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Authors: Anne Applegate
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off. Her legs were tucked up crisscross. She hugged her pillow.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. Sure, I had spent all night pretty much hating Tamara. But right then? She was a genuine, staring-into-space, red-eyed mess. She didn’t answer my question. So I crept over and grabbed a box of Kleenex off her desk. Nothing. I sat next to her, pulled a tissue out of the box, and held it up to her face.
Then I got it. Tamara was crying because Rachel and I had scared the snot out of her when we shook the chapel wall. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile. Tamara sniffled. I knew if I laughed, Tamara would probably rage out. On the other hand, at least I had a working relationship with Tamara’s rage face. This glassy-eyed disaster of a girl scared me.
“Hey.” I gave her a quick squeeze. “Chill out. We pranked you, is all. We shook the chapel wall. We got you good, huh?” I gave her an elbow, grinned, and waited for her to get furious.
“I wasn’t in the chapel. I was with Shane,” Tamara said.
The giggles inside me dropped like flies. And, yeah, the feeling was as gross as it sounds. “What?” I asked. “With who?”
“A sophomore. Shane,” she said. I didn’t know who she was talking about. Then after a minute, I kind of did. There was a pack of sophomore guys who roved campus. They constantly punched each other in the arms, or flicked each other on the backs of their ears. I’d heard they hazed the younger boys by duct taping their ankles together and hanging them, upside down, in their own closets. Bullies. I was pretty sure one of them was named Shane.
I remembered back home, when Grace — who was more Lia’s friend, but sort of mine, too — had invited Lia, Brooke, and me to a sleepover. In the dark of night, Grace had confessed how she’d kissed her chemistry partner at his house one day after school. We’d squealed with laughter and peppered her with questions: Was it fun? What did he say? Would you ever do it again? It didn’t seem like any of these were good questions now.
“What happened? Are you OK …?” I stopped.
Tamara shrugged. “Kinda,” she said. “He was with Sasha when I got to the chapel. I didn’t want to go to that stupid séance thing, so we ditched.”
“Where did you go?”
Another shrug. “Little Quad Lawn. At first it was pretty fun. We started kissing. But then he wanted to go further. And when I wouldn’t … he called me names … and ditched me.” She had to take three big, watery breaths to get it all out there.
I thought of that place, and how open and exposed it was. The school nurse asleep in her cottage fifty feet away. Dumpsters on a concrete slab nearby. Not exactly Romance City. And then to have the guy call you names and bail? I felt bad for Tamara.
She hugged me and bawled for real then. I wanted to be sympathetic, but also? She smelled bad. Probably what making out with Shane next to the Dumpsters smelled like. But I let her hug me, anyway.
It must have been the stress and the lack of sleep and everything, but the odor on Tamara started to make me queasy. My ears started ringing. It kept getting worse, until it sounded like a truck backing up in my head. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, and the whole time, she was still crying.
I thought: Tamara’s poisoning me . It was a crazy idea, but as soon as I thought it, it felt exactly right. My hands got cold and shaky. She blew her nose and rested her head on my shoulder.
I started to feel like I was in one of those movies where someone gets radiation poisoning, right before their skin starts to slough off and their eyes bleed. My blood pressure fell through my toes. I thought, I’m dying . Which was crazy. I kept trying to breathe, but no air got in.
Panicked, I shoved her away and bounced off her bed. My legs wobbled, my knees trying to buckle. And then I had a hallucination.
My roommate’s skin got all withered and yellowed. Her eyes turned milky and rolled up in their
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. Sure, I had spent all night pretty much hating Tamara. But right then? She was a genuine, staring-into-space, red-eyed mess. She didn’t answer my question. So I crept over and grabbed a box of Kleenex off her desk. Nothing. I sat next to her, pulled a tissue out of the box, and held it up to her face.
Then I got it. Tamara was crying because Rachel and I had scared the snot out of her when we shook the chapel wall. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile. Tamara sniffled. I knew if I laughed, Tamara would probably rage out. On the other hand, at least I had a working relationship with Tamara’s rage face. This glassy-eyed disaster of a girl scared me.
“Hey.” I gave her a quick squeeze. “Chill out. We pranked you, is all. We shook the chapel wall. We got you good, huh?” I gave her an elbow, grinned, and waited for her to get furious.
“I wasn’t in the chapel. I was with Shane,” Tamara said.
The giggles inside me dropped like flies. And, yeah, the feeling was as gross as it sounds. “What?” I asked. “With who?”
“A sophomore. Shane,” she said. I didn’t know who she was talking about. Then after a minute, I kind of did. There was a pack of sophomore guys who roved campus. They constantly punched each other in the arms, or flicked each other on the backs of their ears. I’d heard they hazed the younger boys by duct taping their ankles together and hanging them, upside down, in their own closets. Bullies. I was pretty sure one of them was named Shane.
I remembered back home, when Grace — who was more Lia’s friend, but sort of mine, too — had invited Lia, Brooke, and me to a sleepover. In the dark of night, Grace had confessed how she’d kissed her chemistry partner at his house one day after school. We’d squealed with laughter and peppered her with questions: Was it fun? What did he say? Would you ever do it again? It didn’t seem like any of these were good questions now.
“What happened? Are you OK …?” I stopped.
Tamara shrugged. “Kinda,” she said. “He was with Sasha when I got to the chapel. I didn’t want to go to that stupid séance thing, so we ditched.”
“Where did you go?”
Another shrug. “Little Quad Lawn. At first it was pretty fun. We started kissing. But then he wanted to go further. And when I wouldn’t … he called me names … and ditched me.” She had to take three big, watery breaths to get it all out there.
I thought of that place, and how open and exposed it was. The school nurse asleep in her cottage fifty feet away. Dumpsters on a concrete slab nearby. Not exactly Romance City. And then to have the guy call you names and bail? I felt bad for Tamara.
She hugged me and bawled for real then. I wanted to be sympathetic, but also? She smelled bad. Probably what making out with Shane next to the Dumpsters smelled like. But I let her hug me, anyway.
It must have been the stress and the lack of sleep and everything, but the odor on Tamara started to make me queasy. My ears started ringing. It kept getting worse, until it sounded like a truck backing up in my head. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, and the whole time, she was still crying.
I thought: Tamara’s poisoning me . It was a crazy idea, but as soon as I thought it, it felt exactly right. My hands got cold and shaky. She blew her nose and rested her head on my shoulder.
I started to feel like I was in one of those movies where someone gets radiation poisoning, right before their skin starts to slough off and their eyes bleed. My blood pressure fell through my toes. I thought, I’m dying . Which was crazy. I kept trying to breathe, but no air got in.
Panicked, I shoved her away and bounced off her bed. My legs wobbled, my knees trying to buckle. And then I had a hallucination.
My roommate’s skin got all withered and yellowed. Her eyes turned milky and rolled up in their
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