Mean Girls: New Girl / Confessions of an Angry Girl / Here Lies Bridget / Speechless

chapter 7 me

I AWOKE WITH A START AND LOOKED AROUND, disoriented.

I had no way of knowing what time it was. In a world where cell phones were barely allowed, you’d think there would be a clock on every wall. But there wasn’t. I put the fire out, turned off the lights and ran to my room. It was eleven forty-five. Just in time for bed, and I was fully awake.

I remembered Blake’s invitation. I wasn’t sure if I had the nerve to go down alone.

I got that butterfly flutter in my stomach as I wondered if Max was there. I ignored the thought. Of all ways to start off at Manderley, developing a crush on the most unavailable guy there was probably not the best.

The flutter turned to a shudder as I went down to the beach.

The breeze coming off the ocean felt good. Refreshing. A little bit like home, only way colder than usual. The air, in only these few days, had dropped a few degrees. But at least today it hadn’t rained.

I clutched the fabric of my new peacoat closer to me and walked to the boathouse. I measured my breath carefully, loosened my grip on the book I still had in my hand and opened the door. I could tell immediately that the mood here was better than at the last party. Not so somber. I was met with a few astonished faces, and an immediate approach from my across-the-hall neighbors.

“You came! Finally!” Madison said, her smile big.

“I did.” I smiled, too. “I’m sorry I’m here so late.”

Julia hooked her arm with mine, as if we were best friends. “It’s no problem.”

I could smell that she’d already been drinking, and I could see by looking at and hearing everyone else that they had been, too. She dragged me across the musty room.

“Take a shot of this,” she said, holding up a blue bottle. “It is whipped-cream-flavored vodka and it is so good.”

I let her pour it into a shot glass and tried not to mentally relive the experience of the last time I’d had straight liquor. No one I hung out with back home really drank because we were always driving places, and didn’t want to bother with the expense anyways. Sometimes at parties if someone else was driving I’d have a drink or two if Leah was, but not usually. One time, we were at my friend Lucy’s aunt’s house on Vilano Beach. I had about seven margaritas, made for me by someone else. That night I learned what it felt like to not care about how intimately close I was becoming with a toilet, and what it feels like to wake up with the imprint of a bathmat on my cheek. Bad. That’s what it feels like. Freaking. Bad.

Especially when it doesn’t go away for the next forty-eight hours. The sickness or the imprint.

“How do you get this stuff in here, anyway?” I asked, warily postponing the shot.

“Take it!” Madison said, and the two of them clinked their glasses with mine, sloshing the slightly syrupy liquid onto my hand.

Three, two, one. And with the burning, numbing yuck came the memories and the churning stomach. They laughed at my facial expression, and I indicated that Madison should hand me a can of Sprite. My head spun instantly, and the deep bass of whatever heavy bass song was playing vibrated right through me.

“Whoo,” I said, after a few sips of the soda. “It’s been a while.”

“Let’s do it again!” Madison said, and poured another.

“No, really, I had a terrible hangover once—”

Julia put a hand on my shoulder. “Look. I drink all the time. I’m not gonna let you get a hangover. Cuz we’re friends, right?”

I mean, that might be a slight exaggeration…. “I believe you,” I said, “I just—”

Before I could object, they refilled my glass. I hesitated before taking it with them, and decided that one more shot couldn’t hurt. And clearly this was the way to get in with these girls.

I downed some more Sprite and took a deep breath.

“So,” said Julia, inching a little closer to me. “So. Who do you like?”

“Who do I what?”

“Like! I mean, so far do you think anyone is hot?”

I tried not to think of Max Holloway. “I don’t really know anyone yet.”

“You don’t need to know them.” Madison looked at me like this was obvious.

I felt under pressure, trying to think of someone, anyone besides Max to say. But I couldn’t. “Really, I don’t even know anyone’s name.”

“Just look around and point at someone!” Julia said, a little louder.

They were clearly not letting this go. I looked around for someone to point to, and landed my gaze on Johnny. He was smiling at some girl with strawberry-blond hair. I thought of what Blake had said earlier.

“Johnny?” Madison asked.

The girls exchanged a meaningful look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean him, I was just looking at him. I didn’t mean him—”

“Let’s go back outside.” Julia pointed toward the door.

Madison grabbed me and the next thing I knew, we were outside and walking away from the house. My flip-flops slapped cold pricks of sand into my calves.

“What?” I was sure my face was red, and was glad we were in such shrouding darkness.

Julia looked as if she was trying to say something tactfully. “That’s Johnny Parker.”

“Like I said, I didn’t even know him or anything. I didn’t say anything about thinking he was cute.”

“Well, do you?”

This is the kind of question that girls ask each other, with the one intention of screwing the other over by her answer. So I just said, “I have no opinion on him, because I don’t know him.”

“There are only two guys here who are off-limits,” said Julia. “One is Johnny Parker—”

She followed my gaze as it shifted over her shoulder. Max had just loped down the steps. Madison said, “Shh …”

“How many cats did you say your mom has? Ten? That’s like so many.” Julia’s voice was loud and fake. My face grew hot.

Max looked at us as he walked by, and then went through the boathouse door without a word.

“I don’t have any cats, why did you say that?” I asked.

“Why do you care? Oh, no, you like him, don’t you?”

“What? Like him—no!”

They clearly wanted to back me into the Bitch Corner. They exchanged another look.

I looked at each of them, my heart skipping a little at being so accurately pinned. “I don’t know either of them.”

“But do you think you might like Max?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because.” Julia looked helplessly at me, and then to Madison.

Madison gave me a pitying look. “Because you really shouldn’t. He’s not going to like you back.” She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Not because there’s anything wrong with you … just …”

“He’s in love with Becca. Like crazy in love.”

I shook my head, and smiled. “No, no I don’t like him. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” Madison looked relieved. “We just don’t want you to get hurt. And when she comes back …”

“If she comes back.” Julia looked morosely down at her feet.

“Right. If … if and when she comes back, you just wouldn’t want to …”

“No, really,” I said, my voice unnaturally high, “it’s fine! Let’s go back inside.”

We did, the two others drifted off, and I found myself surprised to learn that Dana was not in our room back up at the school. She was here. And by the looks of it, she was wasted. When I passed her she didn’t notice me.

Johnny was at the makeshift bar, pouring himself a shot of Captain Morgan.

I stood next to him. “Hit me.”

He laughed, and wordlessly screwed the cap back on the Captain, and opened the blue bottle of vodka.

“How’d you know that’s what I wanted?”

“It’s girl stuff.” He cast a side-glance at me and smiled.

“Hey, I don’t need to pretend to be tough, Captain Morgan.” I smiled. “I hate straight liquor. At least this stuff is easier.”

“Well, then,” he said, handing me my shot, “cheers to not pretending.”

We clinked, swallowed, and then I made that face again. He popped open a soda and handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I swigged it. “I had a can, but I don’t know where it is.”

“Never leave a drink unattended and then drink from it again. That’s how girls get roofied.”

“Are there people here who would do that?”

He furrowed his brows. “I really don’t think so. But Ricky is the pill guy.” He shrugged. “You should just always be careful anyway.”

“There it is!” Johnny said, as I made the winning cup in beer pong. “You finally made one, and right when it really mattered.”

He smiled at me.

“Took long enough.” I smiled back, all too aware that Max had just come into our part of the room.

“Who wants next?” Johnny asked loudly.

For a small moment I hoped Max would volunteer.

“We do!” Blake said, pulling Cam to the table.

Probably for the best—I didn’t need to make a fool of myself when I knew he’d be watching.

“Your shot,” Johnny said, nudging me with his elbow.

I aimed, shot and missed.

My head spun every time Cam or Blake made a shot and I had to take a sip of the vodka and pineapple that she’d made for me. Finally they made their last cup, and Johnny and I had lost. I tried very hard to concentrate on the game, but even though my eyes were on the red cups, my brain was in the crowd around us.

I turned to Johnny with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I’m so bad!”

I sipped my drink and wavered a little. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.

“You want some water?”

I nodded, my eyes still shut, thinking it was Johnny. But when I opened my eyes, it was to see Max.

I felt my stomach lurch, and I took the bottle he handed me. “Thanks.” Then, to overexplain as usual, I said, “I’m kind of a lightweight.”

“That’s better than being a hardened alcoholic by seventeen.” He sat back down, and I saw that next to him was Dana. She was finishing a red cup filled with something and wobbling into the wall behind her.

I fanned myself with my hand, suddenly feeling hot.

“You okay? You wanna step outside?”

“Um, sure.” My skin grew even warmer as surrounding gazes shifted to us when we stood and walked toward the door. It was like they were all motion-sensor security cameras, and I was a clumsy thief.

We stepped out into the chilly air, and I breathed deeply.

“So, how do you like it here so far?” he asked.

In that moment I was very aware of how cute he was.

“Max, get in here. Dana’s freaking out.”

He looked puzzled, but went inside. I followed him

“—doesn’t anyone even care? You’re all just acting like it never happened! Like it didn’t happen here, only a few months ago.”

“Dana, come—” Johnny tried to pull her away from the center of attention, but she swatted his hand away.

“Shut up, Johnny, you’re … you’re one of the reasons she’s gone and you know it. I will never look at you the same way.”

She may as well have slapped him. His eyes turned to stone, and he stepped away from her again. I glanced at Blake.

“Nobody cares,” shrilled Dana. “Nobody understands what it’s like to care about someone. You’re all so wrapped up in yourselves. I—Just fuck all of you!”

“Dana, we are all just as worried and hopeful as you.” Blake’s voice was steady and calm.

Dana’s face contorted into an unpleasant smile, and she started to laugh. “You’re so wrong about that.” She shifted her gaze to me, and then beside me to Max, who had just stepped up. Her smile turned into a grimace. “You are both disgusting.”

I felt stung as she looked directly at me.

I started to stutter out a response, but she got close to my face and said, “You’re just a little slut from the South. You want everyone, and you can’t have them. They don’t want you.”

Everyone hung on her every word.

“You don’t … you don’t even know me.” My voice was not steady or calm.

“Shut up.” She held a hand up in my direction and looked at Max. “If it wasn’t for you, she’d be here tonight. Do you realize that? And that bitch—” she pointed to me “—would not be.”

Dana stalked over to us, her gaze never leaving Max’s.

“You know,” she said, when she was face-to-face with him. Her voice was low, but everyone was listening hard. “You know. No one else here does, because I kept everyone’s secrets. You know that’s probably what she’s off doing, right? Handling the situation?”

“Stop talking now.” He said it firmly.

The air was thick and she stared at him for a long moment. Finally she walked out of the boathouse without saying another word. Johnny followed her.

The room filled with the immediate buzz of chatter that had been bound to follow her outburst. I felt sick and embarrassed. She so clearly hated and resented me. I didn’t want to go back to that room. I wanted to go home. But I had no choice.

“I’m sorry about that,” Max said. He didn’t look at me, simply followed Johnny and Dana’s lead by walking out of the boathouse. There was no reason for me to stay. After a five-minute search for my coat, I left, too.

I heard the screen door slam, and then footsteps. Johnny shouted after me when I was a few steps up. I turned, and he was coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you want me to walk you up?”

Not really. I was feeling sicker by the second, and really wanted to just dart from here to my room. I could hardly imagine saying very much at all. But I probably wasn’t in a position to say no to people.

“Sure.”

We walked in silence for a moment before he said, “So … did you have some fun at least, before the blowout?”

“Yeah, sure, it was fun.” Though it was hard to think of anything else besides what Dana had said.

“People have been pretty messed up about her.”

“Who, Dana?”

“Becca.”

Obviously. I’m an idiot. “Right, right. Of course.”

“Tensions run a little high when her name comes up.”

“I’m sure. Yeah.”

I didn’t want to talk, and suddenly I didn’t want to listen.

What was it about this girl Becca? Everything I’d heard about her made it seem like she was some kind of goddess who enchanted people just by being around them. I mean, I understand that it’s really awful to have a peer be missing and possibly dead … but it’s like she was friends with everyone. It was like she’d been perfect.

I didn’t want to go to my room, where Dana would inevitably be at some point. I was humiliated. I was sick. And to make matters worse, I felt cold pricks of rain start to fall into my hair.

A wave of sickness washed over me. We were only about fifty yards from the girls’ dorm door. I wanted to run to it, but I couldn’t.

“Well, I’m glad you came. We should, I don’t know, hang out or something.”

“Yeah sure. Um … thanks for walking me. I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” I gave a pitiful attempt at a smile and then flew through the door and up to my room.

When I got there, I took a deep breath. In almost that same instant, I was in the bathroom, getting close with the mouth of another toilet.

chapter 8 me

I WOKE UP BRIGHT AND EARLY AT TWO IN THE afternoon. Dana had made it her business to amble around as loudly as possible until she finally fell asleep. I had lain there for God knows how long with my eyes shut, pretending to sleep and trying not to move.

I was trembling and weak when I awoke, and I felt that putting my head in a vise might be a lot more preferable to the pounding it endured now. My churning stomach needed something in it or it was just going to shrivel into a raisin. But I really didn’t feel like eating was going to go well. Even so, I made it down to the dining hall.

Sandwiches, soup, salad, chicken, pancakes … my stomach had all the options in the world and was rejecting even the thought of any of them. I groaned and turned to leave.

And then there was Max, walking in.

I gave a small smile. God I hope I don’t puke.

“Hi.” He looked uncomfortable.

“Hey.”

“Did you just get here?”

I nodded. “Yes. Trying to decide what to eat.” I looked around again at all the things I couldn’t imagine putting down my throat and keeping there.

“Do you want to sit with me?”

A chill filled my chest. I felt so stupid for letting myself drink so much last night that I was screwing myself over today. “Sure.”

We walked through the line together. I looked around me. I didn’t want him to know how bad I was feeling. I really didn’t want to give him the opportunity to picture me with my face in a toilet.

Potato soup. Nope. Would look the same going down as it would five minutes later.

Sandwich. Entirely too many textures.

Yogurt. Only one texture, but it was a nasty one.

Salad. That nail-polish-remover taste in the lettuce would remind me way too much of the alcohol directly.

Bread of any and all kind seemed out of the question. People always say bread and water is the way to go, but the very thought of either one of those things was absolutely revolting.

Chicken tenders. Maybe I could do that. Maybe. I grabbed them and a ginger ale, and sat at the nearest table.

I exhaled slowly and purposefully, trying to soothe my quivering stomach. I shut my eyes fast when I saw Max’s cheeseburger. This was going to be tough.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked. “Before Dana freaked out?”

“Yeah, up until then.”

“Just … ignore everything she said. You’re obviously not disgusting.”

Only in this bizarre context could that give me the thrill of flattery.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know why she attacked you like that.”

I shrugged. “I don’t, either.”

I considered the chicken tenders, and took another bite. Oh, big mistake. The second it hit my throat I had to cough and swallow hard.