at our house,” Monet replied, “but I’d better call her mom as soon as we get home.” She remembered her companion. “Can we give Scott a ride home first?”

  I was sobering up, which was unfortunate.

  “I’ll talk to her,” I said. “It’s okay. She’ll understand.”

  Mom didn’t answer her cell, so I left a brief message telling her that I was spending the night at Monet’s and not to worry. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, we were at Monet’s.

  The next morning, Monet’s voice woke me up. “Sophie, it’s after nine.”

  I was disoriented and dehydrated. I was lying in Monet’s bed, wearing a pair of her pajamas. There was a bucket on the floor next to me.

  The events of the previous night came rushing back to me. “Oh, no.” I moaned.

  “Do you feel like eating anything? Dev made breakfast.”

  The mention of food made my stomach churn. I felt like I’d been eating ashes or something, but I dragged myself out of bed and went to the mirror.

  I looked like the main character in The Corpse Bride, paper-white with huge purple bags under my eyes. Somehow, this was all Angie Vogel’s fault, that I’d made a fool of myself at the dance, that I had to be rescued by Dev, that I had a hangover the size of an elephant.

  I stared in the mirror. I would make her pay. I just didn’t know how.

  I didn’t even bother to fix my makeup or comb my hair. Dev had seen me at my worst already. And I wasn’t trying to impress him, anyway.

  Every step made my head pound, but I made it downstairs, even though I had to rest once I got to the bottom. I was never going to drink again, intentionally or otherwise.

  “How are you feeling?” Monet asked when I entered the room.

  “Like hell warmed over,” I said.

  Dev snorted. He was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, no shoes. He stood in front of the stove flipping pancakes. “You look it, too. Are you hungry?”

  “God, no,” I s
aid. “Do you have any aspirin?”

  After a couple of Tylenols and a bottle of water, I felt a minuscule bit better. I watched Monet and Dev eat in silence.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some?” Dev said. “My theory is that you should eat something sugary to cure a hangover.”

  “You’d know,” Monet said. “Remember when we were freshmen, Sophie? And Dev came home from that party completely wasted?”

  “I have no room to talk,” I commented.

  “True,” Dev said. “And at least I wasn’t letting a creep like Jason Brady maul me in front of the entire school.” The scorn in his voice scorched into my brain.

  I glared at him, but he ignored me.

  “Besides, I’m more mature now. I’ve learned to handle my alcohol,” he added.

  “Yeah, right,” Monet said. “What about right before school started?”

  He ignored her. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

  His sister looked up curiously. “The batter will go to waste otherwise,” he added brusquely.

  “Maybe I could eat a little,” I replied. My headache had gone away and so had the sick feeling in my stomach.

  Dev made another batch of pancakes and I plowed through them.

  “I was starving,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to hang out here today?” Monet said.

  “No, thanks, I’ve got to get home,” I said. “Mom’s probably going to be worried about me.”

  But when I got home, the house was empty. There was a note on the fridge from Mom saying that she’d gone to the office.

  I went into my room and pulled the covers over my head and slept the rest of the day.

  It was dusk when I woke up, but I was completely recovered. The pancakes had done the trick.

  So I thought the breakup was the worst of it. That I couldn’t sink any lower. That was, until I went to school on Monday and discovered that someone had snapped a photo of me at the dance and sent it to every cell phone in the school—and posted it online.

  I could have lived with a photo of me with my panties showing being carted off by Dev. But the photo was of a disheveled and bleary-eyed girl tossing her cookies (or candies in this case) all over Jason Brady. I don’t know which was worse, the fact that the photo showed me at my worst or that I was clinging to Jason Brady.