The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,67

inside me. I know the plan was to sit back and look innocent until this thing blew up in their faces, but even the touch of his hand makes me want to break something. Why did I ever think I could pretend like I was OK with all his cheating and lies?

Maybe because I’ve been pretending so long, I’ve got it down to an art.

“What do you think?” I nudge Cameron quietly.

“About what?”

“Jolene.”

He shrugs, pushing back his damp hair. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” I press him. “What do you think of her?”

Cameron looks blank. “I guess, she’s kind of a freak, right?” He reaches for the bottle of champagne, offering it to me first with another of those puppy dog grins.

Was it good?

I’ve been blocking the actual memory of him and Kaitlin all night, but now I can’t stop the picture of them together. His hands on her skin, her tongue on his chest.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

“Hey B, pass it my way.” Kaitlin is propped on some cushions on the floor. She rolls over, giving Cameron a view right down the front of her dress. His eyes slip down, just for a second, but it’s enough.

Screw strategy.

“You can have it.” I get up, suddenly feeling this roar of blood in my ears. Before I can think twice — hell, before I can even process what I’m about to do — I grab the champagne bottle and upend it, pouring the whole damn thing over her.

Kaitlin screeches, warm alcohol dripping from her head. “What the hell?”

The whole group is staring at me like I’ve gone insane. Brianna has her mouth dropped wide open, and even Nikki manages to blink through her drunken stupor.

“Have you lost your mind?” Kaitlin is whimpering, wiping at her face. Her hair is hanging in damp clumps, and the booze clings to her dress in wet, sticky patches. She looks ridiculous.

I start to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Kaitlin screeches again. Courtney rushes to her, passing someone’s sweater to help dry her off, but the rest of them stay frozen, looking at me in shock. Brianna’s face darkens.

This is it, I realize — either I shut the hell up and pretend it’s all a joke, or I finish this for good. No going back.

So I don’t.

“You know what?” I tell Kaitlin, still sitting there on the floor. “Have everything. I don’t want it anymore.” Reaching behind me, I undo the clasp on Cameron’s pendant and drop it in her lap as I walk past. Despite the limp, the socks, and the fact that I just screwed up my entire social life, I sashay out of that room like I’m strutting on three-inch heels.

I’m done with them.

Their insults slice through me, worse than any slap to the face. I spin quickly and stride out of the room before they can see the damage, hurrying down the fancy hallways to get away. Get the hell out of there. Pushing past drunk guys and giggling girls, I finally slip into the empty cloakroom and sink back, falling behind the layers of coats and jackets until I hit the wall. Something solid.

I take a breath. I shouldn’t be so shaken. I shouldn’t even care. It’s nothing but the same petty bitching I’ve ignored for the last three years of school, but for some reason, it was different in there. It was Bliss.

An unfamiliar hurt stings in my veins. I feel stupid even realizing it, but after everything we’ve been through tonight, I counted on some kind of loyalty, the smallest amount of support. But instead, she just sat there, draped over the boyfriend who screwed around on her, laughing along with the friends she’s been plotting all night to destroy.

Nothing’s changed.

The thought is bitter like metal in my mouth. Tonight wasn’t a turning point, or any kind of new beginning. Back at my dad’s house, out on that golf course, I had almost convinced myself that these games meant something. That it wasn’t just canvas and paint going up in flames, but the past, too. Now I see it’s not so easy. Even if I change, everybody else stays the same.

I lurch back out into the party, determined to break this damn haze that’s still clouding me. Why should I let them cut me down to size? Why should I even care? Let them play their cruel games with each other — I’ll be gone soon enough. The faces blur as I shove my way through, ignoring yelps of protest.