As soon as I walk through the door, two girls giggle and a whole group of juniors goes totally gape-jawed. I dont blame them. I know I must look like shit. Before leaving the house, I didnt even bother to change out of my lounge pantsa pair of way oversized velour sweats my mom gave me back when they were still in.
I dont waste any time on the juniors, though. Im already worried I may have arrived too late.
Tara is coming down the stairs as Im pushing my way up, and I grab her, leaning into her ear. Juliet Sykes! I have to yell it.
What? she yells back, smiling.
Juliet Sykes! Is she here?
Tara taps her ear to show she cant hear me. Youre looking for Lindsay?
Courtney is behind Tara and leans forward, flopping her chin on Taras shoulder. We found the secret stashrum and stuff. Tara broke a vase. She giggles. You want some?
I shake my head. Ive never been this sober around people this wasted, and I say a brief prayer that Im not half as annoying as they are when Im drunk. I continue up the stairs as Tara yells, Lindsays in the back.
Before Im totally out of earshot I hear Courtney shriek, Did you see what shes wearing?
I take a deep breath and tell myself it doesnt matter. What matters is finding Juliet. I can at least do that one thing.
But with every step Im losing hope. The upstairs hallway is totally packed, and unless she hasnt come to the party at allwhich seems like too much to hopeit seems unlikely that she hasnt already left.
Still, I push on, finally making it to the very back room. Lindsay catapults on me as soon as I get into the roomshe actually leaps over five peopleand for a second Im so grateful to see her, happy and drunk and my best friend, and to get treated to one of her famous super-squish hugs, that I forget why Im here.
Bad girl. She slaps my hand as she pulls away. You cut school but come out to party? Naughty, naughty.
Im looking for someone, I say. I scan the room: Juliets not here. Not that I expected her to be, I dont know, sitting on the couch and chatting it up with Jake Somers, but its instinctand wishful thinkingto look.
Robs downstairs. Lindsay steps back and holds up her hand, framing me in the angle between her thumb and forefinger. You look like the homeless man who stole Wal-Mart. Are you trying not to get laid or something?
Irritation flares up again. Lindsay, who always has something to say.
Have you seen Juliet Sykes? I ask.
Lindsay stares at me for a split second and then bursts out laughing. Are you serious?
A feeling of enormous relief washes over me. Maybe she never showed. Maybe she had car trouble, or lost her nerve, or
She called me a bitch. In that moment Lindsay shatters me. She did come. Can you believe it? Lindsays still cracking up. She loops one arm around my shoulder and calls out, Elody! Ally! Sammys here! And shes looking for her best friend, Juliet!
Elody doesnt even turn around; shes too busy with Steve Dough. But Ally swings in my direction, smiles, yells, Hi, sweetie! and then holds up the empty bottle of vodka.
If you see Juliet, she calls out, ask her what she did with the rest of my drink! She and Lindsay think this is hilarious, and Lindsay calls back, Psychotini!
I am too late. The realization makes me feel sick, and my anger at Lindsay comes rushing back.
My best friend? I repeat. Thats funny. I thought you were the one who was buddy-buddy with Juliet.
What are you talking about? Lindsays face gets serious.
Childhood friends. Best friends. Rug rats. Sand bunnies. Lindsay looks like shes about to say something again, but I cut her off. I saw the pictures. So what happened? Did she catch you farting or something? See you blow a snot rocket? Discover that the famous Lindsay Edgecombe isnt perfect after all? What did she do that was so bad?
Lindsay opens her mouth and then closes it. Shes a freak, she whispers fiercely, but I see something in her eyes Ive never seen before, an expression I cant quite identify.
Whatever. I have to find Juliet Sykes.
I fight my way back downstairs, ignoring the people calling my name, tapping my shoulder, and whispering about the fact that Ive shown up in public looking like Im about to go to sleepwhich is, of course, exactly what happened. I figure if Im quick enough I can catch Juliet on the way out. She must have parked somewhere. Shes probably blocked in. It will take an hour to get people to move their cars (if she can even convince anybody to help at all, which is doubtful) and even longer if she decides to hoof it home.
Thankfully I make it downstairs without a run-in with Rob. The last thing I need is to explain myself to him. Theres a group of sophomores standing near the entryway, looking terrified and more or less sober, so I take my shot with them.
Have you seen Juliet Sykes?
They stare at me blankly.
I sigh, swallowing my frustration. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall. Theyre still looking at me vacantly, and I realize Im not exactly sure how to describe her. Loser, I almost sayI would have said three days ago. But now I cant get it out. Pretty, I say, testing the word. When that doesnt work I squeeze my fists into my palms. Probably soaking wet.
Finally the girls faces light up with recognition. Bathroom, one of them says, pointing to a little alcove just before the kitchen. Theres a line of people gathered in front of a closed door. One of them is crossing her legs and hopping up and down. One of them keeps rapping on the door. One of them points to her watch and says something I cant hear, but she looks pissed.
Shes been in there for, like, twenty minutes, a sophomore says. My stomach drops to my feet and I almost get sick right there.
Bathrooms have pills. Bathrooms have razors. People lock themselves in bathrooms when they want to do bad things, like have sex or throw up. Or kill themselves.
Its not supposed to go this way. Im supposed to save you. I elbow over to the bathroom, shoving through the line of people crowded there.
Move, I say to Joanne Polerno, and she drops her hand immediately and steps aside.
I press my ear to the door, listening for sounds of crying or retching or anything. Nothing. My stomach does another dip. Then again, its almost impossible to hear, with the music pounding so loudly.
I knock softly and call out, Juliet? Are you okay?
Maybe shes sleeping, Chrissy Walker says. I shoot her a look that I hope will communicate how stupidly unhelpful that comment is.
I knock again, mashing my face against the door. Its hard to tell whether I hear a faint moan from insideat that second the music shrieks even louder, drowning out everything else. But I can imagine her there, fading, just beyond the door, wrists hacked up and blood everywhere.
Get Kent, I say, sucking in a long breath.
Who? Joanne says.
I have to pee, Rachel says, hopping up and down.
Kent McFuller. Now. Do it, I bark at Joanne, and she looks startled but scurries off into the hallway. Every second feels like an eternity. Its the first time I really understand what Einstein said about relativity, how time bends around and stretches out like a gummy bear.
What do you care, anyway? Rachel says, grumbling just loud enough so I can hear.
I dont answer. The truth is I have no answer, really. I have to save JulietI feel that. Its my good thing. I have to save myself.
Im suddenly not sure if that makes me better or worse than someone who does nothing, so I push the thought out of my mind.
Joanne comes back with Kent in tow. He looks worried, his forehead crinkly underneath the shaggy brown hair thats falling down over his eyes. My stomach does a flip. Yesterday we were in a dark room no more than two inches apart, so close I could feel the amazing heat of his skin.
Sam, he says, and leans forward to grab my wrist, staring deep in my eyes. Are you okay?
Im so surprised by the sudden touch I pull away just a fraction, and Kent takes back his hand. I dont know how to explain the way this makes my insides go hollow.
Im fine, I say, totally aware in that moment of how ridiculous I must look to him: the messed up hair, the sweatpants. He, by comparison, looks actually kind of put together. Theres something scruffy-cute about his checkered sneakers and loose, low-belted khakis, and the sleeves of his oxford are rolled up, showing off a tan he got God-knows-where. Certainly not in Ridgeview in the past six months.
He looks confused. Joanne said you needed me.
I do need you. It comes out weird and intense-sounding, and I feel a furious fit of blushing coming on. I mean, I dont need you. I just need I take a deep breath. I think I see a momentary spark in Kents eyes and it distracts me. Im worried Juliet Sykes is locked in the bathroom. Just after I say it, I wince. I sound ridiculous. Hell probably tell me Im being insane. After all, he doesnt know what I know.
The spark dies and his face gets serious. He steps beyond me and tries the door, then he pauses for a second, thinking. He doesnt tell me Im crazy or paranoid or anything. He simply says, Theres no key. I could try to pick the lock. We can always break it open if we have to.
Im going to pee upstairs, Rachel announces, then turns on her heel and wobbles off.
Kent reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a handful of safety pins. Dont ask, he says when I raise my eyebrows. I hold up my hands and dont push the issue. Im grateful hes taking charge without asking questions.
He squats down, bends the safety pin backward, and uses it to jimmy the lock. Hes keeping his ear pressed to the door like hes listening for a click. Finally my curiosity gets the better of me.
Do you have an after-school job robbing banks or something?
He grimaces, tries the door, slips the safety pin back in his pocket, and selects a credit card from his wallet. Hardly. He wedges the credit card in the crevice between the frame and the door and wiggles. My mom used to keep the junk food locked behind our pantry door.
He straightens up and twists the handle. The door opens an inch, and my heart flies up into my throat. Part of me is hoping that Juliets face will appear, furious, or that the door will be slammed closed again from inside. Thats what I would do if someone tried to open the bathroom door when I was inside. That is, if I was still awakealiveto close it.
But the door just sits there, open that little inch. Kent and I just look at each other at first. I think were both scared to open it any farther.