Saturday, October 31, 1993

H

er lip was swelling. She should probably put ice on it, but why bother. Who cared if her lip ballooned like a sausage or if it got infected with Craig’s germs and killed her? She flopped onto her bed. At this very minute, Annie was wrapped in Bobby Baxter’s arms, engulfed in a cloud of Old Spice, kissing his sweet, soft lips. Nora covered her face and groaned.

How could Annie betray her so deeply? Taking Bobby Baxter just to punish Nora. And, as if that weren’t punishment enough, she’d turned Craig the beast loose on her? Nora still felt Craig’s teeth pecking at her. She shivered and curled onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest. Why was Annie being so evil? Was it just because of Tommy’s stupid photographs?

Maybe it was that simple. Maybe Annie was so pissed and afraid that her parents might see the pictures that she didn’t know what to do except make Nora’s life hell. If that were the case, and if Nora gave her the photos, then Annie would relax and be her best friend again, and everything would go back to the way it was.

Right. And maybe Tommy would be class president.

Still, it was a possibility. Nora’s only hope of getting Annie to ease up was to produce the pictures and negatives—and soon.

Nora knew what she had to do, just not how to do it. Her tongue played with the cut on her lip until the sting became too intense to bear. Then she sat up, frustrated, figuring out what to do. She’d heard Tommy moving around in his room, so she couldn’t look there.

Then again, if he was in his room, then he wasn’t upstairs in his dark room, which meant she could look there. Probably, he wouldn’t have left them anywhere so obvious, but it was worth a try. Searching was better than lying in bed picturing her best friend making out with Bobby Baxter, kissing him the way she’d taught Nora, with her lips parted just a little, her head turned ever so slightly so her nose wouldn’t bump his, letting him press his hands against her backside. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nora’s heart crackled and burned. Their seven minutes must be up by now. After making out with Annie, Bobby Baxter must be back in the party room. Did he even notice that Nora was gone? Nora sniffed, refusing to cry anymore. But tears welled anyway, blurring her vision. The party games and Bobby Baxter would go on without her.

This was all Tommy’s fault. God, she hated him. Why why why did she have such a shithead for a brother? Life isn’t fair. Make the most of what you’ve got. When you get lemons, make lemonade. Nora wanted to rip Marla’s face off, pull out her hair. What kind of mother was she? How could she dismiss Nora’s whole life with her asinine clichés? Why couldn’t Nora have a normal family?

Nora raged. Her chest boiled. She was on her own, without allies, and she would do what she had to in order to survive, which meant she’d find the pictures that night, whatever it took. She tiptoed down the hall to Tommy’s room, listened. Cracked open the door, his mustiness smacking her in the nose. His desk lamp was on, spotlighting a newly-mounted moth, it wings spread akimbo on foam board. Tommy was sprawled on his bed, sleeping on top of his blankets, still in his clothes. His face was relaxed, without a care. She wanted to clobber him. Instead, she snapped her fingers, testing to see if the sound would wake him up. When it didn’t, she raced up the steps, assured that the sounds of her footsteps in the attic wouldn’t wake him up either.