us a keg and she told.”
“Told who?”
“Her parents, the cops, the school. It was grievous. Kurt got three days’ suspension since he was hosting.”
An immediate sense of panic flooded her. “What? You can’t tell on your friends! That’s so completely wrong. She’ll burn in hell.” Angie was startled by the urgency and fear in her own voice. Hell? She didn’t even believe in Hell. Where had that come from?
Greg laughed. “Well, she got burned, all right. No one talks to her anymore. She’s lower than the outcasts.”
A fate worse than death in high school. Poor Kate, Angie thought. But she did it to herself. Telling. Didn’t she realize?
The sky hung overcast above them, and the breeze picked up—not a hot Santa Ana wind, but a preview of cooler weather. Angie shivered in her thin brown sweater—she hadn’t thought to buy a new jacket during her shopping spree. Greg pulled her closer under his arm, which totally made it worth freezing all the way to his house. He kept turning his head to look at her. She could feel his glance on her cheek, which was most certainly blushing.
Greg unlocked the front door and sent the girls into the kitchen. “Grab whatever you want to eat,” he said. “I have to make sure the coast is clear.” He disappeared.
“He’s shoving his dirty clothes under the bed,” Livvie explained. “He’s a total slob at home.” She stuck her head in the fridge and held out a can. “Want a Diet Coke?”
Angie accepted. “Thanks. It is
so
great to be with you guys again. You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had. Mobbed, flocked all day. Totally crazy.”
“I hear ya. Want some rum in it?” Liv asked. “I know where they keep it.” She grabbed two more cans and closed the door with her knee.
Angie was shocked. That was a change—the Liv she knew was a responsible straight-A student. But she said only, “No thanks. I’ve got a ton of homework. First day back, you know.”
“I know!” Livvie squealed. She rested her Coke-filled hands on Angie’s shoulders. Liv used to peer down at her from five-four. Now they were eye to eye. “But back from where, my mystery girl?”
“Still a mystery.” In a dramatic, confiding voice, Angie added, “Total amnesia.”
“You’re kidding me. No, really. Where were you? Follow me.” Liv headed to what had to be Greg’s room. “Was this, like, a reality-TV-stunt thing? Do you have a hidden camera on you? Because my butt’s not my best side.” She turned and grinned over her shoulder at Angie. Okay, that was more like Liv.
Greg’s room had that hastily cleaned-up look. The chair teetered with books and papers. The floor sported a couple of candy bar wrappers next to the trash can. The hunter-green plaid comforter hung crookedly on the low queen-sized bed. Greg sprawled up against the black bolster pillows along the wall, shoes off. Livvie handed him the two cans, slipped out of her flats, stepped into the middle of the bed, and sat pretzel-style. Angie copied her, careful not to spill her drink.
Greg took a large gulp and burped. He frowned. “But why is the rum gone?” he said in a slurry British accent.
Liv cackled. Angie didn’t get it.
“Pirates,”
Liv explained at Angie’s blank look. “Jack Sparrow?”
Angie shook her head helplessly. “What?”
“The mo-vie,” Livvie said as to a four-year-old. “
Pirates of the Caribbean
.”
“Oh. I’ve never seen it,” Angie said. “Is it good?”
“Never seen it?” Greg exclaimed. “Have you been living under a rock?”
Livvie glared and smacked him. “Greg, you total jerk.” She wrapped a possessive arm around Angie. “A little sensitivity, please?”
“Probably,” Angie replied to him. “Total amnesia.” She’d decided the two-word answer would cover a lot of ground.
“No way,” Greg said, his dark eyes big and round. “That’s totally cool. I mean, you could have been anything, anywhere.”
“Abducted by aliens,” Livvie
“Told who?”
“Her parents, the cops, the school. It was grievous. Kurt got three days’ suspension since he was hosting.”
An immediate sense of panic flooded her. “What? You can’t tell on your friends! That’s so completely wrong. She’ll burn in hell.” Angie was startled by the urgency and fear in her own voice. Hell? She didn’t even believe in Hell. Where had that come from?
Greg laughed. “Well, she got burned, all right. No one talks to her anymore. She’s lower than the outcasts.”
A fate worse than death in high school. Poor Kate, Angie thought. But she did it to herself. Telling. Didn’t she realize?
The sky hung overcast above them, and the breeze picked up—not a hot Santa Ana wind, but a preview of cooler weather. Angie shivered in her thin brown sweater—she hadn’t thought to buy a new jacket during her shopping spree. Greg pulled her closer under his arm, which totally made it worth freezing all the way to his house. He kept turning his head to look at her. She could feel his glance on her cheek, which was most certainly blushing.
Greg unlocked the front door and sent the girls into the kitchen. “Grab whatever you want to eat,” he said. “I have to make sure the coast is clear.” He disappeared.
“He’s shoving his dirty clothes under the bed,” Livvie explained. “He’s a total slob at home.” She stuck her head in the fridge and held out a can. “Want a Diet Coke?”
Angie accepted. “Thanks. It is
so
great to be with you guys again. You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had. Mobbed, flocked all day. Totally crazy.”
“I hear ya. Want some rum in it?” Liv asked. “I know where they keep it.” She grabbed two more cans and closed the door with her knee.
Angie was shocked. That was a change—the Liv she knew was a responsible straight-A student. But she said only, “No thanks. I’ve got a ton of homework. First day back, you know.”
“I know!” Livvie squealed. She rested her Coke-filled hands on Angie’s shoulders. Liv used to peer down at her from five-four. Now they were eye to eye. “But back from where, my mystery girl?”
“Still a mystery.” In a dramatic, confiding voice, Angie added, “Total amnesia.”
“You’re kidding me. No, really. Where were you? Follow me.” Liv headed to what had to be Greg’s room. “Was this, like, a reality-TV-stunt thing? Do you have a hidden camera on you? Because my butt’s not my best side.” She turned and grinned over her shoulder at Angie. Okay, that was more like Liv.
Greg’s room had that hastily cleaned-up look. The chair teetered with books and papers. The floor sported a couple of candy bar wrappers next to the trash can. The hunter-green plaid comforter hung crookedly on the low queen-sized bed. Greg sprawled up against the black bolster pillows along the wall, shoes off. Livvie handed him the two cans, slipped out of her flats, stepped into the middle of the bed, and sat pretzel-style. Angie copied her, careful not to spill her drink.
Greg took a large gulp and burped. He frowned. “But why is the rum gone?” he said in a slurry British accent.
Liv cackled. Angie didn’t get it.
“Pirates,”
Liv explained at Angie’s blank look. “Jack Sparrow?”
Angie shook her head helplessly. “What?”
“The mo-vie,” Livvie said as to a four-year-old. “
Pirates of the Caribbean
.”
“Oh. I’ve never seen it,” Angie said. “Is it good?”
“Never seen it?” Greg exclaimed. “Have you been living under a rock?”
Livvie glared and smacked him. “Greg, you total jerk.” She wrapped a possessive arm around Angie. “A little sensitivity, please?”
“Probably,” Angie replied to him. “Total amnesia.” She’d decided the two-word answer would cover a lot of ground.
“No way,” Greg said, his dark eyes big and round. “That’s totally cool. I mean, you could have been anything, anywhere.”
“Abducted by aliens,” Livvie
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