The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,72
Everyone was standing perfectly still, staring at us.
“Stupid little slut,” Aidan hissed at me. “No bit of pussy is worth this!”
I could see Mr. Krigon (dressed in a cape and wearing fake vamp teeth with bits of blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth) walking very fast toward us, so I didn't say anything else to Aidan, even though I wanted to tell him that he was the biggest poop I'd ever met. Instead I turned around and headed toward the equipment room. I figured I'd turn on the fog machine, then have a good cry in there for a bit.
“Emily!”
“Sorry, Mr. Krigon, I'm just going to turn on the fog machine.”
“Fog machine? What fog machine? Emily—”
I pushed my way through the crowd in the dance area, past Snickerer Ann (tight red dress that showed she had no boobs, and long black wig) and Snickerer Bee (dressed like a shepherdess, of all things), both of whom laughed really loudly when I passed them, past Mrs. Spreadborough (pumpkin, complete with little green vine hat) who looked shocked, past Miss Horseface (not wearing any costume) who flared her equine nostrils as I ran by, past Devon, who was leaning up against the wall, laughing (no doubt at me), past a horrified Holly standing really close to Fang, who watched me with an odd look on his face, past everyone else who ignored the fact that the band had started playing, and watched me run by instead. Me, the fool American who hurt a really nice guy because of a horrible one.
I bit my lip hard, refusing to let them see me cry. I hated them all, hated England, hated Brother for making me come here, and most of all, hated myself for being so stupid about Aidan the Poophead.
I ran into the equipment room and flipped the fog machine on, then cranked it up so it thumped and hummed loudly as it belched fog out of the end of the long hose that snaked around to the edges of the band's amps. No one out there deserved nice, eerie fog, but I was going to show them that I wasn't bothered by a little thing like the whole world hearing that I didn't want to touch Aidan's thingie. I'd just stay in the equipment room for a bit, then go out and act like nothing happened, and then I'd go home and die.
You have to admit it was the only thing I could do.
“Emily?” Holly stood in the door, Fang behind her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine and friggin' dandy,” I sniffled, turning around so she wouldn't see me wiping up my tears. I knew I'd ruined my really cool makeup, but at that moment I honestly didn't care, which should tell you just how upset I was. I mean, have you ever known me to slack off in the makeup department?
“Are you going to come out?”
“Yeah, in a few minutes. I'm just making sure the machine is working OK.”
“Oh. All right. I'll see you when you come out.”
“Sure,” I said, still facing the wall.
There was silence for a few seconds, and when I glanced back, Holly was still standing in the doorway. “I...I'm sorry, Emily.”
“I know. Thanks.”
She left quietly, and I felt even worse. I thought maybe Fang would have said something nice to me, but he didn't. He didn't say anything, he just stood behind Holly, and left when she left. Obviously he didn't want anything more to do with me. My heart broke up into even smaller pieces. I cried for a lot longer, but after a while I decided that although my life was now formally over, I wasn't so pathetic that I was going to hide away for the rest of the evening.
“This is my party, dammit. I worked hard to make it the absolute coolest thing this stupid school has ever seen, and I'm not going to let some poophead make me sit in here and hide from him.”
“Emily?” It sounded like Mr. Krigon calling for me. I sighed. The fog machine gave a gurgle and continued to thump and hum away.
“Emily? Where are you? Emily, this—Oh, I beg your pardon. Yes, I'm very sorry, I'm trying to stop it. Emily?”
I took a deep breath, tried to make my stomach stop thinking it was going to barf, then pushed the door open to go back into the gym.
There was no gym to be seen. Everything was sucked up into a wall of whiteness.