Go back to sleep.”
“I can take you home, if you want.” Cameron leans down, checking that I’m OK. All night, he’s been acting like the best boyfriend ever, fetching me drinks and asking if I need a sweater — and ignoring Kaitlin. It’s everything a girl could want.
Except that whole cheating part.
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m good.” As if I’m going to leave early, and risk him coming back here to be with her.
“No freaking way!” Brianna suddenly shrieks, sitting bolt upright. “What the hell is she doing here?”
They all look.
“You’re kidding me!” Kaitlin’s voice is full of scorn. “I mean, showing up at prom is one thing. But this is, like, a private party!”
I pull myself upright to see what’s got them so worked up.
It’s Jolene.
She’s hanging with some senior boys in the hallway, a full beer bottle dangling from one hand. She looks tired, and kind of sad too, but when she hears Kaitlin’s loud bitching, her eyes narrow. She turns this way.
“This had better be good.” Brianna snorts as Jolene saunters into the room.
“Hey, everybody,” she drawls, slow and sarcastic. The badass exterior is back. “What’s up?”
“Uh, you mean apart from you gate-crashing?” Brianna doesn’t get up; she just lounges there, looking down her nose at Jolene.
“Well, it’s not exactly the most exclusive guest list.” Jolene looks around the room, her eyes stopping on Kaitlin. She smirks. “Looks like you’ll invite just about anyone.”
I stiffen. It’s one thing to have Jolene knowing the truth when we’re out there, away from everyone. But here, in the same room, with all my secrets? I gulp.
“Relax,” Jolene adds, as if she can hear my panic. “I’m just having some fun. Getting to know my fellow students.”
“Wrong party.” Brianna flashes a fake smile. “Your crowd is hanging out by the railroad tracks. You know, down with the bums and druggies.”
I catch the flicker in Jolene’s expression, but I don’t say a word. I just slip lower beside Cameron and hope she walks away.
“Drugs?” Jolene drawls. “Gee, and there I was thinking I’d just have to find your big brother. Didn’t he have that problem? You know.” She mimes a sniff.
Brianna gets this murderous look on her face. “Like you can judge. What are you, like, some kind of crack baby?”
The gang bursts out laughing. Jolene looks over at me. I let my eyes drift shut, pretending like I’m napping until she looks away.
“Don’t worry,” Kaitlin coos, “you can’t help it. It’s like, being born with bad hair or a weird nose or . . . whoops, I guess you got those too.”
There’s more laughter, everyone smirking like we’re so much better than Jolene.
“What can I say?” Kaitlin beams. “Some people can’t get over their genes.”
“And some people can’t get over being a skanky bitch,” Jolene snaps back, but I know her by now, and I can tell she’s rattled.
Still, I don’t move.
“Whatever.” Brianna sighs, acting bored. “Nobody wants you here, so why don’t you just head on back to the trailer park, and maybe we’ll see you around — working at McDonald’s.”
“It’s Dairy Queen,” Courtney pipes up.
Brianna laughs, delighted. “Right! I’ll remember to tip you extra next time.”
Jolene sends me one last look, as if to say, “These are your friends?” I close my eyes again, waiting until she’s walked away and Brianna and the girls erupt in a frenzy of post-showdown bitching.
“Can you believe her nerve?”
“I know! You should totally call the cops on her; I bet she’s going to steal stuff.”
I listen to them, feeling a low flush of shame. But what am I supposed to say —“Hold up, guys, Jolene is OK; we’ve been hanging out all night”? Like that would play well with this crowd. No, that would only raise more questions, like what we were off doing together, and why. So I keep quiet, and soon, the girls get tired of bitching over Jolene and her nerve and move on to more important things, like coordinating outfits for the seniors’ graduation and how they can convince their parents to let them spend a month backpacking through Europe this summer. But even though the showdown is quickly forgotten to them, I can’t shake my guilt. The way Jolene stared at me, it was like I was the worst kind of person — lower than Kaitlin even, because at least she didn’t look me in the eye while she had her hands down Cameron’s pants.
Cameron. He’s still sitting next to me, stroking my hair. I feel something shift