Nineteen

DAKOTA

Dylan was running late. I paced around my living room, waiting for him to show up. Then, because I didn’t want him to see me pacing or know that his lateness annoyed me, I went back up to my room.

What a strange day. I felt so awkward being with Benny and the rest of them, but especially Benny after I’d gone and done that stupid thing the other night. I mean, why did I have to kiss him? It was this crazy out-of-body experience, like something my lips did without prior authorization from my brain. Because if I’d thought about it all? It never would have happened. Just remembering it now made my cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Must. Not. Think about that.

I tried on some hoop earrings, then changed them up for diamond studs. I brushed my hair and rearranged my bangs flat, then swept to the side.

Finally, Frieda called up to tell me that Dylan was at the door.

Let him wait for me, I thought. Let him wonder. I brushed my hair a few more times, reapplied my powder, and then slowly made my way down the stairs.

“There you are,” he said with his crooked smile.

For the tiniest little second, I felt grateful for him, that he was so cute and so put together. Grateful for what a good couple we made in photos. I mean, there wasn’t anyone else at HF I would have wanted to call my boyfriend. I stood up on my toes to kiss him.

“Wow,” he said. “Someone’s horned up.”

“It’s just a kiss!” Why did he have to make everything about sex? Then I thought of Benny again. Damn it.

“Well, I like it. I like it. I haven’t seen enough of you lately, babe. I’ve missed you.”

I told Frieda I’d be back by my curfew, which was midnight. My parents were out at some gala, so I’d probably be home before them.

“Don’t drink and drive,” she said, because she was like another parent to me.

“We won’t,” Dylan said, because I’d probably drive us home.

And with that we were off in his Beamer.

Junibel lived in Wayne, practically the other end of the Main Line. By the time we got there, the party was super packed—there was already a line for the keg snaking out of her garage.

I found Junibel in her living room with Dylan’s friend’s Justin, her sometimes-hookup. They were locked together in some kind of swaying hug.

“Thank God,” she said as we came in. “The party needs you.”

It actually looked like everyone was doing fine without us—Junibel especially, who was hanging on to Justin by the back pockets of his jeans.

“Yo, we are the party,” Dylan said. “So where’s the good stuff?”

She giggled as she broke away from Justin. “Hello to you, too. Look in my dad’s study,” she said. “He’s got some whiskey in there.”

“Let’s go, bro,” Dylan said to Justin.

“But you just got here,” Junibel said.

“We’ve gotta catch up,” Dylan said, and he and Justin went off in the direction she’d indicated.

“Sorry, that was rude,” I said in their absence. I was used to making excuses for Dylan. The truth was, he could do whatever he wanted and there’d always be a girl who’d go out with him. Might as well be me, right? “So things are good with Justin?”

“For the moment.” She looked anxious. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

I smiled. “What do you mean? I see you every day.”

“Not really. You’re never around. Are you okay? I mean, are you mad at me?”

“Of course not.” I felt bad so I gave her a hug. “I’ve just been busy.”

Sometimes I wondered if we’d be friends if we hadn’t known each other since we were ten, or if we went to a bigger school, where there were more options. Because we didn’t have all that much in common anymore. I tried not to think about it too much, though. Who else would I even hang out with?

“Dude. Guess who’s here?” Justin said as he and Dylan came back into the room, carrying a squat bottle of bourbon.

“Who?” Junibel asked, rolling her eyes. “Those Berwyn Prep kids again? I told them not to come back.”

“Naw,” Dylan said. “Benito. We just saw him in the kitchen.”

Junibel grabbed the bottle from Justin and took a gulp. “That kid from the football team? How did he get to my party?”

My breath caught in my chest. Benny was here? That was highly unusual. From what I knew, he never went to HF parties. I had to see this for myself.

“I’m going to get a beer,” I said after a few more beats of conversation, not wanting to be super-obvious. “Does anyone want anything?”

“Not me,” Junibel said. “Just make sure no one’s breaking anything or eating anything.”

I crossed through the living room and into the open kitchen/dining room. And there he was, standing by the center island talking to some football dudes. He was wearing a red sweater I’d never seen before, which made his chest look extra broad and his dark hair extra dark.

I don’t know why I was so surprised. I mean, I’d been hanging out with him just a few hours earlier. Well, not really hanging out, but whatever. Still, it was like seeing a ghost. A ghost with an incredibly sexy jawline.

Was I . . . attracted to him?

He looked up as soon as I walked in.

“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and that tiny smile unfurled across his face. “Same as you.”

“Later, Ben.” He watched as the two other guys drifted away, off to go find some girls, I was sure.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” I said, anxious all of a sudden. “I mean if you want to hang out with your friends.” Maybe he didn’t want to be seen talking to me in the same way I probably should have not wanted to be seen with him.

He gave me a look, like come on. “You’re my friend.”

I stared into the dark fringe of his eyelashes and felt a pleasant tingling, like when you come in from the cold and the numbness in your fingers and toes starts to wear off. Then I remembered the kissing. Oh. Shoot. Was that why he showed up? Because of me? It couldn’t be, could it? I felt embarrassed all over again. And awkward, too.

“Sure,” I said finally, not sure how to respond. I hoped it wasn’t some kind of test. “I’m your friend.”

That’s when Dylan came into the room, and I was almost relieved, because it broke the moment of us staring at each other thinking our private thoughts, the tension of which was getting to be unbearable. “Dj’you get your drink, babe?” he turned to Benny. “What’s up, Benito?”

“My name’s Benny,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Benjamin, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Benjamin Yizar the Fourth, I presume.” Dylan did a fake, mocking bow, and I was mortified.

“That’s my name,” Benny said. “But there’s only one.”

“And that makes you special?”

Benny shrugged. “It makes me . . . me.”

“But you do think you’re special, right? You’re the wonder kid on the scholarship? We’re supposed to roll out the red carpet for you when you show up at our party?”

“I never said that.” I could see Benny’s jaw pulse slightly. He probably didn’t like being called out for the scholarship thing.

“Well, you act that way.”

“Look, there’s no need to be a dick,” Benny said quietly.

Dylan got in his face. “Did you just call me a dick, new guy?”

Gauntlet thrown. This was bad. Dylan lived for this kind of stuff, and when he started with someone, it was hard to calm him down. I wanted to do something, say something, but I was afraid, I guess, because I didn’t want to call more attention to the fact that I knew Benny better than I was supposed to. Much better, actually. Wouldn’t they all know something was up if I defended him now? There was no good excuse as to why we’d be friends. But there was another reason, too. I was worried what people would think—about me, I mean. He wasn’t the kind of guy anyone else would envy me being with. He was practically a foot taller than me—we’d look terrible in pictures. He was, as Junibel would say, a nonentity.

So instead of trying to stop it I just stood there, worrying and watching the conversation bounce back and forth.

“Just step off,” Benny said, but I noticed the hands came out of his pockets. “I’m minding my own business.”

Dylan laughed. “Minding your own business. In Junibel’s kitchen. Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay what?” Benny asked, and I could see the anger starting to crack through.

Benny took a few steps toward him, and that’s when I felt scared. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, and I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble. If they fought, it was likely both things would happen, not to mention the possibility of cops coming to break up Junibel’s party, which was bad for all of us. At the same time, I almost wished Benny would defend himself. Dylan was being a dick. He deserved what was coming to him.

“Okay, let’s go.” Dylan gestured for the back door leading to Junibel’s patio. Others were watching now. Kids from the lacrosse team, and a couple of junior girls. They’d all stopped what they were doing when they sensed what was happening in the kitchen.

Benny paused for a moment, like he was almost considering getting into it. I could see his eyes registering the situation. He looked around at all the people watching, and he could see like I could that they were aching for a fight. They wanted more than anything for this to get ugly.

Then he shook his head, clearly trying to take the high road. “Forget it. I’m not gonna fight you.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’d be doing exactly what you expect me to do.”

Dylan tensed up beside me. “So?”

“Dylan, let’s go play quarters,” I said, finding my voice all of a sudden. “You said we could play quarters tonight.”

He was still staring at Benny, hard, and I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away. “So?” he asked again.

Benny shrugged. “So it would just be too easy. Let’s keep your pretty face clean, huh?” he said mockingly. Quiet but fierce.

“What the fuck? I’ll hurt you.”

But I could tell Dylan was hesitating. “Come on, Dylan,” I said. “Forget it.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said after what seemed like an eternity. I felt his arm muscle relaxing. “All right. Get your beer, babe. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

I waited a few beats for him to stalk off, and then I looked at Benny. “Sorry . . . he’s not always like that.” How many times would I have to do this tonight?

“Forget it.” Benny shook his head. I could no longer read him, and that was almost worse because I felt guilt weighing on me. Why hadn’t I done anything? Here Benny was, making the rest of us seem like assholes. He just had that way about him.

“I’m serious. He’s just . . . insecure.” I don’t know why but I wanted to make it okay, I wanted to make sure he knew that I had nothing to do with the way Dylan was acting. Kissing Benny had been a mistake, I knew that now, but it wasn’t too late to fix things so we could still be okay around each other.

Benny’s face revealed nothing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“He wouldn’t really fight you. I’m sure he was just joking—”

Benny cut me off. “—I said, don’t worry. Go ahead. Go play your game.”

“I’m just trying to be nice.”

“You’re looking out for you,” he said. “Do you need me to tell you it’s all okay so you don’t feel bad? Grow up, Dakota. Quit pretending to be something you’re not. You’re not as good at it as you think.”

“What did you just say to me?” I whispered. Everyone else had cleared out of the kitchen by now. No fight; nothing to see. It was just me and Benny.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I slammed my hand down on the counter. “No. Tell me! Say it!”

“Little Miss Perfect. No one here cares about the real you anyway, right?” he snarled. “Isn’t that what you said?”

I couldn’t believe he was turning my own words against me. “No, I said no one knew the real me.”

“Same difference, right? It’s all an act.”

“It’s not an . . . act. It’s just—it’s hard—”

“You said you fake it. You pretend to be someone you’re not and meanwhile you’ve got all your little secrets. What would they think, Dakota? What would they think if they found out?”

Oh god. Did he know about my throwing up? How the hell could he? Nobody knew about what I did all alone. Then I remembered, the day he saw me coming out of the bathroom. Benny might have been quiet and on the fringes of HF, but obviously he was tuned in to what was going on.

But I don’t, I wanted to say. I hadn’t in weeks. I was crushed. He must have thought I was so . . . pitiful.

And then I felt mad. Why should I have to justify myself? I mean, what did I do? But I knew. When it actually had counted, I’d done exactly nothing. I stayed quiet and let Dylan insult him in front of everyone at the party. I’d sold him out.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Save your apologies,” he said. “We’re not friends.”

The way he said it was so cold, I wanted to die right then and there, and I knew no matter what happened at this party, from here on out, the night was ruined. Spoiled. Poisoned, actually. The words echoed in my head as I walked away: Not friends.